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Les Cinq Langues
N" 1.
5 Octobre 1907.
8^ Année.
P
51
DEUTSGHER TEI
Sici>crfd|lrffrtie
JUN 1 2 1967
5)te ©tabt 23reêlait Êeabfic^tigt bem Siditer beê beutîc^en 2D3Qlbe§, 3ofef lyrei^ervn
t). (Sic^enbovff, in i^ren 33îaucrn e'm ©enfinat 311 errid^ten. 5)er 2)ic^ter ift beïanntlid^-
ein getiorener Sc^Iefier.
Seionbevs bemerïenêinert ift baê
©(^idfal, n3elcf)eê cnfang^ bem
populârften Siebe ©ic^enborffê :
„3in einem ïûl^Icn ©runbe ba ge^t
ein 9)lù^Ienrab" befd^ieben \vax.
©ic^enborff Ijatte biefiè ©ebicï;t im
3af)re 1812 an ^uftinuë berner
fur beffen 5Umanad^ ,,S)eutfd^e
Sidfiterftieit" gefc^icft. ®er S)i(|ter
Uiar bainolè erft 24 3(af)re ait.
berner ertannte, ttield^ feltene *)}erïe
er ba gefifc^t i)abe, legte baê Slatt
nergiu'igt auf feiuen Sifif; unb fa^
ce î)alb barauf bon einem SBinbftofe
evfafet burcEiê offene 3:enfter ï)inauê=
fliegen iu ben groBen ïïlèalb, ber
an fein einfam gelegeneê Sanbljauë
in aUeljfieim in ©c^uiaden ftiefe.
3uftinu§ ei-fd^raï ^eftig. ©r mac^te
fic^ fogleic^ anê (gud^en unb nalim
\iâ) ©eï)ilfen ; fogar ber ^iiqex mufete
ben SBalb mit burd^ftobern \ ba§ malt abn blieï) uerloren. iîerner toar troftloê ^
S:rci Sage fpdter fam ein §anbler, ber iu einem ^orûe 5JîauItrommeIn % SlrmMnber
unb {îingerf)iite 3U Derïaufen ^atte, unb bot -fîerner feine aSaren on. ®a faf| biefer
3u f": "r un6ef(^reibti(^en ^reube unb iiberrafc^uug, baB ber eine 3^ingerf)ut in baé
eic^enborfffc^e DJÎeifterlieb eingepadt toar. ^n ^aiferbad^, eine ©tunbe Don iîernerê
^aufe entferut, f)atte ber §anbler ba§ $8tatt >:papier gefunben, unb 3U)ar auf einem
filiifienben ^lai^éfelbe. „^^ faufte", ft^Iiefet fïerner ben 23eric^t, ,,bem DJknn ni($t
nur ben g^ingerbut, fonberu aud^ uocî) 3iiiorf — DJ^auttrommetn ab ! "
gigenartige @e|(^icfe finb auc^ mit anberen ©ic^enborfffc^en Siebern berhnipft. 3n
cmem feiner ©ebid^te roeift er barauf ^in, ba^ er bie 2BeIt nur al§ eine Srûdfe ûber
ben ©trom ber 3eit nad^ bem jenfeitigen Ufer betreten motte. „nnb fo ift eè", fagt ein
^ofef grei^err 0. gic^enbovff.
1. ©(^icffal = destinée.
S. trompes.
[1]
luie man toeiê. — 3. fureter. — 4. inconsolable. —
ALLEM . 1
DECTSGHEK TEIL [2J
aierefim- beê ®icï)terê, .«perr ^aul j^etter, ,,alô ob eê fid; ki beit gic^enborfffc^en
Ciebern ïeid^t fterben liefee". 3:eIi$5!nenbeIêfof)n=58artf)oIbl), bev in fo genialer SCSeife
bie ^ongnien,^ beë 2:Dneô 311 ben gid}enborfîfiï)en 2Borteit gefunben fjût, ift iiber
einem ®i($cnbDrfrlcf)eii ^iebe geftorben, feine ©rfimcfter îïannl), bie oud^ eine gute
.^îonUioniftin Wax, ftavb ebenfaHô unitirenb ber fiompoiition eineë gic^enborfffc^en
Siebeë, fo ba^ (St^enborff feI6ft uor bem ^oiiiponiereu feiner fiieber inarnte.
Der Pferdekauf *.
Pastor Jodeke in Hoizdorf war ein tiichtiger Landwirt'. Er bewirtschatlete
die vierzig Morgen ^ Acker, diezur Pfarrei gehôrten, selbst und erzielte ^ so
einen hôheren Ertrag, als wenn er sie an die Bauern verpachtet * batte.
Dabei balfihtn Christian, sein Knecht, ein alter, knorriger ^ Trampel^, aber
eine ehrliche treue Seele und ein ebenso tiichtiger Landwirt wie sein
Herr. Vierzehn Jahre diente er schon dem Pastor, und ebenso lange lenkte er
den Hans, den Schimmel'. Hans war uneriniidlich gewesen, teils vor dem
Pfinge, teils vor dem Kutschv/agen. Aber nun war er ait und sollte ver-
kaul't werden. Christian brummte vor sich hin: « Der Hans tut noch lange
seine Arbeit. Er ist ja auch noch gar nicht so ait. Erst achtzehn Jahre. Er
kônnte giit und gerne noch funf, sechs Jahre mitmachen. Aber nein, da
miifî verkaiift werden. Schliefilich wird iinsereiner ** aiich noch verkaiift. »
« Schwalz keinen Kohi '■>, Christian, » sagte der Pastor, « wir brauchen einen
jungen, krilftigen Gaul. Heutzutage mu6 ailes schnell gehen, wir leben im
Zeitalter des Dampfes. Ob du ait bist oder nicht, ist égal. Schlagt der Gaul
ein flottes Tempo ein i", mulit du deine Spazierhôlzer " auch lebhafter
schwingen, magst du wollen oder nicht. Nachsten Dienstag geht's nach
Buttstadt auf den Friihjahrsmarkt, putze den Hans und die Kutsche. »
« Ja, ja, werd's schon besorgen, aber unrecht ist's doch. Fiinf, sechs
Jahre tut er schon noch seine Schuldigkeit *-, und dann kônnen Sie ihm's
Gnadenbrot geben '^ » « Ich bin kein reicher Mann, tue wie ich dir hiefi. »
Den Dienstag sollte es ganz frùh fortgehen, schon um drei Uhr, denn man
woUte spatestens um sieben in Buttstadt sein und hatte eine Wegstrecke
von zwanzig Kilometern zuriickzulegen. So verabschiedete sich ^^ denn die
Pastorfamilie schon am Montag abend vom Hans. Die Frau Pastor fiitterte
ihm nocheinmal zwei Stûckchen Zucker, der elfjahrige Wilhelm tatschelte '■>
ihm den Riicken und bift die Zilhne zusammen, um nicht laut aufzuheulen,
die neunjahrige Huth aber hatte beide Arme um Hansens Hais geschlungen
und liefi ihren Tranen freien Laut". Hans schaute mit klugen Augen von
einem zum andern, als woUte er sagen : Weshalb regt ihr euch denn so
aut'i"? Die Erde ist ja so klein, wir werden uns schon einmal wiedersehen.
Lina. das Dienstmtidchen, stand in der Stalltiir und sprach mit grollender
Stimme : « Na, wenn der Herr Student in die Ferien kommt, der wird
schimpten'^ Er riit Sonntags nachmittags immer spazieren. Das ging so
schon, schunkel, schaukel'^ so schon dusemang '9. »
« Hait' den Mund, » rief der Pastor, « mein Sohn schimpft nicht, dazu
*Mit Eflaubuis des Verfassers, Herrn Rudolph Brauae-Rolila, abgedruckt. Aus « BriiuncheD »
(Hambiirg, Verlag von Cari Slockicht, 1901).
1. agriculteur. — 2. Feldniafi. uQgefiihr 26 a. — 3. oblenail. — 4. affermés. —
3. noueux. — 6. lourdaud, balourd. — 7. weilius Pferd. — 8. einer vou uns (wir
Kuechte).— 9. UusiQii, Dummheiten. — 10. prend une belle allure. — 11. Berne, —
12. Aufgabe. — 13. donner ses invalides. — 14. nahm Ahschied, frit congé. —
15. tapota. — 16 sich aufregeu, s'émouvoir. —17. grogner. — 18. comme dans une
balançoire. — 19. « doucement ».
DEDTSCHER TEIL
ist er zu wohlerzogen. Also morgen friih um drei, Christian. Daft du niir
deri Hans noch ordentlich putzest, er miiA fôrmlich spiegeln -° vor schneeiger
Weifie. »
« Da spiegelt sich was weg, Herr Pastor, ich habe geputzt, dafi mir der
Arm lahm ist. Soll ich Hansen vielleicht mit Kreide einreiben ? »
« Ja, reibe ihn mit weifter Kreide ein. Das ist kein Betrug^i, das ist nur
so"n kleines Mittel, das Wohlgefallen der Kaufer za erwerben. »
« Wann kommt ilir zuriick, Miinnchen? » fragte die Frau Pastor.
« Das ist unbestimmt, liebe Thérèse. Finde ich gleich etwas Passendes,
schon morgen Abend. Finde ich es nicht gleich, erst ùbermorgen. Sollte
sich in meiner Abwesenheit etwas ereignen, sollte eine Nottaufe" oder
das heilige Abendmahl--^ verlangt werden, so schickst du nach Benndorf,
das ist nur dreivierlel Slunden entfernt, und der dortige Amtsbruder-*
wird mir gern den Gefallen erweisen. »
In Buttstadt kam man ziir rechten Zeit an. Hans hatte zwei Tage untatig im
Stalle gestanden und war gut gefiïttert worden. So war er denn tiichtig
ausgeschritten, so dafî man sogar noch etwas friiher auf den Markt kam,
als man gerechnet hatte. Trolz der friihen Stunde war das Handeln und
Feilschen^-5 schon im besten Gange. Eine Unmasse-^ Gaule waren angetrie-
ben, so dafi dem Pastor das Herz sank. Schliefilich miifite er seinen alten
Hampel-' wieder mit heimnehmen. « Na, » meinte Christian, « das ware
noch nicht das schlimmste. » Aber des Pastors Sorge war iinbegriindet,
denn der schmiick aussehende Hans fand bald Liebhaber, und der Pastor
schlug ihn an einen Roftkamm-* fiir.oO Taler los. 60 Taler hatte er zuhause
eingesteckt und iOO Taler vvoUte er fiir einen neuen Gaul ausgeben, von dem
Rest abcr mit Christian Leben schon machen, denn so ein wichtiger Kauf
mufjte gebiihrend -^ begossen werden.
( Forts ètzung folqt. )
Rudolf BRAUNE-RofîLA.
20. glaûzea. — 21. tromperie. — 22. baptême %irgent. — 23. communion. —24. col-
lègue. — 23. marchandage. — 26. sehr groÊe Meoge. — 27. lourdaud. — 28. maqui-
gnon. — 29. convenablement.
Cfto&cr. — aajcintcfc.
®e^t, ûuê ber 9îeben ' fvôl)ïic^em Saube -
sosie fie ^eroorquitlt bie fûftige Srûube !
9îun tnirb gepflûcft^ unb beim ^eïtern* geiungen !
SOfloft ■ loirb gejec^t s unb beim S^d)en gefprmigen.
2ûaê ba intr Seine ^at, tanat auf ber SBiefe,
3[Rirf)eI mit ©rete unb §anê mit ber Siefe !
Sîeinicf.
l. vignes. — 2. SBlûttetii. — 3. |)flU(ïen = cueillir. — 4. Setter = pressoir. — 5. vio
nouveau. — 6. getrunten.
Sic @cntà(^c ï)cè ^onioêïctdtmntê'.
3fm britten 1Bnà)i non ,,S;i(ï)tung unb SDa^rf^eit" i)at ©oell^e, Une atfgemein befannt
bem j, Lieutenant pour le Roi" François de Théas, comte de Thoranc, ober,
tDte tt)ir ifin fiir3er nennen, bem ,,.fîonigéteutnant", bem mintdrifcfien ©aft be5
1. Lieuteûaot du roi (Louis XV).
DEUTSCHER TEIL
'M
Oaterlit^en §auîeêuidf)renb ber O^vanaoïen^eit ^ ein fcï)oneê Senfmal geje^t. ®ie ©eftalt
btefeê Siïlanneê, beffen eorneî)me ©rfi^einung einen unau5lbi($Ii(ï)en ©irtbnicf auf ha^:>
©eiitiit bcë iînaben gemarOt f)at, ift babiivdfi fur iimner mit ©oetfieê Seï)en§9efd^icï)te
Derbunben, unb eé ift uevftanblicf), bafe fief) bie Jorfcfjung mit cgrofeer Siebe beê ©rafen
angenommen unb feinen meiteren ©dndfaïeu iiûcf^gefpûrt fiat, um fo mef)r, aie
®a§ ©oet!^c=§au§ ju granffurt a. 5Jl. bon bet |)offcttc.
(Soet^e felbft faft nom îlugeubUcî feiue§ 5(n§3ugeê auè bem ndterlicfien ^aufe ben
^bnigêleutuaut gcinalicf) onë ben Slugen nerforen f)atte.
Unter ben ©riebuiffen, 'bie fid^ bem iînaben in jener S^it ti^f i"^ ©ebdc^tnié
pragten, nimmt ber grofee 2lnftrag ^, ben ber ©raf eiuer Slnjaf)! ber beften [yranïfurter
.^iinftler erteitte, einen fierborragenben ^lai} ein. ©leid^ beim ©intreten in ha§
©oet[)ef(ï}e .'pané l^otte ber ïunftfinnige 3:ran3ofe, toie man meife, ûufeerorbentlitf)
ïeb^Qften ©efaïïen an ber ©emalbegalerie beê aïten §errn 9îat ^ gefunben, unb mon
f)atte 3ucrft fioffen fonnen, ba^ bie gemeinfcf^aftlii^e Ciebe 3nr .^unft ben Soben ju
einem ertrdgïid^eu modiis vivendi be§ Çiauë^errn un-b beè ©afteê gebcn ïonnte,
— eine §offnung, bie fief) feiber ni^t erfiiffte. — 3)a§ ^uijftintereffe beê ©rafeu
bettitigte fic^ nun afSbalb aud^ in bemerïenêmerter ÏÛeife. ,,©Ieid^ in ben erften
2. 2Ba|renb fae« fie'Oenia'^ttgen ,^riege§. 2)ie ^ytanjofeu Ibefe^ten g^ranïfurt bon 1759 ttS
n(U. — 3. commande. — 4. be§ 35ateï§ be§ S)id)tet§.
DEUTSCHER TEIL
Stujeii bcr 2ln)uefcnf)eit beô ©rafen", JD f)eiBt eô in „S)ic^tung uiib aBaf)i()cit"^
„Unirben bie fatntlicf^en J-riinffuvter 5JUUer, a(é §irt, S(ï)u^, Irautmann, 9îotl]nagel,
^unfer, 311 ifjm bevufen. ©te jeigtcn ï{)U ferticjeu ©emalbe nor, itub ber ©vaf eignete
fid^ baê ^BerMuflic^e 511. 3f)m linirbe eiu ï)u(if(ï)eô {)et(eâ ©iebelaimmcr in ber DJUinfarbe
eingeràumt nnb fogleid) in ein lîabinett unb 3lte(icr uingemanbelt,"
3n biefem 9{telier ijabeix bann bie genannten maUx unb nor atlem ©eeïa^, ber auè
bem benac^darten Sarinftabt f)eriibergef)oIt iinirbe, nnb beffen onmutige 9toÎDfoart bem
O^ranjofen tiefonbers aufcigte % im 9hiftrage unb nad) ben genauen 3lnga(ieu beê ©rafen
eine gan^e 3eitlûng 33i(ber gemalt, bie fiir bas graflid)e ®ii)IoB iu ©raffe in ber
^roDence, bû§ ber ïïruber beê ©rafen, ber 9}laioratêf)err, fief) crbaute, beftimmt uiaren.
Sie genauen 53tafee ber 3i"iu'fi" unb ^abinette f)atte ber ©raf fidf) auâ ber §eimat
fommen laffen. ®iefe ©emiiïbe entftanben unmittelbar unter ben 5Xugen ©oet^eê, ber,
tro^ feiner ^ugenb, ni(ï)t bio^ a(5 Cernenber ,5ufrf)aute, fonbern anâ) banî feiner
lebfjaften ^f)antafie, bie an ben fiinftlerifcf)en SBorgdngenungemein regen 9tnteil naî)m,
ben ^iinftlern mand^en fc^a|îenGiiierten9îatgab. Unter anberem luirb man fief) erinnern,
ba^ ber ^nabe einen eigenen 3ïuffa| fc^rieb, in bem er jtoolf Silber jur ©efc^ii^te
Sofefê f(f)itberte, bie bann anà) gum ïeil auë9efiiî)rt tcurben. 2luf einem biefer Sifber
gtaubt man in bent ,i?opf Stofefô (uon Srautmanu) ben jnngen ©Detï)e ju erîenuen. S)ieje
fiinf 33itber fiub feit 1897 im ÎBefi^ beé ^ranffurter ©oetf)e=5Dlufeumê, atô f)D(^f)er3ige
®abt beê S)r. @cf)ubert, ber einen grofeen Seil feineè Sebenê ben O^orfiï)ungen nat^
bem Sebenêgange bcê lîonigêteutnantè geunbmet ^at, unb bem loir auc^ baè fcf)one
aSerî iiber ben ©rafen tierbanîen. ©d)u5ert fiatte biefe SSifber fd^on im 3af)re 1876 in
©raffe enlbedt, unb nic^t nur biefe, fonbern aui^ ben gefamten ©emdïbefcf)a^, ben
man in ber €ffentti(^feit nerfc^offen ^ nidf)nte, nacf)bem Soeperô iyorfcf)ungéreife im
^a'^re 1874 Dergebene gemcfen inar. Scf)utiert bebieit faft ^mei ,3at)r,3el)nte feinen ©cf)a^
unb fein SSiffen fiir fic^, unb foïange aifo iiuiBte bie SÛctt non ben in me[)r atê einer
§infiii^t mertlioïleu ©emdfben be§ lîonigêleutnant^ ni($t§.
(tJortfe^ung foigt.)
(,,33evUneï îagebïûtt", ^uni 1907.)
5. gefiel. — 6. disparu.
Ein Jubilàum der Pendeluhr.
Vor 2o0 Jahren wurde die erste Pendeluhr hergestellt. Ihr Erfinder
war Christian Huygens voni Zuylichen, der am 14. April 1629 im Haag
geboren wurde. Sein Valer, Gonstantyn, war einer der hervorragendsten
Dichter Hollands (1586 bis 1687), dessen !27 Biicher umfassende erste
Gedichtsainmhmg von einem bedeutenden Kônnen ' zeugt. Oa er gleich-
zeitig als Sekretâr und Rat des Statthalters Friedrich Heinrich von
Oranien eine angesehene Staatsstellong einnahm, war er in der Lage,
seine Sôhne gut ausbilden zu lassen. Christian liefi sich nach mehr-
jahrigen Reisen in England nieder, \vo er bereits als 26 jâhriger Gelehrter
lebhaf'tes Aul'sehen ^ errcgte, als erden grôl-iten der Saturnmonde und die
wahre Gestalt der Saturnringe erklârte. Er hat dann weiter durch eine
Reihe anderer Entdeckungen und Ertindungen seinen Namen in der
Geschichte der Naturwissenschaften unvergiinglich ^ gemacht.
Im Jahre 1657, also vor einem Vierteljahrtansend, schilderte er zuerst
die von ihm entdeckte Verwendung des Pendels alsZeitmesser. Er suchte
1. talent. — 2. sensation. — 3. unsterblicli.
UEOTSCHER TEIL [6]
aiich sofort seine Entdeckung zii verwerteii nnd verband sich zu diesem
Zwecke mit <lem Uhrmaclier Salomon Goster im Haag, der am lo. Juni,
•nach Erhalt des Patents fiir die Generalstaaten ^, an die Arbeit ging.
Als erste grofie Uhr der neuen Konstniktion wiirde 1658 die
Stadtuhr von Scheveningen aufgestellt. Sie ist nicht mehr erhalten,
wir wissen aber ans Huygens Beschreibung, dafe ihr Pendel 4,5 Meter
lang war iind ein Gewicht von 2o Kiiogramm trug. Als die iilteste auf
nns gekommene Uhr, die noch von Huygens stammt, ist Avohl ein im
pliysikalischen Institut der Universitiit Leyden betindiiches Werk anzu-
sehen, dessen Ursprung wir in das vorletzte Jahrzehnt des siebzehnten
Jahrhnnderts setzen .
4. États généraux.
2>ic 5rci ^icftcr*.
3fn ber I)o^en §att' fa^ .^ëtiig ©ifrib :
„3f)i' ^arfner, tuer mei^ mir bas fc^onfte Sieb ?"
llnb ein ^iingltng trat au§ ber 2d)ar beï)eiibe ',
2)te •'porf iit ber ^anb, baS 6d)Uiert au ber Senbe-.
«■Drei Sieber inei^ ic^ ; ben erfteu Sang
2)en t)ai't bu ja lî)o()l nergeficu fd)ou lang :
„ïlteinen 58ruber l)aft bu mcuc^lingS^ er[tod)en,"
Unb aber ^ : „s3a[t if)u ineurf){iug§ erftocf)eu."
„^aâ anbrc Cieb, ba§ t)ab' ii^ erbad]t
^yu einer fiufteru, [turmiirfieu 5îad)t :
„ilhi^t mit mir fet^teu auf Sebeu unb Sterben,"
Unb aber : 3hiBt fe(^tcu auf !!3eben unb Sterbeu,"
^a kijnV er bie -^arfe tt»ot)I an bcu îifrf)
Unb fie .^ogcn Beibc bie !Sd)lriertcr frifd)
Unb fod)teu (auge mit iDilbcm i£d)alle,
93iâ ber .iîbuig faut in ber liof)en .s^alIe.
,,'Jhin fiug' id) ha§ britte, haè fd)5uftc Cieb,
2)a5 iDerb' id) uimmer ^u fingeu miib' :
„-Rbnig Sifrib liegt in feim ' rotcn 23Iute,
Unb aber : „^>?iegt in feim rotcn 23Iute."
Ut)fanb.
* ©ieîie bie Dtet anbetn îcile.
1. id^nell. — 2. Ilann, côté. — 3. Iraîtreusemcit. — 4. no(^ etttmat. — fj. jeint = jcinem.
Die Entstehung der Welt nach der nordischen Mythologie.
Nicht Erde, nicht Himmel, nicht Meer war einst in der Urzeit '
vorhanden, nur ein unermefiiich grofier und tiefer, weitgâhnender
Abgrund - ; so heifU es in der altnordischen fcldda^
1. dans les premiers temps. — 2. Dieser, oiie uaerfalUe Rauin hicfi Ginoungagap, woitlich
Gaffeu der GiiUQungen.— 3. Den Nameu Kdda (GroftinuUer, Ahufrau) fiihreQ zwei versti ijdeoe
W-rke der altaordischea Lileialiir. Das eioe, das um das Jahr 1200 auf Island veifhfil
zu seiQ scheiut, ealhiilt poetische, das andere, jilQgere, prosaische DarsteHungen aus der
nordiachen Mythologie, sowie der nordiachen und germanischeo Heldensage.
^71 DEUTSGHER TEIL
« Einst war das Aller, da ailes niclit war,
Nicht Sand noch See noch salz'ge Welien,
.Nicht Erde l'and sich noch Uberliinimel :
Gahnender Abgruiid — aber Gras nirgends. »
Viele Jahrhunderte vor der Erschaffung der Erde bildete sich ani
Nordende dièses Aljgrundes die kalte Nebelwelt, Niflheim (Nebellieim)
genannt, an dem siidliclien Ende dagegeii die Flanimenwelt, Muspellieini :
hier war es hell und heii"^. Mitten in der Nebelwelt sprudelte eiii
rauschender Brunnen ; ans ihm ergossen sich zwôU' braiisende Strônie
in die unermelMiche Tiel'e von Ginnungagap und erfûllten die unendiiche
Leere allmàhlich mit ihren l'^luten. Uoch in der eisigen Ivàlte des Ab-
grundes erstarrten die Wassermassen zu Eis ; so schob sich eine Eislage
iiber die andere. In der nôrdiichen Hàlfte des Abgrundes herrschten nun
kalte Stiirme und Unvvetter*; die siidiiche Hàllte aber war von den
Feuerlunken, die aus der heiben Flammenwelt heriibertlogen, warni
und licht, so lau wie windlose Luft.
« Darin flogen Funken aus der siidliclien Welt,
Und Lohe gab Leben dem Eis. »
So begann es hier allmàhlich zu tropl'en und zu schmelzen. Die
Tropfen belebten sich. und aus ihnen erwuchs ein Riese, Ymir mit
Namen. Ymir ist der gàrende Urstofî% die Gesamtheit der noch unge-
schiedenen Elemente und Naturkràl'te, dasselbe, was die Griechen
sich unter Chaos dachten, aber personitiziert. Aus dieser Erzàhlung
ergibt sich : 1. dab Nitlheim die Urquelle ailes Sein sist ; 'i. dab das
Wasserder Grundstoff ist, aus dem Himniel und Erde gebildet sind;
3. dab das erste Leben, der Riese Ymir durch die Zusammenwirkung
von Hitze und Kalte entstand.
(Fortselzung folgt.)
Nach D' Adolf Lange [Deutsche GôUer-und Heldensagen)
und Karl SiiinocK {Handbuch, der Deulschen Hylhologie].
4. schlechtes Weller. — S. l'éléinent primitif.
(î'VtlàvuttQ ^cutfd)cr 28ortcr.
ïcr 192aun luiD iuo« ôamit ucrtvaudt ifl.
S)er yRann bebeutet eigeiitlic^ „ber Senfcnbe", benn eg fomiiit uoii beu itr
alleu 3iutn9en uiifereCi cjroBen ©pradjftQmmeô erl)alttMien 2Bur5e( man «benîen,
fid) evinnern" '. Dlad) inbifcf)er 9Jh)tt)e i[t Manus- „ber Senfeiibc", alleiit aiiô
ber groBen SBafferflut gevettet, ber ©tamniDater beôie^i9euTOen]d)enc3efd)Ied)tê,
gugleid) ber ciltefte defel^tgeber, ^4-^nefter unb ,Kôntg. %ud) bie ©ennaneii
rii^mten aU il^ren ©tammoater benMannus^, ben (So{)n beS îuiiâfo, ber beu
iibergang uon ber ©ottertuelt .'^ur 9Jîenfd)entDeIt bilbete unb auf beu bie
©euecUogen bie §auptftdmme juriicffiitirteu. ©auj basfelbe 3Sort loie 91lauu
tft baè unbeftimmte man in „ mon fagt, man cjlaubt k. ", Dom §aupttPort ju
\. 2llë ganj ficfjer barf btefe gttjinotogte nic^t gclten. — 2. gigentlid^ : Mann. — 3. Maunus
icf)etnt ein atlgemetner 9iame 3U fetn, htx ben ïfieniiîien bebeutet. Mon finbet t^n meïjrmal»
in tm)t:^ifcfien Sagen : lltaneê, ber erfte Konig ber St)ber ; 3Jîeneê, ber ggîj^jter ; 5]tino§, ber
fréter ; 9Jlanu, ber S^^^ë'^-
DEUTSCHER TEIL
[8]
bieiem ueraat3emeinernbcn • pmiorte t)erabt]e[unîen=, ^m '^Utbeutfc^en luirb
jciteâ .Ç)auptliuH-t mei[tenâ nid)t Deuanbert, iiiib fo ift e§ bei une erliaïten im
inilitûrifcï)en 5lit§bruc! „5lT3eitûufenb 3Ra\ui" iinb nid)t„ 53tajinec". 3iijammen=
gci'cW bûinit ift jcmand, cigentlicî) „irgenb ein 9Jknn", imb niemand, „nict)t
trgenb ein D.Uann". 3)a5 d ant ®nbe btefer bciben SBorter ge^ct iï)nen aifo
cigentïirf) niditjn ; eS ift, Uiie in uieïen anbereu îôortern, flidter Ï)in5ugetreten.
Meiisch abcv ift nrfpriinglid) ein l'ibieïtin nnb beifet ,^nnad)ft „bci- aViannifd)e",
23ei malinen îommen lt)ir inieber anf bie urfpriinglidje $8ebeutunt3 be§
StammeS: eS ï)eifet „einen benîen mac^en, crinnern". Meinen nnb miniien '^
^ei^en „benfen", iperben atter im 2lltbeutfd)cn meift in einer befonbern
^ebentnng gebrant^t: fie bebenten bort ha^j ftille, feï)nenbe'' ®enfen an bie
^eliebte, bie Siebe ju if)r. D3îeinen Derlor biefe Sebeutnng, nnr uia()rt fie nn§
ba§ alte èprid)Uuirt : „S)ey 9îeic^en S)emutmeint ©ott," nnb and) ©dicnfenborf ^
fingt nod) im alten Sinne beS SBorteS : ^fyreitieit, bie id) meine, bie mein
À^erj erfiillt." 9Jîinne t)erIor feit bem fùnf5e{)nten ^atirt)nnbert feine ebele
êcbentnng nnb nerfdiraanb bat)er au§ ber ^oefie. ©egen Snbe beS uorigen
3afirf)unbertS te()rte eê bann in btefelbe jnriicî, Siirger ^ unb 9JhIIer '"
brand)en c§ in il)ren Siebern, nnb e§ ï)at fid) jet^t inieber einen ïiol)en nnb
€l)renuollen ^laU in ber S)id)tnng gcmonnen. Setiteit bod) ©eibel " fein l)ol]eâ
Sieb bec fiicbe aB ,3-1iinneIieb" nnb preift in it]m bie «ffomme HHnuc, bauon
nnr ©ott im Rimmel tueifî". ©d}on im neunten ^a^rl)nnbert îommtbieêSSort
ûU tyranenname in ber g^orm Minna por, unb fo ï)at fid) biefer bi§ jet^t
erf)aïten. ®igentlid) gan^ iierfd)ieben baoon, aber oft bamit iiertanfd)t, ift ber
Ttame Mina ober Mine, eine i>ertiir,ying ané SBiltjelmine. 33iinna bebentet „ber
Siebling",nnbbiefe(be 3?ebeutung l)at Mii^non, auy©oett)ey îlMU)e(m93feifter'-
nnS pertrant, anS bem altbentfd)en Minna gebilbet, nac^bem baôfelbe fd)on
frii^ in bie <Sprad)e ©allienê eingefiitjrt toar.
(Uniere ÎJÎuttcripvaiïic unb i'^re ^ftege.
(iûifcl, 1879.)
\. qui généralise. — 5. SSergleic^e homme unb ou (lat. homo). — IJ. 35erfllei(ï)e lat.
memini, mens; frang. mentalité, mémoire, uîtt). — 7. plein d'aspiration. — 8. ©cboïcn
17S3, geftorben 1817. — 9. ©etoren 1747, geftorben 179i. — H». ©cborcn 17.-i0, geftorôcn
1814 — H. ©ciBel 18I:;=I884. — 12. 58eriif)mter $)ioman, in bem fid) ba§ befannte î'teb
finbet : ,, .«ennft bu ba§ Sanb, hJO bie ^itrouen bliil^u V
miitfcr.
1.
®ie erften finb ein Untertan',
^'ie le^te ift ein Untertan,
S)a§ ©an.^e ift ein Untertan,
®er Don bcin leljten Untertan
3Birb nnter ben erften Untertan
(§)(\\\l nntertcinigft getan.
* Ste L'bjung Ujcvbcn unierc Vefer in
ber nad^ften 'Diummer finben.
1. sujet.
2Bic foiift '.
©tubent 31. : „3fd) fd^tuanfe fet)r,
ob ic^ ï)ente anf bie ^neipe ^ ïommen
fott I"
©tnbent33. : „5)aâ ift nen. 9Jcad)'ê
Uiie fonft nnb fermante, trcnn bn
^nriidtommft I"
1 . îonft
58iet!^ûuâ.
= les autres fois. — 2.
Les Cinq Langues
N" 2. 20 Octobre 1907. 8 ^anée.
DEUTSCHER TEIL
Vermischte Nachrichten.
Man liest in einer Wiener Zeitiini;, dalj im Auftrage des deutsclien Kaisers
von seiner I^rivatkanzlei genau dnriïber Bach getuhrt wird, welchen Theater-
auftiihrungen der Kaiser beigewoiint fiat. >'ach jederu Tiieaterljesucli wird
vermerkt, in welclier Stadt, an welchem ïheater iind wann die Auffiihrung
statlfand, unter Beifiigung des Stùcktiteis und des Auto.rs. HandschriftlicliG
iiandbemerkungen ' des Kaisers vervoilstandigen dièse eigenarlige Statistik.
Ans diesem Grunde ist es zu erkliiren, dafî der Kaiser beim Anlalî einer
Festvorstellung im kôniglichen Theater zu Kassel, bel der <i Krieg im
Frieden » aufgefiihrt wurde, sagen konnte, es sei dies das 25. Mal, dafi er
dièses Theaterstiick sehe.
1. annotations marginales.
Sic (Bctniil&c ^cê ^dttitjéicittnantê.
II
^m ^Q^re 1895 abn tjelang eé bem nerbienfttioUen ©oetf)e=3:Dr)c^er '^Jrofeffor 3)r.
D. §euer Oom fyranïfurter ©oetf)e^9!]luîeitm nadijinueifen ', ba% ber ©roBneffe beô
grofliiïien DJlocenê, ©raf ©artouj;, in SUiouanê bn ©raffe eine 2tn5a^( biefer 23i(ber
befi^e. @ine 3(u§liiaf)I boDoit, elf an ber 3^^'. ^i^^ ^^i" 23efi^er bereitmiûigft 3ur
3?ran!furter ©oetf)e=3luêfteaung beè ^aijxeè 189o. Slfier t^r Stnïauf, hen innii
natiirlicE) in Sriuagnng 30g, fc^eiterte- an bem ]n ï)D'^en ^preife.
9)tan liracï)te bann nncf) unb nacf) in 6rfaf)rung % melc^e ê(ï)icfia(e bie gan3e groBe
Sammiung erfaf)ren ^aiU : 2tuè bem 53îajoratêicf)Ioffe ©raffe fjatte ber ©raf fcibft
einen Seil in fein 1714 erfcauteâ ïteineâ ^palaiê, ebenfaUê in ©raffe, û&ernomnien.
$8on bort jinb fie bmà) feine ®r6en nac^ S^oranc unb SOlouanâ û6erfûf)rt, nnr
cin ©alon bliefi unangetaftet. Unb gerabe biefen einen nnangetafteten ©alon getang
(ê nun Dor einigen SBoc^eu burcf) baè ©efcf)icf bes t)ieiigen -fêunft^dnblerë 3nfiu^
©olbfdimibt nad) S^ranïfurt gu bringen. Gq luar begreiflic^, baB fofort ber ÎÔnnfc^
auftau(^te, btefer ©c^a^moge ni(ï)t nur Doriidergefjenb f)ter jur Scf)au geftellt, fonbern
3U bauernbem Sefi^ fur ba§ SJ^ufeum erinorben toerben.
©eit einigen Sagen ift nnn, bant ber ^Jreigebigïeit beïannter ^iefiger ,Sunftfreunbe,
an(^ biefer 2Qunf(^ in ©rfûllung gegangen. Sie ©cmàtbe biefeê efiemaligen grcifUdjen
Salonê im ^^alaië uon ©raffe, 80 an ber S<^^U finî^ je^t gigentum beè ©oetfje:
SJlufeumê. a^orlaufig '■ finb fie uod) ntc^t offentlicf) auôgeftellt. 9)lan mirb bamit
nocf) geraume 3f't ix'arten, biè ber bringenb nbtige 3(nban bes 9Jhtfeumê £)crgeftetft
1. piouver. — 2. échoua. — :i. on apprit peu à peu. — 4. pr visoirement.
[7j AL EV.
10 UEUTSCHER TEIL [50]
fein Uiirb, ber biêï)er freilicf) nocf) iii(ï)t begonuen ift. ©é Wax une aber bergonnt,
bev fioc()bebeutîamen Sommlung nn if|ver je^igen 2tuf£)ett)a^vungëfteïïe, in berfelben
ÎJlanfarbe beé juieiten StocEuierfeë in ©oetf)eê 93ater:^aufe, \vo fie entftanben finb,
einen ïïefutï) abjuftotten. ©ie finb l^ier Oorlaufig ganS ïunftioê uebeneinanbev
unb iUicveinanber aufgeftem, fpater whb mon nûd§ ben genauen 3ei(^nungen, bic
man ï)aul.itfà(ï)Ii(ï) bev ftingebenben-' Slrbeit beê ^rofefforê Ctto donner v. Dîic^ter
nerbauït, ben ©aïon genau fo l)evfteïlen, trie er im ©c^Ioffe 3U ©raffe jur 3eit beê
,$lonigêIeutnant5 fidf) prdfentierte.
2)ie a3ilbev finb nidjt etma îapetcn, Uiie mon nai) ©oetf)e§ SBortcn — bie SBilbei"
feien nid)! in ',Raf)men eingefafet geluefen, fonbern Ijiitten aie 2apetenteile ouf bie
SSnnb befeftigt merben foîlen — uietlcii^t î)atte onnel^inen îbnnen, fonbern récite unb
ec^te ©emdïbe. ®ê finb grofee r^einifd^e 2anbfct;aften non Bà)ù^ barunter, ferner
einè ber ,, rembranbifierenben " (nacÇi ©oetbeê Sluêbrud) ©tiicïe non Srautmann
(,,S)aô tvojanifdje 'i^ferb mit bent brennenben 2roja") unb nor aiïem 3lr)o(f f(|male,
bie ganje 3immevf)olie einnef)inenbe 2afcln Don (geetaj. ollegorifrf) bie ^\X)bi^ DJlonate
nerïorpernb. 3n i^nen finb bie gefc[)macfooUen gioïoforaïimen tion 9îotf)nagel erljalten.
^ebeê 9)lonatôbiIb 3etgt in bev 93litte eine entfpvei^enbe Sanbfcfiaft mit eincv
^inberfjene bariiber nevfinnbitblic^t'', unb barunter uiieber je eine anmutige ^inber=
gruppe. 2luf bem einen bev Silbev, bem SIprif, erïennt mou beutlic^ ©oett)e unb
feine Sd)Uieftev (yornelia, in einer §nltung, bie bem beïannteu @eeïa3fd^en fïami=
ïienpovtvdt iibevanè d^nlit^ ift.
(S(^Iu&.)
,,58erliner Sagebïatt". juni 1907.
'6. dévoué. — 6. symbolisé.
^ic dcutfdte îrtttîfitvtc.
2Uif bem 16. S)eutfd)en 3;an3Ïet)rertag, ber tiov 3iini DJlonûten in Sreêben ftûttfanb,
umrbe bie nom 2l(lgemeinen beutfdien Spvndioerein l)evausgegebenc beutfc^e 3:an3favte
eingef)enb ' liefpvod)cn. îJhin erfanntc loot)! bic Seftvebnngen beé Spvac^neveinô an -,
blieb abex bei einem fvii()even Sîef d)(uffe,inonad) bie bi5()erigen îran3bfifd)en i?ommanbo=
tuorte bei bev Ouabritte unb g^rançaife fo lange beibel^alten luerben fotlen, bi§ in
ber beutfd)en ©prad)e ein noïïftcinbiger ©rfalj » bafiir gefunben ift. S)er 2liïgemeine
beutfd)e Sprad)Ocvein foU aufgefovbevt '* loerben, btcébe3iiglid}e ©c^vitte 3U tun. ®ie
nom ©pvad)lievein oovgefd)tagenen beutfdien Dîamen fiiv 2dn3e muvben gleic^fallô bev
^^evfammlung uovgelegt. Sev ^evein fd)ldgt fiiv J-vanraifc oov: ^ran^ofifdjer Oîeigen,
fiir Ouabritte bi)fifd)er Dteigen, fiiv ^otitton 9ieigenfpiel ober ©efeltfdiaftêtan , fitr
^olondfe 23egriiBungë3ug ufiin
1. d'une manière approfondie. — -2. crïanntc... on, rendit hommage à. — 3. éiiuivaieut. —
4. uivilé.
Der Pferdekauf.
Âber es war gar nicht so leicht, ein passcndes Pferd zu bekommen. 1 nier
den vielen, die aiif dem Markt waren, stand keines dem Pastor so rccht an'.
Lnd wandte er sich an Christian, der, mit der Peitsche bewaffnet, nebenihm
1 . eefiel.
1511 DEDTSCHER TEIL 11
herstapfte '^ und fragte den um seine Meinung, so bekani er regelmâfîig zm-
Antwort : « So fermos ^ wie nnser Hans ist es nicht ! » Dariiber wurde der
Pastor schliefjlich aut'gebracht * iind sagte : « I du verflixter •"' thiiringischer
Querkopf'% so sache allein. Ich gehe in den schwarzen Hirsch, wo unser
Wagen steht, und trinke eins. Hast du ein passendes gefunden, so sag es
mir ! » Aber auch Christian fand keines und ging, als es zu dunkeln begann,
auch in den Hirsch, uni auch eins zu trinken. Man mufite eben im Hirsch
iibernachten. Vielleicht batte man ani nachsten Tage niehr Gliick.
Cnd man batte es. Zwanzig Schritte vom Hirsch stiefi man am andern
Morgen aufeinen Trupp Zigeuner ^ der ein Pferd zu Markte fi'ihrte, ein Bild
von einem Pferde. Der Pastor und Christian, die beide fiirchterliche
Kopfschmerzen hatten — nicht etwa vom immer noch eins trinken, sondern
vom Herumlaufen und dem Markttrubel — blieben wie angewurzelt stehen.
Das Pferd stach ihnen in die Augen : ein kohischwarzer Rappe, tadellos
gebaut, vorùbermut tanzelnd, mit glanzendem Fell und feurigem Blick —
den mufîten sie haben.
Kaum bemerkten die Zigeuner, dali den beiden das Pl'erd getiel, so waren
sie um sie herum und schwatzten auf sie ein. Sie schwuren bei aUen
Heiligen, das Pferd sei erst sechs .labre ait und fehlerfrei. Der Pastor kam
fast um^ vor Kopfschmerzen und batte keine Lust, herumzulaufen und zu
handeln und kaufte den Rappen fiir hundert Taler. Christian halte eben so
schHmme Kopfschmerzen, aber doch noch so viel Verstand, dafî er sagte:
« Ich glaube, die Kerle haben dem Rappen Arsenik eingegeben, deshalb ist
er so feurig, und die Zabne, an denen man das Alter erkennt, haben sie
mit Sandpapier poliert ». Aber da kam er beim Pastor schon an ^ « Misch dich
nicht in Angelegenheiten, die dich nichts angehen », schnaubte '° der Pastor,
« und traue einem ehrlichen Christenmenschen nicht solcbe Schlechtig-
keiten zu '• ».
[Forts etzung folgt.)
Rudolf Braun'e-Roêla.
2. sch\verf;Ulig ging. — 3. famos, gut. — 4. zornig. — 3. euphémisme pour vertiuchter
[maudit). — 6. mauvaise télé. — 7. Bohémiens. — 8. mourait. — 9. il fut bien reçu
(ironique]. — 10. gronda. — 11. Iraue . . . zu, attribue.
^cvt>mtuttm\mçi.
SSalber, brauiujolbig, fterbenâfrol) —
Sonne barûbeu nnb Otegenfdjaueu —
^fc^e im ^ecjen inirb roieber to{)',
3JUlbe baâ ©terben, felig bie Xrauer,
Unb iDie ber î^alî nm bie î^dïen treift,
Sct)liiingenfic^er^ tt)iegt fid) ber ©eift.
^ûr( 2Beitbi-ed)t.
(@eï). 1847.1
1. glûïjenb. — 2. confiant en ses ailes.
Umwandlung der Elemente.
Die neuesten Forschungen Sir William Ramsays.
In den dunkelsten Zeiten des Mitteialters, als die Wissenschaft vom Aber-
glauben ' gefesselt am Boden lag, waren zahllose Pseudogelehrte, die soge-
1. superstition.
12
DEUTSCHER TEIL
[52]
a^St^^
Sir William Ramsay.
nannten Alchimisten, in ihren von spukharteni - Kram ■' angelullten Zellen
cifrig hestrebt, den « Stein der Weisen » zu finden, dem die Kraft inné,
wohnen sollle, einen Stoff in den anderen-
insbesondere billige Stoffe in Gold zu ver-
wandeln. Das beginnende Zeitalter der
Aufklàrung* batte diesen Humbug^ mit dem
eiscrnen Besen der inzwiscben erkannten
physikalischen Griindgesetze hinausgekehrt
und batte festgestellt, dafj eine iiber-
fiihrende Brïicke zwischen den Eiementen
nicht bestehe, da6 Blei Blei, Zinn Zinn sei,
und dafi keines von beiden jemals Gold
werden kônne.
Aber o Wunderl In den heutigen ïagen,
da die physikaliscbe Forschung in kurzen
Abstànden ^ immer ncue Wunderkinder ge-
biirt, beginnt der alte Traum der Adepten
wieder lebendig zu werden. Diesmal aber
nicbt als ein scheues Gespenst", das sich
hinter seltsam geformten Retorten ^ mit
unheimlich dampfenden Fliissigkeiten ver-
birgt, sondern als das gesunde Kind exakter Forscliung im sonnen-
durchstrahlten modernen Laboralorium.
Die Wissenschaft bat die Anschauungen von der strenj^en Scbeidung^ der
einzelnen Elemente schon wieder verlassen. Sic ist zwar heuie so wenig wie
das Mittelalter imstande, Blei in Gold iiberzufiihren, aber es bat eine
Période begonnen, in der man den einen StoH' in den anderen verwandten
ûbergeben sieht. Die Elemente stehen nicbt mehr nebeneinander wie die
Biiume des Waldes, jeder mit eigener Wnrzel, sondern es zeigt sich zwischen
ihnen eine Affînitat, die auf einen einzigen gemeinschat'tlichen L'rsprung
binweist. In der Ferne dammert die Abnung einer Urmaterie '^ auf, und wenn
v.ir heu le nur in bescbranktestem Mafie imstande sind. ein Elément in das
andere iiberzufiihren, so ist auch der Mann der strengen ^Vissenschaft iiber-
zeugt, dafi der l'mwandlung der Elemente nicht durch die Natur uniiber-
windbare" Hindernisse geboten sind, sondern dafî nur unsere immer noch
mangelhaften Instrumente und unsere noch immer iiufjerst liickenhafte '-
Erkenntnis der tiefsten Geheimnisse der Natur daran die Schuld tragen.
In fast aiien grofien Laboratorien sucht man jetzt an dieser eisernen Tiir
zu riitteln, die vorliiufig nur ein ganz kleines Spilltchen freigegeben liât. Der
beriihmte englische Cbemiker Sir William Ramsay, der Entdecker des
Argons und des Heliums in unserem l>uftmecre. ist einer der eifrigsten und
glûcklichsten Vorkiimpfer'^ auf diesem Gebiete. In einem in der neuesteu
Nummer der Zeitschrift « Nature » verôffentlicbten Biiefe macht er Mittei-
lung von grôfseren Ergebnissen seiner Bemiihungen uni die l'mwandlung
der Elemente.
(Forlsetzung folgt.)
A. F.
Ôsti'rreicliisclii' Hamldaschitl-Zeitunu _
2. fantastique. — 3. bric à brac. — 4. rationalisme. -^ 5. bouffonnerie. —
6. intervalles. — 7. spectre timide. — 8. cornuea. — 9. séparation. — 10. matière
primitive. — 11. insurmontable. — \2. incomplète. — i'i. champions.
53^ DEUTSCHER TEIL V,]
^iïttittcvtfonovixrc.
5^ie ,^ettgen5fft)"rf)cn ' bifbcnben .Ëiinftler finb in ber cjlMIic^en Sage,
fi'ir it)re 2Berfc recf)t bctrdd)tltd)c - §onorare 511 ert)aïten. ^n fni{]erer 3cit
floB ber ©olbregen nid fd^tDad^er an] bie ^îiinftler nieber. ^m fiinfjefintcn
^çQÎirtlunbert Dcrbientc ^ugo Uan ber @oc§, ein ©coûter beê ^an Dan
èi)cf, tdgiirf) 17 5Jîarî. 9.1Ud)eIange(o uitb Sionarbo ba 9]inci tierbienten
inonatlicf) 515 Wiaxt. Dîaffneï befam, ntê eu fcf)on im ^enitl) beS 'Hulimeo
ftaiib, fiir ein bebeiitcnbeô 33ilb 4 000 SJÎarf. 9Jlid)clange(o erfiieït fiir
bie 5(uôfd)mûcfung ber ©irtinifd)en ^apelle :225OO0 9Jiarî, ûber er arbeitete
nier nolie ^at)re baran. Sorreggio betam fitr fein 93i(b „Sl)rifhi§ ûuf bem
016 erg" — 88 93îarï ; er malte bie ganje -ftuppel beê 2)om5 511 5)}arma fiir
bcnfelben ^reiô, mit bem fic^ aud) Oîaffaeï fiir jebeô fciner 58i(ber in ben
(Stan5en ' begniigen muBte. Xiirer gab eine 5eber5eid)nnng fiir — 100
îlnftern lueg; fiir ein CIbilb beê -Uonig» non S)dnemarf ert)iett er 600 DJîarf,
unb ba§ inar eineâ feiner beften (Sefd)dfte. dlaâ) feinem Slobe ftiegen jebod)
fcine 5Bilber fef)r im ^reife, fo ha\] balb eine gan^e Slnjat)! fa{fd)er S)iirer
auf bem 93larîte erfd)ien. ®ie^^>reife, bie Dtnbenâ ert)iett, fc^tnanften 5ini]d)en
:250 nnb 11-200 D.lînrf ; non Ttaïia non 53bbici befam er fiir jebeé Silb
4 6-40 9Jlarî. inin ^i)cf ert)ictt fiir feine 5Biïbniffe 860=^2000 53carf, 9hmbranbt
etma ebenfoniel. 'Jhtr ein ein^igeô Silb, bie beriif)mte „dlo.à:)t\vad)e" , brad)te
it)m mebr, nnb jtnar 6 000 DJkrî. 3>ela3que3 i)atte ein 3fittli-'e§einfommen
non 6000 53îorf ; baôSd)Iimmc inar nnr, baf? er eS mandimal nid)t anSge^al)!!
betam.
1. coutemporains. — 2. appréciables. — 3. ^^dpftlic^e ©emcti^er im iNOtitan.
Die Entslehung der Welt nach der nordischen Mythologie.
Il
Vmir fiel in tiefen Schlaf und begann zu schwitzen ' : da erwuchs ihm
iinter seinein linken Ariii ein Sohn und eine Tochter, und seine Fiifie
erzeugten einen sechshiiuptigen Riesen. Yon ihnen stammt das Geschlecht
der Frostriesen oder Reifriesen.
Neben dem Riesen Ymir vvar aus den geschmolzenen Eistropfen auch
eine ungeheure Kuh entstanden ; aus ihrem Euter rannen vier Milch-
strôme, von denen Ymir sich nàhrte. Die Kuh beleckte die Eisbiôcke,
welche saizig waren ; da wo sie leckte, kam am Abend des ersten Tages
xMensçhenhaar zum Yorschein, am zweiten Abend eines Mannes Haupt.
a m dritten Tage der ganze Mann ; dieser war schôn von Angesicht, grol'î
und stark. Sein Sohn vermâhlte sich mit einer Riesentochter ; aus ihrer
Ehe entsprossen Odin (W'odan) und seine Briider, die x\sen. Dièse Asen-
gôtter baiiten nun das Weltall, das bis dahin noch ode war, weiter aus.
Znerst erschlugen sie den bôsen Reifriesen Ymir; aus seinen Wunden
schol'i das Blut in so slarken Strômen hervor, dah aile Reifriesen darin
ertranken bis auf einen. Derseibe bestieg mit seinem \Yeibe ein Root
1. transpirer.
14 DEUTSCHER TtIL 54 J
und entging so dem Tode ; von diesem Paare stammte das neiie Reit-
riesengesch ledit ab.
Ymirs ungeheuren Leichnam warfen die Asen mitten in die Tiefe
des Abgrundes und bildelen ans ihm die Welt. Ans dem Blute, das aus
seinen Wunden getlossen war, machten sie das Weltmeer, aus seineni
Fleische die Erde ; dièse bildeten sie kreisrund und legten das Meer
rings uni sie her. Lângs den Seekûsten wiesen sie den Riesen ihre
Wohnstâtten an. Wie ein umgekehrter Teller ist die Erde nach der
Yorstellung des gerinanischen Altertums an den Ràndern tlacher als die
mittlere Rundung. Diesen ûber die ilacheren Rànder sich erliebenden
Mittelraum aber bildeten die Asen, indem sie aus den Augenbrauen
Ymirs nuch innen rund um die Erde eine Burg wider die Anfâlle der
Riesen bauten und dieselbe den kiinftigen Menschengeschlechtern zum
Wohnsitze bestimmten ; die Burg nannten sie Midgard, althochdeutsch
Mittilagart, d. i. Mittelraum. Aus Ymirs Knochen gestalteten die Asen
die Berge, ans seinen Zahnen, seinem Kinnbacken und zerbrochenen
Gebein die Felsen und zerkiiii'teten Klippen, aus den Haaren die Baume ;
aus seinem Schâdel formten sie das Himmelsgewolbe und spannten
es hoch iiber die Erde aus ; des Riesen Gehirn aber warl'en sie in die
Luft und machten die Wolken daraus. Dann tingen sie die Feuerfunken
auf, welche von Muspelheim, der FJammenwelt, ausgeworfen umhertlo-
gen, uud setzen sie als Gestirne an das Himmelsgewolbe, um Himmel
und Erde zu erhellen ; jedem Himmelslichte schrieben sie seinen
bestimmten Gang vor, wonach Tage und Jahre berechnet werden. Nun
liefi auch die Erde Pllanzen hervorsprossen.
A m Meeresstrande wandelnd fanden daraul" Udin und seine Brùder
Honir und Loki zwei Biiume, Esche (Ask) und Ulme (Kmbla) ; dièse
nahmen sie und schufen sie zu Menschon, zu Mann und W'eib um, indem
jeder der drei Gôtter ihnen besondere Gaben spendete, wie es in der
Edda heiht :
« Gingen da dreie.
Miichtige, milde Asen zumal,
Fanden am Ufer unmiiclitig
Ask und Embla und oline Bestimmung.
Besaften nicht Seele, hatten nicht Sinn,
Nicht Blut noch Bewegung noch bliihende Farbe :
Seele gab Odin, Hunir gab Sinn,
Blut gab Loki und bliihende Farbe. «
Dem neugeschafîenen Menschenpaare, den Stammeltern des Menschen-
geschlechtes, wiesen die Asen Midgard, die Menschenerde, zur Wohn-
stàtte an.
(Schlufj.)
Nach D'' Adolf Lange (Deutsche Gôtter und Heldensagen) _
und Karl Simrock {Handfiuck der Deutschen Mythologie).
An den Mond
0 holder Mond, heut wieder denkich desseii,
Wie auch vor Jahresfrist ich diesen Hùgel
Betrat, von Leiderlûllt, dich zu betrachten :
Siehe die vier andern Teile.
[55' DEUTSCHER TEIL 15
Und ûber jenem Walde hingst du damais,
Wie niin du drûber hiingst, ihn ganz erhellend.
Doch nebelhaft und zitternd ob ' der ïriinen,
Die quollen auf die Wimper mir, erschien
Dein Antlitz meinem Aug'; denn traurig war
Mein Leben damais, und isl' s noch, und andert
Sich nimmer, o geliebter Mond ! Und doch
Ist mir Erinnerung lieb und meines Leides
Betrachtung ! 0, wie sùb ist's. in der Jugend,
Die lange Hoffnung bat und kurz Gedàchtnis,
Yergangues still bedenken, ob auch traurig
Der Sinn, und altes Leid noch imnier wàhret t
Leopardi (1798-1837).
[Uhersetzt von R. Hamerling,)
1. wegen.
Die Anfànge der Kunstausstellungen.
Woher stainmt die Bezeichnung « Salon », die in Prankreich den
grofien Kunstausstellungen gegeben wird, und die gelegentlich ' auch
in Deutschland fur derartige Yeranstaltungen Yerwendung tîndet?
Dièse Frage beantwortet der Gaulois folgendermafjen : Als die Aus-
stellungender « Herren Mitgliederder kôniglichen Akademie fi'ir Malerei »
zuerst organisiert wurden, fanden sie unter iVeiem Himmel im Garten
des Palais Royal statt. Im Jahre 1669 wanderten die Aussteller dann
in die Grofee Galerie des Louvre, die sich jedoch als zu umfangreich-
erwies und in zwei Abteilungen zerlegt \vurde. Im Jahre 172o siedelten
die Kûnstler mit ihren Ausstellungen in den « Salon carré » des Louvre
liber ■', und seit dieser Zeit ist die Bezeichnung « Salon » fiir Kunstaus-
stellungen ûberhaupt aufgekommen und bat sich bis in unsere Tage
erhalten. Der Salon blieb lange in dem erwahnten Saale : da er jedoch
bald fur die grobe Zabi der Aussteller zu klein wurde, wurden ver-
schiedene benachbarte Galérien hinzugenommen. Es war damais die
gliickliche, die juryfreie ^ Zeit : jeder Kûnstler konnte seine Werke ohne
weiteres im Salon ausstellen. Als unter der Julimonarchie der Louvre
Nationalmuseum wurde, wurdeii die Ausstellungen abermals in das
Palais Royal verlegt ; dann mubten sie noch mehrfach umziehen ■, bis
sie sich endlich im Jahre 1837 in dem màchtigen Industriepalast
festsetzten.
1. daiiD uud wann. — 2. grofi. — 3. siedelten... iiber, émiyrèrnit. — 4. ^vo es keine
Jury gab. — 5. déménager.
16 DEUTSCHER TEIL [56]
Ùber die Ameisen.
Der berùhinte Sclnveizer Gelelirte August Forel liieit vor eiiiigeii
Wochen im Beethoven-Saai zu Berlin eineii lehrreichen Vortrag' ûber
die Biologie der Ameisen. Was der Professorausdem Leben dieser kleiiien
Tiere erzàhlte, slûtzte sich anssclilieftUch auf die Ergebnisse wissen-
schaftlicher Forschungen "-'. Der Ameisenstaat zeigt eine idéale Kons-
truktion, wiedieJVIenschheit sienoch nicht erreichthat. Fin Ameisenreicli
besteht in vollster Ordnung ohne Gesetze und Polizei, jeder einzeinc
Biirger dièses Staates opfert sich in jedem Augenbliclv trendig liir das
Ganze, und kein Individuiim arbeitel lùr sich allein, sondern aile
streben^* nach einem gemeinnïitzigen Ziel.
Man kennt heute bereits fi'inl'taasend verschiedene Ameisenarlen.
Unter ihnen allen herrscht der Polymorphisnius, das heiftt, sie weisen
mehr als zwei, oit bis zu iunf Geschlechtern auf. Die vier hâufigsten
sind Mânnchen, Weiltcheu, Arbeiter und Soldat. Das Miinnchen hat
das kleinste Gehirn und dient, wie bei den Bienen, ausschliefilich der
Fortpllanzung. .ledes ^Veibchen vermag viele tausend Eier zu legen.
Jedes der Tierchen hat zwei Miinde. Der eine fiihrt in den Individual-,
der andere in den Gemeinschaftsmagen. Dieser dient als Vorratssack,
um die an irgendeinem Orte aulgenominene Nahrung ins Nest zu
transportieren, \vo die Speise vôUig unverdaut erbrochen und der
Gemeinschalt zugiinglich gemacht wird. Bei dem nun ibigenden Fressen
dirigiert jedes einzelne Individuum die Nahrung in den eigentlichen
mit Verdauungsvverkzeugen versehenen Eigenmagen.
Dab die Ameisen Blattliiuse als Kiihe halten und sie regeirecht melken.
ist bekannt, noch seltsamer als die Tierhalterei ist jedoch ihre Gàrtner-
kunst. Sie ^Àichlen* in ihrem liau auf einem Beet, das ans zermahlenen
Blâtlern bereitet wird, mit grober Knnst und Miihe einen Pilz% dessen
Wucherungen ihnen kôstliche Nahrung sind.Ja, sie beherbergen '' Kiiter,
deren zarte Haaré sie als Leckerbissen verzehren, und die auf das
Ameisengehirn liilimend wirken • wie der .\lkohol auf den Menschen.
Die Orientierung der Ameisen eriolgt durch ihren aufs feinste
gebildeten Geruchssinn. Das Organ hierfiir sitid die Fïihler, nach deren
Verlust die Ameise geistig tôt ist, wiihrend der Yerlust der Augen nur
geringfiigige Stôrungen hervorruft.
1. conférence. — 2. résultats de recherches scieutitiqucs. — 3. tendent. — 4. cultivent,
-a. champignon. — 6. hébergent. — 7. paralysent.
Besser gesagt.
« Wissen Sie, Ihr ncuer Kassierer scheint nicht ganz auf der Hôhe der
Bildung ' zu stehen, er verwechselt oft vdi- und rnich. »
« 0, da ist er immer noch besser als der alte, der vorwechselte ôfter
mein und dein. »
1. auf dei' Huhe der Bildung -- sehr gebildel, gelehrt.
JRrttfctitufloîuna : 1. Sticfelfiiedjt.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 3. 5 Novembre 1907. 8« Année.
DEUTSCHER TEIL
Sltcrrttifdjc ^atfdjct'.
^n ben '^dim eiiier f)of)en iJ3ere()rmitî ber '-Bevijûiigenf)eit, 6e)Diiberê iii beii Stiifdngcit
romantifi^cr Setocgungen, in benen fid^ bie beften ©eifter ben uergeffetieu ©djd^cu ber
33Dr3eit - toieber jinueubeu, treten ûlé erfldrlicfje 23eg(eiter)cf)etnungen ^ fold} eblen
©trebenê getoofinUtf) auc^ bie literuïifc^en tydlicfiiutgen auf. Sie Êeginnenbc JRoiiiantiï
iii Ênglanb um bie 50Utte beè ai^tjefjnten 3'af)rt)unbertê foinie bie beutfc^e 9lomantif
am Stnfatig beê neunjefjtiten 3iif)i-"^unbertê ^a6en eiue 3teif)e foI(^er [fdlfi^ungeix
^evDorgerufen. 9J];acpf)er)on ''^ trat juerft mit O^ragmenten auâ ben §elbenliebern beë
Cffian ï)crnor, unb eè bauerte lange, (ne man bie ganj moberne ©timmung'^ in
biefen arcî)aiïcf) unb Uiunberfûm unrfcnben ©efdngen cntbecîte. ©tniter [teûte fid) aller=
bingQ ^erauê«, bafe 9Jîacp{)erion biefen ©ebic^ten alte §elbengefdnge ju ©runbe gelegt
ï)atte ■'. 3tuô ,,gotifi$er"Ur3eit batierte ber feine SÛeltmann §orace ÏÛalpoIe ** feinen
graufig Uiilben Sîoinan ,,®aê ©d^Io^ Don Otranto", unb ein ïïldrhjver bi'feê
5dl)(ï)ertumë toarb 21)omaâ (ïf)atterton ^ ber ,,2Bunberfna5e Don Sriftol", ber jeine
eigenen, oon mdd)tiger "^otixt unb Stnfcfiaunng erfiillten ©ebic^te aiî bie oon if)m
entbecften 5Jlanuftripte bes S^loncfieo SfoluIet) auégab. S)a er feine f)artnIoîj unb noio
angelegte 3}erfieibung '" nic^t geuïigenb loa^rte, unb ha fein ©ônner '' 9BaIpo(e,
Derdrgert itder bie Stufbedung ber oon if)nt aie ed^t 6e3eic^neten t^dlfc^ung, feine §anb
oon if)m abjog, ging er aH fietrogener Setriiger jammerooll 3ugrunbe. 5t^nlic^e
9}li)ftififationen fleineren Stileê finb in ber 5riif)3eit ber beutfcîien 3îomantif nid^t
felten. ÏUar eô ein iiberniiitiger ^ugenbflreit^ 2Bacîernage(é '-, mit einenx a(tbeutfc^en
©ebic^t eigener ^yabritation feine gelel^rten ^-reunbe an3Ufiit)ren unb fetbft Vacfimann'^
t)inein3ulegen '^, fo brac^ten bie 3al}Ireicf)en §erau§geber oon beutfc^en ,,S^ronifen'
eigene SBerte luirïtirf) aie ©i^opfungen beê 9)littetalterê auf ben SDlarft. 9îoiî) SerIio3
oerf uc^te fein Oratorium oon ber ,,^inbbeit (Ef)rifti" aie baâ SSerï eineô Jîomponiften
^pierre Sucré auê bem fieb3ebnten 3af)vt)unbert ein3ufit^ren. ©rofeeê 3("tereffe
erregten im bentfc^en fiefepublifum jafjrelang bie Sieber beê ,,9Jiir3a ©c^afflj", mit
beffcn ïltamen ^^riebric^ aîobenftebt '^ bie ©(^i^pfungen feiner orientalifcfien ^erèîunft
gefrf^miicft I)atte. SIber folc^e (Jalfc^ungen finb 3um grofeen ïeil in guter. 3lbfic^t "^
auâ 23egeifterung ober itbermut, jebenfatlê ni(^t alô Oerbrec^erifcI;er 33etrug
uuternommen.
6ô gibt ober aud; literarifd^e ^ydlfii^er, beren gau3e ïdtigfeit ein raffinierter, bdufig
mit ftaunenôloerter ©efc^icflicfiteit burcf}geflif)rter ©cf)toinbet i' ift. ©in foli^er ^dlfc^er
loar 3um Seifpiel §ermann lîqrieleië, ber, mit einem gldn3enben p^ilologifc^en
1. faussaires. — 2. passé. — 3. phi^ooiuènes secondaires. — 4. vidjottifc^er ©ele^ïter
(17364796). — 5. 5eeïe. — 6. faub man. — 7. s'était inspiré de. — 8. 1717=1797. — 9.
©eboren 1752, bcrgiftete fid) 1770. — 10. déguisement. — 11. pmteeleiir.— 12. 1806=1869.
— 13. Setiil^mter $^iIoIo8 (1793=1851). — 14. tromper. — 15. SBobenftebt : 1819=189:\ —
16. intention. — 17. filouterie.
[13] ALLBM 3
18 DEOTSCHER TEIL [98J
Valent begabt, bie C)riginaït)anbfcî)riît Cut^erê aufê tduf(ï)enb[te uac^3uaï)men Uerftanb
unb eine gro^e 2tn3af)t Don Sittf)er=iîalf(^ungen, barunter anâ) ben ïejt Don „@tn'
fefte SSitrg ift unfer ©ott", in ben |)anbeï gebrac^t ï)at. ^n @nglanb trot ein toa'^r=
fc^einliiï) cui'j ^ranîi-eicC) ftammenber ©tïiunnbler ^[atmanajar cntf, ber Dorgali '^ in
i^ormoi'n geboren 311 fein, eine eigene (Spracfie Don Q^ormofa erfanb unb in
Sonbon ju [)o{)ein 5lnfe{)en*^ unb reic^em 23erbienft gelangte. @r iiberfe^te ba§
engïif(ï}e ©ebetbuc^ im 5ïuftrage beê Sifd^ofê Don Sonbon in feine, eigenê Don
if)m erfunbcne ©pvad)e Don ^^ormofa. ®tn anberer O^ranjofe, S^rain^Sucaê, betvog
cinen '^ciDorragenbcn 3)îatî)cmatiïer 93li(^el (ïf)a§ïeê mit gefdlfiïjtcn ïïricfen. Sr ïiefe
in cineni altcvtiiinlirOen 3'-ran30)if(ï) bie griec^ifc^e S)id)terin ©appf)o unb bie fîonigin
^leopatra, ^n'in^ (îdfar unb ^yercingetorij-, 5Jiaria 5Jlagbaïena unb ben aufgciriecîten
Sa^aruê, SJlontaigne unb Dtabelaiê S3riefe fd^reiben, bie er 6f)a§Ieê Derïaufte. O^ûv
bicfe a3vicfe îie^nblte ber betijrte ©eïeljrte 120 000 3[Raiï, unb bie ganae gvoteêïe
®iipievung mare )ual)rf(ï)einlic^ nie anè ^i(ï;t geîommen, toenn ÎBrain^fiucaê nic^t
auô ^^^ntriotiêmuë einige 23iiefe Don Caecal gefdlfiïjt t)dtte, bie beuieifen foïlten, ba^
nid^t 9îelDton, fonbcrn ber Sid^ter ber ,,^eniéeè" baô ©cfe^ ber ®d)lDere gefunben
l^obe. S^aêleê Derfodit ouf ©runb biefcr SSriefe bie ^Prioritdt ^paêralê in me^reren
Slbl^nnblungen^", unb bie ganje geïel^rte 2BeIt Icarb ouf eine ïur3e 3fit i» Sh'ei
fcinblic^e 2ager gefd)ieben, bie ûber bie grogeren SSerbienfte DJewtoné unb ^Poêcaïâ
ï)in unb ber ftritten. 9lber balb fam bie 3^d()d)nng Don '•lh-ain=8ncaê 3utage, unb obmoï)I
er fid) Dor ©erid)t rii()mte, 3uni 58eftcn feineé iiîaterlanbeê bie 93riefe gefdjriebeu 3U
Ijaben, njurbe er bod) 3U 3U)ei 3af)ïen ©cfangnia Dcrurteilt.
18. prétendait. — 19. considération . — 20. dissertatious.
Der Pferdekauf.
m
Der K;i|i|)(' wiinlc gekaiift iind .soforl vor (Icii W;i;4Pn gospjimil, d(Min don
Pasloi- Iricl) es heim ', liutl'lc er docii, in der IVeien l.iift wiirdcn seine
Koprsclimcr/.en vcri^elicii (^lirislian hotTle ITir die seineii dasselbe. Der
Uappe iiiiizcllc zur Sladt liinaiis, zog mil Eleganz den leicliien Wagen und
schliig von selitst den Weg ein, der iiach Hoizdorf lïihrt. Ctiristian war es so
janinieriich zu Mute, dafe ilmi das nicht aiil'liel. A1)er als n)an an den Hell-
doi'fer Rreuzweg kani inul dei- Happe aucii hier oline weiteres den riclitigen
Weg einschlug, stulzle^ Christian : « Das Tier weil'i in der Gegend vei'tlixt
Besclieid ^, » sagte er.
« Warum soll es niehl?» erwiderte der PasLor und grill' sich an den
schmcrzenden Kopf, « die Zigeuner kuninien ja liberall ht'rum. » Kurzhinler
dein Kreiizweg verlangsanite* der Rappc das Tempo liedcnklich''. « Sehen Sie,
Herr Pastor, » sagie (Christian, « Arseiiik. »
« Ach Unsinn, wer weifj, vveh:hen Marsch es geslern zuriickgelegt hal. In
Helldorf machen wir Hall, wir wollen fri'ilisliieken. »
Sie friihsti'icklen in der Sehenke, und es wurde ihuen woiiler. Der
Schenkwirt betrachtete den neuen Gaul von allen Seiteii und fand des I.obes
kein Eude. Aber er maelite darauf aul'merksam, dafi der Rap[)e ermiuh^t sei
und dai'ï ani llimmel schwarze Regenwolken stiinden, dafi es deshalb besser
sei, auszuspamien " und sich's bei ihm lHM|uem zu machen, bis der drohende
1. der Paslôrwoilte heimfaliren. — 2. s'étonna. — 3. fiudet seineu Weg. — 4. ralentit.
— 5. d'une façon inquiétante. — 6. dételer.
[99] DEUTSCHER TEIL 19
Regen vorûber sei. Aber davon wollte der Pastor nichts hôren. Man komme
schon noch vor dem Regen heim, sagte er. Aber kaum war nian ans dem
Dorfe, als es anfing wie mit Mulden ' zu giePsen. Christian zog die Miltze ins
Gesicht und dôste ^ vor sich hin. Plôlzlicb sohrak er empor.
« Herr Pastor, » rief er entsetzt und deutete mit der Peitsche auf den
Gaul.
« Was hast du denn schon wieder? » wollte der Pastor rufen, aber das
Wort blieb ihm im Halse stecken — vom Riicken des Rappen rannen schwarze
Bachlein herab.
« Deshalb kannte er den Weg so genau, » sagte Chi-istian, « 's ist unser
Hans. »
« Fahr' zu^, » bet'ahl der Pastor, « da(^ uns niemand sieht. Vielleicht hôrt
es auf zu regnen. »
Aber das geschah nicht, im strômenden Regen fuhr man weiter und
imnier mehr schwand das Rappensehwarz, und immer mehr kam das
Schimnielgran zum Vorschein. Kurz vor Holzdorf mufite Chi'istian die Decke
auf'sPferd legen und seinemHerrn versprechen, reinen Mnnd zuhalten'". Im
Trab fuhr man durchs Tor, das Lina, bebend vor Neiigierde, geôffnet batte.
Trotz des Regens stand die ganze Familie im Hofe. Wilhelm rifi die Decke
herab. « Unser Hans, » jubelte Uuth, « aber er ist ein Zébra geworden, »
schrie Wilhelm. Der Vater gab ihm eine schallende Ohrfeige und rief:
« Ungezogener " Jimge, bekiimmere dich nicht um Sachen, die dich nichts
ange h en. »
Die Frau Pastor sah ihren Mann durchdringend an : « Du hast wohl vom
Pferdekauf genug, Manne? » sagte sie.
« Ja, nieine Liebe, » antwortete er, « so lange Hans noch ein Bein vor's
andere setzen kann, bleibt er bel uns. »
(Schlu^.)
Rudolf BRAU.NE-RofiLA.
7. il $eaux. — 8. regardait d'un nir hébété. — 9. fahre schnell. — 10. zu srhwei-
gen. — 11. malappris.
^amcl tttt^ 9tai>ciôt}v.
5(n bcm Éeîannten Sitietfprud} ' : ,,@^er ge^t ein iîamel burc^ ein 9tQbe(5f)r , aie
ein Sfleic^er in baè .<ptnunelreid^" ï)at)en bie SBièelbenter - t)ielfad^ if)ren ©(^arffinn
Derfu(ï)t unb oft luunbcrlicï^eâ ^eng ^ bariikr gefc^rict)en. 9tber bie einfact^e nnb
jehenfaUè ric^tige ©eutung be§ in ber Ûberfe^ung nur fcEieinbar ^ gefct^nuicftoien
33ilbe'j ift gefunben luorben.
Sie 5tufmerfiamfett mug ni(^t auf bas SSort .fîamet, baè mancf^e mit „©c^iptau"
iiberfetîen motlten, fonbern auf baè ,,9kbeIo£)r" gerit^tet Uierben. ^n ©^rien unb
^^alaftina mu im gan^cn Orient finb namlic^ ^ bie §auëtitren noc^ tieute gerabe fo
niebrig mie bor 2 000Sa^ren, unb cS finb in bie grbfeeren §au§tore fleine Ôffnungeu
gemacfjt, biu'd) bie ber 9Jtenfd) nur gebiicft, ein unbelabeneâ ^amel ader nur fef)r
fermer, auf ben .Snieen rutfcf^enb, gelangen fann» Siefe 3;iircï)en ^ aîier I)eifeen toie
Dor 2 000 3af)i"en bci bcn 3traf)ern noi^ fjeutigen ïageê ,,9labe[o()r". ®amit crïlart
\xé) baë t)on 3efuô gcbrau(ï)te ©leid^uiê auf bie einfac^fte 2Seife : g^er geï)t ein ^amel
burc^ ein Blabelof^r, aie ein aJtenfd^ in ba§ §immelreid^, ber fonft n\i)tè ijat aie feinen
3îei(^tum.
1. sentence biblique. — 2. beuten = erïlarcn. — 3. lounberïid^e gac^en.
apparence. — 5. in bet %at. — 6. ïletne ïiiten.
20 DEUTSCHER TEIL [4001
Umwandlung der Elemente.
Die neuesten Forschungen Sir "William Ramsays.
II
Der Sloff, von dem Ramsay hei seinen Experimonten ausgeht, ist das
Radium, jene geheimiiisvolle Materie, die seit iiirer Entdeciiung schon so
manche Wandliing» in dor physikalisohen Erkenntnis hervorgerufen liât. Im
.lahro 1903 macht Ramsay zusammen mit Soddy die Entdeckung, daB die
Emanation des Radiums sich selbst unter sorgraltigstem Ausschlufj ^ jedes
Einflusses nnd jeder Zuluhr von auf^en her in Hélium verwandelt. Oie Ema-
natioti des Radiums ist etwas durchaus ^ Kôrperliches, nfimlich ein Gas. Ein
recht seltsames allerdings ^, da es, praktisch betrachtet, ans dem Nichts
entsteht. Denn die Abgabe'' dièses Emanationsgases ist erst in etwa dreitau-
send Jaliren imstande, den Radiiimkôrper, von dem es ausgeht, auf die
Hiilfte seines Gewichtes zu reduzieren. Aber dièse Emanation ist trotzdem
ein Gas mit allen Eigenschaften eines solchen. Und es weist im Speklrum,
wie jeder andere Kôrper, seine ganz bestimmten und nur ihm eigentûm-
lichen Linien auf. Und docli verwandelt es sich in Hélium, das ein anderes
Gas mit anderen Eigenschaflen und anderen Spekttallinien ist.
Aber hiermit nicht genug, gibt Ramsay in dem bereits erwahnten Briefe
bckannt, daÊ er in der letzten Zeit eine noch viel grôÊere, von ihm selbst
nieht geahnte Wandelbarkeit der Radiumemanalion entdeckt hahe. Unter
gewuliii lichen Umstanden vollzielit sich die Verwandlung der Emanation in
Ilelium, und die Hohlraume zwischen dem Gestein in den Joachimstaler
Gruben, in das die Pecherze, die Multersubstanz des Radiums, gebettet sind,
erscheinen angefiillt mit groiien Quantitaten dièses Gases. Wenn aber die
Emanation des Radiums in Beriihrung mit Wasser kommt oder in diesem
aufgelôsf wird, so entsteht nicht Hélium, sondern das Elément Néon, das
gleichfalls von Ramsay vor einigen Jahren in der Luft entdeckt worden ist.
Bringt nian die Emanation nicht mit dem Wasser, sondern mit einer
gesaltiglen Losung^ von Ku])rervitriol in Verbindung, so entsteht aus ihr
wieder ein anderes Elément, namlich das Argon.
Der Nachweis ' der Anwesenlieit dieser Elemente ist bisher nur durch die
Spektralanalyse môglich gewesen. Man vermochle im Spektrum die jedem
dieser Elemente charakteristischen Linien zu erkennen, sie sind jedoch
immer nur in so iiberaus winzigen Mengeii vorhanden, da6 ihre direkte
kôrperliche vVahrnehmung ^ oder L'ntersuchung unmoglich ist.
Ramsay gibt an, dièse Beobaclitungen viermal unter Anvvendiing der aller-
grofjten Vorsiclitsmaliregeln ^ gemacht zu haben. Sie sind jedoch bisher
nicht nachgepriift worden, und es ist gut, an ihre Ergebnisse vorlàutig noch
keine weileren Folgerungen'" zii kniipfen, da es ja in der menschlichen Natur
begriindet liegt, dafj Erlînder und Entdccker ihre Geisteskinder manchmal
ein wenigzu hoch einschiitzen.
Dafî aber hier von Ramsay ein Gebiet beschritten ist, das der Wissenschaft
neue Bahnen weist, ist sicher. Und er ist durchaus nicht der einzige, der
diesen Acker pfliigt. Wie wir aus bester Quelle erfahren, ist man in eineni
Laboratorium der Reriiner Universitat mit aussichtsreichen " Versuchen
heschafligl, das erst vor kurzeni von Frau Curie in Pai-is enldeckle Elément
Puloiiiiim in Blei iiberzulTiliren.
Freilicli nuifj man hierbei nicht an eine fabriksmaliige Herstellung denken,
t. transformation. — 2. erchmon. — 3. absolument. — 4. snyis doute. — 5. perte
— 6. solution. — 7. preuvr. — 8. comttatntinn. — 9. mesures de précaution. — 10.
conclusions. — 11. ayant des chances de succès.
[101]
DEUTSCHER TEIL
21
denn ans zwanzig Tonnen Pecherzen gewinnt man gerade zwei Milligramm
Polonium. Das Grundmaterial ist also etwas teuer. Aber tûr die Wissenschat't
darf man auch ans diesen Vcrsuchcn die s(?hônsten ResxiUate erholïen.
(Schlu^.)
^ A. F.
Ôalerreirhische Hcndeli^'^cl) >il-Zeitung.
SïdfrfjtcD &cr «ioflct.
5lbe, tf)r g^etfeitï)allcn ',
S)u fd)ôneê SÏCaïbieLner !
S)ie falben - 3?lattcr talleii,
Sffiir jietjen fort non t)ier.
2.
Sraumt fort im ftiticn ©ritnbe !
S)ie a^erg' fteljn aiif ber 2Bacî)t,
S)ie ©tente luadjcn bie 9îinibe
2)ie lange 2Cinternacl)t.
3.
Unb ob fie att' oerglommen^
S)ie !ïaler nnb bie §ot)n,
Cenj * mu^ boc^ Inieberfommen
Unb alIeS auferftef)n !
Qofepl^ ^yreifjerr non ©ic^euborîf
(1188=18o7).
1. voûtes rocheuses. — 2. folt) = faï)ï, farèlos. — 3. ueïjc^tcunben. — 4. (ïriif)ling.
Sïuf tttcincm (ârai»e,..
5luf meinem ©rabe, ha biiftet ber Q^lieber,
S)a fingt beS 3lbenb§ bie 9îacf)tigaU.
'^aè ftingt fo fiiB in bie ©rnft t)ernieber
aSie ber Siebften 2aà)en nnb 21rdnenfaII.
3tm ®rab ift'â gut... 2)od) oft jnm i'er^agen !
S'ie Srbe ift fo unniberfd)on,
^d) t)ore beâ 3l(ienbâ bie 3tarf}tigaU fc^dtijen
Unb morf)te lior Sct}nfnd)t nnb îlranen oerget)n !
Subteig :3ûîoBott3§fi (©eïjoren 18(i8).
(Pleine fiieber.)
S)ic ^amVîfrfJtffrtOtt vov l)unl>crt 3<tï)rctt.
3lni 7. £fto6er tJer^eidjnete bie (Sefd)ic^te ber 5)Qm|)ffd)iffaf)rt eine mii^tigc
§unbertia^r= (grinnernnc3. 5tm 7. Cftober 1807 mac^te ber ameriîanifd)e.
5}ted)anifer 9toîiert Q^ulton mit bem t)on i()m erèanten ®ainpfer „&ïermont"
feine erfte erfotgreid)e Sn[)rt onf bem ç^nbfon t)on 9îen3=a)orf t)i§ Stïbanl) bei
einer DJÎarimalgefdjtDinbigîeit non fitnf eng(ifd)en DJleifen. ^ntton t'ann aller=
bingê nid)t aie ©rfinber luefcnttidjer Sicile beS ©cf)iffeê getten : er benn^te
eine S)ampfmafd)ine non ÏBatt, bie Oînberraber non DJhUer, bie Jîomtnnation
ber 9îaber mit ber 'JJtafc^ine tuefentlic^ nac^ ©l)mington§ ^been, unb bie
22
DEUTSCHER TEIL
1021
©cï)iff§form ftii^te fic^ borjugêmeife aiif 93eaitfol)§ 3}erfurf)e. ®ie Sôfung
be§ ']?robIemë fefbft ïng frf)on nid lueitcr jurûcî, unb ben 9hi()m, baS
©amptfi^iff erfiinben ,yt f)a(ien, îiet]ineu nerfd)iebene 9îationen in 5ïn|pnic^.
2)ie ©cî(î)id)te ber 3)anipf)d)iffe beginiit tQtfûc^lic^ IGSl mit bem 23ud)e be§
jpateren 9Jkrburc3cr $rofe|)orâ ber
5|}l)l)fiî ^Qpin, uiorin er ben i^^)l•fd)ïag
maàp, bie 2)ampfîraft ^nr ©d)iffSbe=
inegnng ju Oerlucnbcn. Unb gcrabe t)or
5Uiei3fal)rl)nnberten, am :27. SepteniBer
1T07, fu[)r ^apin anf ber ^ulba non
âaffcl nad) DJtiinben mit einem non i[)m
angecjebcncn 9înbcurabfd)iff, bei bem
er ben 2Bafîerbampî ûϧ beiuegenbe
-fi'raft benu^tc. ©cin uieiterer ^Berfuc^,
iind) Êngïnnb ju fal)ren, tourbe geuialt=
fam ncrbinbcvt, nnb bie ©coiffer non
ntiinben 5erftortcn ibm fein f[eine§
5al)r,^eng. ©uft nad] ^ynltono gïitd(id)em
a3erfuc^ tam bie S^ampffdjiffabrt eigent=
lic^ in (Sang. <2d}on nad) fiinf ^aljren
fubren mebr nï'3 fiinfjig in 3îorbame=
rita erbante 3)ampfer anf ben bortigcn
Jlïiffcn, unb 1823 inaren eô fdjon iiber
brei()uubert»
{yulton ertjiett 1811 nom ,fêongref] ben ?luftrag jum 93au eincS mit S)ampf
betriebenen kvieg§fd)if[e§, ftarb aber fd)on nor beffcn 2)oncnbung 1815 im
5ÏIter non filnfjig 3a')î-"cn. (Snglifc^c 2)ampfî'd)iî7e gab e§ feit 1812, unb fie
tnareu and) bie crften, indexe fed)G ^al)re fpdtcr bentfdje ("vUiffe, 9\beiu unb
(SIbe, befn{}ren.
Dînbcvt Juftoit.
ïkom Ztcvbctt.
Sin jeber flïau'6t, ha% aile [terten miifiett,
S)Dd[) teincï fdjeint Oom eigcnen Sob ju toiffcn.
Êâ gibt taum ein oÏÏtagïi(^c§3)orîommniê', i'iberbaSfonielcfalfcbe, iibcranS
qualenbe ilkuftellungen- I)errfc^en, inie iiber baê, baê eineu jeben non nnâ
eiumal betrifft : ber ïlbergang non biefcm ©ein in§ 9cid)tfcin. iBor aUem
fd)on, treil luir feiner nienmïS belnuf',t ^ inerben. ®enn mag jener Ûbergang
and) biêtncilen 5ïugenbïidc besi 23elnnf]tfein§ eruieden, af)nîid) tnie fotd)e beim
@iufd)Iafen bem (Sd)Iafe norauêgebcn — nom <Sd)(afe mie nom Xobe felbft
ineifî ber 9Jlenfd) nid)ta. Sagt bod) fd)on (îpifur : „28cnn unr finb, ift ber 21ob
nid)t, menu aber ber S^ob ift, finb inir nid)t mebr ; bafjer betrifft jener ineber
bie !Cebcnbcn nod^ bie ©eftorbenen, benu fiir jene ift er nic^t, unb bie auberen
finb nid^t mel^r fiir it)n 1"
^n ber iibertnicgenb gro^en 9Jleï)r5at)I ber ^-citte ift ber ïlbergang in§
9tid)tfein in ber 2:at nad)ineiSbar^ fd)mer5Ïo§, unb felbft bort, ino ba§
93eiuuf3tfein noc^ met^r ober ineniger tiar erfd)eint, lebt ber Stcrbenbe anffat=
tenberweife ' mel)r in ber 5l^ergangenï)eit aïê in ber ©egemnart; bie p:^ilofo=
d. événement. — 2. idées. — 3. conscients. — 4. comme il est prouvé. — 5. chose sur-
prenante.
1031 DEUTSCHER TEIL 23
pljij'c^e 9îuï)e aber, bie man bem ©terbenbeu 5ufd)reibt\ ift in ber 9îe(jet
gerabe ein 3etd)enjbereit§ etngetvetener ©efiipofttîîeit.
©efd)id)te unb ilberlieferung^ ï)erid)ten Don fo t)iclen 9Jhnfd)en, bie bcn
3eitpunît if)re3 S^obeS uoranSgea^nt ^ f)at)en, ba^ e§ nermeffen ^ Inarc, biefe
2ll)nun(3en fnmt nnb fonberâ"' anjujuieifeln". ^n ber 5lût ftirbtfo mand)er, ber
fic^ ans ben ©ternen ober ûuâ einem fonfttgen ,3iif'^inwtî"t)a"9e bie ÎOnnber
beS ïobeS DoranSfagen lie^, jn ber beredjneten ©tunbe — iufolge ber bon ha
ab '^ an feinem WaxU jeijrenben fyurc^t. „5lu§ g^nrd^t jn fterben, ift er gar
geftorben." S)aS 9Jîard)en, luonad) oor bem îobc eineg fiirftlid)en §aiipte§ bie
„tr)ei|3e 5^ran" erfd)einc, toftetc in ber %ai einem prcuf^iîd)en ^bnige bti'j Ceben.
soie 5i3aron ^^ollnil^ anSfiibrlid) er^atjlt, unirbe bie (etîte ©emaf)ïin ^^riebrid)^ I.,
Snife, in fo t}ol)em ©rabe uon reïigibfen ÎSaljnibecn''' oerfolgt, bafi fie fd)liefe=
ïtc^ in ftrengcm (Selualjrfdni '" geljaïten toerben mu^te.(SineS?lbenb§ gelang eS
if)r, bie 2Bad)famfeit i()rer Umgebnng jn tcinfc^en ; mit fUegenben §aûven,
nnr I)atb betïeibet, bringt fie auf eiuer gel)eimen (Safcrie biâ in ba§ 3inimer
beS tranïen ^'oiiigâ, ber in einem Seffcl eingefdjlummert Uiar. 2)nrd) bie
tûnten 3.^orluiirfe*^ mitbcncn fieil)n iiberljdnft, luirb ev aufgefd)redt nnb glanbt
bie „tî)ei^e Q^rau" ^u feîjen, bie i^m hen nat)en îob uerfiinbige"'. 2Benige
2Bod)en baranf ftarb er. èê gtbt nnn ani^ in ber ©tnnbe be§ S^obeê fo maniée
®inge nnb ®elooî)n()eiten, bie, foïange ber ©teubenbe 23ett)n^tfein f)at, if)m
bie leljten 51ngenblirfe fef)r erfd)li)eren miigen. ©eïbft bie ^ird)e trdgt ôfterê
bajn bei, fie bem Sinjclncn mogtid)ft bitter ,yi mad)cn. Safet boi^ mand^er
Drben feine fterbenben 9Jcitglicber nid)t einmat auf itjrem einfai^en 8ager
auêatmen, fonbern l)ebt fie auf ein 3lfd)enbett ober eiue Ijûrenc SJÎatra^e, bie
man auf bem Soben anSgebreitet bat. Dtatiirïic^ fe^en imr coran§, ha'^ ber
©terbenbe bei aûen foïd)en ©jenen ©d)merj empfinbet nnb fidj beffcn aud)
belDufit ift. Siefe^j Smpfinben tritt jeboi^ ftetS met)r unb metir juriid, je ndfier
ber le^te 5lugenblid Ijeranfommt. ^n bem ïllafee, une ba§ ©efiif)l im ganjen
DrganiSmuâ nadildf^t'', luanbelt e§ fid) in 93eiyuf5t(ofig!eit. ïiJenn gnoier, alS
er bie leljten ©i^Idge feineS ^^^nïfeS ju jatjlen unb baâ ()eranna()enbe (Sube jn
beftimmen Ucrfui^te, Don einem 3^obe§tampfe'' ettuat) gefii()It I)atte, unirbe il)m
jene 3rtl)liiiUÏ gctoife fo loenig mbglic^ gciucfen fein, U)ie bem beriibmten
SBilliam ^^.^enn ber 5ln'3rnf : „5(d), menu id) bod) nnr eine x^ehn tjatten nnb
anfjeidjuen îbnnte, loie (eid)t eS fic^ ftirbt !" ©etbft Sonia XIV. rief in feiner
le^ten ©tunbe an§ : „^à) ^dtte unrtiid) geba(^t, ha'^ bag ©terben mel)r auf
fic^ ptte '' !"
93ei loeitauS ben meiften ^tanït)eiten tritt ber 3:ob bnrd) Ît3dt)mung-" ber
^perjtdtigfeit ein, bie Sinatmung uon (gauerftoff-' loirb gebcmmt ; burd)
Uber()anbnel)men ber ^'of)ïenfdure-- Unrb ber Jurante belonfetïos, ber ^nïS luirb
immer (augfamer, mit einem 93laï fjbrt er ganj auf — ein tiefer ^Item^ng,
unb aUeê ift uoriiber.
(Srfotgt ber %oh luiber ®rU)arten nic^t, fo ift ber ©enefenbe " meift erftannt
ûber bie S^rauer nnb bie SSeftiirjung'-'- in ben ïllienen ber ©einigen, luie biefe
fi(^ luunbern, jn ïjbreu, bafî er trolj anfd)cinenben îobeâfampfeê entluebcr
nidjt'j gefiiljlt ober gar in einem eigeutiimlicf} angeneljmen 3uftni^be fid) befnn^^
ben [jat. ^n ber 2:at, nur bie Q^nrc^t Uor bem ©terben ift quatuott, nidjt baS
©terbeu felbft. S)er ^li^, bie feinblid)e Jîugel, baè ©d)tDert beâ ©cf)arfrid)ter§'",
6. attribue. — 7. tradition. — 8. pressenti. — 9. téméraire. — 10. en bloc. — 11.
mettre en doute. — 12. à partir de ce moment. — 13. folie religieuse. — 14. sur-
veillance. — 15. reproches. — 16. annonce. — 17. diminue. — 18. agoniiî. — 19. était
plus pénible. — 20. paralysie. — 21. oxygène. — 22. prédominance do l'anliydride carbo-
nique. — 23. convalescent. — 24. consternation. — 25. bourreau.
24 DECTSCHER TEIL [104]
einc ®i-pIo[ion toten ben 1)10111(1)611 in ber 9îeget fo rafti), bû^ berOhij^^ ber
getroffenen 9teriienbal)neu nirf)t mel)r 3eit I)at, aie ©cfimerj in§ ©e{)irn ^u
(3e(aiu]eii unb 511m 33eluu^tfein ,511 îommen. 3iïl)Uoâ fiiib jitbeiii bie (Srjdljhmgeii
Don foïcf)eii, bic ûuS ftarter 93ctaubung-' inê Seben juriicïgerufeu imirbeii.
@rt)angte, (Si-fticfte, Srtrunfene, non ©jplofionen ©etroffene, 00m ©d)IacÊ)t|cIb
ober auè ben <i^Iauen loilber %kïe ©erettete pflegen Oorjugôlueife bel ber
9îiiiîfef)r jum Seben jn leiben, ioat)rcnb baS ©d)eiben oom S)afein in ber ^îe^eï
\vk 9Jîontûit3ne fatjt, „ein ^^^fab inè ®U)[ium jn jein fc^eint". 5luâ ben drjtlirfjen
Serid)ten iiber bic entfe^lidje ^ûtaftropbe ûuf ber 3n[el ilîartinique in ben
erften ÎJkitagcn beê ^û()reê 190:2 cjeljt ïjeroor, ha'^ bie Q^oUgen jener 3}ulîan=
anôbriidje uirc3enbê einen fcï)loeren SlobeStampf ^erbeijufiifjren fd)ienen,
©oïd)e unb d^nlidie ,^ataftropî)eu ]cf)einen il)re Dpfer mit \o [c^nellem £obe ju
iiberrafd)en, bafj fie oï)ne jeben ©djiner^ jncgrunbe gel)en. "^JJrofeffor .'^^eine au5
3iirid), ber bci einer Sergbcfteitjniuî abftiir^te, erjdblt in vibcreinftiiumiuug
mit anberen, bic baâielbe ©d)id]at ereiltc : «ÎS^cvj ici) in ben Scfuiiben, bie ber
^•aii bnnerte, tii()lte, loiirbe in ber grjciljlnng iuol)I eine ©tnnbe beanjprndjen ;
allé ©ebanfeu unb 33tlber [tellten fic^ mit nuîjerorbentlidier ©djdrfe unb
,^Iarl)cit bar ; là) fa^ aïïe SBegebenbeiten meiucS CebenS in nn^dbtigen 93ilbern
fid) oor mir abrollen." 5lnbere oerloren in di)ntid)en Jdllen oollfommen ba^j
S3cn)uî]tfein, unb loieber aubère gaben an, im Stur,^ bie ©tbj^e an ben oor[tet)=
cnbeu (}el]en gejdblt, babei aber tcincii ©djiner^, foubcru nur cin angcnel)m
îlingcnbeS ©erdnfd) unb ein uubcfd)reibIid)eS 5ÏBol)Ibel)ageu empfunben 5U
Ijaben. ^)l()nïid)e0 ocrjic^eru biejenigcn, bic man nod) jcitig non bem 5lobe beâ
èrftideuê burd) ^ot)Ieubunft rettcte.
Sïnbcrcrfcitê nimiut ber mibc %oh nid)t fetteii bic dïtaèU ber ©cuciung oor.
SBdbrcnb er fid) fdjon biefer ober jener licite beâ ^brpery bcnidd)tigt bt^t,
ïaffeu a (le ©d)mer5cn nad), bem ©turm foïgt 9iul)e, ba§ giebcr get)t jnriirf,
unb ber Unîunbigc ïjdlt bie ©efaf)r fiir iibcrftaiiben -^ ^ei ©ntjitnbung ber
Êingeiucibe, beê©el)irnS, ber Sungen, be3S)arlnfanaB-^ befonberS iuil>erbin=
bung mit nerobfem ^icber, toinmt icnc 5ldufdjung red)t lyàiifia, oor. Ter beiterc
Sinn, bie 9hi()e unb (Sd)mcr;)lofigfcit, loeld}c nicbt feltcii and) mit oollcin neu
erUiad)ten 33eumf^tfcin fid) ocreineu, gebeu inbeffcii balb in gefiibdofcn Scblaf
ilber, ber ben Ic^tcn ijlngcnbliden oorangcl)t. Unb uun gar ber natiirlid)e
S^ob, ber burc^ baê Sllter, bie @ut^anafie^° Derurfad)te, ift ein aUind()Iid)eë
2}erfd)Unnbcn unb 5l>erfd)locben au§ bem S)afein. jîberbaupt mag ber
5lugciiblid beS ©terbenô bem beâ (Snoad)eno aiiâ einem fdjiucrcn 'îraume
dbniid) fciii," meint ©djopcnbaucr, ini ©inné beê Suripibcê: „2Ber loeif?
benu, ob baS Scben nidjt cin ©terben ift, unb 3terben ^cbeir?"
Uiifcrc 23etrad)tung loollen loir mit einer anbercii ^4-^aratteIe ûu§ bem
flaffifif)cn 2Beftcii unb aiiQ bem feruften Dften fdjticf^cu ; benu \mè
îbiiiite uuy in jener atteo beberrfdjenben unb alleô becubigenben ijrage eine
grbfjcrc 93efriebigung gciudl)rcn, alQ bic SSeifeu aller 3eitcn uiib iJ}oltcr ciiici''
5U uiiffen in i)citerer ilbereiiiftimmung ? ©0 fagt (iicero : „5rob unb bantbar
uiollen loir bem 2^obc entgegcngcl)en unb bartn eine (Srbffnuiig nnfcrcj
A^erteré, ''2 eine Sbfung luiferer 33aiibe erîennen, loeil loir entioebcr baburd) in
bic eigeutlic^e emigc i^cimat eingeben ober bod) mit ber fômpfinbung jnglcicf)
aller Biberiodrtigfciten lebig loerbcn." Unb i^'oufutfe^^ : „33ctrûbebid) iiid}t ju
febr iiber hm Zoh bciiicû iBrubcriS. %ob unb \icben finb iii ber 3Jcad)t bed
ipimmelè, bem fid) ber ÎOeife unteriocrfcn mu^." (a3crtiner 2:ageblatt.)
26. excitatiou. — 27. élourdissement. — 28. surmoaté. — 29. tube iutesliual. — 30. « la
douce mort ». — 31. d'accord. — 32. prison. — 33. Confucius.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 4. 20 Novembre 1907. 8« Année.
DEUTSCHER ÏEIL
2iermtfd)tc 9i(id)ri(i)tcn.
5tc Stftttc Jcr ^crmnnMôid)lad)t.
®ie ©ele^rten fiub \\^ troij aller eifrtgeit î)tacf)forî(î)Utujen unb et^nograpf)iicï)en
^unbe rtod^ tmmer nicfit ftar bariiber, au lueli^er ©telle beë îeutobitrger SBalbeê bie
breitagige ©cï)Iacf)t beê Gf)enicferfur[ten 3(rmiuiuQ gegeu ben romijcfieit Stattfjalter
a^aruô [tattfaub. 9htu finb uor furjem diiBerft luic^tige ^uwht in Dlieberenfe in aSeft=
falen gemacïit lootbcn. ÏÏJlan fanb bort ein auègebe^nteé ^eid^enfelb, baâ nad^ \)m bei
ben ©feletten befinblitf^en ^i^^ûten ' unb Sc^mucîfacfien ju urteifen aué bem erften
3a^r()unbert nad^ G^rifti ©eburt ftammt unb an f}unbert 9Jlenïd^en= unb ^|?ferbeffelette
èirgt. 3ni naf)en 2BaIbe fanb tnan fevner ein umfangreii^eê Siômerlager, )o ba& bie
2tnnaf)me, ha^^ ()ier in biefer ©egenb nocf) toeitere luertDoUe 3^unbe gemat^t toerben
unb 3U einer befinitiueu (yefti'tellung beô îeutoburger Sd^latfitfelbeâ iiif)ren ïonnten,
eine grofee 2ûaf)rf(î)einlic^îeit fiir fic^ f)at.
(îiocii^tè Stijncu-.
2)ie ©oetfjefcf^en 2U)nentafeIn l^at ^ax\ ^iefer in 3^ranffurt a. 9)L uon ©runb au§
neu aufgefteUt. ®r fiat bie t)on i^m ermittelten ai^t S^afeln im „2)eutïd^en §erolb"
DeriJffentlic^t. ^ui^ift^n unb §onbuierfer fpielen unter ben Sjorfal^ren be§ 2)icf)terâ
eine befonbere DioUe. Sein 5}ater luar, toie man lueiB, ®r. jur.-^ unb fai)er(icf)er 9iat,
ber (SrnBDater luar ©djneiber, bann ©aft^alter in Slrtern (16S7 6i§ 1730), ber
Urgro^Dater §ufid)mieb bafelbft (1632 biê 1694). 93ater, ©ro^ooter unb Urgrofeoater
ber SOlutter be§ Sid^terâ, geborene Sejtor, toaren fâmttic^ ^uriften. S)er tiltefte,
aïtenmafeig ^ nad^toeiâbare Slfjn ©Detf)eê in g^ranïfurt a. 9Jh ift ber ©iirtner ^o^anneê
3Dktj> ber iibrigenô ^lueimal, einmal in ge^nter, einmafin neunter ©enerationerjcf^eint;
feine S^ocfiter ©tijabet^ toar in erfter ®^e (1548) mit bem ^u^rmann §ans 33ei}er,
in giueiter 6f)e (1553) mit bem ans ©(^jetl ^erge^ogenen iJu^rmann .Çanê '^'à.6) ({Jec^
unb 3Jec^) uermcif)!!. 3(u§ einer intereffanten 2afel ift erfid^tlid^ % ho.^ ©oet^e unb
Sotte (Œ()arfotte Suff) bur($ i^ren beiberfcitigen 3(f)nen, ben JBvirgermeifter 9let^
.îîornmaun in ^irc^^ain mm 1500) eineè ©tammeê finb — eine Satfa(^e, bie ttio^ï
bem grofeen S)i(^ter mie ber uon i^m uerfjerrlic^ten Sotte uollig unbeïannt
gebtieben ift.
1. ornements. — 2. aïeux. — 3. S)ottor juriê, docteur en droit. — 4. par des documents.
- 5. ïann man fe^en.
[19]
26 DEUTSGHER TEIL [1461
Wie unsere deutsche Muttersprache ward.
]n Uingst vergangenen Zeiten — es sind sieher viel mehr Jahre vor Christi
Geburt, als wir jetzt nach Chrisli Gcbiirt rechneti — wohnte anf deii weiten
Sleppen Rufilands, da, wo Asien und lùiiopa aneinandergrenzen, ein jugend-
starkes Volk von hohem Kôrperbaii, mit blauen Augen und blondem Haar.
Unbekannt ist, welchen Nanien sich dies Volk beilegte ' iind ob es ïiberhaiipt
eine gemeinsame Stammesbenennung besafi ; wir heifien seine Angehôrigen
mil einem wohlklingenden Namen die Arier, auch die Indo-Europ'der oder
Indo-Germanen in gelehrLen Kreisen. vSie waren langst nicht mehr, was wir
als ein « wildes » Volk zu bezeichnen pflegen ; sie leblen zwar in der
Haiiptsache von Viehzncht und Jagd, aber auch der Ackerbau war ihnen
nicht mehr unbekannt und sie verstanden es, einfache Hiitten zu bauen und
sich zu kk'iden. Eine gewifie staatliche Gliederung- mit Stammesoberhaup-
tern an der Spiize und die Verehrung eines hoheren Wesens, des « Licht-
gotles )', sowie ein reichgestalletes Familienleben lassen anf eine Jahrhnn-
derte, ja vielleicht Jahrtausende alte Kultur schliefien. Vor alleni aber die
Sprache dièses Urvolks : reich an Wort- und Beugungsformen 3, melodisch
durch vielfach wochselnde Betonung und mit Antangen eines gegliederten
Satzbaues mufî sie eine lange, lange Vergangenheit hinter sich haben. Wir
kennen sie nur am Ende einer vieltausendjabrigen EntwickeUing und nur
durch RùckschUisse ans den von ihr entsprungenen Sprachen.
Es kam eine Zeil, wo iiberquellende Kraft, vielleicht auch zu dichte Besie-
delung '* ihres Gebietes, oder der Andrang fremder Vôlker die Arier aus
ihren urspriinglichen Sitzen hinaus in den fernen Osten und NVesten und
nach Sïideuropa trieb. Sie hielten ihren Einzug nicht mehr in jungfrauliches,
unbewohnles Land, sondern wohin sie kamen, fanden sie bereits eine
serihal'te Bevôlkerung, eine bodenstandigc îvullur vor. Am weitesteu nach
Osten drangen die Inder vor, nahe ihnen liefien sich die Perser nieder ; auf
dem kleinasialischen Hochland fanden die Armenier eine neue Heimat;
Sûdeuropa wurde von den Griechen und /<<2/ic?iç?-n,\Vesteuropa von den Kelten
eingenommcn. Der urspriinglichen Heimat zuniichst blieben die Slaven und
Litauer, ebenso die Germanen, unsere Urahnen.
[Fortselzung foigt )
D'' Eeist (Berlin).
1. gib. — 2. Vcrfassung, organisation. — 3. (lejcions. — 4. BcTulkeruug.
„C*îufc îBttd)cr."
S)ie ,,5^61^11 SBIcitter fiiv Siteratur uttb ^uuft" l^aben on eine W\^t bcittfc^er
©c^riftftellei- bie SBitte geriditet, it)ve 3eï)n fiiebliiigôMid^er 3\i nennen. 5lu5 ben 5lntH)ovten
ï)ebeii inir bie foïcjenben ^eruor :
SJlarie y. Sbner^gfiïienbad) fd^reibt: ©iiiige altère 93iid)cr, bie micf) iciner^eit liefon=
beré gcfeifflt i](iim\ : l'^c^ glaiitic bcr o^U'em Uiiteriicfjineii ^iicjruubc liegenben 2tbliiJ)t
3U entfprecf}eu, ineutt id) 8e(l)ftoerftaubIiif)eô mcf)t erinafjne.) Sebevei^t §iif)iic^eit won
§einrid) Seibeï. ©ainte Stocke uou §eiiuicfj '^IJaatjoui. ©aDonavoIa uub ©ebidjte Don
Senou. ®er ïe^te Dlitter bon îlnaftafiuê ©riïn. §ammer unb StinBofe Don ©picï^ogen.
®ic le^te Dlerfenburgeriu non Souife u. lîïûiiçoiê- ©ebic^te non 58ctll; ^aoli, — ®ie
[147J DEUTSCHKR TEIL 27
^maffabder. 3unf(fien .•ôtmmet unb ®rbe bon Otto Subtoig. — 3t^a§Dent§ in 3tom.
®er ,$ÎDinc3 Ooii èion non 9îolieït .s^^amerliiig.— ©ebtcC}te uonSingtj.— §einri(^ Stiiïingê
Sugenb.
^^eter Slltenberg antiuortet : '^à) neiine 3f)nen foïgenbe 23iicf)ev, bie icf) fiir befonberê
toertuott ^atte: ©trinbfcerg, Sïn offener ©ee unb Sjc^anbala. Sonaê Sie, ®er
©rofebater. 23irger=ï)lôrner, Sïïïerfiod^ft ^naijier. 5maeterlincï, Le trésor des humbles
unb Sagesse et Destinée. aSDamoCev, Satarina non 3trmagnaï unb iî)re fceiben
Sie(if)û(icr. içeUn ^eOer, Optimiëmuê. ,$înut Ç->niniun, a>ictoria, 931icf)aeïiê, ®o§
©cflicffaï ber jungen Xliia ^cingeï.
®er nor fur^em nerftorbene 3. S. ®ainb fc^reibt : 3(^ t'i" unrîïicf) in a3eï(cgen()eit.
3Uif§ ©eratetuof)! biene : ®ie 35i6el unb immer inieber fie. Ser ^paraiDaf. (aSoIfriim !)
©iml-ili^iffimuê (©rimmelêf)aufen). 8utf]er, g^Iugïc^riften (vide SSikl). goteribge.
Subuiig, 3ixnfd)en Rimmel unb ©rbe. .^eUer. 9Jlel)er, ®er §eitige. 5tn,5engvn6er,
(Sternfteinî)Df. 23aruc^ Spinoja. — (Se mag boê eine lintnberticf)C âufammenftetlung
fetn, toie fie einem jîranïen, ber menig mefjr lieft, eBen beifomtnt.....
^eter Dîofegger : 3n neuefter 3eit laê ic^ foïgenbe atte unb neue JBiic^er mit befon^
berem 93ergniigen : ©tifter, ©tubien. ^anbel^ïilaajetti, ^ater ^Dleinrabê benïtoiirbigeê
3aï)r unb 3effe unb SlJlaria. ©mil ©ttl, ®ie Sente nom blaneu ^uducïêîiauê. Ottoïar
^ernftocf, ^m 3iinnggarttein. Sîobert §amerling, ^ônig non ©ion unb §omunïeI.
©ottfrieb Retiex, Ceute non ©eïbun)ta. .«permann ©c^etl, (if)riftuë. Glambertain, ®ie
©runbïageu be§ neunje^nten 3af)rï)unbertê.
5ïrtur ©dfinilter : ®ê ift mit gor nid^t eingefaûen, 3f)ren erften SSrief su mifenerftel)en ;
ic^ fjûtte nur eben ïeine Befonbere Dfîeigung, 3f)^'e [yrage ju Beanttnorteu — {)auptfci(^Iicf)
auë 9tntipatt)ie gegeu biefe gttn,5e ©itte ber 9vunbfragen (uici§ ©ie getoife nerfteï)en
toerben). ÎJteiue 5tntipatl)ie ift niiîjt gefcf}lnunben ~ afcer ba ©ie fcf)(ieBticf) einigen
2Bert barauf 3U legen fc^eincn unb icf) fd)ou im ©cï)rei5en bin, fe^e id) inaf)((DQ ein
paaxy nein : geuau 3e!^n 25iicE)er ijtx, benen icf) gute ©tunben nerbanft l^abe : ©oett)e=
3elter, SSrieftned^fel. SSurdf^arbt, 3eitalter ^onftontinê. 23ranbeê, ©f)afefpcnre.
©tnrm= unb S)rangperiDbe in ber ^urf(^nerfc[)en ''Jlatiouatliteratur. ©ibbon, ©ef($ic^te
be3 rbmifcf)en 2BeItreic^eê (58onb iiber 3uliau). a3al3ac, Lettres à l'étrangère,
ïïhirbot, OJlemoiren. ^eber Beliebige 23anb DJiaupaffant, Stonetleu. greljtag, 23ilber
(SSanb iiber ben ©reifeigjafirigen .Krieg). ïïtcrefctifouiêïi: Soiftoi unb ©oftofetriôfi.
ÎDÎaler §an§ %i)oma : g^otgenbe jefjn 581icî}er finb Sietiïingôtnid^er non mir gefilieben
— natiirlict) ïommen nocf) inetc^e boju, mo mir bie SOBci^I rei^t filmer inirb : ®aê 9teue
Seftament. ®aô Sud^ §ioti. S)aô erfte S8u(^ ÎDÎofeê. S)ie ^falmen ®anibê. ®a§
§of)eïieb ©atomonê. §omer, Dbtjffee. ®er ©imptijiffimuê nou ©rimmelèt^aufen.
®oetf)e, §ermann unb 3)orotf)ea. Siebel, ©c^a^fdftteiu. Uli ber Rmd)t non 3. ©otttjeïf.
— ®ie Sluêlnat)!, bie bie 93eantinorter ber Sîunbfrage unter ben S5iicE)ern ber
aOBeîtliteratur getroffen ^oben, ift oft fiir i^re eigene ïiinftlerift^e 9lrtrei^t (^araïteriftifcfi.
SSefonberô fpric^t auâ ber 3iif'in^"ienfte(tung ber Siebtingëiiierfe §anô 2f)oma§ fein
©inn fiir fcf)(ict)te unb im beften ©inné einfdttige ituuft.
Unverôffentlichte ' Bismarck-Worte.
Fiirsten tun gnt, bel Resuchen fremder Herrscher deren Persônlichkeiten
vorher zum Gegenstande eines recht genaiien Studiums zu niachen undje
nach dcssen Ausfall - Erotînungen derselben ïiber die Zukunft mit ebenso
1. non publiés, inédits.
-^ DEUTSCHER TEIL [148J
yorsichtiger als frenndschaftlicher Zonickhaltiiniï ^ aufziinehmen und sich
ïiberhaiipt aile Meserve aufzuerlegen.
Anfangs der siebziger Jahre habe ich die franzôsische Sprache im Verkehr'*
mit der franzosischen und belgischen Gesandtschaft in Berlin durch die
deutsche Sprache ersetzen lassen. Die letztere habe ich auch beziiglich der
Zirkulare und allgemeinen Mitteilungen an das diplomatische Korps obli-
galorisch gemacht. Endlich habe ich aiich dem Mifistand ^ dafi diirch das
Heichskanzieramt unter Delbriick ' vielfach, und zwar in franzosischer
Sprache mit fremden Diplomaten verkchrt wurde, ein Ende gemacht.
In der Frage der bayerischen Postwertzeichen^ das heifitder von gewisscr
Seite behaupleten Unbequemlichkeiten, die dem Briefpostverkehr ans den
besonderen Postwertzeichen Rayerns erwachscn, bat sich das Reich jeder
Einwirkting» zu enthalten. Eine Initiative darf in dieser Frageniir von Bayern
aiisgehen, dem seine vertragsniafiigens Restimmungen znr Seite stehen, und
wo die betreffenden Ùbelstànde stjirker zur Erscheinung kommen als im
Gebiete der Reichspost.
»
Auswanderer sindvom nationalen Standpunkt als Lberlaufer 'o anzusehen.
Die Betatigung" eines Interesses fiir dieselben seitens des Staates istunprak-
tisch, und die dahin gerichteten Bestrebimgen sind nur durch das geringe
Mafj von nationalem Selbstgefiihl der Deiitschen zu erklaren.
Ich halte mich niclit lïir infaillibel iind gebe zu, dali ich manchen Fehler
gemacht habe; mein Gliick war aber, dalj die Gegner stets noch grôfiere
begingen.
»
Die nachstehenden Ausspriiche stammen aus der Zeit nach Bismarcks
Enllassung :
Es ist vielleicht zu beklagen, dafi ich nach meiner Entlassung nicht in
Rerlin geblieben bin. VVie vieles hàtle ich dort erleben, und wie viele
Anregungen '- batte ich dort erfahren kônnen. Gern vviire ich ab und zu ins
Theater gegangen ; die Leute hatlen sich an den Rismarck im Riihestande
gewohnt, wahrend, wenn ich jetzl aus meiner hiesigen Verbannung mich
einmal in Rerlin sehen lielJe, die Leute mich fast erdriicken wûrden.
3 réserve. — 4. relations. — 5. schlechlca Zuslaod, oftMS. — 6. Preul'^ischer Slaats-
niinister. — 7, valeurs postales. — S. immixtion. —9. garanties par les tniiti's. — 10.
transfuges. — 11. mantfestalion. — 12. stimulants.
Stt ï>ct ®taM.
ÎBo fid) brei ©ajfen freit^en, triimm luib enge,
Srci SH^ tunllen pïotilid) fid) eiitûCûiMt
Unb fc^Iiiujcn fid), getjemmt aiif if)rcii ÎOeûen,
3u einem ^naiil unb larmenben ©étrange.
[149] DEUTSCHER TEIL 29
Siie SBac^parab' mit gretten 2;vommetf(^ïagen,
@iu 23raut3ug îommt mit ®eit3en unb ©étrange,
(£iii Seirf)cn5iit] ïtagt feine ©rabgefange ;
®a§ aUeS ftodt, îein ©lieb met)i- fann fic^ regen.
3.
2}erftummt finb ©eiger, ^înff' inib 3:rommeïf(ï)ïdger ;
®er bicfe §aiiptmanit îlud)t, ha]] niemanb lueid)e,
©eïa(ï)ter fd^allet au§ bem greubettjug.
4.
2)01^ oben, auf ben ©d)uïtern fd^lcûrjer Sli-dger,
©tarrt in ber 9Jlitte fait itnb ftill bie Seidje
9Jlit bïinben 5litgen in ben ÏBolîenflug.
©ottfrieb lîeïïer.
2)er Sîrittc uttb ï>cr SRcidje*.
I
93oi- atten 3eiten, ûl§ ber liebe ©ott nod) fetBer auf @rben imter ben
ïflenfdjen inanbelte, trng e§ fid) ^n, ba^ er eineê ?tbenb§ miibe tt)ar unb if)n
bie îiac^t iiberfiet, et)e er ^n einer .sperberge fommen ïoiinte. !:)hin ftanben auf
bem 3Beg Dur il)m ^Uiei §dufer einanber gcgeniiber, baâ eine gro^ unb fd)on,
haè aubère ftein unb armïic^ an^ufetjen, uub ge{)ôrte ba^^ grofje einem reid)eu,
ba§ îleine einem armen 93tanne. ®a bad)te unfer ^errgott : bem Sieic^en
toerbe id) nid)t befdjtuertid) fatten, bei if)m toili ic^ anîtopfen. S)er Dîeid^e, at§
er an feine 2:iir ttopfen l^brte, mad)te baS genfter auf uub fragte ben |^remb=
tiug, Uiaê er fu(^c. ®er §err antmortete : „3d) bitte uur um ein 9îad)tlager,"
®er 9îeid)e gudte ben ^ÏBaubergmanu nom §aupt biê ^u ben ^^ix^en au, unb
toeit ber liebe ©ott fd)ïid)te ^leiber trng unb uid)t auSfat) ime einer, ber t)ieï
®etb iu ber 3:afd)e l)at, fi^iittelte er mit bem ^opf uub fprad) : „Sc^ îann ®uc^
nid)t aufnef)men, meine Jiammeru ïiegen Doit Jîuauter uub ©amen, uub foUte
id) eineu jebeu bet}erbergen, ber an meiue S^i'ire flopft, fo fbunte \â) feïber ben
Setteiftab in bie §aub nef)men. ©ud)t anberSlno ein Unterîommen !" fd)(ug
bamit fein geufter jn uub liefe ben ïieben ®ott ftef)eu. 5Ufo feï)rte ifim ber
tiebe ©ott beu 9îiirfeu, ging l)iuiiber 5U bem îleiueu S^auâ uub îlopfte an.
^aum ^atte er augetlopft, fo tlîufte ber Slrme fd)OU fein 2:iird)eu auf uub
bat ben SîBauberSmann einjutreten uub bei if]m bie 9îad)t liber 5U bleibeu.
„(Bè ift fd)ou finfter," fagte er, „uub l)eute îôunt Sf)r bod)nid)t loeiter ïommeu".
2)a§ gefiet bem lieben ©ott, unb er trat 5U i()m ein ; bie g-ran beê 3lrmeu
reid)te it}m bie .spaub, t)ieB i§u wiUfommeu uub fagte, er mod)te fid)'g beguem
mac^en unb borîieb ne^men, fie ^dtten nic^t tiiel, aber tt)a§ eS tudre, gdben fie
Don ^erjeu gerne. ®ann fe^te fie ^artoffeln an§ g^euer, uub tt)a()reub fie
îod)ten, meOte fie it)re 3iege", bamit fie ein bi^d)eu mUâ) baju fatten. Unb
aie ber Xifd) gebedt luar, fe|tc fief) ber ïiebe ©ott ju it)uen unb a^ mit, uub
fc^medte if)m bie fc^Iec^te Hoft gut, bcun eè wareu oergniigtc ©efid)ter babei.
SBie fie gegeffeu î)atten unb ©djïafeuâjeit \mv, rief bie ^rau tjeimlic^ i^reu
gjlann uub fprad) : „§or', ïieber 5Jianu, tuir looUeu uug ^eute ^Jiac^t eine ©treu
* ©te'^e bie bter onbern 2eile.
30 DEUTSCHERTEIL [150J
morfien, bomit ber aume ÎOanberer fief) in unfer ^ettïegen unb ausru^en îann;
eu ift ben ganjen 2^ag i'tber gegan(3en, ha whb einer mûbe". — 93on ^erjen
tjern," antoortete er, „id) untl'ê it)m anbieten," cjing ,yi bem ïteDeu ©ott luib
bat i()n, tDenn'ê i()m rcd)t Uiitre, m'ùàjk er firf) in i()r SBett legen imb fetne
©lieber orbentlid) ouêru^en. ®er liebe ©ott inollte ben beiben 3Uten tbr
Sager nii^t neî)men, aber fie ïie^en nic^t naâ), biS er e§ enblid) tat unb ficÇ) in
iï)r 23ett legte ; fid) felbft aber mat^ten fie eine ©treu anf bie ®rbe. 5lm anbern
Worgen ftanben fie nor î^ng ft^on auf unb ïoc^ten bem ©aft ein 3^rii()ftild, fo
gnt fie c§ batten. ÎIU nun bie ©onne burc^ô Q^enflerlein |d)icn unb ber (iebe
©ott aufgeftanben Waï, a^ er loieber mit ibnen nnb tPoUte bann feineâ îl^egeS
5iet)en. 5ll§ er in ber Slitre ftanb, fprai^ er : «ÎOeil if]r fo mitlcibig unb fromm
feib, fo toiinfc^t end) breiertei, ha§ tuiïl id) nid) erfiitleu". ®a fagte ber 5ïrme :
„2Bû§ foll ic^ mir fonft iminfdien al§ bie eloige ©eligïeit unb ba^ inir jtnci, fo
lange loir ïeben, gefunb finb unb unfer uotbiirftigeê taglid)cê 23rot bflbcn ;
fitrS britte Ineif] id) mir nid)t'3 ju uniufd)cn". 2)er liebe ©ott fprad) : „ï0illft bu
bir nid)t ein neucS §auê fiir baS alte loitnfd)en ?" S)a fagte ber 50îann : „'^a,
luenn ha§ ginge, toar'ê mir luo^ï ïieb". îilîun erfiittte ber §err i^re 2Blinf(^e
unb nerlo^anbelte i^r nlte§ §au§ in ein fd)bne§ neneê, unb aU ba§ gef(^eï)en
toar, oerlie^ er fie unb 50g lueiter.
Tï
2l(§ eS ootler Sag Uiar, ber 9îeid)e aufftanb nnb fid) in§ jjcnftcr legtc, fat)
er gegenltber ein fd)oneê neueS §auê ba, loo fonft eine alte §iittc gcftanben
ï)atte. Sa madjte er Slngen, rief feine {Ç^rau unb fprad) : „3^rau, fie^ einmaî,
n)ie ift hûè jugegangen ? ©eftern abcnb^! ftanb bort eine cîenbe .§iitte, unb nun
ift'ê ein f(^bnc§ nencâ -s^^aug ; lanf bod) cinmal fjiniiber nnb bore, mie ba§
gcîommcn ift". ®ie ^ran ging bi» mib fragtc ben -^Irmcn awè ; ber crjciljlte
it)r : „@eftern abenbS tam ein ÎOanberer, ber fud)te 3tad)tbcrbcrge, nnb bcute
morgenê beim 3lbfd)ieb l)at er une brei 2Siinfd)e getodt)rt : bie eioige ©cligtcit,
C5cfunbt)eit in biefem Seben unb haè notbiirftige tdglii^e Srot ba.yi unb ftatt
unfcrer i^iitte ein fdjôneS ncueê §auâ". 9Uê bie xS'^au bc§ 9îeid)cn ba^j gebort
()atte, lief fie fort nnb er.ylblte ibrcm 9}taune, toie ed geïommen mar. Xcx
Wumn fprad) : „3d) mod)te mid) jerreif^cn nnb ,^crfd)lagcn ; l)att' id) baâ nur
geiDu^t I 2)er f^-rembe ift and) bei mir geioefen, id) f)abe ibn aber abgetuiefcn".
— „S3eei(e bid)," fprad^ bie 3"^"au, „uub fet^e bid) anf bein ^^ferb, ber ^Jtann ift
nod) nid)t lueit ; bu mu^t il)n einI)oIen unb bir anè) brei 2Biiufd)c gcmdbren
ïaffcn".
®a fe^te fid) ber 9îeid)c auf nnb boite ben lieben ©ott ein, rcbete fein unb
tiebïid) jn il)m unb fprad), er mbd)t'g nid)t iibeïnet)meu, ba^ er nid)t gleic^
ludre ciugelaffeu luorben, er batte ben 8d)Iitffel jnu .s^auêtiire gcfud)t, bermeit
locire er lueggegangeii ; luenn er be§ 20egcë juriidtdme, miijste er bei if)m
einîebren. „^a," fpract) ber ïiebe ©ott, «menu ic^ einmaï ,yiriidfommc, )oitt id)
eci tun". 2)a fragte ber r)i'eid)e, ob er uic^t and) brei ÏOiinfdie tun biirfe mie
fein '1iad)bar. ,,'^a/' fagte ber liebe ©ott, ba§ bitrfte er mobt, eê mdre aber
ni(^t gut fur i[)n, er fotlte fid) tieber nid)t'j untnfd)en. S)er 9teid)e aber meinte,
er troâte fid) fd)on etmaâ ©uteâ au'jfuc^en, menu e§ nur gemi^ erfiiUt miirbe.
©prad) ber ïiebe ©ott : „5Heit nur b^m, unb brei 3Biinfd)e, bie bu tuft, bie
folien erfilUt merben".
(g^ortfe^ung foigt.)
93rilbcr ©rimm.
(fîinbcrnmb C^auêmatâien.)
[151]
DEUTSCHER TEIL
31
Der Lowe und der Hase.
Ein Lôwe wûrdijJle ^ einen drolligens Hasen seiner nàheren Bekannt-
schaft. « Aber ist es denn wahr », fragte ihn einst der Hase, « dafi euch
Lôwen ein elender krâhender Hahii so leicht verjagen kann? » —
« Allerdiiigs ist es wahr n, antwortete der Lôwe ; « und es ist eine allge-
meine Anmerkung, daft wir groften Tiere durchgàngig' eine gewisse
kleine Schwachheit an uns haben. So wirst du zum Exempel von dera
Elefanten gehôrt haben, dafi ihm das Grunzeri eines Schweines Schauder*
und Entsetzen erweckt ». — « Wahrhaftig? » unterbrach ihn der Hase.
« Ja, nun begreil" ich auch, warum wir Hasen uns so entsetzlich vor den
Hunden Ciirciiten «.
Gotthold Ephraim Lessing.
1. honorait. — 2. amusant. — 3. iiberhaupt. — 4. frisson et épouvante.
^ritts @oï&fif({) unï) ^rt•^ ^ifdjcrma&djcit.
1
Ê'j Wùï eiiimal ein juiujev lîônioSfol)ii, bcr tuar ]d)on uoii ©eftaït iinb uon
•s^crjeit çjut. ^ei^ci'mann fceiite fid), luenn ev i()n nur fat), ja, eê l)atte fogar
eine ftot.^e ÏGafferfee, bie in bem na^en
SKalbe itji- 2Befen trieb ', it)n fe^r lieti
gelîjonnen nnb iwinfcf)te nict)tS fe{)nïi=
cî)el•^ aïs ba| n fie jnr gran nat)me.
£)ft, tucnn beu junge èoni90fo()n burc^
hen 5orft anf bie ^agb ritt, trat fie i^m
in ben îôeg nnb rebcte i^n frennblit^
an. (îr nber tonnte ein fiir atlemaï bie
(yeen nic^t leiben ; bal)cr bre()te er
benn and) biefei" jebeêmal ben Oîiicfen,
fobûtb er fie nur Don fern eiblicfte.
9Bei( bie gee nnn im guten bie
3nneigung '^ be§5|}rin3en nidit gelninnen
fonnte, fo uerfuc^te fie, mit it)ven ÎOuii=
berfilnflen^ ifin bajn jn jlningen. 3US
er cinmat anf ber ^ctgb fid) Derirrt t^atte,
lodte fie \î)n in i^r gauî'ei'tat % nnb
IDie er bort in einem einfanien ©ee
babete nnb Beim ^aben nnter baSÏOaffer
taud^te, nerlnanbeïte fie iï)n in einen ©oIbfif(^ nnb 50g if)n t)inaï) in i()r Dîeicf).
Sie frf)iintr, il)ni nid)t el)er bie menfd)Iid)e ©cftatt luieberjngeben, aU M§ er
itir uerfprdrfie, ha}] er fid) mit iï)r t)ermal)(en6 luoUe. — llbrigenô l)atte fie il)m
hen 3tufent[)alt ha nnten fo angenet)m une moglid) gemac^t. Œr fanb nnter
bem SKnffer atle§, tuie er e§ nnr jn §anfe get)a£)t ï)atte, ©(^lof] nnb ©arten
nnb §ofgefinbe\ aud) inaren bie ©olbfdinppen, mit bencn er befteibet luar, fo
3toliert[!Reiutiï (lsuo=l852;
1. vivait. — 2. [iliis ardemment. — 3.
eachaulée. — 6. marier. — 7. courliîHus.
l'all'cction.
louis magiques. — 5. vallée
32 DEUTSGHER TEIL [152]
ïôfttic^er ïid, \vu îeiu aiiber ïlletall nod^ (Sbelftein auf Srben ; beim bie }}tt
ï)atte barin il]re luertooflften 3niiî'ermtttel Derlîienbet.
S)oii) lt)a§ ï)alf ba§ bem Denuanbeïteii ^rinjen ? ®r l^ar bocî) immer nui- ein
3^if(^, urtb e()e cr bie 3awî'e^t" 5111-' 3ï-'ûu genommen ficitte, tttare er lietter
geftorben.
5hm fam eâ t)i§tDeiïen uor, bafe bie Q^ee in fcrnen Sdnbern ratdf)ttge 3lngele=
9enf)eiteii jit bcforgen [)atte unb bann auf etnige 3!Jlonate il)r Oîeirf) nerlnjjen
mu^te.
^n fotd^er 3ett toar e§, tt)o einmal an einem ()ellen 9Jlaientage ^^rinj
©oïbfifc^ an bie Dfierflai^e be§ ©ee§ ï)erau|fam, um fic^ in ber jrf)ônen
{^i1lt)Iingèfonne feinen i^'ummer ein luenig .^u oerfcfitDimmen. 2Bie er fo ftill
unb traurig burcfiê ÏBajjer 50g, fal] er im ©iï)i(f am Ufer einen grauen
âranic^ [tel)en, ber i[)u mit fd)arfcn Sliden lieobadjtete.
©ollte ber mid) frejfen uioUen ? haà)k ber 3^ifd) unb tuollte juerft fd)nell
uutertaud)en, um i()m ju entflielien. S)ann jprad) er : „9îein ! ber îommt mir
gerabe red)t ; benn id) t)in meineS SebenSiiberbritffig* !" ©0 fd)Uiamm er benn
fd)nc(I p bem -ftuanid) t)in unb fprad) ,yi il)m: „®u I g^rif^ mid) !" — 2)cr aber
mad}te ein gan^ îrcunblid)e5 ©efidjt unb fprad) : «-^'rinj ©olbfifc^, nur DJhit !
nur 5Jlut! ^d) bin bein (yreunb unb nid)t bein i^einb. dloà) gibt e§ ein 9Jlittel,
ba§ bid) t)on beiner gifd)gefta(t ertbfen îann, aber e§ ift jdjmerjtjaft I" —
„9flenne eê mir," rief ber O^ift^ mit §aft ; benn beim ndî)eren Slnbïid beê
^rauid)ê fa^te er S^ertrauen 5U i()m, Ser ^ranic^ erluiberte : „ ÎJÎerî' auf :
®§ Wiïb ctne ïommen,
®ie toiïb btr gefallen,
S)u tuirft t'^t gut feiu,
©te ixiiïb bid^ ftetnigen',
2lï§ 5tic^ Wiïft bu fterïien,
2lt§ $ïinj iDÏïft bu leben.
%oi) bie ©olb'^aut, bie ®olbT)aut, bie nimm mit bit,
@aï madjtigc Sautei-ïraft ftetf.t in i()ï.
2Benn bie ^ee fie befommt, bu luirft c§ betlagen,
^ilbe uun! 3tbe! Md)x hax} id) nid)t fagen !"
'ùlaà) biejen SCSorten ert)ob fid) ber iîrantd) unb Derfd)luanb in bcn Ciiften.
— ^rinj ©olbfifrf) mertte uun uiof)I, baf; ein guter ©ctft in bem $Bogel ftede ;
neue l^^ebcuôluft erfiiKte it)n. S)ie buutlcn 2Borte beô ^ranid}S gaben il)m
t)ielen ©toff jum 3{ad)ben£en, unb mit ©ei}nfud)t fat) er bem 5lage entgegejt,
ber il)m Scfreiung bringen foUte.
(gjortfeljung folgt.) m • -^
9îetmd.
(®cj($id^ten unb fiiebet fiiv bie ^ugenb.)
8. las. —9. lapider.
Sm ©rtftftattè.
3e. — ,,-^ofte bod) bcn Bein, 5Ufreb, 3)u bift l?enner ! ©er 2»irt fagt, ber
2Bein ïnit eine Sïume ' gteid) ber Dîofe."
5tlfreb (nad)bcm er gefoftet). — „.§m, ba mu^ ber SSirt hu SGÛafferrofe
gemeint ^aben !"
1 . bouquet.
Les Cinq Langues
N° 5.
5 Décembre 1907.
8' Année.
DEUTSCHER TEIL
2)cr ^rtifcr in 6nfllrttt&
23eim ©taatêbanfett, boô am 12. ^îouember in 2Binbfor [tnttfanb, îmic^te ^ônicj
ebiiarb folgenbeu Srinffprui^ auê :
Set Segvûjjung (Suver "DJlajeftdt beâ ^aifevê unb ^^xn gjlajeftnt bct flaijcrin an ben
©ditoB ÎÛinbîov, fiauptrcfibenj bcr ilbntge Hou (Jiujrnnb.
britifi^en ©eftabeit jet e§ mir tiergonttt, int 5îameit ber fionigin unb fiir mtc^ jcttft beï
gtoBen greube unb ©enugtuuns 5>tu§bïucf au gefien, bte eê un§ gewaïjtt, Eure 93la)eftaten
^iet in bieiem alten, Ijiftotiji^en ©^loffe ju ïjertitten. ©ett lonaev 3eit ^«"e ^^ m^'
btefen SBejud) ju empfansen, unb no^ îutjlid) ï.efiiï(^tete ic^, bafe et infoïge ber Un|)aptci)=
leit nic^t ftattfinben îonnte. ©UidUc^erlueijc fe^en gure 93îûjeftoten ielit Beibe fo boUer
@efunbT)eit auê, baft tc^ nur I)ofîen tann, (Suter ïïtajeftûten îlufent^att in gngïanb^ t«enn
m^ nur ïuïs, toctbe guten Majeftaten recï)t luoï)ïtun. 3^ M"^^ ^^ lunli^iebenen a3efud)e
toeli^e guet 9)îajeflat ^ier bon frii^efter ^ugenb an abgeftattet ^akn, ni(^t «crgeiien. g§ tft
* ©ie'^c ben engïijc^en Seit.
[25]
3i DECTî^CHEK TEIL [194
mit ic^mevjïic§, baran ju benfen, bafe Suret ÎRajeftat ïetjter 58efuc^ \o traurig wax. ^^:
Werbe nicmat», \o lange ià) lebe, bie ©iite unb S^mîJaf^ie bergcffen, tocli^e mit bon Suret
îlîajeftdt erwtefen lourben in ber 3^1^, aï§ bie gro^e Dere^rte ^onigin berf(ï)teb.
Sure 5[lloj;eftdten niiigen berfic^ert bleifien, ba% Surer ÏHajeftaten Sejudje in biefem
Canbe ftet§ eine ouftit^tige greube finb foh)o!^t fiir bie ^onigin, fiir niic^ aU auà) fiir metn
gan3e§ S5ott. ^c^ ()ege nidjt nur innige ^offnungen fiir ba§ ©ebei'^en unb ba§ ©liidÉ be§
grofeen 3ïeic^eê, iiber haè Suer 53tajeftat ï)errîd)en, fonbern ouc^ fiir bie Srtjaltung be§
{Jriebenë. ^d) trinfe nun auf bie ©efunbfjeit ©einer 5Jîajeftût be§ ^aiferè unb ^'ijxex
5Jlajeftat ber t<iîaijeriu unb bitte babet noc^ einmal ber aufricï)tigen fjreube ?(u§brucE geben
JU biirfen, \vdà)e un§ baburc^ getoci^rt mxb, bûfe toir Sure DJlajeftoten aU unjere @afte
empfangen.
Ser ^aifer autteortete mit folgenbem 2vtuïfpru(^ :
S)ie iiberau§ freunblid)en 2Borte be§ 2BiIIïommen§, bie Sure 53îûjcftat an bie Jîaiferin
unb m'id) gevic^tet ï)aben, {)aben miii) tief gerii^rt. Sanbe enger 3}erliianbtid)aft unb Dieïe
teure Srinnerungen an Dergangene 2age tierbinben midj mit Surer SJiaicftdt 5'*'"iïic«
Unter biefen Srinnerungen fteljt an erfter ©telle bie ©eftalt nieiner oerefirteu ©roèmutter,
ber gtofjen iîônigin, bercn S3ilb meinenx Çerjen unau§ltjfd)licf) eingegraben ift, loaîirenb bie
Srinnerung an nteine geliebte 3)tutter ntid) jurucftierfetît in bie frii'^eften Sage einer
gliidlii^en fiinbf)eit, bie id) unter bem S;ai^ unb unterljalb ber SBiiUe bicfeë gro^en, aïten
aBinbforfc^Ioffey 3ugebra(i)t î)ahe. 2)ie aîeije alter Srinnerungen finb jetjt eïtpljt bur{^ bcn
tcarmen Smpfang, ben Sure ïïflaieftdt une au§ ?t-nlafe unfereè gegenlcdvtigen S3efuc^e§
bereitete. S§ ift au(^ niein ernftefter SBunfc^, bafe bie enge SSerloanbtfcïjaft, tuelc^e jrtifc^en
unfeven beiben ^yamilien befte'^t, fid) loiberipiegeln miige in ben S^ejieJjungen unferer
beiben Siinbet unb fo ben g^icben ber STelt befraftigen ntoge, beffen ■îtufrcd)terï)àUung
cbenfo fe'^r Surer SKajeftdt beftdnbigeâ S5eftreben mie eâ mcin eigene§ ift. 3" biefem ©inné
banîc \à) Suret 'JJÎajeftdt fetir warm im 'Jianien ber ^aiferin unb fiir ntic^ fclbft fiir bie
fteunblidjen unb ïjulbDoden SBorte, mit beneii Sie un§ bcgriifjt baben, unb in biefem ©inné
et^ebe id) mein ©taè auf ha^ 3Bo^l Surer ^JJiajeftdt ber Afiinigin unb auf ha^ 2Bot)Iergeï|en
allet ÎJtitglieber beâ tlinigtit^cn 4''">'ie-i, niemer nafjen unb gcliebtcu i>crttianbten.
Wie unsere deutsche Muttersprache ward.
i[
Als das friihcsle Licht dcr Vorgescliichte iiber iXordeuropa zii djimmern
beginni, sitzen die (lermanen in eincm Gebiet, das sich iiin die Ostsee als
Miltelpuiikt erslreckl : osllich tief nacii Uiifilaiid hinein, siidlich bis zum
deiitschen MiHelgebirge und westlich bis zur Elbe. Im Norden haben sie
Danemark und dassiidliohe Schweden und Norwe^^en inné'. Das warum .'iOO v.
Chr. ungefahr, als Griechenland ani Vorabend der Perserkriege stand und
Rom eben Freistaat geworden war. In den folgenden Jahrhunderten dringen
die fesllJlndischen (iermanen naeh Weslen ziim Rliein und nach Siiden zur
Donan vor, iiberall die benachbarten KelL«n teils ziiiiicklreibend, tells sich
mit ihnen vermischend. Die beiden genannten Fliis.se haben sie um Christi
Gebiirt erreicht. Dann folgten vier Jahrhundcrle des Stillstands, wàhrend
deren die Germanenscharen ihre Kraft an dem festen rôniischen Grenzwall
und den kriegsgeiiblen Legionen meist umsonst erprobten. Als aber Italien
und Rom ?elbst von den germanischen Goten, die von Osten her in Italien
eindrangen, angegriffen wurde, da hielten die von Legionen entblôÊten
Grenzwalle die Flut der Germanenvôlker nicht mehrauf. Die Bewegung, die
wir Volkerwanderung- nennen, fiihrt die deutschen Stamme nach West-und
Sûdeuropa, nach Rritannien und Afrika. Keiner von diesen vorgeschobenen
1. beselzeû sie. — 2. migration des peuples.
[195] DEUTSCHER TF.IL 35
Posten des Germanentuiiis hat das 8. Jahrhundert ùberlebt mit Ausnahme des
angelsachsisniien Reiches in Enijland und des westfrankischen Reiches in
Krankreich, die immer neuen Ziiflnfî ans dem nahen Heimatland erhieiten.
Aber auch Iiier ist die gennanische Sprache entweder ausgestorben oder mil
fremden Best indteilen vermischt worden ; nur in Mitteleuropa und im Nor-
den hat sie ihrestetige Weiterentwickelunggehabt imdihre Reinheit bewahrt.
Die festlandischen germanischen Oialekte nennen wir "deutsche" Mund-
arten. Der Name "deutsch" selbst kommt erstkurz vor dem Jahre 1000 n. Chr.
Geburt aiif ; er ist abgeleitet von einem alten ^yort deot, das "Volk" bedeu-
tet : "deutsch" bedeutel also nrspriinglich "Volkssprache'" im Gegensatz zur
dem Latein der Geistlichen. In derweitesten Auffassung, das Niederlàndische
und Vlamische einbegriffen, umfafste dis Dew^■c/^e, als es im 9. Jahrhundert
zuerst als Schriftsprache auftrat, ein Gebiet, dessen Grenzen durch die heu-
tigen Orte Diinkirchen, Rriissel, Malmedy, Metz, vveiter durch die Vogesen,
den Jura und die Alpen, ferner im Osten durch die Elbe, Saale, den Bôhmer-
wald iirui die Ems bezeichnet werden.
{Fortsetzunq folgi.)
Dr Feist (Berlin).
@in dlet^cngcnic.
^n einem ^olleg ' iiber ^fi)($ologie an ber Uninerfitdt ^Berlin ftellte ^^rofeffor DJtar
3)effotr feinen §ôrern ein Sîecfiengenie bor, beffen pfjanomenale ^unft einen Seioeiê
bûfûr ïiefern foUte, ju toeld^en iifierrafc^enben Seiftungen^ ha^ menfc^Ud^e ©ef)irn
burd^ fl)ftematiirf)e Sc^utung unb burd^ fteifeige Û6ung gebrat^t toerben ïann. §err
S)r. Diiicfte ift fein Sied^enfiinftïer im getDo()nli(ï)en ©inné, er betreibt feine ^unft nid^t
ûlê SSroterioerb % fonbern fteût fie nur ï)ier unb ba ju erperimenteûeu ^wecfen in ben
S)ienft ber 2ôiffenfcf;aft. Seine groBartige ^yertigfeit im .fiopfreiîinen oerbantt er neben
feiner uatiirlicben S^eranlagung eincr Sc^ulung nacf) iinifenf(f}QftIic^en ©runbi'a^en.
®ie einbrucfeiioUfte Seiftung, bie §err 5)r. 9iiidfle bot, toor bû§ Sluêiuenbiglernen
•einer ^unbertftetligen "^aiii. SBenig me^r aB fiinf 5!Jlinuten betroc^tete er bie ^ai)i,
bann oermoc^te er fie au§ bem ©ebac^tniê faft feI)IerIoê Dorinartê unb riidiuartè
aufjufûgen. Gebf)afteé îrampein ^ ber Stubenten Iof)nte bem ptjdnomenateu 9îecf)ner
fiir biefeê .ffunftftiicf, unb auc^ ^rofeffor 3)effoir meinte, boB biee feiiies 233iffenê bûê
grôBte t)on einem ^opfred^ner bie^er erreic^te 9îefu(tat fei.
S)ie Srrec^nung bon Quabraten» fûnffteûiger '^a\)it\\ — mobei fc^on Dîefultate non
me'^reren taufenb DJlitlionen f)erauêïommen — macfit Sr. 9ïiicf(e gar ïeine Sd^unerig=
ïeiten. ®r er^ebt aud) in fur^er ^i\i eine oierfteUige 3û^I in tit ,3ef)nte ^^^Jotenj ober
jiefit bie fec^onnbbreiBigfle SSurjel auô einem Se3imarbruc^ «. .spierbei bebient er fic^
ûuc| im J?opfe natiuiic^ ber Iogaritt)mif(ï)en 9îe(f)nung. ®in treffenber SBemeiê fiir
bie Dortrefftidje êcfiulung biefeë ©ebatïitniffeê iDurbe baburdf) erbroc^t, bafe
®r. Dliicfle am ©cEiIub beê -ÎÎDEegê bie f)unbertftetlige 3ûl}ï nod^ einmaï rildEmartê
J^er^ufagcn nniBte, obmo.^I er injuiifc^en Derft^iebene fc^mierige ^tnfeêjinêrcd^nungen "
auêgefiit)rt ()atte.
S)ie Strt, Xo'it biefer ,$îopfrec^ner feincm (Se^irn bie ^aiikn einpriigt, ift jumeift
eine bifuette. Saê ^eifet, er ftettt fotxio^I bie burc^ haè Sef)en aU a\\6) Vit if)m burc^
baê £)^r mitgeteitten 3tt^Ien al§ Silber bor fein geiftigeê 5Iuge. iïltit biefem lieft er
■in bem imaginaren 3iTîfrnï'it'5 iiiis ^in lueniger gefc^ulter 9îed^ner auf einer Safel.
1. cours. — 2. résultats. — 3. gagne-paiu. — 4. trépignement da pieds. — 5. carré. —
•6. fraction décimale. — 7. calculs d'intérêts composés.
36
DEUTSCHKR TKII.
[196J
Set ben Dperattonen mit Dtelftetligen 3ûf)ÏÊtt loft er biefe in ein3elne ï(eitie
3ifferngnippen aiif, ^linfdjen benen er fic^ auf imiemoted)nif(î)em SBege eineit geunffen
3ufamnien!^aiig ï)erfteEt.
3l5er cuid), mcnn man biefeê 9îe3ept tueife, Bleibt bie 9tecf)eufimft Sr. 9îiicï[e§ beïpun^
benmgôunirbig. Seine (^ertigfeit muBte umfDmef)r ben 9ieib^ bev ,3uf)iirenben Stubenten
erregen, aie fid^ bfter ()erauêftelfte, bofe ®r. 9îiicîle iin ^opf beffer rec^nen fann aU bie
jîommilitonen ^ auf bem ^^apier. 2Ûenn ®r. &îiufle ein anberes Dîeinltat erredfinete, aie
ber bie SlufgaBe ftetlenbe ©tubent auf fein ^papier gefd^rieben t)ûtte, bann ergab fief)
meiftenê, ba^ ber ©tubent fid^ bei feiner Dorber ,5U .*paufe in grofeter Dîube fertiggefteEten
9tecbenarbeit geirrt, unb ba^ ber ^opfred^ner red^t botte.
8. envie. — 9. ©tubentcn.
«d)tt)rtrîU»rtlï»taGC.
Hnermefene ïBoïfenmaffen,
2Bod)enIang Dom ©iib getrieben,
9îegenftrcinie, nicbt ,5n fnffen ',
2ÛeIc[)ciu ÏÛeltmeer fie entftieben.
2;riib' inê g^enfter fd)Ieid^t ber SJlorgen,
5ln ben 2Sdnben friedf)t bie Spinne,
SBebt anô 5JUBmiit nnb ans Sorgen
©raueê Dîelj um .S>er3 unb Sinne.
1. berfteïien.
Siber broufecn in ben Scf)liinben
Sammein fief) bie Ç)inimeIéUiogen,
9îaufcben quô ben ÏÔalbeôgriinben,
JBraufen au5 ben ^elfenbogen.
WuxQè in tofenben ^aôînbcn
®onnern ^ad) unb Qnell bevnieber,
Saufenb wei^e îlijen bûben
Srin bie fcï)aumumbli^ten - ©lieber.
SBilbelm ^fnfen, geboren 1837.
(3Ui§ toec^felnben îagen.)
2. ruisselautâ d'écume brillaaie.
Setr ^tmc unb ^cr 9iciH)c*,
III
9htn flatte ber r)îeid)c, \va§ er inoltte, ritt Ï)eimtt3tirt§ unb Bcfanii fid), Waê
er fid^ uninfd)en folltc. 2Bie er fo tiûd)barf)te iiiib bie SH^^ lailen lief^, ftng baâ
!:|3ferb an ju fpringen, fo baB er imiuerfort iii feincn ©ebanîen geftcirt iDiirbe
unb fie çjar nid)t ,yifammeii5rin9en îoimte.Sa imrb er itber bûS ^^ferb argerlii^
unb fprad) in llngebnlb : „<Bo WoliV id), bafj bn ben §alg jerbrcidjft !" Unb
mie er bn§ 2Bort auSQcfprodieu Ijattc, pdimp, ftet er nuf bie @rbe, unb la g bo§
^^^ferb tôt nnb rccjte fid) nid)t mcl)r, nnb luar ber erfte SKunfd) erfiUlt. SBeit er aber
gei,iig Uiar, luollte er bao ©attel^ençî nid)t im @tid) laffen, fd)nitt'S ab, Ijing'ê
auf ben 9îi:den unb mn^te nnn jn ijnfj nad) -s'^aufe ge^en. 2)od) triiftete er fid)
bamit, ha% it)m nod) jluei 2Biinfd)e iibrig uniren. 2Bie er nnn baliinging burdd
ben <Sanb, unb aie jn ïllittag bie ©onne Ijei^ brannte, umrb'ê it)m fo Uiarm
nnb Derbriefjlid) ^n 5Jlnte ; ber ©attct briidte i()n babei anf ben 9iiiden, auc^
Uiar tl)m nod) innner nid)t eingefallen, waê er fid) luiinfd)en follte. SCBenu ic^
mir and) aile 9{cid)e nnb (Sd)atie ber SBelt Uninfd)e, bad)te er bei fid) felbft, fo
t)abe id) ^ernad) bod) nod) allerlei ÎOiinfct)e, biefeê unb jeueâ, ba§ luei^ id) im
toorauS ; id) U)ill aber meineu 2Bunfd) fo cinrid)ten, ba^ mir gar nid)tê meï)r
Steî)e bie btcr onbetn îeile.
[197J DELTSCHtK ïfclL 37
ûbrig hUïbt, tuonûcf) ià) noiï) 2}ei1aiu3en [)dtte. DDÎeinte er, bieSmal ïjiitte er
ci\va§, fo fd)ien'ê it)m tjcxnad) bod) nie! 511 tucniij itnb ,yt gering. 2)a fam i^m
fo in bie ©ebant'en, mu eô. bud) feine îyuûit je^t cjut f)û()e ; fie fi|e bûl)eim in
einer fiif)(cn Stiibc iinb (nffe [id)'â motil fd)nieden. 1:aè angerte it)ii orbcntiid),
unb ot)ue bafe er'â uni^te, fprad) er fo t)in : „^d) luoUte, bie fà^e baijeitu auf
bem ©attel uiib fbiiiite nid^t t)erunter, ftûtt baf^ id) if]ii ba mit mir ûuf bem
Dîiirfen fd)Ieppe." Unb luie haè Ie|te 3Bort anâ feinem SJÎnnbe ïam, fo tt)av ber
©ûttel oon feinem 9îiiden OeufdjUntnben, nnb er merîte, ba^ fein jmeiter
ÎCnnfd) and) in Êrfiiiiunij cjegangen Wax. 5)a marb ii)m erft red)t tieife, unb
er fing an ju Inufcn unb loolite fid) balieim a,an^ einfam ijinfet^en unb auf
etmaê (Sro^eê fiir ben (e|iten SBunfd) uad)benfen. SKie er aber anîommt unb
feine ©tubentiir aufmadit, fitit ba feine 5^-au mitten barin auf bem ©attel
unb îann nid]t (]erunter, jammertunb fdireit. S)a fprad) er : „©ie6 bic^ 5nfrie=
ben, id) miii bir aile 9îeid)tiimer ber Ï53elt t]erbeimi'infd)en, nur bleib ba fi^en I"
©ie antmortete aber : „3.'!}aê l)elfen mir aile 9ieid)tiimer ber 2Belt, menn id) auf
bem ©attel ft^e ; I)aft bu mid) Ijeraufgeiininfdjt, fo mu^t bu mir and) tuieber
l)inunterl)elfen." (Sr mod)te luollen ober nid)t, er muçte ben britten ÏOunfd)
tun, ha% fie 00m ©attel lebig Wcire unb l)erunterfteigen fbnnte ; unb be:
SBunfd) tuarb aud) erfiiUt. 3llfo batte er nid)tâ baoon aU îtrtger, 3Jîiil)e unb
ein nerloreneS ^ferb ; bie 5(rmen aber (ebten oert3nUt3t, ftiU unb fuomni bvj
an it)X feligeê Snbe.
(@(^tuB.) 33rUber (Srimm.
(jîtnbermnb |)auêmarc^en.)
2)etr JBrtUcrnOof.
©d)on el)e bie ©onne aufgebt, iDirb e§ auf bem 58auernl)ofe ïebenbig.
©obalb ber §al)n ,^um 3(ufftet)en gerufen b^t, luedt ber -S^anSberr bie inédite
unb bie -JJlcigbe. 2)er -fined)t gebt in ben ©tall unb bie 5Jîagb in bie ^iid)e.
93alb fladert auf bem -ftud)enl)erbe unter bem i^affeetopfe ein luftigeô ^^i'^^*
2!?eun ber ^ned)t mit fc^lueren ®d)ritten iiber ben §of gel)t, bann lii^t
fid)'5 in aden ©tdllen l)oren. ®ie ^^ferbe ftampfen, bie <^iil)e briillen, bie
©c^roeine grun^en, unb bie ®anfe fdjuattern. Sie allé molien bamit fagen :
„2Bir finb aud) fd)on munter' unb baben .sônnger." 9hin mirb alleu il)r 3riil)=
ftiid gebrad)t, unb in bem âubftalle werben bie .ftill)e gemolfen. i^^ierauf fe^t
fic^ auc^ ber Sauer mit feinen Seuten an ben ^^•■ii^jfiii'^stifd).
Salb barauf gibt e§ neueâ Seben auf bem ^ofe. ^ii^e unb ©d)afe ge!^en
ï)inau§ auf bie 2Beibe. 3)er ^ned)t fpannt feine ^Braunen^ oor ben 2ôagen unb
labet ^flug unb Sgge auf. 3^er 33auer bffnet nod) fd)nelt bie Jîlappen am
£aubenfd)Iage-^ unb fdt)rt bann mit bem -^ned)te aufê g^elb.
5luf bem Ç")ofe ift'S nun fttller gemorben. 2)ie DJÎagb jie^t emfig am
93utterfaffe. S)ie gefd)dftige i^auêfrau aber bereitet haè 93Uttagêmal)I unb
t)olt baju au§ bem ©arten baê ©emiife unb auë bem ©d)ranfe baê $){el)t unb
bie ®ier. S)ie (Sdnfe unb bie Snten gel)en jum ®orfteid)e, um fid) ju baben.
33or ber ©dieunentenne* ïra^en bie .§iibner unb fudjen fid) ,Kbrnd)en. -^axo^
aber tiegt rubig in feiner ^iitte unb fnurrt nur nnmiUig ^ menu il)m ein
^ui)nd)m ju nabe fommt.
1. tvaà). — 2. feine braunen 5pferbe. — 3. pigeonnier. — 4. aire. — S. ber |)unb. — 6.
un3ufrieben.
38
DKUTSCHER TKIL [198]
SKenn ber Sïbeiib nûl)t, bamt îef)ren DDÎeufc^en unb îiere Dont ^eïbe imb
t)on beu SSeibe t)cim. 3)ie ^Bauerin ruft 311m 5lbenbefjen, ha§ allen nac^ ben
bieïen unb anftrengenben' 3ltï)eiten Doi-trepdimunbet^^îai^îurjeL- 3eit fucl)LMi
ûber bie Sente {f)L- 2?ett ûuf, benn bie fd)iueL-e gelbarbeit l)at fie mt'tbe cjemadjt.
Sfîur ber 23auer fiiiaut nocf) einnmt f)inanâ, ob anc^ allé S:uren \vot)l
tterfdjïoffen finb. I)ann binbet er ben -^aro loê, ber nnn bie 2Bac^e im §ofe
ûbernimntt.
9la(^ .^riea.
7. ermiibenben. — 8. jâjmecït.
2)ic eittfrtJnt.
%k ©onne luiU balb untert3et)en, ©efdjaftiû tnmnieln fid) ©d)uittcr unb
©d)nitterinnen, nm bie Ie|ten ©arben ^u fammeïn nnb 5U binben. S)er
(grnteumgen fte()t t)od) belaben auf bem nbgemdl)ten -S^aferfeïbe'. S)ie 5ldergctute
ftarren nngebnibig mit ben S^ii^en. 3et;t fliegt bie le^te ©arbe auf ben
3QSac3en, S)a§ grntefeit luirb iiber ba§ (ynber' Qcjogen nnb mittclft ber 9îoIle
ftraff gefpannt. 2)er lîned)t Idj^t bie ^Untjdje fnallen, nnb nnn jieben bie
^Pferbe on, anfangë nuif)[eliij fend)cnb^ im locferen 5lderboben, bann aber auf
tefter ©tra^e Inftig anëgreifenb, aie mUfiten [ie, ba% fie am letîten 3^uber
5iel)en. S)e§ Sanbmonnâ 23uben unb 3Jiûbd)en bec3lciten ben 2Bagen unb
ben^iûfommnenmit^rcnbcngefdjrei bie 53hitter, bie mit bem jappetnben ®an(3=
lin (3 nnf bem ''^Irm bem SKagen entt3e9cnc3el)t. 2)iefer fd)iuanft nnn burd) bivj
geoffnete %oï in hcn §of unb in bie ©chenue l)inein. ©c^nnrrenb unrb bao
©ei( berabge^ogen. Sic ©arben tcanbern Don i^ûnb jn -Spanb an ben bcftimmten
^ia^. 3)ie ^^ferbe tnerben anâgefpannt. 9Ba()renb bie 33dnerin baê ^ofgefinbc
âum 3lbenbbrot ruft, fiibrt ber ,^\ud)t bie crmiibcten Xiere in ben bet]ag(id)en
©taU oor bie gefiillte iîrippe *.
^arï dladc.
i. chanp d'avoine. — 2. charretée. — 3. soufflant, haletant. — 4. crèche.
^riiij <3ol^fiftf) tmif ttaé 5•ifd)ct•^nrt^d)Clt.
il
^n bemfetben Sanbe, loo biefeS gefd)al), ftanb am 53îeere§ftranbe, ba loo
ein Sat^ anë bem ÎBalbe fid) in ben (Sec ergofj, eine einfame ^iitte. ^n ber
§ûtte iDoljute ein armer alter ^ifi^ei-' '"it feiner 2:od)ter, unb bie t)iefe (SlSbetl).
©onft pflegtc ber 3Jtann jebe liebe 9kd)t, tuenn g^ifi^en§5eit imr, auf ben
3^ang in ben ©ee 511 fal]ren, aber auc^ am !îage ging er tDot)! bismeilen mit
ber 5lngel in ben 2Ba(b nnb l)oïte fid) ha au§ bem 33ad)e bie fd)5nften g^orellen '
unb ©djmerleu". 9JUt ben gefangenen tyifd)en pflegte er bann Don 3eit jn 3eit
ûuf ben Hîartt nad) ber -S'-ianptftabt jn gct)en, luo er einigeê ©elb bafiir ïofte.
S)a§ imr jlnar feljr l'oenig, boc^ lebte er bauon mit feinem lieben ^inbe jufrie^
ben unb oon i^erjen frot). — ^e^t luar aber ber arme 5}îann feit einiger 3cit
1. Imites. — 2. loches.
[199] DEUTSGHER TEIL 39
eiblinbet^ iinb uermodjte nic^tê 311 uerbienen ; ba cntid)Io^ fief) ®I§betf), bie mm
fd)on fedijel)!! ^ai)ït ait luar, beê 2}aterS ©efdjaft 511 betreiben, fot)ieI eS
einem ï)ÎQbd)en Don i^rem 5Utev moglid) i[t. ©te iwar fraftiej unb flinf, obfdjon
aii^erft feiit unb jart, non fd)îanfer ©eftalt unb Iieblid)em 5tntlil3.
®ineê 2ai]eô giiig fie and) luieber mit ^nc3eï nnb 3îet3 in ben 20û(b, um im
93ûd)e 5U fifdjen. ÎOoï)I jluei Stnnben brad)te fie boit an ben cjeinobuten Stellen
jn; fein J-ifc^ Uioûte fid) jeigen. — ©et)t'5 nid)t i)ier, fo ge^t'ê Wo anberë,
bad)te fie unb 50g tiefer in ben SBalb f)inein. ?lber aud) ba iDoûte nid)t§
fommen. ©0 50g fie lueiter unb n:)ettei-, bi§ fie ju einev ©telle fam, xvo ba§
SBoffei 5iuif(^en runben fettfamen ÎCanben einen tiefen, buntein SSei^er*
bilbete. -JîingSum ftanben fd)one 33(umen unb farbige 58iifd)e, unb baê aûeâ
gab einen anmutigen SBiberfc^ein in bein bunfein ©piegel be§ ÏBafferâ.
®ê wax DJlittag, alleâ ftiû in lueiter Sîunbe. ^ein Siiftd)en ging, fein
^lûttdjen beiDegte fid), unb aile 9}bgel in ben 93aumen fd)ienen ^u fd)Iûfen.
^ux einige bïaue Sibetten flatterten iiber bem ÎBaffer t)in unb t)ec unb fogen
f)ier unb bort an ben gelben î^afferlilien unb ben Uiei^cn ©eetuïpen.
9îid)t mcit 00m Ufer ragte ein tneiBer, plattgeuiafdjener ©tein auâ ber 3^ïut
^erauê, gerab' aïs loar' er jn einem bequemen ©il3 eingerid)tet, D.ltit teid)ten
©prûngen tjiipfte Slêbetf) iiber bie ^iefel ju bem ©tein bin, fe^te fid) barauf,
travf it)re 5lngel au§ unb fan g mit îîarer ©timme i^r Sodtiebc^en :
,,Qiiàlà)en, îomm jd^neïl !
©onne fc^eint i)eH.
9)lucfc^en im Sonnenjc^eiu
SBartet ^ier obcn bein.
5)3tiicîc^en ift jart unb fnic^
§oi' biï'â, bu jcîioner ^ijcî)!"
,^'aum Uiav bie ©d)nur im aBaffer, fo bi^ aud) fc§on etluas an, unb lî3ie fie'0
^eranjog, luar e§ ein (Eolbfifd). 3(IS (Elébetf) ibn Don ber 5lngel Io!5mad)en
toollte, fab fie, baf] er fid) nid)t am §aïen, fonbcrn in bie ©d)nur eingebiffen
^atte, aud) lie^ er fic^ ot)ne ©trduben ° oon it)r in bie §anb net)men. Sr fd)aute
fie mit feinen flaren, ftugen 3tugen lange an.
„aBa§ fief)ft bu mic^ benn fo an, bu t)ilbfd)er gifd) ?" fprad) Slêbet^ unb
freute fic^ iiber ben ©lanj feiner ©d)UppenS „3d) btn bir gut," antmortete i^r
ber ©otbfifd), „unb luili bid) gliidlid) mad)en !" — @(§betb erfd)raï unb luarf
it)n inê 2Baffer juriid ; ba§ îier aber rief inieber non unten : „Unb wenn ba
mir nid)t glaubft, fo bebe ba§ gro^e 23(att ber ©eetutpe auf, ba§ red)t!j bon
beinem ©tein fid) liber ba§ aSaffer legt. ®ovt fd)au' binnuter." — 23ei bief en
SKorten fd)o^^ ber Q^ifd) in bie Siefe.
Êlêbett) munberte fid) allerbingê ein iDenig iiber bieê feltfame ?lbenteuer,
balb aber gefiet ibr bie ©ad)e, unb fie tat, luie jener e§ i()r gebei^en. 5n§ fie
ha§ geiualtige a3(att auft)ob, fat) fie luie burd) einen i^riftad tief auf ben
©runb bes ©ees. Êin îtareê 8id)t ergoB fid) burc^ ba§ 2Baffer ; ha fd)aute fie
ÏBunber iiber ïi>unber. ^n einem b(iit)enben ©arten ftanb ein <^bnig§fd)fo^
unb nor bem ©d)ïoffe jmei îb^-'onf effet mit iueiBem ©amt» ; auf bem einen ïag
ber ©otbfifd), ber aubère ftanb teer ; aud) fab fie 9îitter unb ^raulein burc^
bie §eden ba unten jieben unb oor bem ©olbftfd) fid) neigen''. a)on bem ©tein,
auf bem glëbett) fafj, fii()rte eine friftallene 2:repbe binunter ju bem ©d)tof3,
unb auf jebem 5lbfa^ ber Zuppe ftanben ^agen, bie fal)en nac^ ibr fjinauf,
ûU irarteten fie ibreS SBinîeê. S^aê fat) atteê fo fd)bn auê, ba^ glêbet^ fid^
3. aveugle. — 4. élang. — 5. sans se débattre. — 6. écailles. - 7. s'élauça. —
8. velours. — 9. s'incliner.
40 UEUTSCHER TEIL [200J
%ax nid)t fatt bauan felieii fonnte. — '^laà) eiiiigeu 3^^^ demerfte fie, wie ber
©olbfifd) ftd) Don feiuein S;[)i-on|efjeI eutjob uitb an bte Oberfladje beâ SSaiferô
l^erûnfgefdjWommen fani. 2Bieber jaf) er [te fo fueunblic^ an unb rief : „®(âbett) I
33erla^ beincn 3}ater unb beine arme, fd)ted)te §ûtte unb fomm ju mir
l^erunter, î)a follft bu auf bem 2^1)ronjeifeI, ben bu ge]'ef)en, neben mir fi^en
unb eine ^H-in'^efftn fein, unb ic^ xmH bir greuben fd)affen, fiuiiel baê ^a()r
%aa,c jatjlt."
„®i, bu nid}tonut3iQeS Xier !" rief (Stèbett) im ï)ôd)ften 3orn. ,3Jîetuen
35ûter follt' id) Derlaffen? 2)a ! nimm bie 3(ntuiort auf beine bummen 9leben I"
unb babei ergriff fie ben nad)ften .^iefelftein '° unb iDarf i^n bem gifc^ an ben
^opf.
Ser 5ifd) unb ber ©tein plumpften in§ SSaffer, aber in bemfelben 5Iugen=
ïilid ertiob fid) ein SKirbeliuinb*', unb bie 3BelIen be§ Seeâ fprit;ten mitmcifeem
6d)aum t)od) in bie Cuft. îief auâ bem ®ee l}erauf erfd)oU ein burd)bringenber
31on, erft uiel)miitig unb flagenb, al§ foUt' er einem haè s^crj mitten entjiuei
fd)neibcu, bann aber flang e§ raieber voit tuftige ^fbten unb ©d)a(meien'-, bi§
enbtid) and) biefe îbnc fd)tt)icgen. S)ie SBelIen befanftigtcn fid), unb bao ÏOaffer
itiar fo ftill unb biinfefgriin alS .^lOor.
3tun fat) Êlêbctt) auc^ ben ©olbfifd) unebcr auê bem ÎJ}affer taud)en, er
fd)lnamm aber nid)t luie t)ort)in, fonbern lag auf ber ©eite, unb aU fie nal)er
l)infd)aute, mar e§ nur bie -S^aut be3 îiereS, iDeber S^Ieifd) uod) ©rdten barin.
Éd)nc(l griff fie mit ber -S^anb banad) unb batte eben bie 3^ifd)l)aut iiber bas
2Baffcu bcruorge.^ogcn, aU bao grofee 2?tatt ber ©ectuïpe neben il)r fid) erbob
unb ein UHÙf3er 33cC!ifd)enarm barinitcr l)erauffu()r, ber ebcnfallâ nad) ber
©d)uppent)aut greifeu wotlte. 5lber fd)on ()attc ba§ 9.1tabd)en biefe in i[)re
©d)itrje oerborgen, unb bie luei^e i^anb 50g fid) tuicber unter baè ÎBaffer
âuriid.
ÊiSbett) fpraiig nnn fd)ncU non if)rem ©teine lueg aii§ llfer unb mad)tc, baft
fie fo rafd) une moglid) auê bem îi^aïbe fam. Gê unir il)r bod) an bem ©ce rcd)t
init)eimlid) jumute gc\rlorben'^ Srft aU fie ben 2,'OaIb t)inter fid)ï)atte, nal)m fie
bie (Sd)uppent)aut auè il)rer ©d)iir5e l)erDor. (Si, luie luar bie fd)on I luie
funîeltc fie im Cid)te I S)er ©lanj fd)ien tuie lauter ?lbenbgolb unb 5î(benbrbte,
e§ uiar iininbemoU ju fe()en ; unb bod) iDarb @(5bet() and) luieber red)t non
^erjen tiaurig, inenn fie barau bad^te, bafj fie auS bïofjer ilbcreilung ben
ûrmcn ^M't totgclnorfen batte. 2)er b'itte eë nicUcid)t mit feinen bununeu
9îeben gar nid)t fo bbfe gemeint. ®a§ SJlitleib trieb it)r fogar bie ■Irdiicn in
bie Sïugen.
3ns fie nad) -^aufe ïam, moUte fie erft bem S)ater alIeS erjablen, \vaè i^r
begegnet ïnar ; jebeSmal aber, menu fie banon anfangen inoUte, luar'ê i^r
tmeber, a\è luenn il)r cinc ©timme jurief : „S(ébct() I tu' eê nid)t 1" — So
t)erfd)lo^ fie benn bie ©djUppcnl)aut beimiid) in il)re iîifte, fie I)offte, biefelbe
ibrer feltenen (£d)bnl)eit luegen in ber i^auptftabt fiir ein paar ©rofd)en jn
Derïaufen unb bem i>ater eine unnerl)offte Q^reube ju mad)en.
(^-ortfe^ung foigt.)
Oîeinid.
(®efd§i(^ten unb Siebcr fûv bie ^ugcnb.)
10. caillou. — 11. tourbiHon. — 12. clialuiiieaux. — 13. elle s'élait seutie mal a l'aise.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 6.
20 Décembre 1907.
8« Année.
:^r§Lv. ' i
DEUTSGHER TEIL
Mistelzweige '.
Von G. SCHE.NRLINI
Man weili, daf; es langer Zeit beclurlle, ehe das Weihnachtsfest zu dem
wiirde, was es heute ist. Ans der Verscliiuelznng- einiger Feste unserer Alt-
vordern hervorgegangen, kostete es den Vertretern der jnngen Kirche viel
Arbeit, die dem nun kirchlichen Feste anhaftenden Briiuche zn beseitigen.
Dafs dies bis hente noch niclit endgiiltig gelungen, wcifit du selbst, verehrle
Leserin, die dn in stiller Einsarakeit der Nacht kartenschlagend oder blei-
giefiend -^ oder loswerrend '► damit beschiiftigt warst, den kùnftigen Freier ■ zn
erraten.
Bei den nordischen Vôlkern haben sich solch altheidnische Brauche besser
(M'halten als bei nns zulande. Da glimnU hente noch in der heiligen Nacht als
hest des einstigen Wintersonnwendfestes'' der Julblock'' anfdem Ilerd. Auch
in England, besonders in Wales, finden sich noch Ùberbleibsel ans grauer
Vorzeit, nnd eines derselben, der Mistelbnsch, spielt bei der Weihnachtsfeier
sogar eine wichtige Rolle.
Uurch die Verniahlnng der Kônigin Viktoria mit dem y*rmce Consort Albert
von Sachscn-Koburg-Gotha bat der deutsche Weihnachtsbanm zwar auch in
England Eingang gefnnden, nnd langsam bahnt er sich einen Weg in die
Palaste der Aristokratie und Wohnhanser der vornehmen Biirger, aber das
Volk kennt ihn noch nicbt. Ihni brin^t die Stechpalme {Nolly) und Mistel
(mistleioe) das Grïm in die AVeilinachtsstube. Dabei kommt die Mistel in
England fast gar nicht mehr vor; der AVeihnacbtsbedarf mufs znm groftten
Teil ans Frankreich herïiber geholt werden, nnd die Mengen der alljahrlich
von Granville nnd Gherbourg iiber den Kanal ausgeluhrten Mistelzweige
wiegen Tansende von Kilogramm auf.
1. branches de nui. — 2. réunion. — 3. en faisant fondre du plomb. — i. en con-
sultant le sort. — 5. fiancé. — 6. fête de l'équinoixe d'hiver. — 7. bûche de Xoël.
[31] ALLEU . 6
45 DEDTSGHËR TEIL [242 i
Die Mistel ist ein Schmarotzer^ unserer \N'ald-iind Obstbaiiine, und hat seit
den altesten Zeiten die Aut'merksamkeit der Menschen aufsicli gelenkt. Die
krenzweis gcstellten Zweige, deren goldgriine Rinde gerade dann am gol-
digsten erscheint, wenn ailes Pflanzengriin geschwiinden, die immergriinen
Blalter, die schneeweiÊen Beeren, ihr Vorkommeii in dem hôchsten Geàst
der Baunikronon und gjinzliclies Fehlen auf dem Erdhoden machten die
Mistel zu einer Wunderpflanze. Und da ailes, was wunderbar erscheint, seit
je von dem Mensclieri in das Reicli des Wundertatigen gezogen wird, und er
in dem Ûnbegreifliclieh das Dasein hôherer Machte ahnt^, so dai-f es nicht
Vér-wuridern, dafî schon Hippokrat, der erste Ârzl des Altertunis, die Pflanze
zu Ehren brachte, indem er ihr Heilkrafte zuschrieb.
Ëiiimal im Geruch'" der Wundertatigkeit,konnle es doch dem unbedeutenden
Schmarotzer nicht schwer fallen, sich selhst in die religiôsen Vtjrstellungen
dér geheimnisglaubigen Menschen zu drangen. Der magische Zweig der
Persephone", durch dessen Hilfe die Pforten der Unterweltsichôffaen, war
ein Mistelzweig, und Vergil '- lâ6t den Aeneas durch eihen Mistelzweig in die
Unterwelt gelangen.
Weiter erzàhlt die nordische Mythe, Baldur^^ sei von den (iôttern so geliebt
worden, dafi Odin und Frigg allen NaturkrVilten, Tieren, Steinen, Pflanzen.
Krankheiten und Giften einen Eid abnahmen, dem Gott Baldur in keiner
Weise zu schaden. Allein ôstlich von Walhall vegetierle auf einem Baum der
Misteitein, der sich hinter dem Blattwerk •'^ verborgen hielt und bei der
Schwurabnahme ' ' iibersehen wurde. Dem neidischen Loki ''^ war indessen sein
Standort wohl bekannt. Als sich die Gotter einst belustigten, nach dem
unverwundbaren Baldur Spiefie und Speere zu werlen, nahm l.oki den
Misteitein, gab denselben dem blinden Hôdiir, richtete dessen Hand, so dafj
das Ziel getroffen werden mnfUe, und Baldnr sank todeswund zii Boden. In
der VoUispa ' ' heifît es deshalb : « Gewachsen war — hoch iiber den Wiesen —
derzarte, zierliche Zweig der Mistel. Von der Mistel kam — haljlicher Harm "*
— da Hôdur schoÊ.» Der schone Mythns ist unschwer zu deuten'-': Er stellt
den Sieg der Winternachl iiber das allerfreuende Lichldar. Der blinde Hôdur
ist aber nur ein Werkzeng in der Hand des Loki, und seit der Zeit galt auch
die Mistel, die da grûnt, wenn ailes in Ei-starriiug liegt, als ein Werkzeng des
Bôsen. Dessen ungeachtet'-'* lernen wir sie nach der Drnidenreligion als eine
hochheilige Pflanze kennen, ohne die kein Gottesdienst stattfinden konnti;.
Aber anf der Eiche mn&te sie gewachsen sein, und war sie gefnnden, so zog
man am « allheilenden » Tage, das ist am seclislen nach dem Nenmond, mil
groêerFeierlichkeil hinaus in den Wald, bereitet(> Opfer-' und Mahlzeiten und
fûhrte zwei weifie Stiere herbei, deren Horner unter dem heiligen Eichbanm
znm erstenmal umwunden wnrden. Der Oberdruide bestieg, mit weiÉem
Gewande angetan, den Baum und schnitt mit goldener Siebel die Mistel ab,
welche in einem weifien Tuche antgefangen wurde, damit sie, die himmlisch
iiber der Erde Erzeugte --, nicht durch irdischt>n Staub beriihrt und ver-
unreinigt werde. Nunmehr wnrden die Stiere geopfei't und die Gottheil
angefleht, das Geschenk, das sie gegeben, auch zu segnen. Der Priester sprach
dann iiber die einzelnen Zweige den Weihespruch und verteilte sie unter die
Anwcsenden, die ihi-en Zauberkraften vertrauten.
[Fortset:-un<i fo'f/t.)
8. parasite. — 9. président, suppose. — 10. ('tant en odeur de. . ., ayant la réputolion
(/,j _ — 11. Proseipine.— 12. Viniile. — 13. Goll des Fmblings. — 14. Laub. — 15. pres-
tation du serment. — 16. Golt der Vernirhtung. — 17. iyiytliologi>ches Lied au'^ der Edda.
— 18. UnglUck. — 19. erklareo. — 20. néanmoins. — 21. sacri/ices — 22. Gehorene.
r243] DEDTSCHER TEIL 43
^ev ^ctti^dic JKcichèfrtttîtcr iibcr hic mtétvàvtiiic "Jj^olitit,
^Km29. îîobemïicr "^ieït 9îcicï)§tan,^leï gûrft Suloïti etnc gliinjenbe 5{ebe, bet lt)tr f otgenbe
fiit iinfere l'eiet Iiejonbeï» inteveifaiite étellen entnet)meti :
^(^ module mm auf einige ^^ragen ber auêludrtigen ^^olitif eingc^en, bie f^ier tierûf}rt
Uuirben finb.
8eitbetn ià) juïe^t nn biefer ©telle tnirf) iiber 93taroïfo QUOgejpro(^en f)abe,ïinb neue
ltnruf)en iïber btefeë Sanb geïommen. Siefe Uttruf)en i)aben, mie ©te loiffen, in Qa^a-
blanca einen befouberë crnfteu (îf)arafter nngenommen. (Sine gcmiffe Stnjaf)! im ©ienfte
fran,50|iicf)er Unternef)mer ftet)enber (Suropiier, in itérer 93lef)rï)eit 3^von3oien, l'iub bem
3^anatièmu§ einer erregten $?oIfsinenge jum Cpfer gefallen. Se ift tnogïid^, bafe biefe
iiblen Sreigniffe ni^t eingetreten ttniren, menn bie in ber 9Ugerira§=3lfte Dougefefiene
^oïijeitruppe im 3n"i bereitô in 9lrbeit geiuefen uictre. Post festum fold^e a3etracï)tnngen
an,5ufteEen, ift freilit^ miifeig ' ; une bie a}erf)Qltniffe Itegen, blieï) ber fran3i)ftf(^en
Dîegiernng nic^t toof)l cttooê anbereè itbrig, aie 3ur ©eHift^tlfe ^u fi^reiten. ©pttnien
aie minber fd^iuer tterle^ter '^ Çaïtor ift in eng gejogenen ©renjen mit g^ranfreid^
gegangen. ^â) erfenne eê mit ®anï an, iJafe bie fpnnif(ï)e me bie fransofifcfie Dîegierung
une rcd^tjeitig Don ber î)eabfid)tigten 2lîtion in lîennlniô gefe|t ^aben. ©ofe toir biefer
3lïtion îeine .Çinberniffe in ben 2Geg gelegt t]nben, ift felbftnerftanbïic^. ©benfo felbft=
DerftdnbUc^ ift, bafe biefe 9(ftion fid) unter ber alleinigen îBerantmortnng'^ ber bcteiligten
3Dldcf)te betnegte unb fic^ nid)t im Oîa^men ber 2lIgecirQë=3tfte belnegte, anrf} bie
aSerantUiortIidjteit ber onberen ÎJKii^te nidjt beriifirte. S)aranê folgt flir nnê bie ^^fUc^t
ftrenger 3ui"iirfl)altung S bie iâ) oncf) barin beobaiïiten Juilt, bafe icE) mi(^ an biefer
©telle liber ©injel^eiten bes franjofifdien i^orgefienë in (iafablanca ni(ï)t ansfprec^e.
Seiber ^at biefeé $Borge{)en ancf) ju einer ©cCjdbigung bentfc^er unrtfc^aftlic^en unb
fonftigen prinaten 3ntereffen gefii^rt. Sie ©c^iiben unuen fo ernftiitïier D^atur, bafe
nad^ 3uiiertdffigen ■' 5îa(ï)ric^ten o^ne fofortigeë (f ingreifen ber 9înin beutfcf^er .»panbeîê=
l^dufer 3u befiirc^ten toar. ^<^ fiabe mi(^ besî)arb, uorbefjaltlicf) « ber nac^trdgtid^en ^
3uftimmung biefe§ î)o:^en §aufeê, entfi^loffen, auë DteicÇiêmitteïn bie ©umme non
250 000 5Jlarï aU erfte bringenbe $8eir)ilfe fiir bie gefi^dbigten ©eutfcEien 3ur a,kr=
fiigung '^ 3n ftelten. (2ebt)after Seifaû.) ®ie fac^gemdBeSSerec^nnng ber ©iitfcfjdbigungen
i^at ftattgefnnben. S)ie bem entfpred^enbe S^erteitung ber ©elber ftefjt unmittelbar beDor.
^à) n^ieberl^ote, bafe ce fi(^ nnr nm eine norïdnfige ÎOla^regel f)anbelt. S)ie meitere
ORegetung ber ©i^dben loirb liorau§ficf)tIi(ï) ■' eine internationale ^ommiffion befdjdftigen,
bie bemndc^ft 3ufammentretcn foll. SBSeitere SrU'dgnngen '" ber 9JKirf)te bleiben Wor=
befialten. Se luirb ein mit ber 3llgecira§=2lïte 3n oereinbarenber 5Jtobuê fur bie
2lufbringung ber ©ntfrfidbignngëgelber gefnnben inerben miiffen.
Siie greigniffe in (fafablonca l)ûben and) eine anbere garage in 3^lu6 gebrad^t, bie
iljrerfeitci mieber in ben îRaf)men ber 2ngeciraê=3lfte gel^ijrt, ndmlic^ bie Organifiernng
ber ^Dli3eitrnppe in ben maroffanifc^en .<pdfen. ®ie fransufifc^e nnb bie fpanifd^e
9îegiernng finb in biefer S3e3iel)ung mit ISorfc^ldgen an bie anberen ©ignatarmdd^te
t)erangetreten, bie anf eine norldnfige itber ben 5Raf)men ber 2llgeciraê=9tfte i)nauè'
greifenbe Crganifation ber 'ipoli3eitrnppe nur mit fran3ofifiï)en unb fpanifd^en §ilfê=
ïrdften o^ne marotfoniftïie ^*oli3iften ab3ielten.
llnferen ©tanbpunït gcgenitber biefen S3orf(f)ldgen l^aben Uiir in einer S)enïf(^rift
prd3ifiert. 2)er (Sebanïe ift ni(ï)t 3ur 2tnêflil)rung geïommen. 3n3toifcf)en ift in ben
(Ereigniffen in 53îarotto ein gelniffer ©titlftanb eingetreten. 2Bie fid^ bie bortigen 33er=
^dltniffe meiter entuntfeln toerben, bin ici) ntd)t in ber Sage, Ql^nen ^eute fagen gu
fonnen. SGir merben jebenfallë biefe (Sntmicfelnng mit rnl)iger Jfteferde beobadl^ten, im
SSertrauen auf bie fioljalitdt ber fran3Dfif(ï)en Sîegicrnng.
©è ift ein beutft^eê Quiff^ff^ ^é ift and) ein europdifd^eâ Sfntereffe, ba^ bie 2lnge=
l^origen aller enropdifdl)en 3[Jtdiï)te in 5!)îaroïto balbmoglic^ft toieber in ber getoolinten
1. oiseux. — 2. lésé. — 3. responsabilité. — 4. réserve. — 5. digoes de confiance.
— 6. sous réserve de. — 7. ultérieur. — 8. disposition. — 9. probablement. — 10. esti-
mations.
4i DEUTSCHKR TEIL 1 244J
SiJeife i^reni ÊrlDcrbe na(ï)3et)eu founeii. Sic ©runbïagen btefev — fjoffcntUc^ baih
Juieberfelirenben ^ ruf)igen unb frieblii^en ^uf^i^'^^^ '^^^^ ^^^ 3t{gectraë=3Ifte (leunrïen.
aSenn itf) oon SQîaroffo unb 3U9eciraê fpre(|e, mb(ï)te icf) boc^ anâ) einem ^rrtum,
einer falfc^en 93el)auptung entgegentreten, bie 3uer|"t im ©eric^têfaaf unb fpiiter ancf) in
ber greffe auftjefteUt loorben ift.
Sïlan ï)ût gefogt, bafe ©eutjcïitanb in ben le^îten î^af)ren jtoeimat nor ber ernften
©efal^r eine§ .Ktiegcê geftanben Î)a6e, baé eine ÏÏRai Uiat)renb ber 9Jcaroîto=ïiJirren, baê
anbere ïlîat im ^a^re 1904 nacE) ber bamatigen î^littelineerreife 8einer DJtajeftdt be§
^aiferê, ^a, meine §erren, foU id^ nod^maï^ bie internationalcn ©ci^iDicrtgfeiten
erbrtern, bie 3U ber 3iiaugurierung ber 9Sal)rnng unferer ^ntereffen in DJlarofîo
gefii^rt ^aben? ^^ glauk nic^t, ba^ baâ nii^lid) ludre. Hm 9Jlarotfo ()dtten luir fo
icenig .Krieg gefiitjrt loie im ^at^re 1810 um bie îpanifcîie Sfjronfanbibatur. 2)aê eine
Uiie haè anbere tonnte ber Slnlag " luerben, nufere @^re, unfer 3tnïel)en, unfere
©tellung in ber ÏÔelt 3U uerteibigen. (®e^r rid}tig.) ©omeit lual)renb ber 931aroïfo=
Uiirren eine fteigenbe .(Trieg'àgefaïir lior{)nnben luar, ift bie Sac^e in 5t(gecirQê geregeit
U'orben. ©anj unerftnbïicf) '^ aber ift eô mir, uiie non einer im 3aï)ïe lUOi- beftanbenen
Jîriegêgefaï)r ^at gefproc^en Uierben ïcinnen. Sûeil eâ 3U feiner 23egegnung geïommen
tt)are jtoifd^en ©r. SOlajeftât bem ^aifer unb beni ^rdfibenten ber fran3ofifc^en 9îepu=
Hiî? — barum JîriegeV 2Beber ber lÎQifer nocï) ber '|.h-dfibent f)at bnran gebacf)t unb
iiPerfjaupt ouc^ nur baran benîen fbnnen. @3 ift îinblit^, 3U glaubcn, eê ift tenben3iii§,
glauben :nacf)en 3U luollen, bafe in unferer 3fit 3Uii)cfien grofeen jinilifiertcn 5hitionen
ein ^rieg anbere entftef)en fbnnte, al5 megen einer 5i"'^iîf» bie bie ÏL'elienâintereffen
biefer 3>blter Periil)rt. (Setjr ri(^tig.) ©eliiife ï)at bie glei(^3eitige 3lnUiefenl)eit beê
>^aiferê unb beê ^^rdfibenten im IDîittelmeer ben ©ebanïen an eine Scgcgnung 3UnfcÇ)en
bciben 6eftef)en laffen. ®iefer ©ebanfe ift aber niemalê liber baê ©ebiet frommer
SBiinf^e'^ f)inanëgetomiiien. ©ë f)nt niemnid eine Slufforberung '''• ftattgefnnben, eé
ift niemafê eine 3lblel)nung '■■ erfoigt. ^n ber fran3bfifc^en greffe f)abe idf) auc^ geïefen,
©e. SJiQJeftdt ber .^'aifer l)dtte erboft iiber bie .Ç)er3lic[)feit ber in 9îom unb îtîcapel
3niif(ï|en bem iîonige uon ^tatien unb bem ^^^rdfibenten ber fran35fifcf)en îlîepnblit
auQgetaufrf)ten 2rintfpriirf)e feine 9{eifc iiber '-iU'ncbig ftatt iiber ©enno befd^lcunigt,
unb auf biefe ÏÔcife jebe 9Jti.ig(id)feit einer iBegegnnng mit bem '^rdfibcntcn ber fran3b=
fifcî)en 9îepubtit befeitigt. 3(ucî) ha^ ift irrig. 6cine DJtajeftdt ber ^aifer befanb fid)
bereit^ ouf beutfc^cm Soben, aie in 5îeapel bie 2rintfprii(f)e auêgetaufdjt ixnirbcn.
(.S^Tort! I)brt!)9Jht fo[rf)en 2cgenbcn an^ ber i8ergangenl)cit inirb, mie mir fcfjeint, ber
©egenmart nirf)t gebient.
9Jieine §erren, ed ift anà) baî rnffifcî)--cnglifd)e 3lbfommen "* iiber 9(fien bcriiî)rt
Uiorben- itber biefeé îlbfommen ijahe id) mid) ja fd)on auêgefprod)en unb bamalé bie
SSenbung gebraud^t : SJon ben J^einbfdiaftcn anberer untereinanber ïbnnen mir nidit
leben. ÏÔaê bamalë beiiorftanb, ift in3Unfd)en 2atfad)e gemorben. ©0 bemegt fid) baô
Slbïommen auc^ in ben ®ren3en, bie ii) bamalé norauêfe^te, unb meine 5tnffaffnng ift
biefelbe geblieben unb namcntlid^ mit 23e3ug baranf, ba% baè 9(bfommen ïeine ©pi^e
gegen ®eutfd)lanb entf)a(te unb bnrd) bie inîunfdien erfoïgte Segegnnng non ©mine:
miinbe unb 2SiIf)eImê^ol)e unb burc^ ben .ftaiferbefn(^ in ©nglanb nod) beftdrtt morben.
Sluf bie in ber '!^3reffe niel erbrterte J^rage : luer bei bem Slbfommen baê beffere ©efd)dft
i)(xbi, ïann id) mid) nid)t einlaffen. ®aë liegt in ber 3ufunft. ^i) gtaubc, bie 9toïIe be§
rubigen Seobad)terê ift berjenigen beê ':propr)eten nor3U3iet)en. (©ei)r rid;tig !) 2luc^ auf
bie fogenauntc ©infreifnngâgefafic '" milt id) nidit eingefjen. !^<î) tonnte ba nur miebcr^
!)oIen, nmâ i(^ fd)on frii^er gefagt {)aî>e. Qc^ benfe, mir finb aile Sage ber 2lnfid)t ; bie
bcfte ^^olitit bleibt, auf bem ^often ju fein, mad)fam unb furd)tIoô ju fein. (©el^r
ric^tig unb $8rano !) ^d) benfe, mir £)alten eé aile mit bem tapferen ©dimaben : ber
macïere ©i^mabe ford)t '** fid^ nid)t, er reitet beê SBegeë ©d^ritt fiir ©diritt.
3c^ mill aud^ non biefer ©telle auQ ineiner iBcfriebigung 3luébrucî geben iiber bie
2luïnat)me,meldE)e unfer iîaifcrpaar in ©nglanb non -ilonig unb 3}olt bereitet morben
ift. (8ebl)after SSeifall.) ^à) glaube, menn in ber 3iit"nft einmal an ber .s^anb ber
H. l'occasion. — 12. incompréhensible. — 13. souhaits pieux (= vains). — 14. injouclion .
- 15. refus. — 16. convenlion. — 17. danger d'encerclement (= d'isolement). — 18. fiiïd)tet.
,245 DKUTSCHER TKIL 45
Quelleu afteumdBig '*• unb nia^r^eitçjgemciB bie ©efc^id^te ber le^teii je'^n ^aï)re
gefcOrieben ïcirb, fo inirb ftd^ £)erauêftet{en, ba^ bte ©pannung 3iinii$en Seut^d^Ianb
unb ©ngïanb, bie lange, bie ,5U lange auf ber 2G3e(t geïaftet i\at, ani le^ten @nbe juriicf^
,îufii£}ren loar auf ein groges gegenieitigeâ ÎJHBUerftiinbniê. (Sac^en 6ei ben So3iat=
bemofraten.) ^eber traute bem anberen ^tnfic^ten unb .'pintergebanfen ^n-^, bie in
aBirtlic^feit gar nic^t beftanben. Unb biefe^ SJliBuerftdnbniâ 5U Oefeitigen, unb baê auê
biefem DJtiBnerftanbnié. rcjuttieveiibe lUiBivauen 5uriicf,5uuieiïen, ba,]u retcf)ten bie
beibei-feitigen iRegierungen nic^t ané, lueun fie auc^ nom beften ÏÏÔiûen erfiiKt luaren ;
bie offentlicfie 5Jteinnng iiuiBte initi)elfen, bie ^^veffe, toofjlgefinnte unb cifvige 3^ïie=
bcnéfreunbe. 2)n^ fie in @ng(anb ni(ï)t uiufonft gearbeitet f)a6en, baé ,5eigt bie unferem
.fiaiferpaar bcreitetc 3hifnalime. 3iï) l^in ficf)er, baB ic^ bie ©efiif)(e beè beutfcf)en 9}oIîeô
luiebergcbe, inenn iif) fage, baB fo((ï)e fvieblicC^cn unb freunblicf)en (Sefii^Ie 6ei une cr=
roibevt unb aufric^tig geteilt merben. (Stiirmifc^ev SeifaK.)
19. k raide de documeuts officiels. — 20. traute... ju, allrihuait.
Wie unsere deutsche Muttersprache ward.
m
In dem langen Zeitraiim seit derTrenniing der indogermanischen Stamme
bis zu ihrem ersten Auflreten in Ijteratui'dcnUmiilern hat die deutsche
Spraclie ein von der Ursprache ' ganzabweichendes Aussehen angenoinmen.
Das « Knochengeriist » der Sprache, die Konsonanten sind am melsten der
Veranderung ausgesetzt gewesen ; sie wiirden « verschoben », wie der
Altnieister- und Begri'inder der deiUschen Sprachwissenschaft, Jacob Grimm,
die Erscheinung nannte, die sich im Leben der deiitschen Sprache nochmals
wiederholte. Auf der Stufe der ersten [.autverschiebung^ blleben das Nieder-
deutsche, das l'inglische und die norddeutschen Sprachen stehen ; das Hoch-
deulsche erlitt aliein eine zweite l.autverschiebiing, von der spiiter die Rede
sein wird. Wir vergleichen aus dieseui Grunde ''■ aiehrlach englische Wôrter
mit laleinischen Wortern. Wo der Lateiner piscis sagt, redet der Deutsche
vom « Fisch », ires (drei) heifit englisch three, celare (c = k) ist gleich
« /lehlen « ; also p, t, k wurde zu f, th (englische Aussprache), h im Germa-
nischen. Andere Konsonanten der Ursprache werden gleicht'alls «verschoben >> :
b zu p, d zu t (lat. c/ecem = engl. ten « zehn »), g zu k (lat. p^enu = deutsch
A'niej usw. Keine andere indo germanische Sprache hat die ursprachlichen
Konsonanten in so folgerichtiger Art verandert und ein so iibersichtliches
neues System entwickelt, wie das Germanische. Xeu ist auch die Retonungs-
weise des Germanischen. Der Wortakzent, der in der Ursprache jede Silbe
trefTen konnte, wird nunmehr auf die Stammsilbe, d.h. meist die erste des
Worts zuriickgezogen, wie es bis heutegeblieben ist. Dièse Erscheinung teilt
das Germanische freilich mit dem Keltischen, und es ist nicht ausgeschlossen,
da6 das Lelztere hiei-in tonangebend war, wie iiberhaupt die Geraianen bis
zur Bekanntschaft mit den Romern ganz unter dem Eintluli der iiberlegenen
keltischen Kultur standon ; die Wôrter << Amt, Eid, Reich » z. R. sind Entleh-
nungen aus der keltischen Sprache.
Aile bisher erwahnten Wandelungen fallen noch vor die Zeit, in der die
Germanen zum ersten Mal in der Geschichte erscheinen, was kurz vor
Ohristi Geburt der Fall ist (wenn wir von dem vercinzelten Auftreten der
Cimbern absehen-'). Noch mehr als8 Jahrhunderte aber sollten vergehen, ehe
1. langue primitive. — 2. palvinrche. — 3. mutation conxonnantique. — 4. pour
cette l'ciiso)!. — 5. fuisoriii ab^^lraction.
46 DEUTSCHER TEIL [246]
unsere Muttersprache in die Ileilie der literariscli bezeugten Sprachen eintrat.
Inzwischen batte das Hoctideutsche, die Sprache der Siid-und Mitteldeutschen
und die Urahne" uriserer heutigen Schriftsprache, eine weitere Verànderung^
durcligemaciit. Wiederum waren es die Konsonanten, die in Mitleidensehaft
gezogen wtirden''. Ein Vergleich mit dem Xiederdeutschen oder Englischen,
die auf der Stufe der ersten Lautversciiiebung stehen geblieben sind, wird
(lies am deutlichsten zeigen : niederdeiifsch « schlapp » entspricht hoch-
dentschem « sohla/f »; englisch ^ound = Pfund, help = hel/'en-Je nach der
Steliung ini Wort wird germanisches p im Hochdeutschen aiso zu ff,f odev
pf. Àhnlich geht es nnit den anderen Konsonanten ; man vergleiche nieder-
deutsch. Tid (» Ut mine Stromad >.), engliseh tide mit deutsch Zait. den
niederlând. Ortsnamen Bnigge mit Br'ùcke, englisch eat mit es^en, usw. Die
Beispiele sind Jeicht zu verinehren, wenn man entsprechende Wôrter ans
beiden Sprachen nebeneinander stellt. Mit der « zweiten Lautverschiebung »
sind die Verânderungen, denen der Konsonantenbestand der deutschen
Sprache iinterworfen war, in der Hauptsache aligoschlossen. Die nnn folgen-
den Perioden derselben werden durch Verandcrungen ini Vokalsystem gekenn-
zeichnet.
[Fortsetzung folgt.) D"" Feist (Berlin).
6. aïeule. — 1. qui sont affectées.
Sarah Bernhardt und Edison *.
Der Wagen rollte noch ein wenig weiter und wir fanden uns vor dem
Hausdes beriihmten Thomas Edison.
Eine Gruppe von Personen erwartete unsunter der Véranda. Yier Her-
ren, zvvci Damen und ein junges Madchen.
Das llerz pochte mir : wer von diesen Mannern mochte Edison sein ?
Ich hatte seine Photographie nicht gesehen und hegteeine tief'e Hewunde-
rung fur diesen genialen Kopf.
Ich sprang vom Wagen herab. Das blendendeelektrische Lichtgab uns
die Illusion des hellen ïages. Ich nahin den Straul^, den mir Frau Edison
darbot, und indem ich ihr dankle, versuchte ich unter diesen Miinnern
den groCien iVIann zu entdecken. Aile vier waren mir entgegengetreten,
allein einer von ihnen errôtete ieicht und sein blaues Auge dri'ickte eine
80 angstvolle Langweile aus, daf^ ich in ihm Edison errict.
Ich wurde selbst verwirrt und verlegen, denn ich (iihlte wolil, dal"^
ich diesen Mann stôrle. In meinem Besuche sali er weiter nichls als die
alltagliche Neugierde einer reklametrunkenen Fremden. Er ahnte sehon
im vorausdie " interviews % am niichsten ïage,diealbernen Bemerkun-
gen, die man ihm in den Mund legen wiirde. Im voraus schmerzten ihn
die unwissenden Fragen, die ich an ihn stellen vviirde, die Erkiarungen,
die er mir aus Hôflichkeit erteilen mûiite, und eine Minute lang i^afite
Thomas Edison Unwillen gegen mich.
Sein wunderschônes blaues Auge, das noch lichtvoller war als seine
Gliïhlampen, lieb ujich allesei[:e (iedanken lesen. Da sah ich ein, daft es
galt ihn zu gewinnen ; und mein kampflustiger (ieist bot aile lockenden
Kriifte auf den entziickendcn schùchternen Gelehrten zu besiegen.
Ich bemiihte michdergestalt, dab wir eine Haibstundespiiter die besten
Freunde von der Welt waren. Ich foigte ihm tlinken Schriltes, kletlerte
Siehe die vier andern Telle.
[247] DEUTSCHER TEIL 47
Trepjien hiiiauf, die sclimal undsteil wie Leiteni wareii, and schritt ûber
Briicken, die iiber Fetierschliinden hingeii : er erivlarte mir ailes. Ich
verstand ailes uiid bewunderte ihii immer mehr, denn dieser Fiïrst des
Lichteswar schliclit uiid reizetid. Wahreiid wir uns beideiïberdie leichte,
schwanke Brùcke beugten, iiber den schreckliclien Abgrund,in dcm sich
ungeheure, von breiten Riemen uiiilafile Rjidei- drehten und wandten und
knarrten, liefter mit heller Stiinnieverschiedene Kominandorufe erschal-
len und von allen Seiten strômte das Licht hervor, bald in knisternden
grûnlichen Funken, bald in raschen 131itzen,zuweilen in Schlangenlinien,
tlammenden Biichen zu vergleiclien.
Ich blickte diesen Mann von mittlererGrôC^e, mit einem etwas starken
Kopf'e, mit dem so edlen Protil an und dachte an Napoléon I. Gewii'^
bestelîtzwischen den beiden Mannern eine grofie physische Âlinlichkeit,
und ich bin sicher, daf^ man in ihrem Gehirn ein iihidiches Fach tinden
Nvûrde. Selbstverstandlich ihr Génie vei'gleiche ich nicht : der eine war
ein Zerstôrer, der andere ist ein Schôpfer. Obgleich ich aberdie Schlach-
ten verabscheue, liebe ich doch leidenschaftlich die Siège, und trotz
seiner Fehlerhabe ich jenem Gott des Iodes und des Ruhmes — Napo-
léon — in meinem Herzen einen Altar errichtel. Ich blickte also Edison
trâumerisch an, sein Rild mit dem des grol-ien Toten vergleichend.
Der betàul)ende Liirm der Maschinen, die blendende Schnelligkeit des
l.ichtwechsels, ail das machte mich schwindlig: ich vergal'^, \\o ich war
und stiitzte mich auf die leichte Brùstung, die michvom Abgrund trennte,
in solcherUnkenntnis derGefahr, daft Edison, bevor ich mich von mei-
ner Ùberraschung erholt batte, mich in ein naheliegendes Zimmer gezo-
gen und in einen Lehnstuhl gesetzt hatte, ohne daiuch mich dessen im
geringsten eiinnerte. Ererzahltemir kurz darauf',dafi ich einen Schwindel-
anlall bekommen halle. Sarah Bernhardt.
*^riit5 ®ot^^f(ï) nnh ôrtê ^•tfd)crmrt&dictt»
III
SBcnige %aa^t, nacfibeiii ftcf) bicâ ^ugetuagcn hatte, \vaï tu bon ©tcibten unb
2)i3rfeL-n beê fianbeâ cjroBeu ^u&eï. -s^erolbe ' lutb 53oten ritten auf attcu ©traf^eu
uml)er uub nertuubeteu beni 5i}olfe : ber juui]c i^i-iuigêfoliu, ber uor Idngerer
3eit auf ber ^agb, mau luufjte nic^t tBot)iu, r)erfd)iuuubeu litar, fei tu ber
§auptftabt mieber aui^etommen. âiHlteict) luarb befauiit gcutad)t, ba^ er ftcf)
uuu aud) liermdt)ïcu uiolle, uub jtuar tu beu 5lrt, luie haù ©efe^ beê Saubeê eê
Dorfd)rteb.
'Jhtd) einem aïteu 33rauc^e - muf^teu bauu ndmlic^ bie fdjoufteu uub reic^fteu
9)Mbc^eu beê <^buigreid)S naà) ber .s^auptftabt tommen, etu ©d)iebSt3ertd)t ^
inu^te fieftimmeu, Uicld)c uou bicfen bie allerfd)onfte tntb jugleid) bte all_er=
retd)fte fei, uub utit biefer feierte bami ber ^^rittj nad) brei Za%tn feine
^od)3eit. 2)a gab eg uuu iiberatt, mo bie 33oteu t)iuïameu, eiuen groHeu j3arm.
3ebe§ DJtabc^eu, ba§ nur irgeubeiu ttieblid) ' 3laâd)eu ober ein ^l^aar ^iftffige ^
€ugen im <^opfe l)atte uub babei ()offartig« unb eitel "" tyar, l)ielt fic^ fiir ba§
aUerfc^bufte. 5ïber felbft bie .sôaMi,â)eu bad)teu bei fid), teiu DJÎeufd) fei \a
bollïommeu, unb anf^er eiuigeu tïeiueu <Sc^i3ut)eitSmangeIn feieu fie bocl) niet
fd)buer aUi aubère, bie jumr regefma^ige, aber fet)r langu^eitige (§efid)ter l)dtteu.
Uub bad)teu baâ uid)t bie 2:ôd}ter, fo bad]teu e§ bod) maudie it)rer SJti'itter.
2Sa§ aber beu 9îeid)tum betraf, fo uertaufteu bie .s;-)crreu a)dter, fo fd)uell eâ
nur giug, ibre i^dufer nub ©drteu uub 26alb uub ^^elb, um nur reid)e lîteiber
uub âaroffeu unb 3)ienerfcf)aft fiir tt)re Sloc^ter aujufc^affeu. Seun uatiirlid)
1. hérauts. — 2. usage. — 3. jury. — 4. mignon. —5. rusés, malins. — 6. orgueiUeuse.
— 1 . vaniteuse.
48 UEUTSGHER TKIL [248]
mu^te jcbe in bem ©djinucï, bcn fie tici biefem ^-efte trug, it)ren 9îeid)tum
ïiefunben.
S)er ïehte Zao, beë 5Jlonat5 luar at§ ber 5lermin be[timmt tDorben, tuo in ber
^auptftabt bie cjro^e {ye[tUd)teit ftattfinben foUte.
2}on Qllen biefeii 9teuic3Ïeitcn inar nun iii ber ftillen g^ifd)ert)iitte am 93iecr
nid)! bas geringfte Betoimt geluorben. $ffiie jollte aud) 311 ber einfamen ©egenb
bie ^unbe " bacon bringen !'3ubem l)atte (siôbetl) in ben lehten uierjeïin !îagen
nur fo t)iel S^ifdjc gefangeii, luie fie nnb ber 5^ater ^n i[)rem Unterl}aït
beburften, unb baï]er nid)tS nac^ ber ©tabt getn-ad)t. ^aû luar aber fetir
traurig ; benn il)r bifjdjen ©e(b mar faft jnr Dîeige'-'.^a fiel bem llcabd)en bie
îoftbare (SoIbfifd)l)aut ein, bie fie in i^rer .^ifte batte, unb ba§ mac^te it)r
tDieber nene ^offnung.
(ï§ tiiar gerabe ber 5lbenb nor bem Ce^ten beô ^3îonatê, aie fie i^ren 9>ater
bat, er foUe fie auf ein paar Xage nad) ber ©tabt geben laffen, um eintge
(Snnïdufe ju mac^en, benn baf^ eô mit bem ©elbe fo fd)Ied)t ftaub, luottte fie bem
armen 93îann nod) nid)t fagen, um it)m nidit jetit fd)on âummer ,yi mad)en.
©ern gab ber inrter i()rer 9?itte nac^. ÎCie freute fid) (vlSbetl), ti^enn fie baran
bad)te, Uneniel gi^enbe fie ibni mit bem ©elbe macf)en ti3nntc, baô fie fiir bie
©(^uppenf)aut beïommen luiirbe.
^riil) am anbern DJÎorgen na()m fie il)r i\orbd)cn, ïegte tieimlid) bic3i^unber=
baut Ijinein, berfte iljr Xiid)eïd)en '" bariiber unb begab fid) auf ben 2Ceg jur
©tabt.
Sauge Unir fie nur eiufamc ÏCege burd) Sanb unb ®iinen unb .^eibc
gcgangen, al'j fie aber auf bie gro^e Ôanbftrafîe tam, imir e^j mit ber Stillc unb
ëinfamfeit ooriiber". ©Ian,^enbe ©taatylDagen'- mitiUirrcitern' ' unb 2?cbicnten
binten unb t)oru raffelten an ibr noriiber, unb in bon îi>agen faf]en geput^tc
Sfungfrauen, mit ®amt unb (geibe unb J-ebern unb 2d)mud bcbedt, bie redtcn
bie §alfe in bie Suft lui e bie ^^fauen, Uicnn fie ein 9tab fd)lagen'\ 9.lki fie
l)inful)ren unb nuiS fie fiir (Scbanîen im ©inn t)attcn, ïiif^t fidi leicbt erraten.
S)er prad)tigfte ÏOagen aber tam gan,^ jnlebt. 5ld)t (2d)immel, fo meif^ inie
2CeUenfd)aum' ',,3ogen il)n in Dodem ©aIopp,fie l)atten mcergriineS ©cfd)irr"' unb
(2d)ilfbiifd)cl'' auf ben <Kbpfen.S)ie ®ame, bicinber-Uutfdic faf3,lriar cbenfallê
\vc\\i unb meergriin geïleibct, unb fab Jinar nid)t fd)on, aber fel)r ftoï,^ unb
lunuberlid)"* au§. 2)ie ^ntfd^e tuar non burd)fid)tigcm iïriftall unb mit éeetulpen
unb ©d)itfbïattcrn beïrdnjt.
(ïïâbetf) lirnr gan^ in Stauncu Derfunten, luie fie ben bli^enben 2Bagenfd)on
Don uieitem babcrrotlen fal). ©ie mertte bariiber gar nid)t, baf? if)r'baâitbrbd)eu
nom 'Xrme rutfd)te, unb fein 3ïnt)ntt.auf bcn 3Beg fiel, ^ni^cm unir and) ber
2ï!iagen fd)on ba, unb ,vigleicb fiel ein ©onncnftral)! auf bie Sd)uppent)aut, bafj
fie lielt aufblibte. — 2Bie burd) einen ;^auberfd)Iag ftanben bie 9îoffe ftill, ba
rief bie ftolje ^fungfran an§ bem SJGagen mit lauttlingenber ©timme :
,,53lein ©igentum am $8obcn bort !
Me'm ;^aubcïfteiiiob, bie ^^c^uppenljaut !
5luf ! èilfeetîc^tean, unb bring' fie mit !"
Unb ein filberner ©d]lDan, H)eld)er auf ber S)ede ber ;^utfd)e bagefeffen ï)atte,
aïs tmr' cr nur non totem 53îetall, ï)ob feine Slitgel, fd)of5 nom 2Bagen bei'nnter,
ergriff bie iyif(^t)ant mit feincm (Sd)nabc( unb lie^ fie feiner ©ebieterin burd)
bie Ôffnung be§ SBageitS auf ben ©d)of3 finten. ÇTann fd)inang cr fid) inieber
auf bie âiitfd)enbede, unirbc ftarr unb fteif une i)ort)in, unb im ilhi ''•' roUte ber
SSagen baoon.
(Ofortfe^uiuj folgt.) 9îeinid.
(©ejc^ic^ten iinb Sieber fiir bie ^ugenb.)
8. nouvelle. — D. était presque épuisé. — 10. mouchoir. —11. fertig. — 12. voitures de
gala. — 13. piqueurs. — 14. font la roue. — 15. écume des vagues. — 16. harnais. — 17.
houppes de roseaux. — 18. étrange. — 19. en un clin d'œil.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 7. 5 Janvier 1908. 8« Année.
DEUTSCHER TEIL
^cr ^onid iv'uxti !
Sic §erobeê=SpieIe finb in unferen Sagen bergeffen, unb t:^re îîac^bilbungen ', bie
ïiinftUc^eu, gebicf)tcten 2Bei()na(^t§3l)ÏIen ,3ief)en \\\d)i'K S)en Sreifonigëfangern, bie mit
ifjrcm ©tern nur iiocf) l)ier unb ha beflnmiereiib imb fingenb Don §auë ju S^q.v.%
3te{)cn, fi^t bie Cbrigfeif' auf ben t^erien, unb luicf) bie fonfi om (i. ^anuar gepflegten
Svauc^e finb ,5umf ift in 3]ergeffcnt]eit geraten. 2Ûd abcr nod) ®reifonigcfaI,5, S)rcif6nigé=
maffer, Sreifonigèraud^ unb berglcicfieu v5ûcf)en befanut finb, ha weife mau nicfit, liiol)er
if)r Urfpruug, bringt fie uio()( mit ben f)eiligen brei ,Sîbuigen in 3itït^i"ittf"f)ana unb
Dergifet gang, baf; ber Sreitonigétag im altgcrmanifc^eu .s^-)eibeutum uiurgett '-^ unb
tebiglidE) -"^ bie d^riftianifievte ^yeier beô le^teu Sages ber fcf)auerli(î)enG 3luoIfteu ' ift.
3in biefer '^ni jog ÏÔobnn'' an ber ©pi^e beê uiiitenbeu .*peereê'' liber 93erg unb îal,
ûu feiner Seite bie ©iJtterfonigin Serc^ta "^. Salb mit bem untben .Ç>eer alô 'iSaïanbiune ",
balb §auô unb g^tur reidfilii^en ©egen fpenbenb. 5Us ber ©bttin ber ^^ruc^tbnrfeit
bra(^te man it)r unter anberem alô Sauf einen -Ëiicfien bar, in ben haf:> ©i]mbot ber
O^ruc^tbarfeit, eine 23ol)ne, eingebacfen inar.
23of)nen be3ief)ungêtt)eife iSofjuenfpeife ben ®ottt)eiten gu tceifjeu, ift allerbingê fein
urgermauif(^er ffiraui^. ®er romifrfien ©ottin (Jarna, bie aiïeê 2Bac^§tum (aud) bie
©efunb^eit unb ha^j Ceben ber lîinber) forberte, opferte man SSo^nenbrei, mittirenb
gelegentticf) ber ïllatronaUen, eineê btofeen 3^rauenfefteë, ben SJlannern .Jîuc^en aw^j
SBoî)neumcf)I gum (Sefc^enf gema(ï)t murben.
®iefe unb aubère ^Çeiern ber romifcf)en ©aturimlien tuurben bur(ï) bie .$îof)orten iiber
bieStlpeu ï)inmeg na^ ©adieu uub tu baê 9tf)eintal oerpftaujt, auct) nac^ (fugïaub unb
in ha% 's3aub ber Satauer. ®a{)er erîldrt e§ fid), bafî bie 23of)nenfefte gerabe im norb=
tneftlidieu Êuropa feiuergeit en vo^'ue luaren. Ûber bie babei gepflegtcn 33raud)e ift
mertunirbigermeife erft in ber letiten ^t'û 9tuff(arung '- gegebeu morben.
Sefannttid) '-^ mirb beute nod) eigcnê ju biefem 3^efte ein fïut^cu gebacfen, in
beffeu 2eig eine 23o()ne uerfuetet luirb. Sei une ift ha^j ©ebcicî ein i)tapffud^eu
ober eine Sorte, in (îngtaub f)at ber tvvelflh-cake (■:ffuc^en beê gtnoifteu Sageê)
Idnglid)e ^yorm. 5(uâ bem lîuc^en Uierben fo Diel Seile f)ergefteltt, nïô 3^efttettnei)mer
liorf)anben finb. 2Bem ba§ ©tiicf mit ber 93of)ne guteit Uiirb, ift $8ot)nenfbuig ober
J8ol)neufbnigin, toa()(t fid) ben ^offtaat'^ uub empfdugt in ^umoriftifdieu Coatiouen
3al)lret(ï)e |)utbigungen. Sa nur in fetteueren 3^at(en geeiguete ,$îoftiime fiir bie Safel;
Tunbe befd)afft merbeu ïijunen, begniigt man fid) im aUgemcinen mit entfprec^enben
Jîopfbebecfungen unb ©mbïemen : ^ônig unb Jîouigin erf)alten bie dugereu ^ufilî'iien
ber ^cinigênnirbe, g^ptf^' unb ^rone, ber ÏÏJÎiuifter ba§ '^Portefeuille, ©enerale §elme ' ■,
^ammerfjerren ©d^Uiffel, ber ^elbmarfc^all ben 3^etb()errnftab, ber 3si'fiiionienmeifter
tnirb mit einer Sd^drpe gefd)mucît, bie |)ofbameu er^alteu ijdi^er, ber Çofnarr bie
©d^eûenfappe. Ser -iîo^ mirb mit ixieiBer DJUi^e unb einem ^olglôffel Pou mogIid}fter
1. imitations. — 2. Ija&eti teinen Êtfolg. — 3. l'autorité (la police). — 4. a ses racines.
— 5. ïilofe. — 6. terrible. — 7. 5Sie jtoijtf 'D'îai^te bon ÎBet'énac^ten ïii§ SïeiïiJnigentag. —
8. 2)er t)oi:^ftc ®ott. (Sr ift ber fïviegêgott unb ber ®ott beê ©eloitterê. —9. 2Bat)'vfc^einUc^
eine Sufterfdjeinung : ftreitenbe ober junt *ïampf auêjiel^enbe .fftteger. — 10. Serdjtn, fôôttin
be§ Sicl)t§. — 11. ïeufelin. — 12. renseigQemedts. — 13. SBie mon tueife. — 14. cour.
— 15. casques.
[37] ALI KM . 7
50 DEUTSCHER TEIL [290J
©rofee ûuêftûffieït unb mit eiiiem îattftocf ber ^offapettmeifter, bemi bev btuf nicï)t
fe^ten, ïjat er boiî} bie launigcn ©efdnge ttn,5u[timmen unb bit mit einem unglaublicfien
Slabau "' ouf aEen nur benïbaven^iit^engerdten ausgefiU)ite^nftrnmentaImuîiî,5u biri=
gicxen.
Saê fcfniiicrigftc 5Imt aber fcilït bcm DJhnibfcÊienî 511. ©r ()at fiir botte 33ed)ev 3U
forgea, unb bas ift nitfit leidjt, benn fobalb bei -ftonig feiu ©laê erf)ebt, ruft bie
3;afelrunbe : ,,®er:8bnigtrinft!" unb tut if)m23ef(ï)eib'''; uier bieâaber oeridumt'^ mirb
Oom f)ofnorren burd^ etnen îcf)Uiav3en Strid) im (Sc|"tcf}t gebranbmartt'". ®ie gefungenen
Sieber finb nidjt immer gebiegeuen -° ^niiahè, unb baè gab tt)of)I 3lnlaB ^ur ®ntftef)ung
ber befannten Stebenêart : ,,®aë ge^t nod) iibcrê $SoI]uenlieb !" ^a 33elgien bcuutît man
ben 33rau(^, um auê einem {yefte 3toet ju mac^en, unb fe^t baè non bem lîbnig 3U
fpenbenbe ©étage auf ben bem 6. S^inuar folgenben DJÎontag feft. 2Bo baê Stufftnbeu
bev 33of)ne nid)t 3U fontrotlierca ift, ïommt es ndturlid) aud) oor, bafe ber 3'-iuber fie
ftitl mitoerfdjludt, um ben {)o()en 3Iuêgiiben eineê Jeftf^ 3» entgct)eu. ,,®ie 33ofine ift
,,oergeffen" toorben!" l^etfet eê baun.
aCie gefagt, f}at baë $8Df)nenfeft in ^^ranfreic^, Ênglonb unb in ben Dheberlanben
feine -S^-ieiatat. î)HeberIdnbifc^e 2>otf'j= unb ©ittenmaler, mie ^ûu ©teen, -Sjalê,
SSrouUier, S'oïî^aenè unb aubère f)abeu une in etuer langereu 3^oIge luftiger ©cmcilbe
bie iiberfc^dumenbe "' 8uft biefcr S^amiliengelage gefd)ilbcrt. ^n (fnglanb, Uiofelbft bie
3[Ba^I eineé 23of)nenïbnigs im fed)3ct)aten 3a()r^unbert auf ben Uniocrfitdten ein Sraud)
beë 2ûeit)na{f)tcfefteô luar, pftegte man ;,ur 3fit i^er <$îbnigia ©lifabetf) eine i8of)ne fiir
ben .Sbuig unb eine grbfe fiir bie ^ouigiu in ben tweiftii-rake 3U baden.
3lm .Ç)ofe Cubaugê XIV. itntrbe ber 33of)nenfu(^en nur non S)amea gegeffeu. Sie
S3ol)nentbnigin genoB an biefem îage bie '3{eâ)ie einer uiirflic^en .(ïbnigin unb linirbe
t)om fiouig 3ur 2afel gefiil)rt. 6in intereffanter tiiftorifi^cr ^no, ift c5 jebenfallé, ba§
im 3a^ïe l''92 bie 5Jtad)tf)aber in ^>arië anorbneten, bafe baô ("yeft in la iV'le des
Sans-ciilottos umgetauft uierbcn fotte: feïbft in ber ©cftalt beo l)armIofen 58of)nen=
ïonigé ()af3ten fie bas ^onigctum.
Sd)on Uor meljreren 3af)i"3f()nten f)aben bie ^olttoriften bie '-Bermutung aus:
gefprodien, bag in bem mit anêgelaffcuer Cnft begangencu 23of)nenfeft ber Shic^ftang
einer fef)r ernften 3^eier ftcden miiffe, benn bie fdjaiar^e i-5ot)ne, burd) aield}e ber .ffbnig
geU)dl}(t luerbe, fei ein 2obe5fi)mboI, unb ,,ber $8of)ncnfi3uig fei ber Slepriifentant beô
geftorbenen 3af)reê", baé am 3lbenb oor ®rofeueujat)r (Sd)IuBtag ber 3ii'blften) 3U
©rabe getragen aierbe.
2er 93rauc^ bcQ Siufeâ: ,,3)er .ftbnig trinît!" ift aifo fel)r ait, unb bafe ber trinï=
fro^e $8ol)nentbnig nur in einem fef)r locferen 3iiiûiinnenf)ange mit ben brei ^bnigen
auQ bem ^Jlorgeutanbe fteï)t, leuc^tet eiu. ®er Segenbe nad) foUen allerbingê aud) biefe
auégerufen t)aben :,,®cr iîbnig trinft !" aie fie nad} ii3ctlUef)em gcfommea uuxrea unb
fatjeu, une baê iîinblein an ber ^JJiutter SSruft tag. @iu (itjronift anô bem fed)3ef)nten
3al)rl)uubert fd)reibt : ,,2Im Sage ber {)eitigen brei fibu ige gabeu fid) atïe guten .Uatf)Oî
lifen ber l'nftigîeit f)in unb riefen : //3)er lïbnig trinft!" Sanebeu oergeffen aber bie
anbercn aud) nid}t, if)re ^^^ftid)t 3U tun, unb maudjauil mel)r at'3 it)nen bienlid) ift."
llnb in einem ïïud^e : ,,gine iïGeIt ber 2Bunber" anè berfelbeu 3^'^ toirb non einem
©eiftlit^en er3dï)lt, ber am 3tbenb, aie ber 3îuf : ,,S)er ^îbnig trinft!" immer unb
iaimer aiieber crfd)oU, aud) fcinc 5d)utbigfcit getan unb ^mar in foIcï)em 5[RaBe, ba^
er am anbcren 5Jlorgen beim 5JteffeIefen einfd)Iief. 5lu<j bem Sd)Infe geriittelt, glaubte
fid^ ber frontate 50lann nod) an ber âbnigetafel unb briiltte 3uai ©ntfe^en ber ©emeinbe
mit 3)onnerftimme burc^ bie Stitle ber ^ird)e :
,,S}er ^onig trinft!"
G. ©c^enfling.
16. vacarme. — 17. fait raison. — 18. néglige, oublie. — 10. marquer, stigmatiser. —
20. wertvollen. — 21. débordante.
[291] DEUrSCHER TEIL ol
Mistelzweige.
Von C. ScilEXKLING.
Spuren dièses MisteIkuUes hahen sich bis heute erhalten. In Frankreich
wird am Neujahrslage die Mistel gesammelt, bei welcher Gelegenheit der Ruf:
« Au gui l'an neuf. » (Zur Mistel des neiien Jahres !) iiniinlerbrochen zu hôren
ist. Derselbe Ruf ist aber auch das Zeichen zum Einsammeln von Neu-
jahrsgeschenken.einverstïimmelter' undwahrscheinlich auch unverslandener
Ûberrest jener allheidnischon Gewohnheit, die Mistel selbst als kostbares,
wundertâtiges Geschenk der Gottheii anzusehen.
In Wales- wird zur Weihnachtszeit das Zimmer nnit Mistelzweigen reichlich
ausgeschmiickt; an Tiiren, Bildern, Spiegeln, kurz, \vo sich der Zweig leicht
befestigen laÊt, fehll er nicht ; sein Hauptplatzchen aber findet er am
Kronleuchter. Unter diesen fïihrt dann der Hausherr seine Gattin und
spricht seinen Gliickwunsch ans, der deni Fesle die Weihegibt. Und der
Mistelzweig vvirkt zu dieser Zeit dortlands^ auffallend zauberkraflig, gelingt es
ihm doch, die moderne englische Priiderie in den Bann zu tun*. Jedem
Freunde des Hauses — man will sogar, jedem Fremden, der an diesem
Abend in einer Famille weilt — ist es namlich gestattet, von der Hausfrau
odei- den Tochtcrn des Hauses einen Ku6 zu heischen, sobald er den Damen
unter dem Mistelzweige begegnel. Auf dem Lande werden die Mislelzweige
am Weihnachtsabend unter das Dach gehangt. Dahin tùhren die Burschen
die Madchen und wiinschen ihnen, gewili nicht ohne Kuli und Umarniung,
frôhliche Weihnacht und gli'ickliches Neujahr. Selbslverstandlich steht auch
dieser Brauch mit allheidnischen Vorstellungen in ursachlichem Zusammen-
hange"'.
An der Wunderkraft der Mistel, an deren Glauben auch die Dniiden das
Ihrige beigetragen haben môgen «, hielt man lange in Deutschland und
Ôsterreich test, und selbst bis auf den heutigen Tag ist dieser Glaube nicht
ganz erloschen. Da das Gewachs auf dem entlaubten Baume selbst im
strengsten Frost griin bleibt, sah man in ihm ein Wesen, das allem Trotz zu
bieten'' vermoge, und vveil die Pflanze auf lîaumen vegetiert, nannte man sie
den Mahr (Alp)^ des Baumes und glaubte, sie wiichse nur auf den Âsten, auf
welchen der Nachtmahr geritten. Im Osterreichischen verschafîten die
regelmafsig gekreuzten Aste dem Schmarotzer den Namen « heiliges Holz»,
nnd gerade wegen dieser Eigentumlichkeit riihmt ihm heute noch die ganze
Landbevôlkerung besondere Krafte nach, besonders gegen die Fallsucht^.
Auch aïs Wi;inschelrute "^ erfreute sich die Mistel hoher Achtung. Mittels
derselben konnte manDiebe festbannen ", alleSchlôsser sprengen und Schiitze
heben. Im preufiischen Samland '- wird z. !>. erzahlt, dafizwei Mânnerdurch
einen auf einem llaseibusch schmarotzenden Mistelbusch auf den im Wur-
zelwerk des Strauches verborgenen Schatz aufmerksam wurden. Sie hoben
denselben, konnten sich aber des Zaubergoldes nicht lange erfreuen, denn
genau nach Jahresfrist slarben sie.
Die alten Krauterbiicher bemessen den Wert der Mistel, je nachdem sie auf
einer Pappel, Ulme, einem Birnbaum, einer Riche oder Hasel wuchs. Da der
Haselstrauch nur in selteneren Fàllen als Wirt dient, gelten seine Mistel-
bùsche als die geschatztesten. Pfluckt man die Mistel, so soll es nach der
Weise der Druiden geschehen. Auch soll sie nur im August, « wenn die Sonne
im Lôwen geht », oder zwischen zwei Frauentagen gesammelt werden; steht
1. déformé. — 2. pays de Galles. — 3. in diesem Lande. — 4. chasser. — S. relation
de cause à effet. — 6. ont pu contribuer. — 7. défier. — 8. incube. — 9. épilepsie. —
10. baguette magique. — 11. arrêter. — 12. dans la Prusse orientale.
UEUTSCHER TEIL [292]
die Sonne iin Schiitzen '^ so nnift sie drei Tage vor Neninond vom Haiime
herab geschossen und mit der linken Ffand aufgefangon werden.
In nnsei'er poesielosen Zeit ist diesom einst gcwcihten und geheiligten
Busch sein Glorienschein '^ verloren gegangen ; seinen Zauherkriiften verlraut
man iiicht mehr und eraclilet ihn nur fi'ir hôchst prosaische Sachen geeignct
— znr lîereitung des sogenannten Verbenalôles '•• und des hàfilichen, stinken-
den Vogelleims "\
[Schlufi.)
\3.so(iittaire. — 14. auréole. — 13. hvile de verveine. — 16. ijIk.
Auf eine hollandische Landschaft *.
Miide schleichen hier die Rache,
Nictit ein Luflchen hôrst du wallen,
Die enlfarblen Blatter fallen
Slill zu Grund, vor Allersschwache.
Krahen,kaumdieSch\vingenregend,
Strcictieii langsani ; dort am Hiigel
\A (j t d ie Wi n d m ù h 1 ' ruh n d i e FI li gel ;
Ach, vvie schlafrig ist die Gegend !-
Lenz und Sommer sind verflogen ;
Dort das Hiiltlein, ob es trulze',
Blickt nichl aus, die Strohkapulze
Tief ins Aug' herabgezogen.
Schliimmernd, oder trage sinncnd,
Rubtder Hirl bei seinen SciiiiCen,
Die Nalnr, Ilerl)stnebel spinnend,
Sclieint am Hocken eingcschlafon.
Lenau.
* Siehe Hie Ûberselziing im frauzosischen Teil.
1. boudait.
Feriengedanken,
von E.-T. SCHILSKV
Es war ein ganz eigen Gefùhl der Wonne, mit dem icli im Zuge stand
und die voriiber eilende Landschaft ansah; fiïhlte ich niich docii mit
jedeni Drehen der Râder der (jrolistadt ferner !
Frei vom lâstigen Zwange geselischaitlicher PIlichten ; es nahte sich
die selige Zeit, \vo man ohne Hut und Handschuhe die herrliche Natur
dnrchwandern konnte. Nicht wiirde das Ohr mehr vom Liiimen der
Groi'^stadt zerrissen sein ; i'ern Ijleibt das tieberhafte Treiben der Orte,
welche ihre Einwohner nach Hiinderttausenden ziihlen ! Allerdings
Tiieater und Konzerte wiirde man vermissen, aber desto mehr hatte
man im Winter darin geschwelgt und wiirde voraussichtiich wieder im
nâchsten Winter geniefien, und dieser Gedankeerhôhte noch die frendige
Ferienstimmung !
Làngst lag Miinchen hinter uns, und weiter ging's durch Berge und
Tàler, an malerischen Dôrfern vorbei, immer nâher, immer ntiher dem
[2931
DEUTSCHKK IKIL
53
erseliiiteii Ziele. Tiiol ! Kursteiri, die Grenze t Hier wurde allerdings die
Stimniiing etwas dui-ch die Zollalirei'tipuni; des Gepiicks beeintrâchtigt,
welche sehr lang daiierte, iiiui mit alleriiand Schwierigkeiten veri)unden
war. Aber der MilMiiiit verflog wieder als nian von Innsbruck ans in einem
gerniitlichen Personenziige bei slrahletidstem Sonnenscheiti vollauf
Mufîe batte, die Scliôiiheiten des Bi-ernieipasses ziir Genûge zu bewiin-
dei'ii ! Gossensass, Sterzing, i^reienreld wareii voriiber... Jelzt miift das
erselinte Ziel bald konimen. l']iiie (M'achtige Biii-g, Welfenstein, liegt auf
waldigein Hiigel. tiel' unten ein lieljlich Gebiriistlùftciien, der Eisack.
^■Sv^l^Bu^l^^H^mH^I^^^^ jht ^'•«i^^^iif „
W'i:
m^^V ^ . Pï^mm
'^- .--IRI^'
i^na
^H ■«Hi ,^.-*K:JiP(«|*=^-«^--
Gossensass in Tirol.
iVJaiils! Das Ziel ist da ! Er ist erreicht, der Ort, weleher uns fur einige
Wochen als Wohnort dienen soll.
Maleriscb liegt das Nestchen ani Fuf^e bewaldeter Berge und starrer
Felsen, inniitten grùner Wiesen. durcli die sicii zahlreiche murmelnde
Biichlein schlangeln. In der Ferne ragen die Eisniassen des Nebeltaler
Gletschers slolzin den IjJauen Àther eiiii)or.
Ein lieblich Fleckchen znin Riihen, Dichlen und 'l'raumen ! Und nun
gar der einfache Eandgasthof mit seinen grofien Zimmerii, breiten,
luftigen Gangen und allen iViobeln ! Und die l'reundiichen Tirolcr Wirte,
die vorziigliche Yerptlegnng, die liel)ens\viirdige Bedieniing! Der breite
Balkoii, aufdem man jeden Nachmittag in herriicher Ruhe lesen nnd
schreiben kann, \vo das Ange durcli schône Aussiclit und bnnte Blumen,
die so wunderbar dnften, erlVeut wird, nnd wo das Ohr vom lustigen
Platschern eines Irischen Briinnleins eiquickt vvird. Neue Eindriicke,
nene Frenden, das kann man von Manls mit gntem Gewissen sagen !
Und die Dort'stiafie mit ihren eigenartigen Giebelhaiisern, mit ihren
von buntfarbigen Bhimen umrankten Fensterchen, das ailes gibt ein
iiuÊerst malerisches Bild, dessen làndlicber Keiz noeli durch den frisclien
Brunnen, die lieblichen Dorfkinder, echte Tiroler Kinder, blond, braun
Oi DEKTSCHBR lElL [294]
iind schvvarz, und diirch kriiftig wohlgenàhrtes Vieli,das sicli dein Brunnen
nàhert, noch erhôht wird.
Und ich gebe mich ganz den Wonnen des herrlichen Tirol hiii und
dem Gedanken, dafi mir noch mindestens sechs Wochen vergônnt sind,
die Schônheit und vor allem die Freiheit zu geniel'^en !
Mauls in Tirol (.hili 1907).
%(V ®ciîi(ïc *.
„3f(^ UttGlûcflic^er !" ïlagte etn ©eijïjalô feinem 9îa(^t)ar, „man ^at mir ben
©dÊût;, ben id) in meinem ©arten oergraben tiatte, biefe 5îad)t entluenbct unb
einen tierbammten ©tein an bejfen ©telle t3elcgt."
„%\i tuiirbeft," antraortetc \\)\\\ ber 3iad)bar, „beinen ©diat^ bod) nid)t genn^t
^nben. 23ilbe bir aifo ein, ein ©tein fci bein ©djalj, unb bn bift nid)tâ iirmer."
„2Bare \à) aud) |d)on nic^to armer," ermiberte ber ©eijfiatê ; „ift ein anberer
nid)t um fo uicl reii^er? @in anberer nm fo Diet reid)er ! ^d) mod)te rafenb
Werben." ^--'eiUiig.
©ie'^e bte Oier anbevn leite.
''^v'un @o(^ftfd) xxn'b i>aê ^ifd)crmaî»d|ctt.
IV
®l'jbett) umfete nid)t, mie il)r gefd)al). ©taunen', (Sd)red unb Slrauer iiber
ben Derlorenen ©d)a^, auf beffen î^ertauf [ie aûe if)re .<poffnung gefet^t, alle§
ha^ bcmegte fie fo, baf^ fie gar nid)t muf^te, ma§ fie nun tun folle. @ie fctîte
fld) auf baô ©eldnber- ber 23ritde, legte ben -Ûopf in bie .V)anb, fann unb fann
unb fd)Iief enblid) nor HUibigteit ein.
%U fie ermad)te, mar eâ fc^ou fpitt am ^Ibcnb unb bie ©onnc am lliiter=
gel)en. ©ie rieb ^ fid) bie 3lugen, ba fa^ fie, mie neben il)r auf bemfelben
©eltinbcr ein fïein imnjig Hîanntein fafî, grau unb rnnjlig*, aber freuiiblid)
unb mauierlid)". ^ae "ilJtdunlein lien fiil) balb mit il)r in ein ©cfprdd) ein,
erjablte ibr allerlci non bem Jefte in ber §auptftabt unb fragte fie ,]ulelU, ob
fie beiin nid)t aud) fid) bem ^^-^rinjeu molle norftellen laffen. 1)a'j fam bem armen
^5^ifd)erîinb bod) gar ^u tomifd) uor, fie lad)te laut auf unb fprad) im ©c^erg :
„2Barum beun nid)t? ^ah' id) boc^ ein ©efic^t brann mie bie ©eeflunber '', unb
bin id) bod) fo reid) mie bie ^ircf)enmau§ ; ba îannft bu mid) immer fd)on
binfiibren !" — ©aô 'llîannd)en ïiii^elte unb ftrid) fid) mit fd)lauem93lidfeinen
langen meif^en 23art ; bann erjabïte e^. eô mdre ein ftubierter Softor unb
tonne 33linbe febenb mad)en. (slêbetl) bad)te a\\ it)ren armen 5i)ater unb fragte
bod) erfreut, ma§ eê toften folle, menu ba§ SJlannIein il)m fein -^lugenlid)t
miebergdbe V — „§m !" fprad) jener unb fd)iittelte ben <^topf, „bu fagft, bu bift
arm mie eine ^ird)eninan§. 3lber bie ^irci)enmau'j bat tein fo fd)mar,^eê .s^aar
unb teine fo meif^en Sa[)\\t mie h\\, baê tann id) beibeô gebraud)en. ©ibft bu
mir beine brei oorbereu ^^bne unb Idfet bn bir Don mir bie .s^aare imm Aïopfe
fc^eren, fo mad)e id) beineu Îi3ater gefunb." — 2)a§ 9Jidbd)en ging ooller ^rcube
1. stupéfaclion. — 2. [larapet. — 3. frotta. — 4. ridé. — 5. fetii. — 6. turbot.
[295] DEUTSCllER TtilL 55
aiif ben s^aubet ein. Jlun aber noc^ einS," fpraiï) haè 9JldnnIeiii, „unr muifeii
jeW nncf) ber ©tabt, ic^ um meine Salbeir iiiib ^rauter 511 (lotcn, bu iim bir bac
§Qar a6)'d)nciben iinb bte ^^^ne aiiôbrerf)en jit ïaffen ; beiiii mir bort fonn bûS
gefd)et]en !" Uiib (Slobett) Wav and) bajii bereit, t)atte fie ja bod) ^pofïniing, ba^
\t}ï bltnber iluiteu fclienb unirbe.
dlim fûbrte ber 3)oftoi- fie auf einem SiiB^ueg in ben 2Balb ; benn bort, fagte
er, ïiecje im gluffe ein ©cfiifflein, nnb ba§ tonne fie fd)on in einer ©tunbe nad)
ber ©tûbt bringen, md()renb fie anf ber Sanbftrafee Diel Icingere 3eit jn geben
{)dtten.
@rft irnu- ber gnBfteig bequem, bann aber 50g er fid) bnrd) nnlDegfameg
©idic^t** nnter ûtten 5Bdnmen t)in, bnrd) beren buntle îlMpfcI faft tein ?tbenb=
fd)immer bringen tonnte. SïBeiBe ©pinniueben ,^ogen fic^ barin libérait oon
a3ufi^ 5U 58nfi^ unb tegten fic^ bem 'D3ldbd)en, iubem fie burd)fd)liipfen tDoltte,
nm -S^oanb unb ©cfid)t, um if)r roteê DJlieber' unb um ibi' blaueâ 9î5dd)en.
®ï§betl) inoUte fid) baô garftige "' ©efpinft abftreifen, aber baê Ftdnntein fprad) :
,,2a% ïein, Infe îein !
Jîeine Seibe jo fein,
Sein ©d)leicr io \à)'6n,
2Strft icl]n ! aSirft ief)n !"
S)a tiefe fii^ ha^i 2)îdbd)en benn ruinguon ben ©eioeben umfpinnen. — ®arauf
fiet ein tiit)[er îlbenbtau in gro^en SIropfen uon ben 93Idttern ber igdume, bie
i)ingen fic^ an i()ren ^adm unb an ben §alê nnb in bie -lîteiber. ®lëbetf) luoUte
fie fid) abfd)iitte(n, aber haè 9Jldnntein rief :
,,SaB fein, la]] jein !
.ytein ^erlenïci)ein,
.•Rein (vbelftcin
6r9ldn3t jo fein !"
Unb haè DJÎdbd)en lie^ bie 2;ropfen rut)ig ()dngen. — S^arauf tamen fie an ein
îteines ^ffidfjertein, bao fpi'ilte bem 9Jidbd)en liber bie nadten Si'tfee. ®ie tt)oUte
haQ SBaffer abfd)iitteln, aber baâ ÎJcdnnlein rief:
,,£afe in ;]{nf)', \a^ in Jïuï)'
S)ie fitbernen (Scî)ul)' !"
Unb mrfttc^ QÏiiuste baé ÎOaffer an ibren 3iif3d)en, aie t)dtte fie ®c^u^e unb
©triimpfc^en ans ©ilbertaft an.
Ênblid) gelangten fie jum ^tuf^, auf bem eine ©onbet Iag.5(m Ufer luar baê
2Baffer gtatt unb ftill, unb 5ir)ifd)en tteinen aBafferbtiimd)en ftimmerten barin
fo t)elt bie ©terne ; eê fat) auê, atâ ludren fie nid)t ber SBiberfc^ein beâ .§im=
meta, fonbern aie raiegten unb fc^aufelten fie fid) wirttid) in ber gtut.
33on bem tDeiten ÏOege unb bem lanen ©ommerabenbe gtûl)ten ber ©lêbett)
red)t it)re 33aden. @ie tlagte eô bem ^Jtdnnteiu, ba§ riet itir, ben lïopf breimat
inô 2Caffer jn taud)en, bao n^iirbe il)r 's.^abung bringen. Unb tt)ie fie e^j tat unb
ben i^ûpf 5um britteumat beranfjog, mar ey it)r, at§ ludren bie tteinen 2Baffer=
bliimd)en it)r im .s^aare bdugen geblieben, unb ato teud)te ti)r ein beUer ©c^ein
um ben âopf. ÎBieber fut)r fie mit ber -s^anb bat)in, um baô, luaô ha wax,
abjnftreifen, aber ba§ ÎJÎdnntein rief:
,,§alt ein ! ^alt ein 1
®rf)au nur ï)inein
^në SBûjfer brein.
3et5t ï)ift bn fein!"
Unb irie ®têbet{) in ben ÏGafferfpiegef t)inunterfc^aute, fat) fie fid) fetber, aber
gejiert mit einem ©dimnde, mie fein ©olb ibn ertaufen tann. ®ie feinften
iuei^en ©d)teier, beftreut mit ftral)Ienben ^:|3erten unb ©betfteinen, umloanben
7. onauents. — 8. fourré. — 9. corsage. — 10. vilain.
56 OKUTSCHEK Ttll. r296i
ilncn fc^dinîcn Seib, ein ^xan^ uon tunfeïnbeu Sternen, bie jtDifiïien jarten
3[Baf)er=9tanunteïd)en ifire ©trafiïcn l)ert)orbred)eii ïieBen, itmgab ilir îd)oneô
biuitleè .spanr ; iinb um ben ©d^miicf 511 nodenben, tamen nod) ein paax ^i^eiic^t:
tati^'i"(ï)en aiu3ef(ogen, fcMcii fid] i()r an bie beiben Cbrltippc^en iinb blieben
baran bangen, alo indren eo foftbarc D()rbudeln.
'3Jcit ftiUcm Sad)etn betrad)tete Sli5bet() ibr Spiegeïbilb im SBafîer. „(îi, raie
feb' iâ) biibfc^ auê I" rief fie in finblid)er {yreube, „t)att' id) bo(^ nie gebad)t,
ha\>, id) fo anSfeben ïônnte !" — ®o(^ baô DJÎannlcin trieb ,^nr @i(e. 3Ud)\ Ieid)t
tnarb eê bem SJcûbdien, fic^ uon bem 23i(be im 2Baifcu jn trennen, bennod) folçjte
fie feinem 9hife uiib beftieg mit ibm bie ©onbeï.
2)iefe trieb ben {y(u^ entlang, nnb aie fie bcibc nnn fo ftiU bat)infubrcn, nnb
Slybetï) immer unb immer iineber in ber Q^lut neben fid) i[}r ©piegeïbiïb
flimmern faî), nnb aie il)r babei bèx ©ebanfe tant, ba^ ûUe ber Sd)mud, ber fie
jierte, bod) nnr fiir ben Slngenbtid fei, nnb baf^ fie obenbrein" if)r fdiinarjeo
.s;^ûûr nnb ibre blanfen S'^\t)\\c bei'flcben foUte, bu fintg eê benn bod) on, i()r
fd)Uier onfê ^erj jn brnden, benn and) ©d;bnbeit ift ein ©ut, baS luobl teiner,
ber eô {}at, gern nerïieren mog.
Xa§ 93tann(ein fat), luie bem 'ill(dbd)en gan,^ teife ein Srdntein iiber bie
3Bange roUte. „(St§betf}," fprad) er, „nod) ift eo 3eit. ÎOenn bn raiUft, tebren
uiir nm, nnb id) bring' bid) luiebcr ,yi beiner §iitte ! 2)ann bebcittft bn bein
.s>aar unb beine 3iif)"t nnb aile ben Sd)mud, ben bn jebt an bir t)aft. — ?(ber
bein '-l>ater bleibt bann freitid) btinb 1" — „l)iein," rief (âtèbett), „nimm mir
atlec>, nimm mir mein Seben, nur mari)e meinen 9)atcr luieber gefnnb!" —
(2d)on t)ob fie meber bie §anb, nm ben feïtenen ^-|^n^ t)on fid) abjnftreifen, aber
ber -Pleine liefe e§ nid)t ,')U, unb nnr mit ïliiibe gelang e§ it)m, fie ju berubigen.
^nbeSmaren fie auf bem î}(nf] biS in bie -sôanptftabt nnb in bie tbniglid)eu
©drten bincingetommen, uio ebcn mit grof^er 5eft[id)feit bie .ôod)yitoiiia()l
einer ^^-^rin^^effin gefeiert umrbe. igod) i'iber ibren -Ubpfen fab (Jlobetb ben
'-iUibcrfd)cin ber ^^adeln unb g^euerbeden, fie ^orte ^(dnge einer raufd)enben
'lliufit uub ha<ô ©efnmme einer grofjen U)oïf5men'ge, aber bie f)of)en 9}ianern,
^jUnfdjcn bcnen ber {ytnf? binfuf)rte, ïiefîen fie nid)t'j non bem g^efte fcibft
Umbrnebmen.
(ynblid) lanbeten fie an cinem -sMigcl. Sie tuatcn au§ ber ©onbel unb
beftiegen ben ©ipfel be'3 i^iigelS, ber non einer bic^ten ^orbeerf)ede nmgeben
mar. ^ort oben bog ba'j^Jtcinntein einen Sorbeer^^nicigjnriid nnb fprad) ju bem
"lltdbi^en : „-'pier fil^an' binunter !" — 2)a fab Siybetb bid)t '- nor ibren (yiifeen
ein ©d)anfpiel ber ^4-^rad)t nnb -sôerrïid)feit, mie fie eo nie ^nftor getrdumt batte,
(g^oi-tfctjiing fobjt.: 9ieinid.
(®cid^tcl)tcn unb îi'icbcv fiir bie ;^uH'5''"t'-l
11. par-de:<sus le marché. — 12. ganj naT)e.
Ràtsel*.
2.
Ich mâche liart. ich mâche weich,
Ich mâche ui'iii, ich macho reich.
Man Heht mich, doch iiicht allzuiiah ;
Zii nah wird ailes von nur auiiiezehrt,
Und ailes sllrbt, \vo man mich ganz entbehrt.
* Die Losuug werdea uiiscre Léser iu der niichslen Nummer tlndeD.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 8.
20 Janvier 1908.
8« Année.
DEUTSGHER TEIL
Tolstois Lebensweise.
Trolz seines hohen LebensulLers und der sich hautig wiederholenden
Erkrankungen ITihrt GrafTolstoi ein sehr regelmiifîiges Leben unrt hângt
an seinen alten Gewohnhei-
ten. Sein Arbeitstag beginnl
Il m aciit Uhr morgens, \va
Tolstoï iin Speisezimmer von
Jalinaja Poljana erscheint
und sein erstes PX'ilisUick
verzehrt, nach dem er einen
kurzen Spaziergang durch
den Garten des Gutes unter-
nimnit. Bei diesem Spazier-
gang, der sicli vielleicht
iiberzwei Kilometerhinziehl,
mufi Tolstoi doch schon ab
und zu 1 ausriihen.
Uni 10 Uhr morgens sieht
cr im Kreise seiner Familie
die eingelaufene Post'^ durch,
die imrner recht umfang-
reich ^ ist und zwanzig und
mehr Briefe bringt, die von
Tolstoi personlich durchge-
sehen werden. Briefe laufen
aus allen ^Yeltteilen an den
greisen Schriftstellerein,und
es sind nicht nur Russen,
die an Tolstoi aus fernen
Erdteilen scbreiben, sondern
weit '" hautiger Auslander,
mit denen Tolstoi in regem
Gedankenaustausch steht. Die
wichtigen Briefe beantwortet Tolstoi meist am namlichen Tage, wâhrend
er manche unwichligen Sachen von seiner Tochter erledigen-^ laÉt und sie
nur unterschreibt. Ganz besonders umfangreich ist Tolstois Korrespondenz
mit verschiedenen Bauern und Geistlichen, denen er immer personlich
antwortet. Den Briefen folgt die Durchsicht von Zeitungen und Zeitschriften
oder eingelaufenen Bûchern, bis sich Tolstoi um zwôlf Uhr in sein Kabinett
zurûckziehl und bis drei Uhr nachmittags ununterbrochen arbeitet.
Augenblicklich stellt Tolstoi ein « Lesebuch fiir die Volksschulen »
Léo ToLbToi.
1. von Zeit zu Zeit. — 2. courrier
[43]
3. important. — i. viel.
'6. besoi'gen.
AL'BV. 8
58 ueOTSCHER TEIL [338j
zusammen, da er nicht mit Unrecht findet, dafi die vorhandenen ^ Biicher
unbrauciibar sind, weil sie den Kindern unverstandlich bleiben und kein
Interesse in ihnen wachrufea. Schlag drei fïihrt ein Groom ein gesatteltes
Pferd vor, und Tolstoï erscheint in einer kurzen Joppe '' und hohen Stiefeln,
um zwei Stnnden dem von ihm besonders gepflegten und bevorzuglen
Reilsport obzuliegen. Meist sieht man den Dichter den Weg nach Tula,
die breite Chaussée, einschiagen und in schlankem ^ Trabe dahinreiten.
Unterwegs wird Tolstoi von jedem Bauern gegri'iêt und meist auch
angesprochen, denn jeder von ihnen hat den alten klugen Mann sehr gern,
der sich in seinem Àufeeren und in seiner Kleidung selbst sehr wenig von
einem Bauern unterscheidet und den Bedïirfnissen und Wimschen der
Bauern soviei Verstiindnis entgegenbringt.
Lîm fLïnf Uhr tritït Tolstoi zur Hauptmahlzeit, die rein vegetarisch ist,
zu Hause ein und seizt sich um sechs wieder an die Arbeit, die er bis gegen
11 Uhr ausdehnt und nur um sieben unterbricht um eine Gruppe von etwa
dreifsig Bauernkindern in den Anfangsgriinden und in der Religion zu
unterrichten. Dièses Unterrichten von Bauernkindern ist Tolstois jiingste
« Liebhaberei », die ihm viel Freude zu machen scheint, da er sehr gewis-
senhaft darin vorgeht^. Seine Stunden haben unter den Bauern einen solchen
Ruf erhalten, dali viele Eltern um die ihnen gern gewâhrte Erlaubnis
nachgesucht haben, die Stunden mit besuchen zu diirfen. Bekanntlich hat
Tolstoi als junger Mann einmal den Versuch gemacht Bauernkinder zu
unterrichten, doch legte sich damais die Hegierung ins Mittel '", der dièse
Art von « Aufkliirung" » doch etwas zu unheimiich '■- war. Jetzt, nach sechzig
Jahren, tindet man einen solchen Unlcrricht Tolstois nicht mehr ungehô-
rig oder gar verbrecherisch '^. . .
(Ber/iner Tageblatt.)
6. actuels. — 1. xorte de paletot. — 8. élégant. — 9. procède. — 10. s'y opposa. —
11. diffusion des lumières. — 12. peu rassurante.— 13. criminel.
Wie unsere deutsche Muttersprache ward.
IV
Die ïiltcste litcrarische Zeit des Deutschen bis 1100 n. Chr. nennt man die
althochdeutsche Période. Ihr sprachliches Kcnnzeichen sind die volltônenden
Vokale in Vorsilben und Endungen; man vergleiche wallôta mit « wallte »,
sumaro, « Sommer» und degano, « Degen » (Genitive der Meluzahl), himil,
« Rimmel » usw. Gegen das Ende der erstcn Période beginnt der Verfall der
vollen Vokale in unbetonten Silben, und die zweite, die nntielhochdeutsehe
Période, die bis zum Ende des Mittelalters rcicht, zeigt an ihrer Stelle ein-
fôrmiges e : wallete, degene, sumer, himel. Die neuhochdeutsche Zeit weisi
zwei hauptsachliche Neuerungen * gegem'iber dem Mittelhochdeutsehen auf :
1) alte lange i und u werden zu ei und au, ferner langes ii zu eu. 2) viele frûher
kurze Vokale werden unter dem Eintlusse des Worttones gedehnt^. So stelicn
sich gegeniibei": mittelhochdeutsches min, hijs, liutc (iu = ii) und neuhoch-
deutsches « mein, Haus, Leute » ; ferner entsprcchen sich altes vater (~ iiber
dem Vokal bedeutet kurze Aussprache desselben), dègen, kTI, bfJte, und neues
« Vater, Degen, Kiel, Bote ».
Das Gebiet, das unsere Muttersprache vor 1000 Jahren innehatte, hat sich
gegen das Ende der althochdeutsciien und besonders in mitteihochdeutscher
Zeitbedeutend vergrôiiert, ot't infolgc kriegerischer Erfolge deutscher Fiirsten,
aber nicht weniger durch iriedliche Besiedelung. Zur ersteren Art gehôren
1. innovations. —2. allongé
[339] DECTSCHER TEIL 59
die meisten Erwerbungen ôstlich der Elbe iind nôrdlich der Eider sowie
Preufsen und Ôsterreich ; zur letzleren Meifien, Bohmen and Schlesien.
Naliirlich wird auf einem so ausgodehnten (iebiet die deutschc Spraclie nichl
iiberall das gleiclie Aussehen haben ; daher gab es seit altersher in Ober-
dentschland die Mundarten der Baiern und Ôsterreicher, neben denen der
Schwaben und Aiemannen ; in lA-litteldeutschland unterscheiden wir die
fràinkischen, Lhiiringiscben, oberstichsischen und schlesiscben Dialekte. In
althochdeutscherZeit steben aile Mundarten gleicbberechtigt^ nebeneinandcr
und jcder Scbriftsteller bedient sich seiner heimallichen Redeweise ; zur
mittelhoclideulschen Zcit gewinnt die Sprache Siidosldeutschlands, der Hei-
mat der grôliten Dichter, ein gewisses Vorrecht, das allerdings mit dem Auf-
hôren der Bliitezeit der Literatur gegen 1230 vertallt. Die darauf folgende
Epoche bis zum SchUifi des Mittelalters ist wiederum gekennzeichnet durch
das Vorherrschen der Mundarten in der Literatur. Die Erfindung der Buch-
druckerkunst (1445 ungefahr) ruft das Verlangen nacb einer einheitlichen
Schriftspracbe hervor, damit die Druckwerke in deutscher Sprache ïiberall,
soweit die deutsche Zunge reichte, verstanden wiirden. Auch war das Bil-
dungsbediirfnis des Volkes gewachsen, die Geister fingen an, sich zu regen.
Docb dem dahinslerbenden Mittelalter sollte die SclialFung der deutscben
Schriftspracbe nicbt mebr gelingen ; iiber ihr leuchtet das Morgenrot der
neuen Zeit, der Geist der Ret'ormation. Martin Luther war es, der, gestïttzt
auf de n Sprachgebrauch der kursiichsischen und kaiserlichen Kanzlei '^ und
seine eigene sprachbeherrschende Begabung, die neue Schriftspracbe schuf,
derer sich bei der Ubersetzung der Bibel bediente. Mit der Bibeli'ibersetzung
trat die neugeschaffene Sprachform ihren Siegeszug durcb die deutschen
Lande an, der sie, trotz anfànglichen Widerstands im aufsersten Siiden, doch
zur Alleinherrschaft im deutschen Schrifttum fiiliren sollte. Wohl blieb
Luthers Sprache im Laufe der Jahrhunderte nicht unverandert; das 16.
Jahrhundert verunschonte sie mit lateinischen, das 17. Jabrbundert mit
franzosischen Fremdwortern, die wir jetzt wieder abzustofjen suchen ; aber
doch beruht der Sprachgebrauch unserer grofsen Dichter durchaus auf
Luthers Schôpfung. Die Sprache derKlassiker von vor 100 Jabren ist aber im
Wesentlichen noch die unsrige, wenn auch seildem manche Veranderung im
Sprachgebrauch vor sich gegangen ist. Denn Leben beifjt auch bei der
Sprache «sich weitereiTtwickeln », einen Stillstand gibt es nicht, obwohl uns
die Veriinderungen nicht sofort zum Hewuhtsein kommen. Wohin die
Entwickelung unserer Muttersprache ftibren wird, wer vermag dies voraus-
zusagen? Wir haben einen raschen Blick auf eine mebr als viertausendjiihrige
Spanne Zeit geworfen, und mancher wird vielleicht einen kleinen Ausblick
in die Zukunft hier erwarten. Wenn wir einen solchen wagen wollen, so kann
uns das Englische als Richtschnur dienen ; es ist der IdeaUorm einer Sprache,
moglichste Deutlichkeit bei môglicbster Zeit- und Kraftersparnis zu
erzielen, am nachsten gekommen. Dahin wird wohl auch der Weg unserer
Muttersprache in einer fernen Zeit vielleicht fïihren.
{Schluf^.) D'-Feist (Berlin).
3. avec des droits égaux. — 4. chancellerie, administration.
2)ref<ï)Ctt ^cv ^rudit.
S)ie S)refri)mnfd)ine fcf)nurrt unb fingt,
S)eL- ©aiil, gemeff'nev Seife,
S)en ©ôpeïarm' itî§ ©e^en bringt
^n immn gïeid)em ^Kveife.
1 . ®en %xm ber Sïefctjmafd^ine.
60 DEUTSCHER TEIL [340J
Dîitr feïten ïommt ein §ûli ! iinb .s^oti
2)er ©aiil îennt feine ^^fUditen,
93ei §eu unb §ûfer ïaf^t fid) frof)
S)aG 2;ûgelt)ert Devridjteii.
®ie aiÎQlterfade ^ finb gefiilït,
®a mag ber ^ad)ter fingen :
931an(^ ©olbftiid, iuirb jein ïi^unfd) erfûlït,
2Birb bnïb im Seiitel flingcn.
2. sacs (contenant un muid).
^ie ^ftttc.
Suft unb Ceben ift nuf bem g^etbe. Ser Sanbmann f)ût jtDar fc^tnevc 5trbett,
nber er ftceid)t fid) ben ët^luei^ auê bem ©efid)te, ift froî)Iid) unb fingt ein
muntereê 8teb» §ei, lt)ie bie blanfen ©enfcn ' raufd)en nnb bie langen, fd)tt)eren
^ûïme 5u 58oben finfen ! S)er ©djnitter njeljt mit bem 2Be^fteine feine ©enfc,
benn fie muf; fc^arf fein, menu fie uietc §atme auf einen ipieb 5erfd)neiben fott.
2)û§ SKei^enfeïb bort t)intcn ift tnilb abgcma()t. ®S fte()t nur nod) cine ïleine
®de, barin t)at fid) ba^ i-idodjen Derborgcn. ÎL>ann mirb eâ l)erauyfpringen? ^e^t
— 0 fe()t, luic fd)ncll ce taufen îann ! — S)cn l"ital)crn fotgen fleifîigc DJlagbc, bie
baê éetreibe Qufnel)men unb e§ ju ©arben binbcn. 3)er ganjc ^^Ider liegt coll
©arben.SBalb abn iDerben fie in Igaufen gelegt, uietd)e ber ^anbmann ïllûubelu'^
neunt. 3(nf bem g^etbe baneben l^aben bie ®d)nitter it)i-e ?lrbcit fd)on beenbet.
3)er ©mtemagen ftc()t t)od) belaben auf bem abgemat)ten 5lder. Sine ©arbe
unb nod) cine (§arbe mirb liinanfget)obeu — jel.U ift'o genug. 3)er -inédit (dfît
bie '^Untfdje tuûKen, unb nnn5ie^en bie ''^sfcrbe bao fd)Uiece î^nber teud)enb auf
ber loderen Srbe bin, im fie auf bie fefte ©trafîe îommen, \vo eô Ieid)tcr gel)t.
58nïb fd)Uianft ber SBagen bnrd) baS weite %oï in ben §of unb in bie geoffnete
<Sd)enne. Xa gibt eâ 3lrbcit fiir ben SKinter, benn luenn ber bic^te <Sd}nee bie
t^clber bedt, fo ge()t eo in ben (£d)enncn : ,,-^Upp, flapp, flipp ! .Vîlipp, ïtapp,
tlipp !" ®ie S)refd)er ft^lagen mit fd)iiieren ^ylegeln^ bie .^îorner ûuo ben 'JU)ren.
©anje Siidc noll 9îoggen nnb SSei.^^en loanbern auf ben ©etreibeboben nnb
bann nac^ ber 9Jtiit)le ober auf ben 5Juirît.
Sanfd).
1. faux. — 2. tas de dix a quinze gerbes. — 3. fléaux.
Kaiser Franz Josef *.
LiEBSTE, BESTE ViCTORIA !
Ich mufi es gestehen, — ich habe den jungen Kaiser redit lieb ; es ist
viel Vernunft und Mut in seinem warmen blanen Auge und es fehlt ihm
auch nichtan einer gewissen Heiterkeit, wenn sich die Gelegenhelt dazu
•Siehe die vier andern Telle. — Brief des Kooigs von Belgien (Leopold I) an seine Nichle,
Kônigin Victoria (1853).
[34 Ij DEUTSCHER TEIL 61
darbietet. Er ist schiank und sehr anmutig, aber selbst in der « mêlée »
der Tànzcr und der Erzherzôge, samtlich in Uniform, liifit er sich immer
als den « Chef» erkennen. Dies iiel mir mehr auf als ailes, denn in Wien
ist jetzt der Bail auch eine « mêlée générale», Avelche das Walzen sehr
schwierig macht. Er benimmt sich vortrefflich, ohne Prahlerei und
Unbeholfenheit, schlicht und — wenn er guter Laune ist, wie er es mit
mir war — recht herzlich und natûrlich. Er hait jeden im Zaum ohne sich
ein Aussehen «outré» von Autoritiit zu geben, blofi weil er der Meister
ist und etwas an ihni haftet, das ihm eine Autoritiit verleiht, die
manchmal diejenigen, welche die Autoritàt haben, nicht imstande sind
einzutïôfien oder auszuûben.
Ich glaube, daft er kann streng sein « si l'occasion se présente » ; er hat
etwas recht energisches an sich. Wir waren zuweilen von Leuten aller
Gesellschaftsklassen umgeben und er befand sich gewift ganz in ihrer
Gewalt, aber nie sah ich seinen Gesichtsausdruck sich ândern, weder vor
Freude noch vor Unruhe.
^vim ®oïï>ftf<ïi unh ï)ttê ^<ifd)ermâ^())cn«
5)hm f)ort, tnaS ©lêbet^ ha ûlleâ erblicfte.
^m ^interiji-iinbe ragte mit feinen îiirmen iinb 3tnnen ' unb mit feinen ^ett
erleuc^teteu 5enftern ba§ îôniglidje (Sd)to§ i}od) in bie 9Jlonbnad)t t)inein. 3}or
bem iScf)loffc inar eine tange, breite ïerrajfe, barouf [tanben nntei* elnem
2f)Von()immeï jlDet Se{)nftiU)Ie t)on lî)ei^em ©amf-, gerabe foie [te (Slêbet^ im
©ee beê ^ûubenmtbeê-^ gejet)en [)atte. Siner biefer StiUiIe tnar leer, aber anf
bem anberen fa^ ber )d)bne jnnge ^5ntggfo()n, nnb t)inUï if)m ber -Êonig, fein
SGûter, nnb ber ganje fonitjtidje ipofftaat '. ®tefen gegeniiber [tanb eine 9îei^e
bon tï)o{)t ^nnbert rotfetbenen (Sefjetn, baranf fa^en bie ^nngfrauen, bte gur
2Bûï)l fid) f)erbegeben batten, mit allem 9fîetd)tum ber (Srbe befjangen^ unbnm=
icidelt nnb nmfUttert^ 3)ann imir auf ber einen ©eite ein f)immelblaneâ (Seriift\
anf bem bie erften 9Jiaïer unb Sanfierâ beê SanbeS nerfammelt luaren, bamit
fie alg Ottd)ter ber (2d§ont)eit nnb beâ 9leid}tumâ it)r 5tmt nertoalteten^^f^i'cn
ober gegeniiber anf cinem orangefarbenen ©eriifte bitefen bie ^^sofaunenbltifer,
panîten bie Xrommter unb ftrtd)en bte ©eiger if)re ^nftrumente, ha^ eê eine
Suft anjufeljen nnb an5nf)bren inar.
9îed)t5 nnb linï'j non biefer Slerraffe fpri^ten berrïic^e (Springbrnnnen roten
nnb tt)eifîen âBein t)od) in bie 2uft, unb nm bie 33rnnnen ftanben gebedte
Xafeln, bie toaren mit ben îbftlid)ften Speifen bebedt. ^n grof^em ^albîreife
anf ber 2Biefe, bie haè ©d)ïofî umgab, ïagerte ha§ 3}otî unter ©e^angen t)on
farbigen i^aternen, bie an ben Sorbeerbdumen befeftigt loaren.
S'en gansen 9îod)mittag batten nnn fd)on bie Dîic^ter beraten, ineldje don
ben angefommenen ^ungfranen loert fei, bie g^rau be§ jnngen ^rin^en ju
toerben, unb ba t)atte eê mie gerabf)nlid) oicï ©trett gegeben. S)ie Waler
nerftanben uid)t ben 9îetd)tnm 5U benrteilen, bie 33anfierS [)atten mitunter ganj
oerîe^rte^ î(nfid)ten oon ber ©d)bn^eit.— ^e^t aber roaï bte ©tnnbe getommen,
1. créneaux. — 2. velours. — 3. fort't enchantée. — 4. cour. — 5. revêtues. — 6. élin-
celanles de. . . — 1. eslrade. — 8. remplissent leur office. — 9. erronées.
62 DEUTSCHER TEIL [342]
lt)o fie bie ïe^te (Sntfc^eibitng ûu§fpre(^en foïlten. ïïtoû) einiiuil fet^ten fie bn^er
il)re Srillen nuf bie 9lafcn imb ïeatcn ifire ^^^erfpettine'" an bie5Iu9en,inti nodE)
bie ïe^te ^^Hiifitng anà:) in Sampen6eleud)tiing anjuftellen ; benn bev @cf)icfli(ï)=
îeit" icegen biirften fie bic^ungfrnuen nid)t 511 nnïje betrad)tcn.^ablie§pl5^=
ïic^ uon ber 3inue bev 33iirg ber Xiirmer ; bte§ Wax ein ^eic^ert, bafj foeben
nod) eine ^ungfran aU Wàthmnbtxin anîomme. S3ûïb roUte and) eine -i^ntfc^e
bat)cr, bie luar ganj uon ^riftall nnb mit ad)t iDeifeen ©d)immeln befpannt.
Unb fiel)e ba, bie ftolje Sonna, bie auê ber -^ntfcîie ftieg, Mun biefelbe, bie ber
®ïêbett) ûuf ber Sanbftra^e iljre ®oIbt)aut geraubt tjotte. Wàt feden '- ©diritten
unb einer ïlîiene, ber man anfaf), fie toare if)re§ éiegeê gerai^, ging fie auf
ben ^laU, lueldjer in ber 9hi^e ber i^nngfranen nod), une e§ fd)ien, fiir fie offen
gclaffen inar. éie ïiatte benfetben ^Injng" an\m trente mittag, mecrgriin nnb
Uici^, unb bod) crfd)icn fie jctit Diel fd^onor ; benn ein .^ranj non golbenen
©d}u|}pen 'S bie lr)ie 2lbenbgofb unb ^Jlbenbrbte glûngten, luarf ûbcr if)r 5lntli^
etnen iDunberbaren ©d)ônt)eit§(^auber, fo ba^ ber ^Put; atter ubrigen bagegen
matt*^ unb irtctfferig erfdjien.
5lller 93lide rid)tcten fid) auf bie ftoïje @rfd)einung, unb ïaum fiattcn bie
9iid)ter fie lt)af)rgenonimcn, a(§ fie bie J^opfe sufammenftedten, unb it)re 3Jlienen
ploliiid) bie grbj^te Ubercinfiitumung'^ Uerrieten.
dliui ftieg eine rote Dtatete'' in bie Cuft, ,yiin 3ei<^en, bafî bicjeuige al5
fitnftige ^buigiu begrii^t loerben fottte, bie man bap fiir unirbig befunben.
Êine Réputation ber 9îid)ter erl^ob fid), 2^rabanten'^ unb §erotbe fd)loffen \id)
an, nnb i()nen fotgte ciu^^age, ber eine fleiue golbenc ^rone auf einem .Ûiffen
t)or fid) t)ertrug. S)er 3"g beiuegte fid) gerabeemegô ,yi berjenigen l)in, bie
.^nleljt angefommen. Xriumpl)ierenb erl)ob fid) bie iibermiitige ^jungfran non
tl)rem <Sit;e, it)re 23Iide fd)ieneu allcô um fid) l)er, mie ber §agel bie 2,0iefen=
binmen, nieber,vifd)mettern, unb fd)on begann ber ^rafibeut beci ©eric^teè ber
<Sc!)bnl)eit unb bee 5)hncî)tum§ eine jicrlid)e 9lnrcbc'^ in U^erfeu, morin er bie
t)ol)en ©igenfdiaften ber (s"ruial)(ten pries.
®er ^age fniete niebcr unb bielt bie -ftrone cmpor, gierig ftredte bie^nngfrau
bie §dnbe banac^ auo. S)a crbraufte auf einmal ein ungcbeurer 2Bir=
beïmnb-" mit foId)er ©euntlt, ba^ bie <Rrone bom ,K1ffen geuuijt unirbe, unb aile
iiampen nnb gûdctn ringciumber ertofd)en. 9îur bie erleud)tcten ^yeufter beè
©c^Ioffeo eugoffeu nod) eineu matten ®d)immer iiber ben ^^la|;. Sogleid) aber
(egte fid) aud) ber ÎCirbelunub, unb atlee mar ftill mie ,ytoor.
*^ïud) ber î'orbeerbufd), ber ©Icibetl) bicil)er oerbedt l)atte, mar 00m ©turin
niebergeriffen. 'Milieu fid)tbar ftanb nun bao g^ifd)ermabd)en ba, in il)rem leud^t^
enben ©teunentranj, ummet)t oou ben Sc^leieru, in bcnen bie ïauperlen aie
Sbclfteine funfetten ; unb in bem ®(an,^e biefer reinen Cic^ter erfc^ien i^r
nnfd)ulbige'j 5lngefid)t uniuberbar oerfldrt'-'.
2)aô .Ui"ad)eu beci umftitr,\enben 5i3aume§ l)atte bie ^lide ber ïlienge nad^bem
§iige( bingclentt. ®in lauteci „5U) !" ber 2]ermunberung nuterbrac^ bie ©tille,
èauauf rief alied, $Bolt nnb î)îid)ter, mie mit einem Wunbe : „©e^t ! febt ! Da
ftef)t bie fd)bnfte unb reid)fte ^fitngfrau ber 30Be(t I ®a ftel)t unfere ,^utunftigc
^onigin, fie lebe t)od)I" — Unb eé fd)metterten bie î^rompeten, .^anoncu
murben gctoft, Dtafeten unb ÎJiiil^en ftogen in bie i3uft, unb ber ,^yubel be§
23olfeù moûte fein Ênbe nel)men.
2Bie aber ber junge rftiinig§fol)n in f)o()en ^^reuben Oou feinem Xijvon fie^
10. jumeUe. — 11. convenaaces. — 12. hardis. — 13. .ftïetb. — 14. écaiUes. — 15.
faible. — 16. accord. — n. fusée. — 18. liallebardiers. — 19. harangue. — 20. tourbil-
lon. — 21. transfiguré.
i3431 DEDTSCHER TEIL 6r{
ertjoli, uni bie i()ni cnuci^lte 33raut ,^u degril^en, iinb aie er t)or6eifd)ritt an
bcr ^ungfrau, beren @to(,^ foeben gebeniiititjt luorben, ba vi\] biefe ben (^o[=
benen ©djuppeufranj am i()i'em §aav, inarf il^n bem ^^rinjen t)or bie ^^Vifee
unb fprac^ : «^tlmm l)in bein (sigentiim, id) fûl)t'-S, mein 9îei(| unb mein Ceben
gel)t 511 Êiibe, mein ©to(') ift befiegt ; bcun bcr ©eift, bcr jeneS ,^ïinb bir
3UîUf)rte, ift mac^tiger ald id)."
©ie tuinfte. 2)ie ,^nj'taUfutfd)e rolltc t)or, bie S^Bafferfee beftieg fie unb
Dcufanf mit i{)i- in ben Soben. %n ber ©telle, tuo fie berfunfen icar, raufd)te
ûlôbatb ein 58runnen mit unl)eimlic^em '-- ©emucmel burd) bnô ©raâ.
Unb une bie ^ee ed gefagt f)atte, fo luav eô au(^. ©in mad)tiger 3ûubcrci-
l^atte fd)on lange unfic^tbav bie ©efc^ide beô lîônigSfobneô geleutt. (ir uiar aud)
ber grane ^ranic^ unb bao graue 5.1îdunlein geloefen unb fiitirtc bem '^k-in^en
eine 23raut ,yt, bie aUein feiner luuvbig luar. ^ii-^t^^" unir ber ÏBuuberfc^mnrf,
ben er iï)r burd) feine SSalbgeifter befcfiert ^atte, Don feltener ^rad)t, aber i()r
grb^ter 9'{eid)tum luar bie Unfdintb unb bie Xreue il)reô •'perâenê, unb eben
biefe llnfd)ulb unb biefe îreue Lierliet)en if)rem ÎCngefic^t eine ©d)ônl)eit, bie
îeine ber anberen S^ungfrauen auf.yiiueifen " l)atte, unb bie it)r aûe ©emiltcr
gewann.
3JUt ber (Sintoittigung-^ ii)xe§ i^aterô, bem baô graue ^33tdnnlein alêbalbfcin
5lugentic§t iDiebergab, warb ©tobett) bie gllidlid)e fyrau beS jungen ^dnigô=
fol^nê, unb alô biefer nad) bem S^obe feineè ^Baterâ ^ônig n)urbe, regierten
beibe unter bem ©d)u|ie beS guten 3ûubergeifteij, ber fie auc^ ferner burd) tRat
unb Xat unterftiit;te, if)r fianb mit fold)cr 2Bei5l)eit, baf^ey fie feguete fur allé
3eiten.
(©c^iufe.) 9îeinid.
(©efd^id^tcn unb Stebcï fiiï bie ^ugenb.)
22. sinistre. — 23. ju jeigeii. — 24. coaseatement.
Deutsche Sprichwôrter.
1 . — Einmal ist keinmal.
Von Johann Peter Hebel.
Dies ist das erlogenste' und schlimmste unter allen Sprichwôrtern, und
wer es gemacht hat, der war ein schlechter Rechenmeister oder ein
boshafter. Einmal ist wenigstens einmal, und davon làfit sich nichts
abmarkten-. Wer einmal gestohlen hat, der kann sein Lebenlang nimmer
mit Wahrheit und mit frohem Herzen sagen: Gottlob ! icli habe mich
nie an fremdem Gute vergritfen, und wenn der Dieb erhascht' und
erhàngt wird, alsdann ist einmal nicht keinmal. Aber das ist noch nicht
ailes, sondern man kann meistens mit Wahrheit sagen: Einmal ist
zehnmal und hundert- und tausendmal. Denn \\er das Bôse einmal
angefangen hat, der setzt es gemeiniglich '^ auch fort. Wer A gesagt hat,
der sagt auch gemeiniglich gern B, und da tritt zuletzt ein anderes
Sprichwort ein, dafi der Krug so lange zum Brunnen gehe, bis er
bricht.
1. le plus menteur. — 2. marchander. — 3. attrapé. — 4. gewohulich.
64 DEUTSCHER TEIL [3441
2. — Einmal ist keiamal.
Von K. Enslin.
Dies ist das walirste von allen Sprichwôrtern, und wer es gemacht
hat, mufi entvveder ein sorgfàltiger Rechner gewesen sein oder ein
grol^er Menschenkenner. Wer einmal einen guten Einfall'^ hat, ist noch
lange nicht weise. Wer einmal einen Heller "^ dem Bettler gibt, ist noch
lange nicht wohltàtig. Wer einmal das Ziel tritft, ist durchaus noch
kein guter Schiitze^ Wenn es einmal im Sommer regnet, vielleicht nur
ein einziges Trôpfchen oder aiich zvvei und ein halb, so dari' man doch
getrost' sagen, selbst wenn einem die zwei und ein halb Trôpfchen auf
die hôchsteigene Nase gefallen waren : In diesem Sommer hat's gar
nicht geregnet. — Einmal ist keinmal. Einmal kann dem Diimmsten
ein gescheiter'* Gedanke kommen; einmal kann der Allerschlimmste
eine gute, fromme Herzensregung verspiiren'"; einmal kann der grôfete
TôlpeP' dasSchvvarzetrellen'"^ — ihrganzes Leben bezeiigtaber, daft dies
nur ein ausnahmsvveiser Zufall'^ war. So ist's im Guten. Im Schlimmen
ist's âhnlicli so. Der weiseste Mann kann einmal irren, selbst in ganz
bekannter Sache; dem frômmsten und edelsten Menschen kann einmal
eine nicht ganz laiitere Herzensregung kommen ; der beste Schûtze
kann einmal das sonst so sichere Ziel verlehlen : sollte man da gleich
sclireien : Das sind dumme, schlechte, ungeschickte Menschen! Aller-
dings soll man ein einziges Unrechtes vie! hôher anschlagen aïs ein
einziges Gutes. Schvverlich wird Ictzteres viel Nachf'olgc haben ; deslo
mehr aber wirkt das erstere nach. Die Fliege, die einmal vom Honig
genascht und gemerkt hat, daft er sùh ist, kommt gar leicht wieder und
tindet endiich ob ilirer Niischerei'^ den Tod. Drum maclf an die Stelle
des einzelnen Guten eine Null, an die Stelle des einzelnen Unrechten
aber einen dickcn Warnungseinser '^
5. idée. — 6. denier. — 7, tireur. — 8. hardiinent. — 9. kluger. — 10. êpiouvef. —
il. balourd . — 12. aUeindre le but. — 13. un kasard exceptionnel. — 14. ijourman-
dise. — 15. un un qui te le rappelle.
^^um ofifHfdjcê,
*l)on fcincm <«tAnti))uittt
3auî)erfUn[tIei-- : ,„^etU iuerb' ià) midj glcii^ unfirf)t6ac madjenl"
©tubent : „%l)a, ^l)ï èc^nctber iii bcr 93iibe, Uia§ ?"
1. point (le vue. — 2. preslidigilaleur.
OtatfcUtttfldfutto : 2, i^tmï.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 9. 5 Février 1908. 8« Année.
DEUTSCHER TEIL
i\i>cv ,,<Sïo(fcttôcta«tc ".
,,2tn ben ©(oden f)at ha^j \m\\\i)l\&ji D^r t)ie((etcE)t juerft ben Dîeij ber S)iffonan3
entbedt unb bitrc^ :^aufigere§ ^oren ba§ §ûrmoniegefûf)I Oertieft unb emeitert, 9}on
Qlterêî}er inar eô a\\6) baè 3îeftre6eu ber funftferticjen ©ieBer', ©étante ,]ufammeti3uftetten,
bte auê ben ïonen beê ®reiïtangeê gebitbet erfc^ienen, ja, eë ftimmten oft bie ©tocïen
etner tjanjen Stabt ^rmoiufcf) irgenbtuie 3ufammen. 5ttê ^onig ^eter Don 6i)pern ben
.Soifer ^Qxl \W in ':]}rag befnc^te, erjdtitte ber g^ronift iiber ben feftttd^en (Sinpfang in
ber ©tabt: „Unb atte ©tocïen tauteten unb mad^ten einen fotd^en ^iifammenïtang, bo§
eâ ein grogeâ SBunber mar. ®er ,^onig ftaunte bariitier fe'^r unb fagte, cr i]aht in
feinem Ceben noi^ ïeine fo grofee 93letobie getjort."
®ie Stàbter beê gtoan^igften ^aljî-'ïiitn^eït^ miffen non fotc^ geinattigen, f)unbertftim=
migen ©tocïenfi)mpf)onien uii^tê mefjr, bie in ben ^uppetn ifjrer atten Siirme f^tafen.
9Jlan loutet je^t auc^ toeniger aU el^ebem, snmat^ bie gro^en ©tocEen, beren ©c^att, toie
bie ©rfatirung^ getef)rt t)at, mit ber 3eit aud^ bie O^eftigïeit beë Surmeê fetbft gefat)rbet'\
Slucf) mogen bie otuftiîd^en 93ert)dttnifie je^t anbere gemorben fein. ®ie fd}maten,
geiminbenen-' ©affen mit ben niebrigen ober mittelgroBen, giebetigen'^ ^aujern ergabeu
anbere §or5ebingnngen, atê nun bie grabtinigen, breiten StraBenjiige unb uierftocfigen
§aufert)Iocïô. S)ie SOlac^t beê ©tocfentoneê, ber fi(^ in ben taufenb 235intetn unb ©dfen
ber atten Stabt nerfing ^, enttang beê [Jluffeê batjinmattte, unb bem bie ^ptalje gteic^:
fam atâ 9tefonatoren bienten, ift mit bem JBerftummen ber gan3 grofeen ©tocfen bem
®eba(ï)tniô ber t)eutigen ©eneration entriicft, unb bie ïteineren ©todfen (jaben an bem
©trafeentcirm ber ©rofeftabt, iwn ^tingefn unb 9îumpeln ber (Stettrijcf^en ^ im ©ums
unb 23rau§ ber .^raftmagen eine ftarfe iîonfurrenj. Dlocf) immer mag bie ©tocïenin=
fc^rift Vivos voco ,5U 9îec^t be[tet)en. Slber bie ©tocîen rufen, unb man I)ôrt nur toenig
auf fie, fogar in ienen ^reifen, bie bem ïirc^ticfien Seben no(^ nic^t entfrembet finb.
Sagcgen begegnet man ber ^oefie ber ©todenftimmen nocf) cietfac^ auf bem Saube,
fomeit fie nic^t aui^ t)ier Dor ber atteê uerniicfiternben '' ^ubuftrie f)at jnriidnieit^en
miiffen. 9îamentti(^ im ©ebirge bietet ha^^ ©étant ber ©tocïen auê ben oerfdfiiebeneu
Sdtern unb in mannigfacf)en ^tangabftufungeu bem aufmertfamen 23eobac^ter ein
rei^Dotteë §orfpiet, unb bie ®inl)eimifif)en fjaben fiir bie ®igentïimti(ï)teiten ber ein=
jetnen ©etdute oft ein fel^r feineê 0()r. S)ie §eimatfiï)u^Derbdnbe '" miifeten ibr 9tngen=
merî au(^ ein luenig auf bie fcbonen ©tocïen in ©tabt unb £aub t}intenten unb barin
etmaê S8euial]rungôuiiirbtge'j erfeinien. (Sbenfo tonnte ber Cebrer in ber ®cf)ute burcfi
getegentticbe Çinmeife unrîen. ÏÛie Dieten ift b^ute ha^j '^bdnomen be§ ©todengetauteë
nur noc^ au§ feiuer ftilifierten Dtacïia^mung in ber 93lufif, non htn ,,.Ktoftergtoden"
bié 3um ,,*parfifat" beïannt.
1. fondeurs. — 2. befonberS. — 3. expérience. — 4. in ©efa'br fe^t. — 3. tortueuses.
— 6. à pignons. — 7. s'engoufifiait. — 8. tramway électrique. — 9. niic^tem = a jeun,
sobre. — 10. les associations pour la protection des sites, des usages locaux.
[49] ALLBM. 9
(ÎQ DEUTSCHER TEIL [386]
©Detf)e, ^etfst eê, ijabt haè ©eldut {,,haè Derbanimtc 33iin6ambimnieï") ni(^t leiben
fonneii. Si>ermutïicf) aiux bloB baè je^r ïaiiQ aiibaueriibe, mie es in fvûf)eren 3^^*^"
ïïbM) toar, benn er fiât boâ) auc^ toieber fefjr waxm non ,,be§ ©ïocfcntoneê x^Mt"
gefpro(|en. ©g n^are rec^t fiùÊfc^, inenn man fid^ entii^Ioffe, bic ©focïe and) auBeri)aI6
ber iî'irc^e aie 5ffent(îcf)eê ©ignûllueïfjeutj nnebev tnef)r ,]n nerluenben. Sen liettf(^
f)eulenben Sampfpfctfen, momit .^nm SBetfpicI bie [yaOrifcn ben iBegtnn beâ 33etrie6e§'i
nnb ben g^eierabenb an3eigen, Uniren fie jebenfatlô i:)or3n,3iel)en. Saé ijroBftabttfdje
Seben roirb tdgltd^ gerau]"cEH)oïïer unb tonlofer. 5Berge6enê ftrdnben luiv '- un§ gegen bm
Sarm ber iyn[)ruierîe, gegen bie 2Barnnngêjeicf)en ber ©trafeenbafjn nnb gegen bie §upe '■'
btè Stnto, 5ntan ïomme une atfo ni(ï)t mit ber 9liicï)id^t onf unfere 9îen)cn, Uienn mon
gerobe bie frennblii^en unb mufifatififien ^ebenéflange, bie Don nnferen îiirmen in baâ
toffe ©etrtebe nieberïd)a((en, ol^ne ©egentoeî^r Iiefcitigen lafet. ©ebt ben Siirmen i^re
Spracfje luieber !"
9{. SSatfa. (Ser ^unftfôart.)
H. 5trïieit. — 12. nous réclamons. — 13. coroe.
Die Vereinigten Staaten von Brasilien.
Ihre wirtschaftliche Lage und Beziehung zum Weltverkehre .
I
Seit es den Nordamerikanern gehingen ist, von brasilien Vorzugszolle ' zu
erlangen, macht sicli in allen Landern, die in Brasilien Handelsintcressen
zu vertreten haben, eine Dewegung bernerkbar, die daraiif binzielt, diellan-
delsbcziehungen zu diesem Lande auszudehnen. Brasilien ist cin .\bsatzge-
biet- von allergrôfiter Bedeiitnng und der dortige Markt ninimt an Aufnahme-
fabigkeit derart zii, dafî die konkiirrierenden Staaien darauf bedacht sein
miissen, sich ihren Platz an der brasilianisehen Sonne zu sicbern. Sogar die
Japaner bereiten sich in aller Stiile darauf vor, mit in den Konkurrenz-
kampf einzutreten und sind in (ieberhafler Tiiligkeil, das Terrain nach jeder
Uichtung hin zu sondieren.
Âuch Portugal macht in lelzter Zeit aile Anstrengungen 3, seinen Ilandel
n)it Brasilien mehr zu beleben.
Fernor bictet Ôsterreich-Ungarn ailes auf, seinen Export nach Brasilien
zu vermehren, und die Regierung ist bemûht, den osterreichischen Firmen
diirch ihre Konsulate den Weg zu ebnen K Am auffalligsten aber wird die
Propaganda fur den Handel mit Brasilien neben den Vereinigten Staaten jetzt
von Frankreich Itetrieben. Eine Beilie von oftiziellen und halboftiziellen
franzôsischen Kommissionaren haben Brasilien in der letzten Zeit boreist.
Angenblicklich ist wieder ein solcher unterwegs. Vor ihm besnchte der fran-
zôsische Stadtverordncte Tiirot Rio Grande und S. Paulo. Er ist hier mit
grofser Auszeichnung' behandelt vvorden, und als er nach Paris zuriickkehrte,
begann er alsbald eine energische Propaganda t'iir brasilianisehen Katï'ec.
Sein Vorschlag ging dahin, dafi die franzôsiscbe Regierung den KafTeehandel
monopolisieren soUte, wobei sie seiner Ansicht unch nicht nur Millionen
verdienen, sondern auch Zollvergïmstigungen ' von Brasilien erlangen
wiirde.
Tiirot bat es herausgefiihlt, dafs der franzôsiscbe Eintlufj, der friiher in
Brasilien dominierte, fast ganzlich geschwunden ist, obwohl die franzôsiscbe
1. des tarifs de faveur. — 2. marché. —3. efforts. — 4. aplanir. — 5. èfiards
[387] DEUTSCHEl. TEIL G"
Literatiir atich lieute nocli zicmliche V'erbreitung liât. Durch ein Entgegeii-
konimen im Kaffeehandel hofft Turot eine Wiederanniiherung dcr beiden
Lander herbeifiiliren za konnen.
AUgemein scheint man in franzosi?cben Handelskreisen daraut'hinzuarbei-
ten, dafiderhohe Kaiïeezoll bedeutend herabgesetzt "^ werde. Dem Handelsmi-
nister gingen in lelzter Zeit verschiedene Potitionen in diesem Sinne zu. Eine
davon ging von dem « Comité Central d'Initiative et de Propagande Franco-
Brésilien » ans. Darin wird ausgefiihrt ^, dafi die franzôsischen Produkte,
besonders Wein und Spirituosen, infolge der hohen brasilianischen Zôlie
immer mehr zuriickgedrangt werden, und dafi der Export Frankreichs nach
Brasilien in steter Abnahme * begrifîen sei. Das Comité Central miftt die
Hanptschuld an diescn) Ruckgange dem hohen Katfeezoll, der seitl8T3 erho-
ben wird, bei ^ Zur Zahlung der Kriegskosten von iSTOhatte Frankreich u. a.
auch den Katfeezoll erhôlit, und zwar von 56 Franken pro lOOKilogramm auf
156 Franken. Erst 1900 wurde der ZoU iim '10 Franken ermafiigt, ist also
heute noch, wie mitlîecht gesagtwird, unverhallnismafiighoch.Es wird nnn
vorgeschlagen, den KaflFcezoll wieder auf 56 Franken herabzusetzen.
Es ist deshalb sehr wahrscheinlich, da6 die fi'anzôsische Regierung bald
mit Brasilien in Unterhandiungen treten wird. Vielleicht bringt der neuc
franzôsische Gesandte bereits diesbeziigliche Instruktionen mit. ^Yenn man
nun bedenkt, daft der Kafi'ee das Hauptprodiikt Brasiliens ist, und daÉ die
Regierung gewillt oder vielmehr gezwimgen ist (wie die Kaffeevalorisation
zeigt), fi'ir die Kafïeebauer grofie Opter zu bringen, so kann man wohl anneh-
men, daÉ eine Einigimg mit Frankreich zustande kommt.
Unter solchen UnTstanden kann es den Regierungen nicht dringend genug
empfohlen werden, bald mit Brasilien in Verhandlung zu treten, um so mehr,
als der Kongrefi in diesem Jahre wieder iiiier eine bedeutende ZoUerhôhung
zu beraten bat, die bereits ausgearbeitet ist und sehr wahrscheinlicii
beschlossen werden wird.
Es diirfte daher gerade jetzt von allgemeinem Interesse sein, die vvirt-
schaftlichen Verhaltnisse etw^as naher zu beleuchten, um ein klares Bild
dieser fur die IPiiidelsinteressen wichtigen Staaten zu erhalten. Dièses kann
aber nur geschchen, wenn wir in die Anfange des Wirtscbaftslebens eines
Staates zuriickgreifen und sowohi die wirtschaflliche als auch die politische
Entwicklung daraus ableiten. Die oiïiziellen Berichte hieriiber geben hin-
reichendes Material hierfiir und erganzen sich ans den Komnientaren der
verschiedcnen Konsulatsberichte und der am brasilianischen liandel be-
teiligten Firmen. Ailes deutet aber darauf hin, daft wir es mit einem Staate
zu tun haben, der die Ilandelsinteressen der gesamten Welt in Anspruch zu
nehmen in der Lage ist und dièses auch zu tun gedenkt.
[Fortsetz-ung folgt.)
Prof. D' A. FiscHFR.
[Ôsterreichiscke Handelsschiii-Zeitung. )
6. diminué. — 7. expliqué. — 8. décroissance. — 9. iiiiftt bel..., alfrihue.
2)ic fomifd)c 3citc î)cr 9icfïrtmc.
(3ïaâ) amevifaniicfjen Cuetlen.)
SBoit ôarolî) SPlovré.
Ser 5lmeriïaner nimmt ftir fid^ baê ^carogatin in Stnipruct) ', in Sac^en ber 3lef(ame
Porbitblic^^ jit njivïen. Ser guropaer rdumt if)m biefeê faft of)ne SÛSiberipruc^ ein% lutb
1. in îtnïptuc^ nef)men, prétendre à. — 2. borbilblic^ = at§ 5Boïbtlb (modèle).— 3.
-ctnïfiumen, concéder.
68 DEUTSCHER TEIL [388]
e§ ift boiser juieifetloê intereffant, baè Sfiefen ber 9îeîiaiiie, inêfcejonbere ber amerita^
nif(|en, einiuûl etrt)aê naf)er gu beUuâ)kn,
®§ ift nod^ gar nidfit lange :^er, bafe ber â^itungêlefer, ber 2[Btrt§:^au§gaft, ber
©ef(5ûft§mann auf ber ©trafee unb ber 9îeifenbe auf ber Stfenèa^n in ben 93ereinigten
Staaten ftetê etne ânîûtnmenfteïïung Don SBucEiftaben nnb Sai)Un vox fetnen 9(ugen
fal), beren Sinn «oKftanbig untierftanblicfi toax, '-^on allen 3leïlametafeln ber
©rofeftabte, anf aïïen 3iiunen ' Iang§ ber Sa^n, aué jeber îageêjeitnng, 23}o(îien= ober
9Jlonatêfc^rift ïeu(ï)tete bem Singe f olgenbeê i?rt)))togrûmm ^ entgegen :
„S. T. 1860 X."
®ie Sacf)e luurbe talb befprocïien unb Êelû(ï)t unb fc^Ueglic^ nnangenet]m. 2Ben man
traf, tno^in man fam, iiberaïï prie mon nur bie eine O^rage ; ,,5ÏBaê bebeuten biefc
îmjftifd^en ^^ii^fn ?" 50tan fd^ïofe JEBetten*^ aB, baB eë ein 3SerriidEter " fei, ber fo fein
©elb uerfc^Ieubere*, ti)d{)renb ber ©egner nielleic^t beïjauptete, ba^ Slnbreto garnegie auf
biefe Sffieife berfucEie, fein JGermogen ïoê gu merben ; ïurjum^ bie gac^e toar fialb fo
adgemein in bûë tiiglicfie 2eBen eingebrungen, ba% eê firf)erïicï) ïein Scf)nlfinb gafi, baê
ni(^t biefe îabbaliftift^e 3^orineI geîannt unb iiber il)re 23ebeutung nac^gegrubelt '° f)âtte.
3tl§ bie ©ebulb auf baè Ijoi^fte angefpannt mar, erfd^ien bie Sôfung in atlen 23tattern.
®i£ ern)a{)nten 3fi'ï)6n ï'f'^Eiitftfn : Started trade in 1860 with 10 (X) Dollars*,
©in Beïannter Ciïiirfabriïant ï)atte biefe Sombenreflame auêgetiifteit" — mit toelt^em
©rfolge, baè ôetueift fein "ilîalaft in ber fnnften 3loenue in 9teui=2)orf.
©in Sgrooflt^ner [J^abrifant lieB fic^ Uor fur^cm an feinem Slutomobit ©nmiuireifen '-
anbringen, bie auf i()rer StuBenfeite grofee 9ieï(amefalje in er^bener {yorm '-^ eingegoffen
geigten. 5)ur(^ eine ingeniofe SSorrid^tung'* Uefen biefe Dteifen burd^ ein SRcferuoir
Iceifeer 3^ar6e, fo bafe baê Sluto ouf ben afpt)aïtierten ©trafeen ununterbrocfjen '■•
,, brucîte". S)ie 23e^brben niac^ten mit biefem mobernen llngetiim ''' inbeô fur3en
^^ro3efe '' unb ïonfisâierten baè 3tuto, biê bie ^often ber 9leinigung be^atjït toaren.
Sogar ber amerifanifi^e S^armer ift Dont ©eifte ber Sleflame befeelt unb Derfe^tt
niemaïê, feine ÎÇrobuïte burc^ aïlc moglid^en 93titte( in baè befte Sit^t 5U fe^en. ©in
befonberê ïluger §err biefer ©ilbe Derfaufte ïiir3li(ï) auf bem JÏÔaf^ington ïïlorîet in
9îeto=3)orf feine .ffiirbtêernte, loobei fid) f)erau^fteKte, baB jeber etn^eïne ^iirbiâ'^ in
er^abener Siïirift ben Dîamen unb bie Slbreffe feineè O^armerô trug. Sie SBud^ftaben
loaren auf ben jungen iyriid)ten cinfarf; eingeriljt Uiorben unb biè jum StuêUiadEifen ber
^iirbiffe pïaftifc^ l^erDorgetreten.
3n S^icago, ber ,,^orïopoIiâ" (ober ,,®(ï)>cetnopoIiê", \vk toir bafiir im ®eutf(ï)en
fagen ïonnten), ïonnte man nor tursem eine gan3e §erbe ber nii^ïicf)en ®icîf)duter '^
fe^^en, toeldfie qïïc anf i^ren bicfen 2Banften mit fcf)liiar3er i^avbi nngefa^r folgenbe
2Borte angemalt trugen :
„®lDiftê 2Biirfte finb bie beften, loir garantiercn biefelben."
©in fc^ïauer St)eatcrbireïtor im Sanbe ber unbcgrenjten-û 9JUig(id;feiten ïann ben
9îuï)m fiir fi(ï) in Stnfprucï) nef)men, eine gan3nene Slrt ber 9îcf(ame erfunben 3U f)aben,
bie bon riefigem ©rfolge begleitet mar. ©ine grofee 3(n3aïjf non Seuten aïïer
©efeïïfc^aftêîlaffen erl^ielt eineê 5Dlorgenê folgenben SSrief : „Seî}r geeljrter §err !
3(ngenommen2', ^^^ cv^^. jû^jii(j|e§ ©inïommen 13 000 ®otfarê betriigt, unb ba^ ©ie
btm ©runbfai ïjulbigen, ba\i ^di ©elb ift, fenbe id) Qbnen fiir 3>net ajlinuten 3f)rer
ïoftbaren 3eit einliegenb-- einen ©d)erf auf bie 9kto=3)orïer Staatêbanï fiir nier (ïentê,
maê ungefaf)r ^tjrem ©inïommen fiir 3niei 9Jtinuteu entfprid)t. ®afiir bitte id^ ©ie,
4. barrières. — 5. ^^ctmlt^e ©c^rtft. — 6. paris. — 7. fou. — 8. gaspillait. — 9. bref.
— 10. ruminé. — il. imaginé. — 12. pneus. — 13. en relief. — 14. dispositif. — 15.
sans interruption. — 16. monstre. — 11. peu de fa(,'ons. — 18. citrouille. — 19. pachy-
dermes. — 20. illiniilées. — 21. à supposer que. — 22. ci-inclus.
* ,,gin9 mciu OJefcfjaft im ^a'ijxc ISGO mit 10 S)oUaï§ an."
[389] DEUTSCHER TEIL 69
bie einliegenbe ïur3e JBefc^reibung ber neuen ^offe -■' bun^gulefen, bie con 93iontag on
taglic^ im X=3:^eatev aufgefufjrt luirb." ^eha ber Êmpfdnger 6eei(te fief) natiirlid^^
bie merïiuiirbige 5poffe anjuîefien, bie if)m bier Êentâ einge6rac[}t (jatte.
8e(f)ft ber 2ob ift bem Sliii^rifaner nitïit ï}eitig genug, um bie ©elegen^eit 3U eincr
guten 9îcf(ame bo6ei iiorii6ergef)en 311 laffen, unb abgefefien-''^ non ben îobeêan^eigen,
bie g[eicf)3eitig eiiie Derftedte ©efcfidftsreïlanie entfjalten, gidt eê aud) 3lnfiinbigimgen,
bie anbere Singe befaiint tiiarfien. ©ine Same, tueliîje ifjreu SOlaun uerlor, fc^rieb
foïgenbe ,,3(nnonce" auf ben Ceic^enftein beâ 93er6Iic§enen -' :
§ier ru^t in @ott mein @atte
,3ejaîicï Smart, betrauevt tion
einer jungen unb Iieï)en§tt)iiï=
btgen SBittoe, ber er etn jwei=
ter S5ateï toar.
SSon einer gan,3 abnormen ^^a^igïeit, Dieftame 311 mad^en, muB ein ^utfabrifant in
Baltimore befefien fein, ber fofgenbeê ®tiidcf)en 3miiege brat^te : ^n me^reren ïageê=
geitungen tourbe eine 3^rau gefu(f)t, beren 5Jiann 3um 2obe uerurteilt Uiorbeu
fei. aSei ben uieten DJlorben luar bie ©efuc^te balb gefunben, bie tion bent
jd^ïauen §errn einen §unbertbo(Iarêf(f)ein fiir geUiiffe ^îennittlungâbieufte cr^ielt.
©0 ïam e§, bafe atn Sage ber .^inrirfitung^^ eineê Dîaubmorberê, gerabe aie bie fjatttiir
beê ©aïgenê" faiïen f otite, ber ©elinquent aie Ie|te ^iJergiinftigung-^ erfeat, einige SBorte
ginn 3Uifc^ieb an bie 3at)[rei(ï) oerfammetten 3iii'^'ii'^^" ï^f^ten 3U biirfen. Dhrtfibem ber
3ticï)ter unb ber 6f)eriîf bie 3u[tiinniung gegeben Catien, jagte ber Slobeêfanbibat
ungefa()r foIgenbeS ; ,,%iieè, toaê ic^ no^ 3U fagen t)abt, ift, ba'B ÏÏHx. ^nog bie Êeften
§errent)ïite fiir 3mei ®oEarë fa&rijiert !" ^m niii^ften SJtoment luar er einen .(?opf
ïiirser.
3tber nicf}t nur in ber greffe lueife ber Stmeriîaner fein "^^utviifum 3U ï)efte($en-^
a3efonber§ finb eâ bie Sc^aufenfter, luelc^e an Criginalitdt ber Sîeflame manc^eâ
S)ro(Iige aufsuineifen ()aben. ^n einem §errenauêftattungëgef(ï)aft ber 9îeH)=3)orïcr
SSoicert) ïaê man foïgenbeê ©c^ilb :
S)iefe §)emben fotlten ^i}mn am §er3en liegen !
3(uc^ bie folgenben @mpfef)Iungen fiir amerifanifrfien -ffafe finb mert, I)er3eicf)net 3U
toerben ; ^Slu'^iger ^dfe non grofeer IRefpeftabilitat ! ^cife, ber fic^ nur um feine
eigenen Slngelegen^eiten beîiimmert, unb ber ï)ef(^eiben ift. .^afe, beffen Seben nicEit
lout ))ulfiert, unb ber nic^t nadf) ber erften SBorftellung non beinem Sifc^e nerfc^ininbet,
aber ber aucfi nitf)t non fetbft f)inauff(ettern fann. ^ur3nm ^dfe, ber nur 20 gentâ baô-
*Pfunb foftet, aber treu unb an(}tingtic^ ift !"
23. farce. — 24. outre — 25. ©eftorBenen. — 26. exécution. — 2" potence. — 28.
faveur. — 29. séduire.
Zu Pferd ! zu Pferd !
1.
Zu Pferd ! Zu Pferd ! Es saust der Wind !
Schneeflocken, dûstre, jagen !
Die schûtten non den Winter aus !
Zu Pferd ! zu Pferd ! Dure h Sa us und Braus
Die heifie Brust zu tragen !
70 DEUTSCHEh TEIL 1390
Mit kraiisen Nûstern prùft das Rofe
Die Luft, danii wiehert's mutig;
Niir wie ich herrsche, dient das ïier ;
Ein Driick — von dannen tliegt's mit inir,
Als \vâr' mein Sporn schon bliitig.
3.
In raeinem Manlel wiihlt der Wind,
El" raubt mir fast die Mûtze ;
Ich hab' ihn gern aiif meiner Spur,
An seiner Wiit erprob' ich's nur,
Wie fest ich oben sitze.
Friedrich Hebbel.
j^cl^>ettto^ *.
3nQleid) mit bcm 9JUd)al fioOicfi nerliefeeii fiebenunbjluanjii] anberc juîige
^urfd)cn, glcid) il)in 9îefert)i[tcn, bas ^cimateborf, um nad) (s^cnftodjau ju
fafjren. 2)ortl)in iMren fie cinberiifen' luorben, bort foUten fie eiugeueiljt unb
non bort in bie nngcîannte ^yerne Dftûfienê gefd)idt luerben, nm bie getnbe be§
3}aterïanbeS jn beîdmpfen unb ju befiegen. ÎGar haè ein (Scbrangc nuf bcm
fteinen 23al)nliofc, I)eilige DJînttcu ©ottcô I 3^aô gan^c S)orf gob bon ëd)eibcnben
baê ©eteite^ bcn ^ricgcrn, bie entmeber aie .§elben obcr gar nidjt Uiicberfcbren
Uniubcn. ©iitigcu, gro^er ipcri* ^c\uè, wie niele 21rdnen ba uergojfen iinirben,
luie niele ©ebete bon fdjmer^Iic^ 5ndenben ^^raucnlippen 5um §immet empoi'=
ftiegen nnb mie niele ©egenën)iinfd)c !
5Im fdjlDcrftcn fdjicn bcr 5ïbfd)icb jcncn ju tuerben, bie ben bi(bt)iibfc^en
jnngen '43nrfct)en, ben 5Jhd)al Sobidi, nmringten. 3^a wax bie fd)ijnc DJtania,
bie S^odjter beâ veidjften 23ancrn im ®oufe, bie fid) fd)liid)^enb'' an hcn geliebten
93rautigQm îtammerte nnb it)n nic^t ïaffen iDoUte. 2)a luar i()r ïï^atn, ber alte
3ûn Sefd)îo, beu feine îod)teu, fein ein^igeS ,^tnb nnb bie ntleinige Êrbin
feiner §abc, fo fef)r liebte, ha^ eu fogar feine Êinmilligung ^nr -S^cirat mit
bem ncvUHiiften ^nrfdjen erteiït Ijatte, bcr teine -ftopefc eigencS @nt bcfafî nnb
bïofj non bcr ©nabe feiner ©d)mcfter Icbte. ®a mar biefe fclbft, bie bitrre ^atja
©avoiric-j, bie bem SIenb, bovin bie (SItern fie unb i()ren 58ruber ^nriidgclaffen
Ijûtten, bûburi^ entronnen îuor, ha^ fie ben bummen, nlten ^afper cinfing. llnh
ha iDQr enbïid) ber ^afper, ber bem 331td)ûl, feinem 6d)Uiager, nuf 33efel]l
feiner ^ran fogar niele bïcinfe 9tnbeï mitgegeben l)ntte. 9,1îet)r ober niinber,
fomcit eâ ebcii bie t)artcn 3citen crlaubten, l)ûttcn iibrigenS nlle, bie eiiien
Siebcu fd)cibcn faljcn, Don bem faner nnb miibfclig eruioubenen ©parfdjalv'' etma§
^ergcgebcn. Unb floffen itjre S^ranen nun and) l)auptfad)lid) in îlbfd^iebômel)
nnb angftooUer 93eforgnig um baê S!Bol)l ber jnngen §elben, aud) ber ©ebanîe
* Wû 6-vïauï)ui§ be§ ^evrn a^evfaiicïê abflcbtuctt. (Sîfr ÏBcg iii§ 'Diicf}t§. 5îot»eIlen bon
Jyviebïtcf) aBcïtiev Mn Defteren. ©gon ^•letjcfjei unb 6°, iBerlin, 1908.) — @iei)e bie Dier
nnbern ïeile.
1. convoqués. — 2. escorte. — 3. sanglotaule. — 4. épargne.
[391] DEL'TSCHFH TEIL 71
au bic au] eluig uerlorenert ©eïbfturf'e erpre^te fie cin inciiig. Wbn ftolj toareit
fie beiinodj, bie ba ^urilcîîineôen. 5ï(Ie, nl(e. ©tol^, bù% einer i()re§ 58(ute§,
\i)XQè Dîamenâ (linauêjoç], iim bne initerlaiib ,^u retten iiiib, lueiin ber grunb=
giitige >onv ^efiuj ein ®infe()cn fintte, alS Qefeiertev §e(b f)eiin5ii!ef)ren.
®iefeS 23elDU^tfein, biefe Jpoffiunuj fpriiî)te nlleii auâ ben 5tugen, leiidjtete
aiien don «Stirn iinb Stfiaiujen. (gelbft bie ^Blide ber ïllania, beâ fcf)dneu
9Jlabd)en§, beffen .s^evj bod) lueit mel)r don ^Bangen unb 5lrennung§tt)ef) erfiillt
Waï, ftrnfjltcii buv^ ben bidjten ©djïeier bei-unauf()aïtfnni'^ queUenbenSlranen
tliiiburd).
,/3Jîidjaï, 0 mein geïiebter, einjiger Wid)ai/' jammerte fie fd)tud),5enb,
„bergife mi(^ nidjt, bïeib' mir treu ! SCSeifet bu, bie 3a)3ûueriuuen fotten fo
fd)on, 0, fo fc^ôu feiu. ®a§ tuet^ id) gan^ geloi^. Unb tdenu bn banu ein grof^ei*
^err unb ein bei-iit)mter §elb gcuiorben bift, 9.1tid)nl, mein 9Jîid)aï, dercgiB mid)
nic^t 1 ^'omm mieber ju mir juriid I ^sd) luorte unb benfe 5tag unb 9îad)t nui-
an bid). Xa§ fdjluore id) bir 6ei ber grof3eii, lieben (Snabeumutter non Ê5en=
ftod)au, ju ber iâ) fo oiel, fo oiet beten loerbe fur bid), 93îid)a(, 33Ud)at !"
„0, 9JLid)aI," fagte je^t bie ,^atja mit i()rer biinnen ©timme, „oergiB nic^t,
t)orft bu, in Gjenftoc^au unferer giitigen, drouen ©otteSmutter eine fe{)r bide
Ëer^e ju fd)enîen ! ^d) t)i^^^ ^ii-' ^(^^ ®elb gegeben. Unb oor allem fag' if)r,
^orft bu, baf3 bie .riatja ©arolDic^ eine fel)r red)tfd)affeue Q^rau unb gute {St)riftin
ift unb fie um if)rcn ©egen bittet. §orft bu, oergi^ nid)t!"
(J-Drtfe^utig fo(gt.)
griebrid) 2fierner oau Ccftéren.
5. immer.
^le cvficn Sttft()rtaoiié in aBciiimt*.
S)ie „©tunben mit (Soetf)e" bringen 5(u^erungen auy ber erften 3eit "^er
SnftbaûonS. Se ift befaunt, ha'^ im Dîooember 178:2 ber altère 5Dlontgoïfier
ein papierneâ ^aratieïepipebon biâ jur ©tubenbede auffliegen (ie^, unb baf]
1783 5u 5lnnonal) unb ^aris grôBere fieiniuanbapparate in bie §bf)e gingen.
aSilber ber «SuftbaUe" fc^idte ber lîupferftectier Bille an 9Jîercf in Sarmftabt,
©oetf)e§ ^reunb.
^n ®eutfd)lanb nerfuc^te man ^undc^ft, mit fleinen Sallonô, bie unfern
^al)rmarft§tinberbal(ong gli(^en, baâ tounberbare ^bcinomen nad)5ua()men.
9latiirli(^ auc^ in SBeimar, tno ®oetl)e unb ber ^erjog -^arl ?luguft immer
lernbegierig iDuren unb in bem 5lpotf)efer S)r. SSud)l)ol3 einen llniderfalna^
turforfc^er unb Xed)nifer an ber §anb f)atten. îlber e§ UJottte uid)t gliideu. îlm
27.®e,^ember 1783 fc^reibt ®oetl)e an .fînebcl : „33ud)f)ol5 peinigt dergebenS
bie Siifte : bie <^ugeln tootlen uid)t fteigen. Sine t)at fic^ einmal gteid)fam auS
33o§f)eit bis an bie ®ede ge^oben unb nun nid)t toieber. ^c^ f)ûbe nun felbft
inmeinem ^erjeu Befi^loffen, ftiUe anjuge()en, unb l)offe, auf bie SJlontgolfier
5ïrt eine ungebeure ^ugel getriB in bie Suft ju jagen... g^reilic^ finb diele
5lîâibeute ju fiird)ten. ©elbft don ben brei 2)erfud)eu î)Jîontgolfierâ ift tciner
doUîommen reiiffiert." (s-inige ïl>od)en fpater fd)reibt er au ^aoater : „®rgb^en
S)id) nid)t aud) bie 8uftfa{)rer ? ^d) mag ben DJlenfi^en gar jn gerne fo etldaâ
gônnen. S^eiben : ben Êrfinbern unb ben 3nf'^i"'i'^^'"'"
5lm 4. g^ebruar 1784 fann 2Bielanb an 9Jlerd melben :
,,§eute 3tknb ï]at ber ^erjog tu feiner O^rau Wuiin .^aufe gum erften ^aU cum
72 UEUTSCHER TEIL [392]
siiccessn einen ïleinen Suftbatl auo Ccf)ïen(iïaîenftetgen laffen. (Sr (ber Saïï iuimli(ï))
f(og U§ on bie ®ecfe unb Uerfuc^te, ficï) burc^âubo^ren ; WiiVè abex utcf)t anging,
3eigte mon tr)nt enbïicï) ben SSeg juv Sur ï)inau§, er flog eine ïreppe I)inauf unb ftieg
ï)t§ in bie 3!)lûnfarbe."
^erjogin 5ïmalie fd^rieî) ont 22. gebruar an fyrûu 9îût ©oetf)e in g^rantfurt,
bie oft bergeèenê nad^ 2Beimar ©ingetabene :
,,3Bie gefàïïcn ^f^nen, Ite6e 53h:tter, bie Sufireifen, bie je^t OJlobe tnerben ? 9îi(ï)t
lua^r, baë lucir' eine Suft, Uienn ^rau 5tia [ic^ in ber Suft trau'jportieren unb ï)ei mit
in Siefurt ,,au§ Sliften l)oiï), ba ïomm ii^ ïjev I" fingen flinute ! ÏIhi§ baê fiir ein
©aubinm fein tonxbi !"
5lnc{) tiei bem fterii^mten î)latui-forfd)er ©ommeving in .^ûficl [jat eê ©oett)e
mit bem Suft^all ju tun. ^n\n ft^retbt: „3m September tune ©iietf)e (lier, unb
ha ^atte id) fd)on einen ^tubuâ oon fiinfuiertel (Sûen in ber 3ïrbeit. S)er gute
93îûnn fjaïf mir nod) fiiUen, atlein bie Ubereilnng mac^te ben i^erfnd) nid)t
geïingen."
?catilrlid) ftritt man fid^ fe^r balb iiber bie 33îittel, biefe Snftfd)iffe jn lenfen,
nnb natUrlid) bemiefen einige ï)aar|d)arf, baf] foId)e Sentbarîeit in aller
3uîunft unmijglid) fei. llnter ben il^erniinftigen luar ber §erauêgcber be§
„îeutfd)en lUerfurS", ÎBietanb. Êr antmortete 9Jterd am 3. ^anuar 1783 :„®a^
ïlMnner mie (sljarteS nnb ^^piïatre be ^Koficr bie S)ireftion ber Cnftballe nic^t
fiir nnmbglid) t)a(ten nnb fid) mirtlid) mit ^luflijfnng biefe§ nnftreitig
bod)ft fomplijicrten problème abgcben, fdieint mir feine geringe 3Sal)rid)ein=
ïidjfeit 5n innolDieren, ba^ man mit ber 3eit bud) not^ mol)( bajn ïommen
tônnte, tDenigftenê einen 5leit ber (£d)iinerigtciten, bie bie S)trettion nnmbglid)
5U mad)en fd}einen, 5U iiberminben. ^d) fpredie trcilid) mie ein Saie non ber
(Sadie,"
Napoléon I. und der Buchstabe M.
Ein englischer Journalist ist aiif den Gedanken gekommen, deni
Eintliif^ des Buchstai)ens M auf Napoléon 1. nachzuforschen. Marengo war
demnach die erste gror^e Schiachl, die von Bonaparte gewonnen wiirde.
Moskau war das Grab seines Riihmes. Maria Luise war ihm als Gattin
angetraut. Seine Marscliâlle (Masséna, Marmont, Macdonald, Murât,
Moncey, Mortier) und 26 Divisionsgenerale hatten Nainen, die mit M
anfingen. Die erste leindliche Hauptstadt, die cr als Siéger betrat, war
Mailand, die letzte Moskau. Malet konspirierte gegen ihn, dann spiiter
Marmont. Sein erster Kanzler war Montesquieu, sein letzter Aufenlhalt
in Frankreich das Schlofî La Malmaison. Er vertraute sich dem Kapitiin
Mailland an und wurde von Montliolon nach St. Helena begleitet. Sein
Kammerdiener auf der einsamen Insel hieft Marchand. Mortier war einer
seiner besten Générale. Moreau verriet ihn, und Murât starb als Màrtyrer
lûr seine Sache.
Les Cinq Langues
N" 10.
20 Février 1908.
8° Année.
DEUTSCHER TEIL
^ottiç) (îarïoé \>on Portugal utt& ï)cr ^Oronfolgcr crmorbct.
gifîabon, 2. S-cbnmv. — Sie ïoniglii^e O^amilie ïefirtc geftcnt abenb, im offeneu
SEBageii faï)venb, uom Si^toB 23illa 3]içofa nacE) Siffabon ,5urucf.
©er.Ronig, bie ,Jî5nigiu unb ber ^vonprinj fciBen im erften SOagen, ber enfant Sont
ÎOlanuel mit einigeii ^alnftlinirbentragern
im 5iueiten. 9(Iê ber 3ug Dor ber '•^^raca bo
Çommercio anïam, brac^ plo^ïicÇ ein mit
einem ^oroÊiner deUiaffneter $ÏRann burd^
bie gjlenge unb fdjoB ûuf ben J?onig.
2Hê biefer ©(^i:^ abgegeben tourbe, lier=
]\\é)it bie -Sonigiu, ben fironpriujen gegen
3Uiei anbere JBeumffnete, bie fic^ gegen i^n
ricf)teten, ju fd)ii^en ; ber ^ronprin^ ober
ftnnb im SDBagen tnif unb berteibigte fic^
ïelbft mutig mit feinem ©tocî. ^pto^Iid^
unirben neue ©djiiffe iiernommen, unb ber
firouprinj fanf, toblicf) beriuunbet, nieber.
Saut um §ilfe rufenb, beugte fic^ bie
.Konigin ù6er i^n ; Balb, nai^bem er il^ren
(e^ten fiuB empfnngen ïjatte, berfc^ieb er.
S)er .^bnig inar ben auf if)n abgegebenen
©cï)iiffen jofort erlegen.
®er .Sonig erf)ielt brei jîugeïn, eine in
ben 3facîen, bie 3tiieite in bie ©d^ulter unb
bie britte in ben §)aï§. 2e|tere burdfifc^Iug
bie Sdjlngabcr ^ unb fli^rte ben Sob bevbei.
S)er iîronprinj erï)ielt cBenfaïïê brei ^ngeïn in ^D^if unb 23ruft. 3nfatit DJlanuel
tourbe am ^inn unb am 2lrm Oertounbet. 51B mau mit bem ^onig im ïllarinearfenal
eintraf, toar er bereitê tôt, ber ^ronprina ïedte ,5toar noc^, Derfd^ieb aber alêbolb. ®ie
^bnigin unb enfant 931anuel begaben fief) um ' Uf)r suritd iu§ Scfjlofe. ®er '^ia% Cor
bem 5DtarineariennI, bivi 9îatbauê unb bie 'ïàawl ton Portugal [inb mitititrifc^ befe^t.
©raf O^ranciôLO t^igucira, ber Crbonnau3offi3ier beê ^onigâ, ber ju 3^UB neben bem
2Bagen ^crging, tbtete burc§ einen ©d^uB einen ber ^onigêmorber, ein Spoïi3eibeamter
einen anbcren in ber D^al^e be§ 9îatï)aufeê.
1. artère.
6%^
\
■bfe
4
'
jK*''
É
'wM
1
^^n
Jl
ilbiiiii (iarloà.
[55]
ALLEk . 10
74 DEUTSCHER TEIL [^34]
Die Vereinigten Staaten von Brasilien.
Il
Ûberblick ùber die Geschichte Brasiliens.
Einer ehrwûrdigen Uberlieferung* zufolge ward Brasilien bereits uni 1488
von Jean Cousin, einem Schiffer ans Dieppe, entdeclit, aber leider ist dièse
Reise durch kein einziges, zuverlassiges^, historisches Dokiimenlbeglaubigl -K
Jedenfalls hinterlielien weder Jean Cousin nocli die Kupitane, die ihm bahl
folgten,irgendwelche Spuren* der Zivilisation,und die kûhnen Seefahrer sind
deshalb nur.von geringer BedeuLung fiir die Geschichle des Landes. Erst
Pedro Alvarez Cabrai — obgleich der Zeit nach erlieblich ^ spiiter — kann in
Wahrheit als « Entdecker » Brasiliens bezeichnet werden. Mit einer Flolte
von dreizehn Schiffen landele er ini Jahre d550, kniipfte mit den Eingebore-
nen Unterhandiungen '■ an und ergriffim Namen von l'orlngal Besitz von deni
neuen Gebiet.
Indessen vollzog sich die portugiesische Rolonisalion nur sehr langsam,
denn Portugal, damais in der Bliite seines Gedeihens, kiimmerte sich nur
wenig um seine neueste Kolonie. Jedenfalls wollte es aber verhindern, da6
sie andere sich zunuLze machten. i)ie portugiesischen Schiffe fochten denn
auch erbittert gegen fi-emde Fahrzeuge, vor allem gegen franzôsische Kauf-
fahrer, die es versuchton, mit den Indianern llandelsbeziehungen anzu-
knûpfen, denn sowohi den Franzosen wie den Ilollandern gcliistete es, in
Brasilien festen Fuê zu lassen.
Die erste franzôsische Expédition, von der ein oflizieller Bcricht vorliegt,
war die von Paulmier de Gonneville ans Dieppe im Jahre 1504. Sein Schiff
war, als es heimkehrte, mit kostitaren Hôizern und seltenen Schiitzen bela-
den. Aber angesichts der franzôsischen Kiiste von Seeriiubern bedroht, zer-
schellte ' ères an den Felsen von Jersey und versenkte die ganze Ladung**. Sein
MiÊgeschick schreckte die normannischen Kauffabrer nicht ab, und unge-
achtet der Bedrohung von seitcii der portugiesischen Fahrzeuge, blieben sie
wiihrend der ganzen ersten Halfte des 16. Jahrhunderts in Handelsbezie-
hungen mit den brasilianischen Eingeborenen. Dièse Beziehungen wurden
sogar so lebhafle, und die Indianer stellten sich so freundlich zu den Hiind-
lern, dafi der Kônig von Frankreich, Heinrich H., sich endiich entschloA —
von Coligny ermutigt — eine oftizielle Expédition unter dem Befehl von
Villegaignon auszusenden, um in Bi-asilien eine dauei-nde libci-aus aussichts-
reiche^ franzôsische Niederlassung '" zu griinden.
Im Jahre 1555 von Dieppe ausgesegeit, traf Villegaignon einigeMonate spater
in der Bai von Ganaltara (Bai von llio) ein und haute ein Fort auf der Insel,
die heule seinen Namen triigt. Ungliicklicherweise l)eeintràchligteni' bald die
vom Gouverneur selbst begangenen Fehler den Ei-folg seines (înternehmens.
Brutal gegen seine Gelahrten imd anma&end '- gegen die Indianer, vei-anlahte
er Empôrung unter den einen und die Flucht dei- anderen . Durch seine begeis-
terten Berichte'^ war es ihm gegUickt, eine Gruppe von Genfer Protestantcn
fur dieKolonie zu gewinnen, indem er ihnen in Aussicht stellle, in Brasilien
fiir ihren Glauben vvirken zu diirfen. Aber bald zeigte er sich ihnen gegeniiber
trotzseinerVersprechungen von so strenger Unduldsamkeil'S dafi sie die Kolo-
nie verlassen muÊten. Enlmutigt durch seine geringen Erfolge und von dem
Wunsche beseelt, nach Frankreich zuriickzukehren, um an den Religions-
kriegen teilzunehmen, verliefi Villegaignon einigeZeit spater Brasilien. Seine
1. tradition. — 2. dujne de foi. — 3. confirmé. — 4. traces. — 5. sensiblement. —
6. négociations. — 7. fit échouer. — 8. cargaison. — 9. riche de promesses. — 10.
établissement. — 11. contrarièrent, firent tort à. — 12. arrot/ant. — 13, rapports. —
14. intolérance.
[435] DKLTSCHER TEIL 75
Machtbefugnisse'^ iibertruger seinem unfahigen Neffen Bois le Comte. Seine
Ahreisc gab der fraiizôsischen Niederlassung den Todesstofi. Bald setzten sich
die Portugiesen in ihren«Be?itz. Im Jahre 1612 wurde ein nouer Versuch von
Maranhao gemaclit, aber auch dièse Kolonie fiel nach giinsligen Antangen in
die Ilande der Portugiesen. Im Beginn des 18. .Jahrhundei'ts endlich eroberte
Duguay-Trouin — von Ludwig XIV. ausgesandt — Rio, gab es aber gcgen
Lôsegeld "^ frci. Es war im Ounde nur eine ruhmi'eicbe tVanzosische Wafîenlat,
ohne sonderliehen Eintluli auf die Geschiclile Brasiliens.
Dagegen halle die hollandische Okkupation im .labre 1624 nachbaltige*'
Foigen fiir das Geschick des Landes. Man kann sie in zwei Phasen einteilen.
Wiilirend der crsten dehnea die Hollander, fast immer siegreich, ihre Erobe-
rungen weiter und weiter aus ; nach weniger als siebzehn .lahren gehôrlcn
ihnen schon 300 Meilcn Kiistenland und sicben von den vierzehn damais beste-
henden Statthaltereien (1641). In der zweiten Phase verlicrcn die Hollander
nacb und nach aile errungenen Vorteile, und 1649 gelioric ihnen nur noch
die Ilauptstadt Becife ihrer einst grofien Besitzungen. Im .labre 1654 falll
auch dieser Ort in die Hiinde der Portugiesen, und Brasilien ist auf immer von
fremder Oborherrschat't bet'reit.
Wahrend sich so die Portugiesen endgiltig die Oberherrschaft iiber Bra-
silien sicherten, waren seit dem Ende des 16. .lahrhunderts kiihne Entdecker
ins Innere gedrungen und zeichneten sich die Paulisten oder Bewohner von
Sao Paulo aus. Sie wurden zu wahren Pionieren Brasiliens, im Innernund im
Siiden des Beiches. Sie erobertendie ganze heutige ProvinzBio Grande do Sul,
\vo die Jesuiten von Paraguay sich angesiedelt hatten, und griindeten die
ersten-Niederlassungen von Minas-Geraes, von Goyaz, von Matto-Grosso und
Santa Catharina.
[Fortsetzung folgt.)
Prof. !)'■ A. Fischer.
(Osterrelchisoke Handelssckul-Zeiiung.)
15. pouvoirs;. — 16. rawon. — 17. dauerhaft.
î^nt @cfd)id)tc ïtcr Aîodirunft.
@ë ift eine lange ^t'xi iiergangeit, feitbeiu ber ftad'ernbe 9fîeij'igï)aitf eu ' ber ,^orf)pïa^
ber alten 33oIfer Unu-, aw bem fie in Sopfen, bie an ©tangen iifjer ben 3^Iamnten f)tngen,
iï)re ©^.leife îo(l)tcn ober fie am eifrig gebvef)ten ©piefe brieten. (frft mit ber feften
23el)aniung cntftanb ber -S^erb, ber ettiiaé ert)bf)te '•^tatj liber bem 93oben, auf bem ben
©bttern geopfert unb ber O^amitie baê 9Jlaf)I bereitet uiurbe. ©onne, 5)loub uub 8terne
gaben bie aSelenc^tnng, unb ha, \vo eiue §iitte iiber bem |)erb fic^ toolbte, lie^ etn
runbeê Sod) im Sac^, baé 2Btnbange, ba§ Si($t ber ©eftiriie etn unb ben 3ïantf|
f)tnau§.
©0 f)ie[ten eê aucf) unfere îlîtdprberu. Sei ben ©ermaneu bereitete baê 33îei6 am
§erb bie 5hrf)rung, bie foft auôfcfjIieBÏic^ ^agbbeute mar. Dbft unb ©emiife uiareu
unbeïannt. SUë §aucttere, bereu 3^Ieif(î) man geno^, luurben âuerft nur §unbe, fpciter
©cfinieine geî)aften. S)ie eiujige g^elbfruc^t toar |)afer, auè bem man eineu fteifen Sret -
bereitete, ber hit ©telle beê SBroteê Dertrat. 3tlé (Setrdnïe bienten nur SÔaffer unb 3Jlet,
auë ïi^affer uub .f)onig bereitet. 9)tan tranf auê 2ier()Druern ober ben ©d^abeln
erfcf)ïageuer f^-etube, bev 3;ifiï) luar eine toenig erf)of]te ©teiuplatte, t)Or ber man auf
g^eaen fa^. 93teffer unb ®abd fannte man nic^t, fonbern jerrife ba§ Sleif<^ ^nit ben
1. 3îeiftg __ brindilles. — 2. bouillie épaisse.
76 DEUTSCHKR TEIL [436]
gingern ; mit einem boïd^ûrtigen 501effer, ba§ man im ©iirtel tntg, trennte mon ftc^
Don ben groÊen t^feifd^ftûcïen ïleinere ab. Saê 8tef)Iingôgericf)t \vax ber ©berbraten^ ben
bie ïûfinen ^dger autf) in SSaUjalIe'^ liditen §D^en ju jd^maufen f)offten.
Sangfam enttoidfelte fic^ auê biefer primitioen ©peifebereitung bie "^eutige ^o(ï)ïnnft.
2Ste bie§ gefc^a^, ergafjlt une fe^r ïii'ibfcE) ba§ CênabriicEer ï)iftoriïd^e ^ocfibucf),* baê
aie ©rinnerung an bie Dênabriicfer ^oc^funftauêfteftung l^erauègegeBen tourbe unb in
bem bie §erauêge6erin giicilie ïlîeljer natï) oiten Slbbilbungen unb 3te3eptbiiiï;ern un3
ein fefir anf(î)auli(ï)e§ SBilb ber lîoc^îunft ber dlteften 3eit. ber lafelfreuben im 9Jlitteï=
aïter unb ben allmaf)licï)en llmfil)Uiung •' ber non ber 9laï)rung§mitteiïet)re beeinflufeten
mobernen .Koiïimeife gtbt. SÛir erfaf)ren barauê, toie Diele ^aîtoren sufammen toirïen
OTufeten, um bie reid^befe^te Safeï Don ^eute auftanbe gu brtngen. Sa iibten 3uerft bie
^taliener einen grofeen (Sinflufe au§, beren f)errf(^enbe Sitteu bei ben mit grofeem
^Prunï gefeierten -iîaiferfrbnungen ber beutjcfjen -fêbnige in 9iont jeber^eit maBgebenb
toareit ^.
SSon JRom brac^ten bie Seutfd^en bie lîer.îe unb bie OUampe mit, beren Sic[}t ben
bamalê Sebenben ueben i^rem .fiienjpan "^ gemife lion ebenfo blenbenber §elle erf(^ien,
trie une §eutigen bie Sid^ifiiOe eincr elettri^cfien SSogenlampe neben einer Iparlic^en"
©aêftamme. 3(ud} ben ©tuf)(, bie SBeden unb bie <S(^aïen brac^te man afè neuen
§)auêrat mit, U)df)renb bie îafel felber bur(^ @eunir3e toie ^^feffei" unb ©afran unb
bur(^ neue ©emitfe unb g^ritcfjte in (Seftalt non Spargel, ^o^I, ©urfcn, 5JleIonen,
SJtanbeïn, Stpriîoff" """^ SSirnen bereid^ert murbe.
3tud^ bie ^reu,5faï)rer '^ bratï)ten auê bem ïllorgentanbc nid^t nur 2Baffenruf)m unb
aOSunben, jonbern iîulturgiïter t)eim. ©eit fie im Orient bie 2lnuef)mUd^ïeiten bt§
Sabeô fenuen geternt bûtten, entftanben aucfi in beutfd^en ©tdbteu bie a?abcftubcn. 33on
©amoèfuô aber brac^ten bie .»îîreu;,fa^rer 931aiê, 9îcté unb Surfer. Slmbra unb 2Beif)=
Toud^, ©euiiirsnelïen '" unb DJhiêfatniiffe mit.
SJlit bem fteigenben SSoîjIftanb 30g aud^ baê 2Bo()(Ieben ein ; uicf)t nur an g^iirften;
"^ofen unb auf Stitterburgen, audf) in ©tdbten unb iîloftern t)errfd^te aSobûeben. 3leben
ben une beïannten 23raten unb ©eflûgeï uenuenbete mon autf) baè (îleifc^ non ÏCifent",
©teinbocï'-, §unbeigel''; man briet itranidOe '% DJtooen '■' unb Sto^rbommetn "^, unb
ber ^fau burfte atè Sd^augerirfit auf teiner ©atatafeï fet^Ien.
3)ie Ûppigfeit ber Sebenémeife 3eigt ein SBeridC)t Uber ben 3)erbraucl) am §ofe Cttoê
beê ©ro^en. ®ort nnirben tdgtidf) 1 000 ©d^lueine unb ©d^afe, ad^t Od^fen, 3e'^n {Cuber
SBein, ebenfoniel Sier, 1000 ïllalter ©etreibc, auf;erbem Dieïe S^erîel, {Çifd^e, .sjiibner,
©ier unb basu fiir :{0 '^funb Silber Côemûfe i'er3ebrt. "^lan batte nur ^mi 5Jlabl3eiten ;
um 3ef)n lU)r morgens na^m man bie |)auptmab(3eit ein, um fedf)ë llf)r uac^mittagê
bie SIbenbmabIseit,
S)ie îlabruugêmittelpreife im 13. 3at)rbii»bert luarcn freilid^ erfjebltdfi niebriger aie
jc^t; bie ÎRanbcï''' ©ter ïoftete ^xon ^^fennig, ein §u^n slnei pfennig, eine 3!Jianbel
§eringe ein pfennig, ein Od^fe 00 pfennig. 5lber aud^ bamalê gingen bie ^reife rapib
in bie Ç'ib^e, benn nur 3Uiei 3abrf)unberte fpdter ïoftete bas '^^funb Sîinbfteifdf) fd^on
brei biê nier ^^Pfennige, baê ^funb ,fta(bfleifdf) fogar fedf)â ^Pfennige.
®ie ^iinfte beé lîot^eê — benn bie ©peifebereitung ïag je^t meiftenê in mannïid^en
§dnben — beftanb in ber mi3gtid^ft rei(^ndf)en 3Intt)enbung non ©en)iir3en. @in un§
erf)aïteuer ©peife3etteï bon einer brei Sage long gefeierten ©inixieibung einer ^ird^e im
^ai)Xi 1303 Jucift fotgenbe ©erid^te "* auf : ,,5tm erften 2age trug man auf : Sierfuppe
• ClnabtiidEeï l^iftorifd^eâ ^od^ïmi^. Q. &. Aîtêïing, €§nabriidE.)
3. rôti de sanglier. — 4. SBalbûHa, séjour dès dieux. — 5. transformation. — 6. don-
naient le ton. — 1. bûchette de bois résineux. — 8. modeste. — 9. croisés. — 10. clous
de girofle. — 11. vison. — 12. bouquetin. — 13. hérisson. — 14. grues. — 15. mouettes.
— 16. butors. — n. quinzaine. — IS. plats.
[437] DEUTSCHER TEIL 77
mit ©afron, «Pfefferforner mit C)onig, ^irfebrei i», ©d^afffeifd^ mit ^toiebeïn, geï)ratene§
fmïin mit 3>Petfc^en, ©tocïftfc^ -" mit £)f unb JRofinen'-', in £)t geBacfene 93ïeie --, gef ottener
3lar-3 mit ^^feffer, geroftete $8iicf(iuge-'^ mit ©enf, faner gefottenev ©peiiefifc^, gebactene
Sarbe, fleine iUigel in ©djmalj'-' î)artgebacîen, mit 9îetti(^, ©(^lueinefeute mit ©urîen -''\
— 2tm 3ineiten 2age nntrben aufgetragcn : gierïuc^en mit §onig unb ÏBalberbbeeren,
getiQcïener §ering, ïleine 3^ifc|e mit Oîofincn, aufgetoarmte SSteie, gebratene ©anë mit
roten 9ti\6en,gefat3ene Çetfite^^ mit ^eterfilie.Salat mit ©iern.Saûert^» mit ÎDÎanbeïn,"
aCir tonnten unfere 2}orfaf)ren nm i^re SKagen Oeneiben, bie fo(^ eiu Snrctjcinanber,
noi^ bûju in gro^en 5Jlengen, Oertragen ïonnten. ^reilirf), unfere 3u"9S moi^ten mir
i^nen Uiof)l nic^t ba,5u auêgeborgt ^aben.
®ie fé^recflid^en 30 ^riegêjaljre mad^ten in ®eutfcfjïanb aïïer ^rafferei^a ein gnbe. 2llê
ber ©c^effel Dîoggen brei ©ulben, ein Saib 23rot einen ®uïaten ïoftete, l^orte aûe
^oc^funft auf. ®a bacfte mon 33rDt auê jerma^lenen @ic^eln unb afe geïoc^te Dteffein ^"i
@raê, Seber, ©rbe, 3Jaumrinbe, Sarme unb ©d^neden. Unb bie bnngrigen Cbbacf)Iofen
ftritten fic^ um baè tyteifc^ frepierter ^ferbe, um §unbe unb ^a^en.
Sltlmaljlii^ ïam mit bem g^rieben ein befd^eibener SCSo^lftanb ^uritrf, aber aller
Ûberftu^ toar berfd^tounben, alle§ mar fd^mucîtoê unb einfa(^. ^nx bie 9leic^en agen
je^t taglic^ O^Ieifc^, ber 5JlitteIftanb ernd^rte fic^ bon g^elbfriic^teu, .iîartoffein unb
©pedf.
Sine 35erfeinerung erfutjr bie ^iidfie non ^^ranfreic^ ûuô ; bie fran^ofifcfjen ^ocfie
fuc^ten ifiren (Sfjrgeij barin, moglicEift ïomptigierte ©eri($te sufammenâuftetlen. 5ia(|
unb nac^ macEiten fitf) internationale ©infliiffe in ber iîoc^funft geltenb, bie ^eute burd^
ben grofeen 9îeifet)erïe!^r noc§ ertoeitert toerben, fo bafe jebeâ 95oIï neben feinen natio=
naïen aud^ frembtiinbifiïie ©eric^te in ben Iîiid[)en3ettet aufgenommen ï)at. Saô Oêna=
briidfer f)i[torifc^e .lîod^bud^ trcigt aber .juerft ber ©igenart 3îec^nung unb neben att=
nieberfdd^fifdOen bringt e§ aud^ neuere nteberfdd^fifdfic .lîocfire^epte, bie un§ fremb genug
anmuteu. Ser te^te ïeit beê 23u(^eë bringt benn aucE) ein bunteô 2tUerIei Don ©erid^ten
au§ atten Sanbern, etloaê ilber ^od^ïunft in ben Sro^jen, iiber Degetarifd^e ^iid^e, iiber
alfoï)oIfreie ©etrûnfe unb gum ©dfilufe eine 3In,3af)ï praïtifdf^er Dîatfd^Iage fiir bie
$8ef)anbtung unb Stufbeiua^rung ber !:)faf)rungêmittel. ®aê a3ui^, baê burc^ uiete
trefflid^e SUuftrationen ge,5iert ift, bietet tiielfeitige Stnregung unb 5SeIef)rung.
(§auë, §of, ©arten.)
19. bouillon de millet. — 20. morue. — 21. raisins de Corinlhe. — 22. brème. — 23.
anguille. — 24. harengs. — 25. saindoux. — 26. concombres. — 27. brochets. — 2S.
- 29. bombance. — 30. orties.
motUnK
„2Baè nur babrinnen ber (Srauîopf \\\ùà:)t \
(gr blâttert Bici tief in bie fpcite ?locf)t
^n ûlteti Siidjern {)in itnb f)er,
5l(§ ob brin tuaâ ^u finben ludr'.
Si fieï) ! er ift ja nirf)t jn ^^anè,
§ent fpUr' ic^ fein ®et)eimnio anè."
din ©pa^Iein piept's nnb fliegt f)tnein ;
5)a ïiegen 33i'icf)er tjro^ unb ftein ;
1. mites.
78 DEUÏSCHEK TEIL [438]
(Sr Uiaf)ït haè grotte mit 99eba(ï)t
Itnb i)at aiie 33ldttern fit^ gemad)t.
„33ergtlbt- ^^apiev itiib nrg beflectt!
Wod)V unîfen, uui ber 2Bert ba ftccft.
2)ocf) ()ûït!" — 8ein Un(\cô 'Huçilein bïiljt,
®r l)at fein S(^nabïein fiinî i]ejpit;t.
„3tuet ïHotten 1 unb lute grof] unb fcift-' !"
i^egiertg l)at er fie tierfpcift
Unb piept : ,3er Ijcitte ha^j gebadit,
3)af] bcr aitd) ^sci(\(> «uf 'Hhitteu niarf)t." —
^iiïiuê ©tiinn.
2. jauni. — 3. grasses.
Musikalisches aus Dresden.
Zum 9. Januar 1908 (Lilli Lehmann-Abend).
Zu den interessaiitesten Konzerten, deren jede Saison in iinserer Sladt
eine Menge gcgeben Averden, geliôren ohne Zweif'el die Lieder-Abende.
Namen wie Hedwig Schweicker, ïiierese Schnabel-Behr, Elena Ger-
hardt, Jiilia Ciilp, Luise Ottermann, usvv., sind jedes Jahr verlreten und
entziïcket) durch ihre herrlichen Stimmen, durch ihre schone Kiinst
immer von neiiem.
Einen ganz besonderen Genul'^ aber gewâhrte uns am 9. Januar der
Liederabend der unvergleichlichen Lilli Lehmann. Eine sehr zahlreiche
Zuhôrerschaft batte sich trotz der unangenelimen Januarwitterung lui
« Vereinsbaussaal » eingefunden um ihre lebhafte Freude zu bezeiigen,
daft es ihnen wiederum vergônnt war, die « grofie Lilli » in Dresden zu
begrùfien, und um der so beliebten Sangerin begeisterten Beif'all zuzu-
jauchzen.
Ja, Lilli Lehtnann istfiirwahr ein erstaunenswertes Wesen. Trotz ihrer
60 Jahre bat sie noch ein Organ wie man es heutzutage fast nicht mehr
iindet, und mil welcbem sie eine Kunst vercint, die geradezu i)e\vun-
dernswei't ist, und die ziun grôbteu Teil ihrer fabelhalten intelligenz
entsprossen ist.
Hehr wie eine Kouigin stelit sie da, stolz ihr durchgeistigtes ilaiipt mit
den grauen Haaren erhebend, die schwarzen, seelenvollen,klugen Augen
leuchten ; — mit der Hechten stùtzt sie sicb Icicht aiif den Flûgel '. . .
Jetzt neigt sie leicht ihr Haupt nach riickwarts und beginnt.
l^ieder von Schubert, Schiimann, Franz, Straub, ailes singt sie hin-
reilsend schôn ; sei es dramatisch, sei es schelmisch, sei es sch\ver, sei es
leicht ! Jeder Ton der aus ihrem Munde quillt ist gevvollt, durchdacht,
« grofi » im vielseitigsten Sinne des Wortes,
Wenn sie am Schlusse des herrlichen Liedes « Im Herbst » von Franz,
singt : « Mein Lieb ist l'alsch, o wiire ich tôt ! » so driickt nicht niu" die
Stimine,sondern auchdas Antlitz dergrofeen Sangerin wildeVerzweillung
1 . piano.
[439j DKl ISCHER TKIL 79
ans, ihr Haupt sinkt nach vorn. . . iind den Lauscher diirchschauert's,
u es ergreift ihn mit wildem Weh ! »...
Dagegen , wie anders, wie herzigklingt das « Rôseiein » von Sclmmann,
wie reizend singt sie ziiletzt : « Merk' Dir' s fein. . . Dorniôselein niïissen
sein ! » sie lâchelt dabei nnd schûttelt mehrere Maie wissend den Kopf, —
Das « Stândchen » von Straufi ist verklungen, das letzte Lied ; nun aber
bricht solch stûrmischer Beifall unter der Menge hervor, dafi raan meint,
der Saal musse vom Rufen, Jauchzen, Fui^stampfen schier- znsammen-
brechen. Bkimen lliegen aut' das Podium, mit Taschentùchern, Spitzen-
shawls, Programmen, sogar mit Opernglâsern winken die Begeisterten
dergrofien Sângerin zu, und das Làrmen verstummt nur als dièse wieder
vor den Fliigel tritt um die ersehnte Ziigabe zu singen, um dann lauter
als je hervorzubrechen.
Eine, zwei, drei Zugaben ; die Lichler werden zum Teil veiiôscht und
noch immer verharren diejubelnden Zuhôrer auf ihrem Platz ; viele
stehen dichtgedràngt hart am Podium wohin sie geeilt um der grofien
Kùnstlerin sonalials môglicb zusein. Da tutsichdie Tiireaufunddie Herr-
liche erscheint zum letzten Maie ; mit strahlendem Lâcheln und vollen-
deter Grazie verneigt sie sich dankend, wieder und wieder. Nun erst ver-
lâi'^t die Menge den Saal.
Ich aber dacbte still : « \S'elch ein Triumph, und \\e\ch verdienter
Triiimpli mit 60 Jahren ! Môgen wir dankbar sein, dab wir noch solch
ein Vorbild echtester und edelster Gesangskunst haben ; moge es uns ver-
gônnt sein der grôfiten Sângerin noch oft einen solchen Triumph zu
bereiten ! »
Edith-Therese Scuilsky.
Dresdeii, Jaiiiiar 1908.
2. fasl.
^ctî)cnto5 *.
II
Sîer ©tofj, ber bie 3i'ïiirfîifeiî'enbcn erfiUItc, fd)ieu bie ^urfc^cti iiidit ^u
Iiejeelen, f)od)ftenâ bie icenigen, bie fiel) mit inelen ©c^napfen ' einen 9iaufc() -
antjetrunîen t)atten nnb nnn joljlten, cutimrebig^ litrmten unb grofee ©ebdrben
niûc^ten. 5111e ilbrigen ftanben tcaurig, luortfarg, mit geroiirgten <^et)ïen bû nnb
blicften bang. ?(ncf) ber ilUrf)ûI Cobid'i. 3t)nx wax fef)r luel) lunè .'perj, nnb bie
^dlfte feineS 23tnte§ I)âtte er gern l)ingege5en, nm bteiben ju bitvfen.
3cania, mein ^erjdjen ! ^Jianta, mein armeô, fii^eô Srantd)en ! SJiania,-
mein geliebteS, ïteineS îdnbc^en," ftammeltc er oft unb oft mit blaffen Sippen
unb ftretd)elte baâ blonbe Içaax be§ 93tdbd)enê.
„?lber, ^tnber," meinte ber aïte Sefc^ïo, „tt)arum loirb benn ^ier jo grdfîlic^
gejammert? Psia krew, id) înar aud) ein jnuger 23urfd)e unb ©olbatunb t)abe
bie 3:iirfeu get)aut, fo iLia[)r id) (Sott liebe, in [ycljen '- gel)aut nnb bin I)eil nnb
gefunb ^nriidgefommen. S)er élidjai luirb noc^ fd)neller mit ben %elbm^i'oi)m
*@iel)e bie ciev ûnbein îeile.
1. @(|nûp§ = jau-de-vie. — 2. légère ivresse, a poiule ». — 3. d'un air faofarou. —
4. pièces.
80
DEUTSCHER TEIL
[440J
fertig tt)erben, al§ id) mit ben frummen S^ûrîen. £), in eincm ^a^xî i[t n
iDieber bei une, DJlanio, mein S:oiï)tercf)en."
„2Senn id) aBer fterBe ober ein .^riippeP lt)erbe? D, lî)aê bann?" fragte
3)lic^al biifter.
S)û fd)rie bie 9Jlania auf unb umfi^tang benSSrautiQûumoiï) fefter. „^)}H(ï)at,
50ltrf)at I"
S)ie âatiû abcr erîliirte tiif)n : „®in .s;^elb barf and) alS ^i1i|.i|)el 5urud=
îommen, ï)or[t bn, 93Ud)aL Unb barauf nmfjen ûïïe bann nnr ftolj fein. 3f(^
iDûrbe eê gewif? fein amb bid) biê anâ SeBenêenbe pflecjen, jo lDal)c id) eine
braoe (S()riftin bin unb bie -Spilfe ber gutcn ^eiligen .braud)e. Unb luer anber§
benït "
Sad)enb fiel i()r ber alte £efd)to in§ SSort : „58ei @otte§ 2)onner, glaubft bu
benn, «^atja ©arolmcj, ic^ tnn ein fd)led)terer 6t)ri[t ? Sei mir \mïh ber ?3H(^aI
ïeben, oh er gcfunb ober tranî jnriirffomnit.^tic^t \val)x., 5tôd)teri^en, bei nn§?"
®ie SJlania fc^ïud)5te jn ungeftiim^ um antlDortcn ^u îonnen, <Sie nidte Uo^
fe^r nac^briirflict) ',
3l6er ba erfd)Dtt ber te^te ^fiff. yinn ï)ie|3 e§: cinfteigen\
Unb inenicje 2lugent)ïirfe fpciter Umren ber 93Ud)al unb feinc ^anieraben btn
rotgeweiuten 5lut3en ber 3iti''ûd9et)liebenen ent|(^luuuben.
(g^ortfe^ung foigt.)
{yricbrid) SBerner imn Oeftéren,
5. estropié. — 6. violemineul. — 1. d'une manière expressive. — 8. en voilure.
Strtïicnifd)C ^oft.
„9îomreife=Srinnerun(]eu eineci ©d)n(mei[terâ" betitclt [id) ein ®ebi(^t5l)flu§
in ber .sl-)aUnnonat§]d)rift „®ie ^ar|)atf)en" ; an§ ben l)unuiruoIIen i^crfen biefeè
&tompili]erê fcien bie uad)foI(3enben iiber bie ïulinari|d)en ©eniiffe 3ftûlien§
t)ier uncbergcgeben :
Sanb, \m man ba^:i ^a^t^en Unirftet '
Unb bie 93htnneltiere fel($t'-,
2C8o ber ©ûumen maiicï)inal bûrftel,
So(ï) baê Stuge trinft unb fc{)>i)clgt,
2Bo mau Seinbl-' gu Soniateii,
^noblauc^ 311 fRifotto '► ïriegt,
2Bd bie ïlîad[)tiga[( gcbratcn
3tï)eiibê in ber '^-^ûnne liegt,
2Ô0 inan anâ) beô 2:intenfifcï)eê-^
.Kuttel3eug ^ ()inunter toûrgt,
®D(ï) fur ©ïitc jcbcê 2:if(î)eê
^flanjentoft unb $ïrol)fiuu bûrgf 1
iSiaè ba fliegt, bas U)irb gegeffen,
2Saè ba fc^iuimmt, ec tutrb berje^rt —
©elbftberftcinblti^ ïommt inbcffen
3tud^ Waè îxahhelt ouf ben .s^erb.
ÎCaô nur fe^iefe&ar, mirb gefdjoffen,
SSaë nur fangbar, uiirb gefife^t,
ïï&aè geniefetmr, mirb genoffcu,
ïï&aè erlangbor, uùrb getifd)^*.
;aebcr ^aiim Unrb î)ier gcf(ï)uubeu%
3ebeê 3li^fitîlfi" aftgeftutjt,
3eber §alm f)at feiue ^unben,
Sebeê Sldttc^en mirb geuut^t.
2iere, ^flaujen, ©tcine, 2SoIïen,
3lt{e§ unrb nac^ SCBert gefc^aljt :
§ter luirb bie 9tatur gcmoltcn '**,
'ùUd)t befd^unirmt unb angefcÇiiini^t.
Êrnft ^ilt)lbrûnbt.
1. 311 SBurften moc^t. — 2. raud^ert. — 3. huile de lin. — 4. plat de riz à ritalienne.
— 5. sèche. — 6. .'Rutteln = intestins, tripes. — 7. garantit. — 8. servi. — 9. écorché.
— 10. mclîen = traire.
Les Cinq Langues
NMl. 5 Mars 1908. 8« Année.
DEUTSCHER TEIL
ein ^eutfdftct^ ^rins tit ^arlê»
^rin,5 @itel O^rtebric^, ber fluette Soî)n beâ beutfc^en .^aiferê, tnad^te am 11. t?e6ruar
im Slutomobit beê SBotfctjttftêattûi^éê 3^ranï eiue «Spajierfaï^rt burc^ ^^ariê. ©r ful^r
û6er ben Êoncorbepla^, 9îue be 9îit)oIi unb 9îue be la ^aij nacC) bem ^^Dalibenbotn,
too cr non bem ©eneral Dlior, bem ©ounerneur beè ^nbalibetipûlafteê, htm ©enerat
gl^apel unb bem Dtierft 931evri§ begrû^t tourbe. ®er ^rin3, ber ^il^ifinsuâ trug, fiel
ï)ei feiner 5ïnfunft im §otel be§ ^uDalibeê uic^t ouf '. @r lieg fid^ fofort jum ©raïie
S^apoleonê fii^ren, too er lange tertoeitte, unb befurf)te bann bie ^a^ette unb baô
^eereêmufeum ; bie ©rïKirungen beê ©eneraïs 9Uo,r na^m er mit banftarer 2lufmerï=
famfeit entgegen. Um H lUir ferliefe er ben ^nliiïibenbom unb fu^r bnrd^ bie ©(^ampê
6Ii)iee§ nad) bem 3trc be 2riomp:^e, oon bort ïe^rte er 3ur 23otf(ï)aft suritdt, too i^n
feine Segïeitung ertoartete. SBei ber Stbreife beê ^rinjen ()atte fic^ S^iirft O. 9îaboïin-
mtt ben .<perren ber beutfd^en SSotfc^aft jnr 3]erat)f(§iebung auf bem 9îorb6a^nf)of
cingefunben.
1. tourbe ntc^t bemerît. — 2. ber beutfd^e Sotfc^after in 5Jîari§.
2iie gcï(»c ©cfaOr.
@in iSDtttag bcô ®cnctalè JtciOctrn ' von 5cr ®olt}.
2tm 31. ^ûnuar ï)ielt ©eneral ber infanterie ijrei^err oon ber ©ol^, ©eneraïinfpef=
teur ber VI. Sïrmeeinfpeîtion unb ^rafibent ber S)eutfc^=2lfiatif(^en ©efetlfd^aft, in ben
^reifen biefer ©efetlft^aft unb if)rer ©cifte einen a}ortrag iikr ,,Sie gelbe ©efa^r im
Sid^t ber ©ef(5i(^te".
Ser SBortragenbe toieê gundc^ft barauf ^iu, toeïd^e aufeerorbentIicf)e ilÉerrafi^ung ber
gefamten 20elt burc^ ha^^ Sluftreten ^apanê feit bem cfiinefifcÇien ^riege unb bnrd^
feinen fiegreid^en ^ompf gegen Dîufelanb bereitet toorben ift. ®r ging bann auf haè
©rtoac^en (£f)ina§ in unferen ïagen na'^er ein unb erinnerte an bie '^tii bor ettoa 50
3af)ten, too bie beiben grofeen 2ànber beê fernen Orienté fiir un§ nod^ in einer ntbtU
!)aften g^erne 3U fiegen fd^ienen unb i^r ïraftigeê gintreten - in ben SSettBetoerb ^ mit
ben abenbldnbifd^en ©roB= unb ©eemadfiten fiir ettoaê Unmogïid^ea ge^olten tourbe.
3um erften 9JlaIe freilid^ tourbe bie toeftlic^e 2BeIt im 3aï)re 1863 baburd^ in
©taunen gefe^t, ha^ e§ einem engïifd^en ©efdfitoaber nid^t geïang, bie JReebe Don
^ogoff)ima 3U forcieren, fonbern unter kbeutenben Canarien Don japanifd^en ,ffiiften=
fcatterien abgetoiefen tourbe. Slber ber gro^e ©inbrud, ben biefeê alarmierenbe greigniâ
1. SSaron. — 2. intervention. — 3. concurrence, rivalité.
[61] ALLSM. 11
82 DECTSCHER TEIL [482]
ma^te, umrbe j(^on im folgenben Saf)re burc^ baè Êiulaufen eineê Derbiinbeten
©ef(ï)toûberô faft ûtter bebcutenben mei^en ©eemdc^te in ben .Ç)afen non ©fiimonofeïi
toertoifcfit.
%nâ) ber japanii(ï)=d^tnefiycf)e ^rieg fii^rte nod^ nic^t ju einem ric^tigen Urteil ûber
bie ^raft nnb 25ebeutung 3«pan§, ba e§ etnen militarifc^ i!}m nid^t efienïiuvttgen ^
©egner ju Êeïdmpfen ge^afit î)atte. ©o toar benn im 23eginn beè mûnb]"i^urif(ïien -!î?riege§
bie alfgemein in ©uropa fjerrfc^enbe ©mpfinbung ein ©efiif)! beê 50titleibê mit ben
Sûpanern, bie fic^ bem 3lnfc^eine nad) unbef onnen '■' in ein ii6er if)re -Srafte l)inauè=
ge^^enbeê Unterneï)men ftiitâten.
^apan fiefi^t gurgeit ein §eer, baê etiua bemjenigen beè 9îorbbeutfcf)en 23nnbeê
gieic^ïommt, nnb ba3U eine flarïe tJtotte, icelc^e bie erfte grofee moberne ©eefcf)lac|t
.îmiicften ^^anjergefc^iuabern^ gemonnen ï}at. 6 f)ina ift im SSegriff, ein §eer anf^uftellen,
baê im ^yrieben bemjenigen bee beutftïien nuv Uienig nai^ftel)en luirb.
2luf biefe Ûberrafi^nng ^atte bie abenbUinbifcfie 2C8e(t fic^ burc^ aufmevffame
3}erfoïgung ber Saten ber mongoliyd^en 3iaî|"e in ber ©efà^icïite uortiereiten ïônnen.
©iefer Seil ber SÛeltgefd^id^te ift inbeffen im atlgemeinen nur inenig beac^tet toorben,
$ffiiv f)egen bie 3}orite[Iung, ba^ e§ fid^ bei ben gro^en mongoïifc^en ©roberungen nnr
nm Uieite 9îanb3iige '' jafjIreicEier 9lomabenf)orben gef)anbelt Ijat, bie, nacfibem fie einmol
in SBetoegung geïommen nuiren, Don ber 2nft am Dîanben, ^.Vcorben nnb *].viunbcvn
fortgetrieben tourben. Um biefe Sorftellnng ju beric^tigen, ging ©eneral u. b. ©ol^
ûuf bie 3^elb3iige S)iingf)iê=(£^an§, .«pulaguê, Satuê, ^ubilaiê nnb Simur^Ienfê naf)er
ein. gr toieê natfi, bafe ber erfte ÎDlongotencinbrncf) bon 1212 unter S)jing^i<j=6:^an,
ber bom oberen lirai anëging, îeineôluegê biinn benblferte nnb fcîiIecEit l'ertetbigte fianber
traf, fonbern t)ietmef]r ein ©i)flem rcicÇicr nnb tuof)! au^geriifteter ©roBftaaten, luie baè
norb= nnb baê fiibcf)inefif(ï)e, baê ïnngntenreicï) nnb bie 9teid)e non ©jagatai unb
^^nareèm. llnter getoaittgen iîiimpfen toar biefe gan,3e afiatifd^e ^nïtnrtuelt innerf)alb
17 3a^ren bon bem gro^en ÎOlongoIenïaifer unterioorfen. dlai) feinem 2obe fe^ten fidE)
bie ©rDbernngê3iige einerfcitê in Œ()ina, anberfeitê im toefttidjen 3lfien nnb im cift(icf)en
©nropa fort. Zïo^ nùeberfjolter 9UeberIagen ** btieben bie ÎJÎongotcn am @nbe imiiier
Siéger. Slber oud) in ben anberen afiatiftfien 2]oltcrfrfiaften, nauientlid) benen beé
Dftenc, in (f()ina, fanben fie i^rer loiirbige ©egner. ®ie (froberung ^aponê, bie Don
,1?nbilai, bem erften ©rojsd^an, ber feinen ©i^ in ber neu erriditeten §auptftabt ^eîing
genommen, Derfndjt Umrbe, fd^eiterte an einem furd)tbaren ©turm in ber ©trafee Bon
3:fufd^ima, in ber ïiir3(idj bie entfi^eibenbe ©eefd^Iac^t 3Uiifd}en 3hife{anb nnb ^apan
ftattfanb.
©uropa ïam, inèbefonbere burd^ 23atn, ben ^errfcÇer beê in Dhifjlanb gegviinbctcn
9îeicE)eê oon ^iptfd)at, ber in ber ©d^Iac^t oon Siegni^ (1241) bie fd^tefifc^en Ç>fi-"5^i8e
nnb bie beutfd^en 9litter fd^lng, in ®efal)r. ©ein SSunf^ foll e§ getoefen fein, fid) mit
ben 3^ran3ofen 3U meffen, bie er fiir bû§ in ber ^riegêïnnft am meiftcn fortgefc^rittene
9}oïî beê Slbenblanbeê ï)ie(t. 5Rnr ber lange bonernbe 2ûibcrftanb non a3ubapeft nnb ber
3ufatl, baB ber ïob bcê ©rofjc^ans Cgtai if)n 3ur ,i?aiferloa()I nad} 3lfien 3uriicîrief,
fc^einen bamalê SBefteuropa Oor mongolifd;er Uberfdjiocmmnng beinatjrt 3n ^aben.
S)er SSortragenbe ïniipft an biefe ©cE)iIbernngen, bie be3iiglid^ be§ ïricgégefd)id)tlidfien
Seiteê auf einem toon feinem ©oï)ne, bem je^t in 3Irgentinien tiitigen SÛlajor ^reifjerrn
0. b. ©ol^ oeroffentlid}ten ÏBerte (®ie gelbe ©efaï^r im Sid)t ber ©efdf|idt)te. 2eip3ig,
bei g^riebrid^ ©ngetmann.) bernf)ten, bie Semerfnng, bafj eê nid)t feine 3lbfid;t fei,
©viropa oor einem nencn 9Jtongotencinbrud)e bange 3n mac^en. @ô ift aïlerbingê rid^lig,
bafe bie 9JlongoIenf)eere, iiber beren ©treiter3al)( man 3Uiar ïeine beftimmten Slngaben
befi^t, bie aber bod) in ein3efnen Sciiïen nad) ."punbcrttanfenben 3dl)Iten, eô oerftanben
4. gteid^en. — 5. à la légère. — 6. escadres cuirassées. — 7. expéditions de pirates. —
. défaites.
[483] DEDTSCHER TEIL 83
i)aben, luafferlofe SBûften ebenjo 311 ubenninben mie fc^ncebcbecfte ,'poc^geî6trge. DJlan
mufe fogor 3Uc3eticu, ba% eê fiir bie militdrifcfien 5(utoritàten imîever 3"t fi" 9îiitfel
ï)Iei6t, toie eê gelmigeu i[t, jo grofee gjlenjcC^enmaffen auf 3i'i9f" ^o" Saufenben Don
^ilometern git erna()ren unb mit aïlem îîôtigeu ju Derfeï)en. ®ine 2Ûteberï)Dtung ift abn
btiinoâ) nid^t 311 Befiird^ten. «Selbft bie îiebiirfniêïofen ©oïbaten be§ fernen Dftenê
toûrben ^eute af)iiIicC)er ©etoaltleiftungen ^ nic^t tneîjr fcifiig fein. ®ie moberne ^neg§=
auêriiftung, bie Dîotmenbigîeit, ein §eer mit 9Jluuition uiib 2(uêriiftung unaitSgefe^t '"
frifc^ 3U fevïeben, oerCieten eê. ®ie ïriegerift^e 9tiiftung beë europaifcfjen 9(6enb(anbeë
ober f)at fic^ fett bem 5Jlitte(a(ter ebenfo rabital neranbert, baè ï)etfet tierDoKfommnet, mie
bie 58et)o(terung§,5a:^I gemac^îen ift. ^ein neuer SSatu me^r mirb baxan benïen ïonneu.
S)eutf($Ianb 311 burc^3ief)en, um ben erfe^nten SGaffengang mit ben g^ran3ofen 3U
beginnen.
©t)er ïonneu ïriegerifc^e aSermicïelimgen f\â) im grofeen 33ecïeu beô ©tillen D3eanô
auê bem i^olonifationëbetrieb ber getben 'Sta\îi ergeben. 6f)ina fomol)! mie ^apan
leiben unter einem J8oItsiiberf(ï)ufe. 3n gf)ina bilbeten in alteren ^^iten ber ^inbfs=
morb unb grofee îibevfcfimemmungen bie einfac^ften Dîegulatoren gegen biefeê Ûbel.ïRit
bem Sintreteu georbncter 9]erf)a(tni[|e unb ftaatlic^er ijïirfovge miiffen fie fd^tcinben,
unb bie nbernolferung mirb fortfd^reitenb 3uneïjmen. @o finb benn bie ,Kiiften 3lmeri=
ïûê, bie 3nfelmelt beê Oftenê, Stuftratien ufm. 3una(^ft Don einer 3ni'tifion burcf) bie
be^enben unb arbeitfamen gelben 5Dlanner bebro{)t. ®ie erften lîonftiîte mit ber meifeen
fRaffe ^aben fic^ barauê ïiirsïic^ fcÇion ergeben. ®ie Dîegierungen finb friebticE) gefonnen
unb toerben ba§ i'^rige tun, bie gan3e SSemegung in frieblid^en S5af)nen 3U l^dten. 3tber
biefe ïann mot)! eineê Sageê mac^tiger merben, aie fie eê finb, unb ber ïriegerifc^e
5lu§brud^ bur(^ bie ©emalt ber Umftcinbe berbeigefiibrt merben.
Stber autf) biefe a}organge miirben unâ fern licgen unb î)oi^ftenâ ben ^oloniaïbefitj
ber abenblanbifd^en ÎJlat^te im ©tiïïen D3ean unb nieûeic^t im ^ubifctien 30îeere
berii^ren.
aSic^tiger ift e^S, unb bieê betonte ber SSortragenbe befonbers, fid^ gan3 im alfgemeinen
ïlar 3U merben iiber bie bebeutenben @igenfc()aften unb bie erfttuinlicfie Seiftungêfaï)ig=
ïeit", melc^e bie gelbe Dîaffe ï)iftorifd) uacf)meiêbar '^ an ben Sag geïegt :^at. 23eibe
merben fi(î| aud) im frieblid^en ïûettbemerb mel^r unb mef)r fiif)tbar mai^en. 5ïn S^feife,
3tuêbauer'3, ©eniigfamïeit 'S 3df)igïeit unb auc^ ©c^Iau^eit befi^t bie meifee Dtaffe in
ber gelben einen bôc^ft gefafirlic^en Dlebenbu'^Ier. ©ineê aber 3ei(f)net bie SSôIïer beë
fernen CftenS oor bin europâifc^en befonberô auê, baè ift ein fiî^arf au§gepragteê ©oIi=
baritdt§gefii()t, ba§ fief) unter anberem in ^apûn in einen gliibenbcn ^^^atrioti§mu§ unb
groBeâ @elbftgefïi()t umgefe^t f)at. §ieriiber foïïten bie a3oIter beâ SïïeftenS fic^ ïtar fein
unb auf atlen ©ebieten menfcÇiIid^er Setdtigung, ni(^t blofe auf bem ïriegerifi^en banad)
ftreben, e§ ben bro^enben Dlebenbu^lern gleii^3utun. ^n §anbel unb ^nbuftrie merben
fie in ber 3utunft einen immer ïjarteren 6tanb ï)aben, menu fie in ben oben be3eic^neten
gigenfctiaften mit ben ©eïben nic^t 3U metteifern imftanbe finb ober fic^ nic^t ba3u
ermannen. S)ieë mogen, unb smar nïi)t an lester ©telle, ftc^ ancf) bie breiten tiex-
toobnten'' 2trbeitermaffen beê 2lbenblanbe§ gefagt fein laffen, ober bie @r3eugniffe
europaifd^en ©emerbefleiBeâ merben Don ^at)x 3U 3af)r meïir gegen bie eigenen ©ren3en
guriïcïgebrangt merben unb am ©nbe ben Soben, ben fie 3ur Sebenêfaf)igïeit brauc^en,
Derloren gef)en feben. ®ieê unb nicEit ïriegerifcEie ©rDberung§3lige biïbet bie eigentlic^e
geïbe ©efaï)r, bie mir auê ber ©ef(ï)ic^te ïennen lernen ïonnen.
9. tours de force. — 10. itet§. — H. capacités. — 12. mie bie ©efc^ic^te e§ bemeift. —
13. endurance. — 14. sobriété. — 15. gâtées.
84 DEUTSGHER TKIL [484]
Die Vereinigten Staaten von Brasilien.
III
Ûberblick ûber die Geschichte Brasiliens.
Trotz dieser Taten verzôgerte die Politik, die der Mutterstaat * hinsichtiich -
seiner Kolonie befolgte, deren Aufbliihen. Wahrend des 17. und eines Teiles
des 18. Jahrhunderts blieb der gesamte Ilandel in den Hânden privilegierter
Gesellschaften, und aile Kolonialprodukte mufiten Lissabon passieren.Fremde
waren tatsâcblich vôllig vom Handel ausgeschlossen. Aufjerdem mafîte sich
die Regierung in Lissabon an 3, von weitem ûber die brasilianischen Angele-
genheiten zu befinden, und selbst in dringenden Fâllen mufîten die V^ize-
kônige und Gouvcrneure die Befehle abwarten, die ihnen diirch Schiffe —
Segler — zugingen. Dièses strenge Régiment^ halte ein Ende, als 1807 die
von den Franzosen aus Lissabon vertriebene Famille Braganzain Rio eintraf.
Dom .Joan, der bald zum « Kônig von Portugal, Brasilien und Algarbien »
erwahlt wurde, richtete die ganze Verwaltung des iMutterlandes in seinem
Kônigreiche ein und bemiihte sich durch eineReihe liberalor MaÊnahmen,
den Aufschwung der alten nationalen Kolonie zu befôrdern. Er zog sogar
Nutzen ans Unrnhen, die in der Banda orientale, die bis dahin den Spaniern
gehôrt halte, ausgebrochen waren, nm sein Gebiet nach dieser Seitc auszu-
dehnen. Er annektierte denn auch dièses Territorium im Jahre 1821.
Portugal^ von Fremden befreit, hatte sich inzwischen eine Verfassung zuge-
legt, und 1821 wurde Dom Joan durch die Cortes zurïickgernfen. Dièse aber
schienen es sich zur Aufgabe gemacht zu haben, das wohlbegonnene Werk
ihres Kônigs zu zerstoren und in Brasilien die alte Kolonialverwaltung wieder
einzufiihren. Sie erliefsen schliefîlich derartige Mafjnahmen, dali Dom Pedro,
der als Régent zuriickgeblieben war, den Gehorsam verweigerte, als man
ihn abrief, und 1822 die Unabhangigkeit erklarle.
Aus der ganzen Zeilperiode zwischen 1822 und 1849 bal die brasilianische
Geschichte nur von Unruhen zu berichten. Die ersten Versuche dos Reprâsen-
tativsyslems fiihrten zu heftigen Kiimpfen zwischen Liberalen und Konser-
vativen. Dièse K'ampfe, an sich schon begûnstigt durch die Rivalitiit zwi-
schen Portugiesen und Brasilianern, verscharlten sich noch bei der Nach-
richt von der franzôsischen Révolution von 1830, und Dom Pedro I. wurde
zur Abdankung' gezwungen. Er lieB seine Krone seinem tunfjâhrigen Sohne
Pedro II. und bis zur Grohjàhrigkeit des Ilerrschers die V^erwaltung des
Landes einer Regentschaft.
Brasilien bat das Gliick gehabt, in Dom Pedro IL, der mit fiinfzelm Jahrcn
miindig gesprochen wurde, einen wahrhaft liberalen Kaiser und hervorra-
genden Fïihrer zu finden. Wahrend der letzten 40 Jahre seiner Regierung
waren das Unterrichtswesen, Industrie, Handel und Landwirtschaft in stetem
Aufschwung begriffen. Durch Eisenbahnen, SchifTahrtslinien sowie die
Begiinstigung der Einwanderung wurden die natiirlichen Reichti'imer des
Landes erschlossen, und in keinem anderen Telle Amcrikas, auÊer vielleicht
den Vereinigten Staaten oder Kanada, luit sich in kurzem Zeitraum solch
eminenter Fortschritt vollzogen.
{Forlsetzung folgt.)
Prof. D'" A, Fischer.
(Osterreichische Handehschul-Zeitung.)
1. métropole. — 2. in bezug auf. — 3. niaPile sich... an : prétendait. — 4. régime.
— 5. abdication.
[485] DEDTSCHER TEIL
2)lc Uiiic ïoihicv C^Jmmiffoê.
3}or einigen 3Bo(^eu tierfcEiieb ' in Çrif^enûu ^fi ^Berlin naà) furjer ^vûuf^eit im "8.
Cebenêjafire S^rau ^ofianna Sc^neiber geb. - D. 6f)amtffo be aSoncourt. 5!ïlit if)r ift baè
ïe^te ber fiebert in 23erlin gefiorenen .Kinber Slboïbert D. S^amiffo?) geftorben. 93orau§ge=
gangen im 2obe finb if)r ber Cberft grnft, ber DJlajor ÏRar, ber g^orftmeifter Stbolf , ber
©ei^eime DJÎebiainalrat §ermann n. 6ï)ûtntffo, bie ^rofeffor'Sgattin Stbetaibe ^alm geb.
t). S^amiffo nnb in jungen 3ûf)ren fd)on ber Ceutnant âlbalbert d. Sf)amiffo.
3(0^anna n. gfiamiffo, in glûdEIid)fter g^e Dertjeiratet mit bem fiaufmann 3- B^mi-
ber in aSremen, inar eine fc^on in i^rer Sugenî^ toegen if)rer ©rfc^einung unb if)rer
geiftigen Sebeutung in ben 23erliner ^reifen niel Deref)rte ^crfonIicf)feit. 3" fpciteren
Sal^ren trat eine 5t^nlic^ïeit mit ben (^arafternollen ©eficfitê^Ugen it)re5 groBen SBaterè
jutage, bie auffatlenb unb aUgemein befannt xvax. SSiê 3U if)rem Sebenêenbe {)interlieè
fie burd^ it)re ^erjenêgiite unb i^r geiftootles aOSefen jebem, ber if)r ndfjer getreten,
einen tiefen, unbergefelic^en ÊinbrudE.
1. ftoïb. — 2. gebotene.
Frisch gesungen.
1.
Hab' oft im Rreise der Lieben
Im duttigen Grase geruht
Und mir eiii Liedlein gesungen,
Und ailes war hùbsch und gut.
2.
Hab' einsam auch mich gehârmet '
In bangem, diisterem Mut-,
Und habe wieder gesungen,
Und ailes war wieder gut.
3.
Und manches, was ich erfahren,
Verkocht' ich in stiller Wnt,
Und kam ich wieder zu singen,
War ailes auch wieder gut.
4.
Sollst niclit uns lange klagen,
Was ailes dir wehe tut,
Nur frisch, nur frisch gesungen,
Und ailes ist wieder gut.
Adalbert von Chamisso ^ (1781-1838)
1. chagriné. — 2. Geist. — 3. Geborea auf Schlofi Boncourt in der Champague, mutile
1790 mit den Eltern wegea der Révolution flielien, kam nacli Deulschland und wurde 1796
Leibpage der Rôuigin von Preuften. 1798 trat er in die Armée, nahm aber beim Ausbruche
des Krieges 1806 seinen Abschied, um nicht gegen Frankreich kiimpfen zu mussen. Nach
mehrjiihrigem Aufenllialte in Frankreich kehrte er 1812 nach Berlin ziiriick um sich dem
Studium der Medizin und der Naturwissenschafteo zu widmen. Von Juli I8I0 bis 1818 hetei-
ligte er sich als Naturforscher an einer von Russen ausgefuhrten Weltreise. Er starb am 21.
August 1838. ^, ,
Chamisso gehôrt zu den volkslumlichslen Liederdichler und Erzàhler Deulschlands.
86
DEDTSCHER TEIL
[486]
^clî»cnto2> *.
III
S)a§ 9îe9iment, \vdâ)tn\ mià)ai 2oUdi gugeteiït mv, unirbe, ïaum etnge=
Iroffen, in hie {yrout be§ ^eereê cjejdiicft unb frfjon narf) luenicjeu ïagen in einen
^ampt mit bem Sreinbe nerlmcîelt. @ê iDar fein 3ufammen[toJ5 bebeutenber
Srnppenmaffen, nur cin geringfiigigeâ '
©efed)t. 2t6erba§ 25erI)Qn(jniS - WoKk eë,
ha^ bci- d)lui)al fc^toer uenunnbet anirbc.
Êin ©dben)ie6 traf it)n im 5Intli^, ein
©ejc^oB àci-'l'^iiietterte if)m unter bem Anie
bas 58ein. a>ier DOlonate ïang tag er in
(E^arbin im Sajarett ; bann luurbe er aU
ge{)eilt entlajfen unb aU bienftuntaugticï)^
in bie §cimat juriictgefaubt. 2)ûg rerf)te
Sein luar nur biê jum <^nie fein eigen
gleijd) unb 33lut, baè iibrige lt)ar ^otj.
3>on ber linfen SSange iiber ben 90hmb
bis jnm -ftinn ïjcrab lief einc breite, rote
3hu-be\ bie haè gnnje 5lntïi^ entftellte
unb jnmal' bieCippcn, bie fie burdj[d)nitt,
uerunftaltete. 3(ud) brei 3af)ne feljlten.
S)û§ \mx nid)t mefir ber bilbt)iibfd)e junge
93urfd)e, ber nor nod) nid)t ad)t ÎJÎouûten
gefuub unb frdftig Don fcinem -S^eimatborfe
gefd)icbeu mar ; ha§ iDar cin f)af3Ïid)er,
fied)er -rulippel, bem and) baâ btinîenbc
5lapferteit§îreuj auf ber JBruft bû§ Sebeu
nid)t mcï)r liebenSluert mad)cn ïonnte.
©ute, beilige ©otteêmutter, iuû§ t)atte ber
3JUd)at gclitteu an îorpertid)en ©d^mer^en,
loaô litt er nun, ha er ()eimteî)ren burfte, an
f eelif d)en Qualen ! 2Bie batte er auf gebrliUt,
al§ er jum crften 9JlaIe nac^ ber §ei(ung
fein ©piegeïbilb toieberfaï), tme l^atte er geftbl)nt, al§ er mit feinem ©teljfu^e
iuieber begiunen mu^te get)en ju lerneu gleid) ciuem ganj tïeinen ^inbe, tuic
bitterlid), ooU .^perjeïeib unb 3utunft§bani]en tueinte er, ba er ber §eimïe^r
gebac^te I 9)îager iDar er tuie ein ©terbenber, blafi toie eine Seidje, traurigtote
eine'arme oerbammte ©eele. S)ie SJtania, bie DJÎania! ïïùaè tuirb bie 5)iania
fagen ? Unb bie ^atja unb bie anberen aile ? 2Beiuen toerben fie mit i^m, um
iï)n. ®er gutc ©ott fei gepriefen, ba^ fie braoc 6I)riften toaren I ©ie tucrben
i()n nid)t oerad)ten unb non fic^ fto^en, o nein, fonbern ïieb I)aben unb pflegen.
^a, aber bie 9Jiania? Oh fie i()n, ben ^riippel mit bem garftigen ^oljbein unb
ber abfd)eulic^en 9îarbe, nod) lieben n)irb?S)aô ^erj beê 93urfc^en loar fdjlver,
fe^r fd)tï)er, o, fo fe^r.
3fm ®orfe loar e§ beîannt getrorben, baf} 93Ud)aI 2obidi oeruninbet f)eimtam.
(Jricbrid) ïûeniev Han Dcftéren.
* ©te^e bie t)ier onbern %dU.
1. de peu d'importance. — 2. le sort, le maUieur. — 3. impropre au service. — 4. cica-
trice. — 5. en particulier.
[487] DELTSCHER TEIL 87
Êtn .^amerab, ber fc^ieiben fonnte, i)atk fur it)n eine ^artc gej'ci)rie6eiu 2Btc
'\à)\vn ber 9Jlt(ï)û( tieriminbet geraefen imb une er nun ausfaf), ftanb atterbtngS
nic^t aiif bev lîarte ; iinb fo iDu^te eê aud) nod) fetner im ®orfe. 5l5ci- eine 5luf =
regnng cjab eS, al^j bie !îlînd)rid)t eintraf, eine Stufreguug, o, it)r lieben §eiligen,
juft fo, aU îdme ber t]od)ebelge6orene .sperr ©eneral ^uropatfin felbft, ber
ein fo beriUjinter 5e(bl)err fein foUte. S)ie fd^bne ïlîania fc^Iuc^jte \vk eine
9f{afenbe — tagelang, of)ne Unterlaf]. ^f)un kfli(t)ai ijatkn fie tiertrunbet, biefe
gotttofen, f)eimtiid'ifd)en''' ^apûner, bie ©otteS ijeuer freffen moge, if)ren fc^bnen,
geliebten 9Jlid)a(. Êrft aU bie biirre ^ntja biffig ' bemerfte, bafj eâ teine rcc^t=
fd)affene c^riftlii^e ©efinmtng nnb eine fet)r geringe Siebe oerriete, inenn man
iiber eine 2}ertunnbnng beâ SrdutigamS lueine, ftatt iiber beffen 9îiidfef)r ju
jubeïn tt)ie ein feliger Êngel in ©otteô .§imme(reid), — erft bann f)orte bie
3[lîania ju jammern anf. Unb ba freute fid) ber alte Sefci)fo unb nannte fein
îbd)ter^en eine §e(bin, bie eineê §e(ben luitrbig fei. 3lber mit tT)ad)fenber
Unrnfje, ©pannnng unb 93eforgniê fal)en fie aile im S)orfe nun ber §eimfet)r
ajlid)al Cobidiâ entgegen.
®ie ^Cnînnft beîi Srraarteten oerjbgerte fic^ aber aud) ungebii!)rlid) ^
ï)tef)rmalô mufjte er bie &îeife unterbrec^en nnb balb langer, balb îiirjcr in
fibirifd)en gterfen tnarten, bi§ tf)m geftattet lourbe, einen ndcf)ften 3^9 S^i
befteigen. 2Barum ha^j gefd)af), erfuf)r er eigentIic^nie.S)a'jtoarenmiIitdrifd)e
®et)eimniffe. Une iï}m gefagt unirbe. ©nblii^ (angte er nad) quafooUer Q^atjrt
in §ïBarfd)an^ an, ®out gab eô abermalâ brei S^age 5tufentf)aït. ®afiir befam er
aber aud) bon bem î)od)ebeIgeborenen .sperrn ©eneral, bem er uorgefiibrt lunrbe,
Oiele SSorte beS Sobeg ju I)bren, unb mef)rere fd)ône gidnjenbe ©oibftiide
er[)ie(t er obenbrein. 2)aun bnrfte er bie -s^eimueife fortfet;eu. 5l6eu anf bem
a?a§u()ofe ging er jnerft ju einem 93eamten, ®in buntleo ®efiif)t non 5lugft,
©d)ani unb ïrauer beluog if)u, ben !)od)Uiol)(geboreueu -S^erni inftdnbig ju
bitten, er mbge fo ebet unb giitig fein, ein îetegramm tib^nfeubeu — naturlid)
gegen S3e,')af)(ung. Unb fo îam eâ, ba^ bie J^atfa ©avomic^ ein S;e(egramm
tt)reâ Sruberô eu()ielt. ®a mar bie 5lnfunftèftunbe befannt gegeben nnb bie
33itte, niemanbem etiuaô ,^n fagen, fonbern atlein mit einem 2.Bdge(d)cn anf ben
58at)n()of ,')U tommen. ÎCenn aber trotibem eine ()albe ©tunbe fpdter aile im
S^orfe mufjten, ba^ unb luaun 'Hcic^al Sobidi tdme, fo mar baô uia[)rl)aftig
nid)t bie ©c^utb ber .^atja atle'in, bei i^rer @ee(e, fonbeun aud) bie beô -s^errn
Safinbeamten im ®orfe.
(Sortfe^ung foïgt,)
g^riebrid) SSerner uan Deftéren.
6. perfides. — 7. d'un ton mordant. — 8. outre mesure. — 9. Varsovie.
Meeresstille
Tiefe Stille herrscht im Wasser,
Ohne Regung ruht das Meer,
Und bekiimmert sieht der Schiffer
Glatte Flâclie riims iimher.
Siehe die Ùbersetzung in dem franzosischen Teii.
DEUTSCHER TEIL [488]
Keine Liift von keiner Seite !
ïodesstille fûrchterlich !
In dei" iingeheuren Weite
Reget keine Welle sich.
GOKTHE.
Seltsame Silvesterfeiern.
Eine englische Zeitschrift weifi von Silvesterfeiern allerlei zii erzàhlen.
Eine besondere Stellung nehmen die Arbeiter nnd Bergfùhrer ein, die in
den letzten Wochen des Jahres 1905 die neiie Schutzhûtte' auf dem Gipfel
des Mont Blanc fertiggestellt hatten. Sie beschlossen, das Jahr 1906 an
ihrer Arbeitsstelle in einer Hôhe von 14 000 Fufi willkommen zu heiften.
Wenige Minuten vor Mitternacht entzùndeten sie ein groftes Feuer, und
als der 1. Januar kam, lohten auf dem Mont Blanc die Flammen hoch
zuni Himmel. Bei einer Kàlte von 20 Grad unler NiiU klangen die Glâser
zusammen. —Eine eigenartige Neujahrsfeier pflegt seit zwanzig Jahren
ein Kohlenarbeiter ans Lancashire abzuhalten. Ani Silvesterabend bleibt
er als einziger unten tief im Schacht- nnd begriïfil mit einem stillen Gebet
und einem Choral das neue Jahr. — Ein reicher Nevv-Vorker Witwer, der
durch seine exzentrischen Liebhabereien ^ schon viel von sich reden
gemacht hat, feiert den Jahreswechsel in einem Grabgewôlbe. Seine Frau
vvaram letzten ïage des vergangenen Jalirliundertsgestorben undseitdem
verbringt der Witwer alljahrlich die Silvesternacht an der Seite ihres
Sarkophages. Erhatihrein prachtvolles Grabgewôlbe errichten lassen,
das am Jahrestage ihres Todes mit ihren Lieblingsblumen geschmiickt
^^i^d. Dort erwartet er alljahrlich die erste Stunde des Neujahrs-
tages. — Nicht weniger exzentrisch gewàhlt ist die Stàtte, die vor einigen
Jahren ein Handwerker aus Chicago zu einer Neujahrsfeier erkor^ Er
kletterte bis an den Wetterhahn eines 100 Fufi liohen Turmes empor und
angeklammert an der hôchsten Spitze pfilf er dort droben mit dem
ersten Schlage der Mitternachtsglocke « Das sternenbesiite Banner », das
amerikanische Nationallied. Dann kletterte er unter vielen Miihen wieder
herab und erreichte auch gliicklich den Boden. Eine Wette von 1000
Mark batte er damit gevvonnen, aber trotzdem verschwor er sich, den
seltsamen Versuch nie mehr zu wiederholeu. — Ein besonderesNeujahrs-
vergnùgen bereitete sich vor drei Jahren ein Schwimmklub in Lancas-
hire, dessen Mitglieder eit)e besondere Probe ihrer Sportsbegeisterung
geben wollten. Sieben an der Zahl versammelten sie sich kurz vor Mitter-
nacht am Meeresufer, und als die Glocken ertônten, sprangen sie un-
erschrocken in das eiskalte Meer. Wie lange siedarin blieben, wird nicht
erziihlt; jedenfalls haben sie am niichsten Silvester den Versuch nicht
wiederholt.
1. abri. — 2. fjalerle. — 3. caprices. — 4. wiihlle.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 12. 20 Mars 1908. 8« Année.
DEUTSCHER TEIL
Ein Volksliederfund.
Fiir aile Freunde der deutschen volkslûmlichen Dichlung der Vergan-
genheit dùrf'te eine soeben gemacbte Entdeckung bemerkenswert sein, die
die Volksliedliteratur durch eine Reihe urwùcbsiger' Gedichle aus dem
Anfang des achtzehnten Jahrhiinderts bereicbert-. Bei dem Kaufmann Ignaz
Erdner in Lauchheim wurde in dem geheimen Seitenfach-^ eines alten Wand-
scbrankes ein kleines Bucb in abgegriffenem^ Ledereinband aufgefunden,das
die Aufscbrift trug : « Haus Buch fiir Franz Xaver Reiter 1707 » iind 36 bisher
iinbekannte Gedichte enthielt. Man beti-achtete dièse zunachst als Abschriften
verloren gegangener Lieder ; bei nàherer Untersuchung stellte sich jedoch
heraus, daf? die Verse von dem ehrsamen Franz Xaver Reiter in Lauchheim,
seines Zeichens Gastwirt zum « Rofele »^ daselbst, selbst herrûhren. Er lebte
von 1681 bis 1729, war mehrere Jahre auf der Wanderschaft iind scheinl im
librigen ein bescbaiilichess Wirtshausdasein gefiihrt zu haben.
Die Lieder, die er in seinen Muhestunden aufzeichnele, tragen diirchaus
Volksliedcharakter. Ihre Entdeckung ist besonders intéressant, weil man hier
vor der Tatsache steht, dafi uns ihr Verfasser bekannt ist. Denn entweder
wâchst das Volkslied aus unsichtbaren Quellen empor und bat hundert
gleichzeitige Urheber"' («die Vôgei pt'eil'en es den HanJwerksburschen vor»,
wie Heine versichert), oder sein ers ter Dichter ist mit seinem Lied sogleich
in die Vergessenheit hinabgesunken. An Reiters Dichtungen, die August
Gerlach im Verlage Eugen Diederichs in Jena herausgegeben bat, ist die fiir
die Zeit des groÊen Niederganges der Poésie seltene Innigkeit des Gefïihls-
lebens ûberraschend. Fiir den vergleichenden Literarhistoriker diirfte es
intéressant sein, die Zusammenhainge zwischen den Gedanken und den
Ausdrucksmitteln dièses dichtenden Gastwirtes und denen unseres Eichen-
dorff, des hundert Jahre spâter Geborenen, zu untersuchen. Die unmittelbare
Annaberung an das VolksgemQt des schlesischen Dichters ^ der dièse neu
aufgefundenen Lieder gar nicht kennen konnte, spricht sich schon in einem
natùrlichen Gleichklang des Wortes aus. Besonders merkwlirdig ist in dieser
Hinsicht Reiters Liedanfang :
Da ich zur Helmat kehrte,
Stand noch das alte Haus.
Der Schild mitsamt dem RôÊlein
Hing noch zur StraÊ' hinaus.
Eichendorffs «Ich kam vom Walde hernieder » hndet ganz denselben Ton.
Ein andermal singt Reiter :
Hor' ich ein Miihlrad gehen,
Mein l^eid zurùcke kommt...
1. primesau tiers. — 2. enricliU. — 3. rayon latéral. — 4. usé. — 3. RoÉlein. — 6.
contemplative. — 1. auteurs. — 8. Eichendorff ist am 10. Miirz 1788 auf dem Scliloli
Lubowilz bei Ratibor in Schlesien geboren.
[67] ALLKM. 12
90
DEOTSGHER TEIL
[530J
Die Licder, meist auf einen melaiicholisclien Ton gesLimint, behandeln
naturgemafi die alten Gegenstiinde der Voilcsdichtung: Wanderii, Liebeslust
Lind -leid, Soidaten-, Jager- und .Miillei-leben. Sehr charakteristisch ist
folgendes :
Und fragst du micli,
Was es denn ist,
Das mich so traurig macht,
Das meiiien lielleii, frohen Sinn
Verkehrt ia diinkie Naclit :
So w ill ich es sagen
Und dir verklagen :
Es ist das Ein,
Icli bin allein
Und kann allein
Nit friJhlicli sein !
Das zerbrochene Ringlein.
MU/jig langsam,
P
g
^
i£
P^
el- nctn kiili- len Grun- de, da
^ r Jn /^ J> .S^
g
iobt ein Miih- len-
rad ;
Mcin
Ijcb- thon ist ver-
I
S
S
^
i±±
-1 d
schwun- den, das
> cresc.
¥
P^
dort ge- woh- net hat ;
:: — di/rt.
r i-'Q ^'ij j
^^
Me in
SI
^=d
» 0
Mebclien ist ver- schwun- den, das dort gewohnet liât.
In einem kiihlen Grande,
Da gebt ein Miihlenrad ;
Mein Liebchen ist verschwunden,
Das dort gewohnet hat.
Sie hat niir Treu vcrspi-ochen,
Gab mir ein'n Ring dabei ;
Sie hat die Treu gebrochen,
Das Ringlein sprang entzwei.
Ich môcbU als Spielmann reisen
Weit in die Welt hinaus,
Und singen meine Weiscn,
Und geha von H ans zu Haus.
Ich inôchU als Reiter tliegen
Wohl in die blut'ge Schlacht,
['m stille FeuPT liegen
Ini Feld bei dunkler Nacht.
Moi' ich das Miihlrad gehen :
Ich weir=i nicht, was ich will —
Ich mocht' am liebsten sterben,
Da war's auf einmal still.
J. von ElCHE?<DOHFF.
[5311 DEHTSCHER TEIL 91
2>rtè «tciiîcit 5cé Srtftcé i« ^cn 'sjîflrtitsctt.
®a§ ©aftfteigen ' in ben 23aumen ift bie Urfadje bes fogeiiannten 33(utetiê ober
Sranenê ber '^l^flan.îen, itnb beibe, folnot)! bie Urfadje aie auâ) bie 2Ûtrfung, gcrjôren
311 ben ratfell^ûfteften - (grfdieinnngen be§ ^flanjenlebenê, toeêl)ûlb feit ben 33erfuif)en
§aleê^ ï)t§ auf ben "^eutigen Sag immer Uiieber t)erfucï)t lonrbe, bie toicfitige ®rf'enntni§
biefer Sîorgdnge jn finben. ®er ®aft beginnt aHinfirlic^ nad) bev SBinterionnenuienbe'*^
ïrciftig 3n fteigen, bamit bei ber SIatter= nnb 33liitenenttindhtng aUe Seile ber ^ïflanje
fc^on mit SBaffer Herforgt finb. 3n ben erften 2agen beè ©ommerê mad^t bie ^^-^flangeu:
toelt no(^ einmat eine inerïbare 3lnftrengung jur uoUen unb itppigen ©ntfaïtung.* Saë
2)oïf nennt biefcn ïe^ten 3mpul§ „3o^anntêtrieb" unb lueiB, ha^ mit i^m bie
tibfteigenbe Sinie ber Isegetation begonnen Ijat. ®a§ SJIuten, ober tnie es in manc^en
(Segenben ijù^t, baè Srdncn ber SSdume ift eine aEgemein beïannte ®rf(^einung, bie in
ber .'panptfac^e folgenbermafeen cerïduft: 3lnê einem iierïc^ten(angeïc^nittenen) Snuni:
ftamm qnillt im 5Ûtonat SJldr^ ober 3tprit, jebenfallQ nor ban §erauêtreten ber -Snoipen'',
cin f(^nia(^ jncïerïiûïtiger ©aft in rei(ï)Ii(ï)en SlJiengen, ber anà) îjin unb ba eine
aSertnertung finbet. ©0 beftetit ber aie ©c^ijnfjeitêmittel beïonnte Sirïenbalfam lior=
itiiegenb auô 33irïenfaft, ber 3iicïeru^orn ^anaboé liefert !^udtx ufto. @§ gibtabereine
531enge faftreii^er ^'flnn^en, bie ni($t bluten, jubem tritt noc^ ber Umftanb, bag bie
23lntung bei oUen '^.'flan^en mit ber @ntfaltung ber 53Idtter fcift gdnjlicf) cuifïjbrt unb,
menu mir oon bent ^ol^anniêtrieb abielien", bi§ jum @intritt beê 2Sinterê DoUftanbig
ruf)l. '^n ben 93lorgen= unb SUienbftunben ift fie am ftcirtften, ober()aIb luafferreicfiem
JBoben l^eftiger aie bel ^^flangen, bie in trodenem ©rbreid) fteî^en. ®ie beften Sluter
finb bie Sirfe.ber 2Seinftocï unb bie SLabafpflange, Uieïd)e unter giinftigen llmftdnben
eine 2Boc^e lang ein biê fieben 2iter Snft tdglic^ abgeben. @ê muB bal)er in biefen
^Pflanjen ein mdd)tiger ®rucf Porbanben fein, ben man SBtutungêbrucf nennt, beffen
©rfidrung aber biê nun grofee ©djinierigfeiten bereitet ^at, obgleid^, luie fd)on ertodbnt,
ber aSIutungêbrucî mit bem ©aftfteigen in einem innigen 3"fûwmen^ang fteî)t. ®oc^
aud^ bie le^tere ©rfdieinung ift nid^t PbEig aufgefidrt. 9Jlan glanbte bi§f)er, ba^ bie
^apillaritdt unb bie o^motifc^e ©augung ber 3ftlen in ben Seitungeitiegeu, al§ tnelc^e
ber 33aft' unb bie ©efdfee*" mit bem jitngeren .Spol,3teit fungieren, imftanbe feien, baê
2Baf)er binaufjubefbrbern. ®o(^ biefe atlgemeiu get)altene 3;f)eorie I^iett einer miffeiu
fd)aftlid)en ^riifung nid^t ftanb ^ benn ber atmofpf)drif(^e ®rucï î)dlt blofe eine
aSafferfduIe Pon 10>2 SDleter §oI)e im ©teic^gemid^te. ®§ gtbt aber SSdume mit mel)r
Ole 100 53ieter §obe, bei benen natiirlid) ber ©aft aud^ bi§ in bie fiod^ften 3ïi'eige
gelangt, Uiaô aud^ I)ier bie gleidbe Hrfad}e bnben mufe. 3luBerbem ift ju bebenfen, ba^
gerabe in ber ^^eifeeften S^it. ïi^f"" î^fi-" Slutungëbrncf Pollftdnbig aufgebiirt bût, bie
flatter bie meifte ^eud^tigïeit braudien unb audl) erbalteu. ÏBaê ber Srud ber 2ttmo=
fpl)dre nid^t leiften ïann, bringt aud) bie ^apitlaritdt nid)t an^'^S^ ^^ fi^ "^'i-' "iif
ïurje entfernungen tuirït unb nid)t fo fd)nell mie ba§ 2Baffer in ber ^^flanje tatfddliUd)
toanbert, mit einer ©efdliluinbîgteit bië gu gmci 501eter in ber ©tnnbe. 3luc^ bie €§mofe
genûgt ^ur grfldrung beë ©aftfteigenë nid)t, lueil bie ftdrïfte 2Cafierî)ebuug in leeren
unb toten ^eûen gefd)iebt, bie ûberl)aupt nid)t oêmotifc^ tdtig fein ïonnen. 2Sie îommt
nun baè 2Baffer ï)inauf? Sie nddifîliegenbe SIntluort luar, ba^ bie in ben ^îflan.]en
norbanbenen pf)l}fiîalifd^en ^rdfte nid^t au§reicE)en ïonnen, um ben SSaumtoipfel mit
aSaffer .]u Perforgen. Sod) biefe blofee ajerneinung fonnte nidjt geniigen, toeêttiegen
1. rascension de la sève. — 2. les plus énigmatiques. — 3. §aleë, englijc^er 5l>ftau3en=
:pï)t)fioï09 (1677=1761). — 4. équinoxe d'hiver. — 5. bourgeons. — 6. si nous faisous abs-
traction de. . . — 7. liber. — 8. vaisseaux. — 9. ne résista pas à.
92 DEUTSCHER TEIL [532]
Urfprung neuerbingê bem ©aftfteigcn ettigeïienbe Unterfucfiungen getoibmet fiât, auf
©runb nieïtïier er 311 ber fc^on frûï)er înet)rmalô aufgetaucfiten 3tnfi(ï)t gelangt ift, ba%
bie lebenben ^^^Uen buvrf) attineê ©ûiigen baê SDBaffei {)eben. Uni feine St^eorte 3U
beUieifeit, ijat ev mittelë 2Bûf)erbanipf, -Rcitto, (Sfeftri^itdt uiib 5tt()erbampfe bie lebenben
■Krcifte meï)rerer S^erfiicfjepflQn^en Hernid^tet, um 311 fe^eti, Uiieciel ©aft bann nod; in
bie §o^e fteigt. ©r Ibtete 3. S. ben ©tengel einer iti§ SSaffer gefteÏÏten ^îlQn3e on einer
©tetle mittelê l^eifeen Sonipfeê unb fanb, baB bie ^f(an3e unter^alô ber DerÊriiïiten ©teCe
frtf(| ï)Iteï), todïirenb ober'^olï) bie SSerborning 6alb einfeWe. @é fann fotnit ïein ^^.leifel
meï)r bûriibei- Êeftef)en, ha% baè ©aftfleigen nicïit mec^anifcfie llrfncfien ï)at, inie titan
biêlier glaubte, fonbetn burd^ intaU ^vdfte IietnerîfteKigt Hiirb. Sitfe bctâ '^sflanjenleben
nic^t auêfiï)tiefelicf) ein DJÎed^ûitiêtnitê fein tnnn, ift iibev'^aupt eine (vrfeniitniê, bie in
atfen ^niÊis^" ber 5pftan3enfnnbe fic^ Sal^n bric^t.
Die Vereinigten Staaten von Brasilien.
IV
tjberblick iiber die Geschichte Brasiliens.
Bas Haiiptwcrk Doiri Pedros, ;in dessen Gelint;en er unaufhôrlich arbei-
tete, war die Aufhebung' der Skiavoroi. Wie aile, zuckerproduzierenden
Kolonien batte Brasilien seit dein H. Jahrhunderl afrikanische Schwarze
cingef'iihrt, tind noch in der ersten Halfte des 19. Jahrhiinderts war der
Sklavenhandel in vveitem Umfang- im Gange. Da gelang es Dom Pedro,
1850 in der Kammer das Gesetz zur Unterdriickung dièses scbmachvollen
Handels durchzusetzen. Das war ein erster Vorstofi. Ein zweiter wurde 1871
auf Veranlassnng dos Ministers Vicomte de Rio Branco unternommen, der
irotz beftigen Widerstandes der Sklavenbalter ein Gesetz durchhrachte, eine
allmahliche Unterdriickung der Sklaverei herbeizutubren. Endlicb, im Jahre
1888, konnte dièse proklamicrt werden, nacbdem die tatkraftigen Bemuhun-
gen von .loaqnim Nabuco, den ein Siebengestirn ^ von Journalisten unter-
sliilzte, einen Umscbwting der Meinungen herbeigefithrt batte.
tenter der Regierung Dom Pedros II. war Brasilien in zwei Kriege ver-
wickelt. Der erste, gegen Argenlinien, endete mit dem Stiirze des Diktators
Hosas und der Anerkennung Uniguays als iinabbarigigen Staat (18)2). Der
zweite, gegen Paragu:iy, war durch die Àrgernisse bervorgerufcn, die der
Régent des Landes, der Diktator Carlo Lopez, gab. Dicser Krieg war lang,
scbwierig und kostspielig und endete 1870 mit dem Tod von Lopez.
Aller tatsacblicb erreicb ter Fortscbritt Brasiliens batte indessen die repu-
blikaniscbe Partei nicht an liitiger Propnganda gegen die monarcbischen
Einricbtungen'' gebindert, und die ditrcb Aui'bebung der Sklaverei bervor-
gerufene Unziifriedenheit der Konservativen benutzend, bereitete sie die
Révolution vor. Plôtzlicb, am 15. November 1889, brach dièse aus, vom
Marschall Deodora de Fonseca geleitet und von Heer und Flotte unterstiitzt.
Die Ministcr wurden im Hauptquartier zur Abdankung gezwungen, und
der Kaiser, der ausPetropolis herbeieilte, fand die neue Regierung eingesetzt.
EInige Tage spater schiffle er sich mit seiner Familie nach Europa ein.
Nicbt ein Tropten Mlut war vergossen worden. — Eine konstituierende Ver-
sammlung wurde 1890 in Rio dazu einberufen, die Verfassung auszuarbeiten,
die am 24. Februar 1891 prokiamiert wurde ; es ist dics die heutige Verfas-
1. abolition. — 2. sur une grande échelle. — 3. constellation. — 4. i)i>ititiilion><
[533] DEDTSCHER TEIL î)3
siing Brasiliens. Der erste Priisident der neuen Republik war Deodoro de
Fonseca, eines der Hiiupter dec Révolution, aber er konnte die Macht nur
einige Monate behaupten. iîberhaupt ist die der Prolvlamation der Republik
folgende Zeitperiode eine der bewegtesten in der hrasilianischen Geschichte.
Die Meuterei der Flotte in Rio 1892 und der sogenannte Konfoderiertenkrieg,
der in Rio Grande do Sul ausbracii, verheerten das Land, and nur mit Miihe
konnten die regularen Truppen der Meuterer Herr werden. Zur selben Zeit
war das Land von einer schweren wirtschaftlichen Krise heimgesucht, die
Spekulation und Miftwirtschaft herbeigefiihrt hatten, and der Kurs des
Papiergeldes war ein geradezu lâcherlich niedriger.
Dièse sich folgenden tjbol verursaehten endlich einen Uraschwung-'. Das
Land begriff, da6 Ordnung der V'erhiiltnisse ^ie unerlafiliche*^ Bedingung des
Fortsciirittes sei. Seit 1895 ist endgiltig Ruhe in Brasilien eingezogen. Die
PrJisidenten, die einander gefolgt sind, Dr. Prudente de Moraes (1894 bis
1898), Dr. Gampos Salles (1898 bis 1902), Dr. Rodriguez Alves C1902 bis 1906),
sind in den Besitz der Macht gelangt, ohne dafi die Ruhe gestôrt worden
wàre, und sie haben es als ihr alleiniges Ziel betrachtet, das wirtschaftliche
Gedeihen Brasiliens zu fôrdern und den Kredit za heben. « Ordnang und
Fortschritt » ist heute der Wahlspruch dièses Landes, das die Elemonte eines
unermefilichen Wohlstandes sein nennt, und das berufen ist, in Siidamerika
dieselbe Rolle za spielen, wie sie die Vereinigten Staaten im Norden Ame-
rikas gespielt haben.
Prof. D'' A. Fischer.
(Ôsterreichische Handelssclml-Zeitung.)
5. revirement. — 6. indi^perifiable.
ôcï^cttto^•,
IV
3^aft offe, bie ber 3lbîaf)rt ^33lic^at SoBtcfiô 6eigelt)oï)nt Ijatten, fanbeii fid)
aucf) jet3t 6ei f einer Oîilcffelir eitt. ,311 weli^er (Sn-egung ', mit iiieîrf)er ©panniutç]
man beit jungert ."pelben eumartcte, ber fein Q,nh§, roteô 35tut fUr baê i^aterlatib
bergoîfen t)atte, 0, bû§ là^t fid) nid)t befc^cet&eii. S)ie ^atja ï)atte in it\uï
îtnfuegnng fotjar bie 23itte um ba§ 55SageI(^en oergeffen ; fie felbft \mi gu guB
^erbeigeeilt. îîur ber ^an Sefd)fo mit feiner fd^ônen 2:;oc^ter raar in einem fef)r
uornef)men, geïben ^orbraagen, mit (ebcrbejogenen §eubitnbefn gepoiftert,
angefafjren gefommen. S)ie 'JJtania bebte aux ganjen Ceibe ; in biefem 5lngen =
biid luar fie fo b[a%, bn giitiger -S^err ^efn§, fo blafj, alS njftre fie aug SB^c^ê,
unb gleic^ wieber im ndc^ften 5lugenblicf fo rot, aUi fàrbte fie ba§ Slut, ha§
ber 9)Hd)û( bergoffen i)atte. 2)er atte Sefc^îo toar eigentlid) nid)t meniger
erregt ; haè tfàttt er jebod) nie nnb nimmer oerraten tooÛen, ©ott bett3af)re. @r
berftanb e§ aber brad)tiio(I, ganj rntiig ju erfd)einen ; er fprac^ fo wenig aU
nur môgïid), lieB bie *Pfeife nid)t anS ben 3af)"en nnb um()it[Itc fid) mit bid)ten
Sîanc^luolfen. 2)er lîafper ©aroiuicj tat luie ber ,jan ; ba^j gefiel if)m namtic^
auBerorbentlid). 9teben tonnte er ja feiner ®ummf)eit roegen of)nebieê faft nie,
oI)ne t)on ber ^atja gefd)otten jn tnerben. 2)afiir rebcten aber bie anberen aile,
bie mii^ig nnb nengierig .*parrenben, boppelt nnb breifad^ fo oiet, a(§ bie bier
• Ste'^e bie bier anbem îeile.
1. émotion.
94 DEUTiiCHER TEIL [534J
Tlen\â)în, bic bcm 9Jli(^aI na_t)eftanbcn, 511 Dci-|(ï)Uieigen Oermoc^ten. S)er Sarm
wav mand)mnï fotinr fo Qrofj, haï] bcr -sl^crr 93af)nt)enmte feïir [tvenn imb
t)0ÎIid) erjud)te, bic STctUiIer 511 tialten.
®îiblid) îam ber ^uç^ in ©td)t ; ïanç])am, langfam roUte er t)eran, iinb bie
®i-be ^itterte. 3lber nod) lieftiger jitterte bie DDîania; fie muBte fid) mit i^rer
ganjen ©ditoere an ben 23ater teï)nen, um nic^t itmjufinîen. ®in lanç^cjejoûener
^>|{|| _ uiib mm [tanben bie 9tnber ftill. ®a bmd) unter ber Sc^ar ber
2Bartenben ein ©c^reicii lo§— îiein, ]"o laut l)ûtte man nod) nie fc^reien ç^ic^brt.
S)er 9îame bco C^eimïeljrenben mirbe ol)ne UnterlaB lmebcrl)oIt, unb ha-
jtDifc^en tontcn bie 9îiife : „§od)!" — „®r joli lebenl" — „2Bitlfominen I" —
„®ie gute ©otteëmutter fegne iljn !" — „D, iinfer §elb I"
(gfortfe^ung foigt.)
i^riebrid) SBerner mn Dcftéren.
Die deutschen Gotter'
Auf die l']rscliaffun£( der Menschen folgt die der Zwerge und der ûbrigen
Wesen diircli die Gôlter.
Die germanisclieii Riesen und Gôtter steheii zu einander in demselben
Gegensatze wie aul' dem Boden Griechenlands die Titaiien und die
olympischen Gôtter. Die Riesen, àlter als die Gôtter (Asen), sind selbst
die Gôtter der àltesten, rohesten Zeit, welche in ihnen die blind wirkenden
Mâchte der ungebàndigten Naturkral't verehrte. DaA Bosheit niciit der
ursprùngliche Grundzug ihres Wesens ist, beweist noch eine ganze Reihe
von Sagen, in denen sie zwar aïs ungesciilacht' und plump, aber zugleich
als treuherzig und gutmûtig geschildert werden. Nur wenn siezinn Zorne
gereizt werden, sind sie heitig und tiickisch- : in blinder Wut schleudern
sie Felsen, reiften starke Baume samtder Wurzel aus und schlagen oder
werfen damit nach ihren Gegnern ; wohin sie mit ihren ungefiigen ^
Fiifien stampien, da entstehen Tàler in der Erde.
Doch je weiter die geistige und sittliche Entwickelung der Menschheit
fortschreitet, desto mebr treten jene allen, rohen NaturgÔtter in den
Hintergrund : ein anderes, hôheres Gôltergeschlecht tritt an ihre Stelle,
das der Asengôtter ; desbalb werden dièse jiinger als die Riesen genannt;
deshalb heilù es, sie stùnden in fortwiihrendem Kampfe mit den Riesen,
die durch sie verdriingt werden. Erst durcli dièse ihre Feindschaft gegen
die Asen werden die Biesen zu bôsen, den Gôttern und Menschen ieind-
seligen Wesen. Als erbitterte^ Gegner der Asen, der hôheren, geistigen
Gôtter einer sittlichen Weltordnung, hassen die Riesen - die rohen
Naturmiichte des eisigen WinterfVostes (Frostriesen), des unwirtlichen
Felsgebirges (Berg- oder Steinriesen), des verheerenden Sturmes (Sturni-
rieseu), des zerslôrenden Feuers (Feuerriesen), der entfesselten Meerestlnt
(Wasser riesen) — ailes, was die Asen geschaffen haben, die Welt und die
* Siehe Nummer 1 und 2.
1. grob. — 2. perfides. — 3. iibel gestalteten. — 4. exaspérén.
[535] DEUTSCHER TEIL 95
Menschen, die Schûtzliiige der Asen. und ailes, was den Asen, den
Hiiiiinel, den Menschen die Erde vvohniich niacht.
Die Asengôtter selbst sind, wie wir sehen, nicht ewig, nicht von
Urbeginn der Zeiten an walten sic ûber dem Weltall ; âlter als sie ist das
Geschlecht der Frostriesen, von dem sie mùtteriieherseits abstamnien,
da OJins Mutter eine Riesentochter ist ; vàtei'licherseits aber sind Odin
nnd seine Briïder ei'st Enkel des von der Kuii ans dem Eisblocke hervor-
geleckten Mannes. Und das ist von holier Wichtigkeit fiïr die ganze
Voi'stellung der Germanen vom Wesen ihrer Gôtter : die germanischen
Gôtter — wie auch die griechischen — sindgewissermafien nnr Menschen
hôherer Art; Ganz wie Menschen sind anch die Gôtter geboren ; wie
Menschen sind anch sie dem Tode nnterworten nnd erleiden Yerwun-
dungen ; wie Menschen bednrfen sie der Nahrung; menschlich ist ihre
Gestalt, nnr weit griir^er und erhabener; wie Menschen emptinden sie
Lust und Schmerz; wie Menschen werden sie von Furcht und Hoffnung,
von widerstreitenden Leidenschaften bewegt; wie Menschen kleiden und
watfnen sie sich ; wie die germanischen Mànner tinden die Gôtter ihre
Freude an Kampf und Jagd und frohem Gelage% wàlirend die Gôttinnen
wie deutsche Hausfrauen des Hanses walten, die Spindel^ fûiiren, dem
Gaste den Willkommtrunk darreichen. aber auch gern mit kostbarem,
strahiendem Geschmeide sich schmiicken ; w'ie Menschen bedûrfen die
Gutter zu schneller Fortbewegung des Wagens, der Rosse ; wie niensch-
liche Fûrsten thronen sie in ihren goldglànzenden Himmelsburgen —
kurz, in alien einzehien Zùgen sind die germanischen Gôtter und
Gôttinnen getreue Spiegelbikler der germanisclien Miinner und Frauen
mit ailen ihren Tugenden und Fehlern, Yorzûgen und Schwiichen ; aber,
wie gesagt, es sind Menschen hôherer Art, in jeder Hinsicht das irdische
Menschengeschlecht weit ûberragend. Kaum geboren sind sie schon
riesenstark, ja starker als feindliciie Riesen ; dièse Gôtterkraft schwindet
nicht mit znnehmendem Alter, denn die Gôtter altern nicht, sie verjûngen
sich immer wieder und wieder durch den Genul"^ der Apfel, die Idun^
verwahrt, und leben so in steter Jugendfrische. Mit wenigen Schritten
legen sie die grôlUen Strecken zurûck : schneller als der Sturmwind sind
ihre Rosse. Sicherer Sieg Iblgt ihren Watien, jeden Gegner vernichten sie
— bis dereinst nach Schicksalsschlul"^ auch fiïr sie der Tag der Ver-
nichtung hereinbricht.
Die Gôtter sind nicht Schôpfer des Weltalls, denn schaffen heil^t ans
nichts hervorbringen; sie bilden nur ans dem schon vorhandenen Stoffe,
ans Ymirs Leib, die einzehien Teile des Weltalls, wie sie Biiume zu
Menschen umbilden. Ihr gôttliches Wesen betatigen sie also zunâchst als
Bildner der Weit, in der Folgezeit, indem sie die von ihnen gebildete und
in geordnete Bahnen gelenkte Weit vor der zerstôrenden Gewalt der
wilden, rohen Naturmàchte, die iilter als sie sind, der Riesen, durch
ewigen Kampf schiitzen.
Nach La.\ge.
5. banquet. — 6. fuseau. — 1. eiae GÔHin.
96 DEUTSGHER ÏEIL [536]
2)rtê ^eiitt hct Sttitcrifrtttcrln.
2Benn luir uon 3lmeriîanern reben, ï)aben luir gtnr)5I)ntic^ bie ameri!anifd)en
ajlillionare im 5luge. 2)ûê SeBen beê ûmeriîanifi^en ^urd)fc^nitt§me7if(^en*
abn ïiat nicï melir ^ntei'effanteS, unb befonberS intereffant ift cin S^ercjïeirf)
5lr)ifd}en amerifanifdjen unb beutfii)en 2But)nungen. S)er amerifanifdje s^au§=
irirt^ ift gerûbesu ein SngeL gûr 1000 9J{arf, benn ba§ ift bex ®ur(^fd)intt3=
pxnè fiir eine 9}ier5immenî)ot)nun9 bietet er alieS 3)en!bûre. ^n einem 9'leH)=
porter 8^ûuêt)Qlt tcerben ïeine ^o^ten gebraui^t, benn aile 9laume iuerben
burd) S)am).ifï)ei5ung emarmt, fiir bie ber .spauâiuirt forgt ; ju jebev 2;age§=
ober Stadjtjeit tann mon ïjei^eê 2Baffer l)aben, benn ûiid) bies ift in ben 9JUetê=
preiSMnit einc|efd)ïoffen. O^erner liefert ber 28irt ben ©a§fod)er^ nnb ben
@iôfd)rûnt".<^ein Sieferant*^ brandit in bie 2Boi)nuni3 ju îommen : aïïeê toirb mit
bem Slnfjng'' in bie i^ô^e befbrbert, unb bie Untert)ûïtnng geîjt bnrc^ ba§
@|)rad)rof)r Dor fid). îtatiirlid) ïiefert ber SBirt aud) fiir bie ^iic^e einen
5(nric^tetifd) ^ unb ©diriinte unb ^^aneele " fiir "'^Un-jetlûn. ©ûnj befonberâ gut
ift baê 23ûbe,',immer — ^u jeber 2Botinung get)brt einô — eingerid)tet. S)er
Q^npoben beftet)t am einem bcfonberen 3t'ment mit DJÎofaitmufter. Sluf^er ber
cigenttid)en 23abceinrid)tnng ift ber 9îaum mit Spiegeln ûuêgeftûttet, nnb
ent()alt fogar einen luoljlanêgeriifteten 3lpotl)etenfd)ranf . 2Ba§ un§ an ber ame=
ri!anifd)en SKolinung nid)t gefaûen iniirbe, ift ber 3Jîangel an S^iiren, benn in
ben meiften SOotjiunujen Iningen bie einjeïnen ^innner jnfammcn nnb finb nur
burd) 3}orI)dngc uoueinauber abgetrennt. ^IIe§ in atlcm genommen'", mirtfdjaftet
bie ameritanifd)e i^-)an5frau bittiger, i^oeil fie Diel tt)euiger Wùhd braud)t aï^j
toir. S)û5u ift ba§ ©a§ in 3klî)=^ort fo iDol)ïfeil, baB bie 9}tonatSred)nung fiir
^ei^nng nnb S3eïend)tnng nnr fed)ê 9Jlart betrcigt. !3)ie 5lmerifaner fd)einen
alfo baè ^4-^robIem be§ ^auêïjaltenS, iDenigfteu'j jum 5leil, in befriebigenber
2Beife gelbft ju l)aben.
1. 9eïDof)ulic^en ^JJlcnfc^en. — 2. .^auSÏJefiljer. — 3. prix de location. — 4. fourueau à
gaz. — 5. glacière. — 6. fournisseur. — 1. moule-charge. — 8. dressoir. — 9. lambris
d'appui. — 10. à tout considérer.
Ràtsel*.
Ich weilî ein kleines ^vei^îes Haus,
Hat nichts von Fenstern, Tiiren, Toren,
Und will der kleine Wirt heraus,
So mufi er erst die Wand durclibohren ,
* Die Losuug werden unsere Léser in der uachslen JNuuimer findeu.
Les Cinq Langues
N« 13. 5 Avril 1908. g» Année.
DEUTSCHER TEIL
2)ic rtuëttiartiflc *^5iolitif 2>ctttfd)(rtiiï)è.
3toci SHc&cn.
%m 24. 3!)tdrj t)ielt ber ïlîeii^ëfanjteï ^iirft SSûïolïi bie nacf)ftef)enbe 9{ebe :
S)er §err Sjorrebner, ber îîbg. ' @iclf)0tf, ^at bie ,, Union infcrparlomentaire"
3ur 6pra(ï)c gebracfjt, bie fic^ im Cftober in Serlin cereinigen foH. 3n ÏÛiirbigung ^
ber friebïi(^en unb l)iimanen ^xzU ber ,,rnioii intci-parleuienlairo", bie bie 3]oIfê=
uertreter ber lierî(^iebenen îktionen einanber menfi^Iic^ îiaf)er briiigen unb baburdf)
politijcb bie ©intrac^t ^ uuter ben a^olïern ,311 forbern fiii^en, 6in id) gern bereit, bei
bem gmpfang biejer §erren in 23erïin mitjulinrfen. (33eifa(l.) Unb \d) ^offe, bafe fii^
bie -S^erren $l5ertreter bei uns ebenfo Uio{)( fiibleu luerben mie in anberen .<pauptftdbten,
tno ibnen ein fl)nipat^iï(î)er ©mpfang bereitet luorben ift. 23on aden anberen 9tebnern,
bie geftern unb bente haï 2Bort ergriffen baben, ift bie \ti)x unbefriebigenbe Sage in
SUÎûroïfo beriibrt luorben. ^d) frêne mi(^, bûfe bieê l)on aden ©eiten in ernfter unb
rnbiger ©arf)Ucï)feit ^ gefd)e^en ift, luenn an^ bie .*perren inebi' ober lueniger ftarfe
SBorbebalte ■ binfid;tlid} ber Sli^eiîîiiiiBiâîeit « ber militctrifdien Dperationen 3^rQnheid}ë
gemad)t nnb 3iueifel baritber geanfeert ^aben, ob baê fran3onîd)e JGorgeben ncreinbar
fei mit bem ïiJortlaut unb bem @eift ber 5[Igeciraé:3ttte. @ê ift ridjtig, bafe biefe 5(fte
allé îeilnebmer gleicbmdBig binbet, nnb es ift ineiter rid)tig, bo§ luir baranf ju aditen
^aUn, baB bie nnrtïdjafttid)e ©{eid)bere(^tigung '' nit^t nerte^t toirb, unb bafî unfere
n)irtîd)aft(id)en ^ntereffen in DJlarotfo nid)t miBad)tet luerben. S)ie 2Sid)tigîeit biefer
Sntereffen ift Don aden .s>erren, auc^ non bem .s;->erru 5(bgeorbneten Sebel, betont
morben. 3luf ber anberen ©eite IdBt ficb nid)tuerfennen, baB bie 2tusfiif)rung und)tiger
23eftimmungen ber 9lïte burd) bie llnruben in SJlaroïïo nnb uamentlid) bnrd) bie
bortigen Sb'-'O'iftreitigfeiten gebemmt luirb. ®ie franjofifi^e 9tegierung tann une nid)t
ooruierfen, ba^ loir in a]erfennung biefer Umftctnbe bie 5tlgecira5=3tfte in ïteinlic^er
ober engber.jiger 2[Beife onêgelegt bdtten. 2Sir loerbcn haè and) ïiinftig ni($t tun, aber
Uiir ermarten, ba| iîranîrci(^ feinerfeitê in gleid;er SSeife bie 9lfte in frieblid^er unb
freunblii^er 2Seife anerîennt unb bcad)tet. (a3eifaÏÏ.) 3ïuf ben allgemeinen Sbavaïter
unferer 9JlaroftopoIitif unb ouf nnfer a^erbdltniô ju g^ranîreid) brancbe id) ïjeute ni($t
nciber ein^ugeben, nac^bem id^ mid) :^ieriiber iuieberï)o(t eingef)enb oor biefem i)o\]i\x
.•paufe onegefprodien ^abi. Ûber einjelne ^^nnïte, bie in ber ®ebatte 3ur ©prad)e
gebradjt morben finb, mirb fid) mein §err 3}a($bar, ber ©taotêfetretar 0. ©cbôn
dnfeern.
©taatêfeîretar be§ îtuêtoûïttgen 3lmt§ ti. ©(^on :
2Benn id) anf bie auôiudrtigen S^ragen eingef)e, fo bitte id) um i)fac^fid)t **. Sie uierben
eê Derftefien, baB '^^ mid) anf bem ©ebiete ber auëmcirtigen ^olitif mit ciniger a>orfid)t
unb nidit mit berfelben S^reibeit beiuege, loie eê fonft JoobI ber O^aû ift. 2Jtaro!to bilbet
1. 5t6geoïbnete. — 2. cousidératioa. — 3. concorde. — 4. objectivité. — 3. réserves. —
6. opportunité. — 7. égalité des droits. — 8. indulgence.
[73] A1.LBM. 13
98 DEDTSCHER TEIL [578]
fur uiiferen Uieftïi(f)en Hiac^baru etnen luunben '■' '^^iinît. ^c^ freue tnid^ aber, gteid; non
t)ornï)erein fageii 311 ïbunen, bafe uiifere 3Je3ieî)imgcn 311 (îranfreid) in bejug auf bie
îDÎQroffo:?îrage fief) in burcîiauô novmaler unb freunblicfjer aSeifc auêgebitbet Ijaben,
unb ba% biefe auâ) fid) luicberïjolt ge^eigt ^at, folueit biefe Se^ieljungen ©egenftanb
biplomatifd^er ©rovteningen in Berlin unb !Pari§ geuiefen finb. (^Beifatl.) 3tuf
retrofpeïtilie Setracfituiigen ixber bie ^ehe, toelc^e tlirglicf) ber 5JUnifter ber auêliuirtigen
Slngelegenheiten 3^rûnfreicï)ê, §err ®elcaffé in ber franjbfififien Ranimer geljalten I)at,
unb Uield^e non ein^elnen .s^erren beriif)rt uiorben finb, ïviii ià) nïd)t eingefieu, fdbon
beêttiegeu nicïit, U'eil biefe Stuêlaffungen beê fransofifc^en 5JHnifterê in feinein eigencu
Sonbe ,5nriicfgenneftn toorben finb. ^c^ gïaube, eë genitgt, ba^ luir feftftellen, bafe bie
5}}oIitif ber je^igen fran3ofifiï)en 9îegierung in bejug auf ÎJiaroïfo lueit bcmon entfernt
ift, DJîaroffo aie ben Slngelpunït etner feiubfeïigen 33euiegung an3ufet)en, mie ba§> Hor
brei 3a{)ren ber "S-aU geuiefen ift. ®ama(C', unb barin liegt ber Unterfd)ieb 3Unfd)en ber
3eit tior brei Qal^reu unb f)eute, 3inifd)eu nnfcrer SteEung non bamaïê unb ïiente, finb
l'oir genbtigt inorbcu, aud) unferfeitê ben §ebel '"^ an jenen ^uuït 3U fel^eii, Uienn and)
nidjt, um bie 2Belt an^ iljreu 3lngeln 3U (^eben, fo bod) uni ba^j ©teic^gelindit " U)ieber
^er3ufte[Ien, nidjt nm in 9}larot'fo feften lyn]] 3U faffen, fonberu uiu nnfere ^ntfi'fffe»
gu bftonen unb 3U uia^reu. Sa§ ^rgebniê uuferer ©d)ritte ift bie 3tIgeciraê=^ouferen3
unb bie 3Ugeciraô=2lfte gemefen. 2tn bicfer internattoualen a^ereinbarung ftalteu mir
uniierri'icïbar '- feft ; fie ift unb bleibt f iir une bie fefte 93afié unferer 'Stetlung 3U ben
maroffanifc^en Singen. 9Jteffen tnir nun biefe i>organge in DJlarofïo au biefem Slït, fo
initffeu Uiir gegeni'tber ben fîeptifd^en unb ironifd^en 93einerfungen, Uield)en biefeê
®oînment l^ier unb ba in ber Cffenllidifeit unb !^ier im .'paufe begegnet ift, baran
feftf)aïten, bafe eiue tiare JBerle^ung'^ ber 3ngeciraê4lfte burd) 3^ranfreic^ biôl)er nid)t
]^at ïonftatiert Uierben ïbnneu. SBir biirfen uid)t ans bem 3tuge lierlicren, bafj bie
fran3bfifd)en ©taatsmauncr I)infid)tlid) ber niarotfauifd)en ^olitif bie 3tlgeciraô=3lfte
ftetô aie nerbinbïid) '' bc3cid)uet I]abeu. 5î3or uienigen Slageu ift in eiuer frau3ofifd)eu
^eitung baâ ©eriidjt '■• entftoubcu, ^yrantreidj beufe an eiue ^iiubiguug ber 3ligeciraè=
Slfte. ®iefe§ (Seriid)t ift fofort oon 3nftanbiger ©eite benteutiert uiorben. 2ÛiebcrI)Dlt
]^at bie fran3ofifd)e Sîegicrung in ber ïi>otteiiertretuug nuter Iebl)after ^iiftinimiing
berfetbeu erîlcirt, ba'ii if)r in be3ng auf 5Jlarofto jebe ©roberungepolitiî ferniiege, unb
baf; fie aud; fein ^h-otcftorat erftrebe, bafj fctne ©rpebition nad; 3^eè ober 5Jhu'rafefd)
beabfid)tigt fei, baf] bie uiilitdrifdie 3lftion nidjté anbereo im 3luge i^abt aie bie
28iebert)erftetlnng Don JRuIje unb Crbunug, boB bie 23efeljuug '", 3U ber fie ge3Uniugcii
Uidre, nur ooriibergebenben Gbai'uftersj fei, unb bafj fie fid) ftrcng unb torreft im
9îaï)mcn ber 3ngeciraê=3ltte beUiege. @iue gleid)e ®rtldruug l^at bie fran3iififd)e îHegie-
ruug nn§i nneberI)oIt burd) if)ren 2îotfd)after I)ier gebeu laffcn. 3ln biefer ®rîldrung ber
frau3ofifc^en ^iepublif miiffen Uiir une t)alten, an i^rcr 2lufrid)tigfeit unb Sol)aIitdt barf
bie faiferlid)e 3legieruug feinen 3>feifel ijeQtn. Wix fd^eint, bafî mon fid) bei ber
Seurteilung ber iiorgduge in îJîaroffo folgenbc'j ftar3umad)en f)at. ®ie 3Ugcciras=3Ifte
regelt ein beftimmtcê ©ebiet in interuationalcr -ffieife. Saueben bleibt aber nod) 9laum
fiir felbftdnbtge 3lfte, moburd) bie 5Dldd)te, bie bie 3tfte international unterfd)rieben
baben, fid) feiue^uiegô beê 9ied)t^ begeben, fiir flagrante îjjerleljnngeu if)rer befonbereu
91ec^te uub ^titcreffeu ein3Utreten. îtatiirlid) ninfj im allgemeiueu bem ©ruubfa^ ber
Uuabr)dngigteit OJtarottO'j, ber ^ntegritdt DJtaroftoô unb ber unrtfd)aftlid)en (SIcid)-
berei^tiguug aller 9îationcn Sîec^uung getragen merben '\
9iatfclaufldfutt(t (Siehe Nuinmer 12) : :\. Brief.
y. faible. — tO. levier. — H. éiiuilihrc. — 12. iiivariablenicul. — \'i. violalioi;. — 1^
iligaloire. — \l\. bruil. — 16. occupatiou. — 17. èlre teuu coinple du.
[579j
DEUTSCHER TEIL
y9
<Siimmcn &eê 2tuêïrtn^ê ûbcv 9ttd)ar^ S$ta(|ncr.
58et ©etegen'^eit be§ fiinfunbjtoansinften îobeêtagcS Jliic^arb SBognerg (13. geïirunr) !^at
ba§ Serliner ïageBIntt felbftanbige ' (^eifter in berfrfjiebenen Sanbetn um il)rc 9(nfid^t Û6er
ben ÏCert bev 3cf)ot)fiingen be§ groBen .iTomponifteu befvogt.
SSir teileii haè Sïgetmië biejer UtTtftage mit :
gttoaê ©einic^f- f)at eê ineaeicf)t, boB icf) Dîic^arb 2Bagner atâ S)icï)tcr fioc^ItcO uerclire.
©eine bicf)teriî($e 23egû6ung fc^eint m\x
nic^t tiDÏÏ gemi'trbigt 311 fein. SBave er tnir
2ertbic^ter genjffcn, cr f]Qtte aie iod^er
@pod)e getnacf)t.
3^iir bie novbif d)e ©ntuncEeîung ber SDtitfiî
unb infofern fiir bie norbifcfie ^uïtur l^at
fein ©ente Unberedfienbareë gcleiftet^ ïïtnx
ift eë fi'tr une Bebaitcrlif^, ha% cr, 3"ÏPiïa=
tionen fiir feinen ,,9îing" fuc^enb, nic^t aii§
ben ûlten, reinen norbtïcf)eu Guetten tranï,
nicfjt tne:^r don bem f)erben unb 2ôortfargeu,
bem uiilb ®nergif(^en, ber ,,6bba=Sieber"
unb ber altfïanbiuûlnf(^en ©agen in fein
SÏBefen aufnatjnt. ®abur(^ unirbe bie SStrs
îung biefer 5Dlufif xm ï)o^en ^Jîorben tiefer
getoorben fein. SOtotite, bie bem norbifc^en
Slltertum fo fernïagen toie ©eftïiluifterliebe,
uiirîen ïiefrembenb. DJlir f($etnt ber ©etft
SBagnerë Derluanbter mit Stoffen tuie,,2ûnn=
l)dufer", ben ,,30Reifterfingern", ^îriftan"
aU mit bem fieibnifc^ ©tarïen unb g^rifdien ber Sigurb^Steber. S>e§^aI6 fiat er inoî)!
anâ) bttê Dîideïungentieb norge^ogen.
Ser ÏÔiberftanb gegen SBagner wax in Sanemarï niemalê ftarï unb ift je|t auê=
geftorben. ©eine Cpern merben al^ bie ^auptopern ber ïonigIicf}en 23iif)ue in .^open=
^agen betrad^tet, obmot)! bie 3lu§fiif)rung fief) nur auënot)mëUieife iiber ein refpeïtabte§
93littelmafe ' erfiebt.
.fîopenf)agen. ©eorg Sranbeê-"'.
^â) glaube nt($t, bafe ai>agnerê grofee 9Jhifiî auf bie europciifc^e lîultur einen
einftufe geiibt ï)at. ®ie 93hifif linrft auf bie (îrregungen« unb bie ©efût)te, nid)t auf bie
3(nteiïigen,v ®ie alten 9ltt)ener, beren 9Jîufiï ficE) bo($ ïaum iiber ben ,,Canto feraio"
erl^ob, toareu gebilbeter aU inir. ©ijilien unb (s'ampanien, bie bie grlifeten DJhxeftri
!^ernorbra(ï)ten, tcaren bie tcenigft gebilbeten ©egenben ^talienê.
2urin. gefare Sombrofo.
3(î) glaube, ba^ bie a]eraEgemeinerung beê ©tubiumâ ber ÏÏGagnerfcEien Cpern,
foiDcit fie nid^t in fïladifc^e 9k(ï)at)mung auêartete, in italien gum ®rtoa(^en ernfterer
unb tieferer mufifalifcber gnergie beitrug. 3t0er bie toefentUi^ tï)eatralifc^e Senbenj
be§ ïateinifc^en ©eifteë, bie auf bie unmittelbare ©eefeuerregung unb bie mit fjeniftïier
iRidjarb 28ngner.
1. originaux. — 2. importance. — 3. a exercé une influence incommensurable. —
médiocrité. — 3. SSeriiîjmtct lîtitifer unb Citeratuï'^tftoriîeï. — 6. émotions.
100
DEUTSCHER TEIL
15801
©ic^erl^eit auSgebrûctte menfcE)ïi(ï)e aSa^r:^ett aiiëgel^t^ ift betn ÏBagnerfd^en ©Qftem bon
D^atitr au§ entgegengefe|t itnb toenbet fi(^ bieïïeid^t berett§ anberen 3:enben3en git, bie
môgtic^eruieij'e vetioïuttonnrer, abex einfac^er iinb gefûf)îbotter finb.
931at(anb. ©iacomo ^^uccint.
©eit 2;j 3al)ren ift 9itcî)arb SOSagner tôt; feit 50 Sîa^ren îxientgftenâ erortert ^ man
ïieftdnbig fetue ÏÛerfe. ^^ fetbft ^aht mef)rmat'j ùber bicfen ©egenftanb geftf)rie(ien.
2Baê fonnte icf) [)tn,5uïiïgen, ba§ nic^t jc^on fiunbertfacf; gefagt unb gefcfjrieben morben
todre?
®er Sinftiife beâ 28agnertant§mu§ auf bie 3eitgenoïfij'cf)e îprobuîtion feftjitftetteit, ba^
toiirbe eine ganje ©tubie unb ben ©toff 311 einem 23anbe abgeben. ^ti )r)enigen SBorten
ift bie S^rage nicîit 311 beantioorten.
^oiro. gamiïïe ©aint=©aën§.
3f(ï} ï)eUiQt)re filr baè SSerf 5Ric^arb SSagnerçj, ber bie J^reube unb ba§ 8icf)t meiner
^ugetib Uiar, tiefe 33euninbentng, fromme 3lntictung unb aufrid^tige ©anïbavfeit.
^ûri^. 93incent b'^nbl^
3(ï| tjerabfctjeue 2Bagnerê ^erfon unb fein 2Bort. 5Jteiu ïeibenfc^aftlic^er SBiberuùtte^
l^at fic^ feit meiner Jîinbf)eit nur noc^ Dertieft. ®iefeê erftaunlid^e ©enie fpenbet
lueniger ®nt3iictung, niè ce 3evmntmt"'. ÎBieïcn ©nobê, Siteraten unb Summïopfen I)at
er ertaubt 3U UniOneu, fie ïicbten bie 9Jtufif, unb eiuige ^iinftlev in ben ^ïi'tit"' berfeljt,
©cnie fei 3U erlernen. S)eutfrf)Iaub I]at liieKeidit nie ettiniê eiv^eugt, ba^ 3U gïeicfier 3ftt
fo grofe \vax unb fo barbarifd).
5Pari§. 3Inbré ©ibe.
(^Çottfcljung foïgt.)
7. recherche. — 8. commente. — 9. répulsion. — 10. écrase, anéantit.
Der Osterhas.
Der Has, der Has, der Osterhas
Lst eben fortgesprungen ;
Wir hiitten gerne ihn erwischt,
Doch ist's uns nicht gelungen.
GewiÊ hat Eler er gelegt
In aile dunkeln Ecken !
Das Osterhâslein liebt es sehr,
Die Eier zu vcrslecken.
Wir siichen iil)erii]l mit Fleift.
.luchhe ! Juchhe ! gefunden !
Seht lier ! ein rotes Hasenei ;
Das soll mir trefflich munden !
Die Hiihner legen vveifie nur,
Die Hasen aber rote
l'nd gelbe, blaue auch dazu ;
So ist es Hasenmode.
Die sdimecken noch cinmal so gut,
Doch das ist unsre Klage,
Dafi uns der Has nur Ostern legt
Und nicht an jedem Tage.
Gewiiikouimtauch im nilchstenJahr
Der Osterhas gegangen ;
Dann geben aile wir recht acht,
Daniit wir ihn uns fangen.
Mit bunten Blumen wollen wir
Ihn tultern und ihn pflegen !
Daftir soll er uns aile Tag
Viel Ostereier legen !
DiEFFENBACH.
[581] DEUTSCHER TEIL 101
^cl^cnto^> *.
Y
3X6ertr)o luar ex beiiit niir? 2}on SBagcii 511 2Bagcn flogeti bie 93Iide aûev,
am ang[tt)oUfteii bie bcr ÎJcûtita, btc jeben 3lugenb(icf bie 23clinnitug ' 311 bevUeren
fi'trc^tcte. £), bci ©ottcô ©nabc, luie entfel^ficÈ) Wiih fcî)Iiig it)ï ba§ §er,^ !
^etit offnete etii 5}iann bie 5£ure eiiicâ ÏOageiiêi, Dor bem juft bcralte Se]d)to
mit feiner S^oc^ter ftanb. 33hil)]am, iniit)iam, totenbleicf) unb luaiiïeîib, an] beii
5Xrm beê {)iîfreid)en ©tïiûffnerô t3eftii|it, entftieg DJlicfiat Sobicfi biefem SBageit
unb ftanb ).iIo|li(^ neben ber 3Jtania. SBavc es nicf)t fc^on fo bunfel unb bûS
5)JctroîcumIicf)t ber ein,^igeu 58a^nîioî(ampc nic()t )o frûftloô getnefen, f)atte il^n
bie Htania geun| crtaiiut. ©0 nber fn(] fie il)n fauni au. Srft alâ fie itjren
9îamen leife, ganj (eife unb îc(]iicl)teru gefprodjen t)brte, fut)r fie ^ufammen unb
ftarvte, non ©raufen burd)bebt, bcn armfeligeu -^rlippet an. Unb bann fd)rie
fie furd^tbar auf : „93tid)at !" unb ftiir,^te befinnungâloê jur Srbe, nod) e()e i^r
9}Qter, bem ha§ ®ntfe^en g(eid)fnltd bie 5trme td{)mte, bie ©teitenbe auf5ufan=
gen nermodjte.
®ie anbereu ()ntten ben ©c^recfenovuf beô SJÎabd)en5 uernommen unb bucingten
nun ber ©telle ^u. Unb ba iDurbe eôftitl. i)htr ba§ ©d)naubcn ber Sofomotioe
unb haQ 9îollen ber Oîdber ^brte man. %iè ûud) biefe^j @erctuf(^ Derftummt mar,
]^errfd)te 3^riebt)ofSrul)e, ein ©t^meigen, baS ein .SÔcrj brec^cn fonute. Peiner
rii^rte fief), biâ plô^lii^ ber alte 2efd)fo fd)impfte : „Psia krew! Ceute, feib i^r
ûugefruren ober t)ût eud) ©otteô 2)onner getroffen? ©0 t)elft mir bocf), mein
îbc^terd)en auf ben ÏGagen fd)affen !"
©tumin fa^ten einige DJtdnner haè ftarr liegenbe 91îdbd)en unb trugen eS
5um SBagen. 5tnbcre, fo 9}tdnner loie ^rauen, fd)lofîen fid) i()nen an mit
fd)leic^enben ©c^ritten. ©teic^ barauf prte man ben ©a(opp eineâ ^ferbdjenâ
unb ba§ 9îaîfe(n ber Sritfd)fa.
?luf bem 58a(]n(]ofe luar eS nod) immer toteufttU, gan^, gan,^, ftiû. ^d^- aber
jerrifî ein î'aut biefe ©tille, ein Saut, ber fait in atie ^erjen brang. Xaè mar
ber 9Jîid)al Sobirfi, ber fd)Iud),^te, 0 giitige 'lUutter ber ©naben, jo grdv,tid)
fc^fuc^jte, luie nur 5Jldnner fd)Iud)3cn fbunen.
Sa gefd}a() etmas ©eltfameS : ber ^afper ©arouucj fd)ritt auf ben toeinenben
â'riippel gu unb fprad), er, beffcn ©timmtlang man beina()e oergeffeu ï)atte.
„0, 5Jtic^aI, mein lieber ©d)luager," fagte er, „bu bift ein gro^er §elb, unb
ic^ liebe bic^, fo \vat)ï ©ott mir ^elfe. ©ei mir loiUtommen !" Unb er fiil^te ben
3!Jlt(ï)aI auf beibe SBangen.
Wit eiuem Tlai fanben nun auc^ aile anbereu bie ©prad)e wieber unb
jubelten nod) ïauter aie ^noor unb begriiBteu unb priefen i()ren l)eimgefef)rten
§elben. 3)ie -iîatja fiel it)m um ben ^alô unb beteuerte fc^lud)'3enb : „3di liebe
bid), 5IJiid)al, mein 33ruber, fo lualjr ic^ eine gute Œbriftin bin unb felig loerbeu
toill. ^omm, mein teurer §elb !"
Ser 'Utic^al fd)ûttelte traurig ba^j §aupt unb fagte nur leife : „2)ay ©e^en ift
fo fc^toer, fo fcf)tuer. î*iebe ^atja, 0, l)aft bu beiu ÏSdgeli^eu mit?"
9îein, ben 2!5agen Ijatte fie oergeffeu, ein anberer loor nidjt ^ur ©telle, unb
ber SCGeg iu'â 2)orf loar weit, 5U uieit fiir einen armen, beè ©el)en§ ungelooljuteu
©tel,5fu|.
* ©ie^e bie tiier anbern 2eUe.
1. connaissance. — 2. pïoijlic^.
102 DEUTSCHRR TKIL [582j
®tn 93urfd)e fam ûu| eitien ©ebanîen, ben alïc ubrigen fogïeic^ mit ^ubel
begrit^ten. „2Bii- tragen unferen §elben im S;riitmpf) un S)or|," fdjrie cr.
,,Psia krew, ton finb ^^atrioten unb gutc (Sï)riftcn."
„3a, toir finb ce, bci meiitcr ©eele," fagte bie ^atjû. „5ïnberc Ceutc finb e§
nid)t." garnit mcinte fie Uio()ï ben Cefd)to unb beffen 3:od)ter.
èer 50Md)aï tt)eï)rtc fdimeqUd) ab. „5d) bitte eud), tut eê nidjt," bnt er. „^sà)
bitte end),"
Slber bûê ï)alf iï)m nid)t. S\m\ fraftige Siirfd)en t)obentï)nauf bie ©c^uïtern
— unb fort ging c§. S)er Jîriippeï bi^ fid) bie ^ippen blutig, uni nid)t ju
fd)reien. S)cnn bie ©tra^e tnar botpei^ig, î'-ub e§ tat bem 93îi(^nl in ntlen
©liebcrn met), menn feine 3:;ragev ftoïpertcn ober ©d)ritt iDec^feïtcn ober ju
ungeftiim'' liefen. Unb ba§ uiieberboïtc fid) oft. yant(o§Uicinte beripelb nor fid)
f)tn. S)ie il)n trugen unb bie t)OV it)ni unb binter ibni einf)ergingen, fie ntlc fa()en
e§ nid)t ; e§ n3nu \a bunfel.
(S^ortfe^ung foigt.)
Q^riebrid) 2Bernev nnn Deftéren.
3. impétueiisemenl.
Fichtenbaum und Palme*.
Ein Ficlitenbaum steht eiiisam
Im Norden auf kahler Hôh'
Ihn schliifert; mit weifier Decke
Umhiillen ihn Eis und Schnee.
Er tràumt von einer Palme,
Die i'ern im Morgenland
Einsam und schweigend trauert
Auf hrennender Felsenwand.
Heinrich Heime.
* Siehe die ilhersetziine in dem fianzosischen Teil
Oslerbrauch',
I
Osterwasser ! Ostereier ! Osterfeuer ! Ostern steht, wo immer es auch -
gefeiert \vird,ini Zeichen" dieser'drei Ostersynibole. Auch das Osterfeuer
wird nach vvie vor dazu gerechnet werden, wenn es auch vor mehreron
Jahren in einem Kreise der Provinz Westfalen verboten wurde. Als Grund '-
des Verbots galt nicht die Feuersgefahr, die allerdings oft sehr groft ist,
sondern uach der landriitlichen Hekanntmachung" derUmstand, daftdie
Osterfeuer « Uberreste ans altheidnischer Zeit seien und mit chrisllicher
Weltanschauung nichts zu ton hal)en ».
Wenn vielleicht anch in diesem Kreise wirksam^wird jenes Verbol die
\ . Oslern, Pâques. — 2. en quelque endroit que. — 3. sovs te signe. — 4. inotif.
5. information. — 6. efficace.
[583J DEDTSCliER TEIL 103
alten Volksbràuche, die fast aile ans heidnischer Zeit slammen, nicht
aiisroUen '' kônneii. Demi sie haben Jahrtausende ûberdauert, sind innig
niitder Volksseele verwachsen, und die heiitige Génération iiàngt daran,
trotzdem ihr der Ursprung meist ganz frenid ist und die heidnische Be-
deutung ebenfalls.
Dann miifite man logischer Weise ja auch die Silte der Ostereier
abstellen, noch mehr aber den Osterliasen verbannen, der doch das
gelieiligte ïier der Gôttin Ostara** war. Was finge nnsere kleine Welt wohl
ohne den obligaten ^ Osterhasen an, der die mehr oder minder schmack-
haften Eier legt, der die Osterpiippchen versteckt und noch sonstige
reizende Ostergeschenke bringt?Kein Gesetz der Welt vvird je an diesem
Volkshasen rûtteln und — die Sage von Ostaras Hasen fiir heidnisch er-
kliirend — in logischer Folgeriing schulmâfiigen Naturgeschichts-
unterrichts das Huhn an seine Stelle trelen lassen. Mit dem Verbot des
Usterhasen kâme dann das der Ostereier, und unser Usterl'esl ware uni
viele Reize armer, auch die Fabrikanten, die Kùnstler, die Zucker-
warenindustrie mufiteaufden Gewinn der Osterzeit verzichten '" und das
kann nicht sein.
Fast aile Volksbràuche, fast aile Festsymbole, selbst die iiblichen
Speisen, gehôren der heidnischen Zeit an, und weil die Kirche dièse
Branche bestehen lieFs, uni die christlichen Feste desto volkstûn)licher zu
machen, sind sie tief in die Volksseele eingedrungen. Nicht ailes wollte
man dem Volke mit seinen Gottern rauben, und das war eine grofte
KIngheit seitens der christlichen Lehrer und Bekehrer, Die Religion der
dentschen Heiden war eine Naturreligion, und daruni spielt ailes, waszur
Naturgehôrt, Wasser und Feuer, Tiere und PHanzen, noch immer eine
grofie Rolle ini Volksbrauch, im Volksglauben und in der Volkssitte. Dazu
geselltsich noch die Ubereinstimmuiig" der Festsymbole in den raumlich*^
oit so weitgetrennten Landern ; die Ûbereinstimmung der Sitte des Oster-
wassers und des Glaubens an seine Heilkral't und dergleichen mehr.
Feuer, Wasser und Eier — aile drei sind Bild oder Kraft neuspriefienden
Lebens und dadurch voni Auferstehungsfest'-^ unzertrennlich.
Mit dem Osterfeuer wollte man die immer mehr znr vollen Kraft und
Hôhe strebende Sonne unterstiitzen, ihr gleichsam zur Hilfe komnien.
Die Feuer werden gewôhnlich nicht mit Streichhôlzern entzïuidet,
sondern dnrch Stahl und Stein oder durch Reibung'^ zweier Hôlzer
aneinander. Es mubte ein nenes, reines, jungfràulichcs Feuer sein,
welches der steigenden Sonne zu Ehren brannte, denn man hofl'te von
ihm, sogar noch von seinem Rauch und seiner Asche, wohltuende,
befruchtende und bose Wetter abwehrende Kraft. Soweitder Rauch iiber
die Felder zieht, so glaubt man in vielen Gegenden Deutschlands, soweit
gedeiht'^ ailes und gibt gute Ernte. Und die Asche wird fein sànberlich
gesammelt und auf Feld und Weide gestreut, um sich da, wohin der
Rauch nicht kam, auch des Erntesegens zu versichern. Diesen Glauben
tinden wir in Franken, in Bayern, im Harz, in Weslfalen, in Oldenburg,
in Schlesien, in der Mark, usw.
Auch die Sitte des Osterwassers ist weit verbreitet, man kennt sie in
Nord- und Siiddeutschland, in Ôsterreich, sogar in Rnfiland.
1. extirper. — 8. Oàtar (= ostwarts) bezeichnet die RichluDg gegeu xMorgen, uud so
wird Ostara eine Gôttin des aufsteigenden Lichtes gewesen sein, der Morgenrôte und des
Fruhlings. — 9. obligatoire. — 10. renoncer. — 11. concordance. — i'-i- dans l es-
pace. — 13. fête de la résurrection. — 14. frottement. — 15. réussit.
104 DEOTSCHER TEIL [584J
Das lebendig fliefeende Wasser liât seit jeher eine Rolle im Yolksglauben
iind -brauch gespielt.
In manchen Gegendeii der Mark Brandenburg ist die Meinung ver-
breitet, dab das Osterwasser besonders gûnstig l'iïr das Gedeihen und
Wohlbefmden der Pferde sei. Man holt also nicht allein um Mitternacht
das Osterwasser, um sie damit zu waschen, sondern man geht hier und
dort sogar mit den Pl'erden in die Schwemme^''. Natùrlich aber liegt der
besondere AVert des Osterwassers auch in seiner Heilkraft fur die Menschen
und darin, dab es ein vorziigliches Schônheitsmitte! ist. Yielfach glaubt
man sogar, daiî es verjiingend wirkt. Oft machen sich ans diesemGrunde
die Mâdchen auf, das Osterwasser zu schôpfen. In froher, heiterer
Gesellschaft wâre das ja eigentUch nnn ein Spab und ein Yergnùgen.
Aber um eben einige scbwer zu iiberwindende ^^ Schwierigkeiten hierbei
zu schatï'en, erCand der Volksbrauch mehrere Bedingiingen, die lïir die
absolute Heilkraft des Wassers erst maiîgebend sind : Das schôpfende
Madchen muft um Mitternacht das Wasser holen, und sie darf dabei
weder ein Wort sprechen noch lachen.
Um das Holen zu erschweren und nameritiicli die Bedingungen abso-
luten Ernstes und Schweigens auC die Probe zu stellen, linden sich
natûrbchguteFreundeein, diedie Madchen iinter Scherz und Neckereien"*
verfolgen, dafùr aber schliefilich durch Begiefien mit Wasser gestraft
werden. SoU das \N'asser aber weissagende '^ Kraft haben, so darf ein
Madchen niemals von einem jungen Burschen beim Schôpfen beiauscht^"
werden. In Bayern, z. B. in der Gegend von Bayreuth, Avirft man kleine
Uinge von Weidenruten -' ins Wasser, die je eine bestimmte Person
bezeichnen ; wessen Uing untersinkt, bat UngUïck, mufisterben und was
dergleichen unheilvolle Prophezeiungen mehr sind.
Wenn nun Osterfeuer und Osterwasser Festsymbole sind, die fast nur
in der Bevôlkerung des plalten Landes oder kleiner Stiidtenoch lebendig
bleiben, so sind die Ostereier ùberall verbreitet, und viele Fabrikationen
liaben Teil daran, indem sie dem « echten » Ei mitalleriiand Siilsigkeiten,
Attrappen, Spieizeug, sogar mit Eiern von frischen Bbimen Konkurrenz
machen. In der Grobstadt ist das Osterei ein Festgeschenk geworden ; die
symbolische Deutung, die den Eiern z. B. in den ôsterreichischen
Làndern, in verschiedenen siiddeutschen und norddeutschen Gegenden
beigelegt wird, ist im Laufe der Zeit vollstandig verloren gegangen. Wer
ahnt in der Grobstadt etwas von den Wundereiern desGrûndonnerstags-^
den Pascheiern oder den Antlafi-Eiern ? Der Volksghiube legte ihnen
Zauberkralt i)ei, die sogar noch den zerbrochenen Schalen, seibst dem
Wasser verbleibt, in dem sie gekocht wurden.
Yiell'ach wurden dièse Eier am ersten Osterfeiertag besonders in der
Kirche geweiht und erhielten dadurch segnende Kraft. Man wavï die
Schalen solcher Eier ûber das Dach des Hanses ; bis wohin sie zur Erde
lielen, blieb die Umgebung des Hanses dann sicher vor Feuersgefahr;
man trug in Holstein die kleingestampften Schalen auf den Acker, damit
er gut trage, und zerstampfte sie ans dem Grur^de, damit « keine Hexe
darin nisten kônne ».
[Foriseizinig fohjl.)
16. abreuvoir.— lï.ubenvindeo ~ bcsiegen — 18. taquineries. — 11), prophétique.
— 20. épiée. — 21, bcKjuettes de saule. — 22. Jeudi saint.
Les Cinq Langues
N« 14. 20 Avril 1908. 8» Année.
DEUTSCHER TEIL
Der Fremdenverkehr ' Europas.
Mit den Fortschritten der internationalen Verkehrsmittel hat der Fremden-
verkehr, dessen Hebung- jetzt auch in Berlin angeslrebt wird, fiir die euro-
pâischen Mittelstaaten eine steLig wachsende Bedeutiing gewonnen. Nichtnnr
Italien und die Schweiz, auch Frankreich verdankt einen entscheidenden Teil
seines nationalen Einkommens^ den Fremden, und es wird manchon liber-
raschen, dafj die Summen, die von Reisenden in Frankreich zuriickgelasscn
werden, 2000 Millionen Mark erreichen. Pariser Bankiers geben eine nocb
hôhere Zahl an, 2400 Millionen Mark. Das bedeutet eine Einnahme von nicht
weniger als 64 Mark aiif den Ropf der Bevolkerung, eine Ziffer, die sich
neben den 100 Mark pro Kopf, die der Export franzôsischer Zeugnisso
darstellt, nicht zu verstecken braucht. Die Schweiz bezieht von den Fremden
einen hoheren Gewinn, als ihr Aufienhandel abwirft, iind auch die italieni-
schen Nationalôkonomen haben kiirzlich einraumen'*^ miissen, daB das Gold
der fremden Touristen der italienischen Industrie und dem Handel noch
heute die Wage-' hàlt. Die Einnahmen Italiens ans dem Fremdenverkehr
werden auf nicht weniger als 400 Millionen im Jahr geschatzt, also nahezu
die gleiche Bruttosumme wie der Gesamtexport in den Monaten Januar l)is
Mai. Selbst der reiche John Bull verkennt nicht den Goldstrom, den die
Fremden, insonderheit die Amerikaner, ihm zufiihren, und auch Deutschland,
Àgypten und Norwegen und Holland verdanken der Reiselust wesentliche
Einnahmen. Im wesentlichen freilich mufî nian den Englandern und
Deutschen einriiumen, daÊ sie zur Befriedigung der eigenen Reiselust mehr
ausgeben, als sie von Fremden zuriickerhalten. Seit jeher ist der Reise-
verkehr mit dem Steigcn und Fallen der allgemeinwirtschaftlichen Lage
unlôslich^ verkniipft, und daraus auch erkliirl sich der gewaltige Aufschwung'',
den seit dem Jahre 1900 der Fremdenverkehr genommen. Das Dampferwesen,
die Eisenbahnen haben eine gewaltige Arbeit geleistet; allein die SchifTahrts-
gesellschaften halien in den letzten Jahren fïir 400 Millionen neue Prachtschift'e
erbaut, die im wesentlichen dem Personenverkehr dienen. London, vor zehn
Jahren noch die Stadt der schlechtesten Fremdenversorgung, hat mehr als
ein Dutzend luxuriôser Riesenhotels neu errichtet, Paris hat seine Hotels
verdoppelt, und selbst die italienischen Fremdenstalten haben ihre anfecht-
bare^ Romantik im allgemeinen zugunsten orhôhten Komforls geopfert^.
Es ist nicht zu verkennen, dafi der reisende Amerikaner einen Hauptfaktor
in dieser schnellen Entwickelung darstellt. Die Zeit liegt nicht allzu lange
zuriick, da die Amerikaner fiïr Europanur knapp'° vier Monate opferten ; der
Mai und der Juni brachte eine Hochflut von transatlantischen Touristen, die
dann im August und Soptember wieder restlos verschwand. Jetzt beginnt
man in der neuen Welt schon unmittelbar nach Weihnachten die Koffer zu
1. mouvement des étrfnujers en... — 2. augmentation. — 3. revenu. — 4. recon-
naître. — 5. balance. — 6. indissolublement. — 1. essor. — 8. contestable.— 9,
sacrifié.— 10. tout juste.
[79] AV.Kv. 14
106
DEUTSCHE R TEIL
[626]
paekcn, uud die Mittelmeerschiffe vom Januar bis Mai sind schon monatelang
vorher aiisvei'kaiift. In Italien kann man haute von einer ununterbrochenen
Fremdenzeit sprechen, die Furcht vor der Sommerglut und dem Fieber ist
geschwunden, und die Zeiten, in denen friiher niemand nach Mittel- und
Siiditalien reiste, werden heuteals die herrlichsten gepriesen. Der Englànder
verbringt seinen Winter im Engadin^. in Montreux, St. Morilz und Grindel-
wald, und der machtig aufbliïhende Wintersport vergrôfiert von Jahr zii Jabr
die Zabi der Wintergiiste. Paris ist freilich noch immer das erste Sehnsuchts-
ziel des Reisenden, und hier stellen Engliinder und Amerikaner die ûber-
wiegende Zahl der Gâste. Aber auch die bisher stark vernachlassigten
Provinzialstadte, die Schlofsgegenden, nehmen neuerdings dank dem stei-
genden Automobilverkehr an dem Verkehr wachsenden Anteil. Die Zahl der
Automobilreisenden, die im Sommer in Europa unterwegs waren, wird auf
8000 Reisegesellschaften, — unter ihnen nicht weniger als 40,000 Amerikaner
— berechnet. In der Schweiz bat sich das Hotelvvesen, der entscheidende
Gradmesser, vom Jahre 1880 bis heute nahezu verdoppelt, die Zahl der Hotels
ist von 1080 auf 2000 gestiegen, und die Einnahmen der Gastwirte iiberstiegen
200 Millionen Francs. Intéressant ist ein Vergleich der AngestelltenzahP' in
der Schweiz ; die gesamle Landwirtschaft beschaftigt 45,000 Arbeiter, die
Fabriken annahernd die gleiche Zahl, die Uhrmacher und Goldarbeiter
44,000 Angestellte und das Ilotelwesen 33,480.
Unter den Schweizer Touristen stehen die Deutschen mil t'ast einem Drittel
aller Gaste an erster Stelle. In ?sorwegên dagegen dominiert Amerika unter
den 20,000 Reisenden, die alljahrlich i2 Millionen im Lande lassen. L'ber die
Zahl der Amerikaner, die alljahrlich nach Europa reisen, gehen die Angaben
auseinander ; die genauesten Berechnungen schwanken zwischen 125- bis
150,000 Personen, die der alten Welt jiihrlich 3- bis 600 Millionen Mark gutes
Geld zuiragen. Paris gebiihrt der Lôwenanteil an dor Einnahme, annahernd
dreimal soviel vvie i)eutschland und England. Italiens Einnahmen von den
reisenden Amerikanern entsprechen annahernd den deutschen und englischen
zusamnien.
11. nombre des employés.
Friihlingslied.
1.
Der Schnee zerrinnt,
Der Mai beginnt,
Die Bliiten keimen
Auf Gartenbàumen,
Und Vôgelschall
Tônt iiberall.
Pfliickt einen Kranz
Und haltet Tanz
Auf griinen Auen ',
Ihr schônen Frauen,
1. prairies.
Wo junge Mai'n-
L'ns Kiibluns streun,
Wer weifi, wie bald
Die Glocke schallt,
Da wir des Maien
Uns nicht mehr freuen,
Wer weili, wie bald
Sie leider schallt !
Drum werdet froli !
Gott will es so,
Uer uns dies Leben
Zur Lust gegeben.
Geniefît der Zeit,
Die Gott verleiht!
L. H. Ch. IIÔLTY.
fiischer, grûner Zweig.
[627] DEDTSCHER TEIL 107
@ine |o £)e3ief)ungêrei(ï)e ^roge fûnn id^ in menigen 36ilsn i^tc§t beantluorteiu 3(^
ijabe tï)r mel^rcre lange ©tubien geunbmet unb rebe mir nid^t ein \ aQe ©eiten be§ ^ro^
btems gepri'ift 311 tjahen. Sa ©te jebodj mir einige 2gorte iniinj'cfien, barf ic^ folgenbeê
jagen :
1. Ser 6inf(u& beë JÏCngnevianiêinuê in {yvanîreitf) ift gegenuiârtig in Douer
Sïbna^me'^ èegriffen. Songe ^al)Xi l^inburc^ ï)at ber 5)ramaturg 2ûagner une in bem
©rabe :^t)j3notiitert, ba'Q unfere 93lufiïer iï}n ïne(ï)tif(^=' na(5af)mten. Cber menn fie fi(§
aie originale, getoiffen^^afte ^om^joniften fûïjtten, "^ielten fie fi(^ ïieBer bem S{)eater
fern, ba fie eine neue O^ornteï nid^t 311 erfinben iiermocïiten unb ÎCagner nitf^t ïopieren
txiotlten. Sie nnbmeteu fief) ber Si)mpî)onie unb ber i?ammermufif.
®aê realiftifc^e Srama fon Sruneau unb {ff)arpentier ijat bie ïlhifiïer jur ©3ene
juriicfgefiilirt. S)ann ^aben bie Qbeen fid^ entiuidelt, unb tcir fe^en, ba% 2)e6uffi) unb
S)uïaë iï)re ber dramaturgie Don SSal^reutl) fe^r entgegengefefeten ©ramen auf baê
Sweater gebrad^t fjaben. 3d) h.^fiÎ5 "i(^t, \vaè barauê Juerben unrb : eô ift nod^ 3U niel
©ijmboliëmuê barin, alô fief) fiir eine fran3ofifdfie ©d^uïe auf bie Sauer eignet. Sod^
tm alfgenieinen Catien mir begriffen, ba§, luenn ber DJhififer SBagner unfterbïic^er
Setounberung n)ert btieb, ber Sramaturg 3U germanifd^ mar, um unferen ©eift ju
nâ^ren. Unb toaê loir !^ier SBagneriani^muâ nennen, ift nid^t SBagnerê SOert, fonbern
bie ©efamtbeit^ ber aftl^etifc^en ©efe^e, Don benen e§ obgeleitet ift. Une fd^eint, bafe er
eê in erf)abeuer, auf i^n felbft begrenster 2Seife angetoanbt bat» unb baB bie
9îadf)abmung befonberë fiir une gefaf)rlid[) iiiare. ^n biefem ©inné uertiert ber
SBagnerianiêmuë in ^vanïreirf) feinen ©influa ; baê ï)eiÈt, Unr betracf^ten ibn aie
gefcfiid^tlid^e ©rfdfieinung unb nid^t me^r aie tatigeé ^rinsip. ^ebod) faffen ©te bie
paar iibeEaunigen ^ Strtiïel nid^t irrig auf, bie bon anfprudf)ëtioUen '■, nad^ guter ober
fd^Ied^ter „9îeu^eit" biirftenben SJlelomanen gefd^rieben Uiorben finb. 931an ïann
Sebuffi) unb S)uîaô lieben, ol^ne ,,îriftan" ober bie tétralogie 3U uerbammen. Unb
SBagner mirb ^ier um fo met)r gefdf)dl^t, aU man nid^t mebr ge3iintngen ift, il)n
nad^3uabmen, ttenn man beê 93erbad^teë, if)u ni(^t 3U ïennen, lebig fein h)itl.
2. S)ie ©efii^le, bie SBagnerê 2fierï mir einflofet ? Slber toenn einem ^imftïer biefe
fîrage Porgelegt it)irb, ift nicf)t bie 3tnttDort fi^on barin entbalten ?3(^ 3iebe ,,Srtftan,,
unb ,,^arfifaf" aïïem iibrigen oor. 2tber menu gemiffe Setailë ber îetralogie mir
bunïel ober anfed^tbar ' f^einen, une foiï mid^ ber ixniuberbare ©(an3 biefer fi)mp^onifi$en
©ctirift nid^t blenben ? Sie ,,9Jleifterfinger", ,,2annbaufer", ,,Co^engrin", atleê erfiidt
mid^ mit 5(^tung unb entbufiaftifd^er Siebe. ©ie fragen mic^ mit g^ug ^ nad^ meinen
©mpfinbungen : benn ioenn meine ^been mit biefem ïoloffaten SBerf nid^t ftet§
ixbereinftimmen, toirb mein ©efiit)! oon feinem ïlcinften Seild^en erregt. 3d^ fii^le bu
9ktur felbft, menn ibre ©efe^e mid^ befremben ; fo fte^t eê aud^ mit ïûagner. gr ift fiir
mid^ bie Guette jeber ,,©timmung" (beutfd)), unb in ben 3luan3ig Qabren, feit id^ fein
SSerï fenne, ift meine trunfene Seibenfd^aft fiir i^n nid^t fd^madt^er gemorben. Sôagner
ift eineê ber frucf)tbarften ©enieê, bie ber DJlenfd^beit erftanbeu finb.
^ariê. Somifle DJlauctair.
2Bagnerâ ©enie bat nid^t atlein bie DJtuftf, fonbern faft bie ganse fransofifd^e ^unft
3ef)n biê fiinfaebn ^afire (etioa Don 1880 bi§ 1890) beberrfd^t. @r ^at, in uerfd^iebenen
©raben, auf ben „©igurb" oon 9tet)er, bie ,,©iuenboIine" Don ©manuel 6f)abrier, ben
1. ne me figure pas. — 2. décroissance. — 3. servilement. — 4. l'ensemble. — 5.
maussades. — 6. prétentieux. — 7. contestables. — 8. avec raison.
108
DEUTSCHER TEIL
[628]
„Chant de la Cloche" bon SSincent b'^nbi) geivnrft. ®ocf) feit 1890 begonn,
fd^ûd^tern jucrft, eine ©egenfieluegung. S)er Dîanie Don géfar ^xand (bcr 1890 in ^ariè
lierftarïi) tourbe bit Sofung fur bie junge frau,3ôfif(|e S^ule, bie fic| auerft um bie
,,Schola cantorum" uub um JBincent b'^nbi) gruppierte. ®er „2;raum" t)on SBru=
neau (1891), „g:eniaaï" Don b'Sub^ (1898), ,,Souife" Don 6f)Qrpentier (1900) Uiaren
noc^ ungelDtffe 93erfu$e, bie nationale ^erfonlidjïeit non fremben ginfliiffen 3U befrcien.
,,^iUeaê unb SDÎélifanbe" Don 6Iaube ©efiuffi) (1902) l)at baè ®atum ber tt)at)rï)aftigen
gman3i»3ûtion bcr fran^ofild^en gjîufiï geprdgt. ®iefe gman3ipûtion ift ï)eute t)Dti-
ftanbig. Hnter ben 0^iil)rern unferer iuugen S(i)ule f)errf(î)en gmei 9lid^tungen : bie
„3^rancfiftifcC}e", bie burd) JBincent b';jnbl) unb bie ,,Schola" uertreten ift, in geiuiffem
ma%i aucE) burcT) S)uïa§ unb Stlkric 3)lagnarb, unb bie ,,®ebufft)ftifd)e", beren
§Quptbertreter mit S)el)uffi) 9îût)el ift. S)er 2D3agiieufc^e ©influB ift nalieju ganj
iierfc^tt)unben. Dber beffer noc^, er ift aufgefogen icorben.
aSagner ift befinitiD in ben Suftanb beê 9îuï)më tierfeljt. gr motint je^t in jener
ibealen Oîegion beè ©eiftcë, in ber ^ad) unb S8eet()oDen uiol)nen, fern Don unferem Ceben
unb unferen ^ampfen. 2lm 9îingen unferer ^eit ïû»n ei-' ïeinen Seil mef)r baben- ®r
fann une fein 3^uf)rcr fcin, nur uoc^ einer jener ©terne, bie iiber une ftra()Ien inmitten
ber 9îa(^t, in ber inir meiterfc^reiten.
^ariè. 9îomain îlotïaub.
SdmUtaflseiJiôrrtmmc.
3um 29. ^ebruar 1908 bat eine 9leiOe
bem ,,23erliner 2ageb(att" fotgcnbe ïletue
Êin neununbâtoanjigfter S^ebruar
3ft une bef($ieben ' in biefem ^a'^r,
gin ©c^alttag luiebcr ift une befcbert',
5)er natï) bier ^ûi^i-"^" fïft luieberïebrt.
Sicêmat mag fein er fo toie er mitl,
3(ï) bin 3ufrteben unb fcfjuieige ftill.
Soc^ fiir bie 3"t feiner ÏÏBieberfe^r
Sent' id) îd)ou jeljt, Waé ,]n Uiiinfcbeu unir'.
Unb bcifee beut fc^on ber SDBiiufcbe brei —
S)rei 9Bunfcf)e fteljn ja im 3!Jlar(ï)eu frei.
®r briuge mir erftenê ©onnenfcf}ein
Uub 3Uieitens aud) nod) ein (5taô oot(3D3cin.
®aë britte aber, ba^â er mir bringt,
©ei bieé, bafj fd)ou eine Serdie fingt,
93ieIIeid)t aud) fd)ou eine 23lume bliibt,
S)ie aufgeUiedt ift burd^ Serd^enïieb.
©0 ï)ab' id^ biefe brei 23}iinfd§e je^t
aSei atlen breieu iiorauêgefet;t —
©ie bntten ja fouft gar feinen ©inn —
®afe id) alébanu nod) am Seben bin.
^obanneê Srojau.
£) ^eil'ger 93ater, ^apft ©regor !
D'Iode fte^t bein ©d)aUfl)ftem in {Jlor,
1. accordé.
ber befaunteften f)umortftifd^en ©d)riftfteûer
©elegenfjettsuerfe 3ur 58erfûgung gefteïït.
2Bonad^ bie SOlenfd^en t)ortoartêtriebcu ;
9iur 9tufelanb ift 3uriidtgeblieben.
(?'j blieb 3uriicE um brei3ebn Sage.
aSIofî um fo Uienig? Snmme O^rage.
©eib ob bcr Oîei^nnng uit^t neruninbert,
S)enn jeber îag ift ein 3afH'ï)iitibert.
2Bie Ciel aud^ Sage 3d^ït baê ^abr,
®er DJlenfd) mufi bulben immerbar,
DQhtfe fieibeu fd^Ieppen biê 3ur Sîabre- :
3c^ tenue nur gemeine ^ai)Xt !
3)er bieô Cameuto jammert, ift
(Siu ungliicfferger Jpumorift.
Unb beiier ' mug ber arme 53îann
3Jlebr 3ftt iiertreiben, aU er ïann.
Quiiuê 93auer.
,,S)er fiarm" — baè ift bie grofee ^vage,
®ie aïtuetlfte ^ein furiuabr!
!ilîid)t anberô aie bie anbern Sage
28irb aud^ ber ïe^te [yebruar :
(îiir uuf're 3îerDen ein ©eiualttag,
i^ùx unfer SrommelfetI '- ein ^naïïtag,
2. bière, cercueil.
4. tympan.
3. biefcê Sal^t.
[629]
DEUTSCHtR TEIL
109
i^ïw unier SBo^Ifeiti etn îBerfaUtûg,
soie jeber 5ltltatî ift etn ©c^atltaiî
3luc^ btefer ©i^atttacj I
Sllejanber aJlofàîoiuéîi.
S)er gute iïRenfd), er fprid^t uiib laâ)t :
,,®en ©cfiaïttag, ben î)at ©ott genuicfjt,
®afe aile nier ^ai)u aûetb uub 5Jtann
Sic^ ctnen 2ag langer freuen tann."
®cr aSôfe fTut^t : „0 ^îtebertrac^t» !
®en ©i^alttag f)at ber 2;eufel gemac^t,
llnb legte iï)n juft in ben O^ebrnar,
Sen O^afd^ingêmonat^ ber Sardar,
®amit man, loenn baê ®e(b Derfiegt,
6ein @ef)alt einen gan3en S^ag fpâter ïrtcgt!'
0. infamie.
6. mois du carnaval.
3(^ bin ni<S)t boê, ic^ Êin nicf)t gut,
©piir' nieber i^reube, nocf) gro^e 28ut,
9Ste bie bon mir gef(ï)ilberten S^ei*
iïllir ift ber ©d)alttag ganj einerlei :
3d) ifeiè ja bocf) jn ïeiner ^yrift,
2Baê fiir ein Sag unb Satiim ift !
^art ©ttlinger.
giJlabame ift brei^ig ^ai]Xi ait V
Sûgt nun baê SSuc^ ? IHigt bie ©eftaït?
9iur brcifeig 3af)re ? — So ftet)t'ê jn Ie=
[fen. —
Sinb 3et)n baoon ©(^aïtja^re gelvefen?
Dloba 9îoba.
Oslerbrauch.
II
In vielen Gegenden, z. B. in Ungarn iind Màhren ', siiid die Ostereier,
die schôn bernait werden, ein Liebeszeichen. Der Bursch ntialt auf das
lûr sein « Dirndl » - Itestimmte allerhand Liebessymbole, zwei ver-
schlungene Hânde oder ein brennendes Herz, und das Dirndl revanchiert
sich durch eins, auf deni zwischen Vergii-imeinnicht der Spruch steht :
« Auf ewig Dein ! »
Dort bliiht noch eine echte Yolkskunst ini Ostereier-Malen, der sogar
die Kinder huldigen \ Da vielfach das Hiihnerei nicht Platz genugfùr Bild
oder Spruch bietet, sind auch Enten- oder Giinseeier sehr gesucht dazu.
In Ungarn. wo die Gesangskunst so daheim ist, herrscht noch vielfach
die Sitte, sich gemeinschaftiich zum Bemalen der Ostereier zusammen zu
finden und dabei nralte schune Yolkslieder zu singen, Volkslieder, die
von Lieb' und Treue erzàhlen und bei deren Klangen vielleicht mit
besonderer Andacht^ das brennende Herz oder die schnâbelnden Tauben
geinalt werden.
Auch in Galizien lindet sich die Kunst des Eierbemalens, wàhrend in
Polen^ die Eier mehr mit bunten Stoffen bezogen werden, die die kunst-
fertige Hand der Polin mit Flitter « beniiht.
Auch in Ruftiand, wo das Osterfest das schônste und liebste Fest des
Jahres ist, gilt das Yerschenken von Ostereiern fur ein Zeichen der
Aufmerksamkeit und des Wohhvollens. Die Ûbergabe solchen Eis ist stets
mit einem Kul'^ verbunden, dem Osterkuft, dem sich nieniand entziehen
darf. Der Osterkufi dort ist ein Friedenskulî : der Arme kïilU den Reichen,
der Hochgestellte den Geringen ; den Osterkufe zu weigern, giltals Sùnde.
Mit der Sitte der Ostereier vvaren und sind in vielen Gegenden noch
1. Moravie,
paillettes.
2. Miidchen. — 3. sich widmen. — 4. dévotion. — 5. Pologne. — 6.
110 DEDTSGHER TEIL [630]
heute Eierspiele verbundeti, die meist am Usterniontag stattfmden. Man
kennt iiach der Mundart der verschiedenen Lânder Eierspicken, Eier-
tippen, Eierklauben, Eierdûpfen, Eierlaufen, Eierlesen, iisw.
Aus diesen Eierspielen entwickelte sich der «Ûsterball», indem man
an Stella der zerbrechlichen Eier runde Balle aus Leder, spiiter wohl
auclî Gummiballe treten liefi. Anscheinend ist der Osterball besonders in
der Mark Brandeiiburg verbreitet. Ehe Kôpenick eine grofie Stadt war,
Avie sie sich heute darstellt, war alljàhrlich auf dem dortigen « Kietz »
grofies Osterballschlagen. Schon vor Sonnenaufgang kam die Jugend dazu
herbei, weder Regen noch selbstunwillkommenes Schneetreiben hielt sie
zuriick.
In der Gegend von Landsberg a. d. Warthe begann dièses Ballschlagen
am dritten Ostertag mit einem festlichen Umzug ; in der Gegend von
Salzwedel, Tangermùnde und Arendsoe kennt man den « Brautball w.Das
gesamle junge Yolk zieht auf den Hof der jungen Ehepaare, die sich seit
dem letzten Osterfeste verheiratet haben, und bittet, alte Yolksverse
singend, um den « Brautball » :
« Hier sind uii- Jungfern aile,
Wir singn um Brautballe ;
Will uns de Fru " den Hall nicht gewen %
So willen ' wir ihr den Mann ob nehmen.
N. N. mit sine junge Fru,
Schmit' uns den Brautljall rut '". »
Die junge Frau gibt den vorsorglich aufbewahrten Bail, der junge
Manu Geld, worauf ein Dankvers ertônt :
(< Se hebbe uns eene Elue gewen ",
De lewe'- Gott laft sie in Frieden Jewen ",
Dat" Gliick wiihr' Jahr ut und ut^^
Dat Inglûck fahr' zum Schornsteiii rut. »
Mit diesem gewifi menschenfreundlichen Wunsch entfernt sich die
Jugend, geht zu einem anderen jungen Paar, spiiter ins Wirtshaus oder
ins Freie, wo die Balle so lange geschlagen werden, bis sie entzwei sind
und dann getanzt wird.
Um dièses Tanzes willen wird meist erst der zweite Ostertag fiir dièses
Fest beslimmt. ^Vïlrde jemand die tauzeude Jugend uach dem Ursprung
dièses Brautballspiels Iragen, keiner wiirde eine Antwort wissen.
« Es war schon immer sol »
Und gewife. Gerade die Branche sind wertvoU, die, durch Generationen
forterbend, durch dièse Tradition geweiht sind, und dabei ist es ganz
gleichgiiltig, ob der erste Ursprung dieser, im Laufe der Zeiten doch sich
ândernden Spiele und Bràuche aus heidnischer oder aus christlicher Zeit
stammt.
[Schh'^.)
[H aus, Hof und Garlen, Mdrz 1907.)
7. die Frau. — 8. geben. — 9. wollen. — 10. wirf uns... heraus. — U. Sie haben
uns eine Ehre gegeben. — 12. Der liebe. — 13. leben. — 14. Das. — 15. Jahr aus Jahr ein.
[631] DEUTSCHER TEIL lU
j^c(I>cnto2> *.
VI
3}or bcm §auM)en beS lîafper ©arolDicj fetiteu bie ^urfd^en it)re Saft ^ur
Êrbe. „D 3,lUcf)a(, fdjlaf bic^ t)eute auS," riefen einige. — ^IVtorgeu feiern mir
in ber «Sdjenfe beine .speimfetjr." — „D ja, unb bu uuifît unâ erjd^len." —
„1)a§ ganje ©orf tt)irb îommeii," erjc^oU eS im Surcïjeinanber.
S)er Jîriippet f)umpe(te ûlna* bie ©d)lr)elle in bûê §anê feineâ @d)iuagerS.
S)ran^en erflnngen noi^ Oîufe : „^QOii) ber Spelb !" — „2)er 3Jtic^aI tebe !" —
„@r ïelie!" — „5me ^eilitjen mogen if)n fc^ii^en!" S)ann \mxh tè tDieber ftill,
„93ift bu l)ungrig, Wiâ)ai ?" fragte ^atia. '
®r fc^i'ittelte baS i^aupt. „92ein, tiebe ©c^trefter, itia^rfiaftig nicï)t.D'lur miibe
6in id), o, fo fd)redlic^ miibe."
„(SoEte er nid)t fc§(afeu gef)en ?" fragte ber ^afper beid}_eiben ^
2)ie ^atja nidte nur ; fie tmr plb^tid) ungen3of)nIid) tDorttarg- geinorben.
®ann fiit)rte fie ben Sruber in bie fleine ,^ammer, bie er friiïjer ben)ot)nt ^atte.
„0, ^ier fd^Iaf bic^ au§/' fogte fie unb ging fc^uell, aU bangte i^r, mit if)in
allein ^u fein. @S ïam i^r gar ni(^t in ben ©inn, ha% fie i^m beim ®ntf(eiben
ettt)a be{)ilflid) fein fbnnte.
2)er §eimgeîe(:)rte bad)te aber gar nid)t baran, fid) ju entfteiben. @o luie er
ftanb, loarf er fid), ol)ne ben -'goljfu^ ab5unet)men, aufê Cager, Dergrub baâ
5lntU^ feft in bie t)o()en geberpolfter, bie jur ^yeier biefeâ S^ageSim SSette i)oà)
aufgetiirmt lagen, unb erflirfte in if)nen baê ©djludijen, ha^ feinen 8eib buri:^=
unicité. „5Jiania/' ad)5te er, ,,'JJÎania !"
éo oerftrid) eine lange, fel)r lange 3eit. S)ann ridjtete fic^ ber 9Jîid)at auf,
lueit er in ber anftofeenben ©tube bie feifenbe ©timme^ feiner ©c^luefter
t)ernat)m.
„D, bu bift ein 3)ummfopf, ^afper," t)brte er. „93ei ©otteê Siebe, ^ôrft hu,
bu bift ber grofjte ©nmmfopf, ben id) tenue. @ine ®ï)re, fagft bu? D, îiiff bie
§anbe fiir bie Êt)re. Unb foU er unô uieUeic^t auf ben gelbern arbeiten ï)elfen,
frage id) bid), bu ©fel? ,^ann er baâ uieUei(^t, ber ^riippet ? Unb bie 5Jîania,
nieinft bu? 0, haï ift ein fc^bneô îL'uber S fo uiat)r ic^ eine gute 6f)riftin bin.
Unb ber alte Sefc^to, o, baS ift ein î'ump. ©ie t)at mir gerabe gefagt, ba}^ fie
fo ein ©c^eufal ^ nii^t gefd)en!t f)aben luiU, baoor fott fie bie ©otteêmutter
beliiaï)ren. Unb er ï)at gefagt, ba^ er fein uunii^e'j ïllaul ftopfen loirb. .&brft
bu, hn 3)ummfopf? Unb nun nutffen loir ben 9U(^tôtuer, ber noà) ^unbert
3at)re teben fann, fiittern. 2Cofiir, frage id) bi(^. 9latiirlid) n)erbe id^ il)n nid)t
oerf)ungern laffen, weil er mein ^Bruber ift unb id) eine gute (s[)riftin bin unb
©ott liebe. 5tber ba^ baê eine (Sf)re ift, toie bu @fel fagft, toeit er ein §etb ift,
haè ift ein — o, ein 33(bbfinn^ bb^-ft bu. DJlarfc^ inS 33ett!"
©teif unb ftarr aufgerid)tet ftanb ber 9}ltc^at unb ^brte ju. 93(eid) loar er,
ganj bleii^ ; aber mit feiner ^Jlieue judte er, mit feinem ©ïiebe regte er fid).
©0 ftanb er unb fd)ien auf etloaê ju )oarten. (Sine ootte ©tunbe oerrann, unb er
riiï)rte fidjuic^t, alâtocire er ju ©tein erftarrt. S)ann ad)5te er plb^tic^. ©anj,
ganj leife.
* ©iel^e bie tjier anbern îeiïe.
1. discrèlement. — 2. laconique. — 3. criarde. — 4. coquine. — 5. monstre. — 6.
sottise.
112 UEDTSCHER TEIL [632|
(Sine Zûu fut)rte ûug feiner i^ammer inè Jreie. I^n 5Jii(i)aI t)umpelte burc^
biefe 2^ur ï)inau§,
5lin nac^ften 9Jiorgen fnnb man ben §elben, beffen Sruft ba§ ïapferfeit§=
ïueuj jierte, im Xoiitum^eï.
(©(i^Iufe.)
f5^rtebri(^ 2Bei*ner Dan ©eftéren.
Studentenhumor.
In der bayerischen Universitàtsstadt Erlangen blûht noch die Blume
des Studentenhiimors. Ein Mitglied der Burschenschaft' «Germania» war
vom hohen Sénat- mil 2i Stunden Karzer^ bedacht worden. Nach altem
Studentenbranch gab ihni seine Korporalion das feierliche Geleit. An der
Spitze des Zuges schritt als « Auge des Gesetzes » ein Polizeidiener mit
gezogenem Siibel, hinler ihm ein Mann in Gehrock^ und Zylinder mit
einer groften Tafei, auf der die ominôsen"^ Worte : « 24 Stunden Karzer »
weithin sichtbar prangten, dann kamen zweiTrommler in Landsknechts-
trachl% die einen Tranermarscii' wirbelten. Der Sénat war durch zwei
Pedelle^ vertreten, die statt der Szepter KocblôH'el trngen. Wùrdevoll kam
dann ein Kapuziner dahergeschrilten, der den « Vernrteilten » auf seinetn
« letzten Gang » begleitete. Hinter ihm der Verurteilte seibst im Biifter-
gewand^ Gesenkten Hauptes schritt er dahin. Schwere Kelten hielten ihn
gefesselt, die zwei Henkersknechte'" in den Hànden hielten. Ihnen folgte
der Scharfrichter'^ in rotem Gevvande und mit grol'^em, blanken
Richtschwert'-. Auch zwei Bichter fehlten nicht, von denen der eine ein
groftes corpus juris, der andere die Wage der Gerechtigkeit trug. Hinter
diesen ein kleiner Wagen, auf dem ein Wirt edlen Gerstensaft'^ verzapfte.
Den Zug beschlossen die ùbrigen Burschen und Fiichse'\ etwa dreibigan
der Zabi, Die Fiiehse trugen Utensilien, die der Biiber im Karzer
benôtigte, Schiafrock, Hausschuhe, Pfeife, usw., sogar Biicher und
Kollegienhefte''. So l^ewegte sich der Zug langsam durch die Straben der
Stadt bis zum Marktplatz, wo vor dem Denkmal des Kurfiirsten
Aufstellung genommen wurde. Die Bichter brachen dort den Stab liber
dem Verurteilten, und der Kapuziner hieit eine Ansprache, an deren
Schlufi er auf das Wohl desKarzerkandidaten trank unddieakademische
Freiheit hochleben lieb. Nach dieser Zeremonie ging es weiter zum
Karzer.
1. a:>sociation d'étndiantx. — 2. conseil de rUniversitiK — 3. cachot u7iiversUaire.
— 4. redingote. — 5. fatales. — 6. lansquenets. — 1. marche funèbre. — 8. appari-
teurs. — 9. costume de pénitent. —10. valets de bourreau. — 11. bourreau. —
12. glaive. — 1:î. bière. — 14. étudiants de première année. — 15. caliiers de cours.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 15. 5 Mai 1908. 8« Année.
DEUTSCHER TEIL
Sùtfuttft i>C!& ï»cutfd)ctt ^rtifcr^rtrtrcê in ^orfu.
^orfu, 10. 3tprtl.
@tn untotrfc^er ' ipimmel ïag ûber ^orfu, nad^bem nad^tâ ,5U0or fcEitoere ©eluitter
niebergegangen loaren. Sie Seïorationen trodiieten <xbtx fd^on œieber itn ïebf)aften
©ilbtoinb. 2)te ©tabt xoax frû^ auf ben 2îeinen. S)ie ïe^ten 5-af)nen niurben angenageït,
an ben ©irlanben, bie fi(§ c\\xtx iiber bie 93ia Sriitmpï)altê 3ogen, tourben 33funtenfi3rbe
befeftigt. 3li'ii(^£ii t)fn Sciumen ber ©pianata iiiaven breitaufenb Somptonê jur abtnh-
ïid^en ^ûuminatton aufgerei^t.
Um neun Ul^r luirb fcefannt, bofe bie tûrîifd^en @iï)iffe nom aI6anifcf)en §afen Santi=
Quaranta aufgebrocEien finb, um \\^ ben ^aiferfcEiiffen 3U na^ern. ©egen 5e^n U^r
beginnt man fd^on na($ bem grofeen SlJlaft auf ber ofierften 5pïattform ber O^ortejsa
3}ecd^iû :^in3ufpa^en, bon bem aiïe anïommcnben Scfiiffe 3uerft gefid^tet toerben.
llm je'^n llï^r ûormittag fteigt an btefem 5Dhift bie fc^toar3=iueife=vote a-Iûgge empov.
■3lÏÏe§ eilt Vft^O junt ©tvanbe. Dîod^ bauert eô eine îialèe ©tunbe, e^e bie ,,§o^en=
3ottern", unb bie begteitenben 8d^iffe in groB^w SJogen um bie ïlippenreid)en 3}ovge=
6trge einlaufen. S)ann tauc^en fie auf, fid^er unb ïraftig baê ettoaê unru^ige 9)ieer
burdifc^neibenb. ©d^matf) nur entfteigt ben Sd^Ioten- no(| 9îau(^, aBer grofee SBoIïen
^nlnerbunft toirbein ûkr D)îeer unb ©tabt, unb non ber tïeftnng unb aEen im |)afen
Dereinten ^riegêfd^iffen bïi^t ber 3^euerfd}ein ber ©alut ge6enbcn ©efd^ûiie.
®ie griecf)ifc^e JÎDuigêfamilie t)atte rec^tjeitig ha^ ©tabtfc^ïofe uerlaffen unb begab
fic^, ttii^renb ein Dîegenfc^auer ben anberen ab{oft^ an 33orb ber ,,§o!^en,50ÏÏern", mit
i^r ber beutfd^e ©efanbte ©raf 5lrco unb Cberïjofmarfd^atl ®raf Êutenburg fotoie ber
beutfc^e ^onful ©pengelin. ^aifer aBilïjetm unb .^onig ©eorg begrii^ten fi(§ aufâ
l^erjïii^fte.
S)er Jîonig trug beutf(|e 3tbmtrûï§uniform, ber ^ronprinj ^onftantin bie eineê
î^reufeifc^en ©eneraB. ®er ^aifer eriuartete feine ©iifte am ^Jaûreep, nHiî)renb bie
SJlannfd^aften aïïer ^riegëf d^iffe in Carabe ftanben unb bie .tapette ber ,,§otIen3otIern"
bie griec^if(î)e §l)mne fpielte, ©in ©éjeuner auf bem ^atferf(^iff bereintgte bann haè
feeutfc^e -Saiferpaar unb bie îyamilie beê .^peûenenïonigê.
'ijla^ bem 3^rii^ftiicf an SBorb murbe eê auf ®edE* unb meïir no(ï) am Ufer leknbig. S'j
na^te ber StugenblicE, an bem baê ^aiferpaar unb bie grie(^if($en |)errfd^aften an Sanb
gel^en unb bie g^aljrt burc^ bie ©tabt nac^ bem Stt^itleton antreten mollten. 3ladf) einer
lângeren SSeite gefpannten §arrenê faf) man fie bie flinïen SSoote befteigen, hit ftc^
gleid^ barauf in Seiuegung fe^ten. 9laf(^ uaberten fie fid^ um 2 ll^r ber Sanbung§=
ftelle. Siefe toar etma breiï)unbert 50teter mel)r nac^ ©iiben auêgeiutl^It aï§ ber all=
gemeine Saubungëpta^.
®iefe Sanbungôftede fiir ben ^aifer, bie fonft au($ fiir $8efud^e beâ griec^ifd^eu
1. unfreundlicher, — 2. cheminées. — 3. remplace. — 4. pont.
[851 ALLBM. 15
114
DEUTSCHER TEIL
[674]
f)Oîeê benufet toirb, pratigte tou ganj ^otfu im ^-eftlcïimucî t)on fjloggenmaften,
grtec^if(ï)en unb beut=
fc^en 5a^nenunba5Iu=
inengeioinben.
®er ^ôc^fte 9îei3 be§
Crteê ettoai^ft auâ
ber natiïrlicfjen Umge=
6ung.9îû(ï)Dftenfliegt
ber 9SIi(ï ûber ba§^
retcÇ)beïeÊte 9Jleer mit
feineu t)ielbeuninpel=
ten©(ï|ittenunb@(^if=
fcf^en hïè 511 ben ^iïf=
tenget)irgen2llbanien§
unb tceiter f)inteit 311
cixiigen iâ(ï}nee{)bï)en,
im ©iiben fte^t une
ein feierïi(| Iro^igev
giieie, won if)rem
2eu(^ttnrm beïrbnt,
bie O^ortesja SSecd^io,
ûuf fteilem x^-eiè ex-
ïic^tet, ^ier unb ha
mit ©ïiin iiberuntcÊiert
unbmitDîiefenïaïteen^
bie fid) in faft at)fo=
Inter 23eburfnièIofig=
ïett an haê ©eftein
antlammern. ^n ben
bunîlen Son biefcè
einften 95iïbc§ Iiriu:^
gen ein tt)eiB(eucf)ten=
beG ^ir(f)ïein, unb
mobeine $8eamtenï)au=
fer luette unb freunb=
Ii(ï)e ^arbenflecïen.
5)irf)t iiber ber San-
bnngôftede nuf bem
©enuiucr frlifierer
g^eftungêUierîe aufge-
fcout, fteî)t ber ^ala^o
gieale, breit unb ge=
uncfitig mit cieten
gviinen (Çenfterlabcn,
mit meitldufigen ^ro=
;n)ïaen, bie einen offenen 2orbogen unirat)men.
S)iefeê SBiïb f)atten bie ïaiferlirfie ^amitié, if)re grie^ifc^en a^ermanbten unb
©ûftfreunbe unb bie Segleitung beim Stuêfteigen nor fid^. Saju ïam ber ©rufe ber
©ey(ii;|e, bas Sauten ber ©locfeu unb bie ftlirmifc^en 3urufe ber aSeuolferung, bie an
biefer ©teÏÏe JDenigftenê burd) if)re Spi^en Dertreten irar. aSo fid) ûber bem Sanbungë=
pïa^ 5ur ©eite ber ^afjrftrafee, bie fief) t)om llfer awè in einer ïnappen ^uroe bergan
[675] DECTSGHER TEIL 115
totnbet, ein freier 5pia^ mit umfûffenber aîunbficf}! finbet, finb biefe 3(u§erliiâf)ïten,
SOÎitgïieber ber $8e!}Drben, bit .Jîonfuïn iiub it)re 2lnge:^origen unb feeborgugte grembe
t)Iaciert, mit tt)nen bie ajertreter ber greffe, bie atlein in einev ,^o))f5al)t bon fec^aig
^^erfoneu crfdf^ienen finb.
Sïac^bem bie g^iirftlic^feiten unter ben gefi^ilberten SBegrii^ungêïunbgebungen an
Sanb geftiegen toaxm, na()m ber ^aifer bie 2Siaïommen§anfpra(ï)e be§ 23iirgermeifterâ
^otfaè entgegen, ber in griec^ifc^er ©proche eine Dîebe Hotl poetifc^er, fiiblicf) ilberfd^au^
ntenber ÏSenbung ï)ielt. 3ï)re .«ôauptfa^e ïauteten : ,,Unfer 3}oIï ift gfl'idEtic^ ii6er bie
SeSaf)!, burd^ bie (fuer DDlajeftdt, ber §iiter bes aOeîtfriebenê, unfer S^aterlanb geeï)rt
^aben. ©§ beuget fic^ in ®{)rfurc^t nnb fc^miicft bie 2ôege mit 23Iumen. (S§ umiuinbct
©urer 93îaje[tdten olgeîalbte ©tirn mit bem fîranj ber Silbertlcitter nnferer OïiDen=
l)aine. Unfere 9Sorfal)ren, bie einft ben groberer Srojaê aufgenommen ïjaben, finb
èafiir burd^ bie ®id^tïunft unfterbïicf) gemorben, unb je^t toirb bie ©efd^ic^te jnïilnftiger
5(ûf)rl^uitberte ben îîomen nnferer glitcïliâien ©tabt uereinen mit jenem beê mac^tDoûen
O^ôrbererê be§ g^ortfcf)vitteê, beê rul)mreid)en Dîac^fommenô ru^mreicf)er Sîorfal^ren."
®er begeifterte Dîebner fc^Iofe mit einem .^oiï) auf bie faiferticfjen ©afte, ba^ fic^
braufenb fortpflan^te,
S)er ^ûifer banïte in gried^ifc^er ©proche unb mit l^erjïidien SBorten. ©arauf
ïiefic^tigte er bie @t)renîompagnie, bie Bon 3'Jgïingen ber l^iefigen DleferDeoffisierôaïabemie
geftctit toar. Sanacf) luurbcn bie Stuto^ beftiegen unb in nid)t aûju rafc[)er 3^aï)rt ging
eê bergan ^ur §auptftraBe, ber ,,@pianata". 5ÏRannf(ï)aften nom je^nten 3nfonterie=
régiment bilbeten ©palier, ©a^inter brdngten fitï) bicf}te 3>olfêmaffen. SaS iîoiferpaar
banïte fiir bie 3itïufe, mie auc^ flir bie freubige SBegriifenng an§ aûen 3^enftern ber
palaftartigen |)aufer. ^m fdfinerieren Sempo ging eë bann an ber Suc^t Don ^aIid^io=
pulo entlang nacf) ©afturi, ino bie O^rauen in prad^tiger 2anbeêtrad)t aufgefteût maren
unb ber ©emeinbeoorftanb bm iîaifer in ïurjen SBorten begriifete. SSenige 3}linuten
Ipater ging auf bem Sliïiitleion, an beffen Sor ebenfaltë DJtilitar aufgeftellt Uun-, bie
©tanbarte in bie §5f)e.-
Von den Weltsprachen.
Einc historische RetracliUing der Entwickelung unserer bedeutendsten
Kultursprachen gibt Dr. Franz Winterstein in seinem soeben erschienenen
Bûche Die Verhehrsspracheii der Erde (Frankfiirt a. M., Moritz Dieslerweg)
mit einem gleichzeitigen Uberblick iiber die Aiisbreitung der Weltidiome in
der Gegenwart. Es haben in dieser Hinsicht im Laufe der Zeit hôchst bemer-
kenswerte Verschiebungen ' stattgefunden. Die Zabi der Sprachen wirdnach
Winterstein im Grunde immer geringer, abgesehen von den Neubildungen-
der Mischsprachen^ wie Neger-Englisch. Trolzdem existiertnoch diestattliche^
Anzahl von 335 selbstandigen ■■ Spracben mit mebr aïs tansend Diak^kten auf
dem Erdenrund.
Nach der Vorherrschaft des Franzôsiscben im achtzebnten und zu Anfang
des neunzehnten Jahrhunderts und dem darauffolgenden Siegeslauf der
engliscben Spracbe ist seit den neunziger Jabren des vorigen Jabrhunderts
beiden Spracben ein gefabrlicber Nebenbuhler « im Deutscben erwacbsen, und
zwar in allen Teilen der Erde, auf allen Gebieten menscblicher Tatigkeit. Das
Einflufigebiet des Hochdeutscben in der ganzen Welt erstreckt sicb auf rund
hundert Miliionen Menschen, des Niederdeutscben auf dreifiig Miilionen.
1. déplacements (d'influence) . — 2. nouvelles formations. — 3. langues mixtes.
A. .imposant. — 3. indépendantes. — 6. rival.
H6
DEUTSCHER TEIL
[6761
Englisch ist iinter etwa zweihundert Millionen verbreitet. Das eigentliche
englische Sprachgebiet umfafît aber nur etwa 125 Millionen, darunler 50
Millionen richtige Briten und 20 Millionen deutscher Abkunft, die uns durch
Auswanderung verloren gegangen sind.
Unter den Seeleuten der germanischen Welt hat sich eine Mischsprache
gebildet ans Englisch, Skandinavisch und Plattdeutsch, die dem Englischen
am nachsten steht. Sie wird auch iin Binnenlande immer mehr bekannt. Es
ware daher zu wûnschen, dafi bald Genauercs iiber sie verôffentlicht werde,
zumal sie in gewisser Beziehung vieileicht ein Verstandigungsmittel zwischen
den verschiedenen Germanenstammen darstellen wird. In Nordamerika
erhalt sich das eigentliche Plattdeutsch unter den Eingewanderten langer als
Hochdeutsch ; in manchen Orten wird es dort mehr gesprochen als dièses.
Sonst steht Amerika in Sprache und Verkehr hauptstichlich unter dem
wachsenden Einfïufi des Englandertums, vor allem die Hauptmasse des
Nordens. In ihr besitzt die englische Sprache ihr gewaltigstes Verbreitungs-
gebiet.
In der ^Yeltausbreitung l'olgt dem Englischen in grofsem Abstand'' das
Franzosische, namlich mit 47 Millionen und cinem Einflufsgcbiet von etwa
50 Millionen. Selbst als Welt-Modesprache tritt es immer mehr zurïick
zugunsten des Englischen und Deutschen. Spanisch wird von 45 Millionen
gesprochen und von weiteren 5 Millionen verslanden. Portugiesisch gilt bei
22 Millionen Menschen als Verkehrssprache, Italienisch hat sich iiber etwa
38 Millionen ausgebreitet, Griechisch ïiber 4. Grofîrussisch beherrscht im
ganzen 100 Millionen, wird aber nach der Ansicht Wintersteins ebensowenig
eine weltumspannende Sprache werden wie Chinesisch trotz seiner 400 und
Japanisch mit seinen 46 Millionen. Die 100 Millionen Inder, die Hindostanisch
sprechen, bleiben nur auf das diesen zutnigliche Klima beschrankt. Arabisch
wird angesichts seiner grofien riiumlichen Ausdehnung von 55 Millionen
geluaucht, Malaisch von 25 Millionen. Tiirkisch wird immer noch von 23
Millionen gesprochen.
Von den slawischen Sprachen, so schreibtder Verfasser des interessanten
Werkchens weiter, haben wir die russische am wenigsten zu fiirchten ; sie
wird hôchstens auf den Bereich ihres eigentlich politischen Einflufigebiets
beschrankt bleiben. Die fast ebenso scliwer zu erlernende deutsche Sprache
breitet sich auch ohne aufiere Machtmittel aus durch die wachsende kulturelle
Bedeutung und immer wcitere rilumliche Verbreitung ihrer Triiger. Die
westslawischen Sprachen dagegen sind der deutschen gerade deshalb
gefahrlich, weil sie von Menschen gesprochen werden, die an Gesittung
unter, an Volksvermehrung aber iiber uns stehen. — Das Englische hat den
Gipfel seiner Grofie ûberschritten. Dièse Sprache ist ja technisch im Vorteil
gegenïiber der unserigen und daher leichter zu erlernen. Trotzdem hat
Professor Miinsterberg von der Harvard-Uni versitât nachgewiesen, dafi sie
zur Weltsprache weniger geeignet soi als das Deutsche, selbst nach V^erein-
fachung^ ihrer sehr verwickelten Rechtschreibung.
1. distance. — 8. simplification.
2)lc frtttftctt 2;<i0c.
1.
^à) bin fo f)otb ben fauften S^agen,
2Bann in ber erften O^niljïingêjeit
S)ei* .<ôtmme(, fiïaiilirf) auf(]efd)ïagen,
3ur ®rbe ©ïanj iinb 23}arme firent^
5)ie 5liUer nocf) Dom (Sifc grauen,
5)er ipiigel fdion fid) founii] Ijcbt,
S)ie 9Jlabil)en fid) tn§ Q^reie traiten,
Xer <^inber <Spid fid) neu bcïebt.
[677]
DELTSCHER TEIL
^il
S)ann ftel^' td) auf bem JBerge broben
Unb jef)' e§ alIeS, ftitt erfreut,
®ie23ru[tt)onïeifem®i-anggef)oben,
2)er nod) jum 2Buufd)e nid)t gebeit)t.
3fC^ bin ein <^inb unb mit bem Spiete
2)er ï)eiteren Statut Dergnûgt,
^n if)re rubigen ©efûf)(e
^ft gauj bie ©eele eingetDiegt.
^d) bin fo ()olb hen fan|ten S^agen,
2Kann iï)rer milb befonnten 3^(ur
®eritt)rte ' ©reife 3(b ]d)teb fagen ;
S)aun ift bie Çeier ber Dîatur.
1. émus.
©ie prangt nid)t mef)r mit 33Iiit' unb
[ptle,
5111' ibve regen ^rcifte rut)n,
©ie fammeit fii^ in fiiBe ©tille,
5n i^re Sliefen fd)aut fie nun.
S)te ©eele, jiingft fo ^oc^ getragen,
®ie fenfet i^ren ftofjen O^Ing,
©ie iernt ein friebîidieâ Sntfagen -,
©rinnerung ift i^r genug.
S)aiftminî)ot)ïimfanftenS(^toeigen,
S)û§ bie llcatur ber ©eete gob ;
®ô ift mil- fo, at'j biirft' id) fteigen
§inunter in mein ftilleê ©rab.
Submig Ul)(anb.
2. renoncement.
Das Kissen der Grâfin Confalonieri*.
Die Gratin Teresa Casati Confalonieri '. war nach Wien gekommen, iim
die Gnade ihres Gatten zu erlangen. An dem Tage, wo man den verhang-
nisvollen Beschlutî gefafit batte, war um Mitternacht ein Bote mit dem
Todesurteil abgereist. Die gutherzige Kaiserin sandte einen Kammerherrn
zu der Gratin, damit er dersell»en diirch wùrdevolles Schweigen den
Schmerz ausdriicke, den die engelsgleiche Fûrstin dariiber empfand, dafi
ihr die Rettung nicht gelungen war. Trotz der vorgerùckten Stunde fiihr
Teresa Confalonieri im Wagen eilends nach dem Schlol^ ; die Kaiserin,
die sich schon in ihre Zimmer zurûckgezogen batte, konnte es nicbt
abscblagen, sie zu empfangen. Die Unglûcklicbe weinte so sebr und ibre
Verzweitking war so unwidersteblicb, dal-i die Kaiserin ganz aufgelôst zu
ibrem Gemabl lief : nacb einiger Zeit 'fiir die Angst derTeresa mocbte es
ein Jabrbundert sein !) kam sie mit der Gnade zurùck.
Da galt es, scbnell, scbleunigst, den Boten einzubolen, zu ûberholen,
trug er doch den Todessprucb ! Teresa warf sicb in eine Kutscbe, hielt
nirgends an, bezablte den Postillonen vier bis secbsfacben Lobn, nahm
nicbts zu sicb als einige Getrânke, kam zur rechten Zeit in Mailand an
und Friedricb stieg nicbt auf das Scbafott.
Wâbrend der Reise batte sie ibr Haupt auf einem kleinen Kissen
ausgerubt, das sie mit ibren Trànen benetzt batte, Trànen der Angst, sie
kàme nicbt zur rechten Zeit an, Trànen der Hoffnung, Trânender Gatten-
liebe.
Dieser vertraute Zeuge des wichtigsten und verbângnisvoUsten
Augenblicks im Leben der beiden Gatten wurde den Richtern Friedrichs,
die ibn zum Tode verurteilt batten, in die Hànde gelegt; dièse gaben ibn
ebrerbietig dem geretteten Gemabl. Er nabm ibn mit sicb auf den Spiel-
berû. Ail seiner Kleider beraubt, gefesselt, auf einem Lager von Strob,
* Siehe die vier andern Telle.
1. Der Graf Friedrich Confalonieri wurde von Osterreieh wegen Karbonarismus verurteilt.
118 DEUTSCHER TEIL [678]
aile Bequemlichkeiten des Lebens entbehrend, trennte er sich nie von
dem kleinen Kissen.
Piero Maroncelli ^.
2. Mitgefangener des Dichters Silvio Pellico uad des Grafen Confalonieri.
^Iumcnfd)taf.
®ie gan^e ^îtanjenluelt ftef)t unter bem ^îegiment ' ber ©onne, ntd)t nui*
infofern'^ biefeïbe ben âreiSïauf ber ^a^reSjeiten ï)ert)etfuf)rt; aiicï) ber 2Bed)feï
t)on %aa, unb 9îad)t greift tuunbertiar tief in baS Seben ber ©eîD&c^je ein^
SBenn bie erfteii ©trût)Ien ber DDlorgenfonne ûber ben ®rbtrei§ auôftromen,
bann erlt)ad)en aud) bie 58ïiimen t)om nad)tltd)en (£d)Iuntmer, ©te rid)ten bie
5um Soben geneigteu ^opfc^en empor ; Ijierauf nel)men fie forglid) iï)re
©eîDdnber au§ bem griinen .Ënofpeiifd)rein, in tDeïc^em fie biefelben luciljrenb
ber ?lad)t nerborgcn tjatteu, t)reiteii fie aiic^einanber unb laffen iïire gldn,^enben
^arben in ber ©onne fpielen^
®a5 Sid)t ift e§, meM)eo bie ^>f(Qn^,en eruicrft ; aber, mie bao ja aud) bei ben
93îenfd)eu ber g^all ift, bie einen finb Sangfd)lafev, bie anbern ftet)en ,^citig ûuf ;
unb bieô gefd)ieî)t mit fold)er ^tinttlid)teit, baB ber grof^e Dîûturforfc^er Cinné
e§ nerfnd)te, cine Slumenu{)r jufûmmen 5U ftellen. ©iefelbe geljt jeboc^ nur bei
ï)ellem, tïarcm ÏBctter rid)tig ; bei bebedtem Rimmel ober bei 9hgemiietter
bagegen bffnen fid) bie 23Utten oft gar nid^t. 3tuifd)en 3 unb A llt)r be§
9JUu-gen§ cntfnïtet ber ÎOicfenbodêbart'^ bie gclben 9?liitenfôpfd)en ; ^Uiifc^en A
unb 5 U^r ertt)ad)t bie blaue Sid)orie, 5tî)ifd)en :> unb G Uf)r ber gemeine
8bn)en3at)n '^ folnie aud) ber 9}îo()n', jtrifdien (J unb 7 bie ©cinfebifteP unb bie
©atatftanbe, 5Unfd)en 7 unb 8 bie 3:eid)rofeMinbber ®aud)beil'", eine ©tunbe
fpdter bie 9îingelblnmc, unb fo get)t eS fort non ©tunbe ,yi ©tunbe. i'ieïe 23Iumen
I)aben einen iiblen 9hif, uieil fie fpdt aufftetien : bie 9.1îittagèblnme, tiielri)e mit
fïeifc^igem 2anh bie ^yelfcn uon (iapri betleibet, bffnet it)re a3liiten erft gcgen
11 lU)r, unb eine aubère %xi t)at fid) fogar ben ©pottuamen ber ,,nad)mittdg=
lid)en" jugejogen. iUele SBIilten ^alten ©iefta in ben l^eifeen Slageciftunben,
inbem fie bie 33Iumentrone mieber in ben Jietd) nerfd)ïiefeen unb bie 23ïiiten=
ftiele mie jum ':).Hittag§fd)ldfd)en f)erabnidcn ïaffen. @in fylad)§felb" bffnet bie
Mauen Slngen feiner 93Iumen iibert)aupt nur be§ lUirmittag^j unb ()dlt fie beo
Stac^mittago gefd)loffen.
®ie meiften 23ïumen ge^en gegen 5lbenb jur 9îu^e ; aber e§ gibt unter i^nen
aud) -lîad)tfd)lr)drmcrinnen, bie bei Zaç[ fd)(afen unb erft in ber S)untelftunbe
fid)tbar uicrben. Unter il)nen finben fid) t)od)intereîfante (Seftaïten, bie fid) nur
im 5.Honb= unb ©tcrnenlid)t fd)auen laffen, obuiol)! fie nid)t nbtig bdtten, fid)
t)or bem Xage ju nerbcrgen. 3" ibnen gct)brt bie uiet befungene Sotoâblumc
be§ 9tilê unb bie tbniglidie 3}it'toria beâ^HmajonenftromS. Siepoetifd)fte unter
iï)nen ift ,,bie ^ônigin ber 3tad)t", bie erft inber ®dmmerungi()re filbcL-fc^im=
mernbe Slumentrone nott feineu 2)ufte§ auftut, um î.ltitternai^t im noUften
©lanje ftral)ït unb am anbern lllorgen Derbïii()t '- ift.
dlûà) ^. 6of)n.
1. Waci)l. — 2. en taut que. — 3. greift... cin, h)iïît. — 4. fdÇitmmern. — 5. salsifis
des prés. — 6. pisseolit. — 1. pavot. — 8. laiterou. — '.). lis d'eau. — 10. mouron. —
11. champ de chauvre. — 12. fanée.
[679] DEUTSCHER TEIL 119
($cfd)i(f|tc 9cè Z<i)iti)cê*
S)cr ©c^iil) beftanb in bon ctïteften 3e^ten getDÏ^ nur au§ etitem «Stûd
2;ierf)ûut, bûâ mtttelâ eiiteg, ben bur(^(od]crteu 9îanb .^ufammenjteïienbcu
OfîiemenS' auf bem ©pann- fe[tgeï)a(ttMt luurbc. ^Iber bie .fêun[t beS ©erdeii'j' muB
friif) erfitnben inorben fein, iinb fobalb eâ erft gelungen inar, tneic^eo iinb
gefd)meibtgeâ * Sebev l)cr5u[teUen, cntlincfelten fief) fc^ited aitis ber primitiueii
3^it^be{(eibiing bie ©anbûïe, ber ©(ï)uf) unb eub(icf) bei* ©ttefel. ®ie ûtten
2igl)ptei- trugen neden ©c^u^en auè $8aftgef(ec^t '■' foIc£)e auè fd)bnem, t)te(fac|
rei(^ oerjtertem Seber. 5liif ben ©ot)(en'^ ber Don ben ^>t)ûraonen benu^ten
<S(^u(]e befanb fid) oft baè eingebrannte ober cingecttite' 33i(b eineS an ^cinben
unb 5-iiBen gefeifelten DJianneô non entmeber branner ober jc^tuarjer §Qnt=
farbe, aifo etneê g^einbeâ — benn feine Sanbsleute ftellte ber 5(gl)pterin roter
O^arbe bar — eine ^f^itftration beâ une anâ ber 93tbel befannten 2Borte§: „^d)
luitt beine ^einbe unter beine ^yiiBe geben."
3)ie ffiibel ift e§ and), bie nnâ bie altefte 9îa(^ric^t iiber ben @d)nf} ii5er=
mitte(t^ unb 5Uiar ini 5tt)eiten S3nc^e 5Jcop, ha it)m eine Stimme auS bem
brennenben ^Bnfdje^ jurnft : „3ief)e beine Sd)ube auô, benn biei5 ift f)eilige§
Canb." S)a5 Slnéâietjen ber ©d)ube galt iiberi)anpt bei ben Drientalen aie ein
3eid)en ber ®f)rfuri^t, etina inie bei un§ baS 3lbnet)men beâ §nte§, unb ïjat fic^
aï§ folc^eâ bei ben Motjammebanern erl)alten. 3lber aiiâ) ber ©tiefet tuar ben
aïten §ebrdern tool)t betannt. ^erobot erjablt, ha'^ fie ©ticfel trugen, bie
3^it§e unb Seine bebedten, unb im iibrigen fiit)rt er bei 5lnf5at)(ung ber
^'riegsoblter bee jïerres bie ^apblagonier, ^^brl)gier unb îf)rafer al§ ftiefe(=
tragenbe 3}blfer an. 58ei ben ©riec^en imr bie ©anbale bie getobt)nlid)e
Q^ufebetleibnng filr ben 5lUtag in ©tabt unb Canb, aber ja^ofe ©tatuen nub
33afenbilber jeigen un§, baB jum 33eifpiel bao ^t)aecafinm, eine 5lrt t)on
©tiefet, ber biâ ano ^nie reid)te unb uorn gefd)iuirt tourbe, oon {yelbberren
unb 2Bi'irbentragern"' angetegt tourbe, unb hù\] iibert)aupt eine gro^c 9.1tannig-
faltigîeit in hm ©anbaïen= unb ©tiefelforinen ber ©ried)en jn finben tuar. $8ei
i^nen fotoo^l toie bei ben Struâfern unb namentïid) bei ben Sftbmeru tourbe ein
bebeutenber Curuê in ©d)ut)en getrieben, unb ein ^4-^aar fotd)er ©d)ut)e galt atS
ein fet)r auneï)inbareô ®efd)enï ober Srbftiid. 2}en eigentlic^en ©tiefel trugen
bei ben 9îômern bie ©enatoren, ^atrijier unb .firieger. S)er „(Sampaguâ"
at)nelte betu ^^baecafium ; er toar ein ©tiefel, ber biâ an bie f)aïbe Zî^abù
reic^te, oorn gefd)uiirt tuurbe unb bie 3e^en freilie^, tt>at)renb bie „6aliga",
ber eigentlicfje ©olbatenftiefel, ben g^uB ganj bebedte. ^tu 5-llitteIaïter, ba hn
9îittern unb .^nappeu haè Sifenfleib, bie inetaUene 2^einfct)iene, im ©ebrauc^
toar, fam ber ©tiefet aufeer 'IJÎobe, aud) ben ptiantaftifd)en ©c^nabelfd)uben beâ
1-4. Sfftfjî-iunbertê îonute er feine J^'onturrenj mac^en ; erft im fiinfjebnten ^'
3faf)rf)unbert tourbe er U)ieber aUgetnein getragen. 5lu5 bem ^at)re 1464 finb
ein ^aar ©tiefet .ôeinric^ê VI. oon (Sngtanb auf unfere 3eit gefommen, bie an
ber ©eite oon ber ©ot)Ie bi§ jum -^nie gefnbpft tourben unb in ben ®amafd)en
ber infanterie beS ac^t^e^nten i^abrbnnbertâ getreulic^e 9îac^abmungen
gefunben f)aben. (Sinen ungef)euren £ui;uô trieben bie begiiterten ^taffeu im
fiebjebnten ^a^t-'tjunbert mit jeuen toeiten ©d)Iappftiefe{n, bie nod) mit ©pi^en
unb ©tidereien oer,^iert toareu unb ben Xrdger getui^ ebenfo fe^r belaftigt
tjaben toie bie g(bdd)enbefe|ten ©d)imbelfc^u()e beâ oierjefjuten ^a^r^unbertê,
i . courroie. — 2. cou-de-pied. — 3. taunerie. — 4. souple. — 5. écorce. — 6. semelles.
— 7. gravée (à l'aide d'un acide). — 8. ttefext. — 9. buisson ardenl. — 10. dignitaires.
— 11. guêtres.
120 DEDTSCHER TEIL [680]
©ext bem nd)tjet)nten 3(Cit)rt)unbert liabeit bie Oîeitftieteï betnal)e jebe aubère
3ier eingelnifet itnb niir praïtifd)en o^uerfe" gebient. 9htn foU audf) tt)re 3eit
DorBet fetn, unb bie ©amaf(ï)en, bie jon[t ben eïeganten aïten iperren unb ben
îïeinen ^inbern uorbeijalten umren, gelangen 311 neuen ïriegerifd)en Sljren.
îBcrmtfcfttc 9îa(hviàiUn.
2ïm 13. 2ï^)ril ift in 23erltn bie alte Crarnisonkirche Doïïftanbig niebergebrannt.
3)er 2urm unb haé ©etoolbe ber ^irc^e finb eingcfturjt. 2}on ben im §auptfcf)iîf
untergebrac^ten O^aîjnen au§ bem ^^elbjuge 1870/71 fonnte nur eine ein^rige gerettet
inerben.
Sie bretBig tvan3ofiîc^en ©tubenten, bie feit bem 21. Sïpril in Serïin toeilten,
imirben am 22. Don bem Jfteïtor ber SBerliner Unitierfitat, ©el^eimrat Stumpf, in ber
Slnla 1 empfangen. ^nx^ nac^ 10 Ul^r ï)atten fid^ bie jungen O^vauâofen mit il^ren
beuticfien -HommiUtonen ^ unb (Saftgc5evn ", ÎOhtgliebern ber beutf(^=fran3bfiîc^en
©efellî(î|ûft, im Senatorcnjimmcr * ber Uniiierittdt uerfammelt. SSon ïner anè tiegaben
fid) bie ©dfte in bie 3lula, Uio ber 9îeftor ben fraujDfift^en ©tubenten im 9îamen ber
Itninerfitât ein ïjerjïicïieê 2GitIïommeu ï)ot. ©e{}cimrût©tumpf gab in feinerS8egrùfeung§=
anfpracf)e einen ^iftorifc^en Ûberblicf ûber bie gutroicïeïung ber JSerliner UniDerfitût,
ging bann ouf bie Organifation ber beutfc^en §Dd}id[}ulen ein unb 30g eine interefî
faute ''^^araiïetc 3nnfcC)en Sentf(^lanb§ f)of)en Sd)uten unb ber Sorbonue. ©r begrûfete
ben 23efu(ï) ber franjofifc^en Stubenten aU einen Uiid^tigcn 5cf)rttt jur §erbeifiïl^rung
eineê engeren 3(nfc()Iuffe§ ber bciben ^ulturublfer, bie gegenfeitig noneinanber ïernen
ïonnen. 3um ©c^tufe feiner 9tebe umnfd^tc ber 9îeïtor ben franâûfifc^en ^ommilitonen
einen fro^Iirfien 3tufent^alt in S)eutf(^Ianb unb fprad^ bie ^offnung au§, ba§ bie
freunbfc^aftlic^en 53nnbe, bie jïpift^en beu beutfd^en unb fran3ofifc^en ©tubenten in
biefen 2agen geïniipft merben, Don 5)auer fein mod^ten.
S)en Sauf ber ©afte ftattete ^rofeffor Slnbler non ber ©orbonne in einer tursen, in
beutf^er ©prac^e gel)aUeuen 9lebe ab. @r fteûte fic^ aU e^emaligen ©douter ber aima
mater Berolinensis t)or, ber feiner Serliner ©tnhien3eit fiir feiue fpatere (gutioidelung
ben ttcfften S)ant fc^ulbe. ®r priée in berebten îûorten bie f)oï}e ©tufe, ûuf ber beutfc^e
3[Qiffenf(ï)aft unb beutfcf)e 2et)rinftitute ftdnben, unb fprad) non ber Çioi^ac^tung, bie
bûê gefamte Sluêlûub nor ber beutfcïieu Hniuerfitdt unb il^ren glan3enben Seî^rern tjabe.
^H-ofeffor Stnbler ïenn3eid^nete bann ben S'^ved beè Scfucbec; : bie fran3ofifd^en ©dfte
JDOÏIten bie norbilblicfien ©inric^tungen Seutfdf(tanb§ fennen ïernen, um nac^ if)rem
ajtufter in ber ,'ôeimat an bie ©ri'inbung df)nli(ï)er Qnftitute gefien 3U fonnen. 3lufeerbem
fei ber SSunfd^, ben bcutfcî)en ^ommititoucn, non bercn frol)licf}er ©efeUtgïeit unb
ernftem O^Ieife fie foniel ge^ort, auc^ perfonlicf; ndl)er 3U treten, bie Sriebfeber biefer
©tubienretfe geuiefen.
1. salle des fêtes. — 2. ^ameraben. — 3. hôtes. — 4. salle du conseil.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 16
20 Mai 1908.
g« Année.
DEUTSCHER TEIL
<Bcfmif(ï)tf 9lat()rirf)tcn.
^ic 5cutfd)cn ^urftcu tot'un Sia'xycx 5ra"î ^o\t} I.
2tin ~. DJiai feierte Siaxïtx ^yrana 3ofef I- î^en jec^jigften ©ebenïtag ' fcineê
gîegierungôantrittê. Sei biefem 3lnIaB fanb in ©d^onénmn eine §uïbigung ^ fdmt=
iicf)er beuti'tïien Sunbeêîurften ftatt.
3ltê ber e'^runtrbige §errfc^er in ben
^reiê ber g^itrften trat, unirbe er mit
einem einmiitigen S^t'el^'iif begrïtêt.
ïltit Dor tiefer ®rregung jitternber
©timme berlaê ^aifer 2BiI^eIm
folgenbe 3tnipïad^e :
gtne et'^eïienbe fîiisung ' ber 9ott=
lichen ©nabe unb aiorfe'^ung '' t[t e§,
bic un§ am "^eutigen Sage um bte
erfiafiene ^perjon guerer iîaiferïid^en
unb ^i3mgli(^=ît^oftoUic^en Dîtajeftat
liereinigt. Sec^jig "^aijXt, jlnei D]îen=
ic()enalter '^aten Suere ^aiferlic^e unb
^oniglic^=5(poi"toUjc^e gjlajeftat in nie
raftenbem (Sifer unb treuefter, ebeïfter
'iîfltc^terfiillung bent aSo^I unb bent
©tiicf S^rer SSolter geltiibmet. 53tit
berec^tigtem ©tolj unb ^oï)er ®enug=
tuung mag e§ haS, Çerj (Suerer ÎHajeftat
erfiillen, ttiie tion alien ©eiten bie
Untertonen bent in g^rfuvc^t geïieïiten
Çerrîc^er bie ïanbeêDaterïid^e 2reue
mit l^ingebenber SieBe unb 2)an!6arïeit
ju oergelten bemû^t finb. 5l6er nx^ï nur ^3]UUionen eigener Sanbeêfinber jubeïn in frôler
5e[te§ftimntung if)rem î)eiBgeliet)ten ^aifer unb iîonig, — nein, auà) lueit ^inau§ iièer bie
©rensen ber ^3]tonarcf)ie Beugt fief) bie 2BeU in «Derefirung unb Setnunberung Cor ber eï)r=
miirbigen ©eftolt gurer 5)tajeftat.
guère Majeftat jel)en ^ier brei ©enerationen beutfc^er ^iirften um \\à) oeriammett unb
ïeinen barunter, bem Êuere 5)îa)eftat nic^t jt^on ein SSorbilb geloefen Waren, bebor er ielbft
berufen toar, bie ^l!flid)ten jeine§ t)o^en 2tmte§ ju iiben. Un§ aUen '^aBen guère ^]]}ajeftat
in iec^jigja^riger 3trtieit etn l)errUc^eë Seifpiel aufgefteUt, tnoran fic^ nod^ bie .«iîinber unb
gntel ber ^iingfi^" unter un§ erbauen tijerben.
@o finb toir benn, bie treuen greunbe unb SSertiiinbeten (Surer ^aiferïicfjen unb ^bnigîic^=
mpoftoUjd^en Majeftat unb mit un§ 3^re Majeftat bie ^aiierin unb fionigin, meine
©ema^Un, '^ier^er geeilt, um 3eugniê atijutegen eon ben l^eralic^en ©efii^ten inniger
«aifer )^xa\\\ ^ofet 1.
1. anniversaire. — 2. hommage rendu par. — 3. permission. — 4. Providence,
rgn allbm. 16
122 DEUTSCHER TEIL [722]
greunb^c^aft unb Stntianglic^feit, bie un§ fur Sucre yJîaieftat tefeeïeu. 3Iu§ fieinegtent ^erjen
ï)ringert ton uui'ere ^ulbigung bar bem eblen ^errîdjer, bem treuen SBunbeëgenoffen, bem
mdt^tigcn §ort be§ griebenë, auf beffen §aupt ttiir ben reti^ften Segen @otte§ ï|era'6fle'^en_
Sfit beloegten Sôorten banîte barauf ber ïaiferliiïie ^ubilar:
guère ïatferïtd^e unb îoniglic^e 5)tajeftdt "^aïien im a5erem mit Setner ïonigïtd^en Ço'^eit
bem -Çrinjregenten Don a3at)ern, S^ren ^Kajeftaten ben .^îonigen bon Sac^fen unb 2Burttem=
ï)erg, ben ï)ter anlucienbcn S)ur(^ïauc§ttgften ' unb Suri^ïaucfitigen beutfc^en 23unbeêfurften
unb bem SSertreter ber ^^reien §anfeftabte ^ ben tieBenêhJurbtgen Sntfi^luiî gefaf]t, mir au§
?(n(afe ber grreicfjung meine§ 60. 3îegieïung§jo^re§ ferfonli(^ ^fire ©lûtïtDÛnft^e bar3U=
tirtngen.
®iefer SSeweiê ^^rer mir \o ûberauê teueren J^-'sunbid^aft, ber ju ben ïofttiarften 6rinnc=
tungen meine§ £eï)en§ ge^orcn iuirb, ï|ût mein fierj auf ba§ freubtgfte Beriiïjrt, unb idj bitte
Sie, {)ierfUr raeinen innigften, tief empfunbenen ®anî entgegenjune'^men.
^â) barf in biefem mtd^ in î)o'^em 5)îaf3e begtiiiïenben ?ltte ^erjïic^er 3uneigung toof)! eine
feierlid)e ^unbgeOung ' be§ monarc()Tf(^en îpïinjipâ erïiïicîen, bem S)eutj(^Ianb feine Madjt
unb ©rô^e tierbantt. %uâ) Cfterreidj4lngarn§ ,$îraft liegt in biefem 5pringt^3, unb in ber
treuen unb umnanbelbaren fiieBe meiner 3.>olfer l)abe i(^ ftet§ neue 3"^ erfid^t gefi^b^ft, um
ben mir oblicgenben fc^tneren 5pflic^ten gerecf)t 3U n)erben. S)te 2atfac§e, ha'^ e§ mir fjeute
oergbnnt ift, eine fo gro^e Stnjaïjl beutfc^er Jiirften um miiï) Cerfammelt ju fe^en, ift auc^
bie ûuêbrudêtioUfte Seftiitigung beê 3rtiifcf)en un§ feit îicina'^e brcifjig ^aïjren befte^enbcn engen
unb unerfc^iitterïicf^en 5Bunbe§tierï)dUniffc§.
®iefer îag beftarft mii^ in ber frof)en Srluartung, baf] biefel nur frieblii^e 3'^'^'^ ber=
folgenbe 33iinbni§ bem gïcid^en Seftreben ber anbcren 93îac{)te toirffam jur ©eite ftet)en, feine
2(ufga6e ïii§ in bie fernfte 3ufunft OoU erfiilleu rticrbc.
^c^ bitte bie gi3ttlicf)e i^orfe^u^g, fie moge (Sure '■JJlajeftaten unb aile bcutfd^en Sunbe§=
fiirften fovie aud) ^iï)re ^Jîajcftat bie .riaifcrin unb .Ûonigin, beren ?lnh)cfenï)cit mid) tief
riiï)rt unb ju ludrmftcm San! ucr^flid)tet, fiir aile 3citcn in itjren gnabigen (Sd)u^ nefjmcn.
Sd)i((eië 2otciimaQfe ift Oov ïurjem ans bem ïJ3efilj ber î^îac^ïomnteii* beô îôeimarer
Sûrgermeifterô ©djinak tu ben beô ©c^itIer=DJhifeumê in DJiarbad) iiîierget3angen, ©le
ift bie erfte 3lliformuni] auê ber an ber Seirfie fetèft Don ^(auer ijefdjaffenen {yorm ;
ein jmeiter, an ber Dlafe Derunftalteter ©ipêabguB'' kfiubet fid) in ber 2Ûetutavcr
SSibliotfieï. Ste ba unb bort fid) ftnbenben îtbgiiffe finb unoottfommene 3îad)bilbungeu
ber ®d)liia6efd)eu 2oteumaête unb geben i'iberbieé nur bas ©efid}t, irdbfenb nnr i\[ex
bie g^orm be^ gan.^en .rîopfcê i)abn\, ber bamalé nollftanbtg aôgegoffen imtrbe. Sa bie
SJtaêïe auë Ieid)t gebranntem 2on ï)ergefte(lt nnirbc, fo finb tf}re DJÎafje infolgc ber
6rt}drtung um ein geringe'5 fteiner, aU ber ,ftopf ©d^itlerê fetbft mar. ©ie gidt aile
3^ormen unb ben gaujen (ïl)araïter ber .spautoberf(dd)e mit aEen ïleinen 3^dltd)en'" aufè
getrcuefte iuieber.
* *
3lm G. SOlai fanb in Ciffabon bie feierïi(^e ©tbeèïeiftung unb bie '^proïtamation .'fîontg
SQlannelê II. im ©i^ungsfaate ber Seputtertenfammer in ©cgeniuart ber 'i]3aivo, ber
9lbgeorbncten, ber i}oi)en Seamten unb beô gefamten biplomatifc^en ^orpê ftatt. ®er
^bnig traf îur,5 waà) 2 llbv nad)mittag§ im '•Jparlament ein. ©obalb er ^ta^ genommen
^atte, bot tt)m ber 5prdfibent ©oangelium unb ^ru,5ifir bar. §ierauf (eiftete ber .«ilouig,
ber haé ©jepter in ber tinten ^^anb trug, unter 93erlefung beê entfpred)enben 9(rtitelê
ber a^erfaffung ben @ib. îllèbanu proïlamierte ber Oberbannertrdger ©raf be ©. Sous
rençD, oon ^erolben begleitet, ben ^onig nom 93a(fon berab. ®ie ÎDlenge Dor bem
^alaiê brad) in begeifterte 3u^"iif6 ûu§. Strtitleriefalocn anê ber lyeftung unb non ben
©d^iffen Oerfiinbeten bie ^roflamation beè ^i3nig§.
5. éiiiiaenlissimes. — 6. villes hanséatiques. — 1. manifestation. — 8. descendants. —
9. moulage. — 10. petites rides.
[723J DEDTSCHKR TEIL 123
5)ie bie§jat)rigen rï)einiicf)en Jeftipieïe in ©ûffetborf unter Seitung Don ^Rax ©ru6e
beginnen am 28. Qimi unb bauern Inô ,511111 12. 3uït. ®ô gelangen gur 3Uiffût)ntng
,,9tomeo unb ^iiUa", ,,SorQuatD ïaffo", ba§ ,,Semetrius={}ragment", ,,:^dtcE)en non
^eildronn", ,4ÏÏ)ilDtaê" unb ,,S:er 9lu6in" bon §ebkL ©né (el^tgenannte StûcE ge^t
in einer neuen Siil)ncueinri(^tnng lion DJtaj- ©rube in @3enc.
2»tcns©ctlin.
Ut>ct btc 3«"C"v>rf)t""9 ' l'f»' ^ttuîct ttt 5!»icu unb JBctliu.
3ft fcfpn baâ 5lufeeve beê SBiener 2BDf)nf)au|e§ tjon bem ^Berlinerfo grunbnerid^ieben,
ha^ man fc^on non nodftânbiger g^rembartigfeit fprec^en ïann, une feîjr trifft bieê erft
bei ber 3(nlage ber 2Boï)nungen felbft ju» ®ie SBerïiner 2Bo^nung blivfte in bejug auf
,^omfort unb 3li-iecîmaBigîeit ico^ï in ïeinem Sanbe iibertroffen toerben ; auâ) ni(ï)t Hou
ber englifcfien 28oï)nung. §ier f)at fief) toieber îietoaî)rï)eitet -, ba& fic^ baê ?8ebiirfniâ
feiue Crgane fc^afft. Saë Sebiirfniô beô Sertinerô uatf) SSetjaglidjfeit unb ^^wed-
îHciBigfeit luirb in feinen 2Ûof)nungen auf boê glan^enbfte erfiitit. Saê 33erliner
îpublifum ift in be^ug auf 233oï)nuugêanIûgen oenuofjut^ luorbcn toie fein anbereê irgenb
einer ©tabt. S)ie ,,mit aïïem ^omfort ber îîeuaeit auêgeftatteten*" SGol^nungen, loomit
bie 33erliner §au§eigentiimer bie ^arteien aulocïen, gibt e§ in SSien nur in inenigen
unb bementfprecEienb' teuren ©remplaren. 3m aûgemeinen ift bie 2Bieuer 5JBoï)nung beê
9JtitteIftanbeê*^ gerabegu primitiD 3U nenuen ; fie ge^t felten iiber baô 5JtaB beâ
Dîotuienbigen, oft îaum ïiber ba§ beê Stiïernotiuenbigften Ijinauê. ®ie ®r!er unb
23aIton§, bie 9Jîdb(ï)en= unb ©peifeÏQmmern, bie gemaïten Seden, bie Stutfatnr, bie
3;apeten, bie ïleinen ©i^erje, toie SBarmtoafferleitung, eingemauerte ©eïbfpinbe',
Selcp^on nadE) ber 2Safcf)îû(ï)e ufiu., bie man in 23erlin boc^ fo ficiufig antrifft, fie
mogen in ïôien in (Sefanbtenpaldfîen ober auc^ in einigen ber 5Dliïïiondr§liioï)nungeu
tiortommen, in ben S)ur(ï)fcf)nittêit)of)nungen, non beneu ic^ i)m fprecfie, finb fie uicÇit
3U finben ; ift boc^ in 2Bien fogar bie Sapete fc^on ein Sujuê unb bie meifteu
1ÏOoî)nungcn blo§ iibertiincfit unb mit einer Matrone iibermatt, fo ba'Q man innerf)alb
ber nadften SBdnbe n)ol)nt. 2)ie ®eden finb ba meift mit gefd^madflofen patronierten
Drnamenten ner3iert, bie Ofen finb unanfe'^nïic^e ^at^elfonftrnftionen, bie bem ^intittei'
nic^t ben ©cOmuct unb nidji bie anbauernbe 233drme lierleif)en mie bie 23erliner 9Jtonu=
mentatofen. 3^t^tralf)ei3nng fott in ben 3!)îilIiondrêmot)nungen bortommen, ein geloo^n=
licier @terblict)er nermag fitf) fold^er raffinierter (ïinri(ï)tungen in 5ïûien nic^t 3U
erfreuen. ^ur3, bie SBiener aOSot)nung fte'^t meiïenmeit ^inter ben Serïiner 2Boî)nungen
3uriicî. — 2rotîbem mo'^nt man in 2Bien nic^t bitlig. 531an 3aï)It t)ier ungefal^r baè in
©ulben, maê man in ÎBerlin in ^Ravî 6e3af)(t ober, mit anberen ïïûorten, man muf3 fief)
in 2Bien mit ber §affte ber 9îdume begnûgen. Seêt)aï6 gibt eô aud^ in 2Bien mel^r
ïteinere 2G5o:^nungen aU in SSerlin. 3ft e^ bort fc^on fermer, in befferen §dufern eine
nad) ber ©tra^e gelegene S)rei3immermoï)nuug 3U finben, fo gibt e§ in SBien ûud^ fe^r
niele 3toei3immeruio^nungen, bie i^rer 3lnlage unb if)rem ^h-eife nac^ fïir beffere SJlieter
beftimmt finb. 3m atfgemeinen fd^rdnït man fi(^ in biefer Se3ie:^ung in 3Bien fel)r ein.
3n ^Berlin ift bie aSo^nung ber Hîafeftab beê gefamten iibrigen Sebenê. ®o mie man
lDoî)nt, fo îleibet man fid^ ; im a3erf)dltnig 3um 9Jhetpreife ftefien bie gefetlfcfiaftfic^en
SSerpffic^tungen, bie SSergniigungen, bie 23abereife nfm. ^n SBien ïann man biefen
iïRafeftab nid^t anïegen. 30lan fpart in erfter Sinie an ber SBo^nnug.
5lu§ bem Sui^ non Stffreb §. gfrieb : „2Bien=33erïin".
1. disposition intérieure. — 2. vérifié. — 3. gâlé. — 4. pourvus. — 5. conséquemmeat.
— 6. classe moyenne. — 7. ©|)inbe = Sti^ranî.
124 DEUTSCHER TEIL [724]
Hamburger Momentbilder.
I. — Das arbeitsame Hamburg.
Mit dem Begriff Hamburg ist fur den Binnenlander ' unzertrennlich der
des iiberseeischen Handels und der Schiffahrt, des Rcichtums und der
Freiheit. Was die «Freibeit» anbctrifft, so weifî zwar jeder Orienlierte'^, da6
auch in Hamburg nur mil Wasser gelvocht wird ^ dafi es aucb hier so etwas
wie Bureaukratie und Polizeigeist gibt — wenn auch vielleicht nicht in so
reiner Kultur wie in PreuÊen. Aber mit dem andern bat der Binnenliinder
den Nagel auf den Kopf getroffen^
Obne die Schiflfahrt und den ûberseeischen Handel wâre Hamburg eine
Grofîstadt wie so viele andere. Das weiÊ hier jeder. Hamburgs Hafenverkehr
ist der Lebensnerv der Stadt, die Quelle ihres Reichtums. Darum wird aHes
getan, ihn zu heben. Mit einem Kostenaufwand^ von Hunderten von Millionen
wurden im Laufe der Jahre die groften Hafenanhigen geschatfen, die der Elbe
das Aussehen eines Meeresarmes verleihen. Und schon tragt man sich mit
dem Gedanken, nach Finkenwiirder zu neiie Hafen anzulegen. Aus der
Kramerstadt^ an der Alster entstand die Handelsmetropole, an der die grôÊten
Ozeandanipfer anlegen.
Ein Tag, am Hafen verlebt, und eine Hafenrundfahrt auf einem der
schnellen Fiihrdampfer zu dem lacherlich billigen Preise von zehn Pfennigen
geben einen Begriff davon, was intensive Arbeit heifit. Pfeilschnell schieÊen
Barkassen undMotorboote''durch die lehmfarbige^ Flut, die vor dem scharfen
KieP weifjgischtend '<> emporspritzt. Dicke Rauchwolken ausstofsend, ziehen
langsam mit mifstonendem Pfeifen kleine Schleppdampfer " dahin, schwer
beladene Schuten'^ im Tau hinter sich herziehend. An den kilometerlangen
Kaianlagen der verschiedenen Hâfen — Segelschitfhafen, Petroleumhafen,
Brandenburger Hafen, und wie sie aile heifsen — eine fieberhafte Ttitigkeit.
VomkleinstenEwer'^ der die Elbe herabkam, biszum Windhund'^ des Ozeans,
der eben von einer Amerikareise zuriickkehrte, liegen die Fahrzeuge neben
einander. Aber nicht in untiitiger Ruhe. Hunderte, Tausende von fleifiigen
Hiinden entlôschen '^ von ihnen oder verslauen "^ auf ihnen Waren, deren Wert
in die Millionen geht.
Winden''' klirren, Krane '** knarren, kurze ranlie Kommandorufe ertonen.
Ailes geht wie am Schniirchen '^. Die verschiedensten Sprachen schwirren
durcheinander, aus den Werften und Werkstiitten drôhnt Hammern, Feilcn
undHobeln^o. Ein Vibrieren der Lufl von Gerausch und Schweifî, bis sich bei
Feierabend ein Heer berufster^i, sehniger^^ Miinnerin die Stadt ergiefît, um
sich vom Tagewerk zu erholen.
Und doch tritt absolute Ruhe auch nachts nicht ein. Sitzt man an lauen-^
Friihlings- oder warmon Sommcrabenden auf der Terrasse des Fahrhaus-
Restaurants, so sieht man das Wasser seltsam bewegt von weiÊen, grunen
und roten Lichtern, die dariiber hingleiten. Schitfe kommen an und gehen
ah, zwischen ihnen sausen die Barkassen der Hafenpolizei und der
Zollbeamten-^ hindurch. Und auf zur Abfahrt riistenden Ozeandampfern wird
die ganze Nacht hindurch gearbeitet, so àak ihr elektrisches Licht bis zum
grauenden Morgen iiber den Hafen leuchtet.
Ein Bild nimmerrastender Arbeit, das noch verstarkt wird, wenn man den
1. terrien. — 2. inilié. — 3. dali die Freiheit nicht allzu groli ist. — 4. das Richtige
getrofTen. — S. dépense. — 6. ville d'épiciers, de petits marchands. — 7. canots au-
tomobiles. — 8. Lehm ^ argile. — 9. proue. — JO. Gischt, écume. — H. remor-
queurs. — 12. chalands. — 13. Schifflein. — 14. lévrier. — 15. déchargent. — 16.
chargent. — 17. crics. — 18. grues. — 19. à la baguette. — 20. des bruits de mar-
teaux, de limes, de rabots. — 21. couverts de suie. — 22. vigoureux. — 23. tièdes.
— 24. douaniers.
[725]
DEDTSCHER TEIL
12c
Hafeii auf Kuhwarder — vom Altonaer Fischmarkt ans mit dem Ftihrdampfer
leicht zu erreichen — besichtigt. Dort ankern die ganz grofien Seescliiffe,
iinter ihnen das grufste mit Dampfmaschine ausgeriistete Segelschiff der
Welt, der FLïnfmaster « R. C. Rickmers », das eine Lange von 134, lo Mtr., eine
Breite von 16,35 Mtr., eine Tiefe von 9,-28 Mtr. und eine Wasserverdrângung
von iiber 11000 Tons hat — und, um die Schnelligkeit der Segelfahrt zu
erhohen, eine Maschinenstârke von 1 160 HP.
Auf der Elbinsel Kuhwarder hat auch die Hamburg- Amerika-Linie, die
miteinem Kapilal von 120 Miilionen Mk. arbeitet, ihre gewaitigen Anlagen.
Schuppen -•■ erheben sich dort, iiber 1 300 Schritte lang, wo sowohl die Schifïe
anlegen als auch die Eisenbahnwaggons herantahren. Giiterannahme fiir
Ostasien, fiir Westindien und Mexiko usw. liest man — und die Worte lassen
einen ebenso kalt wie die Aufschrift iiber den gewôhnlichen Postbriefkiisten
« Einwurf fiir Briefe, fiir Drucksachen und Warenproben usw. » Als hiitte es
dem menschlichen Geist und der Talkraft vergangener Geschlechter nicht
riesenhafte Anstrengungen gekostet, die Enlfernung zwischen Weltteilen zu
einer Bagatelle zu machen, die der elektrische Funke fast ins Reich der Fabel
weist.
{Forlsetzung folgt.)
Rudolf BRAUNE-RofjLA.
25. hangars.
(S()|tt)(tlbcnUcï>.
i.
5luâ fernem Sanb,
i^om ')3îeerc§[tranb,
?luf t)ol)en, tufticjen SSegen
[yliegft, ScfiUialde, bu
Cl}ne 9îaft itiib Oîiit)'
®er lieben -s^eimat entgegen.
2.
P fprid), H)of)ei-
iiber Sanb unb ïltcer
.§aft bu bie ,iîunbe ' uevnommeu,
3)afe im ^cimathiub
5)er 3Sintei- fdjwanb
Uub ber JrittjUng, ber [yriitiling
[gefommeu ?
1. nouvelle.
3.
Sein 8ieb(ï)eu fprtrfit :
„2Sei^ felber nic^t,
2Bof)er mtr gefommeu bie 5}la^nuug ;
^oàj fort unb fort
isou Drt 5U Ort
Socft mict) bie 5rû^tiug'3at)uung'-»
Bo of)ne iftaft,
;ju freubiger .S^aft
3tuf t)ol)eu, luftigen 333egen
Jlieg' iâ) uuoerloanbt
3)em .*ôeimatlaub,
Xem (eu,^gefd)nuicîteu, entgegen".
^uliuê (gturm.
2. îl^nung =^ pressentiment.
Goethe*.
I
Was Gœthe in den Augen franzôsischer iind englischer Léser besonders
auszeichnet, ist eine Eigenschaft, die er mit seinem Voik gemein hat :
eine gewohnheitsmafiige Achtung vor innerer Wahrheit. In England und
Siehe die vier andern Telle.
126 DEUTSCHER TEIL 1726
Amerika hat man Achtung vor Talent; und wenn dièses sich im Dienst
eines anerkannten oder leicht erkeniibaren Interesses oder einer Partei
-oder auch in regelrechtem Kampf dagegen betàtigt, so ist das Publikum
zufrieden. In Frankreich ist die Freude, die man an glânzenden intellek-
tuellen Gaben um ihrer selbst willen hat, sogar noch grôfeer. Und in
allen diesen Lândern schreiben talentvolle Leute eben, um dièse Gabe
auszunutzen. Es genûgt, wenn der Yerstand dadurch beschiiftigt, der
Geschmack zufrieden gestelltwird — wenn so und so viele Seiten,so und
so viele Stunden auf unterhaltende und anstândige Weise ausgefiillt
werden, Dem deutschen Geist fehlt die franzôsische Lebhaftigkeit, das
schône praktische Yerstàndnis des Englânders, der amerikanische Aben-
teurersinn ; aber ihm ist einegewisse Elirlichkeit eigen, die sich niemals
mit oberflâchiichem Scheinwesen begniigt, sondern stets fragt : « Wozu?»
Ein deutsches Publikum verlangt eine priïfende Wahrhaftigkeit. Hier
haben wir rege Gedanken — aber was besagen sie? W'as meint der Mann
damit ? Woher, woher aile dièse Gedanken ?
Talent allein kann keinen Schriftsteller machen. Es mufî ein Mann
hinter dem Biich stehen : eine Persôniichkeit, die durch Geburt und
Charakter auf die darin aufgestellten Lehren eingeschworen ist, die nur
dazu da ist, die Dinge so und nicht anders zu sehen und darzustellen.
Und wenn etwas ist, so mufi es dabei bleiben. Kann er sich heute nicht
richtig ausdriicken, nun so bleiben ja die Dinge da und werden ihm
morgen verstandlich werden. Er hat die Last auf seiner Seele — die Last
der Wahrheit, die er zu erklàren hat, und deren Yerstàndnis ihm melir
oder weniger bereits aufgegangen ist ; es ist sein Geschâft und sein Beruf
auf dieser Welt mit diesen Tatsachen fertig zu werden und sie bekannt
zu machen. Was kommt's daranf an, dafe er stolpert und stottert ; dafi
seine Stimme rauh und heiser ist; dafi seine Darstellungsweise oder
seine Ausdrucksmittel unzulànglich sind '?
Die Botschaft wird selber Stil und Gleichnis, Ausdruck und Mélodie
fmden. Und wàre er stumm, sie wiïrde doch sprechen. Wenn nicht — wenn
in dem Mann kein solches Gotteswort lebt — was fragen wir danach, ob
^r ein geschickter, gewandter, glànzender Schriftsteller ist?
[Fortsetzung folgt.) Emerson.
Wodan oder Odin*.
I
Hell glànzen und schimmern von Gold und Silber in Asgard, dem
himmlischen Reiche, die hochragenden Burgen und Hallen der Gôtter ;
doch aile anderen hoch ïiberragend strahlt in lichtem Goldglanze weit-
hin iiber aile Welt NYalhalls weite Halle. Ein goldener Hochsitz steht in
derselben ; auf ihm thront ein hehrer' Greis,mit grauem Haar,und langem
weiftem Bart. Blitze zucken aus seinem einzigen Auge : nach Sûden ist
sein Antlitz gewandt. An seinen goldenen Stuhl gelehnt steht sein Speer;
* Siehe Nuinmern \, 2 und d2.
1. erhabener.
[727 j DEUTSCHtR TEIL 127
zwei Raben Hugin (Gedanke) und J/wx/n (Erinnerungj^ sitzen aufseinen
Achseln, mit den Flûgeln schlagend und ihm ins Ohr tlûsternd. Die
sendet Allvater Wodan, wie ihn die Deutschen, Odin, wie ihn die Skan-
dinavier nennen alltaglich ans iiber die ganze Erde, ihm Kunde zu
bringen vom Stande der \Yelt; was sie erkundet haben, raiinen- sie ihm
ins Ohr. Auf goldenem Schemel ruhen seine Fûlie. Zii seinen Fûl^en
niedergekauert' liegen zwei Wôlfe; ihnen wirft er von der Speisevor, die
man ihm vorsetzt ; denn er bedarf nur des Trankes,
« Da nur von Wein der waffenhehre
Odin ewig lebt. »
Das ganze Weltall iïberschaut Allvater Wodan von diesein goldenen
Hochsitz ans, nichts entgeht seinem Blick; von hier ans lenkt er der
Yulker Geschicke wie das Schicksal der einzelnen Menschen.
Der Name des Gebieters der Gôtter und Menschen Wodan (Wuotan),
altnordisch Odin, hângt sowohl mit dem Zeitwort « waten », als mit dem
verwandten Hauptwort « Wut » zusammen und bezeichnet den Gott
einerseits als einen durchschreitenden, durchdringenden, andrerseits als
einen Gott geistiger Erregung, und so ist Wodan in der Tat der Gott des
ailes durchdringenden Luf'thauches und des Geisteshauches, jeder geistigen
Bewegung. Wie Luft und Geist ailes umschliefien und durchdringen, so
auch Wodan in seinem Walten : er ist der allwaltende Gott, dessen
Wirken sich auf die verschiedensten Gebiete des Lebens der x\atur und
der Menschen erstreckt. Die Yielseitigkeit^ seines Wesens bezeichnet
die Edda, indem sie ihm eine Menge von Namen, deren jeder eine andere
Seite seines Wirkens hervorhebt, beilegt.
Wodan waltet im lindesten Sauseln der lauen Sommerluft wie im
furchtbar brausenden, ailes vernichtenden Stnrm. Wodan ist als Wind-
beherrscher zugleich Wassergott. als welcherer den Namen Hnihai-, der
Nix, fiihrt. Zu ihm tlehen die Schiffer um « Wunschwind », umgiinstigen
Fahrwind. Er wandelt iiber das tosende Meer, stillt der Wellen Wiiten
und gebietet dem Sturme Schweigen. Zuweilen làfit er in menschlicher
Gestalt sich in ein Schiff aufnehmen, um seine Schiilzlinge glûcklich
durch Wind und Wellen zu geleiten. Als Beschûtzer der Schiffsfrachten
ist er zugleich ein Gott der Kautleute.
Wie Wodan, der Gott des Lufthauches, in jeder Regung der Luft waltet,
so wirkt er als Gott des Geisteshauches auch in jeder Bewegung des
Geistes, in den sanften Regungen der Liebe wie im wilden Kampfeszorn.
Der Gott des tosenden Sturmes ist es zugleich, der die Helden zu
stiirmischer Kampfeslust begeislert, der seine Lust hat an todes-
verachtender Tapferkeit: Speerkrachen und Schwerterklirren, das wilde
Toben der Feldschlacht erfreut sein Ohr. Von Wodans Geist beseelt
stiirmen die deutschen Helden der Urzeit von Kampf zu Kampf ; Krieg ist
ihre hôchste Lust, Sieg ihr hôchstes Gut. der Tod auf dem Schlachtfelde
in ihren Augen der einzige, der eines wackeren Mannes wiïrdig ist. Nur
wer auf der WalstattMàllt oder an den im Kampfe erhaltenen Wunden
stirbt, wird von Wodan, dem Schlachtengotte, dem Heervater, in seine
hohe, himmlische Halle aufgenommen. Darum heifit sie Walhall; denn
'^ Wal » bedeutet die in der Schlacht Gefallenen. Walhall ist also die
flostern. — 3. accroHpis. — 4. complexité. — 5. champ de bataille.
128 DEDTSGHER TEIL [728]
Halle, welche die in der Schlacht Gefallenen aufnimmt. In der Edda
heilît es :
« Golden schimmert
VValhalls weite Halle.
Da kiest * sich Odin aile Tage
Vom Schwert erschlagene Manner.
Leicht erkennen konnen, die zu Odin kommeii,
Den Saal, wenn sie ihn seheii :
Ans Schiiften ist das Dach gefiigt und mit Schilden bedeckt,
Mit Brùnnen (Panzern) die Biinke bestreut.
Leicht erkennen konnen, die zu Odin kommen,
Den Saal, wenn sie ihn sehen :
Ein Wolf hiingt \'or dem westlichen Tor,
i'ber ihm schwebt ein Aar. »
Wïirdig geziert ist also des Schlachtenlenkers Halle: Speerschâfte und
Schilde bilden das Dach, glânzende Panzer schmiicken das Innere ; Wolf
und Aar, die Tiere der Walstatt, welche die Leichen auf dem Schlachtfelde
fressen, zieren das Tor. Hoch wôlbt sich ïiber W'alhall mit weitverzweigtem
Geast der Wipfel der ^YeUesche ; an ihm weidet eine Ziege, aus deren
Euter der Met fliefet, den die Einherier, « die Schreckenskàmpfer », die
Helden in Heervaters Saale, trinken. Ungeheuer grofi ist die Halle :
« Fûnfhundert Tiiren und viermal zehn
WeiÊich in Walhall.
Achtluuîdert Einherier gehn aus je einer.
Wenn es den Wolf zu wehren gilt. »
{Forlsetzung folgl.)
Nach Lange.
C. choisit.
Eine passende Gesellschafterin'.
Eine wohl verdiente Lektion erhielt eine Dame, die folgende Annonce
hatte inserieren lassen : « Eine Dame von zarler Gesundheit sucht eine
passende Gesellschai'terin. Die mufi hàuslich, musikalisch, liebens-
wiirdig, in der Ptlege erfahren, von gutem Aussehen sein und friih
aufstehen. Temperenzlerinnen- bevorzugt \ Gemiitliches Heim, kein
Gehalt\ » Einige Tage spàter erhielt die Dame einen Korb, Als er geôlfnet
wurde, priisentierte sich eine — Katze als inhalt, die am Halse einen mit
hùbschen Bàndchen befestigten Brief folgenden Inhalts trug : « Gnàdige
Frau ! Es freut niich, Hinen auf Hir Ausschreiben eine durchaus passende
Gesellschafterin senden zu konnen, die allen Ihren Anforderungen'^
entspricht. Sie ist hàuslich, im Besitz guter Stimmmittel, steht friih auf,
besitzt einen liebensvviirdigen Charakter und gilt allgemein fiir hiibsch,
Sie hat als Ptlegerin grofte Erfahrung, da sie schon eine grofie Famille
aufgezogen hat. Ich branche kaum zu bemerken, dafi sie voUstandig
Temperenzlerin ist. Gehalt beansprucht^ sie nicht und sie wird Ihnen fur
ein gemiitliches Heim durch treue Dienste danken. »
1. dame de coinpafjnie. — 2. membres d'une société de tempérance. — 3. préférées.
— 4. traitement, gaijes. — 5. exigences. — 6. réclame.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 17. 5 Juin 19C8. 8" Année.
DEUTSCHER TEIL
^ic (^inmciOuttg ' i>cr Spoi}toxno^9bxiv^.
%\\\ 13. 93îai unirbe bie dei Scf)tettftabt im ^{]o.\i (jeïegene ^oljïonigéduvg nacf) ifjrer
?Rejtauviening tu feierlidjev ïijeiie eingeuieiljt.
S)ûô 5'eft tuav eine Sfiieberevuiedung be§ Scf^aufpieïê, bas fic^ im 3af)ve io3o bei
ber ilbevgabe ber .'polifonigoburg an bie ©oljne beo berii()mten (îranj Don Sidfiiigen,
§an§ iinb Çï'itM abgejpielt butte, fiaifer ÎJtaïimiliûn, ber biinfiiî «n ©elbnbten litt,
batte bie Surg werpfanbet 2.
2)er ©icfingergug % ber ficb non Sdjïettftabt jur 23nrg begab iinb am ^aifer uoritber
inê ^nnere ber §ol)tDnigèburg getangte beftanb au-o eff (Sruppcn (§erotben^, Dîeiiigen-',
ïrommlern, ^^^feifern, .*pet(ebarbentrdgern, Sanbôfnecf^ten, ujtxi.).
®er .Raifer, bie .^aiferin unb bie ^ringen tuaien um li % llbr non ^arlêrube
ïommenb in St ^pilt eingetroffen, ^^atten bort bie bereitfle{)enben 5(utomobi(e beftiegen
nnb itiaren 3ur ^oïifbnigdbnrg btnaufgefabren.
9îa(ï)bem ber 3i'9 ooriiber loar, begab fid) ber .j^aifer in ben erftcn 58urgbof unb bieit
in Seantioortung ber 5tnfpradje beô Staatêfeïretars lion Setbmann^.'poUuieg folgenbe
Dtebe:
2ll§ id^ tnt ^abve 1899 jum erften 5Jîaïe bie IRuine ber §obfbnig§burg mit t'^ren gehjaïttgen
Saureften benjunbevte unb tiou bet laubfcbûftlid^ Irie liiftortîcb io ïeijuollen Statte a\x%
metnen SBlicf iiber bie 3{ï)t'ineï)eue unb bie JBcvge be§ Sdjluarjttialbey biê biu ju ber in ber
gerne fd^immernbeu 5ilpenfette jc^nieifen lieg, Inar e§ mir eine ûngcuebme Ûberraîd)uug unb
bobe îJreube, ha^ bie ©tabt ©rblettftûbt mir biefeâ b^ï^ticbe ©tiicfcben ©Ijûifer Sanb 3um
éigentum barbradjte. 'DJteinen Saut gUiubte ^cb nicbt beffer betiitigen ju ïounen, aie burd)
ben (yntfrf)ïu§, bie atte SBogeienfefte luieber in einftiger gdionbeit erftebcn gu ïafien unb bamit
etuem in ineiten J^reifeu be§ 3ieic^êtanbeê gebegten SSunii^e jur SrfiiUung gu oerbetfeu-
^eine teinte îlufgabe ift eè getoeien, ba§ gefteiïte 3ifl 3^ erreidjeu. So ntaud)e Scbtoierig:
ïeit gaït eê ju iiberiuinben "^ unb e§ beburfte beê tieïftûnbniêcoûen 3ujûmmenU)irfeu5 unb ber
treuen 53titarbeit bieler ,!(îrafte. ^n boc^berjiger SBeife baben bie gefe^gebenben Jyattoren bel
9ieid)e§ unb be§ 9îeid)§Ianbe§ fiir bie 3?creitfteUung ber nii^t unbetracbtïicben S3au!often
©orge getragen unb baburcb bie Suri^fiibrung beê '■^.Uaneâ in jeiner gro^artigen ©eftaltung
ermogltd)t. 'OJceiuen rtarmften Saut bafiir an biejer ©telle au§3uipred)en, ift mir f)erjenê=
bebiirfutê. ^c^ gebente bantbar, ^nx ^Jtinifter, '^i^xt^ ïsorgiingeri, njelc^er mid) burd^
Seituug ■ ber ic^rtierigen ^auaufiibrung tatîrSftig - unterftiiljt bat, unb banfe ^b"^"' i'ûé
©ie ba§ 2Bert fortgefe^t baben. ^c^ bonté ferner bem geniaïen ?lrd)itetten ", ber nad)
reiflid)em ©tubium be§ Ouellcu= uub llrîunbenmaterialg bû§ ÏBerî Dorbereitet unb in
ftrenger îtnïebuung an bie ÎBorbilber atter 3eit Uollenbet bat, joluie ben iibrigeu .Riinftleru,
5Jteiftern unb .Sja"'^*"'^''-"^^'-"" t"i-' 'b^'e treue ^Jcitarbeit. "^6) banîe enblid) ben beteiligten
Sebi3rben unb 'Jlri^iiitierrtaXtungen, bem |)i3bîouig§burg=3>erein, bem SÀereiu fiir lotbringtf(^e
6ef(^td)te unb îtltcrtumytunbe '", ber SBereinigung gur ©rbaïtuug bcutfcber Surgeu, ber
Sirettion be§ ^Berner 'DJtufeumë, toie jebem Sinjelnen, inëbefonbere |)errn D. @et)miitler, ber
fein ^ntereffe au bem SBerte burd) ôerbeifdjaffen Don 23aufteinen betiitigt obcr ju bem
©elingen be§ bf^utigcn fcbonen gefteê beigetragen bot.
1. iiiaui;uration. — 2. iloané en gage. — 3. ^ua, = corlège. — 4. hérauts. — 5. cava-
liers. — 6. vaiucre. — 7. en dirigeaut. — 8. activemeut. — 9. §erï SSobo ©bbarbt. —
10. archéologie.
[97] ALLBK. 17
130 DEUTSCHER TEIL '770]
SSetecfjtigtcr Stotj unb freubige ©cnugtuung erfûllt un§ aile angeficfitê be§ noUenbeten
S3aiie§. 3luf ben îtiimmern unb §unbamenteu uergangenet- 3aï)ïf)unberte eïïi(^tet, Bietet bie
§oï|fônig§(iurg in iîirer ietjigen ©eftalt — iolueit mcnfc^lirf}e§ .Sonnen e§ oetmocfjt — ein
getreueê Siïb bcr SBergangcntiett, raie fie um boâ ^aijx l.idO fiier ÏBirftic^îeit getocien fein
toiïb. 3)ie neugeîcfjaffenen SfSume bilben eine raiirbige ®tatte fiit eine ©ammïung bon
fulturf)iftorii(^en elîdffifc^en gïinnerungen aller 'îlrt unb fiir ein îtr^ic tion Iltfunben unb
©djriftftiicïen ûu§ ber éergangenlieit ber ^urg unb beë 9îeic()ëïonbeë. S;ie îiifinen 3lnïagen
ber aSau= unb Sîerteibigungêfunft, raie fie un§ "^ier raieber Dor Slugen gefûl^rt raerben,
crregen unfere Colle Seraunbetung unb in bicfer Unigebung tônnen rait un» in ©ebanten
ïeii^t in bie 3eiten mittelalterlid)et- 9îitteï'^evrlic^îeit juïiidEDerfe^en. ÏBir gïauben {eue
tru^igen ©eftaïten ber 9{itter in fcf)raerer ©ifenriiftung unb il^rer fomvferprot'ten 5)îannen
unb aîeifige ju fe^en, raie fie mit 5lrmï)ruft, l'ange unb ,s;ielleï)arbe, mit gêner unb (S(i)raert
um ben 23efit3 ber SBurg gefiim^jft unb geftritten ï)aben. ^Jlanc^' ebteê Slut ift ï)ier gefloffen,
manc^' ïctjter ©eufjer im finftern SSurgtierliefe " t)erf)aïït, aber auc^ manc^' ï)eifeer S:anf
gegoût bon igebrangten '-' unb 3.NerfoIgten fiir ritterlid^ gerao'^rtcn Sdju^.
3m SBec^fel ber 3eiten unb be§ ^riegigïiicfê i}at ber SSefitî ber a?urg mannigfad^e SBanb^
ïungen burd)gemaiï)t. 2;ie ©efc^id^te nennt un§ eine gange SRei^e bon 9îamen au§ g-rlaud^ten "
giirftentiaufern unb eblen ©efdfitedjtern aie Êigentiimer, •îjsfanbbefi^er ober l'etjenètrager '■ :
juBorberft bie ^aifer au§ bem Çiaufe .|)o^enftaufen unb bem S^an\e .s^iabâburg, bann bie
.foerjoge non gof^ringen unb Unterelfaç, bie î'anbgrafcn Don 2Berb, bie \ierren Don
SfJattifam'^auien, non Cttingen unb non SBercf:^eim, bie ©rafen non îfjierftein, beven grofear=
tiger SBau nun raieber erftanben ift, bie ïTiittcr non ©icfingen, beren ©injug in bie 58urg
une l)eute fo trefflicl) norgcfiil)rt ift, unb bie fvrciljerrcn n. iSollraeiler unb guggcr. 'Jîun ift
bie 33urg raieber gigcntum be§ beutfc^en ,fiaifer§ gemorben unb rairb e§ — raill'§ ®ott —
oui^ immer bicibcn. 2)6-3 3um 3ei(ï)en foU neben bem iUappen Siax\§ V. mciu îaiferlidjci
SBoppen l^ier am .fiaupttorc virangen.
I3;ie ■Spiillc fcillt.)
5Jlbge bie §of)tbnig§burg '^ier im SSeften beë 9îeicf)c§ Inie bie 'iJlarienburg im Cften aie ein
2&al}r3eid)en beutfrfjer .ftultur unb 'Mad)t bi§ in bie fernften 3eiten erf)alten bleibcn unb
allen ben Xaufenben unb ^Ibertaufenben, bie nac^ une gu biefem ^aiferfilj l)crauf}jilgern ' ■
in pietatnoUem ï)Uicfblic{ auf bie 9)ergangcnt)eit jur greube unb S3eïef)rung bienen ! ÎRoge
bcr 'Jtbler auf bem ftoljen iBergfricb feine Sd)raingcn ftetê ûber ein frieblicf)e§ Sanb unb ein
gliicElidjeê SSolt breitcn !
TOit foldjem ©egen§raunfcf)e crgreife id) fcicvlid) S^efilî non bcr raiebcrerftonbencn '^urg
unb forbere ben bon mir ernannten gcl)lofel)auptmann auf, feineê ^Imtcë ju raalten unb mit
biefem ©(f)liiffel ba^ îor ju bffncn.
®arauf ûberrcic^te ber ^aifcr ben ©cf)liiffel 3ur .'g)of)fDnu3ê6urg bem Staatsfcîvetdr
iîrei()evrn 3oi-'" b. SuIacE), ber burc^ ein forlicvgcgangeneë 3:elegramm 5um ®rf)Io6=
^auptmann ber SSurg unb foniglicfien ^annnerl)errit crnannt tnar. ijreiïjerr 3oï» ^^
SSuIûcfi offuete baè îor, liiovauf ber feicviidje (Sin^ng cvfolgte.
11. oubliettes. — 12. opprimés. — 13. éiiiinentes. — 14. vassaux. — 15. vienneut on
pèlerinage.
Hamburger Momentbilder.
II. — Die Hamburger Stadtmusikanten.
Die Brenier StaïUniiisikanlen sind miinniglich' ans deni schonen Milrchen
bekannt. Mit ihren Hamburger Kollegen ist das weniger der Fall. Und doch
hat sie schon der eine oder der andere Reisende staunend gesehen, schau-
dernd^ gehôrt und hat den Kopf geschiitlelt iiber das Unikiim, das so gar nicht
in das SlraÊenbild einer Weltstadt — iind das ist Hamburg, weniger durch
seine EInwohnerzahl, als vielmehr dui-ch seinen Handel und don Tou-
ristenstrom, der es beriihrt — ^passen will.
1. vielfach. — 2. arec un frisson.
[771^ DEUTSCHER TEIL 131
Mitten im Weltsltidtgetriebe, das so betaubend iind doch aiich so angenehm
nervenkiizelnd berùhrt, beim Surren der Strafienbahn, beim Tofftôft" der
Kraftwayen ■', wenn die Réflexe der eb^ktrischen Lampen sich auf deiri
Stral^enpflaster spiegeln, wenn die ele^anten Damen mit seideraschelnden
Jupons sich vor den verfiibrerisclien Schaufenstern drangen, dann klingen
aus irgend einer relativ stillen Seitenstrafie Tône einer Blechmnsik, die Stein'
ervveichen, iMenscben rasend niachen kanii. Drei, vier Miinner sind es, die
ihre Instrumente traktieren, und an einer anderen Stelle der reichen und,
ach, so leiehtsinnigen Stadt noch so ein Hâuflein — der Rest einer einst
bliilienden Zunft*: der Stralienmusikanten, die noch vor 10,15 Jabren zum
alltiiglichen Strafienbikl Haniburgs gehôrten.
Am Tage meikt man nichts von ihnen, da gelien sie noch einer anderen
Beschaftigung nach — oder huldigen sie deni dolce farniente? — Doch
so wie die erste elektrische Flamme aiifblitzt und der Straf^enlarm etwas
abebbt =, sind sie da znr Freude der Kinder, die sich im Reigen drehen, und
auf die Kontirmation ^ lossteuernder Schuljungen. Einer der Musikanten
aber sammelt bei den Ladenbesitzern und Bewolinern der Erdgescbosse.
Der Sénat erteilt keine neuen Konzessionen zum StraÊenmusizieren, die
alten Konzessionare sterben nach und nach, so daft jetzt nur noch aclit bis
zehn vorlianden sind, und bald wird auch dem letzten die Trompeté aus der
starren Hand gleiten. Und Hamburg wird dann um ein, im 20. Jahrhundert
ja archaistisch wirkendes, aber trotzdem reizvoUes und originelles Stiick
Strafienlebens armer sein.
(Fortsctzung folyt.)
Rudolf Braune-RoI^la.
3. automobiles. — 4. corporation. — 5. diminue. — 6. proriiére communion,
confirmation.
^oxn @rimmfcl)ctt 2!8dvtcvbucl).
@ê finb ie|t 55 ^aïire l)er, ha^ bte erfte Cieferung' beê ©rimmic^en SBortettuK^eê
an§ Sic^t trot, ©iuein ciuBeren StnIaB- ^aben loir ha^j monumentale ïôerï ,]ur)erbanfeu.
2tlê bie Sviiber ©rtmm il)rer 5lmter-^ in ©bttingen entfe^t luurben, irieil [ie fief) manu=
^ûft lueigerten '*, ben icf)mdf)liiï)en ,i>erfaifung5bnicf; ■' Svnft Shtguftê Don §annouer
gutjufieiBen, fragte eine grofee SerIag5Cnt(ï)f)anblung bei i()nen an, ob fie fid^ ntt^t
entfc^IieBen ïonnten, ifire unfreiiinûige 931uBe aiië^ufûden'' unb ein neue§, gvofeeâ
SBorterbucb ber beutf(^en 8prac^e ab^ufaifen. Dîacf) ïur3em Sd^toanïen fagten fie ju.
S)te 33rûber oevteiïten bie ^Irbett in ber SSeife unter ]x6), bafe jeber Don ifjnen
beftimmte 23ucl)ftaben iibernabm; 2Bi(f)elm ïonnte nocf) ba^j D ooUenben, .^aïob arbeitete
A, B, C, E auô unb forberte baê F noi^ biê ju bem ÏÛorte ,,(yru(^t". Dîad; feinem
:3;obe (18G3) fe^ten 9îubolf ^iïbebranb unb ^arl Sûeiganb, bie fc^on oor^er {)ilfreid)e
Sienfte geïeiftet {)atten, ha^j SGerï fort, unb namentït(^ f)ilbebranb, bem K unb G
gugefaden luaren, lieferte in langfamer, bocf) ftetiger unb bingebungéHoller' 9trbeit
5trtifel non erftaunlicbem 9îei(^tum unb uniibertrefflidjer ©enauigfeit : bie SarfteKung
beâ SJSorteê ,,©eift" ,5um Seifpiel, bie iiber :^unbert enggebrucîte ©palten^ fitllt, ift ha^
SJhtfter einer ÏÔortmonograpbie. Slber mitten in ber 3lrbeit am G, ha^ burd) bie
unenblitï) jo^Ireid^en 3^1 '■^"^'"^"î^ ^ungen ^ mit ber ^^artiïel ge= einer ber fd^loierigften
Sud^ftaben ift, entrang ber S^ob ibm bie ^yeber.
Ste 93olIenbung bes G t)at ber ^iefige "^ 2?ibïiotf)efar .s>rmann 933unberli($ iiber-
1. livraison. — 2. cause. — 3. fonntions. — 4. refusèrent. — 5. violation de la consti-
tution. — 6. occuper leurs loisirs. — 7. dévoué. — S. colonnes. — 9. mots composés. —
10. bon t)icv (58erltnh
132 DEDTSCHER TEIL ['^'^2]
nommcn, ber fief) biircf) feine UiertuoUen 93ûcf)er û6er bie ,,2:eutf(f}c llmgangëipractje''"
unb ben ,,®eittjcf)en Sa^bau" einen angeiefjenen Dîomen geiuac^t £)at. 'Jîeïien .«pttbebranb
itiar ber bor fiirjem nerftorbene (Sottimjer !}Jrofeffor DJÎori^ §el)ne titcr,iig 3af)re Uing
ber eifricjfte DJlitardeiter ant ©riminfc^en 2Sorter6u($. ^i)m unb einer ïleinen B<S)ax
gef exulter ôilfêtrdfte '- f)aben inir eô tm toefentlicfieu 311 lierbanfen, ba^ haï 9Berf
nunme^r 6i§ 311 ben mit St beginnenben SBortern gebie^en ift. 3'i^ô^f ftûtfe SSanbe
liegen jetit tior, aber ee b(ei6t nod^ ein guteê ©tiicî Slrbeit 3U letften. 2aê îenuio, in
bem bie ein3etnen Sieferungen erfc^ienen, ift Don ^af^r 3U Sa()r gemiic^tidier geiuorben.
©oU fief) ber 3tbfc^IuJ5 beô ÏÏJerfeâ nic^t noc^ 3af)r3ef)nte f)tnbiircf) ner3ogern, fo muB
ûuf eine neue Crganifation gebrungen Uierben'^, bie burcf) energifcfie'j 3"3''-"fiî^" ^i^i^
rafi^ere ^Qoiïenbnng geffiQf)rîciftet'% ®a3U ift Dor atlem ©elb notig.
3)aè ©rimmfcEie SSorterbuc^ ift ein nationateê 2Berî erften Otangeê. ga tuitlnii^t, une
bûâ fran3bfifc^e ,, Dictionnaire de l'Académie", bie ©^vod^e ein: fïir attemal
beftimmen unb feftlcgen'". ®ê n^itlben bentfrf)en 20ortf($a| ber leljten iner 3afirf)unberte
in feine ©c^euern bergen unb bamit nic^t nur (Selef)rten, fonbern ,,allen Seuten" bienen
unb ,,im ebeiften ©inné praftifc^" fein. S)er ©efamtf)eit hd 3}oIïeê rief ^ûïob
©rimm am ©tfiluffe feiner îjerrlic^en 23orrebe'^ 3um erften SBanbe beê 2B5rterbu(ï)eê alâ
einbringtid^e SJla^nung bie ÏÛorte 3U : ,,S)cutf(^e geliebte Sanbêteute, icelcfieê SReid^eê,
nielc^eS ©laubené if)r feib, tretet ein in bie eu^ atlen Qufgetane Çatle eurer angeftamm=
ten, uralten ©pracî)e, (eruet unb ^eiliget fie unb ^altet an i^r, eure '-i)olfëtraft unb
Sauer t)angt in if)r ! "
[Berliner Tatjeblatt.) §. !)Jl.
11. langue courante. — 12. auxiliaires éruHits. — 13. il faut insister en vue. — 14. ga-
rantisse. — 15. S)a§ ^at bie franjôfifc^e "Jttabemic nie ieanfprud^cn f onnen ! — 16. préface.
^l^crmifditc 92adiri(f)tcit.
^ïara {Çreifrau u. @icf)enborff, ©c^iinegertodjter beë Sid^terê, ift, 82 ^a^xt att, in
53onn Derftorben. '^^x ©atte, ber preufeifctie ©e^eime iRegierungêrat* §ermann n.
®id^enborff, beê Siii)teré dtterer ©o^n, ging i()r acf)t 3af)re im îobe noranf. 25on
ii^ren -Rinbern finb 3Uici ©o()nc Cffi3iere, eine ïoi^ter .KouDentualin- ber 33enebiftineî
rinnenabtei ^ Çrûiienuiortï).
«
• *
iKoojcuclto îod)tct a(é ^ofomotiufiilircrhi.
2;ie 9îeifenbcn ber ©ifenbabniinie 3ltlanta=©eorgia, bie auf ben ^erron^ ber SBat^iu
f)ofe iljren 3iig eruiarteten, n)urben flir3li(ï) nidjt icenig ûberrafrf)t, aie fie mit grofecr
©dfinettigïeit einen ©^trajug an fid^ Oorbeifaufen faï)en, beffen Soïomotitte ton einem
jungen 9JldbdE)en gcfiifirt untrbe. ®te feltfame DJlafc^iniftin luar 5)life ©t^el 9toofeiieIt,
beê '•^Jrdfibenten 3Uieite 2ocf)ter, bie mit i()rer DJtutter nacf) bem ©iiben ber iîereinigten
©taaten reifte. lUig ©tt)cl mar auf einer ©tation auê ifjrem 3Sagen gefcf)(iipft unb batte
ben ÎJÎafc^iniften gebeten, fie einmat ben ^ug fii^ren 3U laffen. Ser ^ofomotiufiibrer
batte fidf) ibren Sitten gefiigt, unb siuei ©tunben tang tieg nun bie rei3enbe ^rafiben^
tentocbter ben 3ug mit einer ©ef(ï)Unnbigîeit oon 80 iîilometer in ber Stunbe
babinfliegen, toobei fie fid^ fo gefcbictt benabmS aie luenn fie feit langem fc[)on auf einer
SoîomotiDe ^eimift^-' icdre, unb befonberé bie ^feifenfignate rccf)t oft unb aucgiebig®
ertoneu tief^. 2ie -Ruruen" naf)m fie mit einer folc^en ©d[)netligfeit, baB fid^ bie
^affagiere freucn fonnen, mit bem Ceben baiion gefommen 3U fein.
1. conseiller intime de gouvernement. — 2. conventuelle. — 3. abbaye des Bénédictines.
— 4. comporta. — 5. ju §aufe. — 6. généreusement. — 7. courbes.
[773] DEDTSCHER TEIL 1.3;)
2l'^rt(^(ic^♦
1. 3lrm in 3lrm unb ,^ron' an -Sfone fie^t ber @ic^enlua(b uerfdjtuiujen
."peut f)nt eu bel cjiiter Saune mir fein alteô 8teb gefnngen.
:2. gei-'n am 9îanbe fing ein junge^j 93aumc()eu an ]irf) fadjt ju luicigcn,
Unb banu tging eâ immer inciter an ein Saufen, an ein ^tegen ;
;i. .Uam eâ fier in mdc^t'gcm ;^uge, ]rf)UioIl eâ an ^yi Bveiten ïi}ogcn,
^od) fief) bnrcf) bie ÏOipfel ludf^enb tam bie Sturmeêflut gcjogen.
-4. Unb nun fang unb pfiff ey grau(id) iii beu .Ûronen, in ben !s2iiften,
Unb ba,')tinfrf)eu fnarrt' unb brot)nt' eâ unten in ben SBur^elgriitteu.
o. 3Jland)mal fd)U3ang bie t)bd)fte (f td)e geilenb itn'tMi Sdjaft ' alieiue ;
Xonnernber erfc^od nur imnier brauf ber (slior nom gan.^en -ôainc !
6. (s-iner tuilben llteereobranbung t)at baâ fd)i3ne Spiel geglidieu ;
2ï(Ieô Saub uiar mei^lid) fd)immernb nad) '^torboften t)inge[trid)en.
7. 2lIfo ftreid]t bie a(te ©eige ^an', ber ?llte, (aut unb leife,
Unterrici)tenb feine 2Bdlber in ber atten ÏGe(tenu)ei)e.
8. ^n ben fieben Slonen fd)lDeift er nnerfd)bpflicf) auf uub uieber,
^n ben fieben alten ïbnen, bie nmfaffen aile Sicber.
9. Unb eê ïaufd)en ftiti bie jungcn Xic^ter unb bie jungen [yinfeu,
^aucrnb in ben bnnfeln 23iifd)LMi fie bie l1îe(obieen trinfen.
©ottfrieb ^cUer.
1. fût. — 2. le dieu Pan.
Goethe*.
II
Es machtfiir die Kraft eines Aiisspriichs gai* vicl ans, ob eiii Mann
dalîinter steht oder nicht. In der gelelirten Zeitschrift, in der eintlnl^rei-
chen Tageszeitung nehme ich keiiie bestimnite Form wahr, sondern nur
eine Art von unverantwortlicheni Schalten, l)auliger noch eine Geldkoi'-
poration oder irgend einen Zieratfen, der hinter der Maske und in deni
Mantel seines Zeitnngsartikels fiir einen Jemand gehalten zu werden
holï't. Aber in einem rechten Buch, da blicken wir ans jedem Satz,aiis
jedem Abscbnitt die Angen eines ganz bestimniten Mannes entgegen :
seine Kraft und sein Sclirecken iiberstrômen jedes Wort, Kommata und
Gedankenstriche sind lebendig, so daft sein Bucb athletisch und beweg-
licb ist, weit wandern und lange leben kann.
In England und Amerika kann jemand ein tûcbtiger Kenner der Scbrif-
ten eines griecbischen oder lateiniscben Dichters sein, obneselber poeti-
schen Geschmack oder dicbteriscbes Feuer zu besitzen. Daft jemand
sich jahrelang mit Plato oder Proclos beschiiftigt, beweist noch keines-
wegs, daft er sich mit heroischen Gesinnungen Lragt oder die Tagesmode
* Siehe die vier andern Telle.
134 DEUTSCHER TEIL 1774'
seiner Stadt i-erini^schàtzt. Aber die DeiUschen gehen mit oineni hochst
komischen Ernst an dièse Sachen heran : der Student brûtet auch
auf^erhalb des Lelirsaals noch ùber dem gehorten Yortrag ; und der
Professer vermagsich nicht von der Yorstelliing frei zu machen, dal'^ die
AVahrheiten der Philosophie irgend eine Beziehung zu Berlin und Mûn-
chen haben. Dieser Ernst gibt ihnen einen weitern Blick als Lente
von viel grôAerem Talent ihn haben. Daher sind fast aile wertvollen,
bei uns in ernsthaftern Gespriichen gebràuchlichen Delinitionen ans
Deutschland zu uns gekommen.
Emerson.
{Forlselzioig folgl.)
Wodan oder Odin*.
Lautes, frohliches Treibeii' herrscht in Wodans Saal : da sitzen mit den
Gôttern vereiut an langen Tafehi in heiterem Gespràche die Einherier.
Weifiarmige Jnngfranen, die Walkiiren, kredenzen - ihnen in goldeuen
Schalen und groAen Hôrnern feurigen Met^ und schiiumendes Bier. Ein
gesottener'* Eber wird tagtagiich ziu' Speise aufgetragen : doch mag auch
noch so viel von seinem Fleische abgeschnitten werden, aliabendlich ist
er wieder heil und unversehrt". So feiern die Helden Tag fur Tag
frohliches Gelage'"'. Jeden Morgen wecktsie Hahnenschrei; dann wappnen^
sie sich, eilen in den Hof und streiten mit einander in heldenhaftem
Speer- und Schwertkampf : das ist ihre Kurz\veil^ \venn sie nicht zechen.
Der Helden liebstes Spiel ist aiso eine Ibrtwàhrende Kampfûbung; denn
einst wird Odin ihrer Hilfe bedûrfen, wenn den Gôttern der letzteKampf
herannaht gegen Hiesen und Untiere^ Dann wird Odin selbst in gold-
glànzender Brûnne'", mitgoldenem Helmegeschmiickt,auf seineui grauen
Hengste", der acht Fi'ibe hat und aile Rosse im Himmel und auf Erden an
Grôfie und Schnelligkeit weit iibertritlt. an der Spitze der Asen und
Einherier zum Kampfe ausreiten, seineu gewaltigen Speer schwingend,
welcheralle Feinde dem Tode weiht'-, iiber die er hintliegt. Darnm ist es
Odins Wille, daft Kampfgetôse und Schlachtruf nie verstummen " auf
Erden, damit aile die tapfersten Kâmpen'S auf der Walstatt gefiillt, die
Schar seiner « Schrcckenskàmpfer )- verslarken. Darum sendet er tàglich
die Walkiiren ans, die dem Tode geweihten Helden vom Schlaclitfelde
hinauf nach Walhall zu fiihren. Am Tore empfiingt der Schlachtenlenker
selbst die gefalleneu Helden, làfit ihnen von strahlend schôner Walkùre
den Willkommtrunk reichen und nimmt sie auf in die Schar seiner
Getreuen.
Die Hofinuug auf Walhalls Freuden lieft die deutschen Miinuer den
Tod verachten; kampfesfroh stûrzten sie nnaufhaltsam'Mn die dichtesten
Scharen der Feinde, heiteren Mutes, wie zu festlichem Spiel ; jeder
Ausgang war dem Tapferen willkommen ; verlieh Wodan ihm Sieg, so
* Siehe Numraeru 1, 2, 12 uod 16.
1. (uiimalion. — 2. bieleQ...an. — 3. hydromel. — 4. bouilli, — 'à. intocl. —
(i. banquet. — 1. s'arment. - 8. divertissement . — 9. monstres. — 10. Harmsch. —
11. étalon. — 12. voue. — 13. se taisent. — 14. cliampions. — lo. irrésiatiblemenl.
775J DECTSCHER TEIL 135
kehite er, reicli an Ehren imd }3eute, lieim ; iiel er, so sali ei- breclienden
Auges Walkùren auf ihren liclilen Kossen hoch ans den Liïlten hernie-
derschweben, um ihn zu Walhalls Wonnen zu geleiten. .la, der deutsche
Held sehnt sich nach keinem andern Todealsdem auf dein Schlachtfelde.
Der (( Slrohtod », derTod auf deui Krankenlagei-, scheint ihm venichtlich,
scheint ilim fast eine Strafe der Gotter ; demi wer den Strohtod stirbt,
dessen Seele wandert hiiiab ins Nebelreich zur finsteren ïodesgôttin Hel.
Darum ritzen sich die Kànipen, denen des Schicksals Ungunstden eliren-
vollen Tod auf dem Schlachtfelde versagt'" hat, noch in der Sterbestunde
selbst Wundeu mit dem Speer; so hoffen sie nicht als solche angesehen
zu werden, die den Strohtod gestorben sind, sondern als durch die
Speerritzung Wodan Geweihte in Walhall aufgenommen zu werden.
DaA des Schlachtengottes stete Genossen die Raben sind, die auf seinen
Schultern sich niederlassen, und die Wôlfe, die er fûttert, erkliirt sich
von selbst : es sind dieselben Tiere, die beutegierig das Schlachtfeld
heimsuchen und die Leichen der Gefallenen fressen.
Als Gott des Geistes aber ist Wodan kein Beschûtzer roher Tapferkeit,
sondern selbst der Erfmder der Kriegskunst. Seiue Lieblinge unter den
Helden lehrt er die von ihm selbst erfundene keilfôrmige '^ Schlacht-
ordnung, die ihnen den Sieg iiber die rohe Tapferkeit des Feindes
sichert. So z. B. seinen Schûtziing Harald Hildetand (Kriegszahn), den
Diinenkôuig. Dieser weihte ihm, wie er zu tun pflegte, vor dem Kriege
gegen den Schvvedeiikônig Ingo die Seelen derer, die im Kampfe fallen
wiirden. Da trat kurz vor der Schiacht eiii Greis, hochragenden Wuchses,
einiiugig, zu ihm, lehrte ihn die Kriegskunst und zeigte ihm, wie er seine
Scharen keilfôrmig ordnen sollte. Mit Hilfe dieser Lehren besiegte Harald
den Ingo.
Sieg in der Schiacht ist liberhaupt stets ein Geschenk Wodans. Aul
eigentiimliche Weise gelangten die Winiler einer alten Sage nach zum
Siège ùber die Vandalen und zu ihrem spàteren Namen Langobarden.
Als eine Schiacht zvvischen beiden Vulkern bevorstand, riefen die
Vandalen den Wodan um Sieg an, die Winiler wandten sich an Frigga,
seine Gemahlin.Als Frigga bei Wodan fiirdie Winiler Fiirbitte einlegte*%
erklarte er dem Heere den Sieg verleihen zu wollen, das er am niichsten
Morgen beim Erwachen zuerst erblicken werde. Listig setzte er voraus,
daft dies die Vandalen sein wûrden, da das Kopfende seines Bettes ihnen
zugekehrt war, Doch Frigga riet den Winilern, sie sollten sich vor Son-
nenaufgang in Schiachtordnung aufstellen, die Weiber voran : dièse
sollten ihre langen Haare wie einen Bartum dasKinn schlingen. Ehenun
Wodan erwachte, drehte Frigga unvermerkt sein Bett um, so dafi er beim
Erwachen zum entgegengesetzten Himmelsfenster hinausblickte, gerade
auf die Winiler und ihre Weiber. Erstaunt fragte er: « Was sind das fur
Langbarte ? » Schnell versetzte Frigga: «Die Winiler sind es; du hast
ihnen einen neuen Namen gegeben, so gib ihnen auch als JNamens-
geschenk den Sieg. » (Nach altgermanischer Sitte des Patengeschenkes.)
Da ladite Wodan iiber seines Weibes List und verlieh den Winilern den
Sieg. Von da an aber hiefien sie Langobarden.
{Forlsctzuntj folgi.)
Nach Langk.
16. rej'usé. — 17. en forme de coin. — IS. intercéda.
136 DEDTSCHER TEIL [776]
Se^U 26ortc (jcriiljmtcr 'i^v^te,
(S§ gibt, Une mait Uiet|3, cine çian.^e, bcinal^e îlaffifcE) geinorbene Sammlung
t)on „let!ten 2Borten", bie beruï)mte lltdmier tiirj nor il)rcm ^^obe tjefprorfien
ï)aben ober t]cfpri.ui)en baben jolleu. ^eber bat einmal geïefcn, ba|3 5îiujuftuâ
in ber ©terbeftnnbc t)oU -^Uitljoci nucnjcrufen bobe : „®ie i\ombbie ift jn Snbe
— bnbe icï) meine 9îoIIe gut gefpieït ?" 3Md)t ineniger interefjant ift einc nom
„53ritiit) 9Jiebica( .^tonmal" jiifammengefteUte ©amminng non Jet^ten 3Bortcn"
Betiibmter -ytrjte, nlfu foti^er 3.1{annei-, bie mit bem 21obe fo^nfagcn anf bn nnb
bu ' [tanben. §a(Ier [tarb mit ben ïi^orten : „®ie 3lrterie fd^Itigt... bie 5lrterie
|d)ldgt nod)... bie ^Irterie fd)lagt nid)t met)r." 9iotf)nûgeI noticrte in fcinen
ïe^ten 5ïngenblicfen bie (Sl)mptome feiner ^i-nnî()eit : „®efd)rieben in ber
9îad)t 5um (i. ^l'ti "flt^ einem fel)r beftigen 5lnfatt Don „angina pectoris"...
id)U)erbe an 5lrtericnt)erfûUiing fterben." (Sooper, ^rigl)t nnb ^robie ftarben
mit ©egenênninfi^cn nnf ben ^^ippen. S)aninn fûb bem ^obe tilbn in§ ?lnge
nnb [agte im ©terben : „^5d) babe miillid) îeine {yiirdjt nor bem "Sobc." Xer
^Itiûtom §nnter ftarb beiter ldd)elnb nnb fagte : „2Bieniel fd)bne 9hibcn Unirbe
id) nod) fdjreiben, menn ic^ nnr bie {yeber batten ïonntel" S^er Gbii'nrg
©olboni (^itterte ikiu bem Xobe ; al§ ber îlrjt, ber bei i^m tnar, ifin fragte, ob
er rnbig fci, ertviberte er : „Ql) nein, im ©egentciï !" Snuier erfannte nod) im
5lobe bie 2]erbicn[te feiner ^xollegen an. 3Uê er fab, luie bie ^i^flcr feiner
§anbe fic^ gegen feincn SBilten auf ber 3?ettbede trampfbaft friimmten, fagte
er : „93e(l biit red)t ; bie SBillenêneroen finb gcldbnit I" îsîocolj ftarb mit einem
W\U anf hen Sippen ; er fagte ju ben ^tr^ten, bie ibn bebanbelten : „?luf
2Bieberfeben, meine i^erren, bei meiner 3lntopfie !"
1 . à lu et à toi.
^aê îv»'f»»ï'>*^*'«*t w»tï> ï>»c ZAntU.
®ie „-Uatbolifdje Si^nl^eitung" fiir 3torbbentfd)lanb er^tibït eine bi'bfdje
@efd)id)te bauon, Uiao flir Unbeil' bie ^yi^'enibiubuter anric^ten- tbnnen. :ju eiuer
tjbberen ©c^nïe umrbcn uor turjem bie Sc^iiïer bnrd) 9(ngenar,^te nnterfnc^t.
®arauf gab ber Xireîtor einem Schiller foïgenbeu 23rief an feinen 23ater mit :
„2Bcrtcr ."perr! Sie btnte angcftcllte llntcr)iid)ung bat ergeben, ba^ :^\\)x ^•liU
ftart 5nr 9Jîi)opie neigt^ 5ie muffen etunio in ber 3ad)e tun." — 5lm ndd)ften
ïDîorgen brad)te gril^ bem Sireîtor folgenbcn 5(ntmortbrief beS '-Initero :
„2ôerter §err S)ireîtor ! i^eften Sant fiir ^[)ïc 'Jîad)rid)t. ^âj i)aiu meincm
'ooï)ne cine geljbrige 2^rad)t ^riigel* jnteit luerben ïaffen, nnb id) boffe, er unrb
e§ nid)t tî)ieber tun. Sotlte er bennod) firb uncber etma§ ,^ufd)nlben fommen
laffeu, fo bitte id) nm giitige lltitteiluug." Xer Xircttor mirb t)o|feutlid)'' nie
mebr „lHl)opie" ftatt Jhirjfiditigfeit" fd)reiben.
1. mal. — 2. causer. — 3. a uue fotte teudauce à. — 4. volée de coups. — 5. e<i)érous-le.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 18. 20 Juin 1908. 8° Année.
DEUTSCHER TEIL
%^rafîï>cttt g^rtUièrcê in eitôUtiiï».
Ser ^rafibent ber franâoiifcïien 9lepu6Iiï JaEièreé in 53egleitung beê 9JUnifter&
^id^on ift am 25. 9Jlat nac^mittag gegcn 1 )^ Uf)r an 93orb beë ^^an3erfreu3erâ ,,Séon
(Sambetta" unter bem ©alut bev britifd^en ,Krieg5fd^tffe im §afen non Sîoner einge^
tvoffen. 9lQiï)bem \\^ bie Stbmirdie unb .^apitdne ber {iritiicfjen .Kana(=5(otte 6ei i{)m
gemelbet :^atten', begab er ']\6) an 8anb, mo er nom ^rin3eu 3(rtl)ur uon 6onnaugl}t,
bem franjoiifc^en Sotfc^aftev- unb ben ûbrigen DDUtgliebern ber Sotfc^aft OegriiBt
iDurbe. Êine ,^or|3oration tjon ®ober mit bem 5!Jlai)or an ber (Spi^e iiberreic^te i^m
f)ier eine 3tbreffe, in ber ber 2Qunf(| nad) einer bauernben O^reunbfc^aft Beiber Scinber
auêgebriicft inirb. (Seïeitet Oon einer ^aimiïerieeêforte unb begteitet Dom '^Prinjen Don
(vonnaug£)t, ôegab fitf) ber '^U-cifibent mit ©efolge, bem jid^ Cberftleutnant Comtfjer unb
.^ommanbant .'r)eaton=(ïIiaê 3um perfonlic^en Sienfle angefcfjloffen î^atten, ju 28agen
nad^ ber ®ot)er4^riorç=Station, um nac^ fionbon tt)eiter3ureifen. ®ie 3tnïunft in
Sonbon erfotgte nac^mittag um 4 y^ U^r. 2tuf bem 93a^n^ofe ttiaren 3u feinem
gmpfange erf(f)ienen ^onig ©buarb, ber îprin3 Don 2Baïe§, ^rin3 (vt)riftian Don
©d^Ieênng=.'pDlftein, bie .^perjoge Don 3(rgi)tt unb O^ife fotine eine 5tn3aI)I Don 9JlitgIie=
bern beê .fiabinettâ.
3)ie SegriiBung ber beiben Staatêoberbaupter icar febr i)txi\\sii, îîacf) gegenfeitiger
JBorftetïung ber Segleituug geleitete ber garl of ©ranarb ben ^rafibenten noc^ einer
©taatêïaroffe, in ber aud^ ber ^onig, ber ^rin3 Don 203aleê unb ber 5prin3 Don ®on=
naugl)t ^la^ naf)men. Sann erfolgte bie Stbïafirt tiber ben ©roêDenorpta^, ^^iccabiHij
unb St. 3ameë=®traèe nacf) bem ©t. Same^^alaft. Sie Sêforte ^aiit bie Seibgarbe
geftettt.
Spiiter begaben fii^ ^rcifibent O^allières unb ïïUnifter ^U(^on Don ®t. 3awteë=îPûIaft
nac^ bem S3ucfing'^am=^alaft, um bem^onig unb ber ^onigin einen 93efuc^ ab3uftatten.
58ei ber 3lnïunft im SBucïingbam^^aïaft tourbe ^h-âfibent (^atlirreë 3um ^onige
geteitet, ber if)n toarm begriifete unb ber ^onigin unb ber 'ij}rin3eii"in i^iïtoria Dorftedte.
9îac^ bem îee begab fief) ber î^rdiibent nac^ bem 3[)tarIboroug^=!PaIaft jum 2îefud) beê
■iprinsen unb ber ^rin3ejfin Don 2ôaleê, bie i^m i^re .iîinber DorfteKten. Surc^ biefe
Stufmerffamfeit loar ber ^Çrafibent fel^r geriil^rt.
yiaé) feinem SSefutf) im ïllariborougf) f)oufe begab fi(ï) ber ^rdfibent ioieber nac^
ber Diefiben3 beG ,$îonig§, bem a3ucïiugbam=^alait.
Sort fanb ibm 3U ©bren ein tyeftmaf)! ftatt, bei bem auc^ ber 'l.^rin3 unb bie î|}rin=
3effin 3U SBaleê 3ugegen3 uiaren. Ser ^^rnfibent f)atte feinen îptalj 3Unf(ï|en bem ^bnig
unb ber ^5nigin.
25ei bem DJta^Ie murben Dom ^ônig gbuarb unb bem 'ïprafibeuten Srinffpriic^e auê=
gebracfit ; in beiben tourbe mit grofeer 2Barme unb ftarfer SSetonung ber Sefuc^ aU eine
SSeïunbung* ber Entente cordiale geïenn3ei(^net, in beiben bie .f^offnung anf ibre
1. se furent présenléâ à lui. — 2. ambassadeur. — 3. jirésents. — 4. manifestaticn.
[103] ALLIM. 18
138 DEUTSCHER TEIL [818]
fiiuftige Sauer uub bev .s^iituieis auf il)ve S^ebeittunQ fiir ben O^vicbeu uiib baê ©lilcE
hn ganjen 2BeU iitd^t Dergeffen. -iîbuig Sbuarb, ber feinen îrtnïfprut^ in fran^ofifi^eï
©pradje auëbrac^te, fagte :
,,!geien Sic luiUîomnicn, ^txx $vdîibent. ®ie .ffonigiit unb ic^, lutï ftnb entjûcft, bag toit
baî SBerguugen {)a'6en, ®ie tei une ju em^jfangen, unb ba eê ba§ erfte ^Jlalift, ba^ ©te nac^
©ngtanb fommen, ï)offen hjtr ïebt)oft, ba§ Ste non 3ï)ïem, meim auà) nur tur^en 2lufent=
î)alte, eine angenefime Sïinnenmg ntttne'^men tterben. ^Jiorgeu loerben rttr, "^offe i($,
gemeiniam bie fran3ofii(i^=engUîd)e îluêfteliung fiefuc^en. S)te ©jiftena ber 5luèl'teUung toirb
niel)ï aïê jemaïê bie Entente cordiale bartun, biè jtotft^en unieren beiben Sonbein befte'^t.
S5on gonjem §er3en inïmic^c id^, bafe bie Entente cordiale auàj eine ,, Entente permanente"
ïein moge, jum &M unb 2Boï)teïge'ften ber beiben 'Otationen unb jur îlufrediteriiottung^ beê
griebenê, ber Ms, ©liiiî ber ganjen ÏBelt au§mad^t. ^à) erljebe mein ®laè auf bie ©efunbtjeit
be§ |)errn *4>rafibenten ber SJe^jublif fotoie auf ba§ ^Boïjlergefien unb bas ©liicf jjranfreid^ê,
beî Sanbeè, ba§ ic^ feit fo langer 3eit tenue unb bertuubere."
3n feiner griinberung fpvad^ ^rdftbent O^aïïtèreâ 3unad^ft feinen Sanï aus fïir ben
©lauj unb bie [yveunblid)feit beè ©mpfangeê.
©r fagte bann, Cyranïreid^ betratfjte feinen, bee '•|>riifibenteu, a^efucE» in ©nglanb unb
beè ^linigè i^aufige 33eîud)e in ^^vanfreiiïi aie eine SJcftcitigung beê ,,f)ev3licOen QiMex'
ne()menê", bas, wk er iibevjeugt fei, bie 3uïititft immer inniger geftatten luerbe jum
gemeinfamen 2Bo{)(e (Srofebritaunienê nnb 3^ranïreicf)§ unb 3ur 5tufrec§terViItung be§
t^viebeu'j in ber Sfâeït. 3"'" ©(^Uife tvauî ber 'Sprafibent an^ bie ©efunbf^eit beê ,^onig§
nnb ber fijuigliifjen [yamitie jouiie auf bie ©nttoidfelung ber bie kiben 3}oïfer Oer=
Innbenben Jrcunbfc^afi.
9tm 26. t)efud)te ^onig gbuarb mit bem '^rdfibenten bie fran3bfifc^=ï}ritifd)e 5luê=
fteUung. 5tbenb§ gab ba^ ^rinjenpaav Don SDûaïeê ein Siner 3U @^ren beê ^rcifibenten.
3tm 27. uormittag empfing 'iprdfibent O^aïïièreê int ©t. jûmeê^'ïpalaft ha^ bipIotna=
tifcf^e fîorpê unb naf)m bann eine Sluja^I Don Slbrcffen entgegen, bie oou uerfrfjiebenen
-Korporationen ii6errei(|t luurben.
5lm 9Jlittag fanb in bev ©uilb=§ati gu 6()ren beê '^.h'cifibenten ein ^rii^ftiicE ftatt, an
bem and^ bev 'Î)}vin3 nnb bie ^vin3effin non SBaleê, ^ïin3 6f)riftian Don 'Bd)Uètoï%=
Çoïftein unb ''i<vin3 3tvt^nv non (fonnaug'^t teilna'^men. 23ei feinev 3tntunft in bev
®uilb=^a(I nntrbe bev '^jtrdfibent nom 8oïb=9Jtai)ov nnb bev Sovb=5Jîai)oveB empfangen
unb in bie 23ibliot()ef geteitet, 100 eine 3tbveffe bev ©tabt Sonbou an ben ^U'iifibenten
3UV 93evïefung getangte. 3ie nimmt i8e3ug anf ben im ^aljxe 1U03 evfoïgten 5Befuc^ beê
••^^vafibenten Coubet in ®uiIb=ÇaE unb betont, bag bie ©efii'^Ie tfev^li^tx O^veunbfd^aft
3Unf(ï)en ^îvanïveid) unb gnglanb fi($ immev meï)v gefeftigt ticitten unb eine fovt=
bauevnbe S8iivgfif)af t fitr ben ?7oïtf(^vitt bev âioilifcition unb ben SBeltfrieben bilbeten.
®ie 3lbvefie fcÇiIiefet mit ben beften 2Biinfi^en fiiv baê 2Bof)Ievgeben beê "^^vdfibenten unb
fitv bie 3[ûol)Ifa()vt (îrantreiif)ê. '•)lad.) il]veï 5Bevïefung evluibevte bev ''^h-iifibent mit
2Bovtcn beê ©anîeê unb gab feinen Sôiinfc^en fiiv bie ®tabt bonbon 2ïnêbvucï.
aBd()venb beê g^viibftiicïê lued^felten ber Covb::93iajov unb ber "lircifibent 2rintfpviid^e.
Siad) einem ïoaft anf ben ^iinig unb bie iîbnigin bracÇite bev Sorb=3Dlai)or einen
3iueiten Svinïfpvud) auf ben '•^Jrafibenten g^aïlièreê auê, ben er atê ,<paupt ber gvofeen
unb befveunbeten illation, bie ber nad}fte 3iad)bav unb SBevbitnbetc ©ngtanbê fei, feievte,
@v 'i)ci1:it ©ngtanb aïê ©aft beê ,$îonigê mit feinem ffiefud) beetjvt, mit befonbevev
9îïicEfid)t nnf bie engïifd}=fvan3bfifc^e SluQfteÏÏung, bie boffentUd) juv Jovbevung bev
§anbelêbe3ier}ungen 3toifd)en ben beiben Sanbern bcitragen Uievbe.
Tiaà) biefen 3luêfiif)ïnngen evîjob fi($ ^vafibent g^aïlièveê unb evtoibevte, ev fitl)le fid^
gtitcflid), in Sonbou 3U meilen, im DJUttelpuntt etucê tlugen unb praïtifd^en o-letfjeê,
im Srennpunft « ebler unb freibeitlicbcr 3been, Uictdie bie ©rnnblagen jeben iyortfd}vittê
unb jcber 3il^ifiÛition feieu. @r fei angeueïjm beriit)vt, ba{3 bie ©rinnerung in i()m
5. maintien. — 6. fojcr.
819] DECTSCHER TEIL 139
toac^genifen icorben fci, mie in betnfelbcn ©aûle fein 33organger Souèet bie ©ittente
mit feierli(ï)en ÏÏBorten befiegeit " i^ade, bie fur bie ^ntereffcn ber beiben Jlationen fo
fegenéDoU fei, unb beren $8anbe iiâ) fcitbem nocf) nid^t gelocfert f)dtten. Sie ©emeinfam=
feit biefer 3ntf^'n"fen ï)abe numnel)r if)ren 3iuêbnicf in ciner glanjenben ShiëftcIIung
gefnnben, beren fic^ercr ©rfolg fceibe îîationen ermutigen merbc, na^ ben namlic^en
Sbeaïen : Strbeit, ©intrac^t unb o^rieben 3U ftreben. S)er 'i|.h-afibent (eerte îum Scfilng
jein ©ïaë anf haè 2Q3of)I beê Corb=93ÎQi)orô unb ber Stabt Sonbon.
%m %btnb gû6 ber Staatêfefretdr Sir gbiuarb ®rei) im Stuêiudrtigen 9tmt ein îiuer
3U ®f)ren beè ^rdfibenten ^odièreê, èei ttelc^em luiebernm ber ^rin.j oon 2SaIeè
3ugegen Uiar. lîm 9 *2 llf)r fanb fief) ber '^h'afibent 3U ber ©alaoper in Gonnentgarben;
Sï)eater ein. Saê §au§ bot ein gtcinjenbeê a3iib. 33er .fîonig unb bie fibnigin, ber
^rinj unb bie ÎÇrinjeffin Don 2Bateê unb Diele aubère 5DhîgIieber ber foniglic^en
tjamilie tno^nten ber 9(uffii^rung bei. Sruppenabteilungen eriuiefen am St. 3ameë=
'^^nïûft unb Dor bem Cpernf)aufe bei ber 3(n= unb 3tbfa!^rt bie miïitiirifc^en Êf)ren.
3lm 28. gab 'l.îrdfibent Cyatlièreè ein S)iner, an bem ber ,fionig unb ber '^'rin^ uon
2Bûle§ tei(naf)men. 2;ie îîûcfreife bee "^.Ucifibcnten nac^ '^-^ariê erfoigte am 29. 5[Rai.
Sic îoaftc Uoii iHcurtt.
93ei ber ©alatafel, bie am 9, ^uni an 93orb ber ruffif(^cn ^aiferja(|t ,,Stanbart"
ben 3ûren unb feine O^amilie mit ben englifd^en ©ciften cereinigte, unirben Pou 9]iîo-
lauê II. unb ,^onig gbuarb îoafte auégcbrac^t.
S;er Srinîfprucfi beè iîaifers SUtotaué (autcte :
,,Wit ben ©efiifjlen tieffter^efriebigung unb Jreube ïieifie \^ Sure 'DJÎajeftat unb 3iire
5Jlaieftat bie .Ronigin in ben ruffifct^en (iîettjaffern totUtommen. ^cf) tierttaue, ba^ bicfe
Segegnung, inbem fie bie mannigfad)cn unb ftarîen 58ûnbe, rtelc^e unfere Çaufer Derbinbeii,
t)on neuem befeftigt, ben gtiicf [tci}en (svfolg fjaben ttirb, unfere Sdnber enger jufammeujufii^rcn,
unb boB fie bie Slufrediterïiattung be§ ^rteben» in ber SBelt forbern tnirb. ^m i'ûufe ber
(e^ten ^ofire finb oerfc^iebene (yragen oon gteid^er Scbeutung fiir 9{uBtûnb unb Snglanb
burcf) unfere 3{egierungen in befriebigenber SiJetfe georbnet rtorben. ^i} bin fi($et, bû^ Sure
ÏRaieftiit ben SSert biefer 3>ercinbarungen ebenfo i)oii) fcbol^en Inie ic^. 2:enn tro^ itircr
begtenjteu S\^U îonnen fie nur baju beitragen, jrtiifc^en unferen beiben Sdnbern bie
©efinnung gegenfcitigen guten ÎBiUenâ unb ï>ertrauen§ ju Derbreitcn. ^d) trinïe auf bie
®efunbf)eit Surev 93taieftdt, Jibrcr TOajeftdt ber ^onigin unb auf bie 2Bof)lfa^rt ber toni=
glidben ("Çamilte unb be§ britifcben SBolteë."
îX'aranf antuiortetc jRbnig (îbuarb mie fofgt :
,,(Surer 53tûieftdt bante icb berjïidEift im 'liamen ber .^lônigin unb in meinem eigenen fiir bie
berjticfje SSeife, in ber Sie uns tu ben ©emdffcrn ber Oftfec inillfomnten gebei^en unb fiir bie
giitigen 2Borte, mit benen 2ie unfere ©cfunbbeit auêgebrac^t baben. ^d) bûbe bie gliicf ticbftcn
grinnevungen an ben ÏBitltomm, ben icb bei (Selegenbeit meiner friiberenSefucbe in 3îuBlûnb
uon feiten 3b^"e§ erbabenen ©roçtiaterê, ^i}xe§ geïiebten ÎPaterê unb (surer 5Jlaieftdt fclbft
gefunben ijaie, unb eê ift eine Cuelle aufridjtigfter 2:an{baïteit fiir micb, i>a% icb biefe
©etegenbeit i}ai>e, mit Suren 93Joieftdten luiebcv jufammen ju fein. ^dj unterf(^reibe Don
ganjem ."perjen febeê ai>ort, ba§ (Sure illajeftdt im AjinblicE ouf bie tiirjlicb stoifcben unferen
beiben ^Kegierungen geftfjtoffene Ûbereintunft gefproc^en baben. ^cb glaube, boB fie baju bicncn
toirb, bie IBanbe, toelcbe bie ïsotfer unferer beiben Sdnber bereinigen, noc^ enger ju fnii»tcn,
unb icb bin ficher, ha^ fie in ber 3"îunft ju einer befviebigenben unb freunbfd^aftlidjcn
;)fegelung einiger ttjicbtiger Jragen beitragen mirb. ^cb bin iibcrjeugt, baB fie nicbt nur bn;)U
bienen mixb, unfere beiben Sdnber ndber jufammen^ubringen, fonbern baB fie auc^ febv
rcefentlicb bie 2(ufrecbterbaUung beâ aUgemeinen SSeltfriebenè fbrbern mirb. ^c^ b^ffe, ba|
liO
DEDTSCHER TEIL
[820]
biefer Segegnunçj in ïuvjem eine onbere ©ekgeiiïieit foïgen totïb, mit gurer DJkjeftat
3ufaminen,^utreften. ^^ tvinte auf bie ©ejunb^eit Surer ''3}lajeftaten, auf bie bet Âîatferm
^J}îaria Jeobovoltma unb ber 'îJtitgïiebcï ber îoiferlicf)en Jamilie unb tior oUem auf bie 9So'^l=
fal^rt unb ba» ©ebeil^en 3ï)reê gtoBen 9{eid)e§."
Der Besuch des Schwedenkdnigs in Berlin.
Kônig Gustav V. und die Kônigin von Schweden sind am 31. Mai nach-
mittag 5 Uiir 22 Minuten auf dem Lehrter Bahnhof in Berlin eingetroffen.
Der Bahnhof war mit einer Ehrenpforte ' in schwedischen und deutschen
Fahnen deko-
riert. Zum Emp-
fang hatten sich
eingefiinden der
Kaiser in der
Uniform des 2.
Garderogiments
zu Fuli mit dem
Feldmarschall-
stab, die Kaise-
rin, die Kron-
prinzessin, aile
in Berlin und in
Potsdam weilen-
den Prinzen und
Prinzessinnen,
der Flirst von
Hohenzollern,
der Staatssekre-
tar des Auswiir-
tigen Amts v.
Schoen.die Her-
ren und Damen
der schwedi-
schen Gesaiidt-
schaft, zaJilrei-
che Mitglieder
der schwedi-
schen Kolonic
Gustav V., Kônig von Schweden.
und eine Gruppe von Kindern mit hlaugelben Fahnchen.
Der Kônig, der die Uniform seines Grenadierregiments zu Pferde (Freiherr
v. Derfflinger) trug, und die Kônigin wurden vom Kaiser und der Kaiserin
auf das herzlichste begriifit. Der Kaiser und der Kônig schritten die Front
der Ehrenwache ah und nahmen einen Vorbeimarsch ^ der Kompagnie ent-
gegen. Auf dem Wege zum Brandenburger Tor bildeten Innungen^ und
Kriegervereine Spalier. Auf dem Pariser Platz fand seitens der stadtischen
Behôrden^ die Begriifsung statt.
Die Ansprache des Oherburgermeisters lautete :
« Ew. Majestiiten bringen wir namens der stiidtischen Behorden und der Bûr-
gerschiift der Hauptstadt des Deutschen Reiches und von Preul^en die ehrerbietigsten
WiUkommengriiiie dar. Die Biirgerschaft Berlins ist eingedenk der engen ver-
1. arc (Je triomphe,
vient de.
2. défile. — 3. corporations. — 4. autorités.
5. se sou-
[821] DEDTSCHER TEIL lil
wandtschaftlichen Bande, die Ew. Majestiit eiiauchte Gemahlin und Ew. Majestiit
selbst mit dem Fùrstenhause Hohenzollern verbinden. Sie erinnert sich der \ielen
weltgeschichtlichen Beziehungen, die im Laufe der vergangenen Jahrhunderte
zwischen dem schwedischen Volke und dem ihm stammverwandten deutschen Volke
bestanden haben.
Sie gedenkt der zahlreichen gemeinsamen wirtschaftlichen, geistigen und politischen
Interessen. welche die beiden befreundeten Nationen in der Gegenwart verbinden. Sie
kniipft an den Besucli Ew. Majestiiten in unserem deutschen Vaterlande mit freudiger
Genugtuung die weitere Hoffnung, dal-i das unablassige, unermùdliche Streben Seiner
Majestiit des Deutschen Kaisers der Menschheit die Segnungen des Friedens zu erhalten
auch inZukunft von Erfolg gekront sein wird, und sie wûnscht dabei aufrichtig und
innig, dai^ die Stunden, die Ew. Majestiiten als Giiste unseres erhabenen Herrscher-
paares in unserer Stadt verleben werden, gUickliche und reich gesegnete seien. Das
walte Gott. »
Der Kônig von Schweden antwortete in deutschcr Spraclie leise :
« Ich freue mich, wieder in Berlin zu sein und danke Ihnen herzlich iûr die freund-
lichen Worte und fiir die vvarmen Begrùiiungen durch die Bevôlkerung Berlins. Der
Empfang kam von Herzen und geht auch zu Herzen. Ich werde micii stets des Tages
erinnern. »
Der Einzug in das Schlofi erfolgtc unter Glockengelaut. Am Abend um 8
Uhr fand in der Bildergalerie des Schlosses Galatafel statt. Bei der ïafel safi
der Kaiser links neben dem Kônig von Schweden, rechts von dieseni die Kai-
serin, links vom Kaiser die Kônigin von Schweden.
Hamburger Momentbilder.
III. — Die Alster-Mdwen .
Selbst Skeptiker, denen in und an Hamburg nicht ailes gefalit — w^as ihnen
der Hamburger Lokalpatriot nicht verzeiiien kann — gestehen, dah die Alster
einzig in ihrer Art ist. Mitten in der Geschaftsstadt gelegen, bietet sie einen
eigenartig schônen Anblick und Gelegenheil znm Segel- und Rudersport. An
schônen Sommernachmittagen, nach Bureauschluh, ist sie bedeckt von
schlanken Ruderbooten und schnellen Segelbooten, deren weifie Leinewand
im Sonnenlichte blitzt. Dazwischen kreuzen die Alsterdampfer, die den
Verkehr von der City nach Win terhudc, Eppendorf, Uhlenhorst und Barmbeck
vermitteln.
Im Winter zwar, wenn der Frost die Wellen biindigt und in die Fcsseln
des Eises schlagt, schwindet das bewegte Bild. Aber ein neuer Reiz steilt sich
ein. Von der Meereskïiste und den Schleswigschen und Lauenburgischen
Seen her kommen graziôse, schnellbeschwingte Gaste: Scharen von Môwen.
Sie gehoren zur Famille der Lachmôwen. Schrille Schreie ausstohend,
schwirren sie ùber den Jungfernstieg hinweg, nach den Fleeten' und wieder
zurïick nach der Alster. Die zierlichen, tanbenàhnlichen Vôgel paddeln - in
den offenen Wasserstellen, sitzen dann auf den Pontons und warmen sich
in der kargen^ Wintersonne, die mitiinter die bleifarbenen Wolken zerteilt.
Der Hunger liât die Môwen aus ihrer Heimat, wo ihre Brutstiitten sind,
hierhergetrieben. In der GroÉstadt bieten ihnen die Abtalle aus Menschen-
hand mehr als dranfsen die wintererstarrte Natur. Und sie schiifen in Ham-
burg einen neuen Erwerbszweig. Auf dem .Jungfernstieg stehen Frauen und
halten kleine Fischchen, sogenannte Breitlinge* feil. Die Tiite^ voll kostet 10
Pfennige. Und so entstand ein neuer schôner Sport : die Môwen zu fûttern.
Den giitigen Geber umflatternd und gierig schreiend, fangen sie die in die
1. canaux. — 2. palaugeiH. — 3. schwachen. — 4. melettes. — 3. cornet.
14;2 DEUTSCHER TEIL ^8221
Hôhe geworfenen Fischchen auf, wohl gar nach der Hand pickend und
einander mit Flïigelschlagen trelTend. Eine weifjgraue \N'olke von Fliigeln
und zieiiiclien Vogelleibern.
Bis zum Anfang Mtirz bleiben die Môwen in Hamburg. Dann verschwinden
sic eben so plôtzlich, Avie sie gekommen sind — iiber Nacbt, bis zum niichstert
Winter, wo sie sich wieder einstellt, die frefigierige, schnoUtliigelige Schar,
ie in der Grofistadt, mitten im Hauscrmi-ere so eigen bcriibrt.
Das Tierparadies.
Zvvei zoologiscbe Garten weist Hamburg auf. Der altère, mitten in der
Stadt belegene, unterscbeidet sich, abgeseben von der Reichlialtigkeit seines
Tierbestandes, deni von Weltreisen zurïickkelirende Kapitiine und Steuerleute
durch Gescbenke immer neue Exemplare zufiihren, durch nichls von denen
anderer Sladte. Der jiingero, von Karl Hagenbeck nacli jaiirelangen Vorar-
beiten im Friihjahr im Vorort Stellingen erofTnet, ist bislier einzig in seiner
Art. Hagenbeck wandle im ausgedehnten MaPse das System ofTener Gehege
an, so dafi die Tiere in relativer Freiheit leben. In der Raublierschlucht z. B.,
die nur durch einen breiten Wassergraben abgesperrt ist, bat er Lowen und
Tiger voreinigt und so schône Bastardierungen erzielt. Auch wissenschaftlich
intéressante >'ova('' gibt es in diesem Tierparadies. So wurde festgestellt, da&
Riesenschlangen auch tote Tiere verschlingen ; und afrikanische Straufîc
tummelten sich bei zelm Grad Kâlte im Schnee. So ist Hagenbecks Tierpark
dazu angelan, nicht nur durch populiire Belchrung, sondern auch in
wissenschaftliciier Bczielmng Dienste zu leisten.
iSchlufi.)
lludolf Braune-RoIôla.
6. nouveautés.
Goethe'
IH
Aber wiilirend in England und Frankreich dtirch Yerstand und Gelehr-
samkeit ausgezeichnete Mànner ihr Studium und ihre Partei mit einer
gewissen Leichtfertigkeit sich wàhlen, ohne daftsiedeshalb mit Leib und
Seelc dabei zu sein brauchen — was auch gar nicht von ihnen verlangt
Avird — spricht Gœthe, das Haupt und die Verkôrperung des deutschen
Yolkes, nicht deshalb, weil er ein talentvoller Mann ist, sondern ans
seinen Worten bricht leuchtend die Waiirheit hervor : er ist ûberaus
vveise, obwohl sein Talent oft seine Weisheit verschleiert. Mag sein
Ausspruch auch noch so ausgezeichnet sein, er hat imnier noch einen
hôheren und schôneren Sinn dabei im Auge. Das erweckt meine
Neugierde. Er besitzt die fûrchterliche Unabhiingigkeit, die der Verkehr
mit der Wahrheit verleiht : hôre auf ihn oder unterlaft es — die von ihm
Siehe die vier audern Telle.
[823] DEUTSCHER TEIL 143
festgestellte Tatsache bleibt bestehen ; dcin Intéresse ain Ycdasser
l)eschrankt sich iiicht aiif seine Geschichte : du verabschiedest ihn uicht
ans deinem Gedàchtnis, sobald er seine Sache zm- Zufriedenheit gemacht
liât, wie den Bàckei% wenn er seinen Laib Brot dagelassen bat ; sondern
sein Werk ist der geringste Teil an ihm. Der alte Ewige Geist, der die
Welt erbaut, bat sicb diesem Mann mehr anvertraut als irgend eineni
andern . . . Sein Ziei ist nichts geringeres als die Eroberung der ganzen
Natur, der ganzen Wahrheit — sie will er als sein Gut erobern : er ist ein
Mann, der sich nicht bestechen, nicht betrûgen, nicht einschùchtern
lâbt, ein Mann von stoischer Selbstbeherrschung und Selbstverleugnung,
der iûr aile Menschen nur den einen Prûfstein hat : « Was kann ich von
dir lernen?» Yon diesem Standpunkt ans bewertet er aile Besitztùmer :
(( Rang, Vorrechte, Gesiindheit, Zeit und das Dasein selbst. »
{Schluf^.)
R. W. Emerson.
Wodan oder Odin *.
III
U m Wodan s Beistand' zu erlangen, weiheu ôfter Helden dem Gotte
nicht nur aile im Kampfe Gefallenen, sondern sie schlieben eine Art
Bûndnis- mit ihm, indem sie ihm ihr eigenes Leben als Opfer verheiben',
wenn er ihnen eine bestimmte Reihe von Jahren hindurch Sieg ûber aile
Feinde. Ruhm und reiche Beute^ verleihe. Ist die Frist-^ abgelaufen, so
ratft den Helden ein rascher Tod, meist mitten im Kampfgetïimmcl% fort ;
denn der Gott versiiumt ' nicht das ihm verfallene^ Leben einzufordein^.
Auch weiht zuweilen ein Heer vor der Schlacht das feindliche Heer dem
Wodan ; ihm werden dann die Gefangenen und die Pi'erde geschlachtet.
So weihten die Cimbern vor der Schlacht bei Arausio (lOo v. Chr.) ihm
das rômische Heer: auf Wodans Beistand vertrauend warlen sie die
romischen Legionen nieder.
Oft nimmt Wodan selbst teil an den Schlachten der Vôlker. Dann tritt
er wohl hinter die Reihen der Kiimpfenden, zieht eine Armbrust'" hervor,
legt zehn Pfeile zugleich anf die Sehne" und erlegt mit einem Schub zehn
Feinde. (Ider er erscheint als einiiugiger Greis, einen breitrandigen
Schlapphut'- tief in die Stirn gedrûckt, in blauem,{Ieckigem Mantel und
tritt selbst dem Helden in den Weg, dem die Todesstunde bestimmt ist.
Zuweilen verleiht Wodan seinen Lieblingen einzelne seiner Waffen,
Schwert, Brûnne oder Speer. Sie sichern ihrem Besitzer steten Sieg. Aile
Feinde ïiber welche Wodans Speer hinsaust, sind dem Tode verfallen.
Wodan ist recht eigentlich der Gott der Kônige und Helden. Die
deutschen Fûrstengeschlechter nennen ihn ihren Stammvater, grobe
* Siehe Nummern 1, 2, 12, 16 und 17.
1. assistance. — 2. pacte. — 3. promettent. — 4. proie. — 5. délai. — 6. mêlée du
combat. — 7. tarde. — H. échue, rouée. — 9. réclamer. —10. arbalète. — 11. corde.
— 12. chapeau mou ci larges bords.
144 DEUTSCHER TEIL [824]
Kriegshelden heifien seine Sôhne. Aber Wodan weckt aiich in der Seele
des Sangers die schlummernden Geister der Dichtiing : Wodans Gabe ist
das begeisterte Lied, das dem Siinger ans voiler Brust hervorstrômt und
aile, die es héiren, in weihevolle Stinimung versetzt. Auf ^Yunde^bare
Weise erwarb er iiach der nordischen Sage dièse Gabe der Dichtkunst.
Ein Riese Suttung verwahrte in drei gewaltigen Gefafien den Met, der so
zauberkràftig war, dafijeder, der davon trank, ein Dichter wurde. Zur
Hiiterin batte er seine schône Toebter Gunnlôd bestellt. Durch scblaue
List gelangte Odin zu ihr in verwandelter Gestalt und wuftte ihre Liebe
zu erringen. Dem geliebten Manne gestattete Gunnlôd drei Ziige von deni
kostbaren Met zu tun. Da trank Odin in drei machtigen Ziigen die drei
Gefàfie leer. AIsbald verwandelte er sicb in einen Adler und schvvangsich
hoch in die Lïifte auf, vergeblich von dem Riesen verfolgt. So singt Odin
in der Edda von sich :
« Gunnlôd sclienkte mir auf goldenem Sessel
Einen Trunk des teuern Mets.
t'bel vergolten ' ' hab' ich gleichwohl
Ihrem heiligen Herzen,
Ihrer gliihendeu Gunst, «
und vveiter :
« Den Suttung beraubt" ich mit Riinken des Mets
Und liefi Gunnlôd sich gnimen ". »
Seinen Gûnstlingen, den Siingern, teilt der Gott von dieser Gabe mit ;
so macht er sie zu gottbegeisterten Dichtern, die entziickt durch des
Gottes Gabe, ihre Gesànge erschallen lassen.
Deshalb heibt Bragi, der Gott der Skalden (Sànger), Odins Sohn, demi
in dem Sohne eines Gottes ist stets nur eine Seite des Wesens seines
gottlichen Vaters ausgepriigt.
(Fortsetzung folgt.)
Nach Lange.
13. récompensé. — 1'*. se lamenter.
^ie @u(e ' un^ Hv ^(i)aiinvài>cv.
^cner <Scï)atigrdï)cr luar ein fet)r unfeilliger - DJlann. @c luagte fid) in Me
9îitinen eincê alten Oîûnbfrfiloffeâ unb Uiûvb ba geiMf)r-, baf^ bie (£ute eine
luagere 3}iau§ crcjriff unb ner^efjrte. „<Bà)\dt fid) baâ*/' fprarf) er, „fur ben pï)i=
IofLipt]ifd)cn 2iebltnt3 lUincrDenô ?"
„ÏGarum ni(^t?" nerfel^tc bie fêule. „2Beiï id) ftide S3cot)a(ï)tungen ^ liebc,
îann ic^ bcStrcgen t)ou ber 2nft leben';^ '^â) mi^ gloar tt)oï)ï, ba^ iî)r 9)lenf(^en
es non enrcn ©etef)rtcn bertangt."
Ceffing.
1. hibou. — 2. inigcïec^teï. — 3. fa^ cr. — 4. est-ce convenable? — 5. réflexions.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 19. 5 Juillet 1S08. 8* Année.
DEUTSCHER TEIL
Der Wein als Kulturpflanze.
I
Was die Alten in lieiligen Mysterien als dunkles Geheimnis feierten, das
ist heute jederniann gelaufige ' Wahrheit, verherrlicht durch Schiilers
gedankenreiches Gedicht, daÊ der Mensch gleicli dem Tier der Wùste unstat
iind elend uinherirrte, solange er nur auf Jagd and liaub angewiesen war,
dafî erst die Gaben der Ceres, die Getreidearteii, ihm ein friedliches, gesi-
chertes Dasein, die Môglichkeit fester Niederlassungen % geseliiger und
staatlicher Vereinigung geschafft haben. Dariim bezeichnen wir die angebau-
ten Gewiicbse als Kulturpflaiizen, nicht allein weil sie selbst der Kultiir
bediirfen, sondern aiich weil sie fiir die Menschheit Trager der Kultur
gewesen sind, wie ja noch heutzutage der Ackerbau das Fiindament jedes
geordneten Kulturlebens geblieben ist. Wenn es nun im allgenieinen von
bobeni Intéresse ist, den natur-iind kulturgeschichllichen Tatsacben nachzii-
forscben, auf denen jene bedeutungsvolle Wechselwirkung ^ zwiscben den
alten Kultiirpflanzen und der Menschheit beniht, so ist es doppell intéressant,
dièse Beziehnngen am Weinstock zii verfolgen, den Mutter Natur mit beson-
derer Vorliebe ausgestattet, den ein besonderer Adel umschwebt und der
niichst den Getreidearten die wichtigste Koile in der Kulturgeschichte dci'
Menschheit gespielt bat.
Der erste Ant'ang der Weinkultur fallt gleich dem Anbau der Getreidearten
und der Zahmung der meisten Haustiere vor den Anfang aller Geschichte in
die Kindheitdes Menschengeschlechtes, aus der keine lîrinnerung zuriickge-
blieben ist. Ohne Zvveifel war es eines der Urvôlker aus dem kaukasisehen
Stamtn, welches zuerst die ungebnndene Freiheit des wilden Jagdlebens
aufgab ^, indem es vorzog, Rind und Schaf in Herden sorgsam aufzuziehen,
statt sie mlihselig in Gebirg und Steppe zu jagen, und einzelne kôrnerreiche
Gràser und Fruchtbaume in bearbeitetes Erdreich auszupflanzen, statt sich
auf die ungewissen Ertrage^ der wilden Flora zu verlassen ; von diesen
ersten Ackerbauern haben dann die iibrigen Vôlker erst nach und nach die
Gaben der Ceres und des Bacchus kennen gelernt.
Aile Anzeichen weisen auf Vorderasien als die gemeinsame Heimat der
mittellandischen Volkerund ihrer wichtigsten Haustiere und Kulturptlanzen
bin ; der jungfrauliche Boden muli aber mit der Zeit die Fâhigkeit verloren
haben, dièse Gewâchse freiwillig und ohne Zutun '^ der Menschen hervorzu-
bringen oder dièse selbst haben sich infolge einer tausendjiihrigen Kultur
so verandert, daÊ sie ihren Stammformen '' nicht mehr gleichen, die in der
Heimat zuriickgeblieben sind. Dièse selbst ist vielleicht zur WUste geworden,
wie es ja der grôfite ïeil der Lànder Asiens geworden ist, die in der Urzeit
der Sitz einer hohen Kultur waren. Da wir kein Land kennen, wo unsere
1. courante. — 2. établissement. — 3. action et réaction. - 4. renonra à.
5. productions . — 6. intervention. — 7. types primitifs.
[109] ALIÏM. 19
146 DEUTSGHER TEIL [866]
Getreidearten wirklich wild wachsen, und da dieselben auch nirgend
verwildern, so sind sie in der Tat hcimatlos geworden, und wenn der
Mensch heiitc aufhorte, Gerste und Weizen, Hafer und Korn, Reis und Mais
zii bauen, wiirden dieselben in vvenigen Jahrcn vôUig von der Erde vcr-
schwinden. Zu den wenigen Pflanzen, die sicli iiberall leicht einbiirgern, die
sich von selbst aussiien, die in natiirlichem Freiheitstriebe nach WaJdern und
einsanien Gegenden entfliehen, die verwildern nnd sich naluralisieren,
gehort neben unseren Obstbaumen der Weinstock. Ûberall, wo er seinen
Samen reift, bat er die Neigung, sich der menschlichen Knechtscbaft zn
enlziehen und zn verwildern. Es lalU sich heute nicht raehr entscheiden,
welcher Teil Vorderasiens die Urheimat des Weinstockes war und wohin er
in spalerer Zeit durch den Menschen verpflanzt nnd dann erst, nachtraglich *
verwildert ist. Die edlen Spielarten des Weinstockes haben sich ohne Zweifel
erst iinter der Pflege des Menschen durch Anpassung^ an die verschiedensten
Kulturbedingnngen entwickelt ; sie werden anch einzig und allein durch den
Menschen erbalten und verbreitet, da sie nicht durch Samen, sondern
ausschlieBlich durch Ableger und Stecklinge *" vermehrt werden.
[Fortsetzung fohjt.)
Hauf, Ilof und Oarten.
S. spliler. — 9. adaptation. — 10. provins et houiurei^.
20 mimoncn fitr cin mcitf.
aSelcfie ungc'^euren ÏÔerte in ïoftfcaren ^leibevn niebergelcgt finb, baè benu-ifen bic
3tuffteïïnngen ' eincr cttglifcEien 3c'tfcf)rift, bie bie teiterftcu ^(ciber ber 2CeIt fier^af)!!.
3în bet ©pii^e ftef)t bie ,<îiinigin non ©iant mit i^vcm ©taatî^mantel^, ben fie nur cinmal
im ^ai}rt anlegt. ®icjeô jcibene JîïcibnngSftitcî ift ûkr unb ù6er'' mit S)tamanten,
Smai'ûgbeu, 3hi5inen unb Sa^j^iren Êefel^t, fo bicï}t mie bic 3JtiI(f)ftra|}e '► mit Sternen,
unb ber ÏÔert bicfer l^errïicï^en gbeiftetue ïd^t fief; nur ungefii^v fc^at^eu, iibeïfteigt
aî)cr fidjcr bie Snmme non 20 SJcillionen SDÎavï. ©inc ber bciben Sctimeftern bcë Sûi-'f"»
bie ©iittin beê ©vofîfiiriteu Sllcranbcr 9Jiid)acIomityrf}, ftcf)t ber liameiifrfjen §crïj(ï)erin
ni(î)t l>iel narf», benn [ie befi^t ciu ^'teib in ber ruffi[d)en i){ationaItrad)t, baé ebenfallê
gan3 mit (fbeifteiuen befe^t ift. S)ûè 5Jlieber-' unb bie bveifpiljartige ïïlii^e beftet)en
eigentlicf) uur am ^uioelen unb finb bûï)er fo fc^iroer, bcife fie nur fclten angeïcgt
iDerben ïônnen. 2)ie amcriîanifcC^en 5Dttntonariunen IfaUn \nâ)t gan3 fo ïoftbare
meiber. @in mcib ber DQlrë. 3)larîie jum 23eifpiel foftct 200 000 gjlarï, benn bie
S)ame, bcren ©atte burcf) cineu auêgebef)nten ©c()Uieinel)anbeI un9cf)euere gtieictjtiimcr
gefammelt t)at, gcfjt nirfjt anberê aie in h(n fcï)bnften 23riiffeler 5pi^en unb in cfÇ)ter
ÎÇerlenftidferei. 3mei a5riiffeter ©d^alê, bie fie aie 5icï)U auf einem Alleibe nerarbeitet
ï)at, finb nltciu 100 000 5Jlnrf rtiert ober me{)r nlâ ,5irieil)unbertmat i()r ©cmid)t in ©olb.
@ine ruffifcf)e ïlhlliondrin befi|t etnen longen Siïtantel aui ©iIberfu(^âS beffen SCBert
nic^t ob^ufdjrtlîen ift, unb ber jebenfallS ui(ï)t be,]al)ft merbeu fbnute, menu mnn if)n
audi gnu,5 mit ©olbftiicfen belegte. Ser Çonlsfrageu atlein I)nt 12 000 3!)larf getoftet.
©inen ein.îigQrtigen ^{ciditum an ^el3en bcfi^t aui^ bie 3Bitme beë d)inefifd)en ©taat§=
mauneê Si §uug 6f)ong, in bcren ©arberobe SOO ^peljrDÏien ber atterïoftbarften 3trt
fid) beftnben. ®eu Slïtittiouarinnen fuc^en bie ©taré' ber 23iiï)ne nn auêgemdfjltcn
Soilcttcn nidit nai^jufteîjcu. S)ie Sd^aufpicïcrin îlJlré. Saugtri) triigt 3:oi(etten, bie anè
©beifteineu, ©pi^en unb ©eibe fo oerfdjUieuberifc^ ïomponicrt finb, ba^ fie uic^t felteu
1. ajerjeidjniâ. — 2. nuuilcau de cour. — !?. ganj. — 4, la voie lactée. — 5. le corsage.
- 6. renard argeatô. — 7. ©tetnc.
[867]
DEDTSCHER TEIL
147
ben SBert uon 200 000 93larï ûbevfteigen, unb fie brinçît e§ fertig, i^re .Sleibitng on
eitiem 9(6cub fe(^§maï 3U icec^feln. Slud^ bie ©ângerin ïïlelda triigt ^utoelen an
if)ven ^(eibern, beren 3®ert fic^ fogar biê ouf etne 93îittton betauft.
2)ct? <^ommcrrt(^cn^.
1, O fiet), mie ift bie ©onne miib',
©ic^, iDte fie ftitl na^ -Çaufe jieîit !
D fieï),toie ©traî)( iim ©traï)! uergtimmt' ,
aajie fie if)V 2ii(ï)e(d}en ba nimmt,
gin ïôolïcf^en, blau mit 9tot bermifd^t,
Unb fic^ bamit bie ©tirne linf(ï)t !
2. 2Ûaf)r ift eê, fie f)at fc^timme 3eit,
^m ©ommer gar ! ®er 2Beg ift uieit,
Unb Slrbeit finb't fie iièeraû :
3n içawê unb 3^etb, in ïïerg unb %al
Sïangt otleô fid) naâ) il)rem ©cf^ein
Unb uiiK non ïi)x gefegnct fein.
:i. 5Jlaniï) 23UimIcin f)at fie auôftnf ficvt,
9)lit O^arbcn prdcfjtig auSgesiert.
S)em 23iencfjen gibt fie feinen Srunï
Unb fagt' 3U i{)m : ,,§aft auc^ geuung-V"
Bam norf) ein ^ctfertfien" in ©il',
©eUiif] fieïam e§ auc^ fein 3:eit.
4. SJtonc^ ©amen^itïêc^en fprengt fie
[ûUf
Unb î)oIt ben ©amen brau§ fierauê.
2Sie bettelten'" bie 93Dge(d^en,
2Sie Uie^ten fie bie ©(ï)natiel(|en !
Unb feinë ge!)t ï)ungrig bocf) 3n 58ett,
Saè nid^t fein %nl im ^rbpfi^en'' t)dtt'.
5. Ser cKirfd^e, bie am 23Qume Iac[)t,
§at rote 23acîen fie gemacf)t.
Unb mo im g^elb bie Sl^re fifiliianït,
Unb ïuo am ^^fat)I bie 9ie6e ranït,
©leitï) ïiimmevt fief) bie ©onne brum,
§dngt if)nen Saub unb Sliiten um.
1. s'éteint. — 2. genug.
scarabée, — 4. mendièreat.
3. petit
5. jabot.
6. Unb auf ber Sîïeid^e, fe^t boi^ an !
Wuiiji fie fii^ 5trt)eit, U10 fie tonn ;
S)a§ ^at bem 95Ieid)er^ f(ï)on Be^agt,
®o(^ ^at er ni(^t „©ott§ 8of)n !" gefagt.
3ft irgenb SBafd^e rtto im Crt,
©ie trocïnet f)ier, fie trodfnet bort.
7. Unb unvfti(^ Uiaf)r : altiibevan,
2Û0 irgenb iiur bie ©enf im %aî
'3)nxâ) ©va§ unb buxii) bie §atme ging,
®a mad^t fie §eu. 2Cie get)t baê flinï :
@ê toitt tDaâ fagen, meiner 2reu',
5lm 3[Jlorgen (5ra§, am 3lï)eiib .s>eu,
8. ®rum ift fie jeljt fo fc^recïïid) miib'
Unb braudjt jum ©d^Iaf fein Slbenblieb.
,Çîntt SSunber ift e§, loenti fie fcf}ini^t !
©ief), luie fie auf bem ffierg ba fi|t ;
,,©(ï)Iaft aile ïuot)!!" fo ruft fie je^t
Unb U\d)eU noc^ 3U guterleljf.
9. S)a ift fie Uicg ! 23cf)iit' bief) (Sott !
®er §aï)n am ^ird^tuvm, fefjt, une rot !
©r gudt iï)r nad) inê .s^iauê ^inein,
S)u Dtafetoeiê, f 0 (afe eê fein !
S)a l)at er eê ! 3n gutcr 9iul)'
3ie^t fie ben roten ^Borl^ang gu.
10. ^âj bent', Uiir geî)en aurf) iné 9îeft.
ÏÔen fein ©emiffen'* ruf)ig tafet,
©c^Idft fid)er ein auc^ ol^ne Sieb,
3)ie Strbeit mad)t Don felber miib' ;
©0 manc^e§ ift bocf) f)eut' Dotibracïit.
©ott geb' un§ etne gute 9tact)t !
3ol)aun '].^eter .•ôebel.
(StUemannifc^e @ebtd)te, in§ .Spoc^beutfdje
iibeïtïagen Don Stobert 3îeintcf, x;eip=
jig, 1851.)
6. blanchisseur
8. conscience.
— 7. am ®nbe. —
148 DEUTSCHER TKIL [868j
35ie ©irifctt am 2Scgc *.
.«îônifl Cîfttt non 3d)tt>cbcn '.
I
3ln ctnem ïjerbftïii^cu 5Jîorgcn, aU bie ©onne foeBen i^re gïûf)cnbe ^ugel
iibcr bcn -S^orijont er{)ot)en, jebod) bie ©tcaïjïen nocf) nid^t bic faite 8uft
cruiarmt f)ûtten, fat) id) am 2Bege einige 93irîen mit bereitS geïbcm Caube
ftef)en. ^i}U 3eit na!)erte fi(^ bem Snbe ; il)r 58fiitcn(eben, obgleid) fnrj, tnar
ein fd)i3neë Scben geiuefcii, ein ^3cben, bcrfloifeii in ber ï)errlid)en uorbif(^cn
5îatur. 2U§ bie ©trablcn ber '^enjeSfonnc ©c^nee iinb ©iê fd)moÏ3en, aie
eiitfejjelte 93acî)e fo angenebm ranfd)ten itnb bie Serd)e i^re Slriller in ber
ï)0(^blauen Suft fd)ïug, ba entfprofjen jarte ^nofpen an§ ben ïafjlen ^ït^eisen;
biefe ^nofpen lunrben ,^1 Sïdttcrn, fie gebieï)cn in ben Uiarmen Sen^eëtninben.
S)er 93irîen(iain îlribete ftd) in bie griine O^arbe ber §offnnng. «Solange ber
©ommcr, ber Iid)tgelodte ®ott, im Siorben l]err|d)tc, folange genoffen fie i^re
bliil)enbe ©d)bnl)cit. Unfd)nIbt)oïl nnb einfad) liebtoften fie einanber unb
fdjenîten erqiiidenben @d)atten bem SBanberer, ber non bem 23ranb ber (Sonne
ermiibct foar. .lînn, ba ber im 'Jiorben incï ,yi ïnr,^e ©ommer entf(oî)cn ift, fieï)
nnn, une fie mit S)emut il]r ©d]idfal tragen nnb ben Bà)a^ if)rcr -Ûronen ,^ur
Êrbe fatlen (affen. ^n ber ,3cit it)rer (vrnirbrignng nnb beê llngliirfë fteben fie
nod) gleid)fam biefe ftilie DJtorgcnftnnbe betimnbcrnb ba. 3U§ ub fie jnm
SCanberer, ber an if)nen uorbeieilt, nm feiner tdgtid)en 5ïrbeit nad) ber
(Sonntagêrnbe nadjjugeben, fprdd)en, inerften fie if)n ,yir 23cUinnbcrnng nnb ,vi
©ebanfen, bie lueniger an bie (?rbe gefeffeit finb.
®er 93tenfd) t)at and) feinen Scn,v feinen Sommer nnb feincn i^:)erbft ! Xn
^2în^ ift feine 3ïngcnb,]eit, ber Sommer fein lltanneoatter, ber §erbft fcin aliter,
îtber e§ ift n)aï)r, ba^ mitten in ber fien,^,^eit ber 9)tenfd) §erbft fein fann, luie
in ber 3eit Î5c§ C?erbfte§ fid) ein 3^ritf)tingeigranen ,^eigen mag. S)ie Sorge fann
ben niorgen jnm ?lbenb, l^enj ,yim §erbft oerîuanbeln. Sem fiebenybanm, in
ben ber 23Iit; eingefd)Iagen bat, inirb e§ fd)toer, fid) ivieber embor,yu-id)ten, nnb
jebenfallS bebarf er ber ^eit ba^n. (Se fann ibm fogar nnmi)gïid) fein, toenn eS
nid)t uuit)(uioncnbc Hcenfc^en gibt, Uield)e ben nmnfenben 93anm ftittsen unb
aufre(^t erf)alten I 3)ie einfame StBûftcupalme unrb fo lange Oom Siroffo
t)er,^el)rt, biê fie faïlt, fie mag nod) fo ftarf nnb fd)Ianf geU)efen fein.
(?yortfeintug folgt.)
* @tc^e bie «icr anbcrn îcite.
1. aSiï entnef)men bicfe§ îleine ©timmungêbiïb au§ bev gebet be§ ©(^njcbcnïontçî? ben
,,^;pïo?atîit)en ©d)ïifteu", bie in einer treffli(|en iiberfetjung t)on ©mil ^onaë in Çamlnirg,
ikïïaçi§anftalt '}[. &., evicfjienen finb. S)er .^îiinig luav adjtjcï^n ^a1)i:e ait, aU cv bicîr ;^eilen
^cmoiifh'rtttoitcii im îOcrttcr.
3ïnd) ^eute fommt e§ noà) ,yiU)ei(en oor, baf? ba'3 '^subïiînm bnrd) Speï=
tafcifjenen' fein Hci^fallen iiber gcmiffe ^lUirgdnge im Xbeater dnf3ert. (^ruber
U)ar man aber in biefcr Se5iel)uug nod) niel ïebbaftcr.
1. scènes tunuilluei'ses.
[869J DEUTSCHER TEIL 149
^m acï)t(^ef)nten ^a^r^unbert lebtc in ^|^aL•i§ ein Oîitteu be la BDIorlirrc, ber
ftd) t)on .^onîurrenten gcttiiffei- ©ramatifer filr baâ 3if(ï)en t)ei erften
5Inffufiritngen'- bejaîiïen lief]. SincS Songea aBeu uerbot i()m bie ^>o(i,^ei ba§
3iîcf)cii, iinb er get)ord)te ; jcbod) 6ei cincr erften ?lufiiU)niin3, beuengiaSfo er
„îontraftmaBiG" f)crbei3iifu()ren t)atte, fpecrte er im cjecignetcn ^lugenbltcf hen
93hnib ,511 eineni cgel-oalttgcn itiib aii^erorbcnt(id) geraufd)i)oUen' ©dljiien^ aitf :
ba§ '^>ubïifum tat, ha (Satpteit Oefanutlid) anftcdenb'' luirft, baSfelbe, iinb ha^
©tiid erlebte ben îdjoitften 5)urd)îatl, bon luan ftd) benfen faim. ÎJÎarmontel
pafficrte e§, bû^ er bel bcr erften 5Utfful)riing feiner Slragobie „-5îïeopatra" feI6ft
ber nnfreimtUtgc llrt)eber be§ ûKgemeinen ^ifc^cn^J tDnrbe. Sa^j '^Jubliïitm
tanglueilte fid) enife^Iid), aber eô fdjluieg, ba man Dor bem beriiljinten llcûnien
beâ S)id)terâ einigen Oîefpeît ()atte. {yi'ir ben fûnften 3ltt tt3ar nnd) SJtarmontcIâ
5lngabcn6 non einem berûf)mten 5Jled)antfer eine mec^anifd)e 2>iper tonftrniert
Uiorben ; biefe 2]iper fodte iîleopatra bei^en nnb burd) ben 93iB itiren îob
l)erbeifiU)ren. ®er 93îed)anifer unb ^Jtutomûtenfabrifant liatte btvS 9îcptit fo
dl)n(id) gemad)t, ba^ eê fogar baâ oifc^ei^ i^er 'Sd)Iangen nad)mad)te. .^leopatra
legte ftd) bie 9îatter an hen 23nfen, nnb haè tunftlid)e Sier begann, tM[)renb eê
branfloSbtf^, nnangenet)m jn ^tfc^en. 5luf ber ©telle ïteB fid) im '^arfett eine
©timme t)erne()men, bie aifo in ben <Baal l)ineinrtef : „®ie i^iper ^at rec^t ;
and) là) bin ber 5lnftd)t, baf^ man l)icr ,^ifd)en mn^..."
2}or nod) nidit aÙju langer 3cit — im ^^bre 1892 — fal) man bei einer
©emonftration gegen bie ©c^anfpielcrin ^abtng -Ritben, .rîobtfbpfe nnb ,5u(e^t
fogar jtuei ïebenbige lïanind)en auf bie 93itbne fliegen I 3e|3t aber ift bie
(n\')abtte (stagne ha, nm bem ^eifattbeS 'ï|}nbtifnm§ bie 9îtd)tnng ,^n geben nnb
etuiaigc (Sntriiftnngêîunbgebnngen' jn nnterbriiden. 'X'er ^often bcâ (vf)efâ ber
(stagne an ber '"^utrifer Cper tbnnte hcn 'Dteib fetbft cine'â 'llUnifterê crregen'^ ;
al^j fid) ber bamatige „6^t)ef" oon ben ©efct)aften jnriidjog, fanftc itim jemanb
bie 3lac^fotge fiir 80(X)0 g?ranc§ ab.
?. représentatioDS. — 3. bruyant. — 4. bâillement. — 5. d'une manièie contagieuse. —
C>. indications. — 1. marques d'indignation. — 8. exciter l'envie.
Wodan oder Odin*.
lY
Als Gott des Geisteshauches ' ist Wodan der Erfinder aller Weisheit.
Rastlos- strebt er den Urorund" aller Dinge und das Endschicksal^ der Welt
und der Gôtter zii erforschen. Demi allwissend im voUen Sinne des
Wortes ist er ebensoweiiio- wie irgend ein anderer der germanischen
(lôtter; er ist nur der Weiseste von Gôttern wie Menschen. Wegen
seines unablassigen^^ Sinnens und Siichens nach tief verborgener Weisheit
iiennt ihn die Edda '• den griibeinden Asen ". Ja, so weit geht er in
seinem Forschen nach verborgener Weisheit, dab er dem Riesen Mimir,
• Siehe Nummern 1, 2, 12, 16. \1 und 18.
1. f^oufflc de l'esprit. — 2. iufatifiablement. — 3. cause première. — i. ileslinée finale.
— 5. continuel.
150 DEUTSCHER TEIL [870J
in dessen Brunnen die tiefste Weisheit verborgen liegt. eins seiner Augen
fur einen Trunk ans diesem Weisheitsqnell dahingegeben hat.-
Dei' Weiseste der Gôtter ist auch Erlinder der Runen, dergermanischen
Zanl)erschrilt'''. Rnnen ritzt er in Zauberstâbe^; kein Wesen auf der Welt
vermag Wodans Runcnzaul)er zn widerstelien. Durcli diesen Rnnenzan-
her ist Wodan allmaclitig. Die Kunst, Runen zu ritzen, lehrt Wodan die
(îôtter und seine Lieblinge unter den Menschen.
Sein unablâssiges Forschen nach verborgener Weisheit treibt Wodan
zn mannigfachen Wandernngen. In verhiillter Gestalt, ailes Glanzes
seiner gôttlichen Erscheinung bar% als Greis von hohem Wuchse, mit
dichtem Haupthaar und lang herabwallendem, greiseni Rart, seine Ein-
Jingigkeit verdeckenddnrch den tief insGesichtgedriickten, breitrandigen
Schiapphut, iinnvalltvon weitem, blauein, ileckigem Mantel, so hâter,
ein unermùdlicher Wanderer, alleneun Welten durchwandert, der Riesen
Heimat, die Menschenerde, die dunkeln ïiefen der Berge, wo weise
Zwerge slillgeschaftig ^virken, ja, bis znm Saale der schicksalskundigen
Nornen^ tief unter der Wnrzel derWeltesche, seibst biszu der schaurigen,
feuchtkalten Nebelwelt, wo Hel, die ïodesgottin, hanst, ist der nie niùde
Schritt des unerschrockenen Wanderers vorgedrungen ; iiberall forsclit
er nach Kunde von verborgener Weisheit. nach genaueren Aufschbissen"'
iiher das Geschick, welches am Ende der Zeiten den G<')ttern bestimnit
ist : denn dièses kennt auch er nur teilweise. -
Doch nicht nur der nnslillbare Wissensdrang des a grùbelnden Asen »
ist es, der den (iott zu diesen Wandernngen bewegt, sondern auch seine
rege Fiirsorge fur seine Schiitzlinge, die Menschen. iMeist zvvar thront
Allvater Wodan auf seineni goldenen IIochsitz,der hochragendenWarte",
die ihm weiten Blick iiber aile Welten gestattet, und lenkt von da aus in
iùrsorglicher Weisheit der Vôlker Geschicke; nur Frigga, seine
Gemahlin, teilt diesen Sitz mit ihm; keine andere Gottheit darf ihn
besleigen. Gar oft aber verlabt er seinen himmlischen Thron, um
imerkannt, in nnscheinbarer Verhiillung, die Menschen heimzusuchen,
der einzelnen Sinn und Herz zu prùfen. Als miider, hungriger und
diirstender W'anderer nimmt er znweilen das Gastrecht in Anspruch,
straftden Ungastlichen, belohnt den Gastlichen.
Auch ani Himmel wandert Wodan, der Luft- und Himmelsgott. Die
Milchstrafte'- ist Wodans Strafie, das Sternbild'^ des Wagens (oder des
grofien Ràren) heibt Wodans Wagen. Die Milchstrafte zieht er ein lier mit
dem wiitenden Heere wie mit der wilden Jagd.
Der Geist des dentschen Yolkes, der dentsche Nationalgeist solbst ist
es, der in Wodan, dem Gotte der Ilelden und der Dichter, dem
« griibelnden Asen », dem gôttlichen Wanderer, sich verkôrpert, feste,
gottliche Gestalt angenommen hat.
AVie Wodan den Sieg, das hochste Gut in den Augen des germanischen
Helden, verleiht"\ wie er dem Schiffer, der ihn anruft, den « Wnnsch-
wind B spendet, so ist er iiberhaupt der « Wunschgott », der den
6. r>ic nuncnschrift ist hergeleitet aus dem lateinisrhen Alphabet, das die Germanen
durfh die Kelten kecneu lernien. Jede Rime bedeiilele ein Wort, das mil dem belretfonden
Buchs'ahon begaun ; mau ritzle die Zeichen in Sliihchen von Buchenrinde (daher: Buclisiabeo).
— 7. haynetles magiqves — 8. dépouille de. — 9. déesses de lu Dei^linèe. — 10. ren-
seigneiiienlii. — 11. poule d'observation. — 12. voie lactée. — i;î. eonMellnlion du
Chariot. — 14. accorde.
[871' DEOTSCHEP. TEÎL lol
Menschen aile anderen erwûnschten Gaben verleiht. So segnet er aïs
Luit- und Himmelsgott auch den Landbau mit fruchtbarer Witterniig.
Als Schiachtengott ist er dem Baiier, desseii Saaten die Hul'e der Rosse
zerslampfen, dessen Haus iiiid Hof der Krieg in Flammen aulgehen lafit,
dessen Yieh ràuberische Feinde wegtreiben, furchtbar; zu Allvater
Wodan, dem Spender ailes Segens, auch des Erntesegens, aber blickt
auch der tleifiige Landmami voll Vcrtrauen empor.
Riimische Schriftsteller setzen den Wodan ihrera Gotte Merkurius, dem
griechischen Hermès, gleich, l'reilich mit Unrecht ; denn mag auch
Merkurius (Hermès) als Wunschgolt, als Gott der Kaufleute, als der Golt,
der die Seelen in die Unterwelt geleitet, an Wodan, den Wunschgott,
den Gott der Schiffahrt und des Handels, den Gott, der die Helden in
Walhall aufnimmt, erinnern, so reicht doch jener rômisch-griechische
Gott in keiner Weise an die erhabene Hoheit des allwaltenden deutsch-
nordischen Gôtterkônigs heran.
(Schlu/j.'j Nach J.angk.
Kûnstleranekdoten .
In einer Gesellschaft, in welcher sich auch Fraii Munkacsy, die Witwe
des berùhmten ungarischen Malers Michael v, Munkacsy, befand, gab
Massenet, der Komponist der Opern «Werther», «Manon», «Ariane»
und anderer, dieser Tage ans seinem reichen Anekdotenschatz eine
Anzahl amiïsanter Kiinstlergeschichten zum besten.Man sprach von Liszt,
und Massenet erzahlte, daft der grofie Virtuose vor Einladungen' eine
wahre Scheu - hatte, weil er immer fiirchtete, dal"^ man ihn autfordern
wùrde, sich ans Klavier zu setzen und etwas vorzuspielen : « Sie werfen
cincm ein Kotelett hin, » schimpfte er, « und sagen dann : Nun mnlU du
aber spielen ! — nein, das mâche ich nicht mit. » Auch Chopin haftte
das Spielen in Gesellschaften ; zu einer Dame, die ihn nach dem Essen
bat, etwas vorzutragen, sagte er wehmutig : « Mufi es denn sein, gnàdige
Frau ? Ich habe ja so wenig gegessen ! »
Im Anschlub an dièse Geschichten erzahlte Frau Munkacsy, wie es ihr
ein mal in London mit Rubinstein erging. Irgendeine vornehme Lady
woUte den Meister einladen und mit ihm etliche Prinzen und Diplomaten.
« Wenn er nur ahnt, dab Sie ihn auttordern, zu spielen, wird er bestimmt
nicht kommen, v sagte Frau Munkacsy zu der Lady ; « ich mufi ihm also
versprechen kônnen, dab man ihn nicht beliistigen wird. » — «Das Kla-
vier soll versteckt werden, ich schwôre es! » erwiderte die Gastgeberiu.
Rubinstein kam, und ailes ging vortrettlich. Das Klavier stand in einem
Winkel des grofien Salons hinter dem Kanapee und war «der Vorsicht
lialber» sogar noch mit Teppichen bedeckt worden. Nach dem Essen
naherte sich Rubinstein der Frau Munkacsy, die er von frùher her
kannte, und fragte : « Haben die denn hier kein Klavier?» — «Nein,
nein, lieber Freund. . . Oder doch, sie haben eins, aber man benutzt es
1. invitntions. — 2. répugnances.
152 UEUTSCHER TEIL [872j
nie ; ich glaiibe, es steht da drûben unter den Decken ...» Fûnf Minuten
spiiter sah Riibinstein am Klavier und spielte eiiie Stiinde lang.
Dièse Rubiiistein-Geschichte lenkte das Gespriich auf Geschichten von
Kùnstlerstolz und Kûnstlerhochmut, und Massenet erziihlte, daft Meis-
sonnier, der sehr eitel war, eines Tages, als nian ûber die kleinen Unan-
nehmlichkeiten des Lebens sprach, mit Stolz und oline die Miene zu
verziehen sagte : <> Meine Pédicure sagte mir lieiite fVïih : « Herr Meis-
sonnier, ein so schunes Hiilinerauge habe ich noch nie gesehen ! » Ein
Freund Meissonniers wollte ihm einnial eine Uberraschung bereiten ; er
fiihrte ihn an die Ecke der Strabe, in der er (Meissonnier) wohnte, und
zeigle ihm, dafi hier wàhrend der Nacht ein blaues Schild mit der
Inschrift : « Rue Meissonnier» angebracht worden war. Als Meissonnier
das sah, begann er vor Wut mit den Beinen zu strampehi und schrie :
« Die Halunken^ ! Mit ihrer Hue Meissonnier haben sie mich um den Bou-
levard Meissonnier gebracht * ! »
3. (jueux. — 4. briugeu... uni, priver de.
(<()itKfifd)c Â>df(t(l)fctt.
2Blmiu jeinaub in Gliimi luul) bcm ÎBcç]e fi"ai]t, fo luirb er fid) nicmalo au ben
33ctrcffcnbcn * in plinnpor 2iVn|c lueiibcii uiib biroît fragcii. ÎCenii ein
„taftlofcr" 'Kcijcnbcr co tim follte, fo uniube ber ^aiibmann [ic^ ucnuiitlid) - a\\-
[tclicn ' aie Dcritilnbc er itjn nid)t, nnb ber Shnfenbc luivb jeincn ÎBcçi |ort[elu^n
mit ber ftiUen 23cmerîinu], iuie bumui biefe JL^anbbeiioItei-nn(^ ift, uciluiinbcrt
bariibci", luie fd}Ied)t fcine eic3cnc djinefifdie 5Inéfprad)c ift.
jcbcr nbeu, ber jcine l^Mite fcnnt, ob eingebuuen '' obcr ficinb, uiirb foUjcn^
bermafjen jn ÎBcrte ûcl]cn :
«Diciii altérer il3rnber, ber h\\ eine fd)Uiere îiiaft tiaijft", ober „(Sl)rluurbitjer
£)nîeï, ber hw beim ©raômalien befdjdfticjt bift, id) luage eS, bid) jn ftbren; td)
mbdjte iwm flelben 3^elfen=!ïltarttfleden i]el)en ; ift bac^ ber redjte ÎOeg V"
„(San,^ red^t," fagt bann ber 6l)inefe, „t]eiie gerabcauS Uieiter" nnb Derïd^t
feiuen SKecj fiir einitje Sd)ritte, um beu grembeu auf bem feinitjen jn bcgïeiten.
„®er liere[}rte Sdjiiler îommt non ©luatmnV" fdl)rt er fort.
,,'^Qi, oere^rter Dnfeï, mir )]<xhtn ©matom oor brei S^agen oerlaffen."
„5l^," ruft er au§,„ mie ïïug hi\ bift, nub mie tïar bu fprid)ft I"
„3(| mage nidjt bein tUombliment au5nnet)men ; idj ï)abe bief) gefti)rt •' nnb
bemiif)t,"
„!i)OU ©tornug jn fpred)en !" ermibert er, „ba§ finb aber 5ïnôbriid'e ! Sebe
mot)t nnb gel)e ïaugfam I l'ebe moljl I"
„!debc motjl !" ermibert man, ba fid) jeber bemiiljt, ha?:) leljte l]bf(id)e 3Bort ^n
fagen.
1. ben ©efragten. — 2. iDat;ïf(^etnltd^. — :î. fid) aiiftellen := tun nl§ ob. — 4. iudigèue.
5. dérangé.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 20. 20 Juillet 1908. 8« Année,
DEUTSCHER TEIL
Gtnc mc^c ï>cê ^aifcrê.
Scï .Raiier ^ieït am 23. ^\xxn auf bev „ C^eana ", loo cr bie Sevteilung bei; ^stcife bev
llntevelbeîSîegatta tionial^m, tu gïiDtbevitng auf eiucu %oaît beô §am6utger C6erfaurger=
meifter-j ®r. Sufijatb, ber fiir ciue QJei-tiefuuj uub SJerbreitetuuçj bc§ gatjrtDûfferë ber
Êlbe etutrat ', folgenbe îlniprac^e :
3(^ Mtte, meineu ^erjlicfifteu Sauf fur bie fc^onen unb fc^mungliotleu- 2Borte, bie
lt)ir foeèen geijort [)aï)en, auëfprecficii ,311 bitrfeiu 2(ud^ ic^ tnôc^te meinerfeitê an biefer
©telle eiu ÏÏSort luefjiniitiger ' unb banfbarer Srinnerung bem 9Jtanne fpenben, bem
£ie foebeii in unferer DJlitte ein ®eiifmal gefeljt f)a6en. 3cf) incinerfeits luerbe niemaîê
bie tyreunbli(ï)feit, bie o^rift^e unb haè ^ugenbUifie in bem g{)Qraïter ®r. SDlonctebergê
Dergeffen, ber micï) oft ^ier empfangeu unb begriiBt ^at. Unb i^ ginube, in '^^'^^y. aller
©inné 3U fprec^en, fôenn ic^ Derfid^ere, bafe loir i^n nie^tOergeffen merben, ben 3^drbercr
unb Éegeifterten g^reunb be^S ©portée, unb ha^ loir fein Slnbenfen in (£f)ren f)a(ten,
unb fo oft luir unô fjier ocrfammeln, im ©titten feiner gebenfen uierben. 2ie ©efc^iif}te
,s^amî)urgê auf bem 233affer ift foeben Don Oerufener^ ©eite gefiïjilbert inorben, unb
ÎÔort unb a^ilb fjat fie im beutftfien 9}o(f beïannt gemad)t. 3c^ glaube, in bem Saufe
ber 3toan3ig 3af)re meiner 3tegierung, mci^renb meiner Dielfa^en Sefucfje im §ambur=
ger §afen unb auf ber ©Ï6e beo(iadf;tet jn fiaûen, bas bie ^uroe bec §anbelê unb
58erïe'^r§, loie ûberaE in 5)entfd}[anb, fo uor atlen Singi-n in biefem grofien Smporium-'
ftettg in bie $)of)e ge()t.
©euiiB, meine §erren, mir aEe, entlneber aU Seefa^rer ober alô ©portsieute, fennen
ha^ Sarometer. @â fteigt, eê finft auc^ unb Oerfoigt oerfrf;iebene Sinien. SBenn ober bie
©pi^en, bie eê im ©teigen unb {Jaiïen befc^reibt, nun im odgemeinen eine auffteigenbe
^uroe ergeben, baun fcf)abet eê nic^të, menu bajmifc^en au($ mal tiefere Siiler tiegen.
©ie finb bas unoermeiblicf)e " -Korrelat fiir ben 3lnffc^iining. Sûir erteôen ha?:> aucf) im
©port5(e6en. IBalb brdngen fid^ bie ^acfjten in SOtenge jum 3ie(, Palb erf(^einen fie
tneniger ja^IreicE). 9îeue SBerec^nungen, neue 23ermeffungen '' Deranlaffcn 3um SSarten,
unb mttfrifcf;er ^raft nac^ bem ©tubium ber neuen ©efel^e inerben bann bie ^ac^ten
mieber 3af)lrei(5 am 3iel erfc^einen. ^c^ ïann mirjoofjt benïen, ha!ià in ber Wiitt ber
©portêleute, bie fiente f)ier auf bem 2Ba|fer \\6) getummett fiabeu, fo mancf)eê lueife
ipaupt fi^t, beffen S)enten unb Strbeiten nii^t nur fiir i^n, fein .Çauê unb feine
Dîeeberei, fonbern auc^ fiir hai 2)eutfcf}e 3tei(^ unb ha^:, beutfd)e 93oIf Don 9hi|en ift,
unb in bem ©ebanfen 3taum finben môgeu ii6er bie gufuuft unfereê Saterlanbeô,
foloeit fie feine fo luicÇtige finan3ieïïe Crbnung betrifft. 9htn, meine §erren, bie 23afiô
ift getegt ; bie f^am finb aufgefteïït unb has, f)amburgifd;e Slut, ha^ in ben 3lbern
unferes anégejeii^ueten unb ï]0(ï)nere:^rten :$?an3ler'j flieBt, mirb ^{]Wi\\ garantieren,
ha^ ber 5(ufbau fiir bie 9îei(î)âfinan3reform rationett, gefunb unb fiir baâ 9îeii:^
1. réclama. — 2. enthousiaste?. — 3. mélancolique. — 4. compélect. — 5. marché.
— 6. inévitable. — 1. calculs, évaluations.
[115] ALUM. 20
lo'l DEUTSGHER TEIL [914]
3toectbien(t(ï) iein mirb. ®ev Wcann, ber itjm juv Seite ftef)t, uevbtent ^i)x uolleê
aSertraucn unb baô beê 93aterlanbeê. 2i5û5 geplant ift, ntufe noc^ ©eî)eimnis bleibeu
unb barf niiî)t gei'ntjt luerben. a}ieEei(î)t fcinn, luenn ii$ beit ©lïiteier etiimâ lûften
foll, fur bicjeuigen, bie nic^t eerfieiratet finb, eitie Siintjgefeaenfteuer « jum 2}orfc^ein
ïommen. SBeftimmt ift e§ abex noc^ nid^t. (©rofee §eiterfeit.)
9iun, metne §erren, mb(î|te ic^ meinen ®anî auf bem ©tïiiffe ^ter nic^t beenbigen,
D'elle îtoc^ einmaï jurùd.îublicïen auf bie btei ïievrlic^en Sage, bie ic^ in ber ©tabt
§am6urg ï)a6e uerleben bixrfeu. 3f)re ^Jtajeftat bie ^aifeviu :^at mi(^ noc^ èefonberâ
te(egrapï)if(ï) gebeten, iï)ren geriifirten S)anï fiir aUe Siebe unb {yreuublic^teit ber
hamburger auêjufprecfien, unb ic^ mbcfite noc^ einmaï ^ier, mo fo toiele hamburger
tierfammelt finb, auf einem hamburger ©coiffe aud^ bon meiner ©eite au§ »erfi(ï)ern,
toie tief ergriffen ic^ geu^efen bin Ijon ber §altung ber Seuolîerung unb Don bem
Slbenb auf ber 3((fter. 5n§ iâ) micf) fragte, mo ber ©runb fïir biefen ÎUiêbrud) ber
SBegeifterung liege, ba erfc^adte fpontan, erft aUmablicf), bann immer miicfitigfr
anfdjmedenb, unfer alteé beutft^eô Sturmtieb. 5hin muBte icb genug. 53lcine .<r-)erren,
iâ) banïe S^nen bafiir, icf) i)abt ©ie Derftanben. ©3 mar ber Srucf ber 3^reunbe5()anb
einem 5!)tanne, ber entfc^toffen fetnen SBeg gef)t, unb ber meife, bafe er jemanben I)inter
ficfi f)at, ber i^n oerftef)t, unb ber if)m ï)elfen mU. ®ic hamburger unb it^, tnir
Derftefien une, unb fo frcue ti^ micf) benn, and) am beutigen Slage mieberum ba§ ÏÔof)l
bec 9îorbbentf(ï)en 9îcgattaiiereinâ, in bem fo ineïe anëge^eicbnete .sjamburger nertrcten
finb, auëbringen 3U biirfen. 9Jtôge ber ©port bliibcn, moge ftd^ ber 3lorbbeutfd)c
giegattaoerein ineiter entmidteln unb ebenfo ber §amburgcr Çanbel unter bem ©cbu^c
eineS ef)renî)aft bett)a()rten g^riebenê, ben unfer .'peer unb unfere 5!)larine Pcrbxtrgen ^
toerben, .«pamburg fotl leben : §urra, leurra, ^urra !
8. impôt sur les célibataire*. — 0. garanlif.
Der Wein als Kulturpflanze.
li
Von grofier Itultnrhistorischer Bedeutung sind die Wanderungen dor
edlen Rebe nach Westen gewesen. Wahrcnd die Morgenrôte einer liôheren
KuUur langst iiber dem Orient aufgegangen wur, lagerte iiber Europa noch
die Nacht der Barbarei. Den Coden von Hellas betrat die Rebe schon vor
dem Beginne der griechiscben Gescbichte, so dal'; die Griechen seibst die
Einfùhrung des Weinbaues von einem Gott emptangen zn haben glaubten.
In den bomerischen Geiiicbten ist der Wein bereils das gewOhnlicbe Getrjink,
ein Lebensbediirlnis fiir arm uiid rcieli. Mit dem liebenswiirdigen und
poetischen Natioiialcharakter des hollenischen Volkes barmonierte der
geistige Trank, dei- Anregimg, FrObliclikeit, Geselligkcit zu verbreiten
vermag. Die Griecben tranken nie Wein, bevor sie ibn nicht mit Wasser
verdiinnt hatlen ; der Wein verflocbt sicb so innig mit allen Beziehungen
ihres biiuslicben, Otfentliclien und rcligiusen Lebens, daii wir ibn als Rcprii-
sentanten hellenischer Bildung betrachlen konnen. Bald verbreitete sicb die
Rebe aucb nach Italien und gedieh bier so iippig, da& bereits Sopliokles
Unteritalien das Lieblingsland des Baccbus nennen konnte. Zu Plinius Zeiten
nabm Italien den ersten Rang unter den Weinlàndern ein. Bei dem mate-
riellen Sinne der Rômer steigerte sicb der AVeingenuii zum Unmafi; man
trank im Gegensalz zu den Griecben ungemiscbten Wein, man kiiblte ilm
mit Eis und setzte ihm Gewiirze zu. Die kostbarsten ausiândisclien Weine
[915] DEUTSCHER TEIL 155
wurden importiert, und von den einheimischen setzte man uralte Jahrgange
auf den Tisch ; es ist charakteristisch, daB in demselben V^erhâltnis, wie
Italien von seiner polilisclien Grôfie berabsank, aucli seine ^Veine schlechler
wurden; dasselbe Land, welches einst seine Tat'eln tnit 200jahrigem Wein
schniûckle, vei-mag heute den Uberflufs seiner Weine nicbt auszut'iibren,
weil derselbe sich kaum ein Jahr in den Fiaschen hait, obwohl man ibn, um
die Einwirkung der Luft zu verhindern, mit 01 abzuscblieHien pflegt. Nach
(iallien iind (iermanien kam der Weinstock erst, nacbdem Jiilius Casar
Gallien zur romischen Provinz gemacht nnd mit seinen Legionen sich auch
rOmische Kultur dort niedergelassen batte. Als sich dann un ter der
Herrschaft der Rômer ganz Frankreich und Sûddeutscbland von der Donau
bis zum Rhein und der bahn in einen bliihenden Garten verwandeit und mit
reichen Stadten und geschmackvollen \'illen ubersal waren, indenen Kunst
und Wissenschaft bliihten, da erhoben sich allerorts zwischen den Getreide-
feldern und den Obstgarten ancb die Weinberge, da griinle und blùhte der
Weinstock, der Begleitcr der Kultur. Alsaber die Flulen der Vdlkerwaiiderung
sich liber Enropa ergossen, da wurden auch die Schopfungen griechischer
und romischer Kultur vou dem Vandalismus roher Horden wieder vernichlet-
Indem dann das Christentum die Errungenschaften ' des jiidischen und
hellenischen Geisteslebens in sich bewahrte, iibernahm es die Aufgabe, die
Naturvulker zu zivilisieren, die sich auf den Statten der zerslurten KuKiir
niedergelassen halten, und da es den Wein unter seine geheiliglen Mysterien
aufgenommen batte, so nahmes auch den Weinbau unter seinen Schutz und
breilete ibn iiber neue Gebiete ans.
iMit dem Mittelalter bat sich das Gebiet der Rebe eher verkleinert als
vergrôÊert. Vormals bliihcnde Weinlânder am Mittelmeer haben, dem Yerbote
des Koran gehorsam, den Anbau der Rebe aufgegeben oder doch iuifierst
eingeschriinkt, auch im Norden hat sie sich iibcrall zurïickgezogen. Im
Mittelalter waren die Normandie, die Bretagne und Siidengland Weinlânder,
beute wird in diesen Lilndcrn kein Tropfen Wein mehr gewonnen. Dieselbe
Erfahrung haben wir in Deiitscbland. Brandenburg, Pommern, Sachsen, die
Laiisilz^, Westfalen und Thiiringen, die ehemals Handel mit ihren Weinen
trieben, machen iJingst keinen Ansprnch mehr darauf, zu den Weinlandern
zu zahlen. Man bat hieraus schliefien wollen, dali sich das Klima in diesen
Landern verschlechtert habe ; doch wnrden vermutlich ancb damais die
Trauben nur in besonders guten .Jahren reif, nnd zii anderer Zeit begniigte
man sich, den vaterlandischen Hebensaft durch Verschneiden unddurcb
Verbessern trinkbar zu machen. Heute denkt niemand daran, mit groliei-
Miihe einen unsicheren Erfolg und ein ungeniefibares Prodiikt zu erziehen,
das man von auswarts billiger bezieheii kann.
Es gibt wohl keine bezeichnendere Charakteristik fur das derbe-\ un ver -
wôhnte Geschlecht, das damais in den Bnrgen von Prenfsen und der Mark
hauste. als dafî sie den Wein trinken konnten, den sie auf ihren eigenen
Giitern gezogen hatlen. Es scheint, dafi der Weinbau durch die Reblaiis^
und die vielen Krankheiten des Rebstockes, die gefahrlichen Pilze •', bald noch
mehr zuriickgehen wird, denn der Landmann rechnet lieber mit dem
ziemlich sichern Ertrag eines Ackers als mit den hôchst unsicheren eines
Wein berges.
Noch heute wie auch vor Jahrtausenden ist der Wein der Freimd nnd der
Gesellschafter des Menschen, der unentbehrliche« Genosse bei jedem Feste,
der die Stimmung erhôht, die Geister erregt, die Herzen nahert und Gesel-
ligkeit und Lebensfrendigkeit um sich her verbreitet. Darum liebten es aile
Volker, aile Alter, Herz und Geist zu erwarmen an dem herriichen Labe-
trunke.
1. conquêtes. — 2. Lusace. — 3. rude. — 4. phylloxéra. - 5. champmom. -
6. indispensable.
im
OEDTSCHKR TFÎL
916]
In den Landern, wo der Wein das gewôhnliche Getrânk ist, daisl auch der
Nationalcharakter liebenswardiger, geselliger, heiler ; man braucht nur
Frankreich und England oder Sud-nnd Norddeutschland zii vergleichen. Vor
allem die Griechen, das genialste Volk, das je aiif Erden gelebt, waren es
sich ain innigsten bewufjt, da6 des Weines Tugend nicht blofi in dem
sinnlichen Vergniigen beruhe, sondern darin, daft er vor allem den Geist
empfanglicher mâche fiir das Schone und Poetische. Dariim war ihnen
Dionysos, der Gott des Weines, zngleich ein Kulturgott; sie nannten ihn
Erlôser, wie die Griechen ihre Befreier nannten, und das Fest des Dionysos
wurde nicht blofi durch frôhliche, sinnige Prozessionen gefeiert, sondern
auch durch einen Wettkampf der schonen Kiinste.
Die Geschichte lehrt uns in mancherici Beispielen, dafs aile liôheren
Formen der Poésie, das Drama, die Tragôdie, die Komtidie und die Posse ',
der Chorgesang und die Hymne aus dem Dionysoskultus hervorgegangen
sind ; die unsterblichen Werke von Àschylos, Sophokles, Euripides,
Aristophanes sind zur Feier der athenischen Winzerfeste geschrieben und
ausgefïihrt worden. Ùberhaupt bestand von jeher elne geheime Sympathie
zwischen den Dichtern und dem Weine, und es hat vom Vater llomer an
bis anf unsere Zeit wohi noch keinen Poeten gegeben, der nicht einmal eine
Variante gedichtet hiitte zu des Konigs Davids liebenswi'irdigem Sprnch :
« Der Wein erfrent des Menschen Herz ! » Die Zahl der Wein-undTrinklieder
in alien Znngen ist Légion, und unter ihnen lenchten gar manche Perlen,
die schonsten darnnter aneinandergereiht von dem geistesverwandten
Dichtergreisen Anakreon, Hatis, Goethe. So schlingt der Wein seine
Arabesken durch die heiteren Blâtter der Literatiir, wie durch die ernsten
Tafeln der Weltgeschichte und zeigt sich uns als ein Mitbildncr der Knltur.
[Haus, Hof und Garten.)
7. farce.
9îrtd) î^ctii @cU»ittcr.
6rft cbeii S)oiincr(]erollc
3n flammciibeu ÏOoltoiiid)(arf)t,
lliib luiii bio -viubeiDoUc,
Êê \loi)en bie 9hi{)efti3rer
S)co %a%QQ lun- i()r t)in,
ÎBie bie be[ief;tcn gmpijrer
"iUn- if)rcr .fUiniflin.
3.
-ôell fd)iuimmt im SBaîJciÎpiegeï
2^ec gnnje •s^iinmelobom —
(Bè brûcft feiii Stcvnciiftegel
l^cï •sMiuinef niif bcii ©trom.
litciiv iiiatt aiii Ç^iinmclofaiime
ÎL'cudjtct'â iiod) ab imb ,yt ',
2Bie fid) bcr ($ei|t im 5li-aiune
Viod) rcflt iii (Sd)ïûfeêrii^.
rvvicbrirfj 33obenftebt.
1. hann uub luaun.
Der arme Musikant und sein KoUege.
An einen) schonen Sommertage war im Prater zu Wien ein grol'^es
Volksfest. Viel Volk strônite hinaus, iind jiing und ait, vornehm und
[917] DEDTSCHER TEIL 157
gering ', freute sich dort seines Lebens ; aiich viele Fremde kamen uiid
erfreuten sich an der Yolkslust. Es waren auch hier eine Menge Bettler,
Orgehîianner-, Bliimenmadchen u. dgl.^ die sich ihren Kreuzerzuverdie-
nen suchteu.
[n Wien lebte damais ein Invalide, dem seine kleine Pension zuni
Unterhalt nicht ausreichte. Betteln mochte er nicht. Er gritî daher zur
Yioline, die er vonseinem Yater, einem Bôhmen, erlernt hatte. Er spielte
unter einem alten Baum im Prater, und seinen treuen Piidel hatte er so
abgerichtet^ daft das Tier vor ihm safi und seines Herren alten Hut im
Maule hielt, damit die Leute die paar Kreuzer, die sie ihm geben wollten,
hineinwiïrfen. Heute stand er auch da undliedelte^ ; aberdie Leute gingen
vorilber, und der Hut blieb leer. iïâtten sie den Musikanten nur einmal
angesehen, sie hàtten Barmherzigkeit '^ mit ihm haben miissen. Dûnnes,
weiftes Haar deckte kaum seinen Schadel;ein alter, fadenscheiniger'' Sol-
datenmantel war sein Kleid. Nur drei Finger an der rechten Hand hielten
den Bogen. Eine KartàtschenkugeP hatte die zvvei andern bei Aspern mit-
genommen, und fast zu gleicher Zeit eine grôftere Kugel das Bein. Aber
heute sahen die frohlichen Leute nicht auf ihn, und er hatte doch fïu'
den letzten Kreuzer Saiten auf seine Yioline gekauft und spielte mit aller
Kraft seine alten Miirsche und Tànze. — Traurig sah der alte Mann auf
die wogende^Menschenmenge, auf ihre frohlichen Gesichter, auf diestolze
Pracht ihres Putzes. Bei ihrem Lachen drang ein Stachel in seine Seele
— heut abend m ulUe er hungern auf seinem Strohlager im Dachstûbchen .
Sein Pudel war in der Tat besser dran ; er fand doch vielleicht auf dem
Heimwege unter einem Rinnsteine einen Knochen, woran er seinen
Hunger stillen konnte.
Schon wars ziemlich spiit am Nachmittage. Des Invaliden Hotfnung
war so nahe am Untergange wie die Sonne; denn schon kehrten die Lust-
wandler "* zurûck. Da legte sich ein recht tiefes Leid auf das vernarbte '^
Gesicht. Als endlich ailes fruchtlos blieb und die mïide Hand den Bogen
nicht mehr fûhren konnte, auch sein Bein ihn kaum mehr trug, setzte er
sich auf einen Stein und stûtzte die Stirn in die hohie Hand^ und ein
paar belle Trànen rannen zur Erde nieder.
Ein stattlich '- gekleideter Herr aber, der dort am Stamme der alten
Linde lehnte, hatte den unglùcklicheu Musikanten schon eine Zeitlang
mit innigem'^ Mitleid betrachtet, zuletztauch gesehen, wie die verstiim-
melte'^ Hand die Tranen abwischte, damit das Auge der Welt sie nicht
siihe. Dem Zuschauer wars, als ob die Trànen ihm selbst wie siedend
heifie Tropfen aufs Herz gefallen wàren; er trat rasch herzu, reichte dem
Alten ein Goldstûck und sagte : « Leihet mir Euer Yiolon ein Stûndchen ! »
Der Alte sah voll Dankes den Herrn an, der mit derdeutschen Spracheso
holprig'= umging wie er mit der Geige. Was er aber wollte, verstand der
Invalide doch und reichte ihm das Instrument. Eswarnun so schlecht
nicht; nur der gewôhnliche Geiger kratzte so iibel. Der fremde Herr
stimmte"' es glockenrein, stellte sich ganz nahe zu dem Invaliden und
sagte : «Kollege, nun nehmt Ihr das Geld, und ich spiele ! » — Damit ting
er an zu spielen, daft der Alte seine Geige neugierig ^' betrachtete und
1. humbles. — 2. joueurs d'orgue. — 3. und dergleichen. — 4. dressé. — 5. spielte.
— 6. pitié. — 7. rdpé. — 8. cartouche à mitraille. — 9. mouvante. — 10. prome-
neurs. — U. couvert de cicatrices,. — 12. richement. — 13. licfem. —14. estropiée.
— 13. rudement. — 16. accorda. — 17. curieusement .
lo8 DEUTSCHBR TEIL [918]
meinte, sie sei es gar nicht inelir; denn es klang so liell wie lauter Peiien,
nnd der Ton drang wunderbar in die Seele. Manchmal wars, als jubi-
lierten Engelstimmen, iind dann wieder, als klagten Tône schweren
Leideiis ans der Geige, die das Herz so bewegten, dafi die Augen feucht
wiirden .
Jetzt blieben die Lente stehen nnd sahen den vornehmen Herrn an und
horchten auf die wnndervollen Tône : jeder sahs, der Mann geigte lur den
Armen, aber niemand kannte ihn. Immer grôfter ward der Kreis der
Zuhôrer. Selbst die KiUschen der Reichen hielten an. Und was die
Hanptsache war, jedermann sali ein, was der kunstreicbe Fremde
beabsichtigte, und gab reichlich. Da liel Gold nnd Silber in den Hut und
auch Kupfer, je nachdem das Herz und die Bôrse war. Der Pudel knurrte.
Wars Yergniigen oder Arger'^ ? Er konnte den Hut nicbt mehr halten, so
schwer war er geworden. «Macbt ibn leer, Alter ! » riefen die Leute deni
Invaliden zu, « er wird noch einmal voll ! » Der Alte tats, und richtig ! er
niuP.te ihn noch einnial leeren in den Sack, in den er die Violine zu
stecken pflegte. Der Fremde stand da mit leuchtenden Augen und spielte,
daft ein Bravo ûber das andere schallte. Aile Welt \var entzûckt. Endlich
ging der Geiger in die priichtige Mélodie des Liedes : « Gott erhalte Franz
den Kaiser ! » ûber. Aile Hiite und Mûtzen flogen von den Kôpfen ; denn
die Usterreicher liebten ihren edeln Kaiser Franz von ganzem Herzen,
nnd er verdiente es auch ; allgemach '^ wurde der Yolksjubel so grob, dali
plôtzlich aile Leute das Lied sangen. Nurder Geiger spielte in dergrôMen
Begeisterung, bis das Lied zu Ende war ; dann legte er rasch die Geige in
des Gliïcklichen Schob, nnd ehe der alte Mann ein Wort des Dankessagen
konnte, war der Virtuose fort.
« Wer war das? » rief das Volk. — Da trat ein Herr vor und sagte : « Ich
kenne ihn sehr wohl, es war der ausgezeichnete Geiger Alexander Bou-
cher, welcher hier seine Kunst im Dienste der Barmherzigkeit ûbte. Er
lebe hoch ! » « Hoch ! hoch ! hoch ! » rief das Volk. Und der Invalide fal-
tete seine Hànde und betete : a Herr, belohne du's ihm reichlich ! »
Und ich glaube, es gab an dieseni Abende zwei Glïickliche mehr in
Wien. Der eine war der Invalide, der nun weithin seiner Notenthoben -°
war; und der andere war Boucher, dem sein Herz ein Zeugnis gab, um
das man ihn l)eneideii -' môchte.
iS. dépil. — 19. peu à peu. — 20. délivré. — 21. envier.
Aïiittig Cffav von Scfitoctxii.
5Uicr niittcn im .s^erbft fann c§, ©ott fei 2)anf, nitrf) g^riUjtinç] fein !
Setrad)tet nitr bie bid)ten 23ii-ten im ^aiiu @ie o,ei}tn ,yir Dîutjc in bcr langen
ïiefjc bic l'iev anbcvu Sciïc.
[919] DEUTSCHER TEIL , 159
2Bintemacf)t, jufuieben mit il^iem ©ommerleben ; benn fie lioffen, ha^,
iiacf)bem ber ÎBinter ûU'jt]era[t i)at, eùie miïbere Suft, cine t)errtic^ere ©onne,
cin t)t't)verei- ©cfaiu] aie hivi Jpeulcn beS ■§cr6ftftitrmeô fie 511 neuem i'eben, 311
iieiicu ©eniiffeii erlyetfcn iiDerben. llnb bas ift itir î'eben, biefer iuiauf^ôrli<:§e
2Berf)fe( Don ®eburt unb îlergangitiy, uon Seben unb îob.
llnb luir ? 3Bir, bic oft unbûnîbar fitib, luenn baè ©efdjid une -S^inberniffe in
ben 2Beg Icgt, luir, bie ïcir ben 9iatfd)Iag ber ^Borfe^uncî tabeln unb une i^m
)mberfe|;en unb oft ûuâ felbftfingen ©riinben nn§ eine SBeït fc^affen WoUen,
bie Uiir fiir beffer fialten. 3ii tr)eld)em ©ebanfen gelangen luir?
^ft nxd)t bie iuu1}ciBuiu], loeldje in nnferen •'per^en ,^ur 9lnferfte^uni] unb
jum îQcn'^e niebercjeletjt ift, nari) bem ■'perbfte beô Sebens unb bem SBinter beô
©rûbeâ, ift biefe nid)t ciel lueifer unb befctiijenber alo bie 3}er[)ei§ung eineô
anberen ©efc^bpfeê in bem 9îeic^e ber 'Jhttur? ^;>aben tt)ir nic^t bie ®at)e
ert)a(ten, une loie ber .spain ju gruppieren nub gemeinfam ben 2Beg beê SebenS
in ^ingebung unb g^reunbfdjcift ju itiaubcrn ? Unb ift biefe (§a6e nid)t me§r
ipert aU incïeS anbere, inao bie 2[Be(tmeufd)en nufd)at;bar nennenv D, ineofjalb
ner^meifetn luir benn v Xer 9^rii[)ïing nad) bem ÏBinter be^j ©rabeê luirb nie
flir unâ Uerget)en ; benn er ift eiuig unb unUergdnglidj.Œr ift l)errlid)er aie aile
irbifd)en 2en5e. S)ie Sonne ift ©ott, unb luir finb ®ugeï bort.
©oUten luir nic^t glauben, baf? bie |Jreunbfd)aft, iue(d)e luir bier gefii()It
i]abtn, un§ and) bort foïgen luerbe ? ©oUten luir ntd)t glaubeu, baf; fie bort
nod) ftiirter aie (jier fein luerbe ? ^a, bie (yreunbfc^aft, lueldje Ulenfdien in ber
3eit uereinigtc, ludbreub iueld)er luir (ebten unb auf uerfd)iebenen 93at]nen
nac^ bemfelben 3ieï geftrebt unb gearbeitet f)û6en, fie ift am 3iel geiuintic^
nod^ uor^ûuben, uub fie luirb an einem befferen Sen5C5morgen hn einem (lerr-
Iid)eren ^^riiblingStieb in ben eluigen Cenjunè fotgen unb bie befte Srinnerung
fein, bie luir uou ciuein uergaugenen Êrbenlebeu, uon ciner falten ^erbft^eit
befitien.
Deutsche Redensarten.
1. Einen Bock schieBen.
An einen Relibock ' oder eiii àhnliches Tier ist jjei dieser Redensart
keineswegs zu denken, iind die oft gehôrte Meiimng, die Redensart sel
auf einen Jager zuriïckziifùhren, der statt der Rehgeifi einen Relibock
oder gar statt eines Wildes einen Ziegenbock geschossen habe, ist eine
ganz irrtïunliche-. Unler deni Bock ist vielmehr der sogenannte Purzel-
bock ^ oder Piirzelbaum geraeint, den Kinder gar oft zur Bekistigung
schielien, und unter schiefien ist nur die schnelle, vorwarts stûrzende
Bevvegunggemeint, die dabei statttindet, wie man denn z. B. von einem
eilig Davonlanfenden sagt : « er schiefit davon, » wie Pilze ans der Erde
schiei'^en oder Nvie der Salât und Spargel im Garten schiefit oder, wie
man aiich sagt, scholit, emporscholH. Auch an das Zeitwort h bocken »
1. chevreuil. — -2, fausse. — 3. culbute.
160 DEUTSCHER TEIL [920]
ist zu erinnern. Die Kiih bockt, wenn sie in der Weise eines Bockes
mit gesenktem Kopfe vorwarts springt. Ein Purzelbock wird ùbrigens
nicht immer mit Absicht^ geschossen, wiees bei spielenden Kindern der
Fali ist, sondern ebenso oftgeschieht es unwillkûrlich % und zu der ùber-
tragenen Bedentung « einen Fehier machen » konnte der Ausdruck ebenso
leicht kommen wie andere àhnliche, z. B. ûber etwas stolpern% mit
etwas hineinfallen, einen Fehltritt tun, ins Fettnapfchen treten.
2. Ûber die Kiinge springen lassen.
Man hat allen Ernstes^ behauptet, es sei bei Hinrichtungen * ver-
urteilter Soldaten Sitte^ gevvesen, sie iiber das Schwert springen zu
lassen, mit dem sie dann bingerichtet wurden. Man hat eben nicht die
entsetzliche Naturwahrheit und den grausamen Humor verstanden, der
in dieser Redensart liegt. Der ûber die Kiinge Springende ist kein
anderer als der abgeschhigene Kopf. Bei Luther heifit es einmal : « die
ihm den Kopfhatten iiber eine kaite KUiige lassen hûpfen; » und in
einem altdeutschen Fastnachtsspiele "^ heibt es : « dein houpt muob dir
ïibereiii swertskiingen hopfen. »
3 Die Stange " haiten.
Jemand die Stange haiten hcilH : ihn iii Schutz nehmen, ihn unter
widerlichen Yerhiiitnissen nicht ganz unterliegen '- lassen. Man kann einer
Partei die Stange haiten, wenn man sie mit der Tat oder auch nur mit
dem Worte untcrstiitzt, wie denn z. B. in Lessings Nathan (IV, 1) der
Tempelherr sagt :
« Ueligion ist auch Partei ; und wer
Sich (Iroh auch noch so unijarteiiscii glaubt,
Hiilt, ohn' es selbst zu wissen, docii nur seiner
Die Stange. »
Der Ursprung dieser Redensart ist in derZeit der Turniere'^ zu suchen,
bei denen das Slangehallen zuin Amtdcr Grieswarte, d. i.'*^der Aufseher
bei den auf dem grieze = Sande slattlindenden Turnierkàmpfen
gehôrte. Wie der Grieswart dal)ei iiberhaupt daraui" zu sehen batte,
dafi die Turnierregehî in allen Slûcken beobachtet'-^ wurden, so war es
namentlich seine Aulgabe, wenn einer der Kiimpfer gefallen war, eiiie
Stange zum Schutze iiber ihn zu haiten oder auch vermittelst der Stange
allzu erbitterte'*^ Kàmpfer voneinander zu scheiden.
(Sprachhcli und kuUurgescliichtlich erliiutert von Albert Richter. Leipzig, 1889.)
4. à dessein. — 5. involontairemeni. — G. trébucher. — 7. très sérieusement. — "8.
exécutions. — 9. coutume. — 10. jeu de carnaval (farce). — H. la perche. — 12.
succomber. — 13. tournois. — 14. das ist, c'est-à-dire. — 15. observées. — 16. acharnés.
INHALTSVERZEICHNIS
DEUTSGHER TEIL
I. — Aus der Tagesgeschichte.
Seilen.
Verniischle Nachrichten . . .
y, 25, 120, 121, 132
2)er .Çiaï]ex in ©ngïaitb H3
Ser beutfc^e Dieicfiêfan^Icr ûber
bie aiiêuidrtige ^olitif .... 43
Tolstois Lcbensweise(-yeWmf r
Tageblatt) o"
Die Vereinigten Slaatcn von
Brasilien (Prof. D-- A. Fis-
cher) 66, 74, 84, 92
,S'onig Karïoè non '^-'ovtinjaï itnb
ber 2;[)ïDufolQer ermorbet. . . 73
Musikalisches ans Dresden
(E.-Th. Schilsky) 78
©in beiitfcfier ^^riiij in ^^attê . . 81
Sie cjclbe ©efal)r ....... 81
2ie le^te 2o(ï)tcr 6f)ami|ioQ. . . 85
Ein VoUvsliederriind 89
5)ie auêuniftige ^^olitif ®eittïc()=
laubè 97
3tnfimft be§ beutf d^en ^aiferpaaveê
in 33evïin 113
5)ie Simueifjung ber §of)fiJnigê=
burg 129
^rdfibent {yattièreè in @ng(anb . 137
S)ie Soafte non 9îeual 139
Der Besuch des Schweden-
konigs in Berlin 140
@ine 3îebe beô JÎQifev§ 153
II. — Kleine GeschichLen, Er-
zàhlungen, Biographien, Le-
genden, Novellen, Beschrei-
bungen, usw.
fiiebcrfi^idiale 1
Der Prerdekaiif (Rudolf Braune-
Roûla) 2, 10, 18
Seiten,
Sie ©entaïbe beô ,R5nig§teutnantô 3, 9
Ein Jubilauni der Pendelulir . 3
Die Entstehung der Welt nach
der nordischen Mythologie
(Nach D'' Adolf Lange uiid
Karl Simrock) 0, 13
grflarung beutfcfier 2Bi3rter (o-,
.Çiengner) 7
Umwandiungder Elemente. 11, 20
Die Anfiinge der Kunstausslel-
lungen 15
Ùber die Ameisen 16
Siterariî(^e O^alidjer 18
2)ie 2)ampîfcf)iffat)rt nor ï)unbert
^aï)ren 21
SBotn ©terben (58erUner Sageblatt; 22
Wie unsere denlsche MuUer-
spraclie ward (D'' Feist).
26, 3i-, 45, 58
©ute Siic^er 26
Unveroffenllichle Bismarck -
Worte -7
%ix Slvme unb ber 9îeirf;e (33rii=
ber ©rimin) 29, 36
'^x'xwi ©olbfifd) unb ha^ i?iicfjer=
ludbiïieu (9îeinicf) 31, 38, 47, 54, 61
2)er :i3auernl)oï (Sîad) .^rieg) . . 37
2ie ®inrûl}rt (i?arl ^Jlacïe) ... 38
Misleizweige (G. Sche.nkli.ng) 41, 51
Sarah Bernhardt iind Edison
(Sarah Bernuardï) 46
Ser ^bnig trinft (Sd^enfUng). . 49
Sie grute (l'anfc^) 60
Kaiser Franz .Josef 60
Deutsche Sprichwôrter. ... 63
iiber ©locEengeïaute (Satïa). . . 65
2)ie fomifcîie ©eite ber 9îef(ame
(.'parolb DJtorré) 67
162
DEUTSCnER TEIL
[922^
Seiten.
§eïbentob (3^. 2S. Hou Deftéren).
70, 79, 86, 93, 101, Hl
S)te erfteu CuftBatlonc iiv SiBeimar. Ti
3ur ©efcf)i(^te ber Aocfjîunft. . . 75
Seltsanie Silvesterfeiern ... 88
Saê ©teigeti be§ ©afteâ in ben
^ffanjen 9i
Die deiilschen Gotter (Nach
Lange) 94
®aê |)eim ber Stmerifaneriii . . 96
iStimmen beê 3(uêïanbê iitier 9ti=
cfiarb SSagner 99, 107
Osterbrauch 102, 109
DerFremdenverkehr Europas. lOo
Von den ^Veltsprachen. . . . ll'o
23hnnenfd)(af (3kcf) g. (iof)n). . H8
©efc^if^te beê ©c^ufies 119
2ôien=SeïIin (îtlfrcb §. Çrieb) . 123
Hamburger Momentbilder (Ru-
dolf Brau.ne-RoIjla) 124, 130, 141
Goethe (Emerson) . . 125,133,142
Wodan oder Odin (Nacii Lange)
126, 134, 143, 149
23om ©riminfc[)en SKorterbud) . . 131
l)er^Yein alsKnltiirpflanze. 14o, io4
20 DJUHionen filr ein fUeib ... 146
S)te S3ivfen am ÏUegc (Cjfar Don
©c^lueben) 148, 1^8
Senionftrûtioncu im Sfjeatcv . . 148
\)er arme Mnsikant und soin
Kollege 1;)6
Deutsche Redonsarten. . . . 15'.i
III.
Lieder und Gedichte.
Cftober. — 2Ûetnle)e (3îetnict). . 3
Sic brei Stebcv (lU)Ianb). . . 'i
.'r)ert)|t|timmunçî (Êaxi aBeit=
brec^t) M
An den Mond (Leopahdi) ... 14
3lbf(ï)teb ber a^ogel (3oief lïrei-
!^err non Gidjenborff) .... 2t
3luf nieincin ®rûbe(2ubl»i3 3oto=
bouiêti) 21
Su ber ©tabt (®. Setter) .... 28
@(ï)Uiar,5Uiatbtû9e ($8» Senfen). . 36
Auf cine liollJindische Land-
schaft (Le.nau) 52
Feriengedanken (E.-T. Sciulsky) 32
vSeiten.
3)refc|en ber ^yrud^t 59
/a\ Pferd ! zu Pferd ! (Friedrich
Hlbuel) 69
DJlotten (^uïtu§ ©turm) .... 77
Frisch gesungen (Chamisso). . 85
Meeresstille (Goethe) 87
Das zerbrochene Ringlein (J.
von Eichendorff) 90
Der Osterhas (Dieffenbach) . . lOO
Fichlenbaum und Palme (H.
Hei.ne) 102
Fruhlingslied (Holty) .... 106
®ie fanften Sage (Ufilanb) . . . 116
St^iyalbenlieb (3. ©turtn) . . . 15 5
SÛalblieb ©. âtUex) 133
Ser Sommerabenb (3. ^. Çebel). 147
-nad) bem ©etuitter (?y. SBobeiiftebt) 156
IV. — "Witze und Scherze ;
kleine Anekdoten.
Ralscl 8, 56. 96
Humoristisches 8, 64
Ratselanllr)sungen. . 16,64, 98
Sie beutf(^e îanjfarte 10
^iin[tIerf)onorare 13
lîesser gesagt ....... 16
Daniel unb Skbeïofir 19
Der Lôwe und der Hase (Les-
Sl.N'G) 31
3m®aftf)auô 32
®in Oîed^engente 35
3)er ©eijige 54
Napoléon l. und der Huch-
stabe M 72
3taticniirf)e -iîoft (ernft ^iif)t=
branbt) 80
«5cî)alttag=@ptgramme 108
Studentenhumor 112
Das Kissen der Grafin Confa-
lonieri (Maroncelli) .... 117
Eine passende Gesellschal'-
tcrin 128
Ce^te aOorte berûfimter %x,]te . . 136
S)a§ O^rembUiort unb bie Bâ)uU . 136
S)te Onile unb ber @cï)Q|graber
(Seffing) i44
Kiinstlcranekdolen 151
0"^inefii(^e .•pof{icî)ïeit 152
923!
INHALTSVERZEICHNIS
163
V. — Illustrationen.
Seiten.
Soi'ef tîi'ei^err Don gic^enborff. . 1
5)aë ®oet^e=§au§ gu {yranffiirt
a. 93î. bon ber ^offerte. ... 4
Sir William Ramsay 12
9ÎDf)ert g^ultoii 22
^Robert Sieinicf 31
ScfiIoB SSiiibior 33
Seiteu.
Gossensass in Tirol 53
Léo ToLstoi 57
jîônig ÊarloG non "^l^ortugal. . . 13
Q. 2B. Dan Ceftéren 86
3îic^avb SSagner 99
S)aô 3I(^tl(eiDn auf 6ox7"u. ... 114
^aifer o-ran,3 3ofef l 121
GustavV., Konig vonSchweden 140
Les Cinq Langues
NM.
5 Octobre 1907.
8' Année.
ENGLISH PART
Lord Cromer.
One afternoon in July Sir Ilonry Campbell-Bannerman appeared at
the Table in the House of Gommons and said : " A message from lus
Majesly, the King, written in liis own hand. " This expressed the wish that his
" faithful Gommons " would vote a grant of bO 000 pounds for his great
services to Lord Gromer, who, in the preceding spring, had retired from
his post of " British
iiini more than to any
gress of modem Egypt
iMajor Evelyn Baring
to Sii' Henry Storks in
aftervvards in the in-
conducted in the Ja-
186o.From 1872 to 1876
secretary to his cou-
during his Indian Vice-
His fii-st connection
when, at the âge of
pointed British Gom-
tian Pu])licDe])t Office,
his arrivai in Cairo,
mail had heen dethro-
the Sultan, Major Ba-
Controller - General ,
Lord Cromer.
Agent in Egypt ". To
other man tlie pro-
is due.
had acted as secretary
the lonian Isles, and
quiry which Sir Henry
maica distiu'])ances in
he sei'ved as private
sin, Lord Xorth])i-ook,
royalty.
w ith Egypt was in 1876,
thirty-tive, he was ap-
missioner of the Egyp-
Less than a year after
when the Khédive Is-
ned hy atelegram from
ring hecame British
witli M. Blignières as
his colleague in the représentation of the Dual GontroL Within a year he
was hack in India as Financial Member of the Gouncil.
In 1883 Sir Evelyn Baring returned to Egypt. Then it was that his long
career began as a reformer of the Administration of Egypt. The revolt of Arabi
Pasha had just heen quelled, but tliat of the Madhi had begun. Sir Evelyn at
once advocated the abandonment of the Sudan, and wrote to Lord Granville,
who was then Foreign Secretary, urging upon him that such a course should
be taken witliout delay. Ilowever, the complications of Gortion's mission and
Gordon's death had to intervene before the Government decided that ail the
désert l)elow Wady Halfa should be abandoned.
Meanwhik' Sir Evelyn Baring set to work to re-organize in Egypt a Govern-
ment that was formless and chaotic, without authority and without crédit.
The London Gonvention of 1885, which brought a .3 per cent, loan of nine
million sterling into the empty Egyptian exchequer, was the starting point of
its financial rehabilitation. The Dual Gontrol had been ended by a Khedivial
decree, and in place oftheFrench représentative a financial adviser to the
Khédive, nominated by the British Government, wasappointed, with the stipu-
lation that no financial measure could be undertaken without his consent.
This regularized, to some extent, the British surveillance, and gave a degree
[2]
ANOL. 1
ENGLISII PART [10]
of fi'Pedom of action witliout whicii any financial relbrni would iiave been
well-nigli ' inipossil)]e.
Few administrators had cver been in a position more difficult and more
délicate tlian that which Sir Evelyn Baring occiipied. Nominally, Sir Evelyn
was but one of a dozen représentatives of the Powers; actnally he was the
représentative of the coimtry which had kept the Khédive on the throne. Yet
he represented an authority which had not been delegated but assumed, and
which was not recognized by the othei' Powers.
The progress of the great reforms carried out is permanently recordcd in
the annual reports which Sir Evelyn Baring, who became Baron Cromer in
1892 and subsequently Viscount and Earl, sent to the Britisli Government.
The first reforms were in the région of finance. Then the departmenls of
Justice, Public Works, Public Health, Education, and the Armyhad their turn.
The construction of a vast réservoir at Assouan was begun in 1808, and
was finished four ycars later at a cost of three millions and a half. In 1896
Egypt was able to set aboul the task of reconquering the abandoned Sudan,
and one of the cheapest mililary campaigns in history, beginning with the
advance on Dongola and ending with the baltleof Omdurman, cost the Egyp-
tian Treasury only two millions sterling, after déductions had been made
for permanent works like raihvays and telegraphs.
In ail ttiis work, though provided with compétent coadjutors, Lord Cromer
was the controlling and inspiring mind. He, indeed, is one of the great
British rulers who bave been even more successful in ail parts of the
world than the best Boman Pro-Consuls were of old.
1. à peu près.
The Way of the World.
The King's Physique.
A siriking (riluite lo the King's physical powers was jtaid by Sir I.auder
Brunton, consulting physician to St. Bartholomews Ilospital, at the dinner
of the delegates of the congress on School Hygiène. The idéal of the congress,
said Sir Lauder, was to promote the perfect development of the body of
man. How could they flnd a better- idéal than in their King ? He was a man of
wonderfnl ninscular strength and perfect physical energy. He was an adept
at ail field sports, and few wouhl be able to excel or equal him in physical
exercises. Besides this, he was a man of most remai-kable knowledgc, both of
small and great things, and could grasp a situation and go l'ight to the root
of things willi l'cinarkaltle ra})idity.
The Trial of the Pyx '.
The ancientceremony known as the trial ofthe pyx, oi- lesling of the nation-
al coinage, bas taken place in the hall of the Goblsmitlis' Company "^, with
ail the customary formalities. It is only since the passing ofthe Coinage Act
in 1870 that thèse trials bave taken place annually, and in former trials the
Sovereign used to attend in person and ])reside. Now, however, the proceed-
ings are conducted by the King's Remembrancer ^, the work of the jnrors
consisting in the application of the best-known tests to the exact composition
of metallic alloy. The Deputy-Master of tlie Mint '^ pi-odiu^es samples of the
1. Ciboire. — 2. In tlie City. — 3. An anrient légal title. — 4. Tiie Mint sliould be
seen by ail visitors to London. An order to view is necessary.
ni! ENGLISH PART
gold and silvercoinage duringtlie pastyear, and is accompanied hy thechem-
ist and assayer to the department, whilst the superintendent ofthe standard
weights and measures department ofthe Board ofTrade submits the weights
and scales and the gold and silver phite. Eventually, the pyx-jurors return
their verdict, which is duly published in the London Galette.
From Edward Ts reign until the Civil War the Regalia were kept in the
" Ghapel of the Pyx ", one of the few surviving portions of the earliest i'abric
o( Westminster Abbey. Hère formerly the Trial ofthe Pyx used to be carried
ont.
Fenimore Cooper [Gentenary.
On August 8 the village of Cooperstown, by the shores of Otsego Lake,
celebrated tbe cenlenary of the birth of James Fenimore Cooper wilh histor-
ical pageants representing Cooper's Indians, General Washington, methods
of travel one huiidred years ago, hop-picking in 1803, and the old " district
school". There was shown a French carriage built in 1770, which came with
Lafayette, and was later the property of Cooper.
Cooper's '•Leatherstocking" taies hâve been the delight of several généra-
tions of boys, thoiigh ihe railroad and the steam-plough hâve now driven
ont the lied Indian and the burtalo.
The Classics and "Les Langues Vivantes".
At the International Congress on School Hygiène, in an exhaustive paper
comparing the training igiven by Classics and modem languages, the lion,
and Rev. E. Lyttelton, Head Master of Eton, said there was little doubt that
as long as theClassical writers in Latin and Greek were read, even badly, and
in French and German only ephemeral tiction, the advantage was largely
with the ancient studios. But observe the ambiguity ofthis position ofthings.
In comparing the two practices, wecould not condemn or approve the choice
ot modem light literature till \\:e knew : (a) whether the boys were to be fed
meantime on serions Latin and Greek books, or whether the latter had been
discontinued ; (b) whether the aim of French teaching was mainly talking
or, along with talking, nourishmcnt of the mind. Supposingon a modem side
Latin was only a fragment, and Greek was not, obviously the need for nour-
ishing literature in French was enormously greater thau if Latin were still
a reality, seriously learnt, and Greek also, though for a slightly shorter time.
But were we sure that sucli nourishing literature, suitable for schoolboys,
existed in French and German "?
The great nope in reading Latin prose writers, Ceesar, Livy, Sallust, Cicero,
Tacitus, was that the young English mind might imbibe some of the funda-
mental priuciples of politics by being brought to study them in connection
with events far off and away from the heated partisanship of the présent
liour. Could French or German literature give us anything as good ? He had
his doubts ; but he put the question that it might be resolved by those who
had a fuUer expérience of teaching both sets of languages.
This topic might prove to be of interest to teachers of the Classics and of
the " Living " languages in the great educational institutions on the Con-
tinent. Mr. Lyttelton 's views are certainly debatable.
ENGLISH PART
121
The OldCuriosity Shop.
The little, old-fashioned red-tiled buildings, 13 and 14. Portsmoiith-street,
Lincoln's Inn Fields, bolh of which are vaguely called " Tlic Old Ciiriosity
Shop, iniirorlalised by Dickens", are shortly to be demolislied, together with
olher properly adjaceni, as far as the south-weslern corner of the Fields, to
admit of the widening of the road al thi.s point. No. 14 is said to be the real
"Old (airiosity Shop", and that state-
ment has for years past attracted
crowds of visitors who hâve raptu-
rously paid to go over the premises,
and to be handed souvenirs of Litlle
Nell.
The old premises hâve been many
things in Iheir lime. An old fellow
named Tessyman, " Thackeray's
bookbinder, " once occnpied them
as a kind of cnriosity shop, and
dealt in ail sorts of odd rubbish.
He was well known to Thackeray,
Dickens, Jerrold, and otlier writers,
who used to stop and gossip with
him. It may be thnt the legend as
to No. 14 being the real " Old Cn-
riosity Shop" originated in Tessy-
man's occupancy of the premises.
In a print of the period, " Ye Old
Curiosily Shop ' certainly appears
on the front of the house, but in
another print of the same dateitis
absent. Since Tessyman's time the
premises as they stand hâve been
occupied as a rag shop, a furniture
shop, and a vvastejpaper dealer's. It is reported, that they were originally
the dairy-honse of the Duchess of Portsmonth, who had a mansion close
by in the Fields. Whethor or not the building really is Tlie Old Curiosity
Shop, its disappearance removes from London one more picturesque and inter-
esling building.
3HaJ»
The Surprise.
Enter Mary od tiptoe '.
Mary. — JNobody knows wliat 1 kiiovv. (iiinier naroid ) Hush M Harold,
hush !
Harold. — \Vhat is it?
Mary. — It's a surprise.
Har. — A surprise ?
1. ^Ya]king on lier toes. — 2. Chut.
1131 ENGLISH PART
MAriY. — Yes, we're ^oing to be surprised.
Hah. — How do you know ?
Mary. — Because I savv the cage.
Har. — ïhe cage ! what cage ?
Mary. — The cage the hens are in.
Har. — The hens ! which hens :'
Mary. — The hens Mother is going to give us.
Har. — Is she going lo give us some hens ?
Mary. — Yes ! and a cock, also 1 But mind, you mustn't say a word
about it. It's a great secret.
Har. — Take care ! here's Lucy ! (Enter Lucy.)
Mary and Har. - Sh — sh ! Sh — sh !
Lucy. — What is it ? what is the matter?
Mary. — \ye've got a secret !
Lucy . — A secret ! what sort of one ?
Har. — A secret in a cage.
Mary. — Hold your tongue, you naughty boy !
Lucy. — In a cage t It's a bird, then !
Har. —Look eut \ here's Edith ! (En ter Edith.)
Mary, Har. and Lucy. — Hush ! Hush !
Edith. — Why are you ail " hushing " like a lotof geese? what is the
matter ?
Mary. — We've got a secret.
Lucy. — They Avon't tell me what it is; but it must be a bird, because
it's in a cage.
Edith. — In a cage ! is it a tiger ?
Mary and Har. — A tiger!! No. you silly girl !
Edith. — Don't call me silly ! how can I tell \vhat it is — if you don't
tell me ?
Lucy. — Let's try to guess.
Euitr. — It isn't a tiger; so perhaps it is a squirrel ! S([uirrels are
sometinies in cages.
Har. — So are crocodiles ; but this isn't one. It's a bird.
Lucy, — Is it a canary ?
Mary. — Bigger than that.
Edith. — A thrush ?
Mary. — Much bigger.
Har. — Mind, girls; here's Rose. (Enter Rose.)
All. — Hush ! Hush ! Hush !
Rose. — What is it'?what is the matter '?
Lucy. — We're guessing a secret.
3. Prenez garde.
ENGLISH PART [14]
Har. — Trying to guess it, you mean.
Edith. — It's soinelhing in a cage.
Rose. — Oh! I knovv ! it's a parrot !
iVlARY. — No, itisn't Pretty Polly '" .
Rose. — What does it do ?
Mary. — It surprises us.
Rose. — I meaii, wliat does it say ?
Har. — It uiakes us say luish — hush !
Edith. — Mind, mind ! here's Dick ! (Enter Dick.)
All. — Hush I Hush ! Hush !
Dick. — What on earth is the matter 1
LucY. — We've got a secret !
Mary. — Such a splendid secret ! You'll never guess it.
Dick. — I know! it's a new motor-car !
Har. — How could a motor-car get into a cage ?
Mary. — Hold your tongue, ail of you ; here's .lack, looking so im-
portant! (Enter Jack mysleriously .)
All. — Hush! Hush! Hush !
Jack. — Why such a noise ? Be quiet.
Mary. — We've got a secret !
Jack. — Hâve you reatly ? So hâve I.
All. — You hâve a secret ? what is it ?
Jack. — You tell nie your secret, and l'il tell you mine.
Luc Y. — Ours is a beauty !
Mary. — But ouly Harold aud I know all about it ; it's a surprise
Mother bas got for us ! Now, tell us yours.
Jack. — Well, corne near me, and listen. i just saw a fuuny-looking
parce l.
All. — A parcel !
Jack. — So I bent down to look, and listened and looked.
All. — What did you hear and see ?
Jack. — l heard a great dealjof llapping and pecking, and then —
cock - a - doodle - doo ^ !
Rose. — A cock ?
Jack. — Yes, and sonie hens too !
Mary. — Why, they are the cock and hens that Mother is going to
give us. That was our secret !
Har. — That's the surprise ! (Entep Lizzie.)
LizziE. — Quick, (|uick ! Mother wants you ! She bas got such a sur-
prise for you !
Ali,. — Oh ! it's the cock aud liens ! How nice !
4. Theusuiil namegiven to a parrot. — 5. The sourid made by the cock.
[15| ENGLISH PART
LizziE. — How do you know already what the surprise is?
Mary. — That's our secret ! So let us ail rim in and surprise Motlier
with Ihe secret that we ail know ! (Exeuntaii.)
Adapted from Lady Bell*.
*This lady has written a number of plays for tlie schoolroom and the drawing-
room, some in Englisli and some in Frencli.
Within The Cliff.
My father, who waslbrmerly in Ihe navy, died wliiie I was quite young
and'lelt my mother alone wiUi me, Iheir only child. \S'e lived in a nice
little cottage in a valley or coomb on Ihe South Devon coast, that para-
diseof the West ol'England. On thethatched' rooiof'our lillle home some
starlings ^ had built their nest, aiid ol'ten woke me with their cries; some-
limes too, in the spring, the iuexperienced young birds used to l'ail down
the chimney and explore my room while 1 was still in bed. In summer,
our cottage-walls were covered with twining creeper and our out-house
was almosthidden from sight by white jessamine ^. Tall magnolias, scar-
let-peîaled géraniums, and glorious while and purple lïichsia-lrees were
the boast of our garden. A stream ran Ihrough the village to [)ay its daily
trilnite to the sea, and ail round the coast were cru uibling redsandstone
clitfs. Some way out into the sea were (juaintly-shaped rocks, which \ve
called by playfu'l names such as the Widow, a forlorn-looking solitaryone;
the iVai/or and Aldermen, a dignilied rock surrounded by others aiso ol
imposhig stature; and the Bear, a curioiisly-shaped individual with its top
like a bear 's head, and two ledges julting* out like front paws. This
rock, which resembled a bear standing on its hind legs, we nicknauied ^
Salt-waier Bruin ^.
On the right of the village, through an opening iii the rocks, was the
way to one of Nature's miniature drawing-rooms, a little cove ^ fuU of
beautil'ully coloured shells and curiously marked stones. This recess was
accessible only al low tide and the entrance to il was eut oH by the sea
long before high tide ; on the right of the cove the clill jutted far out into
the sea, so that this little passage from the sand before the village to
Shell Cove had to l)e entered only after due calculations of the times of
the tides. Yet my mother and 1 olïen availed ourselvesof the solitude and
beauty of this little cove. and used to bring our ^^ork there. or maybe a
book. There we spent many an hour, lalking, working, reading, singing,
orpicking up stones. Shell Cove was famous l'or its stones, as in it were
to be found many madrépores, those stony coflins of the sea-creatures ol
âges ago. We discovered many line spécimens, and had them made into
brooches, ear-rings, inkstands, paper-weights, and soon.
One afternoon about three o'clock, when the tide was low, 1 went
into the cove, and atfirst busied myselfwilh picking up madrépores ; as
it was rather bot, I felt tired and satdown ou a large, liai rock, looking at
the sea and listening tothe music of Ihe waves. In front of the cove the
tide travelled very slouiy up the rocks and shingle* ; I sat there musing,
quite forgetful of the fevv hours during which one might leave the cove.
1. Couvert de chaume.— 2. Etourneaux. — 3. Also written " jasmine ". — 4. Projec-
ting. — 5. Donnâmes le sobriquet. — 6. In Beynavd the Fox. we ûnd '• Brnin the-
bear ". — 7. A small bay \vhere the sea has eaten away the cliff. — 8. Galets.
ENGLISH PART 116]
Suddenly I remembered wliere 1 was, and ruslied to the tiny portai, but
judge oï my horroi' on tinding that the sea had ah-eady surrounded the
entrance. It Avas now about tive o'clock, and it would be some hours
before the tide would corne as far as the clitil' ; so, both corners ol' the
cove being reached by the sea, I could escape only by climbuig up the
cUtf. I scrambled '^ some 13 feet up the crumbling sandstone cliti'and sat
on a broad ledge, hoping that some boat would pass before the tide
really became high.
{To he conlinued.) Edward Përcy Jacobsex.
9. Climbed with difûcuUy.
The Three Songs*.
In the lofty hall King Sifrid sat :
'' You harpers, which of you knows the tinest song for me '?"
And a youth stepped quickly out of the throng,
The iiai'p in his hand, the sword on bis hip.
" Three soiigs know I ; the tirst song
That hast thou indeed long forgotten :
My brother hast thou stabbed likean assassin".
And again : " Hast stabbed like an assassin ".
''• The second song that hâve I devised
In a dark, stormy night :
Thou must wilh me light for life and death ".
And again : "Must (ight for life and death ".
Then leaned he his harp right against the table.
And they both drew their swords at once.
And fought long with wild uproar
Until the Kingsank in the lofty hall.
" Now begin I the third, the finest song
That I shall never become tired of singing:
" King Sifrid lies in his red blood ".
And again : '• Lies in his red blood".
Uhland.
{Translated froni the German.)
* See the four otlier Parts.
The Merry-Maker.
Fond MÀmma. — Vos, my darling ; those little boys next door hâve no
father or mother, and no kind Aunt .lane. Wouldn't you like to give
them soniething ?
Arcuie {wllfigreat cnlhunasm). — Oh, yes, mamina. Let's give them
Aunt Jane.
« •
ToMMY. — Pa, what is an egotist ?
Father. — He is a man who thinks lie is smarter than any one else.
MoTMER. — My dear, you are scarcely right. The egotist is the man who
says that he is smarter than any one else. AU men think that way.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 2. 20 Octobre 1907. 8« Année.
ENGLISH PART
The Way of the World.
The Queen and the Grippled Ghildren.
Before the Lord Mayor, Sir William Treloar, retirée! from office, he re-
ceived from the Queen an aiilograpli letter expressmg sympathy witli the
objects of " The Lord Mayor's Cripples' Fund '", and triisting that the Endow-
ment Fund for the Home and Collège at Alton would soou bo completed. A
facsimile of this letter appeared in The Daily Telegraph, whirh has strongly
supported the scheme. The letter begins, " Dear Lord Mayor ", and ends,
" Believe me, yours sincerelv, Alexandra ".
French Plays in London.
The season of French plays at the New Royalty Théâtre is now in fuU
swing. Several pièces new to London, in the original, at any rate, were
promised in M. Gaston Mayer's advertisement, which appeared in French in
some newspapers, this point being worthy of particular observation by sup-
porters of the " Entente Cordiale ". The quasi-novelties announced included
Le Duel, Le Contrôleur des Wcujons-lits, and L'Adversaire, which hâve
been played in London before in English versions ; and first performances
were promised of Médor and Le Bercail. The " stars ' " for the opening weeks
of M. Mayer's laudable enterprise were M. Le Bargy, M. Félix Calipaux, and
Mme. Sarah Bernhardt, to be foUowed by M. De Féraudy, Mlle. Jeanne
Thoniassin, and Mlle. Marthe Brandès. This '• Théâtre Français " in London
vvith its varied repertory and constant change of leading artists, is enjoyed
as much by regular English playgoers as it is by members of the French
Colonv.
1. Principal performers.
The Breton Bards.
At the récent Eisteddfod at Svvansea was celebrated the ceremony called
" Priodas y Gleddyf, " the marriage of the sword. For some years there hâve
been preserved by the bardic Gorseddau of Wales and Brittany the two hal-
ves of a sword divided lenglhwise^ an emblem of the Brythonic race, sepa-
rated by thesea. The Breton bards had brought their half of the sword with
them to Wales, and the two portions were to be united in solemn symbolism
of the Celtic union of hearts.
Advancing from the wing of the bardic semi-circle occupied by the Bre-
tons, the Marquis De l'Estourbeillon bore to theArchdruid in the centre the
[8] ANGL. 2
10
ENGLISU PART
[58]
Breton half ot' the sword. Simiiltaneously Ihe Druid Gwynedd came in from
Ihe Welsh wing with the Cambrian half. Raising the two sections high in
the sight of the crowd, the Archdriiid united thein, amid ringing cheers, and
the Mayoress of Swansea bonnd ils hilt with ribbons of green and white,
the Cellic colours.
Then foilowed the présentation to the Archdrnid of a gorgeous banner,
which he in tui-n presented to Taldir, the Breton poet. There was a remarlv-
able scène when Taldir came to the front to acknowledge the présentation.
Fifteen thousand people sprang to their feet and gave him a truly Cyniric
welcome. When the cheers at last dieddown, Taldir, addressing the gather-
ing as " Dear fellow-countrymen, " delivered a Welsh speech, which was
continnously interrupted by oiitbiirstsof enthusiastic applause. He declared
that the sanie spirit animated the Welsh and Bretons, the same blood flowed
in their veins, and the diist of the same heroes consecrated the soil of the
two lands. The Bretons woiild cherish the banner, even as they cherished
their langiiage and nationalily.
Henry Hallam's House.
In connection with tlie indication by the London Gounty Council of
liouses in London which hâve formed the résidences of distinguished indi-
viduals, a memorinl taldcthas been erected onXo. 67, Wimpole-street, the
house where Henry Hal-
lam lived from 1819 to
1840. The tablet is of en-
caustic ware and bine in
colour, and bcars the fol-
lowing inscription : —
Henry Hallam,
17TÎ-1859,
Historian,
Lived hère.
For over twenty years
No. 67, Wimpole-street,
was llie résidence of the
historian. The issues of
Boyle's Court Guide for
the years 1820 to 1841
(witli tlie exception of
1828, in which year Sir
W^m. Heathcote is shown
as living there) show
" Hallam, Henry, Esq. ''
as rcsiding at No 67. There
is no officiai record of
Wimpole-street ever hav-
ing been re-numbered,
and a careful comparison ot directories shows that the number of this par-
ticulai' house, at ail events, has not undergone altération. Moreover, the
promises hâve not been rebuilt or substantially altered since Hallam's time.
The above dates indicate a résidence in this house from 1819 to 1840, and
il would therefore appear that he settled hère on bis return from the Conti-
nent, whither he had gone in the summer of 1818.
59! ENGLISH PART 11
Tlie statement to the effect that Hallam wrote his tirsl great work, the
" View of the State of Europe during the Middie Ages, " in Wimpole-street.
must therefore be erroneous, since the book was piiblished in 1818. But
" The Constitutional History of England, from the Accession of Henry Vil.
to the Death of (ieorge IL, " published in 1827, and the " Introduction to the
Literature of Europe in the Fifteenth, Sixteenth, and Seventeenth Centuries ",
|)ublished in 1837-9, were cerlainly composed there. Shortly after the com-
pletion of tlie last-named work, he moved to Wilton-crescent, Ihe issue of
Boyle's Court Guide for 184-2 showing him as residing at No. 24 in that thor-
oughfare. But although he had nearly twenty years of life yet remaining to
him, no great literary production marked his résidence at the hitter pkice.
Quite recently Duke Street and Charlotte Street, Portland Place, hâve been
incorporated under the naine of Hallam Street.
Another literary interest, singularly pathetic, is attached to the home in
Wimpole-street.
Dark house, by which once more I stand,
Hère in tlie long unlovely street,
Doors, where my heart was used to beat
So quickly, waiting for a hand.
A hand that can be clasped no more.
(" [n Mcmoriam, " vii).
Thus Tennyson descrihes the house which had been the home of his dear
friend, Arthur Henry Hallam, the eldest son of the historian. Arthur was eight
years old when his father went to live in Wimpole-street. When eleven he
went to Eton, remaining there five years. On leaving school he spent eight
months in Italy, and in October, 1828, entered Trinity Collège, Cambridge.
In January, 1832, he returned to London and read law, and for a year and a
half resided with his father in Wimpole-sti'eet. In August, 1833, he went to
the Continent, and in the foUowing month died suddenly when returning to
Vienna from Pesth.
While at Cambridge he and Tennyson had become greatly attached to one
another, and, after a lapse of years, the latter's " In Memoriam '"'showed the
lasting impression which that friendship had made. Young as he was at his
death, Arthur Hallam had even then produced works full of promise, but his
memory will be preserved rather by his friend's poem tlian by any of his own
writtings,
The présent Lord Tennyson becirs the Christian name of " Hallam ".
Henry Hallam felt the loss keenly, and spoke of himself as one " whose
hopes on this side the tomb are broken down for ever "'. More sorrowsawaited
him in Wimpole-street, however, for in 1837 and 1840 his daughter, Ellen, and
his wife died.
[The Pall MaU Gazette.)
Robert Bloomfield ;1766-1823;
Robert Bloomheld, born at Bury St. Edniunds, in Suffolk, is one ut the
minor English poets who hâve written of the pleasures and the incidents of
rural life. llis works are usually found together with those of Henry Kirke
White, acontemporary writer of verse. The Farmer's Boij, a longdidactic poem
on bucolic subjects, is always associated witli Bloomfield's name ; but it is not
in imagination or in reflection, but in accurate description of country life
that his chief merit rests. From his Rural Taies \\e give a balhid, The Fake?i-
\2
EISGLISH PART
[60]
h m Ghost, whicli lias tirst alarmed and thon amused several gcncrations ol
Hritish ])o\s and girls. The poet rehites thaï the incident was known to bc a
facl by old résidents in that part of East Anglia. Bloomfield was at one time
a shocmaker, and was not a favoui'ite with Charles Lamb oi- with Lord Rvron.
The Fakenham Ghost.
(.1 Ballad).
The lawns were dry in Eiislon Park,
(Hère Truth inspires my taie) ;
Thelonely footpath, still and dark,
Led over hill and date ^
Benighted - was an ancient dame ■',
And fearful haste she niade
To i(ain the vale of Fakenham,
And hall ^ its willow shade.
Her footsteps knew no idie stops,
But t'ollowed fasler still;
And echoed to the darksome copse '"
That whispered on the hill ;
Where clam'rous rooks, yet scarcely
[hnslied,
Bespoke a peopled shade ^ ;
And many a wing the l'oliage
[briished.
And hov'i-ing circnits made.
The dappled '■ herd of grazing deer,
That sought the shades by day,
Now started from her path with fear,
And gave the stranger way.
Darker it grew, and darker fears
Came o'er her troubied mind.
When now a short, quick step she
[hears
Corne patting ^ close behind.
She tiirned ; it stopped ! — nought
[conid she see
Upon the gloomy plain !
But as she strove the sprite ° to tlee,
She heard the same again.
-Now terrer seized her qnaking '"
[frame ;
For, where tiie path was bare,
\ . Valley ; dell. — 2. Overtaken by
iiight. — 3. Uld woman. — 4. Sainte
witli joy. — 5. Coppice ; a sort of
wood ; taillis. — 6. Tlie rooks made
tlieir home in the branches. — 7.
Pommelé. — 8. " Pic-a-pat" is used of
such steps. — !). Spirit ; ghost. — 10.
Sluiking.
The trotting ghost kept on the same !
She muttered many a prayer.
Yet once again, amidst hei- fright,
She tried what î-ight conld do ;
When thi'ongh the cheating glooms
I of night.
A monslcr stood in view!
Regardless of whate'er she felt,
It followed down the plain !
She owned her sins. and down she
[knelt,
.Vnd said lier pi-ayers again.
Then on she sped : and hope grew
[strong,
The white park-gate in view;
Which " pushing hard, so long it
[swnng
That ghost and ail passed thi-uugh !
Loud fell the gâte against the post !
Her heart-strings like '^ to crack ;
For much she fcared the grisly *^
[giiost
Would leap upon hei' back.
Still on, p;it, pal, Ihe goblin'''^ went.
As il had done befoi'c :
Hei- strenglh and resolulidu spenl,
She fainted at the door.
Ont came her liusliand, uiiuli sur-
[prised.
Oui came her daugliler dear;
Good-nalured soûls! ail imadvised
Of whal Ihey had lu fear.
Thecandie's gieam j)icrced through
[the night,
Sonie short space o'er the green;
And there the little trotting sprite
Dislinctly mighl be seen.
An ass's foal ' • had losl its dam "^
Within the spacious pai'k;
.Vnd simple as the playful lamb,
Had followed in the dark.
11. The grammar hère is faulty. —
12. Seenied on the point of crack ing.
— 13. Dreadful. — 14. Uilin. — 15.
Youngcolt. — 16. Mother.
[61 1
ENGLISH PART
13
Xo yolilin lie; no iiiip''' ot' siii :
-\o crimes ''^ had ever known.
They took the shaggv"* strangcr in.
And roarcd him as theii' own.
His littlc hoofs woiild rattle round
Upon llie cottage tloor :
Thematronlearned to love thesonnd
That frightened her l)efore.
A favourite the ghost became.
And 'twas his fat to thrivc^".
17. Little devil, — 18. (He). — 19.
Kough-haired . — 20. Prosper; grow well.
And long lie livcd and spread his
[famé,
Anil kept the joke alive.
For many a laiigh went through the
[vale,
And some conviction too ; —
Each thoiight some other goblin
^ [talc
P rhaps was just as true.
Robert Bloomfield
(1766-1823).
Chased by a Bear.
It was autnmiion the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada ', and there
were dry beds, which had in the spring been rivulets tlowing full and
clear from the snowy sides of the higher slopes ; yet aniongtheni lingered
the llowers ot" April upon the shrnbs, and the colonrs of the fading leaves
mingledwith the hues ot the autumn berries. A sudden turn in the wind-
ing road broughta change in the appearance of the country. ïo the left
stretched a broad open space, where the ground had not only been cleared
of ^^hatever jungle - once grew upon it, but also tnrned over, It was the
site of one of the earliest surface-mininggrounds. The shingle and gravel
stood about in heaps ; the gulleys and ditches formed by the miners ran
np and down the face of the country like the wrinkles in the cheek of a
baby monkey; old pits, kirked like man-traps ^ in the open; the old wood-
en aqueducts, run up by the miners, werestill standing where they were
abandoned by the « pioneers » ; hère and there lay about old washing-
pans,rusty and broken, old cradles, and bits of rusty métal which had
once belonged to shovels. Thèse relies and signs of bygone gathorings ol
men were sufticiently dreary in themselves, but at interv^als there stood
the ruins of a log-house * or a heap wliich had once been a cottage built
of mud. Palestine itself bas no more striking picture of désolation and
wreck than a deserted surface-mine.
Two men on horseback drew rein and looked in silence. Presentiy they
became aware of the présence oflife. Right in the foreground, about
two hundred yards before them, there advanced a procession of two.
The leader was a man. He was running so hard, that anybody could see
his primary object wasspeed. After him, withlieavy stride, seeming tobe
in no kind of hurry, and yet covering the ground at a much great;er rate
than the man, there came a bear — a real old grisly ^ A bear who was
« shadowing » the man and meant claws''. A bear who had an insuit to
avenge, and was resolved to go on with the aflair until he had avenged
it. A bear, too, whohad hisenemy in the open, where there was nothing
1. Mountains iii California. — 2. L'ndergrowtlî. — 3. Chausse-trappe. — 4. House
built of wood. — 5. Grizzly bear. — 6. To use his claws.
14 ENGLISIl PART [62|
to Stop him, and no refuge for his victim but tlie planks of a niined log-
hoLise, coLild lie find one.
Bothmen, without a word, got their rilles ready. The younger threw
the reins of his horse to hiscompanion and dismoiinted. Tlien he stood
still and watched. ïhe most exhilarating thing in the whole world is
allowed tobea hunt.No greater pleasurein lifethanthatoftlie Shekarry',
especially if he be after big game. On Ihis occasion the keenness of the
sport was perhaps intensitied to him \vho ran, by the retlection that the
customary position of things was reversed. No longer did he hnnt the
bear; the bear hunted ]dm. No longer did he warily foUow up the game ;
the game boldly followed him. It was a siient chase; to hunt in silence
wouid be hard for any man, to be hunted in silence is intolérable.
Grisly held his head down and wagged it from side to side, while his
great siient paws rapidly cleared the ground and lessened the distance. By
this time the riders had corne up, and were watching the movements of
man and bear. In the plain stood the ruins of a wooden house. Man made
for the log-house. Bear put on a spurt\ and the distance between them
lessened every moment. Fifty yards, forty yards. Man looked over his shoul-
der. The log-house was a good two hundred yards ahead. He hesitated :
seemed to stop for a moment. Bear diminished the space by a good dozen
yards and then man turned to oneside. Neither hunter nor quarry^ saw the
two men on the rising ground on which the track ran. Man saw nothing
but the ground over which he llew ; bear saw nothing but the man before
him. Faster tlew the man, but it was the last tlight of despair ; had the
others been near enough they would hâve seen the cold drops of agony
standing on his forehead ; they would bave heard his muttered prayer.
« Shoot! » cried the older man. It was time. Grisly, swinging along
wiih leisurely step, rolling his head from side to side, suddenly lifted his
face and roared. Then the man shrieked ; then the bear stopped, and
raised himself for a moment pawing in the air; then he dropped again,
and rushed with quickened step upon his foe; then — but then — ping !'"
one shot. it bas struck Grisly in the shoulder ; he stops with a roar. A
second crack of a rifle ! This time Grisly roars no more. He roUs over. He
is shot to the heart, and is dead.
Abridged from Jlie Golden Butterfly,
by Sir] Waltrr Besant and James Rice.
1. An Indian term for a hunter. — 8. The highest speed possible. — !». Proie. —
10. The Sound of a bullet.
To the Moon
0 gracious moon, 1 remember that, a year ago, full of anguish 1 came
upon this hill to look at thee ; and thou, even as thou dost nou, wast
hanging then above that wood, which thou lightest up altogether. But
cloudy and trembling from the tears that rose to my eyes did thy
conntenance appear to my sight, for my life was full of travail ; and it
* See the four other Parts.
1631 ENGLISH PART lo
is so still, nor does it change its fashion, o my beloved moon. Vet I take
delight in remembering, and in Computing the âge of my sorrow. Oh !
how pleasing it is in youth, when the course of hope is still long and that
of memory is short, to remember thingsgone by, though they besad and
the pain still endureth !
GiAcoMo Leopardi,
(1798-1837),
Within the Cliff,
II
In order to s pend the lime and if possible attract attention, I began
to practise some of my favourite songs.
In two hours the tide quite covered the smooth sands, encroached on
the shingle '•', and at last began to beat against the cliff, just splashing '"
my feet. I was now really irightened and did not know what to do ; no
boats had passed, though some ships had, far out in the offing *', and it
was impossible to climb ail the way up the cliff, and so reacli the iand.
AH at once Ifelt some watertrickling on my head, and looked up,fearing
that high-water *- mark was above me, and that the water was dripping
from sea-vveed. No, there was no sea-weed, but about 6 feet above me
water came from a crevice in the rock. I took off my neck-kerchief, tied
it to my handkerchief, and threw this improvised rope on to a stone I
could see in the opening. By this I raised myself and placed my arms in
the aperture, my feet dangling '' in the air. I rummaged ^^ about and
pulled out several stones, causing a good deal of earth to fall out; the
water now tlowed forth in a much larger volume, and I thoughtit must
be a rivulet'^ which came from the Iand through the cliff. I then
scrambled further up, and put my head in the opening; I saw it was
about four feet in diameter, and seemed to run up into the cliff at a very
steep angle, therivulet occupying the left-hand side. I was nowconvinc-
ed that J could lind a way back to the village, and thereupon dcter-
mined to enter the passage.
The tido had now risen as far as the ledge 1 had just left,and had I been
there still, the water would hâve reached my knees. So I redoubled my
efforts, and, with a large clasp-knife"^ I used to carry with me for the pur-
pose of cutting out stones and sea-weed, I considerably wtdened the
opening and crawled inside on my knees. At first the water poured over
my clothes, and the air seemed stitling, but after 10 yards the passage
became much higlier and wider, so that I could walk easily,onlyhaving to
bend my head down a little. As it was now getting on towards evening,
the lighl from wilhout became faint, and the further I toiled up the steep
ascent, the darkcr it grew.
I was much astonished to find so long a passage inside the cliff, but I
then remembered that my father had told me that in his youth the smug-
glers '' used to évade the revenue-otïicers '** by climbing- up the cliff and
dragging their goods through a subterranean passage. "Hâve I, then", said
I to myself, " rediscovered this old secret path which seems to hâve been
9. Pebbles on the beach. — 40. Éclabousser . — 11. A nautical term for the sea
as seen from the shore. — ■12. Hamte-Mer. — 13. Hanging. — 14. Fouiller. — IS. A
small stream. — 16. Couteau-pliant. — 17. Conl)'ebandiers. — 18. Thèse would now
be called customs-ofûcers.
16 ENGLISH PART |64|
blocked up for years ? " Tlien another thiiii^ came back to iiiy miiid ; a
part ol'the streain that ran through thc village, seenied to go underground
into a hole which branclied ofï' to the right'of tlie green.' " Now tlien, if
1 keep straight on and Ibllow the stream, I shalThe sure to come out
inland ". Luckily I had kept the madrépores which had led me into this
scrape*' and with them and a bit of wood, which 1 had in my pocket, 1
struck a light and made a torch out of a long pencil.
I kept on for some minutes, now scrambling, now walking, through
the passage, lirst sharp turnings to the right, theii slight bends to the left,
now my head striking against the sandstone, now the roof rising almosl
to the height of a cathedral nave. I had almost abandoned hope of ever
fînding my way out of this seemingly interminable passage, ^Ahen the
red light, causod by my torch tlashing on the sandstone, lost its bright
colour, and assumed a'^dull grey hue. Putting my hand on the rock. I
found it was no longer crumbling sandstone, but'rgugh limestone. The
stream became larger, the roof grew higher, and I was bewildered by
multitudinous intersecting corridors which seemed to lead intoGimmerian
darkness. hi case any one should follow me, I tore up an old envelope and
let the scraps of paper fallon the principal corridor through which 1 was
passing. I wasfast losingmy head, and was thinking of turningback when
my footsteps caused loudèr echoes, and, on passing a curve, I found
myself at the entrance to a huge limestone grotto.
Edward Percy Jacobsen.
[To be conlinued.)
19. Awkward situation.
Literary Notes.
Mr. Buxton Forman, whohas recenlly retired from the J'ost-Office, lias decided to
make over to tlie Keats-Shelley Mémorial Corporation the great mass of that portion
of his Keats and Shelley collections, and has already deposited some hundreds of
books, magazines, etc. Mr Forman retains his editiones principes and manuscripts of
Shelley and Keats, and other material essential in can ying on his labours connecfed
with the Works of the two poets ; but the mass of the iliustrative matter — viz., books
containing essays on or allusions to Shelley and Keats, and miscellaneous collected
éditions and sélections, will go to Rome, and form the nucleus of a complète iliustrative
collection on the plan which Mr. Buxton Forman has been carrying out for nearly
forty years.
The Pickwick Exhibition is eliciting Dickensiana from elsewhere. To the Allwnœum
Mr. Edward .1. L. Scott communicates the surprising information that in searching
the records of Westminster Âbbey he has found that the Dean and Chapter, in 1716,
visited Pickwick Manor, in the county of Wilts ; that in another progress they had
with them Mr. Winckles as a Chapter servant ; that in 173S Mr. Wegg was steward of
the manor Courts ; and that as early as 1580-1 ttiey granted leases to Samuel Weller
of Croydon. Even Bill Sikes appears in a grant of land as " Willelmus dictus Sykes. "'
Mr. Scott states that it was wholly impossible for Dickens or anyone connected with
him to hâve seen the documents in which thèse ancient names occur. However, one
must remember that it was Dickens's constant habit to transfer real names from
shop signs and elsewhere to his novels when they struck him as quaintand suitable.
Mr. Pinero, the dramatist, has in the sanie fashion chosen the names of many of his
characters.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 3. 5 Novembre 1907. 8» Année.
ENGLISH PART
The Way of the World.
Three notable men.have recently died: Mr. George Allen, llie publisher of
Uuskin's books, who first met him many years ago at the Working Men's
Collège, now transferred to Camden Tovvn ; Professer David Masson, the
eminent English scholar and critic, whose main work was his Life of Milton ;
and Lord Brampton, forinerly Sir Henry Hawkins, one of the raost successful
and keen of barristers, and, before his élévation lo the Bench, celebrated for
his connection with the remarkable ïichborne Trials. Mr. Allen, a self-aïade
man, was 76 ; the Edinburgh Professer 85 ; and the man of law 90. Ail were
lypical représentatives of various phases of the Victorian Age.
A Pageant of Kings.
In this year's Lord Mayor's Show, the chief feature will be a pageant repre-
senting the Kings who bave borne the name of Edward from the Gonfessor to
Edward Yl. Each reign will yielda separate section, the individual" monarchs"
being acconipanii'd bythemost important personages of their period. Most
of the membersof the sections will be mounted, and Ihere will be 120 men
on horseback, with an eqiial number on foot. This item in Ihe procession will
be foUowed by a représentation of the reign of King Edward VIL, consisting
of a huge harvest thanksgiving car, whose ob.ject will be to indicate peace
with ail the world. The car will be a large Suffoik ' farni wagon, painted blue,
and laden with grain, fruit, flowers, and drawn by six magiiificent horses. in
the centre will be a girl, representing the figure of Peace, and four women
standing at each of the corners will symbolise Europe, Asia, AtVica, and Amer-
ica. The conimiltee bave had the good fortune to enlist the assistance of Mr.
Louis N. Parker -, who was responsible foi' the récent successful pageanls at
Warwick, Sherborne, and Bury St. Edmunds.
The Entente cordiale.
At a dinner given to the Paris Counciilors by the Chambre de Commerce
française de Londres, M. Caml)on paid a Iribute net only to the l)usiness acu-
men, but to the charity and patriotism of the French Colony in London. He
was in entire accord with the ideasof M. Lefèvre, the président of the Coun-
cil, upon the mutual commercial éducation of young business men of the
two peopk's. There was an institution in England wbich trained young French-
men for commercial life in England, and he had circularised ail the Cham-
bers of Commerceand other puhlicbodies in France, as well as themerchants
andmanufacturers asking their support in the establishment of scholarships.
] . One of tlie counties in East Anglia. — 2. A weli-known dramatic author.
[14] ANOL. 3
18 ENGLISH PART |106)
He did not ut that moment ask Ihe Paris Council for a scholarship, but he
hoped they would consider the circular.
Référence vvas aiso tnade to next vear's Franco-British Exhibition.
The Fight in the Storm.
Fora moment they stood facing each other, a weil-matched pair — Peter, iean ' ,
tierce-faced, longarmed, a terrible man to see in the fiery light that broke
upon him from beneath the edge of a blaek cloud ; the Spaniard tall also,
and agile, but to ail appearance as unconcerned as though this were but a
pleasnre bout -, and not a duel to the death. D'Aguilar wore a jireastplate of
gold-inlaid black steel and a helmet, while Peter had buthis tunic of bulTs hide
and iroii-lined cap, though his straight sword was heavier and mayhap^half
an inch longer than that of his foe.
it was Peter who tlirust the first, straight at the throat, but D'Aguilar par-
ried deftly ^, so thaï Ihe swoi-d-point went past his neck, and before it could
be drawn back again, struck at Peter. The blow fell upon the side of his steel
cap, and glanced thence to his left shoiilder, but, being light, did him no
harm. Swiftiy came the answer, which was not liglit, for it fcII so iicavily
upon D'Aguilar's breastplate, Ihal he staggered back.
After him sprang l*eter, thinking that tlie game was his, but at that
moment the ship, whicli had entered the breakers ■ of llu; narlionr bar,
rolled terribly, and sent tliem both reeling * to the bulwarks.
Noi- did she cease her roUing, so that smiting '' and thrnsting wildly, tliey
staggered liackwai'ds and forwards across the deck, gripping wilii their left
hands at anything Ihey could tind to steady thcm, till at length, bruised and
hreathless, they fell apart unwounded, and rested awhile.
" An ill hekl this to fight on, Setïor ", gasped D'Aguilar. " 1 think that it
will serve oiir turn", said Peter grimly, and ruslied al him iike a bull. It was
just llien Huit agréât sea came aboard the shi[), a mass of green water which
struck them both and washed them Iike straws into the scuppers '* where
they rolled luilf drowned. Peter rose the tii'st, cougliing ont sait water, and
j'ubbingit from liiseyes, to see D'Aguilar still upon the deck, his sword lying
beside him, and holding iiis right wrist wilh his left hand. •' Who gave you
the hurt? " he asked, " I, or your fall ! '" " The fall, Seùor, " ansvvered D'A-
guilar;" I think that ithas broken my wi-ist. But I bave still my left hand.
SufTer me to arise, and we will (inish this fray. " As the words passed his
lips a gust of wind, more furious than any Huit liad gone before, concentrated
as it was through a gorge in the inounlains, struck the vessel at the very
mouth of the harbour, and laid her over on her beam-ends ^. For a while it
secmed as though she must capsize and sink, till suddenly her mainmast'"
snapped Iike a stick and went overboard, when, relicved of its weight, by slow
degrees she righted herself. Down upon the deck came the cross-yard", one
end of it crashing through the roof of the cabin, s|ililling it in two, while a
block attached to the other fell upon the side of Peler's head and, glancing
from the steel cap, struck him on the neck and slioulder, hurling him sense-
less on the deck, where, still grasping his sword, he lay wilh arms out-
stretched.
11. UiDF.R Haggard *.
1. Thin. — 2. Partie. — 3. Perliaps. — 4.Skilfully. — o. Brisants. — 6. Chanceler.
— 7. Striking. — 8. Dalots. — 9. Côté. — 10. Grand mât. — 11. Vergue de fougue.
— * From his new romance of England and Spain, called Pair Margaret.
1107]
ENGLISH PART
19
Sir Arthur Helps.
(18 17-1875;.
A disfinguishod and popular writcr of thc Viclorian Age was Arthur Helps.
Enlering into political life, he beraniein 1859 Clerk of the Privy Conneil (tlie
Council at which the Sovereign
is présent). Through this officiai
position Helps became closely
associated with IlerLateMajes'y,
Queen Victoria, and was deputed
l)y her to edit the Principal
Spccc/tes and Addresses of tlic
Laie Prince Consort, and in
1868, to edit lier Majesty's hook,
Lpaves from a Journal of our
Lifri in the Highlands. Ile him-
self wi-ote many books, some his-
toricai, a few imaginative, but
niost didactic or reflective.
Ainong the lalter are his two
séries of dialogues and interpo-
l.ited essays, Friends in Council,
Irom which we extract the fable,
Tlie Poplar and thc Oah, and a
longer pièce, partly in dialogue
form. The inlerlocutors are
Dunsford and his two former
pupils at Collège: Milverton and
Ellesmere. The work, though not
[iiofuundly original, is full of
soiind and still appropriale
retlections, and had a great vo-
gue. So, too, had his political
romance, Realmah. His dramas
liad little success. Résides other
didactic and semi-political, semi-
[iliilosophical works, we may
mention his Animais and their
Masters, and several historiés of
the early Spanish conquests of
America (Pizarro and Cortés).
Helps, who was knighted Ijcforc he died, is typical of an âge which was
more scholarly, more reflective, and less hurried than the présent, and which
did quite as much and as good work.
Sir Arthur Helps.
(After the caricature by '• Ape'
The Poplar ' and the Oak.
loverheard the other day a conversation between a complacent poplar
andagrim old oak. The poplar said, that it grew up quite straightheaven-
wards, that ail its branches pointed the same way, and ahvays had done
1. Peuplier.
20 RNGLISH PART [108 1
so. Turning to the oak, which it had been talking at before for some
time, the poplar went on to remark that it did not wish to say anything
nnfriendly to a brother of the forest, l)ut those warped and twisted
branches seemed to show strange struggles. The tall thing conckided
its oration by saying, that it grew up very fast, and that when it had
done growing, it did not suflFer itself to be niade into huge lloating en-
gines ^ of destruction. But différent trees had différent tastes. There
was then a sound from the old oak, like an " ah " or a " whew " % or,
perhaps, it was only the wind amongst its resisting branches : and the
gaunt créature said that it had had ngly winds from without and cross- '^
grained impulses from within ; that it knevv it had thrown out awk-
vvardly a branch hère and a branch there, which would never comequite
right again it feared ; that men worked it up, sometimes for good and
sometimes for evil — but that any rate it had not lived for nothing. I
patted the old oak approvingly and went on.
Friends in Council,
by Sir Arthur Helps.
2. Battle-ships were not then (1847) ironclads. — 3. Pfui. — 4. Against the
gram of the wood.
Friends in Gouncil.
DuNSFORD. — I quite agiee, Milverton, with whatyouwere sayingabout
the business of the world l)eing carried on l)y few, and the thinking few
beingin the nature of gifts to the world, not eiicited by King or Kaiser.
Milverton, — The mill-streams that turn the clappers' of the world
arise in solitary places.
Ellesmere. — Not a bad metaphor, but untrue.
M. — Well, I believe it would be much wiser to say, that we cannot
lay down rules about the highest work, either when it is done, where
it will be done, or how it can be made to be done. It is too immaterial
for our measurement ; for the highest part even of the mère business of
the world is in dealing with ideas. It is very amusing to observe the
misconceptions of men on those points. They call for what is outward,
can understand that, can praise that. Fussiness- and the forms of activity
in ail âges getgreat praise. Imagine an active, bustling littlepnetor under
Augustus, how he probably pointed out Horace to bis sons as a moony ^
kind of man whose ways were much to be avoided, and told them it was
a weakness in Augustus to like such idie men about him instead of men
of business.
E. — Or fancy a bustling Glasgow merchant of Adam Smith's^ day
watching him. Ilowlittle would the merchant hâve dreamt what a number
of vessels were to be lloated away by the ink in the Professor's inkstand ;
and what crashing of axes and clearing of forests in distant lands, the
noise of bis pen upon the paper portended.
1. Claquet. — 2. Exaggorated business. — 3. Dreamy — i The great economist.
[109j ENGLISH PART i21
M. — It isnot oiily theeffect of thestill '-working maatliatthe busy man
cannot anticipate, but neither can he coniprehend the présent labour.
D. —AU of it onlygoes to show how little we know of each other; how
tolérant we ought to be of others' efforts.
M. — The trials that there miist be every day withoiU any incident that
even the most minute household chronicler could set down : the labours
withont show or noise !
E. — The deep things that there are which, wilh unthinking people,
pass for shallow things, nierely l)ecanse they are clear as well as deep.
My fable The Poplar and ihe Oik, for instance
M. — I am glad you reminded me of that. I, too, fired with a noble
émulation, hâve invented a fable since we last mot.
D. — Now for the fable.
M. — There was a gathering together of créatures hurtfui and terrible
to man, to name their King. Blight % mildew". darkness, mighty waves,
Tierce winds, Will-o'-the-wisps \ and shadows of grim objects, told fear-
fully their doings and preferred their claims, none prevailing. But when
evening came on, a thin mist curled itself up, derisively, among tlie assem-
blage, and said, " I gather round a man going to his own home over
paths made by his daily l'ootsteps : and he becomes at once helpless and
tame as a child. The lights, meant to assist him, then betray Vou find
him wandering, or need the aid of other Terrors to subdue him. l am,
alone, confusion to him "'. And ail the assemblage bowed before the mist,
and made it King, and set iton the brow of many a mountain, where,
when it is not doing evii it, may be often seen tothis day.
D. — Well, I likethat fable; but I am not quite clear about the meaning.
Is the mist calumny ?
E. — No ; préjudice, 1 am sure.
D. — Familiarity with the things around us, obscuring knowledge ?
M. — I would rathernot explain. Each of you make your own fable of
it.
1). — Well, if ever 1 make a fable, it shall be one of the old-fashioned
sort, with animais for the speakers, and a good easy moral.
Friends in Council.
by SrR Arthur Helps.
5. Quietly. — 0. Brouissiire. — 7. liouillr. — 8. Feux-follels.
A Ghild's Laughter.
Ail the bells of heav(>n may ring,
AU the birds ofheaven may sing,
Ail the wells on eartb may spring.
Ail the winds on earlh may bring
AU sweet sonnds together;
Sweeter far flian ail things heard.
Hand of barper, tone of bird,
99
EISGLISH PART [110]
Sound of woods at sundawn stirred,
Welling'water's winsome word,
Wind in wai'm wan wcalhcr '.
One thing there is, that none
Hearing ère ils chime be done
Knows not well the sweelest one
Heard of man beneath the sun,
Iloped in heaven hereafter ;
Soft and strong, and Joud and light,
Very soiind of very light,
Heard from morning' s rosiest height,
When the soûl ofall delight
Fills a ehild's eleur hiughter.
Golden hells of welcome rolled
Never forth such notes, nor told
Hours so blithc in Lones so bold,
As the radiant inouth of gold
Hère that rings forth lieaven.
If the golden-crested vvi-en
Werc a nighi ingale — v\hy, then,
Somothing seen a-d heard of men
Might he half as sweet as when
Laiiglis a ciiijd of seven.
Alger.nom Cihrles Swiînburnk,
1. The reader should observe " alUteration's artful aide
Within the Glifî.
III
The stream raii throngh the cave, and froni the high roof liiing stalac-
tites as long as a man's arm ; on the groiind vvcre stalagmites of curions
formations. Innnmerahie passages seemed to open ont from the grotto,
and on tiiem my torch, which was liurning dim, cast long shadows. The
unearthly silence oï the place chillcd me, and overpowered me Avith a
sensé ol' awe. 1 began to vvander about the cavern, walking as quietly as
possible to avoid rousing the sleepingecho, nowstooping-" down to exa-
mine a stalagmite shaped like a crown, now peering into the gloom of
the arched roof. AU at once I stumbled over something, and looked to see
vvhat it was. It appeared to be a barrel made of moiildering '-' wood,
from which came a faint odour of spirits--. I bent down to examine it,
and read in aimost obliterated letters the words " Cognac, Brest ". My
previous surmise then was correct, the path I had taken was the smug-
glers' passage, and this cave must hâve been their store-house. Though
the smell of brandy was still perceptible, ail the liquid had escaped by a
little hole in one side of the barrel. Looking round and hoping to make
more discoveries, I observed vvhat seemed to be a very thick large spider's
20. Bending. — 21. Dec.iying into fragments. — 22. Alcoholic Uquor.
[lllj EiNGLISH PART 23
web, covering a crevice in the rock. I put my hand on it, but, strange to
say, the web did not give way at my touch. It was a pièce of old French
lace, Ihoiigh now rather decayed by the action of water and air.
As my pencil-lorch was now nearly ont, 1 knocived a pièce ont of the
old bai'rel aiid lit it, producing a spectral blue tlame. I now saw on the
far side of the stream what appeared to be two eyes glaring at me from
a dark recess ; 1 immediately vvaded through the water, and found a
white form tied on to a pondérons stalactite by a pièce of rope. It was
a skeieton ! the hollows where its eyes had been, had attracted me.
I screauiedwith frightand,notnoticinga deep hole, Islipped, lettingmy
torch fali ; groping -' about to find some support, I lost my balance, and
fell, face down, on to the indeuted rock. My face wasfearfully eut, and two
teeth were quite broken ; so great was the tlow of blood, that I lost ail
consciousness, and faiiited avvay in that lonely cave
During the earlier part of the afternoon my mother had been occupied
with her household duties, and had then been busy in picking slraw-
berries for our favourite dish of strawberries and cream . But as tea-time
approached and 1 was still absent, she became rather vexed. At last she
w^ent round to one of our neighbours to see whether l had been there ;
Mrs. Carter knew nothing of my whereabouts, but her little girl Rose
said that rather before three o' clock she had seen me on the sands walk-
ing towardsShell-Cove. " When isithigh tide-Ho day?" asked my mother.
" At8o'clock " replied Mrs Carter, " but the Shell-Cove passage will be
blocked upsoonafterlive"." Dear, dear ! " -' exclainied my mother" Why
Jack must hâve been caught by the tide. 111 run to the beach and ask
Tom Wheeler to put ont his boat and row round the point. " But ail the
men were out lishing, and none came in till after 7 o'clock, the very time
that I had entered the passage.
(7'o Oe continued.)
Edward Percy Jacobsen.
23. Chercher à Idtuns. — 24. Haute marée. — 25. Mon Dieu !
The Poor Man and the Rich Man.
In olden times, when God still nsed himself to wander on earth among
men, it happened one evening that he was tired, and that night fell upon
him, before he could reach an inn. Now there stood on the road before
him two houses opposite one another, the one large and handsome, the
other small and poor to look upon ; and the large one belonged to a rich
man, the small one to a poor man.
Then our Lord thought : " To the rich man I shall not be a burden,
upon him will I knock. " The rich man, when he heard knocking at his
door, opened the window, and asked the slranger what he wanted. The
Lord replied : " 1 ask only for a night's lodging". The rich man looked
* See Ihe four other Parts.
24 ENGLISH PART |"112]
at the wanderer IVoin liead to foot, and, because God wore plain
clothes and did not look like one who had much raoney in his pocket,
heshook his liead, and said : " 1 cannot receive you. My rooms lie fiill
of herbs and seeds, and were 1 to harbour everyone that knocked at
iny door, so should I niyself liave to take tiie beiïgar's staft' in niy hand.
Seek elsevvhere a slielter. " With this he shut his window to, and left
God standing outside.
Theref'ore God turned his back upon him, went over to the small
house, and knocked. He had hardly knocked, when the poor man un-
latched iiis door, and bade the wanderer enter and pass the night with
him. " It is dark ah'eady, ' he said, " and to-day you could not indeed
go any larther." This pieased God, and he entered in. The poor man's
wife held ont her hand to him, bade him welcome, and said he must make
himself comfoi'table and be satistied. They had not much, bntwhat it was
they would give IVom their hearts gladly. Then slie put potatoes on the
hre, and, whilst they were cooking, she miiked her goat, so that they
inight bave a little milk also.
And, when the table was laid, God sat by theni and ate wilh them j
and the poorfare tasted vvell to him, because there were contented faces
there. ACter they had eaten and it was bedtime, the wife cailed her hus-
band secretly, and said : '• Listen, dear husband, to-night we will make
ourselvesabed of straw, so that the poor wanderer can lieinour bed and
rest himself ; he has been walking the whole day and with that a man
becomes tired. " "Wiliingly, from my heart, " he answered ; " I will
oiïer him it. " He went up to God, and asked him, if it were agreeable to
him, toiiein tlieirbedand rest his limbs properly. God wished not to take
Iheir l'esting-piace from the two ohl folks, but they did not desist nnlil
tinally he did it and lay in Iheir betl, whilst they, on the other hand,
made a bed of straw upon the ground.
The next morning they got up before daybreak, and cooked for the
guest a breakfast as good as they had. And when the sun shone through
the window and God had arisen, he ate wilh them again, and wished
then to go on his way. As he stood at the door, he said : "Because you
are so compassionate and pions, make now three wishes, and 1 will ful-
lil them for you." Then said the poor man : " What should 1 wish
except eternal blessedncss, and that wc two, as long as we live, are
healthyand bave onr scanty daily l)read; for the tliird I don't know any-
thing to wish." God said : ■' Will yuu not wish for yourself a new house
for the old one?" Then said the man : " Yes, if that were to ha[)pen,
it would please me vvell." Now the Lord fultilled their wishes andchanged
their old house into a beautiful new one, and, when this was done, he
left them and went on his way.
[To he conlinued.) The Brothers Grimm.
{Translaled frovi the German.)
Les Cinq Langues
N» 4. 20 Novembre 1907. 8» Année.
ENGLISH PART
The Way of the World.
The '" Edward Medal ' .
The London Gazette lias contained thc text of a Royal Warrant instituting
a new décoration for " distinguishing by some mark of Oiir Royal Favour llie
many heroic acts performed by miners and quarrymen' and others who
endanger their lives to save the lives of others from périls in Mines and
Quarries. " The warrant ordains Ihat a medal, to be known as the " Edward ^
Medal ", shall be awarded ù)V such acts of gallantry. The medal, which is to
be awarded only on the recommandation of the Home Secretary, will be of
two classes. The " Edward Medal of the First Class " will consist of silver,
with HisMajesty'seftigy on the obverse, and on the reverse a design representing
the rescue of a miner, with the inscription: " For courage. " The second-
class medal will be of similar design in bronze.
The medals will be suspended from the left breast on a dark blue ribbon,
with a narrow yellow stripe on either side. When acts of gallantry are per-
formed by one upon whoin the décoration bas already been conferred, such
acts may be recorded by bars attached to the ribbon. The décoration will be
forfeitable should any récipient be guilty of crime or disgraceful conduct.
In opening the new Qiieen Alexandra Dock at Garditt', in July last, the King
said :
I hâve often read with a feehng of admiration and pride how, on occasions when
numbers of. minprs are eut ofif, by fallen débris or other obstructions^ from tlie outer
world, their fehow-workers, undeterred by their perfect knowledge of the danger of
the attempt, eagerly volunteer to assist in the work of rescue. The wliole country
applauds and is grateful for the courage and dévotion of such heroes^, but I hâve for
some time felt that insufficient means exist of giving a worthy and lasting public
récognition of tliese brave deeds. 1 propose very shortly to estabhsh a décoration
bearing my own name, to be awarded to the courageous men who, in the mines and
quarries of this country, voluntarily endanger tlieir hves in order to save the lives
of others.
A Lucltnow Heroine.
The death bas occurred ofMrs. Garrett, a survivor of the siège ofLucknovv.
At the âge of nineteen she married.in 1854, Lieutenant Alexander John Dash-
wood, 48th Bengal Native Infantry, and in the same year accompanied her
husband to India. On the outbreak of the Mutiny they were at Lucknow
and during that terrible time of trial the sufferings she underwent were
accentuated by the lossof her husband, an infant son, and her brother-in-law.
Mrs. Dashwood behaved during the siège with remarkable fortitude,
succouring the wounded, and doing her utmost to encourage the little band
1. Carriers. — 2. The " Albert " Medal, instituted by Queen Victoria, was also
civil distinction.— 3. Heroes of peace.
[20] ANGL. 4
26 ENGLISH PART [154]
vvhose numbers daily diminished, but who stoutly held out. Mrs. Dashwood
was présent at the deatli of Sir Henry r.awrence, the great Résident during
that fearftil siège.
Measuring the Schoolboy. — Eton's Experiment.
It lias been decided to introduce the praclice of taking exact physical
mcasiirements of ail boys who pass through the school at least once in
their Eton career, and it is intended that the work shall be begun this half^.
The measiirements taken vviil include the size and shape of the head, the
height standing and sitting, span ^ of arms, girth of chest, etc. ; also the
weight, the colour of the hair and eyes, and perhaps later on the Inng capa-
cily and strength of grip^ and pull. The reasons for this innovation and the
practical results that it is hoped will be produced are set forth as follows by
Mr. M. D. Ilill, the science inaster :
In the first place, little is known as to the relative dimensions of British boys,
except of those belonging to the classes that attend primary schools. We hear much
about the physical détérioration of town-bred people, but eaough exact statistics are
not forthcoming. Although Eton is one of the last places where one would look for
feeble and degenerate spécimens of humanity, still it will be valuable in years to
corne to compare the beiglit, weight, etc., of boys with the same measurements
taken in the early part of the twentieth century.
Again, we hear much of the value of gymnastics and drill as practised in Germany.
Does our system of outdoor games produce on the average a flner and more powerful
individual than the more martial exercises of German boys? What will be the effect
of the new system of gymnastics hère? Is there a direct corrélation between increases
in stature ', weight, etc., with growth of mental power? Tbese and a host of other
questions of importance to future legislators for the well-being of our race can only
be decided by a mass of anthropométrie statistics collected for many years.
Then, again, the etiniology of the British races is a matter of some interest.
Although we speak the same language, it is weil known that Britons are a mixture
ot several différent races. In what proportion do tliese exist in our population at the
présent day? The sliape of the head, the stature, the colour of the hair and eyes,
would seem to be the only reliable guides.
4. Term. — 5. Extent. — 6. Power of holding. — 7. Height.
A Morning Ramble
The dew clung in big, iridescent crystals to the grass ; it gicanied like
sprinkled rubies on the scarlet petals oflhe poppies; on the brown earth of
tlie pathways, where the long shadows were piirplc,itlay white like hoar-frost-.
'f he shadows were still long, the snnheams slill almost level ; the sun shone
gently, as through a thin veil, gilding with pinkish gold the surfaces it
toiiched — glossy leaves, and the roiigh bark of tree-triinks, and the points
of the grass. A Ihicker veil, a gauze of pearl and silver, dimmed the blue of
the sea, and blurred ^ the edge of the cliffs. On the sea's edge lay a long,
grey cloud, a long, low, soft cloud, ilat like a band of soft grey velvet.
The morning was inexpressibly calm and peaceful; yet it was busy with
Sound and with movement. Rooks circled overhead, cawing*^ to other rooks,
out ofsight in neighbouring seed-fields. Lapwings ^ started from the shrub-
beries «^ where their eggs were hidden, and fluttered lamely towards the
t. Walk. — 2. (lelée blanche. — 3. iMade obscure. — 4. Croasser; a word formed
Irom the sound. — 5. Vamiemix. — 6 Plantation of bushes.
il551
ENGLISH PART
27
operi '. Sparrows were holding their noisy dispiitalions ; frotn a distance
came tlie soft call of the cnckoo. Bées flew about from flower to flower
gathering honcy, while biitterflies flitted ^ irresponsibly, capricioiisly, wher-
ever a bright coloiir beckoned, and gave no thoiight to the moments that
had not come. Everyvvhere there was business, rumour, action, but every-
w'here, nevertheless, there was the ineffable peace of eaiiy morning, and the
wonderful prisline air, that seemed to penetrate beyond the sensés, and to
reach the imagination, waking mystic surmises ^ of things unknown but
somehow kindred '-'.
The- Lady Paramount,
by Henry Harland.
7. (ground). — 8. Flew. — 9. Conjectures. — 10. Related.
The Letters of Dean Hole
Artlessness and simplicity appear in nearly ail the late Dean Hole's^ wiitten
and printed words. Thoy notably appear thronghout thèse letters. There
never were letters less artilicial
than thèse. I bave not read a single
stilted or conventional line in a
Ictter of bis. Some people, I know,
bave rather expected to find in thi>
book the flavour of the old style
of letter-writing, such as tlou-
rished when the atmosphère of
Icisure was more gênerai, and
people took elaborate pains in wri-
ting their letters ; when the writing
of a lettcr was a romparatively rare
and serious business. But from the
hrst letter to Ihe last in this collec-
ticn there is no sign or sugges-
tion of this old-time model letter-
writing — no trace of the "• episto-
lary " style of our forefathers. One
and ail they strike us as qiiite
modei'n — just as one and ail they
strike us as the letlcrs of a man
who never let loose bis hold on the
joyousness, fulness, and intense in-
terest of life in its many phases.
Much of the letter-vvritingin the old
style was marked by a certain
restraint and artificiality. We tind
this even in some of the model and classic letters of the eighteenth
and first half of the nineteenth centuries. Ourancestors punctuated svith such
pains. They were nice — in the old sensé of nice — they were précise ; and
they did not let themselves go ^ The old-fashioned letter was often a kind
of essay — a prize essay. As a resuit, there was more of the man's pen than
Dean Hole.
1. From the editor's Memoir . — 2. Noted for his love of mirth and his culture of
roses. This volume of letters is newly pubhshed ; his Memories appeared in 1892. —
3. Behave with freedom.
28 EN6LISH PART [156J
of tlie man about it. But in thèse letters of Dean Hole it is nothing if not the
man that we see throughout. A cynic said tliat words are given us to conceal
our tlioughts with ; if so, Hole never made use of the gift.
The Mania to be called Esquire
I pass on to another mania, whicli rather provokes amusement than
anger^ — the mania to be cailed " Esquire". Forty years ago, the title
was restricted to those who carried arms. The armiger-, no louger toil-
ing after his knight with heavy hehiiet and sliield, bore his own arms,
as he drove along, proudly and pleasantly upon his carriage door.
People who became rich, and found themselvesshut ont frora " gen-
teeP Society ", becanse they had oniy letters upon their spoons, instead
of beasts and birds, arms with daggers, and legs with spurs, were delight-
ed to discover, on application at the Heralds' Oflfice S that one of their
ancestors had undoubtedly exercised the fnnctions of a groom in the
establishment of William the Conqueror, and that they w^ere consequently
entitled to bear upon their arms a stable-bucket azAire, between two horses
current. and lo wear as their crest a curry-comb in base argent, between
two wisps of hay proper, they and their descendants according to the
law of arms''. But the luxury was expensive : a lump" sum to the Heralds,
and two pounds two' to the King's Taxes; and so, as time wenton, men
of large ambition, but of limited means, began to crave for some more
economical process by which they might become Esquires. They met
together, and they solved the difticulty. They conferred the title upon
each other, and they charged no fee. And now the postal authorities will
tell you that the nnmber of " Esquires ", not carrying arms, not having
so much as a leg to stand upon (in the matter of légal daims), is some-
thing " awfnl ^ " ! But the process is so charmingly cheap and easy, that
we may expecta further development. Why should we not ail be Bar-
onets? Why should we not raise ourselves, every man of us, on his own
private hoist'^ to the Peerage? '"
Dean Holr.
1. From Dean Hole's lecture on " The Vulgar longue ". — 2. Arms-bearer. — 3.
This once meant " gentle " (gentil) ; it now refers to imitation gentlemen. — 4. Hère
pedigrees and arms are registered and proved. It is a Government Office, called the
Heralds' Collège. — 5. Heraldic terms. — 6. En bloc. — 7. (Shillings). — 8. A slang word
for " terrible ". — 9. Elevator. — 10. This is a good spécimen of the Dean's humour.
The Poor Man and the Rich Man*.
H
When it was broad daylight, the rich man got up and placed himself at
the window : he saw opposite a beautifnl new house on the spot where
formerly an old but had stood. At this he opened his eyes, called his
* See the four other Parts.
[157J ENGLISH PART 29
wife. and said : " Wife, look now; how has it happened ? Vesterday
evening there stood there a misérable luit, and now it is a beaiitiful new
h ou se ; please run across there, and Hnd ont how it has corne to pass?"
The wife wentover, and qnestioned the poor man; he told her : " Yester-
day evening there came a wanderer, who songht shelter for the night,
and this morning on his departure he has granted us three wishes :
eternal blessedness, health in this life and our scanty daily bread, in
addition, and instead of our but a beanliful new hoiise ". When the rich
man's wife had beard this, she ran ott and told her husband how it had
happened. The man cried : " I sbould like lo tear and beat myself to
pièces ; if I had only known it I The stranger has been to me also, but I
hâve turned him away! " " Make haste then "', exclaimed the wife, " and
get on to your horse. The man is not yet far off. Yon must overtake him,
and let him grant you also three wishes ".
Then the rich man mounted his horse, and caught up God, addressed
him in a polite and amiable manner, and said that he must not take it
ill that he had not been admitted iinmediately. He had tried to lind the
key of the house-door, and dnring this time he (the traveller) had gone
away. If he came back that way he must 'put up' at his bouse. " Yes'",
replied God ; " if at any time I shonld corne back, I will do so "'. Then
the rich man asked whether he might not make three wishes, like his
neighbour. " Yes ", said God ; he might of course do that, but it would
not be good for him; he had better not wish anything. But the rich
man thought that he would indeed chooso somethinggood forhimselfif it
was only certain to be fulfilled. Then said God : " Ride home, then, and
three wishes which you make shall be fultilled ".
( To he continued.)
The Brothers Grimm.
[Translaled frotn the German.)
Pilchards
A writer in The Daily Tolrqraph thus describes the pilchard-flshing on tlie coast
ofCornwall.
The other morning, I was suddenly aware of a far-oflf bellowing voice,
as of a giant in pain ; such a fury of sound that ail the quiet of the place
vanished like a dream. And behold, high above the village, on the verv
sky-line of the clifî, a stone hut, and in front of it a man roaringthrongh
a huge trumpet; and round about me the cottages brought forth excited
women-folk, and ont from the beach went men and boats and nets. For
the pilchards had corne into the bay, adding one more colour, a wide
stain of life, to the many colours of the sea. Blood-red, an old woman
told me; but, to my eyes, it was a dark purple, matching the rocks just
under water. Hère, in this little place, are three companies of fishermen,
each with its own capital, plant -, and estate in Ihe bay.
The watcher had laid aside his trumpet, and was signalling hard with
a pair of leatlier l)alls on handies. Far away, the obedient boats dropped
their vast nets, and one net went fairly down into solid life, and there
1. Pilchards sorte de ti.areng. — 2. Boats, nets, etc.
30 ENGLISH PART 1 158]
was left, till tlie tide should be favourable for landingthe take. Anxious
work, to leave the full net, for the cost of a net may be as much as €300,
and a gale might break it, and spill ^ life vvorth €'tOO oréoGO ont of it. So
tbe boats lay ail night round tlie net, and beforedaylight they had filled
two huge barges and brongbt theni in, yet left the net balf-full. Also a
sailing boat came froni Newlyn, and carried off niany tons of (ish.
The nnloading of Ihe barges next morning was a strange sight. Ail the
morning men were tramping with baskets betAveen the barges and the
siieds, and carts were coming from another stretch of beach where a third
barge had been landed. At the sheds the tish were poured ont of the
baskets, coarse sait was thrown over them, three castsof the sait to each
basketfui, and tish and sait together were swiftly shovelled into huge
cement-lined tanks. It w^as quick work, yet it took ail the morning to
empty the barges. On the opposite side of the sheds, other tanks, filled
three weeks ago, were now being emptied, and women were packingthe
salted tish in barrels. The smell of oil hère was horrible. Still, the filled
barreis were ciean and wholesome.
In the afternoon we were rowed ont to see the rest of the fish taken ont
of the net, which is the " tucking of the seine ". Within the circumference
of the great net a smaller net had been sunk, and was now raised^ very
slowiy, l)y a circle of boats and barges. Outside and above us the gulls
were clamouring and wheeling, but were notliungry, and didnotdash into
the net or into the boats. With the graduai rising of the net there came
a curious tlickering of the surface of the water, as if it were boiling.
Presently, close nnder the surface, we could see the top of the life in the
net. Then, as the net rose higher, the whole weight of solid life began
to break into the daylight ; but, of course, we could see no more than its
surface layer, just the top thousands of 100 000 lish or more, each sliding
on each, and ail, as it were, moulded by the net into oneliving substance.
I cannot describe the niovement of the life in the net, because there is
nothing in the world which is like it. I can only say tliat I saw 100 000
hsh in the last few yards of a lifted net, each rushing and twisting over
each in every direction at an immeasurable speed, yet ail held in one
place by the net. A bag of the net got under one of the boats, and was
extricated and held up, and solid cascades of fish came whirling out of it.
The men w^ere swiftly baling^ heavy loads into the barge, many thousand
fish each minute, till at last they were standing almostup to the bips in
fish, and were in danger of overturning the barge. Ail within the circle
of us was one seething mass of lives moving on lives. They tell me that
the number of fish taken in the one net was 8i0 000 ; and would hâve
been double that but for a rent in the net. The weight of the take was
300 hogsheads ^ of good food, worth £400 of good money to the fishermen .
3. Laisser échapper. — 4. Emptying. — 3. Barrels.
Within the Cliîf.
IV
On hearing of my disappearance, the fishermen, with whom I was a
great favourite, put out their boats and rowed round the point that pro-
jected on the left side of the Cove. Some came in close to land, others
[159] ENGLISH PART 31
kept rather further ont to sea, looking for my body or any other tokens
of me. Alter their searchiiis for an hoiir, twilighl came on, and, in con-
séquence of the dangerous rocks aboiit, most of the boats withdrew.
However, as the tide was jnst on the turn, they left Tora Wheeler's boat
there to look for any traces of me on the rocks and up the diff. x\t last the
tide turned, and, after lingering for some time on the shingle-iiank,
receded and (|nickly tlowed down the sands, when Tijm Wlieelerand his
sons ran their boat on sliore. Tiiey groped about on the beach for some
time, and it appears that litlle Dick Wheeler cHmbed up as far as my
ledge, ail to no avail. The weather suddenly changed, and a strong
sou'wester -* came np vvith blinding rain. At length they gave up the
search, and returned home, empty-handed and sorrowful.
I must hâve been insensible for some hours when I at last returned to
myseif ; it was still dark in the cave, and I thought it useless, at night time
and with no means of striking a light, to attempt to lind a way of egress
from my labyrinthine fastness ^\ In thèse circumstances I lirst cleansed
the blood from ray face and niouth and tied my handkerchief round my
cheeks; I then groped about, and having found a smooth slab'-*^ which I
used as a pillow, I made myseif as eomfortable as possible, and tried to go
to sleep. I had in a way recovered from the fright the lall had given me,
but my mind was still troubled by the thought of the terrible anxiety my
niother wonid be in. Yet I succeeded in falling into a sort of doze^», full
of perplexing drcams. iVt one time I imagined that f was feeling my way
through the winding corridors, and had only just escaped tnmbling into
a crater-like abyss which led to the bowels of the earth. In spite of dreams,
l managed to spend the long hours of night in that huge bed-chamber.
1 was awakened by the pains of hunger, for I had not eaten a morsel ^"
since dinner the day before. The cavern was not now so dark, and light
seemed to corne from the many corridors ; from this I inferred either that
some of thèse passages led to the outer air, or that at some points there
were openings in the rocky roof. In the dim light that pervaded the cave
1 was able to perceive the objects I had discovered on the previons after-
noon ; I saw the old brandy-cask which had first excited my attention and
the Frencli lace, which I appropriated as a token of my conquest of this
cave. The little stream, which had been the means of my préservation
from the sea, llowed on through Ihe cave and entered on one of the larger
corridors. I was for some time uncertain whether to retrace my steps and
climb down the clift" to Shell-Cove or to endeavour to tind my way under-
ground to the village, lu spite of my hunger, 1 decided to take the latter
step.
At the very outset I was perplexed by the number of paths that led ont
of the cave, but, hnally, as the stream had gu ided me faithfully heretofore,
I resolved to trust it again. In case of entering on any exceptionally dark
place, I chipped another pièce out of the old brandy-cask to serve as a
torch, but the lirst portion of the passage was tolerably light. The portai
of this corridor was broad and spacious, like the gateway of a noble man-
sion, but, two yards within, the path suddenly turned to the right, the
stream still running in it, and became very much steeper. Then, almost
before I was aware of the change of level, I lost my footing and slid down
26. In the English Cliannel south-west wiiids usually cause storms. — 27. Prison.
28. Layer of rock. — 29. Assoupissement. — 30. Morceau ; a faite of anything.
32 ENGLISU PART [160 1
a shatV-like chasiii tweiity leet deep, the povver of the stream helping
my descent. My torch had been quenched by the water, but I could see
with perfect clearness that Iwasin another smaller grottool'similar form-
ation to the large cave, and at its further extremity the stream seemed
to begiii its sabterraiiean joiirney. I ran to the place, put my liand in the
oponing, and felt soit moss outside. 1 had then reuched the village green ^- !
[To be conlinued.)
Edward Percy Jacorsen.
31. PaiU. — 32. The grassy place usual iii English villages.
Literary Notes.
On consécutive days, death removed from the world of letters Joseph Hatton and
David Christie Murray, both of them most popular as novelists, dramafists, and jour-
nalists. Of laie Hatton had been editor of the Sunday paper Tke Peopk, and in it had
appeared his " Cigarette Papers ", attractive causeries in which he reiated liis expé-
riences and set forth his opinions. Araong his best novels were Cllltie (a story of
London life, afterwards draniatised), and By Order of the Czat\ a well-known Russian
t lie. Long connected with the stage (his daughter, Miss liessie Hatton, is an aclress), he
wrote réminiscences of his intimate friends the late Sir Henry irving and J. L. Toole.
Under the title of The HecollecUons of a Life Time are shortly to appear the niemoirs
of Christie Murray. His career was indeed a varied one ; atone time he was a private
soldier, at anothei spécial correspondent for The Times in the Russo-Turkish war. He
wrote inany novels, the best of which, an early one, was called Joseph's (loat. His
■work, too, was not unknown on the stage. For a long time as " Merlin ", he had
written in The Referce articles on ail subjects, and his bent had often been towards
the attempted elucidation of occult thèmes (Spiritualism, l'aith-healing, etc.) and poli-
tical or economical topics. His character was a strenuous one, and his opinions were
some times, to say the least, debatable.
* *
There are many good points in the Short IHai/s for tln' Sckoolroom by M. J.-R.
Lugné-Philipon, and pupils will certainly be interested when speaking and acting thèse
little pièces. Tiie subjects are sufficiently varied, and the words and phrases will furnish
a wide vocabulary. The idioms (semés à dessein dans le dialoijue] seem to include spéc-
imens of schoolboy " slang ", and " americanisms " are to be found hère and there.
The pièces on scientific subjects are parlicularly interesting.
E. P. .1.
The Merry-Maker.
The mother was assistiiig at the nursery dinner, and beheld with sor-
row that Peter was in the position of the late Jack Sprat \ declining to
eat any fat. " Peter, " said she reproachfuUy, " I ahvays eat up the fat 1
hâve. It's nice. " Peter looked at her gravely : " Mummy -, dear, " said he,
Vm leaving mine for you.
1. " .lack Sprat he ate no fat;
His wife she ate no lean ".
2. Mother.
Les Cinq Langues
No 5. 5 Décembre 1907. 8« Année.
ENGLISH PART
The Kaiser in England *.
The visit to England of the German Emperor and Empress proved a sreat
success, their slay vvith King Edward at Windsor and their enthusiaslic
réception on their passage through London to the Guild-Hall possessing
especial importance.
At the State banquet, given in St. George's Hall, Windsor Castie, on
November 12, the King gave the toast of " Their Impérial Majesties, the
German Emperor and Empress" in the following words :
In welcoming their Impérial Majesties, the German Emperor and Empress, to British
shores. let me express on behalf of the Queen and myself the great pleasure and
satisfaction it gives us to entertain them hère at this old and historié Castie.
For a long time we had hoped to receive this visit, but recently we had feared that,
owing to indisposition, it would not take place ; but fortunately their Majesties are
now both looking in such good health that I can only hope their stay in England,
however short, will much benefit tliem.
I hâve not forgotten the différent visits whicli you, Sire, bave paid hère from your
earliest childhood, and 1 regret to think that your last visit was such a sad one. [
shall never forget, as long as I live, the kindness and sympathy shovvn to me by you at
tlie time tliat the great and venerated Queen passed away.
Your Majesties may rest assured that your visits to this country are alwaysa sincère
pleasure to the Queen and myself, as well as to the whole of my people, and 1 not
only fervently hope for the prosperity and happiness of the great country over which
you are the Sovereign, but aiso for the maintenance of peace.
I NviU now drink to the health of their Impérial Majesties, the German Kmperor and
Empress, and. in doing so^ wish to express again to them the sincère pleasure it gives
us to receive them hère as our guests.
The German Emperor replied as follows :
Your Majesty's most kind words of welcome, addressed to the Empress and myself,
hâve touched me deeply.
Ties of close relationship and many dear memories of bygone days link me to your
Majesty's family.
Among thèse memories stands foremost the figure of my revered grandmother, the
great Queen, whose image is imperishably engraved in my heart, while the remem-
brance of my beloved mother carries me back to the earliest days of a happy
childhood spent under the roof and within the walls of this grand old Windsor Castlo.
The charms of old réminiscences are now enhanced by the warm réception your
Majesties are giving us on the occasion of our présent visit.
It also is my earnest wish that the close relationship existing between our two
familles may be reflected in the relations of our two countries, and thus confirm the
peace of the world, the maintenance of which is as much your Majesty's constant
endeavour as it is my own.
It is in this spirit that I thank your Majesty most warmly on behalf of the Empress
and myself for the kind and gracious words with which you hâve greeted us, and it
is in that spirit that l raise my glass to the health of your Majesty and of her Majesty
the Queen, and to the happiness of ail the members of your Royal house, my near and
beloved relations.
* See the German Part.
[26] *NGL 5
34 ENGLISH PART [202]
The Ktiiser is said to hâve besri wearing in Englarid Ihe famous HohenzoUern
talisman, which for centuries has been credited with a siipernalnral power
to prolect ils wearer from harmofany kind. This Impérial talisman, a massive
gold ring with a square, dark-coloured stone, which the Emperor is said to
wear on the middie finger of his lefl hand, has a highly romantic history,
dating from the days when his ancestors, the Margrafs of Nuremberg, foliowed
their leaders to the capture of the Holy Sepulchre from the Moslems. The
ring, which was captured in a hard-fought battle under the walis of Jérusalem,
came into the possession of Margraf Ulrich, from whom it has descended to
his successors, génération after génération, as a highly prized heirloom. The
sentence from the Koran which adorned the ring when worn by Saladin and
his successors has been removed, and a Latin cross engraved in ils place.
The Kaiser and King Edward are both of them firni believers in the
continuity of history, the une as a HohenzoUern, the other as the descend-
ant of the Saxons and the Plantagenets.
British Foreign Trade.
OCTOBER
Imports f57,662,H6
Increase on 1906 3,023,034
Exports 3^,319,520
Increase on 1906 5,085,189
Re-exports 6,873,392
Decreaseon 1906 268,490
It is gratifying to note from the Board of Trade ' returns that our export
trade continues to grow, the figures showing the substantial increase of
€5,085,189, or 15.30 per cent.; while the imports are larger by €3,025,054,
or 5.53 per cent. As on previous occasions lately, the improvement on
export account is mainly in manufactured articles, the most important
increase being that of € 1,154,924 in cotton goods. Machinery has increased
€621,982; iron and steel, €497,736; eiectrical goods and apparatus (other
than machinery and telegraph and téléphone wjrei, €401,821 ; ships (new),
€256,534; woollen goods, €201,466; and chemicals, €146,011. Inraw^mate-
rials, coal, coke, etc., figure for an increase of € 1,218,096 ; while the
increase in the quantity is 858,940 tons^ The net^ increase in food, drink,
&c., is only €7,732, but grain and flour bave gained £49,924, and tobacco
is € 21,492 more.
Among the imports the chief increase is in food and drink, &c., and
amounts to € 2,696,480, tiguring principally in grain and flour. Raw mate-
rials hâve improved 542,736, our receipts of wool being larger by € 494,222,
of cotton by £ 234, 534, of oil seeds, nuls, and gums by "'420,729, and of
hides and undressed = skins by * 149,192. Textile materials other Ihan cotton
and wool hâve declined €519,817, and wood and timber * 235,767. We
received a considerably larger quantity of wheat from the British East Indies
and from Russia, and rather more from Auslralia and Canada, but our
supplies from Roumania and Argentina were rcduced. Canada and the
States 6 sent us more wheat, meal, and flour, and our receipts from Germany
and France were larder, but a sinaller quantity came to hand from Belgium.
Russia and Roumania supplied us with more maize, and so did the United
States, but less was received from Canada and Argentina.
1. Ministère du Commerce, — 2. Unworked. — 3. One ton = 1016 kilogrammes
ou l''"""!,016. — 4. Net = net, gross = brut. — 5. Unprjpared. — 6. U. S. A.
[203|
ENGLISH PART
.33
For the ten months ending Ootober the iiii ports bave increased 7.06 per
cent., and the exports 14.87 per cent. The foUowing are the tigures :
Imports (ten months) P 532,793.839
Increase on 1906 33,158,439
Exports (ten monlhs) 337,600,684
Increase on 1906 46,312,108
Diiring October the imports of bullion ' increased €1,439 865, to €5,435,712,
and for the ten months €267,538, to £51,791,001. The exports for the month
decreased *; 2,897,489, to €7,3î:0,302, and for the ten months, €8,217,723, to
£45,569,550.
7. Lingol.
The Way of the World.
Sir Lewis Morris, a highly popiihir poet, has died in bis 75th year. He
took great interest in Welsb éducation, was an active politician, and, after
Tennyson's death, was thoiight like-
ly to become Poet Lauréate. But
Ihat post, after being left vacant
for some years, fell to another
scarcely first rate bard, Mr. Alfred
Aiistin. An unfriendly critic writes
of Lewis Morris in The Daily Teie-
graph :
In the years 1871, 1871, and 1875
appeared respectively three volumes of
poems, entitled " Songs of Two Worlds, "
l3y " A XewWriter." The moment did not
seem the most favourable one for the
aihent of a new candidate for poetic
honours, for Browning had but a few
years before at last caught the ear of
the public, and Tennyson, who was
making his last additions to what was
perlinps the most generally popular of
ail his Works, "The Idyllsofthe King,"
had reached the zénith of liis réputa-
tion. Nevertheless, the success of " The
Songs of Two Worlds" was immédiate
and distinct, and it was confirmed by
the réception given in the two fol-
io wing years to the tbree books of
" The Epie of Hades, " published in the same anonymous form. Nor was the vogue
which thèse two works obtained a merely temporary one. it was soon to appear thnt
the newcomerhad not oniy pleased the taste of a l:irge body of his fellow-countrymen,
but won their hearts. The popular demand for thèse two productions continuedun-
slackened throughout the eighties, and in the closing year of the century " The Songs
of Two Worlds " had reached ils twenty-third, and " The Epie of Hades " its Ihirty-
seventh édition.
Sir Lewis Morris.
One of Ihc points of greatest interest in the King's Birthday Honours was
the be>towal of knighthoods upon Mr. John H.4re. a most distinguisbed come-
dian, and Mr. Charles Santiey, a celebrated baritone vocalist. .\lr. Hare, who
hasbeen appearing atConimandPerformancesat Sandringham andat Windsor,
has been much esleemed by reason of his polished art for some forty years
36 ENGLISH PART [204]
past ; and henow receives an honour similar to tliose previously conferred
upon the late Sir Henry Irving, Sir Squire Bancroft, and Sir Charles Wynd-
liam. Mr. Santley, wlio recently celebrated his professionaljiibilee, was form-
erly well known upon tlie operalic stage, but bas for many years contined
himself to concert-work.
The Cullinan Diamond.
On his birthday the King received as a birthday gift from the Transvaal
Government the fanions Cullinan diamond. After an admiring inspection it
was taken to London to be placed with the Regalia in the Tower.
The Cullinan diamond is the largest, the most valuable, and Ihe purest
stone that bas ever been found. It weighs 3,025Vi carats, and its dimensions
are 4/^ in. in length, 2^{ in. in height, and 2|^ in. in breadlh. Its girth' which
varies, of course, with the position of measurement, is from » ^/i in. to
11 V4 in.; and its value was estimated, soon after its discovei-y, at more than
a million sterling.
The diamond was found, not in the course of ordinary mining opérations,
but by accident. An overseer namcd Wells, of the Premier (Transvaal) Dia-
mond Mining Company, was walking across the companys property, whir h
compri>es about 3,300 acres at Elandsfontein, when hesaw a small glimmer-
ing- surface in the snrrounding clay. This was in Jannary, 190^1, and the
stone, which was at once named after the chairman of the Premier Mining
Company, was forwarded to London, where it was exhibited.
Compared with the Koh-i-noor, or Mountain of Light, which is the largest
gem belonging to the British Crown, the Cnllinan diamond is incomparably
superior in ail respects. Its weight exceeds that of the famous Indian stone
by 2,919 'V16 carats. This, however, is an unfair comparison, for the new
stone is still uncut,and the Koh-i-noor bas been eut more than once. Never-
theless, the cutting of the ('ullinan gem — an opération which would cost
£40,000 — would not rednce its weight below 1,200 carats, which would still
give it the advantago, of 1,094 carats over the Mountain of Light. Yet even
the diminution of the stone by the removal of ail those parts which are
marked by flaws would not mean adead loss to its pioprietors by any means,
becanse the "chips"'^ rcsulting from the process would themselves provide
diamontls ranging from 20 carats '^ downwards.
The Cnllinan diamond is of an nnusiial shape. Its base is almost flat, and
it bas two areas of considérable size, which are also flat.
The four great diamonds which inight bave been said to challenge the
supremacy of the Transvaal jewel, had it not so great a superiority in size
and weight and colour, are the Koh-i-noor, the Pitt, and the Florentine
and the Oiloff diamonds. The Koh-i-noor traces ils origin to the legendary
past. Five thonsand years ago, the story goes, it was found in the Golconda
mines. After passing througb the hands of the founders of the Mogul dynasty
it came into the possession ollbe Persians whoinvaded India, and ultimate-
ly, when the Punjab was annexed,it was surrendered to Queen Victoria. The
Hitt diamond weighs 136V4 carats, and is of exceptional purity, and the
Orloir diamond, which is set in the sceptre of the Tsar, weiglis 194-Vt carats.
1. Circumference. —2. Shining. —3. Pièces.— 4. A diamond carat = S'A grains.
A grain = 0,065 grammes.
[2051 E>GLiSU PART 37
The Poor Man and the Rich Man
III
Now the rich man had what he desired, he rode homewards, and con-
sidered what he should wish for hiniseU'. As he was thns reflecting and
let the reins lali, the horse began to jump so that he was completely dis-
turi)ed in his thoughts and could not collect theni together. Then he
became angry with the horse and cried impatiently : " I wish you broke
your neck ". And as soon as he had nttered the words, he fell phimp
upon the earth ; the horse lay dead and rose no more, and the first wish
was fiillilled. Because, however, he was avaricions, he did not wish to
leave the saddle behind ; so he eut it otf, hung it on his back, and had
thus to return home on foot. Yet he comforted himself with the thought
that two wishes still remained to him.
As he was so goingthrough the sand, and as at mid-day the snn was
bnrning fiercely, he became warm, and morose of mood ; the saddle
pressed npon his back, and it never yet came into his mind what he
should wish. "If I were to wish for myself ail the riches and treasiiresin the
world ", thought he to himself, " still I should hâve after that ail sorts
of wishes, this and that; that l know beforehand. I will, therefore, so
arrange my wish that indeed nothing at ail remains for me to désire ".
As he was thinking that this time he really had something, yet after
thatitseemed to him far too little and petty. Then there came to him the
thought how comfortable his wife then was; she was sitting at home in
a cool room, and was enjoying her food. That made him right angry
indeed, and, without actually wishing it, he cried : " I wish she were sitt-
ing at home upon the saddle and could not get down, instead of my
dragging it with me on my back ". And as the last word came fronishis
mouth, so the saddle had vanished from his back, and he perceived that
his second wish also had been accomplished.
Then he became at tirst very hot, began to run, and wanted to set
himself at home quite alone and meditate about something great for the
last wish. But, as he arrives home and opens the door of his room, his
wife is sitting there, in the middle, upon the saddle, cannot get down,
and is wailing and crying. Then he says " Be satistied ; 1 will wish you
ail the riches in the world; only sit still ". She replied, however,
" What's the good to me of ail the riches in the world if 1 am sitting
on the saddle; as you hâve wished me on to it, so you must help me
down again ". He might like it or not; he had to make the third wish
that she might be free from the saddle and get down ; and the wish
also was fulfilled. Thus he had nothing from it but anger, trouble,
and a lost horse; the poor couple, on the other hand, lived contented,
peacelul, and pions until their blessed end.
{The End.) The brothers grimm.
[Translaled from the German.)
* See the four other Parts.
38
ENGLISH PART
|206]
Wine-making in Italy.
It was an extremely interesting siglit to watch the whole process of
wine-making, from tliepliickingofthe grapes to the treadingofthe wine-
press. The wines were trained on trellises' upon the tops of low l)anks,
terraced one above tiie other on the hillsides. each bank having a path
between,and the grapes were gathered from both sides, mostly by giris and
women, one on one sideof the trellis, and one on the other. The grapes
werepiled in round baskets and borne- ongirls' heads down to the villa,
and there, at the cellar door, an expert seiected the grapes, putting the
besttogetherforthe first quality ofwine, and soon. The grapes were then
put into great vats \ which had spouts^ in them, and the men would get
in and tread them down with bare leet, when the resuit would be seen in
a red stream gushing from the spout into adeep oval-shaped tub. When
this was full, two men would lift it up and pour it into a hogshead %
standing on one end and open at the other.
Any grapes that had escaped the treading floated to the surface, and
were squeezed by the tingers oi a person who saton the edge of the open
vat. There were minor processes of the kind, and the scène in the cel-
lar was always interesting, especially at night with the (luiet tlickering
lampused. Other implements were curions, too, such as a ladle made ont
of a gourd. The wine was left to ferment, risiiig in a tremendous dark
froth during the process, and was tinally drawn off into huge tlagons
ofgreen glass enclosed in wicker. An experienced aged peasant super-
intended the opérations throughout.
WA.LTER Crâne.
An Artisl's Réminiscences.
i. Treillis. — 2. Carried. — 3. Cuves. — 4. Tuyaux. — 5. Big barrel.
The Glow-worm '
The Apes found a Glow-worm,
Shining in the night, —
A litUe drop of radiance
Tenderly alight ;
Ho ! Ho ! shivered the Apes,
Grinningall fogether,
We'll makea tire to warm us;
'Tis jolly cold weather.
With dry sticks and dead leaves,
AH the A|)es came ;
Piled a heap and squatted- round
To blow it into flame.
1. Ver luisant.
Sat.
But tire would not kiridle so —
Vain their wasted breath !
Only they blew ont the glow —
Put the worm to death.
Glow-wornis were meanltoshine;
Apes can't blow them hot,
Just to warm their foolish hands,
Or boil their tlesh pot.
So the World would serve thePoet,
With his iight of love :
Probably his use may be
Better known above ^
Gerald Massey.
3. Evidently writteii when the poet
was out of humour with the world.
|207J KNGLISH PART 3&
Within the Gliff.
Up to this titiie the excitement under vvhich 1 was labouring had been
povveiiïil eiiough to repress the etïects of iny long fast, but now a reac-
tion took phice. I felt that 1 was physically iinable, fora time at least, to
climb up through the opening to what 1 was sure was the surface of the
land. It was now nine o'clock in the morning, and i sat for some time
near to the slream, trying to recover my strength, with a full view of the
grotto. I soon saw more signs of the former présence there of smugglers ;
several packages containing lace, and an alinost vvorn-out coat were a few
paces before me.
I stretched out my hand, and feeling in the pockets of Ihis old coat,
I found a memorandum-book hlled with very yellovv vvriting. After read-
ing a few pages, [ discovered that it was the smugglers' account-book,
containing entries of " su many baies ^^ landed June 20th; so many
kegs^* on June 26th ", and so on. 1 did not feel very interested in this,
and \\as just about to close the book when my eyes fell on the following
mémorandum : ■' August 17lh, 1813, Settled liill Hoskins's account for
" blabbing '^^ "; he may be found strung -"^ up in the big cave ". A few Unes
further down 1 read " Bill Hoskins was a traitor ; revenue-officers are on
the look-out". For fear of mishaps 1 leave coat in the inner cave. Will
close up the cliff door ". After Ihis no more entries had been made in the
book. and I concluded that the smugglers had corne to grief about that
time. " Bill Hoskins ", then, was the skelelon.
I again went to the aperture caused by the stream, and placed my
hand on the moss I had formerly felt. I then strove to widen the open-
ing, but the rock hère was harder than the sandstone cliH' had been.
My elforts were ail in vain, and my hands were covered with blood. 1 now
felt almost inclined to go back again through the long winding passages
and echoing caves, but before I reached the other side of this smaller
grotto, I became aware that in mv weak state, together with the pain
which still continued in my face and mouth, I should most probably
faint again before reaching the clitf. At last a happy thought slruck me;
1 went to the opening, put my hand in it again, and began to shout as
loud as I could. For 1 was almost sure there would be someone on the
Green who might come to the stream on hearing my cries. My voice was
for the most part drowned by the rush of the water into the cave, and was
also repeated by echoes in my subterranean prison. After a few minutes,
however, i uttered a piercing shriek, and soon felt something licking my
hand, which was still stretched out on the moss. It was my dear old dog,
Jack, the water-spaniel, that had discovered me. He then began to bark
loudly, and soon attracted some of the villagers. On learning of my
famished condition, they passed some victuals down the hole, and then
began towork with pick-axes ^^ on the rock, cautiously, however, at lirst
lest 1 might be sufl'ocated by a too sudden influx of water. I retained
consciousness till 1 saw the blue sky, but then the inévitable reaction
came.
33. Ballotx. — 34. A small barrel. — 35. A slang term for being an informant.
36. Hiing with cord. — 37. Qui-vive. — 38. Pics.
40 ENGLISH PART [208 1
At home, where I had been quickly taken, 1 told the whole story of my
escape from the sea, and my strange adventures in those unknown sub-
lerranean places. The lacts stated in the smiigglers' pocket-book were
corroboi-ated byseveral ofthe old people of the village, who well remem-
bered having heard tell of a desperate tussle ^^ between the revenue-otf-
icers and the smugglers tovvards the autumn of 1813. In afew days I re-
covered from the weak state to which I had been reduced. AU those
nnderground passages were explored by officiai gentlemen; and for
months afterwards 1 was visited by interested people who wished to
know what I had seen and done within the cliff.
Edward Pkrcy Jacobsen.
39. Conflict.
Holidays at Home,
The foUowing dialogue, which is translated irom a German paper,
seems to indicate thattlie burden ofthe summer holiday weighs asheav-
ily on the Continental mind as on that of a section of the British public :
" Well, and hâve you spent a pleasant holiday ? "
" Yes, thanks. Don't l look as if 1 had?"
" Indeed you do. I hâve never seen you look better. Not everybody
profits by the holiday tour as you hâve done. ""
"No. Butthen I was particiilarly fortunate in my choice. 1 liked the
place 80 much that I mean to spend my next holidays there again. "
" Good cooking? ''
" Excellent. You could gel anytliing you wished l'or. "
" Pleasant company ? "
" Delightful people. And, best of ail, no formalities. We could do
exacllv as we liked. "
"Quiet?"
*' I never was in a more quiet place. "
" Bedsall right?"
" First rate. Private bathroom, too. "
" But very ex[)ensive, no donbt ? "
" On the contrary, it was the cheapest holiday I ever had. "
" But, man, tell me the name ofthe place ! "
" 1 stayed at home. "
Literary Notes.
It is difûciilt to over-estimate tlie value olThe Workakop and ail about it by M. Léon
Marissiaux. No Knglishman, and certainly no English youth, is acquainted with ail the
technical terms used in the varions trades and crat'ts. But under the auspices of
M. Marissiaux la Jeunesse française will acquire such useful knowledge, bothin French
and in English. It is an excellent ideato put at the end ofthe book the French équi-
valents of the technical and idiomatic terms. The longer Knglishpassagesarejudiciously
composed and well adapted to interest the young learner. Could not M. Marissiaux
add two more chapters, on Itook-bimling (a favourite craft now as always) and on
Priniing ?
E. P. J.
Les Cinq Langues
N<>6. 20 Décembre 1907. 8» Année.
ENGLISH PART
The Christmas Book-Market.
ir, genlle reader, 1 could ti-ansport you by fahled wishing-cai'fteL orby per-
fected aéroplane across Ihe Channel, and set you down on the premises of
any great publisher, circulating library, or important bookseller, you svould
tind book-cases, shelves, coiinters ail gi-oaning under the weight of books
and magazines destined for the Christmas market. Some are books of gênerai
interest, to serve as présents for friends; olliers are sumptiioiisly-ilhisti-ated
and gorgeously-bound tomes; most are meant for cljildren only. But so
great is the profusion, so infinité the variety that the largest London papers
hâve fiUed pages, (eight columns broad) wilh the advertisements of publish-
ers and reviews of some of the books thus advertised. It were easy, indeed,
to transcribe the names of books by the hundred and of authors by the score;
but I rnusL pick and choose. Among the chief firms one might mention
Messrs. Rlackie, Cassell, Nelson, Chambers, ail long associated with the publi-
cation of books for the young.
The copyright of Alice in Wonderland (by the late Lewis CarroU) having
expired, several new éditions are appearing, some with fresh illustrations
inslead of the old cbartiiing ones by Sir John Tenniel. Hans Andersen's Taies
are also repiinted ; Mr. Andrew Lang has added The Olive Fairy Book to his
many different-coloured volumes of previons years, and fairy taies appear
both in old and in new forms. There are stories of adventure or of school-
life, romances of invention, travel-stories for boys; milder taies for girls,
and countless books, many with pictures, for the sraaller children in the
nursery. Not to speak of the Christmas taies and verses in the magazines
and annuals. Thus the favouritcs of my boy-hood take their places togcther
with new-comers on the shelves of the bookmarket of Christmas, 1907.
E. P. J.
*
» #
We cannot refrain from appending one or two of the charming stanzas on
Christmas Gift-Books recently written for The Daily Telegraph by the schol-
arly critic and reviewer, Mr. W. L. Courtney. A little girl is represented as
dreaming.
'Tis there she dreams and bends her brows
To hive new riches from the store,
VVhicli Santa Clans, in wild carouse,
Fhngs from the bookshops at her door,
Books green and red and russet ' — ail
Aflame for Christmas carnival!
Ali hiippy little maid, if we
Could dream like you, the long day tlirough,
So sweetly, innocently free
Alike of rosemary - and rue ' —
Perhaps — perhaps — the books you prize
Might give us back our Paradise !
1. Reddish-brown. — 2. A plant signifying " remembrance ". — 3. A plant mean-
ing " sorrow ". See Ophelia's Mad Scène, in Hamlet, IV, 5.
f32J ANIÎL. 6
42 ENGLISH PART [250]
Christmas Bazaars.
The greatshops hâve alreadybeen exhibiting some oftheir Christmas goods,
and aniongst them are toys and games. It is, indeed, none too soon for those
who hâve to send seasonable mementoes and greetings to India or the more
distant Colonies ; while there are many also who prefer to do their shop-
ping in ease before the great rush just before the festival. The children
are especially wellcared for in the matter of spectacular attraction, and will
tind a paradise of delight in the imposing displays arranged on their behalf.
In onc department " Alice in Wonderland " holdssway. There is afascinating
group, in which the little lady herself looks ont from a cottage window upon
ail tlie familiar personages — the March Ilare, the MadHatter, the Dormouse,
the Mock Tnrtle, and the rest, in the forms in which they first revealed
themselves in the original drawings. [f one passes a shilling or sixpence to
the attendant, a miniature motor will bringout a small parcel. At the higher
price there maybe small shoe lifts or button hooks witli a bit of silver mount-
ing, well-balanced Diabolo sets, and many other nice things. There is a
similar arrangement for " parcels delivery" in connection with " The Dolls'
Garden Party," where the inquisitive public of grotesque dolls which rise
iip to see from behind the wall thegay doings of the splendidly-dressed young
ladies, is really humorous. Humpty Dumpty is so arranged Ihat every time
he falls he brings down a box of excellent chocolaté. Every imaginable kind
of toy is to be found; from old favourites costing but a few pence up to costly
railway Systems and completely furnished dolls' lieuses running into several
guineas a-piece.
Though sonic of the newspapers hâve tried to create a furorc for Diabolo,
it is being played (as it should bc) mainly by childi-en. Out-of-doors it is of
soine inconvcnience to passcrs-by.
Queen Victoria's Coronation
1 was awoke at four o'clock by the guns in the Park, and could not get
much sleep afterwards on account of the noise of the people, bands, etc.,
etc. Got up at seven, feeling strong and well ; the Park presented a curious
spectacle, crowds of people up to Constitution Hill ■^, soldiers, bands, etc. I
dressed, having taken a little breakfast before I dressed, and a little after. At
half past 9 I went into the next room, dressed exactly in my Floase of Lords
costume. At 10 I got into the State Coach and we began our Progress. Tt was
a fine day, and the crowds of people exceeded what I bave ever seen ; many
as there were the day I went to the City, it was nothing, noihing lo the mul-
titudes, the millions of my loyal subjects, who were assembled in every spot
to witness the Procession. Their good humour and excessive loyalty was
beyond everything, and f really cannot say how proud I feel lo be the (Jucen
ai such a nation. I was alai'med at times for fear that the people would be
crushed and squeezed on account of the tremendous rush and ])ressure. I
reached the Abbey ^ amid deafening cheers ; 1 lirst went into a robing-room*
quite close to the entrance where I found my eight train-bearers, ail -dressed
alike and beautifuUy in white satin and silver tissue with wreaths of silver
corn-ears in front, and a smalt one of pink roses round the plait behind, and
1. Her own account. — 2. A road that lends from Hyde Pnrk Corner past Ruck-
ingham Palace. — 3. Westminster Abbey. — 4. Where the monarch puts on the royal
attire.
[251] ENGIISH PART 43
pink roses in Ihe trimming of the dresses. After putting on my manlle, and
the yoiing" ladies having properly got hold of it, I left the robing-room and
Ihe Procession began. The sight was splendid ; the bank of Peeresses qnite
beaiitiful ail in their robes, and the Peers on the other side. My yoiing train-
l)earers were always near me, and helped me whenever I wanted anything. At
the beginning of the Anthem, I retired to St. Edward'sChapel. a dark small
place imniediately behind the Altar, witli m y ladies and train-bearers, took
off my crimson robe and kirtle, and put on the supertunica of <:loth of gold,
also in the shape of a kirtle, which u-as put over a singnlar sort of little gown
of linen trimmed with lace ; I also took off my circlet of diamonds and then
prooeeded bare-headed into the Abbey ■' ; I was then seated iipon St. Edward's
chair, where the Dalmatic robe was clasped round me by the Lord High Cham-
berlain. Then followed varions things, and last, the Crown being placed on my
head — which was, I must own, a most beautiful impressive moment —
ail the Peers and Peeresses put on their coronets at the same moment. The
shouts, which were very great, the drums, the trumpets, the firing of guns,
ail at the same instant, rendered the spectacle most imposing. The Enthroni-
sation and the Houiage of, first ail the Bishops, and then my Uncles, and
lastly ail the Peers, in theii- respective order, was very fine. When Lord Mel-
bourne's s turn to do Homage came, there was loud cheering ; they also
cheered Lord Grey and tho Duke of Wellington ' ; it's a pretty ceremony ;
they tîrst touch the Crown, and then kiss my hand. When my good Lord
Melbourne knelt down and kissed my hand, he pressed my hand and I grasped
his with ail my heart, at which he looked up with his eyes filled with tears and
seemed much touched, as he was, I observed, (hroughout the whole
ceremony. The Letters of Queen Yictoria *.
5. The reader may compare the pubHshed accounts of King Edward's Goronation.—
6. lier first adviser and Prime iMinister. — 7. The Great Duke.
• Published by authority of the Kmg, and edited by A. G. Benson and Viscount Esher.
Dickens and Father Christmas.
Dickens'sindependencc of Jiterature ismoreprominently secn in the Christ-
mas books than in ail his other works. Those who will take the trouble to
digdeep,deepdownintothefilesofthe A//iewa?M>w' willcome upon the following
furgulten Unes. They were written by me, but I must needs quote them in
order to establish the tact that DickCTis became a myth in his lifetime.
A raygedgirl in Drury Lane was lieard to exclaim : ■' Dickens deadl Then will
Father Christmas die too?"
" Dickens is dead ! " Beneath that grievous cry
London seemed shivering in the summer - beat ;
Strangers took up the taie like friends that meet ;
'■ Dickens is dead ! " said they and hurried by ;
Street children stopped their games — they knew net why,
Kut some new night seemed darkening down the street.
A girl in rags, staying her -way-worn feet,
Cried : " Dickens dead ? Will Father Ghristmas die ? "
Gity he loved, take courage on thy way !
He loves thee still, in ail thy joys and fears.
Though he whose smile made bright thine eyes of grey —
1. For years Mr. Watts-Dunton contributed to this journal. - 2. June 9, 1870.
ENGLISH PART [252]
Though he whose voice, uttering tliy burthened years,
Made laughter bubble through thy sea of tears —
Is gone, Dickens returns on (Jhristmas Day ^ 1
On that never-to-be-forgolten summer day, when London was to be robbed
of Charles Dickens, I was walking disconsolately down Driiry Lane, when
I heard a girl with a shawl over her head, standing at the corner of one of
the side streets and talkingto a companion, exclaim : " Dickens dead? Then
will Father Christnias die too"? " My feet were arrestod, and I torned and look-
ed at the speaker. I saw at once what was her line of life. She was one of
those '' barrow-girls " '* who rise long before daybreak and go with their hiis-
bands, or their young men to Covent Garden Market--, and, getting there as
early as 4 o'clock in the morning, wait wliile the men make their bargains
with the market gardeners s, and afterwards aid them in sellingthe purchases
in the London streets. I know the class well, and hâve thegreatest respect for
them. It was from her I learnt that there were at the time thousands and
thousands of the London populace who never read a line of Dickens — who
never, indeed, had hadan opportunity of readinga line, but who were never-
theless, familiar with bis nantie. They looked upon Dickens as the spirit of
Christmas incarnate; as being, in a word, Father Christmas himself.
Letmepursuemy fancy'about Dickens"s return to London on Christmas Day.
Let us imagine bis return on the Day now close at hand. Ile wonldnotbe quite
as perplexed as was Itip Van Winkle on bis return from the Catskill mountains.
having seen the clianges in bis beloved city year by year. Rut where would
he now find himself at home? Famine Street alas 1 he would find the same.
But what about the bourgeois " Christmas heartb ? " He would find that very
cold, and he wonid bave to turn into the smart restaurants — beautiful " gen-
tility-stores ", where gentility can be bought at so much a meal, and where
the well-to-do bourgeoise can flash her diamond and her paste in the electric
radiance, just as enjoyably as diamond or paste could be tlashed in the
noblest country house by the noblest oï grandes dames. He would yeai-n in
vain for the rubicund face of Mr. Fezziwig ». Yet he would not feel ([uite without
friends even in thèse genteel times. He would find a remuant still of the
" old-fasbioned Fezziwig party ", as certain writers bave called us — " the
party of plum-pudding and good will ", as others bave dubbed » us — those who
stilllove Mr. Fezziwig and bis Christmas bail, those who long, long ago were
familiar with the beloved green covers of the monthly parts of bis novels as
they came oui! Yes, Dickens would lind a remuant, a weakling, wasting rem-
nant — to whom, in spite of ail the changes, he returns on Christmas Day,
Théodore Watts-Dunton *
in The Nineteenth Century and After.
3. A good exampie of the English Sonnet.— 4. Wheel-barrows are used by the small
fruit and vegetable sellers. — 5. This should be visited early on a summerniorning.
6. Mariiicher. — 1. Based on the Christmas Jiooks. —8. See .4 Christmas Ciirol. —
9. Called.
* The distinguisliod critic and poet with whom Mr. Swinburne lives.
Gerald Massey (1828-1907:
Gerald Massey, once a celebrated and much admired poet, bas died in
bis 80th year.
The poet, in bis early days, knew what it was to sufîer and be strong. He
was the son of a canal boatman, one of anumerous family, and at eight was
sent to work in a mill for a wage of ninepence a week. An early piclure of
[253]
ENOIISH PART
45
Ilis lit'e was tliat of tlie conflagration which destroyed th" mill, wliile lie
and the other little ones danced in tlie rain and mud at sight of tlie red
flame tliat set Ihem free. Later
came straw-piaiting ', a childhood
racked hv ague, sometimes the
wliole l'amily prostrate and starv-
ing ! As the young poet: snid
himself : " I hâve iiad no childhood.
Ever sinee I can rememher I liave
liad the aching fear of want, throh-
hing in heart and hrow ! "
When fifteen, Massey came toLon-
don to run errands. His love of
literature had. however, by this
lime been awakened, andhe used
to buy books when he oiight to
bave hoiight food. By-and-hy he
became connected with the Chartist
movement, wrote for Thomas Coop-
er's Journal and the Clirislian So-
cialist, met with Charles Kingsley
and F. D. Maurice, and at tive-and-
twenty had written " The Ballad of
Babe Christabel" and other poems
wliich won immédiate récognition.
Landor wrote of him as "a
new Keats " and " a new Shakes-
peare of the Sonnets. " " Your
poems hâve been a helpful and
precious gift to the working-class, ''
said Ruskin. " A m an and a bro-
ther, dowered - with the hâte of
hâte, the scorn of scorn, the love of love, " wrote Dr. Samuel Smiles, the
author of Self-Eelp. For many years past Massey had devoted ail his
attention to the study of Egyptology and of Spiritualism, and therehy the
world bas been a loser.
Hedealtwith " Sir Richard Grenville's Last Fight" before Tennyson, hand-
ling the thème witli force and vigour. [t is generally thought that the Laur-
éate modelled his " Defence of Lucknow " on " llavelock's March.
It has been said of Massey's poetry thaL it is " thickly strewn with heaii-
ties, '" and so itis. Landor quoted, with glowing admiration, the lines :
" Tlie starry soûl that shines when ail is dark.
Endurance that can sufTer and grow strong,
Walk through the world with bleeding feet and smile 1
Many of his metaphors and similes are extremely beautiful :
" We climb like corals, grave by grave,
That hâve a pathway sunward. "
" Hope builds up
Her rainbow over memory's tears. "
Innumerable examples might be quoted from his war lyrics, as :
" of the shuddering battle-shockSj
Where none but the freed soûl fled ".
Geralil Massey.
\. To plait = Trrxxcr. — 2. (lifted.
46 ENGLISH PART 1.254 1
Christmas.
A blithe' old Carle^ is Ghrislmas ;
Yoii cannot find his fellow';
Match me the haie red rose in his cheek.
Or the heart so mild and inellow ;
The glitter of glory in his eyes,
t;! Whiie the Wassail'^-cup he quaffs'^,
Or the humour that twiukies abouthis wrinkles
As helplessly he laughs.
Ot'all High ïides'^'tis Christmas
Most riclîly crovvns the year ;
Right through the land there ripples and runs
Its ilood of merry good cheer.
ïroops oif'riends corne sailing down,
Makinga pleasantdin' ;
Flingopen doors ! set wide yoiir hearts !
Christmas is coming in.
A happy time is Christmas ;
W'e gather ail at home.
And like the Christmas lairies,
With their pranks* our darlings corne :
And gentle Sylvan» Spirits hid
hi holly-boughs thoy bring,
To grow into good An gel s,
And blessour lairy-ring!
A jolly time is Christmas,
For Plenty's horni^is ponred ;
Then llows the hoiieyofthe Sun,
Our l'ruits ail su m mer hoard !
Merry men tall raarch up the hall :
They bear the méats and drinks ;
And Wine, with ail his hundred eyes,
Your hearty welcome winks
A glorious time is Christmas ;
Young hearts will slip the tether'' ;
Lips moist and merry, ail under the berry'-,
Close thrillingly together.
A gracions time ! the poorest Poor
Will make some littlc sliow.
As ailing'^ inl'ants, seeing the l'un.
Will do their best to crow !
And 0 the Fire of Christmas,
That like some Norse God old,
Mounts his log'^ up-chimney and roars
Dehance to the cold !
He challenges ail out-of-doors ;
He wags his beard of llame ;
It warms your very heart to see
llim glory in the game.
Gerald Massey.
1, Merry. — 2. An oM vvord for fellow. — 3. One to tnntch him. — 4. Christmas merr-
imcnt. — 5. Driiiks. — 6. Times. — 1. Noise. —8. Sportive jokes. — 9. Woodhind. —
10. The cornucopia. — 11. Attache. — V2. The holly and the mistletoe. — 13. III. —
14. Bûche de Noël.
[2551 ENGLISH PART 47
A Taie of Ghristmas Trees.
When the tirst snow fell, Christmas-tree Land vvas covered wilh the
thick white mantle it always wore till the spring's soft breath ble^v it
oti'again. '• A storm is coming ", said the fairy godmother ' oi)e after-
noon to two children, when she had beeu spinning^ some lovely stories
for them with her invisible vvheel. " A storm is on its way ", sherepeat-
ed, " yoii must hasten home. " It was as she had said — the storm-spir-
its were in the air. Above the wind and the crackling of the branches,
brittle ^ with the frost, and the far-off cries of birds and other créatures
on their way to shelter in their riests or lairs % came a slrange indescrib-
able soiind — the voice of the storm. The wind howled, the sleet and
bail dashed down, the thiinder growled, and the storm spirits liad it
ail their own way for that night and the day following; but the second
night the turmoiP ceased, and snow fell quietly. yet heavily. No moon
was visible, but a soft light gleamed over ail, and the children could
see nothing but the smooth white expanse, and trees looking strangely
fantastic, half shrouded as by a white garment. They stood for some mi-
nutes in perfect silence. Suddenly a very slight crackling was heard
among the branches, and a dainty little figure hopped into view from
the shade of some low bushes. It was a robin-redbreast ^ He stood still,
bis head on one side, as if in deep considération, when suddenly a soft,
low peculiar whistle was heard, and the little l'ellowstarted,as if it were
a signal he had been listening for, and then hopped forward, looking
up at the children with an air of invitation. In a minute or two they
found little wings growing on their shoulders, and to their great joy
managed to fly quite easily, following their faithfui little guide. On and
on they flew, till the robin stopped, wheeled ' round, and began slowly
to tly downwards till he reached the borders of a great forest, when he
disappeared. The children touched the ground almost before they knew
it, and seemed to be standing in the centre of a round valley, and ail
about them were rows and rows of Ghristmas trees; for they were in
Santa Glaus's garden, and ail the trees were loaded with toys and gifts
l'rom Fairy-Land.
Adapted from Mrs. Moleswortu.
1. Marraine. — " Spiimiiig ;i yarii "' is a sailor's pluase for telling a story. — 3.
Kasv to break. — 4. Repaires. — 5. Noise and stril'e. — 6. houije-gorge . — 7. Tiirued.
Sarah Bernhardt and Edison*.
The carriage drew up at the house of the famous Thomas Edison. A
group of people awaited us on the verandah — four men, two ladies,
and a young girl. My heart began to beat quickly as I wondered which
of thèse men was Edison, l had never seen hisphotograph, and I had the
greatest admiration for his génial brain. l sprang out of the carriage, and
* See the four other Parts
48 ENGLISH PART [256]
the dazzling electric liglit made it seem like daytime to us. I took the
bouquet which Mrs. Edison presented to me, and, while thanking her,
I tried to discover which of thèse men was the great man . AH four men
advanced towards me, but I noticed the llush that came into the face
of one of them, and it was so évident from the expression of his blue
eyes that he was intensely bored ' that 1 guessed this was Edison. I felt
confused and embarrassed myself, for I knew very vvell that I was caus-
ing inconvenience to this man by myvisit. He of course imagined that
it was due to the idie curiosity of a foreigner eager to court publicity. He
was no doubt thinking of the interviewing in store for him, and the stu-
pidities he would be made to utter. He was suffering beforehand at the
idea of the ignorant questions I shouid ask him, of ail the explanations
he would be obliged to give me, and at that moment Thomas Edison
took a dislike to me. His wonderful blue eyes, more luminous than his
incandescent lamps, enabled me to read his thoughts. I immediately
understood that he must be won over, and my combative instinct had
recourse to aH my powers of fascination in order to vanquish this
delightful butbashful savant. I made such an effort, and succeeded so
well that half an hour later we were the best of friends. 1 followed him
about quickly, climbing up staircases as narrow and steep as ladders,
Crossing bridges suspended in the air above véritable furnaces, and he
explained everything lo me. I understood ail, and I admired him more
and more, for he was so simple and charming, this king of light.
As we were leaning over a slightly unsteady bridge above the terrible
abyss, in which immense wheels encased in wide thongs - were turning,
whirling about, and rumbling % he gave varions orders in a clear voice,
and light then burst lorth on ail sides, sometimes in sputtering greenish ^
jets, sometimesin quick tlashes, or in serpentine trails like streams of fire.
1 looked at this man of médium height, with rather a large head, and a
noble-looking profile, and I thought of Napoléon I. There is certainly a
great pliysical resemblance between thèse two men, and I am sure that
one compartment of their brain would be found to be identical.
Of course I do not compare their genius. The one was destructive and
the other créative, but whilst I execrate battles 1 adore victories, and in
spite of hiserrors I hâve raisedan altar in my heart to thatgod of death,
to that god of glory, Napoléon ! I therefore looked at Edison thoughtfully,
for he reminded me of the great man who was dead. The deafening sound
of the machinery, the dazzling rapidity of the changes of light, ail that
together made my head whiri, and forgetting where I was, 1 leaned for
support on the slight balustrade which separated me from the abyss
below. 1 was so unconscious of ail danger that, before I had recovered
from my surprise, Edison had helped me into an adjoining room and
installed me in an arm-chair without my realising how it ail happened.
He told me afterwards 1 had turned dizzy.
Mij Double Life, by Sarah Beuniiabdt'.
1. Ennuyé. — 2. Courroies. — 3. Gronder. — 4. Kather green ; (he " ish "' means
H n peu .
* From her Memories, recenlly publislied in Knglish in book-form.
Les Cinq Langues
N" 7.
5 Janvier 19C8.
8= Année.
ENGLISH PART
The Way of the World.
^^^
The late Lord Kelvin (1824-1907).
Lord. Kelvin, so ion-- known as Sir William Thomson, lias died in his
84th year. He maintained to llic end liis povvers of reasoning and of inventive
imagination, discoursing on radium even al the last meeting of the British
Association at CamJtridge. He
was certainly one of the grealest
physicists of his time, and some
hâve compared him to Isaac
Nevvton for his inductions as to
matler, force, and the elher. He
may or may nothave been right
as to Ihe âge of the vvorld. giving
it far fewer million years than
do the geologists, and not every
one can comprehend Ihe theory
of atoms ; but ail remember
his Knowledge of electricity and
his application of thaï Knowledge
to Ihe submarine Atlantic cable.
He always applied his iearningto
practical ends, and one firm is
occupied solely with the manu-
facture of " Lord Kelvin's pa-
tents ''. He invented ail sorts of
instruments (q. g. his tide-pre-
dicting machine, and his improv-
ed mariner's compass). At Cam-
bridge he was Second Wrangler,
being beaten only l>y the speedy writing of his competitor, and at Glasgow
University he celebrated his jubilee as Professor of Xatural Ptiilosophy.
Like other men of science he was often absent-minded. He was an original
member of the Order of Merit.
On December 23 his remains were laid to rest in the nave ot Westminster
Abbey, nextto Newton's grave and near to those of Darwin and Lyell. Among
the pall-bearers were Lord Rayleigh, Mr. .John Morley, and M. (iaston
Darboux, Perpétuai Secretary of the Academy of Sciences of France.
MM. Lippmann and Henri Becquerel were also among the countless scienlitic
mourners at a funeral as great as that of Newton in 1727.
[ 38] ANAL. 7
Lord Kelvin.
50
ENGLISH PART
L298J
Miss Florence Nightingale and the Order of Merit.
Centml Chancery of the Orders of Knightliood. — Lord Chamberlain's Office,
St. James's Palace, iNov. 29,. 1907 —
The Khig has been gracîously pleased to
make the following appointement to the
Order of Merit : Miss Florence iMglitingale.
Miss Florence Nightingale completed
lier 87thyear on May 12 last. Fifty-three
years ago, she won for herself iindying
lame for lier services in tlie Cririiean
War, and for the introduction into onr
social System of the art of niirsing. Her
work after niany a battle, beginning
with liikernian, was of priceless value
to our wounded, and she establislied at
Seulari hospitals a splendid System. A
testimonial in récognition of lier work
j-eached the sum of £50 000, the whole
ofwhich shedevoted to the foundation
of the Nightingale Home for tlieTrain-
ing of Nurses.
lier name was familiar throughout
ail Europe and America; during the
Franco-German war she was fi'equently
cunsulted on questions affecting the
health of the Arniy, and similarly in
tlic American Civil War.
Tlie Order of Merit was called into
existence by his Majesty Edward VII.,
and instituted by lelters-paicnt, dated
.lime 23, 1902. The badge of the Order
is a cross enamelled in redandblue. In
the Slatutes of Ihe Order it is ordain-
ed that " the Ordinary members of the Order shall not cxceed the nnmber
of twenty-four. " It has been commonly assumcd that the distinction was
limited to men ; but though Miss Florence Nightingale is the first lady
entitled to use the ietters " O.M. " afler her name, Ihere was in the institu-
tion of the Order no such limitation as that referred to.
Amongst the représentatives of Science are Lords Rayleigh, and Lister ;
Ml'. John Morley and Mr. «ieorge .Meredith are for Literature, and
Mr. Holman Hunt for Ait.
Miss Florence Nightingale.
Royal Shopping.
King Edward and Oueen Alexandra do not visit shops in London save
in the most exceptional circumstances. It is believed that Oueen Victoria,
throughout her long reign, onlyonce entered a shop. As Prince and Princess
of Wales, their présent Majesties at rare intervais paid a visit to some spec-
ially-favoured tirm, but it was at Marlborough Housc that the présent
System of commanding the shopkeepers to send représentative sélections of
their wares, which would be inspected at leisure, was first established.
The instructions generally lay down the class of wares' that her Majesty
desires to see, but there is ahvays a considérable degree of hititude allowed,
and a real noveltv mav alwavs be included. Several rooms at Buckingham
1. Goods.
[2991 ENGLISH PART 51
Palace are sel apart in which the displays are made, and in some cases
the collections sent ai'e so lar^e as to be assigned a spécial apartmenl to
themselves. A responsible niember of the firm goes down with the Ihings
chosen, and he can hâve as many tables as he may requirc on which to
display them to their best advantage. He is not, however, présent when
they are examined by the Queen, and he is, thereFore, allowed in the case,
say, of anything of which the piirpose niight not be at once apparent, or of
a moveable or mechanical dcvice, to give any explanations to the lady-in-
waiting. Not infreqiiently, too, while her Majesly is looking at the various
items, a téléphone inqiiiry as to the source or origin, or on some other
point, is received at the shop from Buckingham Palace. In regard to the
price of everythingsent in, there isa tixed raie, and that is, thatitsnet cash -
selling tigure miist beplainly markedupon it, and if this is at ail a " fancy "^
one, the article is likely to be passed over. The name of the shop supplying
each item must also be clearly indicated.
2. Argent comptant. — 3. Exaggerat&d to suit Ihe purse of a wealthy custoiner.
Marine Insurance.
Story of its Development.
In the reign of James II., a Mr. Edward Lloyd established in Tower-street
a coffee-house', whither were wont to resort sea-captains from Ihe neigh-
bouring docks, ship-owners, and merchants. In 1692 he removed to the corner
of Lombard-street and Abchurch-lane, taking a considérable portion of his
clientèle with him. Hère it became customary to hold sales of ships, cargo,
and merchandize. The proprietor made it his practice to gather what infor-
mation he could respecting the movements of ships, and post such infor-
mation on the walls of his coffee-house. Ont of this custom came later the
publication of a news-sheet, entitled " Lloyd's List," the title of which exists
to this day in combination with the prefix " The Shipping Gazette," as the
officiai organ of' Lloyd's. " Bankers and other men of capital now came habi-
tually to the cofTee-house to meet ship-owners, captains (who also frequently
owned the vessels they conimanded), and merchants ;and in return for certain
premiums, which were on a very différent scale then from wbat they are
now, subscribed, or " underwrote," a promise, or "policy," to pay a certain
amoiint in the event of loss. Thèse mon thiis came to be known as "iinder-
writers"'2. The iiext stage in the évolution was that of the broker, who acted
as intermediary between shipowner or merchant and underwriter. The
business of Lloyd's gradnally grew until it became necessary to seek other
premises. A number of subscribers banded^ together, a Royal Charter was
obtained, and eventuaily the institution of Lloyd's was established in the Royal
Exchange.
In the early days spoken of, marine insurance was simplicity itself. The
vessels were of small tonnage, ranging from 30 to 500 tons. In the small
octavo volume which suffictently did duty as " Lloyd's Register"' 100 years
ago, a vessel of 500 ions was a very fine craft> indeed, and stood in the same
relation to other vessels as a modem dmard leviathan of 20,000 tons does to
her humbler sisters. The owner of the vessel was generally a merchant also.
He used to buy a cargo-'' of goods, load one of his ships up with it, and insure
the lot en bloc. Ail the interests were thus in one pair of hands, but with the
growth of commerce and increase in the size of vessels shipowning itself
became a separate business, and noAv a large cargo-steamer carries the
interests ofdozens, perhaps evenof hundreds, of merchants and lirokers, each
1. Café. — 2. Assureur. — 3. Joined. — 4. Ship. — 5. Cargaison.
52 ENGLISH PART 300]
une of which becomes llie .subjcct of a scpai-alc iiisiirance. So now we hâve,
firsl, Ihe Insurance on huile and machinery ; second, tho insucance on freight —
that is to say, the profit the ovvner expects lo make bv carrying the
n)erchant,s' goods ; and, ihird, the iosurance of the cargo — tliree separate
interests ; and out of this subdivision of interosls bas grown thaï most
complicated featureof marine insuranceknown as " gênerai average.'" General
average may be defined as loss sustained through some sacrifice of ship-gear''
or cargo made deliberately by the captain, or extraordinary expenses incurred
by hini in the gênerai interest of ship, freight, or cargo. For example, if a
shi)) laden with coal in bad weather goes ashore, it is freiiuently necessary
to lightcn the ship by Ihrowing ail or part of the cargo into the sea in order
to float the vessel. This loss does not fall upon the owners of the coal alonei
but is divided proportionately between ship, freight, and cargo. Or in the
case of a vessel carrying gênerai cargo, if in a)i emergency any portion of
the cargo is sacriticed, the owners of the rest of the cargo must also pay
their proportion. To take another illustration, it may be that in very heavy
Aveather a sailing ship may roll so seriously as to threaten to capsize^ To avert
this danger the captain will order the masts to be cul away. In that case the
owners of the cargo must share with the owner of the ship and freight the
cost of the sacrifice. But the vai-iations of gênerai average are infinité, and
hâve provided more work for the lawyers, and donc more to pile up the mass
of précédents of wbicli marine insurance law at présent consists, than ail
olher causes of litigation put togelher.
The introduction of steam is another factor which has complicated the
praclice of marine insurance. In former limes the " voyage policy" was the
only one known. A ship was insiired from her sailing port to hei- port of
tinal destination, and — generally — for Ihirty days. Il is now customai-y to
insure steamers engaged in regular trades for the period of twelve monlhs.
This involved the introduction of the continuation clause, which provided
l'or the steamer being covered unlil she reached port in the event of her being
at sea at the time of expiry of the policy. To the consternation of Lloyds this
clause was declared a few years ago to ho an infringemenl of the Stamp Act,
but was legalized by the then Chancellor of the Exchequer liy the insertion oi
a spécial clause in his Finance Act. Another form of insurance rendered
necessary by the exigencies of modem business conditions is the " cover '
System. A merchant having regular shipments from liis correspondents or
agentsabroad Hnds it inconvénient, andeven dangerous, to effecl an insurance
on each consignment, as he may not receive advices as to what the value of
the consignment is unlil after the steamer has sailed, so he instructs his
broker to put forward a " slip " for, say, i 100,000, on certain specified
merchandize, and gels a policy imderwritten for that amonnt. Then on receipl
of advices IVom his friends abroad as to Ihe value of shipment, be " déclares"
that amount oft the policy. Thus in the case of the total loss of a big steamer,
underwriters fiequently do not know the extenl of their commitments until
some lime after the disaster. The Tribune.
0. Coque. — 7. Machinery. — 8. Chavirer,
William Makepeace Thackeray.
The Merry Bells ring in the Christnias Day,
While in onr hearls a mournful knell is knoll'd.
As other tidings thro' the land are roH'd —
Telling of a great spirit pass'd away '.
1. Thackeray died on ChristmasEve, 1863.
[301] ENGLISH PART
o3
Anolhcr heart ol' English Oak gone down,
Like sonu> Ihree-deckcr striking « with no word
Ofwarning; sails ail sot; ail liands aboard ;
When sunnicst skies are smiling wilh their crown.
Low lies the slately form that lower'd so tall,
Wilh life so liisty % and wilh look so brave ;
The head thvown back, as if to breast the wave
For many a year — the wave that whelmelh ail.
For ail the sobs that rise, or tears that rain,
No more fond, fatherly words for Lad or l.ass,
No more across his manly face will pass
The light of passion, or the shadovv of pain.
We never told oiir love! He would bave thought
We pratlled* prettily, amnsed the vvhile
And held us at a distance wilh bis smile,
Until we hid the présents we bad brought.
New we migbt strokethe almostvoung, whilebair,
And evon kiss the cold and quiet brow ;
The heart niay bave ils way, and speak ont now.
Ile will not niock us, lying silent Ihere !
He had onr English way of niaking fun
Of those sby Ceelings which our hearts will liold
l.ike dew-drops ail a-lremble, and enfold
Them wilh ourslrength— sacred fromstorm*andsun.
He kepl bis Show-Box scant of Mirrors wherc
You saw Eternily whose worlds we pass
Darkly by daylight, but, wilb many a glass,
Reflecting ail Ibe Humours of Ibe Fair!'
The Ihousand shapes of vanity and sin ;
Toy-stalls of Salan ; the mad masquerade :
The tloating Pleasures that before theni play'd;
The foolisb faces following, ail a-grin.
He slily prickt the bubbles *■ Ihat we blew ;
He cheer'd us on to chase onr thistle-down ^ ;
Crowning the winner wilh a fool's-cap crown;
And Bons-bons motloed in quaint mockery threw.
Then in the merry midst some sad strange words
Would louch tlie springof lears. Hiseyes were dry.
And, as \our laughters ceased, were wondering why
Laugh onl He had only slruck the minor chords!
He was not one of those who are light at heart
Recause His empty in ils airy swing :
He found the world too full of sorrowing,
But show'd us how to smile and bear our smart.
And year by year, slill kindiier to the last,
He drew us towards him ; showing more and more,
The heart of honey, human to the core,
Thatinto Love's fuli flower ripened fast.
•2. (Areef). — 3. Vigorous. — 4. Chattered like children. —5. Vaiiily Fair, his
novel. — 6 Soap- bubbles. — 1. Coton de chardon.
54 ENGLlSfl PART [302]
Thus Music sweetens to the latest broath,
And doser draws the leaning, listening ear ;
And slill it whispers, from ils heaven near,
Of some more perfecl sweelness beyond death.
For us — [ know you would liave us put away
The tear» ; draw doser, fill thegap^ and keep
Old kindly custoais, sing the sorrow asleep,
And ail make merry, this being Chrislmas Day.
(iERALD Masse Y,
8. Vacant space.
The Miser *.
" Unkicky that l am !" complainedamiser lo his neighbour, " the treas-
ure whicli I had biiried in my garden lias been stolen from me diiring
the night, and an acciirsed stone has been put in its place! "
" In any case ", repbed the neighbour, ^' you would not hâve derived
any benefit from your treasure. Imagine to yourself, therefore, that a
stone is your treasure, and you are none the poorer. "
" Even if indeed I were none the poorer", answered the miser, '• is
notanother so much the richer'^Ânother so mucli the richer ! ( should go
mad ! "
Lessing.
* See the four olher Parts.
Garibaldi in England.
Far beyond our admiration for the House of Savoy was our adoration
for Garibaldi, the man who made the Sardinian and Savoy Kingdom that
of Italy. Ilis heroic figure seemed the very idéal of ail that l)oys long for :
calm courage in the hellof battle, a léonine ' confidence thatcommunicat-
ed courage to ail around liini, the fixed résolve to ventiu-e life, and ail,
on the cast of fortune, at the right time; the crusade against despotism,
bigotry, and bad government of ail sorts, as we were taught in England
to consider the normal state of ail the little Courts of the Italian Penin-
sula. What a wondrous réception the people of London - gave to this sin-
gle-hearted volunleer soldier ! There were too few police in the streets to
keep order, although theGovernment might haveanticipatedan enormous
crush ^ Theonly organised men to assist the police were the vohinteers
from England who had served under the Genez'al during his cainpaign.
Thèse were a most usefui band to keep a way for him in his entry into
London. For the people were beside themselves with enthusiasm. I never
saw a crowd so genuinely excitedand delightedin England. The numbers
1. Lion-like. — 2. In t86i : red shu'ts were then called " Garib:ildis ". — 3. Crowd.
[303] ENGLISH PART 55
were vast, and with siich niimbers it was impossible there could be good
order, for the crowd was helpless against itself. -''
The Duchess of Sutherland had iiivited the General to take up his abode
at Staftbrd House, and had sent to the station one of the open carriages
she ahvaysiised. Four horses drew it, two postillions riding them, while
four persons could be seated in the carriage, and there was a " rumble''
behind, which held Iwo footmen.lt was with the greatest ditiiculty that the
lame General could be got into the carriage through the crowds at the sta-
tion, and then began a mosttoilsome, slow,andatonetimeeven dangerous
journey, through the streets, and across the bridge. It was on the bridge
Crossing theThames that the moment of péril came. The people, unable
to w'ithstand the pressure of tlieir own ntimbers, forced the carriage on
one side oftheroad and then further even, on to the sidewalk. One
of the postillions often told me how he ihought his last hour,and thatof
the General, had come. For it seemed as though the carriage would be
pushed over the parapet into the Thames below. The horses were at the
barrier, but the red-shirted volunteers. and a few police, madea desperate
effort and the seething crowd was forced back, and the carriage was
dravvn on to the centre roadway. The arrivai at Stafford House was again
a scène ofsomewhat dangerous, because utterly uncontroUed, turbulence.
Hands clung on ail sides to the carriage. The weight was so great on the
rumble behind that it came dovvn bodily, with the two footmen in it,on
theheads and shoulders of Ihe mob. But again the red-shirted volunteers
did manfully, and squeezed a track through the multitude and then had
the greatest difficulty in preventing the people from entering the house
with the General. The great mahogany doors had to be pressed back
against a mass of humanity that seemed determined to enter, in sheer
rollicking enthusiasm.
The Dure of Argyli .
The Adventure at the Inn.
So hard was the road, and so feeble were the mules that, notwith-
standing a midday hait' to rest them, it was nightfall before they reached
the top of the Sierra, and, in the last sunset glow, separaled from them
by the rich plain, saw the minarets and palaces of Granada. Now they
wished to push on, but their guide swore that it was impossible, as in
the dark they would fall over précipices while descending to the plain.
There was an inn near by, he said, where they could sleep, starting again
at dawn. When Gastell- said that they did not wish to go to an inn, he
answered that they must, since they had eaten what food they had, and
hère on the road there was no more fodder for the beasts. So reluctantly
enough, they consented, knowing that uniess they were fed, the mules
would never carry them to Granada, whereon the guide, pointing ont the
house to them, a lonely place in a valley about a hundred yards from
the road, said that he would go on to make arrangements, and galloped
off.
1. Stoppage. — 2. An eldeily merchant of Jewish descent.
56 ENGLISn PART |"304]
As lliey approached Ihis hosteiry, vvhich vvas surrounded by a rough
wall for piirposes of defence, they saw the youth engaged in earnest
conversation with afat, ill-favoiired^ man who hadagreatliiiifestuck lohis
girdle. Advancing to them, bowing, this man said tliat lie was the hosl'%
and, in reply to their re(|iiest for food and a room, told them that they
could hâve both. They rode into the coiirtyard, whereon the inn-keeper
locked the door in the wall behitid them, explaining that it was to keep
ont robbers, and adding that they were fortunate to be where they could
sieep qiiite safely.
Then a Moorcame and led away their mnles to the stable, and they
accompanied the landlord into the sitting-room, a long, low apartment
furnished with tables and benches, on which sat several rongh-looking
fellows, drinking wine. Hère the host snddenly demanded payment in
advance, saying thathe did not trust strangers. Peter^ would haveargued
with him; but Gastell, thinking it best to comply, unbuttoned his gar-
ments to get at his money, for he had no loose coin in his pocket. His
right hand still being helplesss this he did with his left, and so
awkwardly that the small doubloon'' he took hold of slipped froui his
lingers and fell on to the floor. Forgeltiug that he had not re-fastened the
beit, he bent down to pick it up, whereon a number of gold pièces of
varions sorts, perhaps twenty of them, fell ont and rolled hither and
thither on the ground.
Peter, watching, saw the landlord and the other men in the room
exchange acjuick and signilicant glance. They rose, however,and assisted
to find the money, which the landlord retiirned to Gastell, remarking
with an unpleasant smile, that if he had known Ihat his gnests were so
rich he wonld hâve cliarged them more for iheiraccommodation. " Of yonr
good heart 1 prayyoïi not, "answered Gastell, " for that is ail our worldly
goods, '" and even as he spoke another gold pièce, this time a large
doubloon, vvhich hadremained in hisdothing, slipped to the lloor. " Of
course, Senor, " the host replied, as he pickeîl this up aiso aiid lianded
it back politely, '• l)ut shako yourself, tliero may still be a coin or Iwo
in your doublet. "(Gastell didso, whereon the gold in his belt, loosened
by whathad fallen out, rattled audibly% and the audience smiled again,
while the host congratulated liim on the fact that he was in an honest
house, and not wandering on the mountains. which were the home ot
so many had men. Haviiig pocketed his mouey with the best grâce he
could, and l)uckled his belt beneath his robe, Gastell with Peter sat down
at a table a liltle apart, and asked if they could hâve souie supper. The
host assented, and called to the servant to bring food.
[To be conlinued.)
Abridged from Fair Margarel, by II. Kider IIaggard.
3. Ugly. — 4. Hôte ; inn-keeper. — o. A young Englisliman. — 6. From a previous
accident.— 1. A Spanish coin. — 8. Shook so that it was heard.
Les Cinq Langues
Ko 8. 20 Janvier 1908. 8« Année.
ENGLISH PART
The Way of the World.
The Umbrella.
If social liistory is to be tnisted, the first Englislitnan lo carry an umbrella
was Josiah Ilanway, wlio lived at the end of the 18lh century, and after
vvhom Ilanway StreeL, Oxford Street, is named. At first lie was regarded as an
cccenli'ic iiidividual, but by degrees many discovered much method in bis
inadness and, before he dicd in 1786, the fashion he set wns adopled by
Society in gênerai. Of course Hanway was not the originator of the umbrella.
Araong the Greeks and Romans some such article was very conniion, thoiigli
it was regarded as a purcly féminine appanage, and one which men might
never condescend to adopt. Hut ail over the East the umbrella bas for
générations been well known as an insignia of powcr and royalty. Thus, on
the sciilptured remains of Egypiian temples one sees représentations of kings
going in piocessioii with umbrellas carried over their heads. Even in India
to-day some of the grcat Maharajahs still call themselves " Lords of the
Umbrella,"' and in an address presented by the King of Biirmah to the Viceroy
of India in iS^io, the British représentative is described as the " monarch
who reigns uvei- the grcat umbrella-wearing chicfs of the Easl."
Under five Monarchs.
" I am very tired of it ail ; I don't want lo see another Ghrislmas or another
birthday," were among the last words utlered by Mrs. Sarah Lamb, who died
in St. Paneras Inlirmary, in her 106lh ycar.
Up to the last, the old lady, altliough bedridden', maintained most of lier
faculties. In her more cheerful moments she woiild relate how she had lived
under tive sovereigns, and she recollected being told to cnrtsey^ as King
George lit. passed by. She had had many opportiinities of seeing George IV.
and William IV., and, of course, the late Queen Victoria. At the lime King
Edward came to the throne, she was an inmate of St. Paneras Workhouse,
and it was one of her happiest réminiscences to describe how she was driven
in a cal) to Buckingham Palace in order to see bis Majesty.
Lord Kelvin's Romance.
There was an élément of romance in the late Lord Kelvin's second mar-
riage. It was at the Canary Islands that the great scientist met his bride-to-
be, and her apparent in'terest in scientiflc pursuits drew them quickly
1. Coiifined to bed. — 2. Fairr. une révérence.
f44| ANGL. S
38 ENGLISH PART 13461
together. The scienlist went to great length to iinfold a new syslem of
signalling, and as lie said good-bye to the lady on the bridge of bis yacht on
leaving, he looked al her and smilintfly said : " Do yoii think you understand
the System now ?" " Oh, yes," replied his lady friend, " I am sure I under-
stand." " Then," said the scientist, " watch the vessel as it disappears from
view, and I will flash you a message. " The message was : " Will you be my
wife ?"
The Post-Office al Christmas.
The stress ^ of Christmas work was felt at St. Martin's-le-(irand'- from
the last week in October. On Christmas morning, over 13 000 Londoii postmen
sallied foi'th with the greatest delivery London has ever had. Some of thèse
men had been on duty from midnight, and it was well into the afternoon
before some had got rid of their lastletter.
Mr. Briggs, vice-controller, said that the usual 8,000 extra assistants were
this year augmented by between 200 and 300 more, and that as even then the
work took longer than usual, the previous record mus! be surpassed by scv-
eral million letters and parcels.
The outside ^ men began to be engaged in October. The Uncmployed Com-
mittee * supplied a large number of men of ail callings. The foreign mail for
ail parts had an increase, in the last week of Oclober, of 500 bags over the
corresponding week last year, and increases of 1 000, 1 200, and 2 000 bags
respectively in ensuing weeks. After that, the increase dropped gradually.
Mr. Biiggs stated that in an ordinary week they would handle " in London
53 000 000 letters and newspapers, ])ut during Christmas week of 1906 they
dealt with 25 000 000 more. This year (1907) the increase was very much
heavier. The parcels dealt with in London in an ordinary week are a bout
1 OOO 000, but in Christmas week lOOG the total coUected and delivered
amounted iu round figures to 2 270 000. This Christmas, Ihe parcels Iraffic
was a long way ahead of last year.
" The public ", says Mr. Briggs, " did iiot pay much lieed to our notice to post
early, with the resuit that on the three days preceding Christmas we liad the biggest
collections and deliveries vve hâve ever experienced. Every postman in London, besides
about 2 500 outside men, was on duty on Christmas Day. On Christmas Eve we had
to send out postmen to collect from the boxes every hour, and in many instances the
piilars were full to the very top. A number of those who came on duly at midnight
were on ail nigbt, and went out delivering on Christmas morning, but the majority
came on at 5 a. m. Altogether over 13 liOO men were engaged in delivery work,
which is the largest number we bave ever had outside at any time. We liad to send
out assistants as carriers to the postmen, and when the load was lightened the car-
riers came back and took more to the postmen, or went out delivering themselves. "
At Mount Pleasanl (formerly Goldbath Fields Pi-ison), there were 30 million
letters and 2 i million parc(ds.
Senders from the Continent pack wilh laborious care. They hâve an eye
only to immunity from damage and certain delivery. They begrudge' neither
wood, tin, paper, nor string. Be its contents confeclionery from Germany,
sweetstnffs'' and scents from France, or cigars from Rolland, the package is
in ncarly every case proof against weather, rough usage, and ]U'ying^ eyes
othor than those of the Custom-House otticers. There is a parcel hère, little
t. Strain. — 2. The (Mènerai Post-Offlce (G. P. 0.). — 3. Not on the regular staff.
— 4. bistltuled to iind work for deserving persons. — 5. Mankr. — 6. Spare. — 7.
Jionhons. — 8. Inquisilive.
[347] ENGLISH PAKT 59
bigger than a largo book, tied up in a network of string that a curiou.s esti-
mato nK'.isiii'es mil td at Icast Iwenty yards, knots and ail iiudiidod.
Now as lo tlic lolter departments, whicli covcr two lloors, eac.li some five or
six acres in extent. They are a wonderful sight, as the missives corne in by
millions from the conslantly-arriving vans and are thrown down on the
tables lo be assoiled. There is no excuse for delay. As soon as each mixed,
helerogeneous pile^ is deposited, it is rapidly dealt with. Any laxity in this
respect would Icad to hopeless confusion. A pile is finished, and for a few
minutes the staff take breath. Suddenly a fresh consignment is brought in,
and immediately nimble fingers and eyes trained to remarkable acuteness
are arranging them in companies and units. Where would the old-fashioned
System of stamping by hand be in thèse days ? You see the lelters now put
through a machine and stamped much quicker than the eye can foJlow or
the brain count them, at the rate of 600 or 700 a minute. A youth standinf
near one of thèse, machines leisurely stamping by hand packages of an
exceptional character supplies an interesting comparison of the old and the
new. You hâve not time to traverse the whole length of thèse busy tables, for
put end to end they would stretch a mile and ahalf, but in the long perspec-
tive you see the same orderliness, the same deftness, the same energy being
exercised to dispose of the marvcllous Christmas correspondence of 1907.
9. Heap.
The World's Fuel Supply.
It is eslimated thattheworld's coal production in 1906 was about 905 million
tons, to which the United Kingdom contributed rather less than a tliird.
Nine-tenths of the total were raised by five countries, and their output' foi'
that year, and also for 1904 and 1905, is given below, in tons:
1904 1905 1906
United States . . . 314122000 350821000 369672000
United Kingdom . . 232'i:-'8000 236 129000 251068000
Germany 118 874 000 119 350 000 134 914 000
France ^ 32964000 34652000 33762000
Belgium 22 395 000 21506 000 23 232 000
In the United Kingdom, the United States, and Germany, the production in
1906 was greater than in any previous year. In France the lalling-off' of
nearly 1000000 tons may be accounted for by the strike^ in the northern
coallields early in the year. The production of the United States now exceeds
that of the United Kingdom by nearly SO per cent., whilst, on the other
hand, the production of Germany represents only about a haif, and that of
France and Belgium together rather more than a quarter of the production
of this country.
As compared with its population, the production of coal in the United
Kingdom still surpasses that in the United States. It amounts to 3| tons
per head, whilst in the United States it is rather more than4| tons. In
Belgium the figure is 3^ tons per head, in Germany about 2^ tons, and in
France under 1 ton.
Amongst the outlying portions of the Brilish Empire, India has the great-
est output, with 9783000 tons. Canada follows with 8717000 tons, and Aus-
1. Production. — 2. Grève.
60 l'.NGLlSH PART ^3481
tralia wilh 8 596000 tons. Next cornes Ihe Transvaal wilh no more than
2583000 tons.
The nunibei- of persons employed, above and below ground, in each of Ihe
principal producing countries, was : United Kingdom., 837100; United
States, 62«300; Germany, 493300; France, tTl.ïOO; and Beigiiim, 13i700.
As regards Ihe outpul per person employed, the United States takes the first
place with 560 tons, the United TCingdom second place wilh 282 tons, Ibllowod
by Gerniany, France, and Belgium, with 242 tons, 202 tons, and 159 tons
respectively.
The United States is far and away the greatest consumer of coaî, as well
as producer, and her total consumption was more than twice that of the
United Kingdom. In the folio wing table the consumption in tons is given for
the leading countries, botli as a total and per head of the population :
Total Per head.
United States 361492000 4.30
United Kingdom 174329000 3.99
Germanv 112-282000 1.94
France. 50 298 000 1.28
Railway locomotives in the United Kingdom used 12093000 tons in the
year, as compared with 11593000 tons in 1905, and 11445000 tons in 19u4.
France was the best customer for Brilish coal, taking 8381000 tons, and
Germanv, in spite of her own lai-ge exports, took 7512000 tons from us.
France imported altogelher 182890UO tons, and Germany 10175000 tons.
Petroleum prodnced in the United States in 1906amounted to 4587 mill-
ion gallons, as compared with 4 715 million gallons in 1905, a décline of
228 million gallons. The Baku oil fields of Russia, which are accoiintable for
the major part of the production of that country, yielded 1845 million gallons
in 1906, which, though larger than the rolatively small output in 1905 (1 691
million gallons), is still considerably less than in most récent years. The
qnantity exported from Riissia was considerably less than that from the
United States.
Sweet Lavender.
Lavender has long been grown for the production of oil of lavender. The
species cultivated for this purpose is, according to the Journal ofthe Board of
Ayriculiure, an evergroen shriib aboul -fl. in height. It was introdnced inlo
England in 1568, and tlourished remarkably well under cultivation, yielding
an oil far superior in delicacy of fragrance to that obtained from the wild
plant or from the same plant cultivated in any other country. In a favourable
locality a single plant will form a bush 5ft. in diameter. The English oil is
still considered the best, and generally fetches the highest price.
The principal lavender plantations of England are in the districts ofMitcham,
Garshalton, and Reddington in Surrey, Ilitchin in llertfordshire, and Canler-
bury in Kent. The harvest dépends on the season, but as a gênerai Vule may
begin in the fîrsl week of August, if the weather be dry. The best oil is obtain-
ed in hot droughty ' seasons. An average yield of 251b. weight of oil per acre
may be obtained, but much dépends on the energy and personal superinlend-
ence of the grower and care in the distillation.
Most potently is the old-world charrn of lavender exercised in Surrey,
1. Dry.
[349] E.NGLISII PART 61
whcre, around Wallington, the lavender-fields stretch in beauty for acre after
acre, and invest a whole countrvside with a new and siiblle delight. The
advance of mechanical knowledge bas driven romance from the hay-field.
There, with whizz^ and clank- and clangoiir -, the mowing-machine and the
binder^ tiirn the fields inlo factories and the husbandman into the mère
workcr of a pièce of mechanism. Sweet lavender knows how to liold siich
things at arm's length. In hcr domain the reaper still goes sickle in band —
though the Siirrey labourer calls it a " hook '" — and still is lollowed by the
gleaner, miich asRuth followed them tbat wrought for Boaz. The lavender
grows in long rows, with liltle avonnes between.
Even in London streets one hears bronzed conntry-womcn crying out the
old refrain : " Sweet lavender ! Who"ll biiy my lavender? "' and with little bags
filled with lavender the linen in the chest of drawers is preserved from the
ravages of the moth.
2. Terms signifying various noises. — 3. Binding-machine.
The Emperor Francis Joseph*.
My dearest, best Victoria,
... The yoiing Emperor I confess I like much, there is miich sensé and
courage in his warm blue eye, and it is not without a very amiable merr-
iment when there is occasion for it. He isslight and very gracef'ul, buteven
in the mêlée of dancers and Archdukes, and ail in uniform, he may always
bedistinguished as the Chef. This struck me more than anything, as now
at Vienna the dancing is also that gênerai lyiêlele which renders waltz-
ing mostdifrici.ilt...The mannersare excellent and freefrom pompousness
or awkwardness of any kind, simple, and when he is gracioiisly dispos-
ed, as he was to me, very hearty andnatiiral.
He keeps every one in great order without requiring for this an outré
appearance of authority merely because he is the master, and there is
that abont him which gives authority, and which sometimes those >rho
hâve the authority cannot succeed ingetting acceptedorpractisiivj. ithink
he may be severe si Voccasion se présente; he has something very spirited.
We were several times surrounded by people of ail classes, and he cer-
tainly quite at their mercy, but I never saw his expression changed either
by being pleased or alarmed.
The Letters of Queen Victoria.
* Written by the King of the Belgians (I.eopoM 1) in 1853 to his nièce, Queen
Victoria. — Seë the four other Parts.
Thoughts at Noon.
The stillness and the spell ' of the blue noon
I drank and felt a spirit from the sun
Of deep and utter ^ bliss steal down on me,
1. Charm, witchery. — 2. Extrême.
62
ENGLISH PART
[350]
Steeping ^ m y soiil in peace. I seemed to be
At one with the creator and atrest,
Sucking the sunbeam with no afterthought.
Surely 'tis much, I said, to be alive,
To hâve drawn in beauty thro' the eye, the ear,
The nostril, to hâve breathed al! wandering airs,
And seen this trembling glow, and heard, as now,
Birds warbling in aerial rivulets;
To hâve known thèse things, and to thank God and die.
Stephen Phillips*.
3. Tremper. — *This modem poet's best works are his CJirist in Hades, Marpessa,
and his tragedy, Paolo and Francesca, based on the lines in Dante.
The Adventure at the Inn.
Il
A while later their food came — and with it wine in an earthenware
jug, whicb,as he filled their horn mngs% the host said he had poured
ont of the tlask himself so that it miglit not
be spoiled. Gastell thanked him, and asked
him to drink a ciip to their good journey;
but he declined, answ^ering that it was a fast
day with him, on which he was sworn only
to drink w-ater. Now Peter, who had said
nothing ail this time, but noted much, just
touched the wiiic with his lips, and smacked
them as though in approbation, while he
whispered in English to Gastell: "Drink it
not; it isdrngged !'"" " What saysyourson? "
asked the host. " He says that it is delicious,
but siiddenly he remembered what I too
forgot, that the doctor forbade us to touch
wine. Well,let it notbewasted. Give itto yoiir
friends. We miist be contented with thinner
stuff. " And taking up a jug of water that
stood upon the table, he filled an emply cup with it and drank, then
passed it to Peter, while the host looked at them sourly.
Then, as though by an afterthought, Gastell rose and politely presented
the jug of wine and the two lilled mugs to the men who were sitting at
a table close by, saying that it was a pity that they should not hâve the
benelit of such tine liquor. One of thèse fcllows, as it chanced, was their
own guide, who had come in froni tending the mules. They took the
mugs readily enough,and two of them tossed ' ' olf their contents, whereon,
with a smothered oath, the landlord snatched away the jug and vanished
with it. Gastell and Peter went on with their meal, for they saw their
neighbours eating of the same dish, as did the landlord also, who had
ll.UinKR Hagoard.
9. A kind of cup. — 10. Drogué. — 11. Threw their heads back and drank.
[351] ENGLISH PART 63
returned, and, it seemed to Peter, was watching the two men who had
drimk. the wine with an anxious eye. Presently one of thèse fliing himself
dovvn on a bench, and becaine qiiite silent, while tlieir guide fell lace for-
ward on the table, Avhere he remained apparently insensible.
The host sprang up and stood irresolute, and Castell, rising, said the
poor lad wassleepy after his long ride, and as they were the satne, would
he show them to their room ? " This way, Seîiors, " he said, and led
them to a broad step-ladder '2. Going up it, a lamp in his hand, he opened
a trap-door '3, Castell foUowing hiin. Peter, however, hrst turned and
said goodnight to the others, at the same tinie, as though by accident^
half drawing his sword froni its scabbard.
Then he too went upthe ladder into the attic'^.
It was a bare place containing only two chairs, and two rough wooden
bedsteads that stood against a boarded partition. There was a hole in the
wall that served as a window, over which a sack was nailed. As the land-
lord turned to descend the ladder, Castell said to him : " Friend, tell your
men to leave the stable open, as we start at dawn, and also give me that
lamp." " I cannot spare the lanip," he grunted sulkily. Peter strode to
him and seized the lamp. The man fumbled'" at his belt as though for a
knife, but Peter twisted his arm so liercely that he loosed the lamp, which
remained in Peter's hand. The innkeeper made a grab at it, missed his
footing, and rolled down the ladder to the floor below.
Then Peter shut down the trap-door. It was ill-htted as the boit had
been removed, but as the staples'*' remained. Peter tied thèse across
with a cord from his pocket, so that the trap-door could be opened only
an inch or two. " We are snared birds, "' said he to Castell ; " we had
best keep awake to-night. " Accordingly they sat on the beds, their bare
swords in their hands, and waited a long while, but nothing happened,
At length the flickering lamp went ont, and they were in darkness. The
nightwore^^ on, when suddenly a chair that was set upon the trap-door
fell with a great clatter^^ as if some one below had tried to open the
trap-door.
For a long tinie nothing further happened, then a slight creaking and
scratching in the wall, and suddenly, right in a ray of moonlight, a cruel-
looking knife and a naked arm projected through the panelling*". The
knife llickered for a second over the breast of Castell who lay sleeping,
but Peter with a svveep of his sword in that second had shorn off that
arm above the elbow. " What was that ?" asked Castell, rousing up.
" Look up and see, " answered Peter, Castell obeyed, staring in silence
at the horrible arm which still clasped the great knife, while from
behind the panelling there came a stifled groan.
" Come, " said Peter, " letus be going ; that fellow will soon be back
to seek his arm. " "Going! How?" asked Castell. "Through the
window, and over the wall, " answered Peter. They ran to the window,
and looked ont ; it was not more than twelve feet from the ground. Peter
helped Castell through it, and was about to foUow him, when he heard
the chair lumble again, and looking round, saw the trap-door open ; they
had eut the cord !
The hgure of a man holding a knife appeared in the faint light,
12. Échelle. — 13. Trappe. — 14. Atlique. — 15. Pulled clumsiiy. — 16. Crampon.
— n. Passed. — 18. Noise. — 19. Panneau.
64 ENGLISU PART [352]
followed by the head of another man. Now it was too late for Peter to
get through the window safely ; so, grasping his sword with both hands,
he leapt at the man, aiming a great stroke at his shadowy mass. It fell
upon him somewhere, for down he went and lay quite still. By now the
second man had his knee upon the edge offlooring. Peter thrust him
through, and he sank backwards on the heads of others who were
following him, sweeping the ladder with his Aveight, so that ail of them
tumbled in a heap at its foot.
Then Peter slammed-" the door to. Next he rushed to the window, scram-
bled through it, dropping safely to the ground. " Where now ? " asked
Castell, as he stood by him panting. '* To the wall — the wall, \ve must
climb it, " said Peter. So together they climbed, or rather fell down the
wall on to a mass of prickly'-' pear-bush, which broke the shock, but
tore them sorely. At last, bleeding ail over, they struggled up the bank,
and safely reached the road for Granada.
Abridged from Fair Margarel, by H. limER Haggard.
20. Sliut roughly. — 21 . Piquant.
Master Perch
There was once a pool called in fish-langiiage Danger Pool. At first
this pool had been full of tish, but so many had been caught by the boys
of the neighbourhood, that ihe few which were lelt tled in terror to the
next stream, and so nobody went to Danger Pool. Now there were
amongst the tishcs of the stream many little ones, and as they grew older
their mothers warned them about Danger Pool, and bade them never to
enter the place. But there happened to be one little tish, a perch ahvays
wanting lo do just what his mother thought it best he should not do. He
had a delightful home called Safety Nook -, where there was beauti-
fuUy clear water to swim in, nice clean gravel on whicli to play, and a
capital ^ bank with shady reeds in which to sleep. Unfortunately Master
Perch was saucy * and disobedient; so one iine day, he said to another
tish : " l'm going to-morrow to Danger Pool. ïhere's no danger, I know".
But Master Perch's friend did not at ail agrée with him, so he simply
said he would not go with him, and swam away. To-morrow came, andit
being a half-holiday, Master Perch wentout to play, and swam right away
to Danger Pool. As soon as hegot there, he saw a savoury-looking" worm
falling from the surface to the bottom of the pool, and darted at the tasty
morsel. Now, directly the morsel went down his throat he felt a prick,
so he tried to put it out, but itonlystuck faster, and then he felt some-
thing pulling him up, and found the string was fastened round his throat.
Soon the Iine" pulled him up out of the water, and landed him strug-
gling on the bank, and as he lay there sutfering he wished he had
obeyed his mother. But his regret was too late, for he leaped and strug-
gled, and then he died.
1 . The lish. — 2. Corner. — 3. K.\cellent. — 4. Hiuie ; impudent. — 5. Appearing
to Ije good to eal. — 6. Of tlie fisherman.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 9.
5 Février 1908.
8' Année.
ENGLISH PART
The Way of the World.
On January 8, Dr. Alfred Riissel Wallaee, F. H. S ', Ihe celebratcd natur-
alist, traveller, and author, whose namo is for ail time linked with that of
Darwin, as the co-discoverer of the doctrine of Natural Sélection, celebrated
his eighty-fifth birthday. The vétéran biologist is one more illustration of
scientific longevity. Only recently he published a new book : Is Mars Hab-
itable ?in whichhe opposed the inferences drawn from the so-called "■ canals'" ;
and yet it is half a cenlury since he formulated his gi-eat theory. The présent
year marks, in fact, the juJjilee of the publication by the Linnœan Society
of his epoch-making paper, On the tendency of Varieties to départ indef-
initely from the original type. This essay virtiially determined the issue by
Darwin of the Origin of Species, which appeared in November, 1859. No
rivalry, but only the niost gênerons appréciation, existed between the two
discoverers. Of Wallaces many works, his Malay Archipelago, for long ont of
print, is'perhapsthe most notable. Of late he bas occupied himself a good deal
with occult and sociological problems, and in writingadiffiise Autobiography.
On his ninetieth birthday Mr.W. P. Fritli, R. A.-, wassumnioned to Bucking-
ham Palace, and was mostcordially and kindly welcomed by the King, who
shook hands most warmly with him, expressed his great pleasure at seeing
him look so well despite his years, and added that he desired to mark his
services to British art by conferring upon him the Coinmandership of the
Victorian Order (G. V. 0.).
It is usual for the récipient of an Order to kneel to the Sovereign when
invested with the insignia, but, in the case of the vétéran paintcr, the King
thoughtfully dispensed with this formality, and simply handed to him the
cross and ribbon which comprise the insignia of the Order.
Mr. Fritli was certainly the most popular painter of the Victorian era. Old
men still recall how a rope had to be drawn round " The Derby Day, "^ at
Burlington llouse in 1858, to keep back the crowds which pressed round that
picture, and the success of this picture was rivalled by " The Ilailway Sta-
tion " '* and " Ramsgate Sands " — ail canvases crowdcd with life, painted
with Hogarthian fidelity.
A delightful and characteristic slory of " The Derby Day " is told by Mr.
Frith himself in his amusing réminiscences. It was the habit of Queen Victoria
and the Prince Consort to bring their boys and girls to the private view of
the Royal Academy (then held in Trafalgar-square) = and naturally this canvas
1. Fellow of the Royal Society. — 2. Royal Academician. — 3. The " Derby " at
Epsom is still one of the most famous of horse-rnces. — 4. This was Paddington, the
Great Western Station. — 5. Now at Bnrhnftton House, Piccadilly.
[50]
ANGL. 9
66 ENGLISH PART [394]
greatly interested Ihe young people. " Oh, mamma, " exclainied one of the
litlle Princes, " I never saw so many people! "' " Nonsense, " said the
Qiieen ; " yoii liave often seen niany more. ' " Butnot in a picture, mamma, "
was the response.
Modem Crusoes.
Like a page ont of Defoe's story, Robinson Crusoe, reads the narrative
untblded by Donald Morrison, a résident of Dundee, and one ofthe survivors
ofthe ill-fated Norwegianbarque AlexandraOubis, on arrivai at Southampton.
Morrison joined the barque, which was a 1600 tonner', at Buenos Ayrcs
in August, 1906, and the vessel sailed in ballast^ to New South Wales. Fair
weather was experienced, and the voyage took tifty-eight days. Coal was
loaded for Panama, and they set sail for that port on Nov. 26. Good pro-
gress was made during the first month, and then there was a continuation
of calms and light winds, and the ship was helplessly becalmcd for six
months. The vessel, however, ultimately got within 550 miles of Panama,
wilh Albemarle Island in sight about len miles distant, but they failed to
make^ it, owing to the strong current and light wind.
Provisions and water had by this time become exhansted, and, sutfering
terribly from thirst and hunger, Ihey left Ihe ship on May 8 in two boats,
with ten men in each, the captain taking command of one and the first mate
the other, After eleven days they lost sight of the lirst mate's craft^, the crew
of which was afterwards rescued from one of the islands, and on May 19 they
landed on Indefatigable Island in search of water and food. The men camp-
ed on the shore for the night, and on the foUowing morning starled along
the rocks looking for water. On the first day they found some fruits appar-
ently like small apples, but it proved to be poisonoiis, and bui-ned Iheir
throa(s. Their search for water on the first day was luisuccessful, but on the
second they eut doun cactus trecs, and found that the sticky substance
within quenched their Ihirst.
On the Ihird day they discovered some turtles, which were eaten with
avidity, and on the following day they found water in a cave. It was a little
brackish ^, but they made their camp there for three weeks. Several of the
crew by this lime were in such an exhausted state that they were hardly
able to move. At the end of this time, on going back to their landing-place,
they found the boat smashed on the rocks, and they took the sails and wood
up to the camp. Then four men slarted for the east part of the island to sec
if any assistance could be obtained. They found signs of an old camp twonty
miles away, and they rcmained there and fixed a flagpole, on which they
hoisted a signal of distress.
Periodical visils about once a fortnight were made to their old camp, as it
was only during the spi-ing * tides that they could return over the rocks. On
one occasion one ofthe four, a German, left to go to the old camjt by himsclf,
but disappeared, and his comrades gave him up for lost. Some time later a
skull and human bones were found on the shore, which were laken to lie ail
that remained ofthe poor fellow.
In the meantime an Ecuador warship had boen sent to look for Ihe missing
barqup, and discovered her a wreck on one of the islands. Finding no signs
ofthe crew, it was presumed they had been lost, and the warship returned
and made ils report. A cousin of the captain of the barqius however, who
d. Of 1600 tons. — 2. To take the place of cargo. — 3. Reach. — 4. Boat. —
. A httie sait. — G. Grandes marées.
[395] ENGLISH PART 67
was living in Iquiqiie, dcterniined tliat he would make an eft'ort to tind Ihe
missing men. He raised fiinds and obtained a sloop \ and set ont in scarch
of thc crew.
On Oct. 29 the ship was sighted ]»y the men on Ihe islnnd. They saw the
sail in the distance, and nearly went mad with joy. Frantic signais were
niado to the vessel, which took them ofT after over hve months of sutïering.
They were landed in Guayaqiiii on Nov. 9. Some of the crew proceeded to
New York, but Morrison and two companions came on to England.
7. This Word seems to hâve been borrowed by our French friends.
By Rail in America.
Kansas City had a strange, nnfinished look, as if the town had been begun
hère and lliere, and left otf again. (3ne would see in the streets a low
ramshackle ' timber hut, next to a tall brick or stone building with architec-
tural pretensions. ïhe roadways were very roiigh, and some of the
footways were paved in a peciiliar way by stiimps of trees eut in cross-
sections and pressed into the earth as close as might be. On we went by
the railroad, over miles and miles of brown prairie, varied by streaks of
snow lingering hère and there, until across the vast plains the blue peaks
of moun tains began to peer ; thc peaks of New Mexico, and Ihe great
range of the Rockies ^ visible a long time on our right, their summits
snow-covered and often veilcd in storms ; past little towns and mining
settlements hère and there, and on through strange wide valleys walled
by queer, square-cut red bluffs '^ receding in regular lines, and so
onwards across the great American désert of Arizona, the red ground
dotted with dry bushes of shrubs, the plain sometimes varied by a deep
volcanic looking cleft or canon. A few cattle might sometimes be
«een, though how life could be supported on such pastnre as was visible
was a wonder. It was a curions sensation to stand at the lookont at the end
of the train and watch Ihe windings of the single Une of i-ail disappearing
in the distance, the only thread of communication between the far-apart
settlements of this strange désert country. We were soon among the
mountains crossing the snows, and in a fe^v days descended through a fine
pass and entered a smiling land full of tlowers.
Walter Crâne.
[An Artist's Reininiscences.)
1. Badly built. — 2. Rocky Mountains. — 3. Cliffs.
Distaîf Day and Plough Monday.
Acentury ago there was always gênerai rejoicing when Epiphany, orïwelfth
Day (January 6; fell upon a Monday. For in those days no labourer ever
resumed bis daily toil until Plough Monday, which was the first Monday after
Epiphany. On the other hand, every woman was expected to take up her task
of spinning once more on January 7, or St. DistafT's Day. Even in those days
1. Quenouille.
68 ENGLISQ PART ! 396 1
the labour laws l'or iiien and wonieii were very unequal, and many a wench^
niust havc longed for lier brother's prolongea Chrislmas lioliday.
If the maids are spinning, go
Burn the flax, and flre the tow,
advised Herrick in one of his cheerful lyrics. So gênerai was what is now the
almostlost artof spinning, that dista/fas well as spinsler was the name given
to an unmarried woman. The French version of the Salie Law(piaintly declared
" The Crown of France nevev falls to tlie distaff" ; but now we hâve only
spinsters who cannot spin among us. " To havc tow on distalî "' is a proverb
whieh bas nearly passed from our language. That is well, for now nobody
w^ould understand it to mean having niuch business on hand.
llowever, Plough Monday, is still kept in remole parts of the country,
in spite of the facl that everybody goes back to work after Boxing Day^. A
plough is dressed up with riiibons and drawn from house to bouse Ihrough
the pai'ish by ail the sturdy labourers available, while one of their number
acts as chief showman, dressed as an old woman, who is invariably called
Betty or Bessy — perhaps a survival from the days of Good Queen Bess ! *
This personage jingles" a money-box, and implores alms wherewith to give
the Company good fun. In olden days, when the procession appeared,
many a hard-working Jill left her distaff to foot^the Morris' dance with
her Jack. In pre-Reformation days, the money collecled was doubtless
used to Imy candies to burn before shrines in the church in order to invoke
a blessing on the crops for the yeai'. No doubt the festival, as well as the
candies, was done away with in Puritan days, but it was revived with the
Merry Monarch ^ It was not only the festival of the farm labourer, but of
threshers, reapers, and carters. Even the smilh and tlie miller were allowed
to join the procession, for one sharpened the ploughshares, and the other
ground the corn. If a well-to-do ^ farmer or squire refused alms, revenge of
a curious kind was taken on him. The ploughshare '" was driven into the
ground before bis Windows, and in a minute or two his flowei'-garden wonld
he a brown barren waste. Plough Monday can hardly bave been the day when
ploughing commenced, for in January the ground is generally loo hard for
the plough, and in many districts of England it is rare to sec a plough at
work until February or March. Ploughing was as gênerai an occui)ation for
men as spinning was for women, and Plough Monday, like Distaff Day, really
meant the date when daily toil was resumed.
Jhe AVesttinnster Ga:-ette.
2. An old Word for " girl ". — 3. St. Stephen's Day, a public lioliday in England. —
4. Elizabetli. — ^j. Shakes the coin in. — 0. Dance, step. — 7. Reallv " Moorish ". —
8. Charles H. — 9. Weallhy. — 10. Soc de charrue.
First Memories.
In the Rapids that cover the River,
Almost in the heart of the foam,
I havc seen a calni pool, that for ever
\Yelled ' dark from the depths of ils home
So now, in the rush of the présent,
The pools of the memory glow ;
To-days haste and hurry incessant
O'erwhelms ne'er the calm " Long Ago "
1. To well = Jaillir
[397
BNGLISH PART
69
Like canoës tlying last on Ihe spindi-ift-,
We seem but Ihe sport ot" Ihe spray,
When a turn of the paddle and wrist lift
The boat, to float free of the fray !
So now, from the strife evanescent,
We turn, — from To-day to the Past,
And Age, by our memory chastened,
Recalls our first Home at the last I
The Duke oi- Argyll.
2. A Canadian terin.
The Reindeer',
A Reindeer
Happy is the brave Laplander-, as with bis reindeer — the horse of bis
snowy world, — he goes abroad on bis sledge. Lapland is a poor country,
almost as poor a country as an
Arabian désert. For mucb of tbe
year indeed, it is a désert of snow.
And jnst as the camel is a treas-
ure to tbe people living in
Arabian sand-deserts, so is tbe
reindeer a treasure to tbe people
living in tbe Lapland snow-desert.
The reindeer gives milk and ils
milk is tbere, what cow's milk is
bere in England.W'hat would tbe
Lapland cbildren do witliout tbe
milk, wbicb also makes butter and
cbeese? Then its flesb is like beef and bam, and used for food. Its skin
makes many tbings, tents and coats, and bed-coverings and sledges. It is
their borse, too. Tbe reindeer costs very little to keep. If it wanted dainty
fare ^ it would bave to die, for Lapland bas none. When tbe snow is on
tbe ground, it pokes about witb its nose till it uncovers a little moss,
and witb moss for its food and tbe snow for its drink, it makes its frugal
meal. Tbe reindeer is not a handsome animal, but if " bandsome is tbat
handsome does "' % tbe reindeer bas few to excel bim.
Away they go
Over the snow 1
Bilter the cold that the norlh winds blow.
In fur-coattight,
In sledge so light,
Swiftiy and snug ' in the moonUght night,
Away they go,
Over Ihe snow !
1. Renne. — 2. Lapon. — 3. Délicate food. — 4.
— 5. Comfortable.
P'rom Brif/ht Eyes.
Ail that glitters is not gold
70 ENGLISH PART [398]
The Death of a Hero
We owe to the extrême kindness of the author, Herr Friedrich Werner van Oesté-
ren, the authorisation to translate and reproduce the text of this novel. It is taken
f rom a collection of stories which he lias just published with Egon Fleischel and Co
of Berlin, " Der Weg ins Nichts " {The Wan into i\othing). This volume places Herr
van Oestéren among the nuniber of the most distinguished novelists of his country.
Kead in the Supplément a detailed account of this work.
Together with Michael Lobicki twenty-seven other yoiing men, like
hiiii reservisls, left the village which was their home, to go to Gzens-
tochaii. Thilher had Ihey been summoned, Ihere were they to be
enrolled, and Ihence would they be sent into the unknown remoteness
of East Asia, in order to fight with and conquer the enemies of Ihe
Fatherland. What a throng there was at the little railway-station,
Holy Mother of God ! The whole village escorted the departing ones, the
warriors, who would return either as heroes ornot at ail. Gracions, great
Lord Jésus ! how many tears were there shed, how niany prayers rose
to Heaven from women's lips nioving in pain, and how many blessings !
The departure seemed to be the hardest to those who surrounded
Michael Lol)icki, a youth as beautiful as a picture. There was the fair
Mania, the daughter of Ihe richest peasant in the village, who clung
sobbingtoher beloved betrolhed, and would not let go of him. There
was her father, old Jan Leschko, who loved so dearly his daughter, his
only child and the sole heiress of his properly, that he had indeed given
his consent to her marriage with the orphan lad, who did not possess a
kopeck of his own, and lived only by the favour of his sister. There was
she herself, the lean Kalja Garowicz, who had escaped from the misery
in which her parents had left her and her brother by calching the
stu()id, old Caspar. And there iinally was Caspar. who had given
Michael, his brother-in-law, at the order of his wife, many bright roubles.
More or less, as far indeed as the hard times permitted. had, bcsides, ail
who saw a beloved one départ, given something from Ihe scanty treasure
acquired with bitterness and difficulty. And whilst their tears now
tlowed especially in tlic pain of parting, in the anguished appréhension
regarding the welfare of the young hero, there was also expressed a
little the thought of the pièces of money lost for ever. But nevertheless
they were proud indeed, those who remained behind. Ail, ail ! Proud
that one of their blood, of their name, went forth to «ave Ihe Father-
land, and, if the most gracions Lord Jésus thought fit, to return as a
triumphant hero. This consciousness, this hope sparkled from the eyes
of ail. lighted up ail on foreheads and cheeks. Even the glances of
Mania, the beautiful girl, whose heart was indeed far more (illed with
grief and the pain of parting, beamed through the thick veil of incessanl-
ly tlowing tears.
" Michael, oh niy beloved, only Michael, " wailed she, sobbing, " do
not forget me, remain true to me ! You know that the Japanese women
are said to be so beautiful, oh ! so beautiful. That I know quite for cer-
tain. And when vou hâve become a ureat lord and a famous hero.
* See the four other Parts.
[3991 EKGLISH PART 71
Michael, my Michael, do nol forget mo ! Conie back to me again ! I wait
and think day and niglU only of you . Tliat 1 swear to you by the great,
dear, gracions Mother of Czenstochaii, to whom ï will pray so mnch, so
much for you, Michael, Michael ! "
" 0 Michael ", then said Katja with her thiii voice, '• forget not, do
you hear, to offer a very thick taper to ourgood, splendid Mother ofGod
in Czenstochan ! I hâve given you the money. And before ail tell her, you
understand, that Katja Garowicz is a very righteous woman and a good
Christian, and that she asks for Her blessing Do you hear, do not
forget ! "
[To be continued.)
Friedrich ^YERNER Van Oestéren.
Quarries ' by Ihe Sea.
Although the Isle of Piirbeck is not, strictiy-speaking, an island, the
wide-stretching Dorset heaths and a range of hills so isolate it that it is not
surprising its inhabitants possess characteristics of their own even to this
day. It is from thèse hills that the ftimous Piirbeck marble cornes, and
ihe men whoquarry itarealmost a race apart. Many years ogo, it is said,
a large nuniber of thein came from Normandy, and their swarthy
complexion and slowness of speech proclaim their foreign origin.
The hills behind Swanage are scored- with hundreds of little quarries
and their attendant piles of rubbish, and ail day long the " chip, chip,
chip, " of their tireless workers can be heard far and wide. To those
used to the big open quarries owned by large tirms, thèse little
Purbeck workings soem very strange. Two or ihree men owii and
work a quarry according to ancient custom, by which no siranger is
allowed to enter partnership with natives, and ail workers must hâve
served their seven years' apprenticeship.
A narrow sloping shaft is driven some 30ft. to lOOft. into the hill-side
from which a tunnel is bored directly into the seam of slone. This tunnel is
narrow and damp, and thestone has to be hewn -^ ont by hand, the work
being long and arduou?, for, of course, no blasting is permissible. The
bottom of the sloping shaft is paved with stone slabs, and the rough hewn
rock is levered on to low trucks which are hauled '* up the slide by means
of a chain and winch \ A few of the little quarries possess a donkey,
whose duty it is to haul up the stone, or one donkey may do the work of
two or three of thèse little syndicales.
Each quarry is usually surrounded by a low wall of piled up stones, an
opening being left at one place to serve as an enlrance. When the men are
away, a pôle will often be put across this entrance as a sign that it is
closed for the day. Roughly-built sheds and sl.eUers of slabs of stone, in
which the workers shape the blocks, are constructed against the inside
1. Carrières. — 2. Marked. — 3. Car. — 4. Drawn. — S. Treuil.
ENGLISH PART 1^400]
of this wall. Hère may be seen tbe large flat slabs which afterwards form
tlie pavement of towns. In one corner of the enclosure is the sloping shafl
overgrown with briar, bracken ^, and wild flowers; in the slabs whlch
form the sloping slide up which the little trncks of stone are drawn,
deep, riisty-coloured channels are worn by the chain.
In olden limes ' the rules of the guild of stone-vvorkers were very
strict. No one was allowed to marry outside their order, and no quarry-
man from other parts of thecountry was permitted to \York among them.
But nowadays many of the customs of the Company of Marblers ** and
Stone-Gutters of the Isle of Purbeck hâve lapsed. However, the industry
is still carried on utider by-lawsatid régulations issued by the two ward-
ens and stevv^ards elected by the men every year. Thèse otficers see that
the rules are properly carried ont, and inflict sundry penalties for any
infringement of them, but the person accused may appeal to an open
meeting of ail the quarrymen. Every Shrove Tuesday^ the Purbeck Miners'
Guild meets at Corfe'" when gênerai business is transacted, and those
désirons of becoming apprentices must produce satisfactory évidence of
their parentage. He who desires to enter the trade brings to the warden
presiding at the meeting a small loaf in one hand and a bottle of béer in
the other, together with the prescribed fee of 6s. 8d. He then signs
allegiance to the company, and is declared a freeman, which entitles
him to becomean apprentice. At the end of his seven years, he is admitted
to ail the privilèges of the guild. Under certain conditions the wives of
freemen can become members, which enables them to work their
husbands' quarries should they become widows. In earlier times the test
of parentage was very severe, the men of Purbeck being very anxious
to keep ont any outsiders". Kven to this day many of the rules are very
strict on this point, no one being allowed to enter into partnership with
any but a freeman under penalty of a line of Mve pounds. Unfair
compétition and price-cutting among the members is also disallowed,
and honest trading is enforced as far as practicable. Once a year a pound
of peppcr and a foolball are presented to the lords of the manor of
Owre, on Poole Harbour, in order to préserve the right of way to the
(|uay tliere, at which niuch of Ihc Purbeck stone and marble is shipped.
Tue GLoni':.
6. A sort of fern. — 7. At one tiine ail Englisli crafts were thus controlled by
Guilds ; survivais are tlie City Livery Gompanies : Clolh Workers, Fislimongers, etc.
— 8. Marble -workers. — 9. Mardi Gras. — 10. At Corfe is a famous old castle. —
H. Strangers not of the district.
The Merry-Maker.
'' Do you fînd that rain materially affects the attendance at your
church ? " asked a garrulous visitor of a clergyman. '• Indeed I do,"
replied the parson. " I hardly hâve a vacant seat when it is too wet for
golf or motoring.'
Les Cinq Langues
N" 10. 20 Février 1908. 8» Année.
ENGLISH PART
The Way of the World.
On .January 29, the King-, accompanied by Ihe Queen, opened in State the
third Session of the présent Parliament. Enormous crowds watched the
Royal Procession, forKing Edward seems atlast tobe inheriting true " King's
Weather ". (Queen Victoria invariably enjoyed on state progresses fine or
"Qiieen's Weather'".) The precarious health ofthe Prime Minister, the indispo-
sition of Mr. Balfoiir, and the loss by great majorities, of two Ministerial
seals, ail seem to point to a disturbed and eventful session.
The lainented King Carlos of Portugal had freiiucntly visiled England,
notably three years ago, and, unless our memory fails, at one of the .lubilees
and at Queen Victoria's funeral. Queen Amelia was hère quite recentlyfor
the Bourbon wedding, and was one of the group of Five Quecns (England, Ger-
many, Spain, Portugal, and Norway) Ihen photographed at Windsor.
One of the wisest and niost experienced of second-hand booksellers *, Mr.
.lames Westell, bas died in bis 79th year. He began business when a ])oy
of 12. Many distinguished nien of Ictters were his customers, for instance
Bulwer Lytton and Mr. <!ladstone. His specialities were classics and ancient
and modem theology.
* *
The Edward Medal and the Canadian Mint.
The Edward Medal, recently mentioncd in Les Cinq Langues, bas Ijeen struck
(in silver) at the Royal Mint. It bears the King's eftîgy on one side, and on
the other side a miner is represcnted lying in one of the workings wilh his
rescuer helpinghim to rise. The figures appear to bewelland boldly modelled,
and the space is vvell filled, which gives a décorative effect not always to be
found in modem medals. In this connection, we may refer to the estab-
lishment at Ottawa in Canada of a branch ofthe Mint. The Deputy Master is
Dr. James Bonar, latc of the Civil Service Commission, and silver and bronze
money is already beingcoined. Anaccount of the opening ceremony appear-
ed in Le Temps of Ottawa.
1. Marchands de livres d'occasion.
A German Eton.
Following upon a récent speech by Mr. Birrell on Education in Germany, a
most interesting comparison between English, French, and German edu-
cational methods and institutions has appeared in The Westminster Gazette.
[56J ANGL. 10
71 KNGUSH PART [442]
Mr. Birrell had heard " that what they wanted in (iermany was a school on
Ihe same lines as Eton ".
The article runs :
There lias been for some years past an interesting and rather curions movement of
reciprocity in matters educational hetween Englandand tlie Continent. While \ve hâve
been in the throes i of a critical self-examination of our public-school System,
France and Gerniany bave developed a distinct impulse towards imitating and
transplanting it. The French and Germans seem, indeed, to bave awakened to the
defects of tbeir educational methods at the very moment when we in England bave
become conscious of the quite opposite defects of our own. The three nations are
taking ieavos from one anotber's notebooks- and boCrowing or attempting to borrow
— thèse things are not done easily or without risk— the good points of each others
Systems, the EngUsh being mainly bent on Germanising and the French and Germans
— the French, perhaps, more particularly — feeUng their way towards that happy elas-
ticity which is the redeeming feature of the great English seminaries. Nor is this
exciiange of methods conflned to Europe. The Americans bave filled up the gap
between the pubUc schools and the Universities "with institutions modelled as closely
on the lines of Rugby and Winchester as the independence nnd self-assertiveness of
American boyhood will allô vi'. So that, though our schools are held— and rigbtly
beld— to fail technically, though they do not, in the cliché of the expert, " provide
an éducation suited to a compétitive âge, " it is some consolation to be told that they
bit the mark al certain ranges vi'here the French, German, and American schools
miss 3 it.
They are widely recognised on the Continent as being splendid nurseries for a
governing race.
The starting-point of thèse reciprocity movements in things educational may
rougbly be set down as the discovery by the English that their schools do not teach,
and by the French and Germans that theirs do notbing but teach That is, of course,
a deliberate exaggeration, but it bints with sufflcient accuracy at the defects whicli
educationists on the two sides of the English Channe! and the North Sea are trying to
make good. The German Emperor made his first réputation as a statesman by a brill-
iant attack on the gymnasium system, of which be, like al! otber German boys, had
been a victim. He described it as " the most fossilised and most mind-destroying of
ail Systems ". Of the tvventy-one pupils in his class nineteen wore spectacles. The
philologists sat in the gymnasia as beati possidenles. dissecting and carving the class-
ics. expounding the sublimities of grammar and syntax, till " it was enough to
make one weep ". The pupils, in addition to six hours in school, had to do from flve
and ahalf to seven hours' work a day at home. " If it had not been that I had occa-
sion to ride in and out to school and otherwise move about in the open air, I sbould
not bave known what the outside world was like. "' The schools were not doing what
was expected of them ; they were not " taking up of their own accord the fight
against Social Democracy "; they were not training useful and patriotic subjects
" with xvhom I can work ". What was wanting was a national basis. " We ought to
educate young Germans, not young Greeks and Romans. We must break away from
the basis xvhich bas existed for centuries, from the old monkish éducation of medianal
times, when Latin, together with a smattering of Greek, was of most importance. . . .
I sbould like to see the national spirit fostered still more by the teaching of history,
geography, and legendary lore. Let us begin at home. '" The curriculum was over-
crowded, and tiie schools were turning out too many bighly educated meii, " more
tlian the nation requires and more than the people can support. "
Many of the Kaiser's slashing criticisms would hold equaliy good to-day. It is Irue
tiiat in the last ûfteen years the study of German history in tiie nineteenth century
bas been introduced into the schools, tbat far more attention is now given to rowing,
running, gymnastics, football, and lawn-tennis, and that the " modem " schools stand
to-day, so far as officiai favours and privilèges are concerned, on a footing of absolute
equaiity with the classical schools. But it is the bare fact that the Kaiser's attack on
the fanatical philologist failed. The " old fogoys' " beat him ; the grammarian is
still bcalus poiisidens; the absence of camaraderie between masters and pupils is not
less marked than it was; the training of character is still the weak point of the
System as a xvhole ; little bas been done to free German éducation from the defects
1. Pains. — 2. Cahiers. — 3. Fail to bit. — 4. Old-fashioned people.
[443]
EK6L1SH I ART
75
ot' a loo stereotyped rigidity, excessive cnimmiiig% and mechanical overwork; and
the problem of the educated prolétariat grows, if anything, only more insistent.
5. Imparting Knowledge only for examination purposes ; botirrer, y ave r, as wïth
the Strashiirg tieese.
The making of scents.
Scenls are nol what they seem, was the moral of the address on the " Dis-
tillation of Perfumes from Flowers, " given by Mr. John C. Umney before
the nienibers of the Royal Horticultnral Society.
MnnyoF the parfumes known to the public were compounded préparations,
Extraction of the perfumes by inacerating.
explained Mr. Umney. Sonieiiiues a blending' ot several odours produced the
odour of one particular flovver. The lily of the valley^ perfiime, for instance,
was not made from the lily of the valley, and the same might bo said of
wall-flower^, sweet pea* and carnation perfumes.
Specially interesting was the list of perfumes made artiticially in the
chemical laboratory. They included musk, vanilla, made from sawdust%
" Coumarine, " or new-mown hay, Heliotropin, which is an excellent repré-
sentation of héliotrope, " Aubé|)ine '" or Hawtborn, " lonone" or violet, and
the recently-discovered " Neroli, " which represents very exactiy the scent
of the orange tlow(M-.
In 1100 A.D., the distillation process was introduced into Europe.
The volatile induslry seemed to hâve developed from very small beginnings
in the South of France in the sixteenth century, but the real perfumery
1. Fusion. — 2. Muguet. — 3. Giroflée jaune. — 4. Pois de senteur. — 5. Sciure.
76 ENGLISH PART [444]
industry might be said to hâve had its origin in the préparation of Hiinga-
rian water in the sixteenth centiiry, a préparation made from rosemary.
The most délicate flowers, tubéreuse and the jasmine, still hâve their per-
fume extracted by placing l'ats over their petals. Lavender and attar of roses
were distilled. The Bulgarian Government were attempting to make certain
standards for attar of rose, so that this very expensive perfume may not
reach the English market mixed vvith cheap géranium oil.
The perfume of violets was extracted by macerating the flowers in fat at
a high température, the compound being afterwards placed in very powor-
ful hydraulic presses. In the case of oranges, lemons, and bergamot fruit,
so muchused in the préparation of the opopanax and ess Itouquet perfumes,
the volatile oil is extracted from the peel, great care being taken not to
damage the peel so that it may still be used for salting. As an instance of
the highly concentrated state to which the essenlial oil may be brought,the
lecturer showed a phial of essence of lemon, each drop of which was équi-
valent to the juice and peel of four lemons.
The perfumery industry on the French Riviera is not merely a season one.
The perfumery calendar drawn up by Mr. Tmney begins with March and
April, when violets and jonquilles are ready to be treated, and ends with
Ihe cassie in late October and the early days of November. In May and June
the roses and orange blossoms are out, and in July especially the orange
leaves, which yield the so-called Petitgrain oil, are ready. Jasmine, tubé-
reuse, and lavender ail blossom in August and September, and in Septem-
ber and October the géraniums are ready for the oil of géranium.
Mr. Umney spoke of Spain as a possible future centre of the perfumery
industry. Practically the whole of the perfumery now produced was culti-
vated in other parts of the world than the British Isles, but the Colonial
Governmenls were making practical experiments, and he had examined
samples of attar of roses, oil of géranium, and essence of jonquille produced
from flowers grown on the Government farm at Victoria.
France, which produces perfume to the value of thirty million francs,
annually leads, Bulgaria's attar of rose industry is valuedat 3 500 000 francs,
Algiers supplied oil of géranium, .lapan peppermints, Parquay the oil of
petitgrain, and the Philippines the popular perfume Ylang-Ylang.
6. Menthe poivrée.
Orestes.
Me in far lands did Justice ^ cali, cold queen
Among the dead, who after beat and haste
At length bave leisure for lier steadfast voice,
That gathers peace from the great deeps of Hell.
She caird me, saying : I heard a cry by night !
Go thou, and question not ; within tby halls
My will awaits fulfilment. Lo ! the dead
Cries out before me in the under-world.
Seek not to justify thyself : in me
Bestrong, and I will show thee wise in time :
For though my face be dark, yet unto those
Who truly follow me through storm and shine,
For thèse the veil sball fall, and they shall see.
1. In Greek story we hâve both Ate (Revenge) and Dike (Justice).
[445] ENGLISH PART 77
They walked with Wisdom, thougli they knevv lier not.
So I sped - home ; and from the under-world
Forever came a wind tliat fiU'd my sails,
Cold, like a spirit, and ever her still voice
Spoke over shoreless seas and fathomless dceps
And in great calms, as from a colder world ;
Nor slack'd ^ I sail hy day, nor yet wlien niglit
Fell on my running keel ^, and now would biirn,
With ail her eyes, my errand unto me.
So I sped on, fill'd with a voice divine :
And liardly wist ■' I whom 1 was to slay,
My mother ! but a vague, heroic dream
Possess'd me ; fired to do the will of gods,
I lost the man in minister of Heaven ;
Nor took I note of sandbank «, nor of storm,
Nor of the ocean's thunders, when the shores
Ail round had faded, leaving me alone ;
I knew I could not die, lill I had slain !
Stephen Phildi's
2. Hastened. — 3. Matle loose. — 4. Carène. — 5. Knew. — 6. Banc de sable.
Early English Ballooning.
In thèse days when people arc beginning to think that the conquest of the
air has begun, and ail tongues speak of Santos-Dumont, Count Zeppelin, Henry
Farman, airships, aero-planes, and mammoth balloons, weare reminded that
t23years ago the first balloon ascent was made in England. A writer in The
Observer says :
It took place at Moorfields, in the City of London, and the aeronaut was
Vincent Lunardi.
There were many interesting incidents in connection with the ascent. The
public were incredulous, not the less so because a few days previously a
rival named Moret had advertised a similar exploit, but had ignominiously
failed to inflate bis balloon, which the infuriated mob promptly tore to
pièces. One resuit of the riot was that the Governor of Chelsea Hospital
withdrew the permission which he had granted to Lunardi to make the
ascent from the grounds of the hospital. The balloon was 32feet in diameter,
and had two " oars, " * with which, according to Lunardi's account, he was
able to move it up ordown, and which played a rather tragic part in the
ascent.
There was an enormous crowd on the eventfnl day, the majority of whom,
according to a writer in the Gentleman's Magazine, swore '' the thing could
not he seen by daylight, for no Christian could fly through the air, and
goblins and spirits were not permitted to ramble about till the dead hour of
night. " When the balloon was seen to rise, they watched it " with a kind of
awfui terror, "' which was not diminished when Lunardi, in his haste, broke
one of his oars, and the fragment came tlying to the ground. One woman
took the falling oar to be the aeronaut and died of fright.
King George was at a council of his Ministers when news was brought of
the ascent. " We may résume our délibérations on the subjecl before us, "
1. Rames.
78 ENGLISH PART [446j
said his Majcstv^ " at another time, but we shall never see poor Lunardi
again. " And with that the Council adjoiirned to watch his destruction
through télescopes,
A jury worc considering the tate of a criniinal — Lunardi had Ihis story
from the Judge himself — when the ballocn appeared. The alarming spectacle
80 distracted them that they forgot the Judgcs summing up, and, in fine -,
acquitted the prisoner as the easiest way out of the diihculty.
Apart from the loss of the oar and the escape of a pigeon, Lunardi had no
mishap. In the description he left of the ascent, he says that " the whole
scène before me filled the mind with a sublime pleasure of which I never
had a conception." He wrote threeletters to various friends, and threw them
down to earth. Finally he came down at South Mimms, where he landed a
cat he had with him, and, goingup again, descended an hour later near Ware^.
Later, Lunardi saw tiie King and dined with the Lord Mayor and Judges,
and became the hero of the hour ; and he was sufficiently prudent in his
hallooning to live for more than twenty years afterwards.
2. Finallv. — 3. Not far ofT Loiidon.
The Death of a Hero *.
Il
The pride, wliich filled those who remained behind, seemed not to
animale the young men ; atbestthe fewwho had made themselves drunk
with many drams, and now were singing, brawled vainglorioiisly, and
made extravagant gestures. AH the olhers stood mournful, laconic, with
choking throats, and looked anxioiis. So too was Michael Lobicki. He was
veiy sad at heart. and he would gladly hâve given half of his blood to be
able to remain.
" Mania, my little heart ! Mania, my poor, sweet liltle bride ! Mania,
my beloved little dove, " he staminered often and often with pale lips,
and stroked the girl's lair hair.
" But, children ", observed oldLeschko, " why then is every one hère
so dreadfully wretched 1 Psialcrew, I was also a young fellow and a sol-
dier, and hâve hewn the Turks, as 1 love God, hâve hewn them into
pièces, and hâve returned safe andsound. Michael will hâve settled still
more qnickly with the yellow fleas than I with the crooked Turks. Oh !
in a year's time he will be back with us again, Mania, my little
daughter ! "
'■ But if I die or become a cripple ? Oh ! what then '! " asked Michael
gloomily.
At this Mania cried out, and clasped hcr sweetheart ail tiie doser:
" Michael, Michael ! "
But Katja declared boldly : " A hero might also return as cripple, do
you hear, Michael ? And about that every one then would only be proud.
I should be so certainly, and would tend you till the end of your life
as trueas I am a good Christian and need the help of the gracious Saviour.
And vvhoever thinks othervvise — "
* See the four other Parts.
[447] EN6LISH PART 79
Laughingly old Leschko interrupted her : " By the thunder of God, do
you believe then, Katja Garowicz, that I aiiia worse Christian ? Witli me
shall Michael live, whether lie returns haie orill. Witlius,littledaugiiter,
is it not so ? "
Mania sobbed too violently to be able to aiiswer. She merely nodded
very eniphatically.
But then the last whistle sounded. " Now then, take your seats ! "
And a few minutes later Michael and his comrades had vanished from
the eyes, red witli weeping, ol'those who remained liehind.
[To be continued.)
Friedrich Werner Yan Oestéren.
Pete and Pete.
Theysat together forward, under scant' shadows, while the dirty little
coaster - lay neariy becalmed in the Garibbean ^ Her sails flapped idiy;
hot air danced over the deck and along the buhvarks; in front extended
a scattered panorama ofislands. Each little islet shone, dotted grey or gold-
en, against the deep sapphire of the sea, and silver surges twinkled at
the lonely ramparts of them. Hère and there, aboard, a spar creaked lazily,
or a block creaked, as the vessel, laden heavily, rolled on a swell ^. The
sun blazed and the beat was tremendous, but Pete and Pete basked in
it and loved it. Neither saw the necessity for head-covering; indeed, Pete
the greater wore no clothes at ail. He sat watching Pete the less ; anon %
he put forth a small black hand for a banana ; then, witli forehead
puckered "^ into aworldof wrinkles and fnrrows, he inspected liisname-
sake's work ; and later, tired of squatting'' in the sun, hopped on to the
buhvarkand up the mizzen '^ shrouds^
Pete the greater was a brown monkey, the treasured property of
the skipper '" ; and Pete the less, now cleaning some flying-lish for the
cook, was a negro boy, the treasured property of nobody — a small lad,
with tattered*' trousers, from beneath which stuck clumsy naked toes,
a lean body, more of which appeared than was hidden by the rags of
his shirt, and great black eyes like a dog's. He was, in fact, a very dog-
like boy. When the men scolded him, as mostly ''^ happened, he cowered,
and hung his head, and slunk away, sometimes showing a canine tooth ;
when they were in merry mood he frisked and fasvned and went mad
with delight. But the chance seldom happened. He had a grim master,
and an awful responsibility in the shape of Pete the greater, for a ship's
monkey in the tropics commands a deal of ^' attention.
This activebeast, under the skipper, was Pete's '' boss " *K The sadors
said he always saluted it, and everybody knew that he talked to it for
hours at a time. When the lad first came aboard, skipper Spicer put the
matter in a nut-shell — " See hère, nigger — this monkey's your charge ;
1. Scantv. - 2. Coasting i/essel. — 3. [Sea]. — 4. Houle. — 5. Presently. —
6. Drawnup. — 7.Sitting. — S. Arliinon. — 9. Haubana. — 10. Captain or master of
the vessel. —11. Torn. — 12. Generally. — 13. Mucli. —14. An Americnti woni
for master.
80 ENGLISH PART |448|
yoivve just got to watch it, and feed it, and think of it ail the time. And
bear in mind he's a deal more valuable than anything else aboard this
ship. So remember there'll be a fine row hère if any harm cornes to
Pete. " " l's call Pete too, massa, *^ " the boy answered, grinning at what
struck him as a grand joke.
The monkey chevved a banana ; it stripped oft'the nnd**^ with quick,
black fingers, tilled its moiith, stufîed its cheeks and then munched'^ it
and looked at Pete. It held its head on one side as though thinking and
weighing each vvord, and Pete was convinced that itunderstood him. The
boy was ten years old, and knew little of the world, save that sugar-cane
wassweet to the mouth, buthard tocome by** honestly. Pete the greater
lived in his master's cabin and Pete the less often heard the skipper
talking tohim. If the caplain could talk to his monkey, surely a nigger
might do so ; and it comforted the boy to chalter tothe beast. None else
on board hadtinie or inclination to attend to him. Presently the skipper
came on deck, and both Petes saw him at the same moment, and the
monkey leapt chattering to his favourite perch on the skipper's shoiilder.
Spicer had ovvned the monkey Hve years. It belonged once to his wife,
and \Yhen she was dying, she mentioned itand made itover''* to him. That
and his old watch were the only treasures he had left in the world.
Seeing the watch and chain danglingfrom his master's pocket, Pete the
greater seized them and ambled-" off to the side of the vessel. It w^as a
trying moment as the monkey made for a perch on the rigging-' and as
he went about on ail fours--, the watch bumped against the ship's side.
The captain called to the monkey in vain and rushed towards it, but
just as his hand was within reach of the watch, Pete squeaked and
dropped it into the sea. There was a splash, a gleam of gold, and the
treasure sank, flashing and twinkling down through the blue, and then
vanished for ever. A great gust of passion shook the man, and he hissed
and growled like an angry beast. He seized the monkey by its neck,
shook it, and ilung it overboard. He reeled away, not stopping to see a
sraall brown headrise from thefoam where Pete had fallen. The monk-
ey fought lor it ; two terrified eyes gazed upwards as the ship swept by
him; his red mouth opened with a little scream, and his black paws
beat the waves.
There was only one soûl aboard who would bave gone into a
shark^^-haunted sea to save a monkey, but that soûl did not think twice
about it. Pete the less came on deck too late to see the catastrophe,
though in time to note Pete the greater in the jaws of death. The boy
could swim like a duck, and as a boat was lowered smartly, and the
sharks stayed elsewhere, it was not long belore Pete and Pete came
aboard together. Both were jolly in an hour. The skipper was rejoiced
to hâve his pet monkey safe, and in the future rarely kicked his cabin-
boy more than once in a day !
Abridged from
EdEN POILLPOTTS
15. 1 ani also called, Pete, master. — IG. Écorce. — 17. Mâcha. — 18. Acquire. — 19.
Bequeathed. — 20. Walked. —2\.. Manœuvres. — 22. On lus four paws. — 23. iîegMi».
Les Cinq Langues
NMl.
5 Mars 1908.
8° Année.
ENGLISH PART
The Way of the World.
Mr. George Meredith.
George Meredith became eighty years of âge on Feb. 12. The mère fact of
so long a life links the career of oneof our mostdistinguished novolists aliko
with the past masters of fiction and
the modem period. For when Mere-
dith began to write, the great men of
the Victorian era were alive and in
the heyday' of their prosperity. The
Ordeal ^ of Richard Feverel, which
was published in 1839, came out
in the same year as George Eliot's
Adam Bede, Thackeray 's Virgin-
ians, and Dickens's Taie of Two
Ci lies.
The following mémorial to Mr.
George Meredith lias been presented
by scme of bis friends and admirers.
The address is mounted on vellum^
and has been beautifully bound in
morocco. The monogram " G. M." is
worked in each corner in gold. The
address reads as follows:
George Meredith
To GEORGE MEREDITH, 0M\ npon his
eightietfi bivlhday.
Dear Mr. Meredith — Many of your fell-
ow-countrymen will join ni fehcitating you
upon this your SOth birthday. We désire on our own behalf to thank you for the
splendid work in prose and poetry that we owe to your pen — to say how much we
rejoice in the growing récognition of this work — and to thank you for the example
you hâve set to the world of lofty ideals embodied not only in books, but in life.
Most heartily do we wish for you a continuance of health and happiness. — We are,
dear Mr. Meredith, yours faithfully.
Upon the vellum are inscribed the names of four of Mr. Meredilh's old
friends and literary colleagues — Mr. Swinburne, Mr. Thomas Hardy', Mr.
John Morley, and Mr. Frederick Greenwood \ Following thèse come the sig-
natures of more than a himdred of the leading British writers of the présent
day, not merely in fiction and poetry, but in history, biography, science, art,
the drama, and criticism. To thèse succeed a long list of men and women in
public life.
i. Beaux jours. — 2. Trial. —3. Member of the Order of Merit. — 4. The nov-
•elist. — 5. The vétéran journalist and editor.
[62J
ANGL. 11
82 ENGLISH PART [490]
In addition to the name of llie French Anibassador at Waliington,
M. Jusserand, corne the following members of the French Academy :
René Bazin, G. Boissier, Paul Bourget, Anatole France, Paul Hervien, Henri
Houssaye, Jules Lemaître, A. Mezières, and A. Ribot.
TheLate Sir James Knowles.
Not long ago mention was made, in Les Cinq Langues, of the second success-
ful opposition to the proposed Channel Tunnel by Sir James Knowles,
editor and proprielor of The Nineteenth Ceninry, now known as The Nine-
teenth Century and After. Sir James Knowles has now passed away in his 77 th
year. Duringthelast thirty years, in his Review he had obtained the opinions
on important siibjects of most influential and eminent personages, e. g.
Lord Tennyson and Mr. Gladstone. Ile will be much missed in literary and
dramatic circles.
Cambridge and the Gentenary of Charles Darwin.
It is proposed that a commémoration shall be held at Cambridge next year
in célébration of the one-handredth anniversary of the birth of Charles
Darwin. Darwin wasborn onFebruary 12, 1809, and entered Christs Collège,
Cambridge, in October 1827 ; he took an ordinary degree, and in after years
his collège was prevented by his death from electing him an Hon. Fellow*
under their newstatutes. " The Origin of Species " was publishedon Novem-
ber 24, 1859 ; so that next year is the centenary of the great scientist's birth
and the fiftieth anniversary of his epoch-making work. The Council of the
Senate at Cambridge propose thallhe célébration be held in the week begin-
ning Jnne20, 1900.
1. Açirègé honoraire.
The inner Life of a Club.
Few who find a comfortable and generally luxurious home in a club
quite réalise how the resuit is altained. They are not intimately acquainted
with the mechanisni, the well-contrived, slowly perfected System on which
it Works, the whcels on which it rnns, the agents and governors that apply
and direct the motive-power. It has ail been Ihonght ont and patientlye\olv-
ed after trial and practical experiment, so Ihat every part lias been fitted
into itsplace, and every function is performedsmoothly and with admirable
précision. It is a triumph of " red tape ""' at its best, of organised method
and strict observance of minute détail.
For convenience of description letme say, paradoxically, the day at a club
begins the night before. About 9. p. m., when the riish"^ isover, the chef or
cliief cook takes stock of what is left on hand\ and frames the estimate of
what will be required for next day's consnmption. Ilis calculation is based
upon the season of the year, and the average number of membei-s using the
club at the time, from which he arrives at the probable qnantitieshe svill
want, the amoiint of méat, poultry, vegetables, flsh^ game, and minor
supplies. If heis wise, he looks ahead and lays in things to hangand matureS
1. Officiai routine, because tape is much used in public offices. — 2. Hiirry. —
3. Goes through the provisions etc. that remain. - 4. Uecome ripe or seasoned.
[4911 EJSGLISH PART 83
but the nights orders cover next day's demands, ail of which are lianded
over to the kitchen clerk for transmission to the tradesmen, who will deliver
their goods.
At the same lime the housekeeper who ruies the '• still-room, "' which
with the kitchen provides the whole of the club food-supply, is busy like
the chef m her estimate for milk, butter, eggs, fancy bread, tea and coffee,
jams, pickles, olives, and sugar — thèse corne from contract tradesmen and
the co-operative stores. It is an interesting point that miifhns^ are in large
demand, and are delivered tvvice daily at the rate of foiirteen to the dozen«.
The housekeeper, like the chef, bases her estimate on the season of the year,
and, if she bas put it too low, suppléments the siipply forthwith.
The limcheon-lioiir, between 1. 30 p. m., and 3. p. m., is the bnsiest in
most clubs, when men gladly escape from their offices and daily business to
enjoy a little leisureand friendly intercourse. This is very much the praclice
at the City clubs when the times are dull, or yet more when some fortunate
coup calls for spécial rejoicing. In the West End, where idle men congregate,
a luncheon bas been prolonged till a late hour, followed by a short walk
and a return to table for a second feast. Club life is brisk in the afternoon,
when members gather eager for news and gossip.
The tea-hour again brings in numbers who a few years ago would bave
swallowed their sherry and bitlers, and who now prefer their mild bohea".
The increaseof tea-drinking willalways count as one of the strangest featur-
es of the âge ; it is the prevailing habit in clubs and counting-houses, in
messes^ and common rooms^ and in my lady's chamber. The best proof of
ils popularity is to be seen in the extension of tea-houses, and the nnfailing
introduction of tea at afternoon calls in private bouses.
The club at dinner-time is left very much to the hibitiu's, the members
who most largely use it, with the floating population perpetually passing
through, and a class of varying dimensions, who profit by it and the advant-
ages it offers to entertain their friends. The attendance greatly diflfers ; one
night the club may be (juite fuU, at another a bowling wilderness'", but
some of the clubmen will always be in évidence, exhibiting much the same
traits, flnding fault generally, and ail their attention concentrated upon the
most important function of the day.
Clubs and Clubuien.
by Major Arthur Griffiths.
5. GaZe<<e appears to be the French équivalent. — 6. A " baker's dozen" is thirteen.
— T.Tea instead of wine. — 8. Miiitary dining-rooms. — 9. University or Collège
rooms for meals. — 10. Altogether empty.
The Golden Hynde
With the fruit of Aladdin's garden, clustering thick in her hold,
With rubies a-wash - in her scuppers ^ and her bilge * ablaze with gold,
A world in arms behind her to sever her heart from home,
The Golden Hynde drove onward, over the glittering foam.
If we go as we came by the Southward, we meet wi' ^ the fleets of Spain
'Tis a thousand to one against us: we'U turn to the West again ;
1. Tlie vessel in which Drake sailed across the Pacific had on its prow the flgure-
bead of a golden hind (or deer). — 2. Floating in the water. — 3. Dalots. —
4 . Cale. — 5. With.
8ï ENGLISH PART [4921
We hâve captiired a China pilot, his charts and his golden keys ;
We'll sail to the Golden Gateway, over the golden seas.
What shall we see as we sail there ? Clusters of coral and palm,
Océans of silken slumber, measureless Icagnes of calm,
Islands of pnrple story, lit vvith Ihe westering gleam,
Washed with the mystic whisper, dreaniing the world-wide dream.
White hands g will strive io hold us ; but we must rise and go —
Down to the sait sea-beaches where the waves are whispering low ;
White arms will plead in anguish, as the sails fill out the breeze,
And we turn to the Golden Gateway that burns on the golden seas.
\Ve shall put out from shore then ; out to the Western skies,
With the old despairing raptiire and the sunset in our eyes :
What shall we gain of our going ? What of the fading gleam,
What of the gathering darkness, whatof Ihe dying dream "?
Only the unknowii glory, only the hope deferred,
Only the wondrous whisper, only the uiiknown Word,
Voice of the God that gave us billow and beam and breeze,
As we sail to the Golden Gateway, over the golden seas'.
Alfred Noyés *.
(1. Of mermaids or sirens. — 7. This poem isfull of the glamour that enchanted the
Eiizabethan seamen.
* A poet of niuch promise, aiithor of nn unfinished Epie on (Sir Francis) Drake.
The Death of a Hero*.
m
The régiment, to which Michael Lobicki had been assigned, was,
almost as soon as it arrived, sent to the front of the army, and aiready
after only a few days involved in a combat with the enemy. It was no
collision of important masses of troops, only an insigniiîcant skirmish.
But fate wonld hâve it that Michael was severely vvounded. A sabre-
stroke caught him in the face, a missile shattered his leg below the
knee. For four months long he lay in hospital at Harbin ; then hc was
discharged as healed, and sent back home as unfit for service. The right
leg was only his own flesh and blood as far as the knee, the rest was
wood. From the left cheek over the mouth as far as the chin there
descended a broad red scar which disligured the whole face and
especially spoilt the lips which it eut through. Also three teeth were
missing. It was no longer the young fellow beautiful as a picture, who
scarcely eight months before had left his native village sound and
vigorous , now it was a hateful, sickly cripple for whom even the
glittering cross for valour upon his breast could not make life worth
loving. Good, holy Mother ol God, what had Michael sutfered in bodily
pains, what did he suffer now, as he had to retnrn home, in mental
agony ! How had he roared with grief, when for the first time after his
recovery he saw his face again in the glass ! How had he groaned when
* See the four oliier Parts.
[493] ENGLISH PART 85
he had to begin to learn to walk over again witli his wooden leg like a
quite little child ; how bitterly did he cry, full of anguish and
anxiety for the future, when he thought of Ihe return home! He vvas as
thin as a dying maii, as pale as a corpse, mournful asa poor, condemned
soûl. Mania, Mania! What will Mania say ? and Katja and ail the
others? They will weep with him, around him, God be pralsed that they
were good Christians ! They will not despise him, repel him, oh no!
but love him and tend him. Yes, but Mania ? Will she stili love him,
the cripple with the horrid wooden leg and the hideous scar ? The
young man's heart was heavy, very heavy, oh ! so very heavy !
It had become known in the village that Michael Lobicki was return-
ing home wounded. A comrade, who knew how lo write, had written a
card for him. How severely Michael had been wounded and how he
now looked of course was not mentioned on the card; and so no one in
the village knew it as yet. But as soon as the news came, there was an
agitation, an agitation, oh you dear Saints! just as though there were
coming himself the most nobly born General Kuropatkin, who was
said to be so famous a commander. The beautiful Mania sobbed like a
mad woman ail day long without intermission. They had wounded her
Michael, those godless, malicious Japanese — might God's lire consume
them ! — her beautiful, beloved Michael. As soon as thin Katja remarked
bitterly that it showed no righteous Christian sentiment and very liltle
love, for one to cry over the wounding of a betrothed, instead of rejoic-
ing over his return like a blessed angel into God's kingdom ofHeaven
— then for the hrst time did Mania cease to groan. And then old Lesch-
ko rejoiced, and called his little daughter a heroine worthy of a hero :
But with growing uneasiness, tension, and anxiety ail in the village
awaited the return home of Michael Lobicki.
The arrivai of the expected one was, however, unduly delayed.
Several times he had to break the journey and to wait, sometimes for a
long time, sometimes for a short time, in Siberian towns, before he
was permitted to take the next train. Why this happened he himself
never learnt. There were military secrets, as he was told. Finally after
a dreadful journey he reached Warsaw. There once more there was a
delay of three days. For that he had the gratification of hearing many
words of praise from the most nobly born General, before whom he
was brought, and he received into the bargain several beautiful, shining
pièces ofgold. Then he could continue the journey home. But at the
station he went tirst to an officiai. A dark feeling of anguish, shame, and
sorrow impelled him earnestly to beg the well-born gentleman to be ■
so noble and gracions as to send off a telegram — to be paid for, of
course. And so it happened that Katja Garowicz received a telegram from
her brother. In this was given the hour of arrivai, besides the request
to say nothing to anyone, but to come alone with a little carriage to the
station. If, however, in spite of this, half an hour later everyone in the
village knew that and when Michael was coming, that certainly was
not the fault of Katja alone, iipon her soûl ! but aiso that of the village
railway officiai.
[To be conlinued).
Friedrich Werner Van Oestéren.
86 ENGLISH PART [494]
The Distribution of the Crimean Medals.
A beautifiil and a touching siglit and ceremony (the iirst of the kind
ever witnessed in England) the distribution of medals was. From the
higbest Prince of the Blood to the lowest Private, ail received the same
distinction for the bravest condiict in the severest actions, and the rough
hand of the brave and honest private soldier came for the tirsttime in con-
tact with that of their Sovereign and their Qiieen ! Noble fellows ! I own
I feel as if they were my oivn i children ; my heart beats for them as for
my nearest and dearest. They were so touched, so pleased; many, I hear,
cried — and they won't hear of giving up their Medals, to hâve their
names engraved upon them, for fear they should not receive the identical
one put into iheir hands by me, which is quite touching. Several came
by in a sadly mutilated state. None created more interesloris moregallant
thanyoung Sir Thomas Troubridge, who had,at Inkerman, oneleg?Lnd the
other fooL carried away by a round shot, and continued commanding his
battery till the battle was won, refusing to be carried away, only desiring
his shattered limbs to beraisedin order to prevent too great a hemorrhage !
He was dragged by in a bath-chair -, and when I gave him his medal, I
told him I should makehimone of my Aides-de-camp for his very gaUant
conduct, to which he replied : " f am ampiy repaid for anything ! " One
musl révère and love such soldiers as thèse !
The Lelters of Queen Victoria.
1. Queen Victoria is the writer. — 2. Chair iii which an iiivalid is drawn.
TheEnglish People'
Plato. — Hovv then does your State subsist ?
Landor-. — Hy the grâce of the gods. The English democracy is the most
remarkable in the world, It is at once the strongest and the weakest, the
fiercest and the tamest, the least instructed in the learning of books and
the most highly trained in the discipline of life. INone was ever so stu-
dious of liberty, yet so submissive to control ; none so angrily intolérant
of remediable hardships, and yet so nobly patient under those which
nature has imposed.
PLA.T0. — To what is this happy balance of their tendencies to be
referred ?
LvNDOR. — 1 know not. I know only that it exists, and that the
unbroken tranquillity of our country attests it. The subversive impulses
of this people are the superficial ones : their Gonservative instincts lie
1. This is extracted from The Neic Liician, a séries of Dialogues of the Dead, by
the lateH. D. Traill, a most accomplished man of letters. —2. Walter Savage Landor
(1713-1864) was permeated with the classical spirit. His dramas and his verse were
not popular ; in his dialogues, the Imaginary Conversations, his best work is to be
found.
[495] ENGLISH PART 87
deeper ; but \ve know that they miist be there. Weslward through the
Hellespont and eastward through the Pillars of Héraclès ^ the siirf'ace-
currents both IVom the Euxine ^ and IVom the Atlantic pour perpetually
into the Inland Sea ' ; but the waters of ils basin keep their bounds, and
they must needs, therefore, be depleted '^ through one chaunel or the
other, by the baekset "^ of some deeper-tlowing stream. Even so it is vvith
the domocracy of England. It is for ever being fed full through the two-
fold inlet ^ of Teaching and Circumstance ; yet the shores of our society
remain unwasted, and the rocks of our Constitution still lift their heads
above the waves.
Plato. — Among such a people there must be some inbred principle
of obédience, and it should be easy to educate them to perceive what is
beautiful as well as Avhat is just.
Landor. — The fault is not in the nation, but in its circumstances. It
is as docile in its tastes as in its politics, but there are none to direct it
in either.
Plato. — If you fmd your countrymen so unteachable in the humane
life, would it not be belter to abandon the attempt ? Other nations will
be found to hand on the torch of Hellas, if yours should lose the honour
of the office.
Landor. — The name and the vvorks of England will endure as long
as those of Hellas and of the conqueror of Hellas, vvhom, with no un\\arr-
anted self-praise, \ve boast ourselves to resemble. England has given
laws to a dominion wider even than that of Rome, and has spread her
language and her customs among millions over vvhom the Pvoman eagles
never soared '.
Plato. — Why, then, are you not content wilh thèse titles to the
remembrance of mankind ?
Landor. — Because they are too splendid for any nation to remain con-
tent with . Achievements as great as ours hâve never failed to leave behind
them aspirations vaster than themselves. Those who hâve surpassed the
work of the Roman may well be tired vvith the ambition to rival that
of the Greek.Moreover, you should remember, 0 Plato, that in proportion
to our control over the destinies of mankind is our debt to the human
mind and soûl. At présent, hovvever, vve are in no vvay to discharge it. I
own '°, indeed, that when I measure in imagination the span " of our
conquests, I am unable to rejoice over the weaith of outvvard prosperity
which they hâve conferred ; for I can think only of their tremendous
déductions from theaggregateof invvard happiness throughout the vvorld.
Plato. — Déductions ! You surely can only mean that they hâve not
increased it.
Landor. — Not so, they hâve diminished it. Wheresoever in the world
a people has passed under the sway '- of England, their lives, in becom-
ing more abundant, hâve ceased to satisfy their ideals. We hâve broken
in upon the secular '^ calm of ancient and outvvorn civilisations, and over
3. The Strails of Gibraltar. — 4. The Black Sea. — 5. Ihe Mediterranean. Plato,
naturaily, would require the geographical terms used in classical times. — 6. Emp-
tied. — 7. Backward current. — 8. Opening. — 9. Flew. — 10. Confess. — 11.
Extent. — 12. Ru!e. — 13. Centuries old.
88 ENGLISH PART [496]
mincis which once reposée! in a passive and inciirious contentment we
hâve cast thespeilofour ovvn unsatisfied longings'^ .The savage'^ whom
wetame uniearns his simple delight in Nature, and gains access only to
our coarser pleasures in its stead. We hâve peopled onewhole continent""
Nvith our hmk-jawed'' kinsmen andfringed another ^^ with thecareworn
faces ofonr sons. A full half of the globe's surface is given over to the
melancholyEnglishman —with his sombre attire, his repellent manners,
liis mechanic habitudes of toil *'. Thehuman instinct ofself-preservation
will not long tolerate such a dominion as this. We are bound therefore
to seek the Hellenic spirit.
The IS'eii' Lucian,
byH. D. Trailf..
14. This is well shown in the unrest which is now visible in British hidia.and,
generally, in the unsettlingof tlie East by Western ideas. — 15. The .American hidian.
— 16. North America. — 17. The thin hatchet-shaped faces characteristic of the
modem American. — 18. Austraha. — 19. Since Mr. Traill wrote this in 1884 the
Englishman has become more of a pleasure-ioving créature.
Children.
Ah, what exquisite happiness do we not draw from our children ! It is
a common saying that children should be ever grateful to their parents
for the care and love bestowed upon them svhen they are young, for the
sacrilices we make l'or them, for the self-denial we practise to give them
pleasure, till the day arrives wheii they fly away to nests of their own,
as in our time we did. But should not weaiso be grateful to our children
Ibr the joy they bring into our homes, for the hours they l)righten, for
the innocent gaiety which rings like nuisic in our ears ? They are the
flowers of the world, which else ' would be a désert. Tiiere is nothing
more beau tiful to parents" ears thaii the joyous laughter of their children
which means that they are happy, making light - of their little troubles,
that they are like soldiers summoned to l)attle, ready to respond to the
call of duty.
B. L. Farjeo.n.
1. Otherwise. — 2. Tliinlvins little of.
The Merry-Maker.
After the service the little boy lingered behind, and insisted on seeing
the missionary. At length his wish vvas gratified. " Ah ! my lad, " said
the kindly clergyman, as he patted theboy's head; " do you wish to con-
secrate your young life to this noble work ? " " No, sir, " replied the boy,
" I wanted to know if you havo got any foreign stamps ".
The small boy was with his mamma buying |)resents. He became con-
vinced that the one thing to gladden baby's heart was a steam-engine.
" But, dear, " mamma remonstrated^ " l'm afraid baby would hurt him-
self. " " Oh, 110, mother, " said the small boy earnestly ; " really he
wouldn't. 1 wouidn't even let him louch it ! "'
Les Cinq Langues
N» 12.
20 Mars 1908.
8° Année.
ENGLISH PART
A Century of Chemistry.
At the Royal' Institution Professer Thorpe, a chemist of renown, delivered a lecture
on " The Centenary of Davy's Uiscovery of the Metals of the Alkalis ". A learned con-
tributor to The Daily Teleyroph celebrated the occasion by a most entertaining and
t'ascinating article.
It was on Oct. 19, 1807, that lYom crude potash, and, a little later, froni
soda, Sir Humphry Davy extracted by means of Ihe electric current, new
metals which he rightiy called
potas.sium and sodium. It was
a wonderful triumph, and ail
London marvelled at the pro-
duction from such common and
familiar substances of new,
white, soft, easily-oxidised, shin-
ing metals, which the eye of
man had never seen before !
Even in présence of ail the
wonders of modem chemistry,
we can readily believe that
" When Davy first saw the glob-
ules of the new métal, potass-
ium, his delight was so ecstatic
that it reqnired some time for
him to compose himselfto con-
tinue the experiment. " Thèse
successes Davy foUowed up by
literally unearlhing barium,
boron, calcium, magnésium,
and strontium ; ail new metals !
It was in the laboratory of the
Royal Institution in Albemarle-street where thèse things were done. The
thought arises : ^Yhat a period the cenlury bas been for chemistry ! The
retrospect brings to view new éléments, new laws, new processes, new
industries. No other hundred years bas done one-hundredth part so much.
If the readerwill examine the latestlist of eleraentary substances— that is,
of those primary materials of which the universe that we know is built up — '
he will find some eighty of them. Of thèse nearly ail hâve been discovered
since Davy began his research. Such éléments, for example, as those we
bave just mentioned, togcther with chlorine. iodine, fluorine, lithium, sélé-
nium, silicon, bromine, aluminium, thorium, ruthénium, caisium, gallium,
indium, thallium, and many others, including the most wonderful of ail,
radium, were undreamt of and unknown. Not a hint of thèse occurs in the
" Traité Elémentaire " of Lavoisier, the brillianl French chemist. So far as
rfifti ANGL. 12
Sir Humphry Davy.
90 ENGLISH PART 15381
thèse foundation-stones of ail matter, animale and inanimate, are concerned,
we live in a dillerent cosmos from that of Priestley, Cavendish, Lavoisier,
and their predecessors. Of course, nothing comparable to our radioactive
éléments had entered into tlie mind of man to conceive. Radium, with its
exhaustless stores of pent-up energy, was discovered less than (en years ago.
Hovv would the aciilest thinkers of the past hâve marvelled at Lord Ray-
leigh's fmding of the inert gas argon in the atmosphère, foUowed by Sir
William Ramsay's détection, very shortly afterwards, of hélium, néon,
krypton, and xénon, in marvellously minute quantities and yet présent
undiscovered in the atmosphère for countless âges. Of course, if it be true
that the very éléments of nature were unknown, it is necessarily true that
the compounds derived from them are the results of later research. Davy
isolated chlorine in 1810, hut chloroform, that most beneficent of agents in
surgery, was not produced until 1831, and not used as an an;esthetic until
1847. Diciionaries of chemistry to-day are filled with the names of thousands
of products of analysis and synthesis, that hâve been broiight into existence
since Davy foiind the metals of the alkalis, and that now enter into medicine
and tradc, and into everyday social life
More valiiable than new éléments are the new laws that hâve been reveal-
ed since the time of wliich we speak. There are four of the first order :
.John Dalton's law of chemical combinations in constant proportions ; Gay-
Lussac's law that gases unité by volumes in simple proportions ; Avogadro's
law that equal volumes of gases contain equal numbers of atoms ; and Dulong
and Petits law that the atoms of simple substances or éléments hâve equal
capacity for beat. In addition, we bave also .loule's doctrine of the Conserva-
tion of Energy, which affccts every branch of science, and Mendeleeffs classi-
hcation of éléments, which bas led to new discoveries. .John Dalton, the
colour-blind Quaker and philosopher of Manchester, was a contemporary of
Davy's. His great généralisation is one of the foundation-stones of chemistry.
It is a mistake to suppose that récent research bas removcd this corner-stone.
We now know that Dalton's atonas are not atoms, but it is still true that
" éléments combine in constant proportions by weight. " " The vast édifice
of modem chemistry, " said Sirlleorge Darwin, " bas been built with atomic
bricks. "
Davy used electricity to décompose the alkalis, and he had a wide surview
of the manner in which chemical and electrical forces were allied ; but he
could bave no conception that the researches of his pupil Faraday and his
successors would inake chemistry an electrical science. Sir (ieorge Darwin,
in his address as président of the British Association, in Cape Town, in 1905,
observed :
"Within the last few years the ele(;trical researches of Lenard, Rôntgen,
Becquerel, the Curies, and my colleagues Larmor and.l. ,1. Thomson, and
a host of others, bave shown that the atom is not indivisible, and a tlood of
lighl hasbeen thrown thereby on the ultimate constitution of matter. Among
ail thèse fertile investigators it seems to me that.J. J. Thomson stands pré-
éminent, because it is practically through him that we are to-day in a better
position for picturing thestriu;ture of an atom than was ever the case before.
It has been shown, then, that the atom really consists of a large number of
component parts. By varions converging lines of experimcnt it has been
proved that the simples! of ail atoms, namely hydrogen, consists of about
800 separate parts ; while the number of parts in the atom of the denser
mêlais must be counted by tens of thousands. Thèse separate parts of the
atom bave been called corpuscles or électrons, and may be desci-ibed as par-
ticles of négative electricity. "
That is to say, in the view of many of the most advanced thinkers of to-
day, chemical energy is electrical energy. .\ot a few would say that matter
ilself is electricity. Il m;iy, however, be said that thèse are physical ralher
[5391 KNGLISH PAflT 91
than Chemical questions. Truc, and thereby hangs a moral, for some ot'the
grealest advances in ph.vsics hâve been made by chemisLs, and some of the
greatest advances in chemistry by physicists. Davy and Faraday were chem-
ists ; 80 are Sir William Ramsay, Sir W. Crooives, and Sir James Dewar,
and the list might be \astly extended. Thèse facts merely show that thebest
préparation for the chemist is the study of physics, and the teachings of
chemistry are indispensable for the physicist. How much the chemist owes
to the natural philosopher for new instruments of research ! By means of
Kirchhoff's spectroscope, since 1860 chemistry lias been extended to the
heavens. Hélium was first foiind in the sun by Sir Norman Lockyer, and
then on earth by Ramsay. By means of Crookes's tube the innermost secrets
of niatter hâve been revealed.
Heroes of Peace.
The bestowal by the King of bis Edward Medal forbravery and self-sacrifice upon
two miners, one a grey-bearded man from Yorksliire, the other from South Wales,
recalls the many deeds of bravery done by heroes of peace. Mr. G. I". SVatts, R. A.,
the great painter. had placed in a gallery in the so-called " l'ostman's t*ark" (compos-
ed of old burial-grounds in the City), white marbie tablets conimemorating some
of those wbo iiad lost tbeir lives for the sake of others. X few instances may be given :
It is nine years since the wreck of the "Stella". Mary Rogers, the stewardess,
knew thaï the ship was going down as soon as she felt it strike upon the
Casquet Rocks. She kept her head, collected the ladies from their cabins,
gave them lifebelts, and saw them into small boats. As the last boat was
starting the sailors called out, " Jump in, Mrs." Rogers!" The brave steward-
ess, however, had noticed that one lady was without a lifebelt. She quietly
took oflfher own, put it on the passenger, saw her into the boat, and, as the
sailor repeated bis request, " Oh, no, " she answered, "If I get in, the boat
will be too heavy ; it will sink. Good-bye, good-bye ! "Then she raised her
hands in prayer, and the Stella sank.
On July 18, d89i, a small boy of 10 gave hislife for bis friend. Mortimer
was a little chap * younger than Clinton, and the two were playing by the
riverside near London Bridge. Mortimer, probably in foolish bravado, went
beyond bis depth. Clinton sprang after him, and siicceeded in bringing him
to the shore. When he was climbing out of the water be slipped back and
was drowned. Several people saw tiie incident, but no one was near enough
to give help to the poor little hero. The same boy Clinton had saved bis
baby brother from death shortly before he lost bis life in the rescue of bis
friend. The baby had been playing with matches, and set his clothing on
fire. The brother at once rolled him on the carpet and got Ihc fiâmes out.
He puUed the curtains of the room down, and, no doubt, prevented a big
fire. The boy was the son of a carman at Walworth, and was much liked
by his teachers wbo sent a wreath for his funeral. The Metropolitan Fire
Brigade - sent another, and the little lad whose life was saved sent on a
wreath of flowers the significant words : " He saved me. "
Alice Ayres was a gênerai servant, only 20 years old on April 26, 1885,
1. Fellow, boy. — 2. Pompiers.
KN6LISH PART
|540]
when shc lost her life by irying to save the lives of lier master's children
during a fire at night. In the cemetery at Isleworth a mémorial is raised to
the memoi-y of her " Noble act of unseUish courage". At the time her bra-
very much stirred the public mind, and amongsl the verse tributes paid her
was a sonnet composed by E. P. J. :
Alice Ayres.
" Tlie Virgin Martyr ^ is the glorions name
Of one fair heroine of our drama's page ;
But Alice Ayres trod on no miniic stage^
She won her glory on a field of tlame.
The martyrs rank she may as jiistly claim
As any victim to a bigot's rage ;
The parents' blessing is her héritage :
Saved children guide her to the shrine of Famé.
Less gallant acts on some great battle-field
Ihive laid a hero in some abbey's nave.
And o'er bis tomb the solemn bells bave pealed.
A nobler warfare brought her to her grave,
Daiintless dévotion served her as a shield,
Self-sacrifice's armonr made ber brave. '"
3. The title of a tragedy by Philip Massinger.
Mr. Balfour on Décadence.
Mr. Arthur Ikilfonr, thoiigh now best known as a politician, has from his
Cambridge days been a keen
philosopher and metaphysician,
and a close observer of scientific
progress. Recently, at Newnham
Collège (for Ladies) at Cam-
bridge, Mr. Balfour delivered
the Henry Sidgwick Mémorial
Lecture in honour ofthat emi-
nent philosopher and economist.
The snbject chosen was " Déca-
dence", and Mr. Balfour tried to
show that the applications of
modem science might stay, for
us, the decay which has befallen
ail earlier civilisations. His
déclaration in favour of science
;is against philosophy has caused
considérable debate. The vital
passages of the lecture were :
A new social force had come into
being ; new in magnitude, if not
in kind. This force was the mo-
dem alliance between pure science
and industry, and on that we
must mainly rely for the improvement of the material conditions under which soci-
Mr. Balfouk»
[541] ENGLISH PART 93
eties lived. If, in the last 100 years, the whole material setting' of civilisée! life had
altered, we owedit neither to politicians nor to political institutions, but to the com-
bined efl'orts of those who had advaaced science and those who liaiapplied it. If our
outlook upon the universe had suCfered modifications in détail, so great and so numer-
ous that they amounted to a révolution, it was to men of science we owed it, not
to theologians or philosophers. Science was the great instrument of social change,
ail the greater because its ob.ject was not change, but knowledge. Itssilent appropria-
tion ot this dominant function amid the din of political and religions strife was the
most yital of ail the révolutions which had marked the development of modem civil-
isation.
A due succession of men above the average in original capacity is necessary to main-
tain social progress. Democracy is an excellent thing, but though quite consistent
with progress, it is not progressive per se. Its value is regulative, not dynamic -'. and
if it meant (as it never does) social uniformity, instead of légal equality, we should
become fossiiised at once. Movement may he controUed or checked hy the many ; it
is initiated and made effective by the few .
The conclusions at which I provisionally arrive are that we cannot regard déca-
dence and arrested development as less normal inhuman communities than progress,
though the point at which the energy of advance is exhausted (if, and when it is
reached) varied indiffèrent races. The influence which a superior civilisation, whether
acting by example or imposed by force, may hâve in advancing an inferiorone, though
often beneficent, is not likely to be self-supporting. Its withdrawal will be followed
by décadence, unless the character of the civdisation be in harmony both with the
acquired tempérament and the innate capacities of those who hâve been induced to
accept it. As regards those nations which still advance in virtue of their own inhér-
ent énergies, though time bas brought, perhaps, new causes of disquiet, it bas
brought also new grounds of hope. Whatever be the périls in front of us, there are, so
far, no symptoms either of pause or of retrogression in the onward movement which,
for more than a thousand years, has been characteristic of Western civilisation.
1. Framework. — 2. Movin^
The Falls of Niagara.
The Palis had a fringe ' of ice, and under a wintrv aspect were very
vvonderlul. The glimpses we had had of the country from tlie train above
the Falls wei^e not strikirïgas far as could be seen through the rains and
mists of the evening — mostly flatandgreen, with sniall trees. Fir trees of
not large growth fringe the rapids above the Falls ; but the Falls them-
selves are certainly stiipcndons, viewed from either above or below. On
Goatlsland, which divides them, one is surrounded with the sound of
the rush and roar of the water on ail sides, and one has the impression
of standing on a frail floating scrap of rock and earth which might be
swept away at any moment. The Falls form a solid-looking white wall of
falling water, but withont its sound and mov^ement it is difficult to convey
pictorially an adéquate impression of the wonder of it. The surging and
boiling torrent below, half veiled by floating clouds of spray and some-
times wreathed by broken rainbows, and the rushing rapids between
the narrow rocky channel beyond, form indeed a striking drama of the
force of water. The work of nian hère looks frail and insigniticant enough.
The thin suspension bridge, likea spider's web, Connecting the Ganadian
with the American side; the flimsy-looking hôtels on either side of this
1. Frange.
94 ENGLISH PART [542]
great natural wonder, do not form a befitting frame-work ; Lhoiigli in any
case, the scale of the Falls is so large that even Gyclopean building woiild
look insignificant.
Walter Gkank.
[An Artist's Réminiscences. )
The Death of a Hero *.
IV
Almost ail those avIîo liad been présent at the departure of Michael
l^obicki were also there once again at his return. In what agitation, with
what attention they waited for the yoiing hero who had shed his good,
red blood for the fatherland — oh ! that is impossible to describe. Katja
had in her anxiety even forgotten the request for the little carriage ; she
herself had hurried there on foot.Only Jan Leschkowith his pretty daugh-
tei' had arrived in a very excellent, yellow wicker chaise cushioned with
leather-covered bundles of hay. Mania was treini^liDg ail over her body.
At this moment she was as pale, good Lord Jésus! as pale as if she was of
wax, and again at the next moment as red as if she was coloured with
the blood which Michael had shed. Old Leschkowas really notless excited,
but never, never. God forbid ! would he hâve betrayed himself. He
understood, however, admirably how to appear to l)c qnitecalm : so he
spoke as little as possible, did not remove the pipe from between his
teeth, and surrounded himself with thick clouds of smoke. Gaspar Garo-
vvicz did the same as Jan ; that pleased him, indeed, extraordinarily well.
On account of his stupidity he could hardly ever say a word without this
— without boing scolded by Katja. Because of this ail the others taiked,
the idle, inquisitive loiterers, double and three timesas muchas thefour
persons related to Michael strove to be silent. The noise was sometimes,
indeed, so great that the raiiway officiai had to beg them vigorously and
politely to shut their mouths
At last the train came in sight ; slowly, slowly, it rolled in, and the
earth Irembled. Hut Mania trembled still more violenlly ; she had to
Ican with her whole weight upon her father to savo herself from fainting.
A prolonged whistle — and then the wheelsstood still. Then there burst
forth from the crowd of waiting ones a loud shout — no, never had so
loud a shout been heard before. They repeated without intermission
the nameof him who was returning home, and in between sounded the
cries: " Hurrah ! " " Long live Michael ! " " Welcome."' " May the good
Mother of God bless him ! '" " Oh ! Our hero ! "
(7b he coniinued.)
Frirdricii Wermïr Van Oiîstkmen.
* See the four other Parts.
[543] E^GL1SH PART 95
The Garavan.
Ot'ten as he lay awoke and savv the ghostly dawn steal across thc sky,
Jack seemed borne to the Âfrican camp, where the break of day, like a
gust ofvvind in a (ield of ripe corn, broiight a sudden stir anioug the
steepers. Alec had described to him so minutely the changing scène
that he was able to bring it vividly before his eyes. He saw hini corne
ont of his tent, in heavy boots, buckling ' on his belt. He wore knee-
breeches and a pith - helmet, and he was more bronzed than when they
had bidden each other farewell. He gave the order to the headman ^ of
the caravan to take up the loads. At the word there was a rnsh froni ail
parts of the camp ; each porter seized his load, carrying it otf to lash "" on
his mat and his cooking-pot, and then, sitting upon it, ate a few grains of
roasted maize or the remains oflast night's game. And as the sun appear-
ed above the horizon, Alec, as was his custom, led the way, folio wed
by a few men. A band of natives striick up a strange and musical chant,
and the camp, but now a scène of busy life, was deserted. The smoulder-
ing^ lires died ont with the rising sun, and the silent life of the forest
replaced the chatter and the hum of human kind. Giant beetles came
from every quarter and carried away pièces of offaT' ; small shy beasts
stole out to gnaw the white bones upon which savage teelh had left but
little ; a gaunt hyena, with suspicions looks, snatched at a bone and
dashed back into the jungle. Vultures settled down heavily, and with
deliberate air sought ont the foulest refuse.
Then Alec started upon his march, with his tighling men and his long
string of porters. They went along a narrow track, pnshing their way
through bushesand thorns, ortall rank '' grass, sometimes with difficulty
forcing through éléphant reeds which closed over their heads and shower-
ed the cold dew down on their faces. Sometimes they passed through
villages, with rich soil and extensive population , sometimes they plunged
into heavy forests of gigantic trees, festooned with creepers, where the
silence was unbroken even by the footfall of the traveller on the bottomless
carpet of leaves ; sometimes they traversed vast swamps, hurrying to
avoid the deadly fever, and sometimes scrub^ jungles, in which as far
as the eye could reach was a forest of cactus and thorn-bush. Sometimes
they made their way throngh grassy uplands with trees as splendid as
those of an English park, and sometimes they toiled painfully along a
game^ track that ran by the bank of a swift-rushing river. At midday a
hait was called. The caravan had opened outby then ; the men who were
sick or had stopped to adjust a load, others who w^^rc too weak or too
lazy, had lagged behind ; but at last they were ail ihere ; and the rear-
guard, whose orders were on no account to allow a single man to re-
main behind them, reported that no one was missing. During the beat
of noon they made tires and cooked food. Presently they set off once
more and niarched till sundown.
When they reached the place which had been fixed on for camping, a
1. boucler. — 2. Moéllp.. — 3. Chief man. — 4. Tie lirmly. — 5. Couver. — 6. Re-
fuse. — 7. Profusely growiiig. — 8. Low plants. — 9. Gibier.
96 ENGLISH PART [544]
couple of shots were tired as signais ; and soon tlie natives, men and
women, began to stream in with little baskets of grain or tlour, vvith
potatoes and chickens and perhaps a pot or two of honey. Very quickly
the tents were pitched, the bed-gear arranged, tlie loads counted and
stacked. The party whose duty il was to construct the zeriba *" eut down
boughs and dragged them in to forni a fence. Each little band of men
selected the site for their bivouac; one went off to collect materials to
build the buts, another to draw water, a third for lirewoodandstones, on
which to place the cooking-pot. At sunset the headman blew his whistle
and asked if ail were présent. A lusty chorus replied. He reported to his
chiefand received orders for the next day's march. Alec had said that
from the cry that goes up in answer to the headman's whistle, one could
always gauge the spirit of the men. If game had been shot,or from scarc-
ity the caravan had corne to a land of plenty, there was a perfect babel
of voices. But if the march had been long and hard, or if food had been
issued fora numberof days, of which this was the last, isolated voices
replied ; and perhaps one, bolder than tho rest, cried ont : I am hungry.
Then ail sat down to their evening meal, while the porters, in little part-
ies, were grouped around their huge pots of porridge. A little chat, a
smoke, and the white men turned in. And Alec, gazing on the embers
of his camp tire was alone with his thoughts : the silence of the night
was upon him, and he looked up at the stars that shone in their count-
less myriads in the blue African sky.
W. S. Maugham '.
10. The fortification made each night. — *A successful \vriter of novels and plays.
The Happiest Man on Earth.
Across the Iront of the cottage of Johann Schniid, who lives in the
village of Suhr, in the canton of Argovie, is the sentence, painted in
large letters : " Hère lives the happiest man on earth. " Sctimid, who is
fif'ty-live years of âge, said to an interviewer : " I defy you to lind a happ-
ier man than myself. i hâve never worked, never married, never been
ill, and hâve never been anxious for the future. I eat well, drink well,
and sleep well. What more would you hâve ? " When young, Schmid
Avas lelt by his father an income of about £ 1 a week and a small pièce
ofland. He built his cottage on the land, and lias occupied it ever
since.
Bibliophile [acjlinsl ^). — - 1 beg your pardon, inadam, but that book
your little girl is playing with isan old and exceedingly rare lirst édition.
Caller^ — Oh, that's ail right. It will amuse herjust as much as if it
were nice and new. "
1. Horriûed. — 2. Visitor.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 13. 5 Avril 1908. 8' Année.
ENGLISH PART
The Way of the World.
The Franco-British Exhibition.
It is ofïiclally aiiiionnced tliat about the end of May Président Fallières
will visit England, and that King Edward, accompanied by his giiest, will
open the Franco-British Exliibition at Shepherd's Rush, once a siiburb of,
now a district in, the west of London.
M. Fallières' visit will be one of State, and is to ex tend over se\eral days,
in the course of which the Président will be entertained by the Corporation
of the City of London at a déjeuner at the Guildhall, and be made the
récipient of an address of welcome enclosed in a gold casket.
Spécial arrangements will be made to enable his Majesty and his illus-
trions gnests to make a tour of the Exhibition with thegreatest possible ease ;
and it is thoiight that the King will be accompanied by the Queen, and
the Président by Madame l"\al Hères.
The visit to Shepherd's Bush will be in fuU State, and arrangements for
the réception of the King and the Président are being made by the Duke of
Argyll, who is the honorary président of the Exhibition. A spécial Royal
pavilion is to be erected, and nothing will be left undone to invest the occa-
sion wilh the dignity betitting its importance and signiticance. The King and
Président will. on arrivai, be received by the Duke of Argyll and a number
of memhers of the committee.
Thackeray and Henry Hallam.
The folio wing interesting and pathetic letter, on the death of Henry
Hallam, written by Thackeray in 1850 to his friend Lady (then Mrs.) .James,
was one of the items in an autograph sale lalely ;
As I was talking with Brookûeld last night about our dear, kind, gentle boy, Harry
Hallam, who had the sweetest qualities and the most loving heart, and who, when I
was ill last year, showed me the most kiad and délicate proofs of afTection and sym-
pathy. . . He came a hundred miles last year to offcr me money in case I shd be in
want : he came down to see me at Brighton and gave me his arm for my firstwalk —
and lo — he's gone. This seems very incohérent - 1 dont kn^w why the words came
to me, and seem like an insuit on poor Harry's grave — and I dont know why I shd
begin talking to you in this way answering a note to dinner, but we dine and we die,
dont we ? and we get suddenly stopped on the highroad by a funeral crossing it.
This, along with eight other letters from Thackeray to the same corres-
pondent, was bought for i iOO.
Princes at Québec.
The projected visit in July of the Prince of Wales to Canada to represent
the King at the tercentenary of Champlain's foundation of Québec reminds
one that nearly forty-eight years hâve gone since King Edward first climbed
[74J ANOL. 13
98 ENGLISH PART [586J
the heights of Québec and captured every heart in Canada. " HisyoïUh and
dignified manner, " wrote the wife of Ihe Archdeacon of St. .John's. New-
fonndland, where the Prince hinded on .liily 2i, 1860, " seem to hâve touch-
ed ail hearls ; for thei-e is scarcely a man or woman who can speak ot
him without tears. The r(»iigh tishermen and their wives are quite wild aboiit
him. Their most fréquent exclamation is ' (rod l)less hi.s pretty face and sond
him a good wife. '" At Québec bis Royal Highness was received with the
greatest enthusiasm by the French Canadians.
The célébration isassuming national, or even international, importance.
St-Patrick's Day.
St-Patrick's Day, March 17, was duly celebraled by Irishmen and lovers
of Ireland, and the Queen's shamrock was di.stributed to the Irish Guards by
their Colonel, the vétéran Lord Roberts.
A great stimulus was given to the wearing of shamrock in England when
Queen Victoria gave permission for ils use among certain régiments. When
the order first came out there was an tinprecedented demand for the little
plant, and it was worn indiscriminately by Irish, English, Scotch, and Wclsh.
Irish people display it from purely patriotic motives, and it was, in their
case, a continuance of an old custom — olhers adopted it merely because
of its association with a Royal permission.
Shamrock is really a sort of trefoil *. It is the name given in some parts
of Ireland to one or more species of clover, and in England to the wood-
sorrel. Itis, in fact, clover in its poorest and wildest form. The spécial asso-
ciation of the shamrock with St. Patrick cornes from the tradition of his
having used the little three-leaved plant as an illustration of the Trinity. It
is looked upon as a curions coïncidence that the trefoil in Arabie is called
" shamrakh ", and was beld sacred in Iran as emblematical of the Persian
Iriads. In Pliny's Natnral Bistory it is stated that serpents are never seen
upon trefoil, and that it likewise prevails against the stings of snakes and
scorpions. When St. Patrick's association with snakes is considered, this
becomes remarkable and interesting. The" drowning of the shamrock " is
the term used by Irishmen to dénote that tliey bave celebrated their patron
saints feast-day with copions libations of Irish whiskv.
1. Tri'lle.
The Uses of the Cinematograph in the Study of Diseases.
Medicine and surgery bave brought to their aid many arts and sciences.
and occasionally availed tbemselves of inventions not primarily introduced
in their spécial interests. At the présent moment attention is being paid to
the adaptability of the cineraatogra|)h to the study of diseases and surgical
opérations. In this connection the Middlesex Hospital (in London) may be
said to hâve taken the lead. Démonstrations bave already been given at this
hospital and elsewhere to show the value of living pictures in the teaching of
nervous diseases. In a communication to the Lancet relating to thèse démon-
strations, it is pointed out that diseases of the nervous System are especially
vvell adapted for bioscopic illustration, since the abnormalities of move-
ment can ail be failhfully produced. Patients suffering from various forms
[S87J BNGLISH PART 99
of paralysis and kindred ' complaints were pholographed in living pictnres,
the, momenfary attitudes of the patients iieing recorded at the rate of t6
per second. «
The claims of tlie cineniatograph in the sphère of operative surgery hâve
not gone iinnoli(^ed, tliongh hitherto there has been practically no serions
step taken with it for teaching purposes. Dr, Doyen, of Paris, has for some
years past applied the invention to record rare and difticult opérations. As
far back as iSUS, at the meeting of the British Association, Dr, Doyen spoke
of this apparatns as a method of teaching and demonslrating the technique
of operative sui'gcry, and since thcn he has given many notable demon-
îitrations hero and on the Continent.
In the teaching of hygiène and bacteriology the micro-cinematograph
promises to play a piominent pari. Utilised in conjunction with the cinema-
tograph-projector, it is now possible to reprodiice on the screen - the move-
ments of varions bacilli, such as those of typhoid fever. Germs and mic-
robes are magnified from Iwo million to seventy-six million times, according
to the extent of magnificalion on the film, which varies from twenty-five to
8S0 diameters. The great problem which had to be solved in the perfecting
of the apparatus was the necessity of turning a ray of 2,000 candle-power on
to the speck ^ Ihat was being magnified and pholographed, and at the same
time not to destroy it by beat, Ordinary methods of preparing bacteria for
microscopic examination fail to give an accurate idea of the natural appear-
ance of the organisms. The investigation of living bacteria is rendered most
difticult by tlieir close resemblance to the média in which they are cnltivated.
A combination of lenses, however, has been found which permits of accurate
examination of living unstained bacteria.
According to the Lancet correspondent, for class teaching in médical and
other forms of éducation there can be no doubt that the cineniatograph will
prove to be very usefnl.
l. Similar. — 2. Écran. —3. Small spot.
On Some Poets.
Of the more modem singers one' can write but little, save to recall the
pleasure their acquaintance often gave. Mr. Swinburne was the writer who
excited most admiration, for bis diction was always as abundant and flowing
as a iaughing river. No one ever reached such perfection of music in our day.
His verses leap along Ihe paths of Parnassus, like tlower-scented breezes in
a thirsty land. liis own unfortunate deafness was helped in conversation by
the ever-ready aid of his devoted friend, Mr. Watts^, himself an excellent
writer and bosom friend of Swinburne, The poet seemed for ever to be haunted
byhis musical mètres, and one could seehis tlngers beating time to some har-
mony, which came not to his lips, for he was ever reserved, though kindly
in Society. His features and look reminded one of Shakespeare's portraits,
but there was a dreamy, far-away glancc about the blue eyes which the Great
Master probably never had. Then of our own day, again, were delightful
Browning and bis gifted wife. Browning was a man loving societyS and often
seen at assemblies, He was a short man, with pleasant, " straight " eyes,
grey moustache, and clipped beard. Morris •, the aulhor of the Earlhlij Para-
\. The Dukeof Argyll in liis Paxsoges from the Past.— 2. Now Mr. Watts-Dunton. —
3. Ail writers on Robert Browning hâve remarked this. — 4. William Morris, poet,
Socialist, decorator, and founder of the « Kelmscott Press ».
100 ENGLISH PART [588]
dise, was a man of sUirdier mould, but not unlike Browning in gênerai
appearance. He was equally good at writing, and designing wall-paper and
honsehold stuffs, but had littie of thp grâce of either his poetry or dras\ing,
and seemed to think von either too decorafive, or not décorative enough
when he met you. He did not object lo readingpapers he had wrilten on Art,
bofore societies, and then yen got llie benefit of what lie had to give, more
than by any conversation wilh him. He was never smooth except in verse.
Moickton Milnes, afterwards Lord lloughton, was of a very différent slamp.
His nickname in his yoiith was " the cool of the evening ". No one enjoyed
Society more, or was more worlhy of the popnhirity he enjoyed. His vivid
imagination gave him a constant sympathy with ahiiost every form of human
character. Aytoun was the Scottish poet of whom we were most proud. He
had written so savagely against our people*^ of the seventeenlh century that
hc was reserved and shy when we met him, and seemed to think there could
be littie good in such spawn'^ of llie Covenanters.
TiiE Duke o\- Argyll.
5. The Campbell clan. — 6. Descendants.
Oxford Revisited '.
Timid and strange like a gliost, I pass the familiar portais,
Echoing now like a tomb, they accept me no more as of old ;
Yet 1 go wistfully onward, a shade thro' a kingdom of mortals,
Wanting a face to greet me, a hand to grasp and to hold.
Hardly I know as I go if the beautiful City is only
Mocking me under the moon, with ils streains and ils willows agleam,
Whether the City of friends, or I that am friendless and lonely,
Whether the boys that go by or the time-worn towers he the dream ;
Whether the walls that I know, or Ihe unknown fugitive faces,
Faces like those that I loved, faces that haunt and waylay-.
Faces so like and unlike, in the dim unforgettable places,
Startling the heart into sickness that aches with the sweet of the May^. —
Othcrs liUc me hâve returned: 1 shall see the old faces to-morrow,
Down by the gay-coloured barges*, alert for the throb of the oars,
Wanting to row once again, or tenderly jesting with sorrow
Up the old stairways and noting the strange new names on the doors.
Over the Hadclitfe Dôme the moon as the ghost of a flower
Weary and white awakes in the plantom tields of the sky :
The truslful shepherded clouds are asleep over steeple and tower,
Dark under Magdalen'^ walls the Cher** like a dream goes by.
Back, we come wandering back, poor ghosts, to the home that one misses
Ont in the shelterless world, the world that was heaven to us then,
Back from the coil and the vastness, the stars and the boundless abysses,
Like monks from a pilgrimage stealing in bliss to their cloisters again.
Alfred ÎNoyks.
1. Memories of " Grey " Oxford hâve been recalled by many poets, who bave revisited
their old University town. — 2. Dresser toi guet-apenx. — 3. Hawtliorn. — 4. Each
Collège bas its own barge {canot de parade). — 5. In the grounds of Magdalen is
Addison's Walk. — 6- Tlie river.
[589] EJ?GL1SH PART 101
A Scholar Prince * .
Prince Louis Lucien Bonaparte was a very remarkable man and a great
studcnt ; an eminent cliemist, as well as agréât philologist. One of his spé-
cial studies in chemistry was that of poisons, and how far they could be
ntilised for the henefit of hnmanily. It svas his idea that hydrophobia was
caused by the circulation of the blood being over-stimulated, and as an anti-
dote, heconsidered that the poison of vipers - would bo beneticial, its effcct
being to diminish rapidity of circulation. With this object he iised to collect
vipers, and, having put pressure on their throats, he held a watch-glass ^ on
which they would deposit two drops of venom. This remody was tried on a
man in the last stage of hydrophobia, and, though his life was not saved, his
violence was softened and tranquillised. On one occasion Prince Lucien was
showing his vipers to a young lady of sentimental disposition, who professed
to wish to terminate her existence. She asked him for a viper, so as to carry
out her object, and he, knowing that the viper had been rendered innocuous
some hours before, gave her one immediately. The young lady said, how-
ever, that her death would grieve her mothertoomuch, and so she relinquish-
ed the idea.
The Prince's lingiustic studies were excessively minute and careful, and
he had begun a dictionary in, I believe, fifty-two languages^. He had aiso
erected a monument to the last woman known to bave spoken Cornish. He
paid especial attention to English dialects, and though not himself able
completely to formulate the pronunciation of English words, he detined
very clearly the rulesby which pronunciation should be guided. TheSong of
Solomon^ was translated by his orders into every English dialect.
In feature, the Prince presented a striking resemblance to the Emperor
Napoléon L He was a perfect encyclopaedia of learning, ancient and modem,
and wrote English idiomatically, as a resuit of niuch study. He had two
houses in Westbourne Grove. In one of them he lived, but he devoted the
other to science, forminga magniticent philological library, and converting
the cellars into a chemical laboratory. In his library there was the foUowing
inscription :
0 beata solituclo,
0 sola béatitude !
He never interfered in politics.
Sir il Drummond Wolff.
1. From the Ramhling Recollections of the diplomatist Sir H. Drummond Wolff. —
2. Serpent-water was once used as an antidote against tlie Plague. — 3. Verre de
montre. — 4. In 1894 a catalogue of his library was published in London. Some of
the rare books in many longues fetched low priées in the auction-room. — 5. Le
Cantique des Cantiques.
A Great Explorer.
The proposai to place a mémorial tablet in the parish church of
East Coker, near Yeovil, Somersetshire, to the seventeenth century navi-
gator, William Dampier, calls attention to a name famous in the annals
of geographical discovery. Explorer, and buccaneer', Dampier added
not a little to the knowledge of those then little-known régions, Aus-
tralia and New Guinea. A mémorial already exists to him in the names
1. Boucanier.
loa
ENGLISU PART
L590J
of several places in thèse parts of the world. Dampier Strait, the
Dampier Archipelago off the west coast of Australia, Dampier County and
Dampier Land, both in Australia,
and Dampier Island off the coast of
New (iuinea, ail commemorate his
explorations. Sailing along to the
eastern extremity of New Guinea,
he discovered an Island which he
circiimnavigated, and called New
Britain. On this island coming into
the possession of Germany in ISS'i,
its name was changed to New Pom-
mern, and the archipelago of which
it is the largest meinber is now
known as Bismarck's Archipelago.
Dampier was one of the earliest
writers on the peculiar animais and
jdants of Australia, having spent
some little time in Ihat part of the
conntry now known as Dampier
Land, near Roebuck Bay. In 1688,
Dampier called attention to the
vainable properties of the bread-
fruit tree, then known only as a native of the South Sea Islands, but
now largely cultivated in the tropical régions of both hémisphères.
William DAMriKK
The Death of a Hero
But where then was he? From carriage to carriage llew the looks of
ail, the most full of anguish being those of Mania, who feared every
moment to lose consciousness. Oh ! by God's grâce, how terribly wildly
her heart beat ! Now a man opened the door of a carriage before which
old Leschko with his daughter was just standing. Painfully, painfully,
pale as death, and tottering, supported on the arm of the helpful
employé, Michael Lobicki descended from this carriage, and stood sud-
denly near to Mania. Hit had not been aiready so dark,and if the petro-
leum-light of the only lamp at the station had not been so powerless,
Mania would certainly bave recognised him. But, however, she hardly
looked at him. As soon as she heard her name spoken softly, quite
softly, and timidly, she shrank back and stared, shaken by terror,
at the wretched cripple. And then, with the dreadful cry " Michael ! ''
she fell insensible npon the ground, before her father, whose arms were
at the same moment parai vsed with horror, could catch the slipping
girl.
The others had heard the maiden's cry of terror, and pressed to the
spot. And then there was stillness. One heard only the snorting of the
engine and the rollingof the wheels. When this noise, also, had ceased,
* See the four other Parts.
[591] ENGLISH PART 103
there reigned a church-yard quiet, a heart-breaking silence. No one
stirred, until ?iiddenly old I^eschko cried ont otlensively " Psia krew!
My good people, are yoii frozen, or bas God's thunder striick yon ? Help
me then to put my little daughter in the carriage !" Wilhont a sound sever-
al men picked up the girl vvho was lying stiff, and bore her to the
carriage. Others, both men and women, joined themwith slinkingsteps.
Tbereiipon were heard the gallop ofa little horse and the rattlingof the
britschka.
At the station it was yetasbefore still asdeath, quite,quite still. Then,
siiddenly, a sound rent this stillness, a sound vvhich struck cold on to
allhearts. Itvvas Michael Lobicki \vhosobbed,oh ! good Mother of Grâce !
sobbed so terribly as only men can sob.
Then a strange thing happened, Caspar Garowicz stepped up to the
crying cripple and spoke, he, the sound of whose voice had been almost
forgotten, " Michael, my dear brother-in-law ", said he, " you are a
great hero, and 1 love you, may God help me. Be welcome ". And he
kissed Michael on both cheeks.
Simultaneously now ail the others also found their tongues again,
and cheered even louder than before, and greeted and praised their
returned hero. Katja lell upon his neck and protested,sobbingiy, " I love
you, Michael, my brother, as true as I am a good Christian and hope to
be blessed. Come, my dear hero ! "
Michael shook his head sadly and said in a low voice : " Walking is so
hard, so hard ! Dear Katja, hâve you your little carriage with you ? "
No. she had forgotten the carriage, there was not another on the spot,
and the way to the village was far, too far i'or a poor wooden leg un-
accustomed to walking.
A youth hit upon an idea which ail the others hailed at once with
delight. " We'll carry our hero in triumph to the village ", cried he.
" Psia kreir, we are patriots and good Christians.
" Yes, we arethat, upon my soûl ", said Katja, " other people are not. "
By that she meant, of course, Leschko and his daughter. Michael l'emon-
strated sadly " I beg you, do not do it, " he asked. " I beg you. " But
that did not help him. Two strong fellows hoisted him on to their shoul-
ders — and oflf they vvent. The cripple bit his lips till the blood came, to
prevent crying ont. For the road was rough, and it pained Michael in
ail his limbs when his bearers stumbled, or changed step, or ran too
impetuously. And this was repeated frequently. Silently the hero wept
to himself. Those who carried him, and those who went before and
behind him, they ail saw nothing of this ; it was so dark .
{7'o be concluded.)
Friedrich Werner Yan Oestkren.
An Easter Monday Custom,
Battle of Villages.
Every Easter Monday in the villages of Hallaton and Medbourne, (says a
writer in Cycling) theancient custom of pie-scramblingand bottle-kicking
is maintained. The inhabitants, every Easter Monday, hâve something in
10't ENGUSfl PART [592J
the nature of a pitched* battle, village against village, when a terrifie
struggle ensues as each side seeks to establish superiorily over the other.
The proceedings begin about 10 a. m., when a spécial service is held
in Hallaton Church. Afterwards there is a procession of village champions,
attended by a brass band, and représentatives of the two communities
repair 2 to the vicarage. There they are received by the vicar, who formally
hands to them a couple of huge hare pies, specially prepared for the
occasion, and three wooden bottles, or small barrels, lilled with béer.
The pies are scranibled, naniely, broken into fragments and placed in
bags. Then the inhabitants of the two villages proceed to the top of a
hill midway between Medbourne and Hallaton. Arrived there, the pie is
distributed right and left among the crowd.
After that the real business of the day begins. Champions of both
places face one another. The leader of one side takes the first of the three
bottles, and, holding it above his head, hurls-' it to the ground with a
shout of " Down once, down twice, down three times ! " The third time
the bottle touches the ground, there is a wild rush to get possession by
both sides. The Medbourne nien endeavour to carry the bottle to Halla-
ton village cross, and the men of Hallaton seek to rush the trophy into
Medbourne. The villages are about two miles apart. The crowd — some-
times there will be 200 représentatives froin each place — sways * Ihis
wayand Ihal, backward and forward ail over the interveningland. Thrust-
ing, rushing, kicking, they go pell-mell through hedges, dykes, and muddy
pools ; plunging wildly along with one or another luckless wight ^ carrying
the bottle. At (irst ail is taken in good part, but after half-an-houror so of
bustling work a certain amount of keenness is, not unnaturally, introduc
éd. The village that succeeds in depositing two of the three bottles on
the cross in the opposing settlement is deemed the victor, and entitled to
consider itself the better of the two for the next twelve months. The eve-
ning is spent in a jovial way in the camp of the successful. Dancing and
other amusements are indulged in on the village green.
1. liangr. — 2. Go. — 3. Tlirows. — 4. Bends. — 5. Person.
Into a Scrape '.
" To getinto a 'scrape' had ori-jinally aliterai meaning", says a writer
in Casseirs Saturda;/ Journal. ** When deer roamed through our island,
they would frequently scratch '^ up the earth with their forefeet, leaving
a hole sometimes two feet in depth. When wayfarers passed through the
woods they ran the risk of tripping over thèse hoUows and wrenching
an ankle or twisting a thigh, and thus they were said to bave " got into
a scrape ",
1. Embarras. — 2. Gratter.
Les Cinq Langues
N<> 14.
20 Avril 1908.
8* Année.
ENGLISH PART
The Way of the World.
'' In conséquence of his conliniied illness,Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman
lias (lo the regret of ail) been obliged to resign, and Mr. Asqnith is the new
PruBe Minister. A Yorkshireman by birth, a barrister by profession, a brill-
iant spécimen of the successfiil Oxford
^:âteli^^^À\\, man, Mr. Asquith, who was first chosen
as Home Secretary by Mr. Gladstone in
1892, becomes Prime Minister al the âge of
35. He is a iiian of strongcharacter, but his
head is more powerful than his heart.
Major Arthur Griffiths.
Major Arthur Griffiths, the vvriter of
numerous exciting romances, lias recently
died. In early life he was a soldier, and
won the Crimean Medal ; his surviving
brother was one of the Mutiny Heroes,
and was présent at tlie (Capture of Delhi.
For long an Inspecter of Prisons, Major
Griffiths wrote much on prisons, crime,
and criniinals in an agreeable and some-
times anecdotal style. Quite lately in Les
Cinq Langues was given a pièce from his book on Club Life.
Sir Auckland Golvin.
In his 7lst year lias passed away Sir Auckland Golvin, who had held high
positions both in India and in Egypt. In 1880, in succession to Sir Evelyn
Baring (now Lord Cromer), he became Comptroller General under the Dual
Control, and was later Financial Adviser to the Khédive. At the time of the
Arabi troubles, he showed great powers of initiative and niiich personal cou-
rage. Like his coUeague, Lord Cromer, who speaks of him fully in his new
book, Sir Auckland Golvin described his own labours in a volunie styled The
Making of Modem Egypt,
Asquith.
Statesmen and Books.
Some years ago, not long after Mr. Gladstone's death, Lord Rosebery gave
a lecture on the love of books as shown by varions statesmen, and the
gênerai relations between men who read and men who act. Recently, the
[80J ANQL. 14
106 ENGLISH PART 1634
lecture lias becn rcprinted (wilhoiit Lord Rosebery's permission) by Tke
ISIorth American Reoiew. Portions of the article are of interest, though we,
for ouràclvcs, miist demur m toio to tlie apparent assnmption Ihat there is
any real antilhesis between the man of books and the man of politics. Lord
Rosebery (who will go down to posterily as a failiire in politics and a
weaver of attractive but not sound speeches) seems not to hâve estended his
historical researehes to the Renaissance period in Italy and elsewhere. If he
had, lie would hâve found that many statesmen berame such largely on
account of their scholarship and their literary achievements. It is sufficient
to menlion the names of Poggio, Machiavelli, and Guicciardini. Thus the
quotations that foUow niust be taken with several grains of sait.
Lord Rosebery refers in particular to Mr. Gladstone, " who rode the whirl-
wind and directed the storm of politics', " and yet was " bookish to an
extrême degree'", althoiigh he had not reached the superlative and morbid
form of bookishncss, when a man is called a " l)Ookworm - '.
The fresh breezes of a thousand active interests prevented such a development. But,
with encouragement and fostering circumstances, had he been nurtured in hterary
traditions, Uke his great rival, had his health been feeble, it is notdifûcult to imagine
him a book-worm, immersed iii foUos.
But as things were, he loved books as much as a man may without a suspicion of
bibUomania. As a matter of tact, he had none of what is technically called bibliomania ;
to flrst éditions, or broad margins, or vellum copies he was indiffèrent.
Had he been a very weaUhy man, even this form of the noble disease miglit bave
taken him. As it was, he loved collecting, buying, handling baoks. It was a joy to him
to arrange with his own hands the books in his library. It was a sport to him to hunt
down books in sale catalogues. It was a sacred trust to him to préserve the little
treasures of liis youth — a classic or two that lie had at Eton% the book given to him
by Hannah More \
No one could bave seen him reading in t!ie Temple of Peace, as he significantly
called his study% and bave deemed it possible for him to be happy in any otiier capac-
ity. Those who had witnessed Ihat sight must bave felt persuaded that, when he
relired from public life in 1815, nothing could ever draw him from his beloved retreat.
They might well bave anticipated that with old books, old friends, old trees, with a
hundred avenues of study to complète or explore, with a vast expérience of life and
affairs to discuss, with trees to eut and plant and worship — for he was a tree
worshipper as well — and, above ail, with the vital core and responsibility of a living
faith pervading him, he might well rest and be thankful.
It was his extraordinary energy, enthusiasm, and faith in great causes that were
the sait that prevented his stagnation into mère bookisbness. But he had another
safeguard still. It was his principle in reading to make his exports balance his
imports : he took in a great deal, but he put forth a great deal. His close study of a
book was pretty sure to précède an article on it.
Lord Rosebery concludes :
I believe that nowhere in bistory^ so far as l know, is there an instance of so
intensely bookish a man as Mr. Gladstone, who was at the same time so consummate
a man of affairs. 1 niean by bookisbness the gênerai love of books — readinj, buying,
handling, bunting them. The combination in his case is unique, and it will probably
remain so. Day by day the calls of public life become more and more exacting,
absorbing, imperious. Kach fresh development of them makes them more and more
unsuitable for the student and the recluse. Literature is constantly becoming less
and less necessary for the polilician. During the first half of the past century, a
classical quota tion was considered the indispensable ornament of a Parliamentary
speech.
Among great men of action, we recall Frederick's love of letters, and iNapoleon's
travelling library. Among statesmen, we tbink of Pitt's sofa, with its shelf of thumb-
ed ' classics; and of Fox, a far more ardent lover of books, exchanging them and his
1. Adapted from Joseph Addison. — 2. A man wholly absorbed in books : the insect
is in French lépisme. — 3. He was at Eton Collège. —4. The poetess. — 5. At Haward-
en Castle. — 6. We bave shown above Lord Rosebery's shallow knowledge of his-
tory. — 7. Much used.
[635]
ENGLISH PART
107
garden for the House of Gommons almost wilh tears ; and of Gladstones Temple of
Peace. Surely. even if it be not the best, it is the happiest way. There is net, perhaps,
toc much happiness in the life of any statesman. But no one who knew him could
think of Mr. Gladstone otherwise than as being happy, and one of the main sources
of his happiness was bis bookishness. Where, as in bis case, the mind absorbs and
uses the books, and the books do not cloud and embarrass the mind, the purpose of
the statesman and the éloquence of the orator gather force from books as a river
takes the hues and gathers up the springs of the l'egion it traverses.
There is no royal road to success in public life ; what suits one will not suit
another. But putting politics and success ont of the question, if a man wants to
develop his faculties to the utmost advantage, and to combine the greatest amount
of work with the greatest amount of happiness, he cannot do better than imitate the
melhods of sludy, the economy of time, and the regularity of life practised by the
illustrions Mr. Gladstone.
The Late Benjamin Waugh.
AU lovers ofchildren will regret to liear of the death in his 70lh year ot
Ihe Rev. Benjamin Waugh, promoter, organi.ser, and for long direclor of the
National Society for the Prévention of
Cruelty to Children (usuallv called the
N.S.P.C.G.)
He was edncatedat Airedale Collège,
Hradford. For some time he was in
business, i)iit in 1865 he entered the
Congregationalist ministry. He became
a memhcr of the first School Board '
for London (1870-1876), but before Ihat
period he had been engaged in promot-
ing the benevolent organisation with
which his name will be remembered.
He became ils director in 1889 and its
Consulting direclor in 1905, when he
was compelled to retire on account of
ill-health. The report of the society
foUowing that event had a short no-
tice entilled, The Champion of the
("hild, which read : "Owing to the
regrettable absence from England of
Mr. Waugh, through ill-health, the re-
port bas, for the first time in Ihè
history of the society, been penned by
another hand than that of him who
might well bave, as a personal description, the phrase selected for Ihe tille
of this report."
In the Sundoy Magazine, of which he was editor for some years, his con-
tribution, "Sunday Evenings wilh my Children, '" was an attractive feature. Il
was in May, ls81t, when Mr. Waugh secured the use of the Mansion House for
a meeting al which the National Society for the Prévention of Cruelty to
Children was launched. The society was actually started at the oftice of the
Sunday Magazine. It then removed to Harpur-street, and lafer to the fine block
of buildings in Leicester-square. The organisation bas now branches ail over
the country, and influential and titled people are membersofits committecs.
Benjamin Waugh.
1. Now the Education Committee of the London County Council.
108 ENGLISB PART [636]
This Society proseciites gross cases ofcruelty to children, and warns
those guilly of less serions offences.
Mr. Wangh was instrumental in passing Ihe so-called " Children's Charter '\
a slatnte against the starvation or ill-treatment of children. Mr. Waugh and
his Society inade it their business to see that this Act was not a dead-letter^.
The Society encountered much opposition, even in police and coroners' courts;
butit Iriumphed in the end, aided not a little by the interest ofQueen Victoria,
from whom it received a charter of incorporation. ïhis charter detined the
objects of Ihe society to be :
1. To prevent the pubhc and private wrongs of children aiul the corruption of
their morals.
2. To talie action for the enforcement of laws for their protection.
3. To provide and maintain an organisation for the above objects.
4. To do ail other siich lawful things as are incidental or condiicive to the attain-
ment of the above objects.
Overwork caused Mr. Waugh's health to break down, and this led to his
virtualretirement some time before his lamented death. He, the late Dr Bar-
nardo, and Sir John Kirk form a bright trio of benefactors of children.
2. A name, only.
The Seagulls' Home'.
The Island of Sark lifted a green bosom above her perpendicnlar cliffs^
with the pride of an affluent mother among her brood. Dowered ^ by sun and
softened by a délicate haze like an exqnisite veil of niodesty, this youngest
daughler of the isles clustered with her kinsfolk in the emerald archipelago •'
between the great seas.
The outlines of the coast grew plainer as the vessel drew nearer and near-
er, From end to end there was no harbonr upon this soiithern side. There
was no roadway, as it seemed, no pathway at ail up the overhanging clitfs,
ridges of granité and gray and green rock, belted with mist, crowned by sun,
and frelted with the milky, upcastingsnrf. Little islands, likeoutworks before
it, crouched slumberously to the sea, as adoglaysits head in ils paws, and
hugs '^ the ground close, with vague, soft, blinking » eyes.
By the shore the air was white with seagulls '■ flying and circling,
risingand descending, shooting up, straightinto tlicair, their bodies smoolh
and long, their feathering tails spread like a fan, their wings expanding on
the ambienf air. In the tall cliffs were the nests of dried seaweed, fastened to
the edge of a rock, the little ones within piping* to the little ones without ".
Every point ofrock had its sentinel gull, looking — lookingont to sea like
some watchful defender of a mystic cily. Piercing might be the cries ofpain
or joy from the earth, more piercing were their cries ; dark and dreadful
might be the woe of those who went down to the sea in ships, but they
.shrilled '^ on unheeding, their yellow beaks still yellowing in the sun,
keeping their everlasting watch and ward.
^'owand again other birds, dark, quick-winged, low-flying, shof in among
the white companies of seagulls, stretching their long necks, and turning
their swift, cowardly eyes hère and there, the cruel beak extended, the body
1. This is from a Jersey story by Sir Gilbert Parker, M. P. who lias also written on
the French in North America. — 2. Given a dowry by. — 3. The Channel Islands. —
4. Élreuit. — 5. Clignotant. — 6. Mouettes. — 7. Ambiant. — 8. Crying shrilly. —
9. Outside. — 10. ^fewed.
[637] BNGLISH PVRT 109
gorged " wilh carrion '^. Black niiiraiiders among blithe birds of peace and
joy, Ihey watched like sable '^ spirits near Ihe nests, or on some near sea
rocks, sombre and alone, blinking evilly at the tall bright cliffs and the
lighisome légions nestling there.
Thèse swari '^ loiterers by tbe happy nests of Uie young were like spirits of
fale who might not destroy, who had no power lo harm the li\ ing, yet who
conld not be driven forth — the ever présent death-heads at the feast, the
impassive acolyles by the allars ofdestiny.
As the vessel drew near the lofty, inviolalo cliffs, there opened up sombre
clefts and caverns, honey-combing '= the island at ai! points of the compass.
She slipped past rugged pinnacles, like bnttresses to the island, hère trailed
with vines, yondcr shrivelled and bare. Some rocks were like vast animais.
The heads of great dogs sprang ont in profile from the mainland ; farther
oflf, the face of a batlered sphinx slared with nnheeding eyes into the vast
sea and sky beyond.
The Baille of the Stronc/,
bv Sir Gilbert Parker.
11. Fiiled up to the throat. — 12. Charogne. — 13. Black, and therefore evil.
14. Dark. — 15. Cutting into.
Victor Hugo.
0 mystery, whencc to one man"s hand was given
Power upon ail things of the spirit, and might
Whereby the veil of ail the years was riven •
And naked stood the secret soiil of night !
0 marvel, hailed of eyes whence clond is driven,
That shows at last wrong reconciled with right
By death divine of evil and sin forgiven !
0 light of song, whose fire is perfect light !
No speech, no voice, no thouglit,
No love, avails us aught -
For service of thanksgiving in bis sight
Who hath given us ail for ever
Such gifts that man gave never
So many and great since tirst Time's wings took flight.
Man may not praise a spirit above
Man's : life and death shall praise him : we can only love '.
Life, everlasting while the worlds endure,
Death, self-abased beforc a power more high,
Shall bear one witness, and their word stand sure,
That not lill time be dead shall this man die.
Love like a bird, comes loyal to his hire ^ ;
Famé tlies before him, wingless else to fly.
A chikrs heart toward his kind is not more pure,
An eagle's toward the sim no lordlier eye.
Awc sweet as love and proud
As famé, though hushed and bowed.
1. Rent ; torn. — 2. Anylhing.— 3. Mr. Swinburne adored Victor Hugo, ttiese stan-
zas come from "A Sunset, November 23, 188S : To Victor Hugo".— 4. In theolddays
of hawking the bird was enticed back to its master.
110 ENGLISH PART [638
Yearns toward him silent as his face goes by :
AU crowns before his crown
Triumphantly bosv down,
For pride that onc more great than ail draws nigh :
Ail soûls applaud, ail liearts acclaim,
One heart benign, one seul suprême, one conquering name.
Algernox Charles Svvinburnf.
The Death of a Hero
yi
in front of Gaspar Garowicz's little Iiouse the yoiing men placed their
burden on the groiind. '^Oh! Michael, hâve a good sleep lo-day ", cried
some. "To-inorrow we celebrate yoiir return at the tavern ". " Oh! yes,
and you must tell us ". " The whole village will corne ", was the gêner-
ai cry.
The cripplc hobbled over the door-step into his brother-in-law's
hoiise, Outside Ihere still resoiinded shoiits : " Long live the hero ! " " Long
live Michael! " •' Long life to him ! " " May ail the saints protect him ! "'
Then there was once more silence.
" Are you hungry, Michael? " asked Katja. He shook his head. " No,
dear sister, realiy not. Only 1 am tired, oh! so dreadfully tired, "
" Had not he better go to sleep? " asked Gaspar dillidently.
Katja only nodded; she had suddenly become unusually sparing of
words. Then she led her brother in to the little room which he had for-
merly occupied.
" Oh ! hâve a good sleep hère ', said she, and went away quickly as
though she were afraid to be alone with him. It did not even enter her
mind that she might be at ail useful to him in undressing.
But he who iiad returned home was not in the least thinking about
undressing. Just as he stood, he threw himself, without taking olî his
wooden leg, upon the bed, bnried his face lirmly in the high feather-pil-
lows, which in honour of this day lay piled up upon the bed, and in
them he stifled the sobbing which went right through his body, "Mania",
he groaned, " Mania ! "
So passed a long, a very long time. Then Michael raised himself,
because he heard in the adjoining room the scolding voiceofhis sister.
" Oh! you are a fool, Gaspar", he heard, " By God's love, do you
hear, you are the biggest fool I know. An honour do you say? a fig for
the honour ! and is he, perhaps, going to help us to work in the fields,
1 ask you, you ass? Gan he perhaps do that, the cripple? And Mania what
do you thiiik of her? Oh ! she is a beauty, as I am a good Ghristian. And
old Leschko, oh! he is an old rascal! She hasjust told me that she will
not take such a monster as a gift, might the Mother of God préserve her
from that! And he has said that he will (ill no useless mouth. Do you
bear, you blockhead? And now we must feed the do-nothing, who may
* See the four other Parts.
[639] ENGLISH PART 111
still live a hunclred years. Why, I ask yoii. Nalurally 1 shall not let liim
starve, because he is my brother, and I am a good Christian and love God.
But that it is an honoiir, as you say, you ass, because he is a hero, that
is a — a pièce of siiliness, do you hear? Now get into bed ! "
Erect, stiff, and numb, Michael stood and listened. He was pale, quite
pale, but he did not stir a muscle of his face or move a limb. So he stood
and appeared to be waiting for something. A fuU hour passed, and he
did not move, as though he had been turned into stone. Then he suddenly
groaned : quite, (juite gently.
A door led from his room into the open air. Michael hobbled out through
this door.
The next morning they foiind the hero, whose breast the cross for
valour adorned, in the village pond.
{Conclusion. )
Friedrich Wernep. Yan Oestéren.
The Kaiser when a Child.
Would it be lèse-majesté to describe the small, fractious, and very
naughty liltle boy who was generally with the Princess Koyal, and who
is now the German Emperor? Well, if it be, 1 will take the risk. He was
a tiny, pretty, délicate little lad, and he utterly abhorred the Highland
dress in which he \vas clad on the spécial occasion for ^vhich he Avas
brought to England, and I lancy the cold wind stung his sinall knees :
anyhovv his conduct was awful. Somehow or other the dirk ' belonging
to his costume was not forthcoming, and he was lent one belonging to
his Uncle Leopold-. The tirst part of the cereniony he was pretty quiet.
It was discovered aflervvards that he had spent it in picking out the great
cairngorm ^ in the dirk handle and then casting it away, and I do not
think it was ever found : then he began to fidget* : his mother tried to
liold him, and at last handed him over to his two Uncles, Leopold and
Arthur % whose bare legs he bit, while they bore the pain like Stoics ^
I only hope they smacked him ' \vell when they got the little rufilan
back to theGastle^ "Willy", as his English relations called him, became
fond of Papa •'. His sister, little Princess Charlotte, used to sufter a good
deal at his hands, and 1 once gave him a smart tap on his naughty little
fmgers when he was pulling her hair. I often wonder if he ever remem-
bered that épisode! I at least am always glad to recoUect I once corrected
the all-powerful Emperor before whom the whole world trembles, it
seems to me, nowadays.
Leaves from a Life ' .
1. Dagger. — 2. The late Duke of Albany. — 3. A Scotch precious stone. — 4. liehave
restlessly. — 5. The Duke of Connaught. — 6. Bravely. — 7. Beat. — 8. Windsor. —
9. Mr. Frilh, whom Queen Victoria visited for professional purposes.
* By the daiighter of the aged painter, W.-i'. Frith.
112 ENGLISH PART [640]
The Hair of the Head,
Fi'om the earliest period the conlrol over the hair, man's one natural
ornament, has been duly appreciated. Prized and lenderly cared for, the
hair was once alinost held sacred ; to neglect it was a sign of self-abnega-
tion or of terrible sorrovv; tocutit otf was a mark of servitude, Amongst the
ancient Egyptians, a head of hair placed at the shrine of some deity
was no slight otîering, and the shaving of the head formed part of the
religions rites aniong both Egyptians and Phœnicians.
Later, among the Franks, men svvore by their locks as they now
svvear by their honour ; to eut a man's hair was to dégrade him. Debtors
unable to discharge their debts declared themselves slaves of their cred-
itors, by presenting a pair of shears', as ail bondmen ^ wore their heads
shaved, and, indeed, the tonsure of priests signilies that they are the
bondmen of Heaven.
As coiour and not form first strikes the uncultivated eye, man appears
to hâve dyed liis hair before he dressed it in any way ; thus, the Gauls
dyed their hair a brilliant red, while the Roman ladies were partial to
honey-coloured or amber hair, and at one time black hair was ail the
rage ^ Among the Franks in the lifth Gentury, it was fashionable for men
to tie their long hair together above the Ibrehead, leLling the ends flow
down their backs likea horse's tail. TheNormansin the eleventh Gentury
wore their Iront hair only a few inches long, stuck up like the crest of
a bird. The Normans before the Gonquest wore short hair, but were so
struck by the flowing ringlets of the Saxons, that for many years Ihey
adopted the fashion of the conquered race.
i. Ciseaux. — 2. A " boiind-man " ; slave. — 3. Fashion.
A Dog on three Legs.
Insurance and compensation cases are responsible for many puzzles.
Some time ago a valuable terrier was sent ont from England to India.
The animal was heavily insured. In a storm the poor l)east got so badly
damaged that one hind leg was rendered useless, and he had to hobble '
along on three. His owner, of course, claimed from the insurance Com-
pany. But by the insurance contract " walking at Galcutta " was deemed
to be " safe arrivai". The dog could walk, albeit- only on three legs ;
and the insurance people avowed that, therefore, there was no légal
claim upon them. What the judge was called upon to décide was: " Can
a dog be said lo walk on three legs?" Eventually he declared that itconid
not, but ail the same the plaintiff was only awarded a portion of the
large sum which he claimed as compensation .
1. Limp. — 2. Although.
Les Cinq Langues
N° 15.
5 Mai 1908.
8° Année.
ENGLISH PART
The late Duke of Devonshire.
It is diftioiilt for Frenchmen to realise ail that British polilical and social
life has lost by the death in his 7hlh year of Spencer Complon Cavendish, 8th
Duke of Devonshire. His father, the "th Duke, was a man of science, Second
Wrangler at Cambridge, and Cliancel-
lor of that University. The deceased
nobleman had no brilliancy ; but his
honesty, his straightforwardness, his
thoroughness, his power of examining
a question from ail points of view, his
untlinchiiig courage, his constancy to
principle, for which he several finies
abandoned the political associâtes of
inany years' standing, his enormous
wealtli, his territorial estâtes and in-
tliience — ail thèse caused him to
take the Duke of Wellington's place
as « The Duke ». As member of one
of the great Whig houses, a patron of
the Turf, the host of Royal ty, the
Duke was indeed a représentative En-
glishman.
Il must be remembered that as long
ago as 4859 lie appeared in pohtical
life ; for over thirly years he sat (as
Marquis of Hartington) in the House of
Gommons; he held high offices in Li-
béral, and, later, in Unionist Ministries ; twice, at least, he might hâve been
Prime Minister, and twice he left his party and saved his country from
Home Rnle, as brought forward bv Mr. Gladstone, and from Tariff Reform,
as proposed by Mr. Chamberlain. A pillar of the State has, indeed, been
removed.
Mrs. George Cornwallis-West continues in the April Century Magazine her
réminiscences as [,ady Randolph Churchill. There are some références to
the late Duke of Devonshire. Lady Randolph tells that in the Jnbilee year
(1887) she svent on a cruise with Mr. Chamberlain, hord Hartington, and
others. Mr. Chamberlain had left Mr. Gladstone and the Home Rule Party,
but was not prepared to join the Conservalives, " notwithstanding the over-
tures made to him bv Lord Salisbnry ". He was (Lady Randolph says) revolv-
ing at that time, in*^conjiinction with Lord Randolph, a scheme for a new
party which was to be called the National Party, and both were anxious that
i.ord Hartington should join it.
[86J ANGL. 15
The DuKK OF Devonshire.
114 ENGLISH PART [682]
The moment \va.s thonglit propitious, and it was settled that Mr. Chamber-
lain shoLild speak to Lord Hartington :
That afternoon, I was sitting on the deck with Lord Hartington, when Mr. Cham-
berlain joined us. Drawing up a chair, without prehminaries, and with bis usual
directness, he suddenly plunged into the matter. Lord Hartington, taken au dépourvu,
looked uncomfortable, and answered very sbortly. Mr. Chamberlain, full of bis
scheme, pressed the point home, taking no notice of the monosyllables he got in
answer. But after a time the frozen attitude of Lord Hartington began to take efTect,
and the conversation languisbed and died. I believe the subject was never reopened.
Lady Randolph adds that she has " alvvays thoiight that there existed a
gulf between Lord Hartington and Mr. Chamberlain that no political expe-
diency coiild really bridge. "
In private life, Lady Randolph says, no one was pleasanter or more easy to
get on with than the Duke. " His rather stern countenance belied a mirth-
loving soûl, and he thoronghly appreciated a joke ".
His carelessness about bis clothes has become proverbial among his friends, and
once, on his birtliday, his lady-friends, thinking that he needed a new bat, sent him
every conceivable sort of iieadgear, from the ceremonious top-hat to the flannel
cricketing-cap. My contribution, 1 remember, was a pot-hat. For hours they poured
in ; I believe he received over ûfty.
Sir Henry Woltï, Lord Randolph. and Lady Randolph were once staying at
Buxton, and wenl over as tourists to visit Chatsworth. When Lady Randolph
told Lord Hartington that she had been there and was much impressed by
the grandeur and beauty of the place, ail he said was : " Did you break
anything? '"
On Coronation Morning, August 9, 1902, the présent writer, standing in
Whitehall,discerned in a splendid blue state-coach going towards Westmins-
ter Abbey, the face and figure of the late Duke; and, much to his delight,
his loud shout, " There's Hartington ", was heard and acknowledged with a
firm stare by the Duke, who for so many years was known as the Marquis
of Hartington.
On another occasion from the top of an omnibus the writer saw the Duke
trying some horses in the court-yard of Devonshire Ilouse, that superb man-
sion with the great gâtes, that faces the Green Park.
In November, l'.>03, the writer heard the Duke make his déclaration of absol-
ute opposition to Fiscal or Tariff Reform. The speech was one of the strong-
est and most determined ever uttered bv the " Duke " whom ail mourn.
Books read by Children.
Some lime ago there appeared in Les Cinq Langues a list of novels and
stories in favour with British girls. The London Coimty Council, who hâve
charge of the public elementary scliools, allow books to be chosen from by
prize-winners. In 1907 were chosen the books given below.
The figures opposite the books indicate llie number of times they were
chosen :
Andersen's Fairy Taies 5,811
Grimm's Stories 4,227
Robinson Crusoe 2,403
Tom Brown'sSchoolDays. . . . 2,349
Litlle Women 2.151
Tanglewood Taies 2,0"i7
Water Babies 1,804
Alice in Wonderland 1,63 i
Old Curiosity Shop 1,515
Heroes (Kingsley) 1,484
John Halifax, Gentleman .... 1,481
David Copperfield 1,441
Taies from Shakespeare (Lamb). 1,423
Coral Island (Ballantyne) . . . . 1,409
Westward Ho ! 1,340
Ivanhoe 1,26&^
Pilgrim's Progress 1,244-
[683] EN6LISH PART 115
In 1905 the first four were Grimm's Siories, Uticle Tom's Cabin, Robinson
'Crusoe, and Andersen's Fairy Taies. The last-named book has had an
aslonishing increase of popularity, for in 1905 the demand for it was only
'^lalf thaï for Grimm's Stories, whilst it is now first.
Mcst of thèse works are lamiliar to our readers. and extracts from some
liave been given by us. The L. G. G. Education Commiltee has (in its wis-
dom) withdrawn Mrs. Beechcr Slowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin, together wilh
many so called " quile inferior books" ! Only two works by Dickens and
only one by Scott appear o'n our lisl, and Bunyan is at Ihe bottom.
.{Autres temps, autres goûts !)
The Oriental Mind.
Sir Alfred Lyall ' once said to me- : " Accuracy is abhorrent to the Orien-
tal mind. Every Anglo-Indian officiai should always remember that maxim. "'
Want of accuracy, which easily dégénérâtes into untruthfulness, is, in fact,
the main characteristic of the Oriental mind. The European is a close reas-
oner ; his statements of facts are devoid of ambiguity ; he is a natural logic-
ian, albeit ^ he may not hâve studied logic ; he loves symmelry in ail things ;
he is by nature sceptical and requires proof hefore he can accept the truth
of any proposition ; his trained intelligence works like a pièce of mechanism.
The mind of the Oriental, on the other hand, like his picturesque streets, is
eminently wanting in symmetry. His reasoning is of the most slipshod'*
description. Although the ancient Arabs acquired in a somewhat high degree
the science of dialectics, their descendants are singularly déficient in the
logical faculty. They are often incapable of drawing the most obvions con-
clusions from any simple premises of which they may accept the truth. En-
deavour to elicit a plain statemenl of facts from an ordinary Egyptian. His
explanation will generally be lengthy and wanting in lucidity. He will prob-
ably contradict himself half-a-dozen times before he has Hnished his story. He
will often break down under the mihlest process of cross-examination. The
Egyptian is also eminently unsceptical. He readily becomes the dupe ■■ of the
magician and the astrologer. Even highly educated Egyplians are prone to
refer the common occurrences oflifeto the intervention of some supernatural
agency. In political matters, as well as in the affairs of everyday life, the
Egyptian will, without inquiry, accept as true the most absurd rumours. He
will indeed do more than this. He will oflen accept or reject such rumours
in the inverse ratio of their probability, for, true to his natural inconsist-
ency and vvant of ralional discrimination, he will occasionally develop a
flash of hardy scepticism when he is asked to believe the truth.
Contrast again the lalkative European, bursling with superfluous energy.
active in mind, inquisitive about everything he sees and hears, chafing«
under delay, and impatient of suQ'ering, with the grave and silent Eastern.
devoid of energy and initiative, stagnant in mind, wanting in curiosity about
matters which are new to him, careless of waste of time and patient under
suffering. Or, again, look at the fulsome flattery which the Oriental will offer
to his superior and expect to receive from his inferior, and compare the
gênerai approval of such practices with the European frame of mind, which
spurns ■* l3oth the flatterer and the person who invites flattery. This con-
temptible flattery, " the nurse of crime ", as it was called by the poet Gay s
is, indeed, a thorn in the side of ^ the Englishman in Egypt, for it prevents
1. A great Anglo-Indian administra tor. — 2. LordCromer. — 3. Although. — 4-
Inaccurate, untidy. — o. Victinti. — G. Kebelling against. — 1. Despises. — 8. John
•Gay, author of The Beggars' Opéra. — 9. A difficulty to.
116 ENGLISH PART [684]
Khédives and Pashas tVom hearing the truth IVom their own countrymen.
Perhaps there is no point as to which the différence between Eastern and
Western habits of thoiight corne ont into stronger relief than in the views
which are respectively enlertaioed by the Oriental and the European as
regards provision for the future in this world. The European, especially if he
be a Frenchman, is usually economical, and his economy will not unfre-
quently degenerate into meanness. He will pause before he will give pledges
which, whilst providing for his immédiate wants, may embarrass him or
even reduce hini to penury at no distant date. He will usually make provision
for his old âge, for the wife who may, and for the children who proba-
bly will survive him. The Egyptian generally cares for noue of thèse things.
Hetakes little heed for the morrow which will dawn on himself, and none for
the days which are in store for those whom he will leave behind him. He is,
perhaps, unconsciously influenced by the frame of mind engendered in him-
self and his progenitors from having lived for centuries under a succession of
Governnients, which afï'orded no security to the rights of property. Whether
he occupies the palace or the mud but, he will often pledge '" his future with
scarcely a thought of how his pledges may be redeemed. His life is in the
past and in the présent. The morrow must take care of the things of itself.
But thèse same habits of improvidence tend perhaps to develop a quality
which is worthy of praise. The Oriental may often be blamod for prodigality,
but he rarely incurs the charge of meanness. He is charitable to his neigh-
bours; moreover, the Oriental is proverbially hospitable. Indeed, his hospita-
lity often errs on the side of being too lavish,
Passing on to the considération of another ditferencc between the Oriental
and thcEuropean, which will prove a perpétuai stumbling-block to the English-
man in Egypt, it is to be observed that the ways of the Oriental are tor-
tuous " ; his love of intrigue is inveterate : centuries of despotic governnient,
during which his race bas beenoxposed to the unbridled *•' violence of cajiri-
cious and headstrong governors, hâve led him to fall back on the natural
defence of the weak against the strong. He reposes unlimited faith in his own
cunning, and to some extent his chosen wcapon will stand him in good stead.
But its employment will widen the breach between him and his protectors,
for fate bas willed that the Egyptians should be more especially associated
with those members of the European family who, perhaps more than any
others, loatheand despise intrigue ; who, in their dealings with their fellow-
men, are frank and blunt, even at times to brutality ; and who, though not
difficult to beguilc, are apt unexpectedly to lurn round and smite '^ those
who hâve beguiled them so hardly as to crush them to the dust. From this
point of view, one of the more subtle Latin races, had it occupied the pré-
dominant position hcld by the English in Egypt, would probably bave had
more sympathy with the weaknesses of the Egyptian character than the
Anglo-Saxon '\
The Earl of Cromer.
{Modem Egypt.)
iù. Pawn ; inortgage. — 11. Twisting — 12. Uncontrolled. — 13.Strike. — 14. This-
perspicuous epitome of the Oriental mind is a good example of the many fine passa-
ges in Lord Gromer's excellent book.
The Sun'.
But afar on the headland exalted.
But beyond in the curl of the bay,
From the depth of his dôme deep-vaulted
1. From the poem on the East Anglian town, Dunwich.
[685] ENGLISH PART ll7
Our l'ather is lord of Ihe day-.
Our faLher and lord that we follow,
For deathless and ageless is he ;
And lus robe is the whole sky's hollow,
Ilis sandal the sea,
Where the horn ^ of the headland is sharper,
And her green floor glitlers with tire,
The sea has the sun for a harper ^,
The Sun has the sea for a lyre.
The waves are a pavement of amber,
By thefeet of the sea-winds trod,
To receive in a gods presence-chamber
Oiir father, the God.
Time haggard ° and changefal and hoary,
Is m aster and God of the land :
But the air is fulfilled of the glory
That is shed from our lord's righthand.
0 father of ail of us ever,
Ali glory he only fo thee
From heaven, that is void ^ of thee never,
And earth, and the sea.
0 Sun, whereof ail is beholden,
Behold now the shadow of this death,
This place of the sepulchres, olden
And emplied and vain as a breath,
The bloom of the bountiful heather
Laughs broadly beyond in Ihy llght
As dawn, with her glories to gather,
At darkness and night.
The hills and the sands and the beaches,
The waters adrift and alar,
The banks and the creeks and the reaches',
How glad of thee ail of thèse are !
The flowers, overflowing, overcrowded,
Are drunk with the raad wind's mirth :
The delight of thy coming unclouded
Makes music on earth.
I, last least voice of her voices,
Give thanks that were mute in me long
To the soûl in my soûl that rejoices
For the song that is over my song.
Time gives what he gains for the giving
Or takes for his tribute of me,
My dreams to the wind everliving,
My song to the sea *.
Algernon Charles Swi.nburne.
2. The Sun. — 3. Point. — 4. Playeron a harp. — 5. Hagard. — 6. Empty. — 7.
Portions of rivers. — 8. The sea has been the subject of much of Mr. Swinburne's
finest verse.
118 ENGLISH PART |686]
The Cushion of the Countess Confalonieri
The Countess Teresa Casati Confalonieri had corne to Yienna to obtain
pardon for lier husband '. On the fatal day of the JLidgment, at midnight,
the Courier had set out withthe death sentence. The good Einpress sent a
Chamberlain to the Countess to convey wilh dignitîed silence her angelic
Sovereign's grief at not having been able to save his life. Teresa Confalo-
nieri. in spite of the lateness of the hour, flew in a carriage to the palace,
and the Empress, who had already retired, coiild not refuse to receive
her. She cried, she cried, and her agony was so irrésistible, that the Em-
press, ail dishevelled, hastened to her Consort's apartments, and after
some time (what a century of suffering it must hâve been for Teresa !)
came back Avith the gift of his life.
Quick ! quick ! they must rejoin the courier, must pass him — lie was
bearing the sentence of death.
Teresa threw herself into a carriage, and without ever resting, paying
the postulions four or six times their dues, and taking a little liquid for
ail her food, she reached Milan in time, and Federico escaped from the
scatfold.
During the journey she had rested her head on a cushion which she
soaked with tears : tears now of mortal anxiely oi' not arriving in time,
now of hope, now of conjugal love.
This confidant of the mostsolemn, the most tragic moment in the life
of the married pair, was consigned to Federico's judges, who had con-
demned him to death ; they religiously sent it to the saved husband.
It went with him to the prison of Spielberg. There, stripped of ail his
clothes, chained, lying on stra\v,deprived of ail theconveniences of life,
lie never parted from his little cushion.
PlERO Maro.ncelli -.
' See the four other Parts. — 1. Federico Confalonieri, who had been condemned
by Austria for being a raember of the revolutionary society of the Carbonari. — 2.
Âcompanion of Silvio Pelhco and of Confalonieri in the prison of Spielberg. The
pièce is taken from the Aldithns to Mie Piigioni.
A Nonagenarian Teacher
In a few minutes the dooropened, and Manuel Garcia entered. With a
génial smile and an exclamation of pleasure he came rapidly across the
room, taking short, quick steps, and was shaking hands with his old pupil-
almost before she had time to rise from her seat. The next quarter of an
hour passed swiftly enough. A stream of questions fell from the lips of
the wonderful old nonagenarian as to what she had beendoing,where she
had been, what were her latest songs, what she thought of the pianist
who had recently corne out 3, what of the poUtical situation, when she
would come to lunch — and so on. He was short of stature, a little bent
with âge, frail-looking perhaps, but wiry. His eyes were bright and
1. This occurred some years Itefore Garcia's death.— 2. Madame Antoinette Sterling,
the mother of the writer. — 3. Débuter.
[6871 ENGLiSH PART 119
piercing, his profile clear-cut and distinguished. He had an olive com-
plexion, a gift of his native Spain, which fifty years of London fog had
been unable to take from him. His white hair was partially covered by
a red skull-cap % and his moustache was closely eut. He spoke in rapid
tones, yet Avith absolute distinctness of clear eiuinciation. Every word
gave proof of that keen interest which he felt in ail that was going on
around him. In expression, voice, and gesture there was an amazing
alertness, vigour, and mental activity which few men of seventy could
equal, lewer still surpass. His conversation gave évidence of the tire of
youth, tempered with the tolérance ol old âge. A more intimate acquain-
tance with the great teacher revealed further qualities which made him
loved, nay, worshipped by ail his pupils. Loyal and staunch, he had an
old-world courtesy, a charm of manner, aiid a patience which was quite
remarkable.
M. Sterling Mackinlay.
[Garcia Ihe Centenarian.)
4. Tight-fitting cap.
In the Far North.
I
Two men from Alaska took a boat and went off to an island to get
birds'eggs. While they were ouf, an awful storm came up. It was going to
be great luck - if the boat lived at ail in such a sea. She was driven north
first. Neither of the men knew where they had got to, but any kind of
land was a good sight. They werealmostas glad to get near it as they were
toget away from it. Horrible steep clitfs came sheer ^ down to the shore.
Boulders piled helter-skelter *. They could not see much through the dim-
ness of the sleet and the dazzle of the spray ; still, they saw enough to
knowit was not the harbour they were hoping for. Things had been bad
enough in the open sea, but hère they were driven straight on the rocks.
The wind hurled the water at them, not in spray, but in masses — mas-
ses that never broke, till they struck the men or the boat — except when
the wind veered, and then the water masses were tlung clean up on the
clitfs. They would never hâve got ont of that boiling cauldron "" if the
wind had not changed, and kept afloat for several hours only to be
wrecked after ail, a mile or two beyond an ugly-looking cape.
One of the men was washed out of the boat, the other tlung ashore un-
conscious. On comiug to himself after some time, he went down the
beach, and the tirst thing he saw was his friend lying on the sand, in a
tangle ^ of sea-weed, his face hidden. The other man called him several
limes, then shook him. But the friend never stirred — he was dead.
Above the line of sea-weed and driftwood, the surf had flung his rifle —
the butt rather battered, but nothing a handy man ^ could not put right ;
only a rifle is not much good without cartridges. By and by, the live
man dug a grave for the dead one above the tide line in the sand ; and
1. On the sea. — 2. It would be fortunate. — 3. Like a wall. — 4. Pêle-mêle; any-
how. — 5. Chaudron. — 6. A mass difficult to unravel. — 7. One fit to do anything;
a term often applied to British sailors.
120 ENGLISH PART [688]
when he had buried the body, he sat down and wondered hovv long it
would be before the end would corne for himself.
While he sat there thigering his rifle, a couple of natives came down
the coast. Thèse were tvvo Esquimaux, quite good feilows. They must
hâve seen white men and firearms before, for they took a deep interest
in the rifle. The castaway ^ made them understand he was hungry. They
nodded and pointed back the way they had come. Well, they went along
the beach, till they came to a place so rocky it drove them up to the
edge of the tundra, or plain ; and up there the white man saw, across the
plain to the north, a low Une of hills streaked with snow. And there
was one bare peak with a curious-shaped top that stood ont very plain.
There was a river flowing down from the hills through the tundra to the
sea, and ail the mouth of it was choked with driftwood, though there
was not a tree in sight. Beyond the driftwood, a long sandspit " ran out
into the sea, and spread itself right and left, parallel to the coast, and on
this sandspit were a lot '" of little driftwood buts, skin-boats drawn up,
and people in fur standing round a lire.
The two Esquimaux took the white man across in a boat, and told
the other Esquimaux about him. And they gave him some food-fish.
Everybody took so much interest in his rifle that he had to sit on it.
They talked a good deal, but the white man did not know what it was
ail about. So he ate and slept, always with his rifle under his arm. ^Yheu
he got tired of eating and sleeping, the castaway sat and looked at the
sea. Never a sail. And sometimes he would turn and look at the queer "
peak over the tundra. He gathered that thèse people did not live hère
on this sandspit : they were only camping, a kind of Esquimaux summer
resort '-. They knew nothing about any white settlement. Thenhe would
show them, he said. Let them bring down fheir best boat, and he would
give his gun to them if they would take him off there to the south-east.
They shook their heads and bustled '^ away.
The white man saw with horror signsof a beginning to break up the
camp. By pantomime he found they were going on up the coast by the
sea. They seemed quite ready to take the castaway and his rifle with
them. But to go up yonder with them to their underground winter-home
seemed to the castaway almost as horrible as being left behind. He felt
whatever happened, he ought to go over the tundra to that queer hiil and
take a look at the situation from the top ; he had got it into his head that
if he could only reach the top of that glacier-carved height, ail his troub-
les would be at an end. But in spite of his feverish state he had the
sensé to guard against the natives going ofîin his absence. He got one of
the boys to go with him. It was not easy walking, in tact it was jumping
from one moss knoU '^ to another, or wading to the knees in the spongy
hollow.
[To he conliiiued.)
Abridged from Euz.\beth Robins *.
8. Xanfragé. — 9. Projecting pièce of sand. — 10. Niimber. — 11. Ciirious. — 12.
Suchas Brightonor Trouville. — 13. Hurried. — 14. Tertre.
* This is abridged from one of the North Pôle stories of this talented lady, who is
also a " feminist ", a dramatist. and an actress well known for her performances in
Ibsen plays.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 16. 20 Mai i9C8. 8« Année.
ENGLISH PART
The Way of the World.
Changes in High Places.
The résignation of Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman vvas tbllowed only toc
soon by a fatal termination to his illness. The tributes evoked by his death
were louder and warmer tban his political opponents had imagined, and not
the least was that paid by M . Clemenceau. At the funeral service iu Westmins-
ter Abbey, the Prince of Wales (on behalf of their Majesties) and M. Clemen-
ceau alone deposited their wreaths upon Ihe coftin, and the tricolour was
observed, with grateful sympathy, by the thousands in the crowded streets.
By the reconstruction of the Libéral Ministry under Mr. Asqiiith, Mr. Wins-
ton Churchill obtained a post in the Cabinet, and had to seek re-eleclion. His
defeat at Manchester is a serions blow to Free Trade, and an encouragement
to supporters of a Conservative reaction. But he has been returned for
Dnndee.
Much astonishment was occasioned by the acceptance of a Peerage by
Mr. John Morley as Viscount Morley of Blackburn. The disciple of John Stuart
Mil), the biographer of Voltaire, Rousseau, Diderot, Turgot and the rest, the
protagonist of Liberalism in politics and in thonght, " Honest John ", the
coiner of the phrase " Mend'cm or end'em ", lias at length entered that House
of Lords. He is now turned 70, and fcels not strong enoiigh to remain in the
House of Commons and at the India Office. But this' — together with the
death of the ex-Premier — has given the coup de grâce to the crusade against
the House of Lords, who will be further encouraged to reject Libéral meas-
ures.
Austrian military Bands.
The military bands which play at the Stadt* Park and Volksgarten - are
from the régiments which are stationed in Vienna, and number about forty-
five or tlfty men. In the winter months they play with stringed instruments,
like an ordinary orchestra, with tirst and second violins, violas, contrabasses,
etc., a kettledrum ^ but no big drum. It is notât ail like the string-band of an
English military band, which consists of two or three violins, and the rest,
flûtes, clarinets, hautboys^ etc. There can be no doubt that the manner in
1. Town. —2. People's Garden. — 3. Cymbale. — 4. Oboes.
[92] âNOL. 16
122 ENGLISH PART [730]
which the string-band of an Ai>slrian régiment is composée! is altogother more
eftective than onr arrangement, which is neither one thing nor the other,
neither a string-band nor a brass-band. Austria, it is true, is much more
musical than \ve as a nation, and the conductors of the military bands at
Viennaare mostly well-known composers. Certainly they earn very much
more money in Austria than they do in England. An Auslrian bandmaster
in Yienna earns aJtout four thousand florins a year, or three hundred and
fifty pounds. In Austria every régiment has a brass-band and also a string-
band, the lalter playing indoors in winter, and the former playing on parade
and when marching out, and at concerts out of doors in summer,
The Austrian military brass-band is unrivalledin Europe. It is far superior
to the German military band ; and it is needless to speak of those of other
nations, which are mostly inferior to the German military band. The Aus-
trian military brass-band has always two nien playing the cymbals, and the
big drum ° is usually carried by a pony in marching out, but the big drum
does not play the prominent part it does with us; in Austria one hears the
cymbals above everythin^ else, and not the big drum, as is always the case
in England. Each company in marching has a man who beats the side drum,
or blows a bugle in rifle régiments, when the band stops playing, in order
to mark the steps, and he marches at the side of the company. I flnd this
arrangement a vasl improvement upon ours, for with us the big drum is too
important an instrument by far. Our Artillery s tring-band, which plays
at Woolwich during mess, I hâve often heard, an d it certainly is the best we
possess ; but yet it has not such good solo players as one hears in an
Austrian military string-band in Vienna.
Society Recollections m Paris and Vienna.
0. Grosse caisse.
French as the Unîversal Language.
There was a very intercsting article by a Russian, M. J. Novicow, in the Revue
des Deux-Mondes Sor December 1, on the probabilities of Erench becoming
the univcrsal language of the world, or, as he puts it, the auxiliary language
of European civilisation. Erenchmen Ihcmselves disbelieve in this probabil-
ity, as M. Novicow acknowledges, and he ascribes this disbelief to the pessi-
niism induced by the defeats of 1870 and to the théories of Madame de Staël
and Gobineau. Consequently the French hâve favoured the claims of an arti-
ficial language and, in fact, hâve preferred Espéranto, with its Teutonic basis,
to Univcrsal, founded entircly on French.
As civilisation extends, so does the need for intercommunication. Many
hâve thought Ihat national pridc and jealousy would prevent any existing
language from becoming univcrsal, and so they hâve turned to invenling
artihcial ones. But M. Novicow shows, by many well chosen examples, that
national pride counts for nolhing when pleasure or interesl is concerned. A
language becomes univcrsal notby a concordat', but naturally and insensibly;
French is spoken in Bohemia, Poland, Russia, Roumania, Bulgaria, Portugal,
Spain, and Italy by ail educated people who know any language but their
own. But, whereas national pridc is weak, being spread over such a wide
surface, individual pride is strong; and not evei-y one will accept Dr. Zamen-
hof's language as perfect, considering other urtificial tongues superior or
thinking it possible to construct a better. As to being easier to learn, M. No-
vicow asserts this to be a fallacy, and, in order to find Espéranto easy, it
1. A flxed agreement.
[731] ENGLISH PART 123
would be nece-ssary lo know the languages from which it is formed — Eng-
lish, German, Riissian, Lalin, and Greek. Learning an artiticial languageas
far as culture goes is a mère waste of time, as it lias no literature to repay
the effort; and it is impossible to be éloquent in a language that bas no mas-
ters of éloquence and that is of necessity ugly — hybrid compromises in
which no national gcnius résides. The utmost success thèse languages can
altain is to become of commercial use — much in the same way as an inter-
national télégraphie code. Besides, natural laws make a favoured longue the
auxiliary language in certain régions, as Tuscan in Ilaly, Saxon in Germany,
Greek in the Byzantine Empire, and so French in Europe.
Especially will French follow the example of Tuscan, which bas become
the second tongue of ail the States of Italy, for in each province every one
speaks bis own local dialect — Piedmontese, Xeapolitan, Milanese, Venetian.
And yet never bas Tuscany colonised the rest of Italy; never bas it been the
most populous nor the most important state politically; and yet, by ils cen-
tral geographical position, the artislic and scientitic pre-eminence ofits inha-
bitants, it bas prevailed over other dialects which are spoken by a larger
nuraber of people. The only likely rivais of French are German and English.
German basa central position and is not lacking- in culture, but it isdinicult
to learn, and would bave against it the Anglo-Saxons (140,000,000), the Latins
(173,000,000), and the Slavs (140.000.000). Even the inventor of Universal,
Dr. H. Molenaar, a German himself, preferred a French basis for bis language
to a German one. As to English, allbough it is spoken by more people, —
who being commercial people, compel other traders to know something of
their language — yet M. Novicow argues that Slavs, Latins, and even Ger-
mans, hâve a greater leaning towards French than towards English. And as
the English bave more leaning towards French than towards German, in the
proportion of 25 lo 1, it follows that French, having fewest opponents, will
be chosen as the second language by most nations, if only the French tbem-
selves do not prevent this by urging the claims of artiticial languages which
bave no chance of life.
DE V. Payen-Payne.
[The Journal of Education.)
2. Wantins.
Endymion.
"■ 0 myslic Brilliance', why hast thou disturbed
My simple youtli that was so pleased to breathe ?
Till now I was content "twixt grass and cloud ;
To be alive I deemed- a lavish^ gift,
And ripen slowly under falling beams.
To me it was enough to hear the shower,
And the low laughter lilown from the bright sea.
To me lill now it hatli sufficed to watch
The summer quivering over holy bloom,
Or August apple wooed by orchard grass,
Or stripped Uecember waving mournfully
Her bared arms to the cloud. This was the world
To me ; but now what melancholy sweet
Steals over me, what magical distress,
Distant delicious trouble and new pain !
1. Selene, the mooii. — i. Considered. — 3. Prodigue.
12'lr ENGLISH PART [732J
Ah ! Ah I whal hast Lhoii done ? for I begin
To giieve for ancient wars, and atthe thought
Of women Ihat hâve died long, long ago,
Forsea-tossedheroeslal)Ouringtoward IheWesl^.
Ah ! Ah ! what hast thon done ? for I am thrilled^
With périls in Iho enchanted dawn of Time,
And I begin lo sorrow forstrange things
And to be sad with men long-dead ; 0 now
I suffer with old legends, and I pi ne
At long sea-glances for a single sail.
Yet hâve I deeper pleasure than ever yel ;
What now I foel, I would not now forgo ;
This folding doser and Ihis drawing iip
To the still Soiil which halh imagined us.
Listen ! the sea is on the verge of speech,
The breezehath somethingprivate for me :Night
\N'oiild lead me, like a créature dumb, with signs.
And though I grieve with ail, with ail I live.
Stephen Phillips *.
4. Towards the Hesperides. — 5. Siirred with pain.
• The reader should compare this with tlie far-^reater poem by Keats.
Gœthe *.
I
What distiriguishes Gœtlie l'or French and English readers, is a property
which he shares with his nation — an habituai référence to interior
truth. In England and in America, there is a respect for talent; and, if
it is exerted in support ofany ascertained or intelligible interest or party,
or in regular opposition to any, the public is satisfied. In France, there
is even a greater delight in intellectual brilliancy, for its own sake. And,
in al! thèse countries, men of talent write from talent. It is enough if the
understanding i.s occupied, the taste propitiated — so many columns,
so many hours, filled in a livelyand creditable vvay. TheGerman intellect
wantstlie French sprightiiness, the fine practical understanding of the En-
glish, and the American adventure; but it bas a certain probity, which
never rests in a superlicial performance, but asks steadily, To
what end? A German public asks for a controlling sincerity. Hère is
activity of thought; but what is it for? What does the man mean ?
Whence, wlience ail thèse thoughts?
Talent alone cannot make a writer. There must be a man behind the
book ; a personalityvvhich, by birth and quality, is pledged to the doc-
trines there set forth, and which exists to see and state things so, and
not otherwise, holding things because they are things. If he cannot
rightiy express himself to-day, the same things subsist, and will open
themselves to-morrow. There lies the l)urden on his mind — the burden
of truth to be declared — more or less underslood; and it constitutes
* See the four othcr Parts.
[733^
ENGLISH PART
125
his business and callinii in the world, to see Ihose facts Ihroiigh, and to
make theni known. Wliat signifies that lie trips and stammers; that his
voice is harsh or hissing; that his method or his tropes are inadéquate ?
That message will find method and imagery, articulation and melody.
Though he were dumb, it would speak. If not — if there be no such
God's Word in the man — what care we liow adroit, hovv fluent, how
brilliant he is ?
[To be continued.) Emerson.
Mont Orgueil Gastle.
Mont Orgueil Castle, hitherto the property of the Crown, has been pre-
sented to the island of Jersey. This historié ruin, more familiarly known
Mont Orgueil Gastle.
in Jersey as Govey Gastle, isat thesummitofa steep headland on thesouth
sida of the island close to Govey Pier, a little fishing and seaside village,
and a favourite resort of visitors. It is six miles from St. Helier. and can
be reached by a sort of railroad, known as the Jersey Eastern Railway, or,
more enjoyably, by the road, which winds through verdant pastures,
heavily laden orchards, and scented miles of flowers.
The Castle, which is now little more than a grey ruin, was buiit by the
Normans, held by them for a period, and afterwards used by the islanders
126 ENGLISH PART [734]
as a defeiice against them. Its lof'ty porch commands grand views across
Granville Bay and the Minquiers, towards the coast of Normandy. Ât one
time it was garrisoned by the Jersey Militia, but now its sole office is to
serve as a coastgiiard • observatory, and its loftiest tower is patrolled dnring
the day by the solitary coastguard in charge.
Its minor attractions are St. George's Ghapel and the Roman Well ; its
chief the diingeons vvhere William Prynne, the Puritan, is said to hâve
been conlined. One of thèse dungeons, in which the guide informs the
visitor Prynne spent the greater partofhis imprisonment, is not large
enough for a man to lie at full length or stand upright. No historié record
of Prynne's imprisonment refers to his incarcération at Mont Orgueil.
1. Garde-côte.
In the Far North.
They soon lost sight of the sandspit. Even the sea had disappearerl.
To right and left, as lar as you could see, nothing but tundra, afew pools
shining in the hollovvs, and acres of sedges *^ andmoss, and low-growing
scrub 16 wilJow. Suddenly thewhite man pointed to the south-west. The
native stared. The light plays one queer tricks on the tundra. Lakes and
ships are often seen, which are not there. But Ihis did not look like a
mirage — it wastoo simple, toodistinct. Jusf' twosticks stuck in the tundra.
They might be one mile away, they might be ten ; but there those sticks
stood as clear against the sky as a couple of bean pôles on a prairie
farm. The white man decided it must be some driftwood contrivance of
the natives. Only Ihe remarkable thing was, he had not noticed it before.
Well, he feit he would know more about those sticks when he got to the
top of the hill. So they went on ; but Ihe hill was a good way olf. The
little white patches turnedout to be vast (ields of rotten snow.
The native jabbered **, and seemed to be pointingout that it was better
to go a long way round. There was less snow, and not so much broken
rock, tumbled down from the peak. And the peak wasn't a peak. It was
more like a giant anvil '^ So like, that it was almost uncanny -^ to think
nature could hâve carved a stone with such whimsical -' exactness.
" Just wait till 1 get up there ", he said again, half laughing to hiniself ;
" see if I don't hammer ont something 1 " and he jumped across a wator
hole to a higher knoll, and saw that the ground on the other side fell
gently down to a shallow valley. And the valley held a little streain in its
lap.
The white man realized, when he saw that, how thirsty he was. He
hadn't dared drink ont of the standing pools on the tundra, and he went
as fast as he could away from the anvil, and down the slope to the
running water. He saw adash of something white on the edge of the bank,
as he hurried down the creek ", and he knew that it was a little heap of
15. Laiche. — 16. Low-growing as is usual willi Arctic trees. — 17. Only. — 18.
Spoke excitedly. — id. Enclume. — 20. Giiostly. — 21. Strange; l'anciful. — 22. Small
slream.
[735] BNGLISH PART li7
wealher- bleached '" boues tliatslione so, olî Ihere in the grass. But lie
never stoppée! till he stood by the bed of thestream. He took iipthe water
in his doubled hands and drank. It was good water, and he had never
been so tliirsty before in his life. But the water spilled away through his
lîngers, and he i'ell he should never get enough. So lie balanced hiniselT
over some stones, and he lay on his stomach, and reached his lips to the
clear stream,
He drank and drank, with his half-shut eyes tixed on a spark of mica,
that caught the light and was shining like a diamond under the water.
No ! it was not mica ; he saw it plainer now. He leaned a Httle further,
and picked the bit of pyrites out of the wet gravel. The Esquimaux boy
saw the white man stand up suddenly as if he had been stung. But he
held on to the thing he had taken into his palm, and he lifted his hand
several times, and he turned the thing over and over, weighing it. One
place in the stiined, brassy-looking thing had been scratched, and every
time the light caught that new abrasion, it glinted ^^ The ^Yhite man
took out his knil'e and eut the substance. // was gold !
" Any more stuff like this about?" the white man asked. The native
looked at the nugget, and shrugged -■' indifferently. The white man dug
about in the gravel with his hands and a sharp stone, and then he sat
down and thought, with his eyes on the place where the nugget ^e had
been. The Escjuimaux boy got out his bird-dart, and went otl a little way
after a jack-snipe2\ The white man knew he ought to make a miners
assay-'. If he had had a round pan, he would hâve put some sand and
gravel in it, and he would till the pan to the brim with water, and ^^ash
the sand and gravel round and round, picking out ail the stones, and
letting off the water little by little, with a circular motion. And ail the
lighter sand and stuiï would get washed out; and by and by, if the
miner knows his business, any gold that may hâve been in that sand,
every particle is left behind in the bottom of the pan.
But he had no pan; he had not even a shovel ; he had nothing. How
was he to lind out if there was any more of that stutf there? Had this
one nugget by any chance been dropped? No! that was absurd. But he
looked up the bank where the bones shone, and out of the coarse grass
a skull grinned at him. Not a wolfs skull, or a deer's ; a human being's —
a white man's perhaps. Had the nugget belonged to him? Had he brought
it from some valley far away, and lost his bit of gold as well as his life
hère under the shadow of the great stone anvil ? The graver the man got
down there by the water, the broader the one on the bank seemed to
grin. Suddenly the living man got up, and ran towards that heap of stones
as if he couldn't rest till he found out what the joke'^^ was the dead man
was laughing at. He picked up the skull, and saw by the teeth that
it was a white man's. The teeth were splendid, good as any savage's, ail
but one — one was filled ^o. when he saw that, the castaway knew that
probably this white man had dropped that nugget in the creek, or it had
been washed down there after the wolves had torn the dead man's clothes.
The live man got two stones and opened his big clasp knife, and went
23. Blanchis. — 24. Shone. — 23. Haussa les épaules. — 26. Pièce of minerai con-
taining gold. — 21. Bécassine. — 28. Essai. — 29. Jest; plaisanterie. — 30. " Stop-
ped " ; plombée.
1"28 KN6LISH PART |736]
at that skull with might and main, sawing and hammering it like one
possessed.
By the lime the Esquimaux got back wilh the jack-snipe, the white
man had hammered away everything from ihe skull except the round
basin of the cranium. The Esquimaux boy was horritied, and made signs
of disapproval. The man took the bone bowl to the bank ; he hlled it
full, and three times he " panned " the gravel of that ereek ; and even/
lime he got gold! When he saw colours the third time he just poured the
stufll' wet into his handkerchief, and told the Esquimaux boy he was
ready to go.
He kept looking round in every direction, to see if there was the least
traiP' leading anywhere, or the smallest human sign. Only those bones
shining so white there on the bank ! The castaway went on, till he looked
straight up and saw^ olî there against the blue, that great anvil plainer
than ever. " I won't give up going to the top ", he cried out loud. It
was a crazy''- thing to do, but he did it: and when he got to the top. lie
saw somelhing he would not hâve seen in time, if he had not climbed
the Anvil Rock. He saw oIT there tothe soutJi the coast where he had been
wTBcked, and the sandspit the Esquimaux were niaking ready to leave,
and beyond that against the horizon — icliat ivas tliat^ He nearly fell otî
the rock, for a two-masted schooner was lying a couple of miles olï the
shore. Tvvo masts ! It tlashed over him those were the two pôles he had
seen sticking up above the tundra, several hours before. Well, he got
down off that rock double-quick^^ and he nearly killed himself tearing
back to the coast, and signal ling the ship. He was only just in time — they
were weighing anchor -^ !
{Conclusion.) Abridged from Elizabeth Robins*.
31. Path showii by foot-steps. — 32. Mad. — 33. As fast as possible. — 34. Lever
l'ancre.
* This is abridged from one of the North Pôle stories of this talented lady, who is
also a " feminist ", a dramatist, and an actress well known for lier performances in
Ibsen plays.
The Wings of Birds.
When birds were first created they had no wings. They hopped ' and
chirped and sang; they were clad in feathers of lovely hues; but they
could not fly. Then Providence made wings and laid Ihem down in front
of the birds, saying : " Take ye up thèse loads and carry them ". So the
birds obediently took up the unknown wings with their beaks and laid
them on their shoulders. At tirst those loads seemed lieavy and irksome - ;
but presently, as the wings folded doser and doser to their hearts, the
birds grew more reconciled. The very loads which they had at tirst
carried were in turn ready to support them, and to enable them to
soarjoyously upward to the sky.
Men and woraen are the birds; their duties are the wings. When we
bear our burthens^ cheerfully they cease to be heavy and wearisome :
nay, ère long they become the very pinions the lift and carryat us upwards.
1. Jumped. — 2. Annoying, awkwant. — 3. Usually spelled burdens.
Les Cinq Langues
N° 17.
5 Juin 1908.
8° Année.
ENGLISH PART
The Franco-British Exhibition.
Wretched woathcr and many awkwanl incidents, due to incompleteness
and imperfect arrangements, marred the success of llie opening day of tlie
great Exhibition at Shepherd's Dusli. But when the workmen hâve finished
their woi-k, when ail the varions exhibits hâve arrived, and when ail the
entertainnients are duly en train, then indeed will ail the roads that
lead to Shepherd's Hush he crowded with scores of thousands oi" visitors.
On the opening day, May 14, an ode, with nnisic by Sir Charles Stanford
and words by the Duke of Argyll, was sung. From this, entitled A Welcome
Song, we give a few Unes :
Take our welcome, comrades ail I
England's May
(ireets you. The youiig nations call
The old to-day :
t'.hallenging through Labour's toi!
And mind's Command
The mastery o'er every soil —
The nding Hand.
Rivais ! we give you Old England's re-
[ward —
Fair days in her woodlands, and sports
[on her sward ' !
Give welcome to France.
Jolly J'ritons, advance !
Here's a health to old France —
Give welcome to France —
Welcome ! Welcome ! Welcome !
In reply to an address of welcome, read by the Duke of Argyll, the Prince
of Wales made an important and sympathetic speech :
M y Lord Duke,
It gives the utmost pleasure to the Princess and myself to be présent on tbis
important and mémorable occasion.
We are specially glad to assist in the inauguration of an exhibition, the outcome
of the generous co-operation of tbat great Frencli nation with which we are con-
nected by close and triendly relations. (Clieers.)
I cordially join in the gênerai feeling of gratitude towards the Frencli Government
for tbe bearty and libéral nianner in which it bas supported this undertaking —
(Cheers) — and we ofTer our warm welcome to tbe représentatives of France wbo are
présent bere to-day. [Benewcd cheers.)
I rejoice tbat tbe movement bas been also keenly and generously supported by most
of tbe over-sea dominions of our Empire.
I congratulate ail tbose wbo are responsible for this marvellous and beautifnl
création.
I regret that on Ibis occasion it will not be possible toinspect tbe différent exhibits,
but we bope to bave an early opportunity of visiting the exhibition for tbat purpose.
I earnestly trust tbat the benelits anticipated in your address will be fuUy realised.
May the Franco-British Exhibition encourage bealthy rivalry, stimulate intercbange
of knowledge and ideas, strengthen tbe brotherhood of nations, and in so doing help
on the work of civilisation and promote peace and prosperity throughout the world.
Most notable among the représentatives of " La Belle France " were the
i. Grass.
[98J
angl. 17
130
ENGLISH PART
[778]
Ambassador, M. Cambon, M. Ruaa, the Minisler for Agriculture, and
M. Criippi, Minisler for Commerce. A few days previously, M. Crnpjii had
made a speech full of éloquence and of Frencli grâce. He said it was only on
rare occasions, when Ihey spolce in public, thatthey felt Iheir heartsso moved
as that day, when their feclings were dominated by a true and profound
sentiment of concord.
" l.et me tell you, " M. Cruppi went on, " that I feel those sentiments, and that 1
Fianco-British Exhibition ; Fieiich Applied Art Palace.
experienced the sliock of tlie émotions as I hâve felt it in no otlier circumstances.
Of course, thèse grounds are not linished yet. in a monfh or so from now no visitor
will he aide to understand the partial chaos of to day, but, in spite of the imperfec-
tions of the moment, \ve shall hear their admiration when tiiis régiment of workers,
resembling at présent a hive of bées, shall bave turneJ this place into a completed
great Franco-British Exhibition. " [Cheers.)
Referring to the boys of the Duke of York's School-, who sang the
" Marseillaise " on the approach of the distingiiished gnests, M. Cruppi said :
" When 1 savv those growing youngsters in the red coats and heard their fresh,
bright, and crystalline voices — without any accent — 1 had émotions, the like of
which I had never before experienced in England. At tliat moment my whole lieart
expanded as the entente cordiale is expanding. [Cheers.] Al that time it seemed to
me 1 saw a vision of what is going to happen in the next few days. I thought 1 saw
the illustrions Sovereign of the United Kingdom guiding the Franco-Hritish Exhibition '
witb the respected chief of Ihe French Kepublic by bis side. Thèse two men represent
our two great peoplesand our two great countiies with their historiés, their suffer-
ings, and their hopes — England repi'esented not only by its national genius and its
magnificenl Colonies, but still more by its great industries. England is not merely a
mercantile community. It hasproduced everything that is best in commerce, but it
bas aiso given us Shakespeare and the finest producls of morality and intellect.
1 bave seen thèse two great countries united, and in my vision there was the Presi-
2. For the sons oi' soldiers. It is about to be removed from Chelsea to Dover. — 3.
The réalisation of M. Cruppi's beautifui vision took place on May 26.
[779] ENGLISH PART 131
dent of the French Republic ami yoiir Sovereign liand in liand in this palace, proniot-
ing not only the entente cordiale, but the entente morale. It is not merely a
peaceful alliance, but a moral alliance. (Lhoers.) Rotli are men of great ideas. Hand
in hand our conntries will advance wilh this magnificent palace as nur symbol, and
the two great countries, which hâve often been in discord, willnow crown humanity
with the work of morality and civilisation. Nothing is more beautiful than to see
such a union — a union fruitful of ail good — and it is to the success of this exhibi-
tion that 1, full of émotion, raise my glass. " (Loud checrs.)
Noble sentiments nobly oxpressed. And in them ail Englishmen are
joinit)g. Some newspapers are printing articles of welcome, wrilten in
French; and on the omnibiises one sees, " To the Exhibition ', flanked on
either side by the Union .fack and the Tricolour. It is slated that French
families and French boarding-house keepers are taking hoiises in the neigh-
boiirhood of the " Entente Exhibition ", and, of especial interest to readers
of Les Cinq Langues, some French andEnglish families bave been exchang-
ing Iheir bouses. AU French visitors this siimmer will tind that ail roads
lead to the " Great White City ", with its Court of Honour ; its Concert
Hall, its Palais des Beaux Arts, its bridges over waters lighted by myriad
electric lights, its huge Stadium for the Oiympic games and athlelic perfor-
mances. Hurrah for Great Britain ! Vivo la France !
An Irish Hiring-Fair.
Some time since ^ve gave in l.es Cinq Langues an account of numerous English Fairs.
In The Dailu Tclegrapk bas appeared a description of a hiring-fair at Letterkenny
in the Norlh of Ireland, where the services of laboiirers are engaged, or " hired ",
by farmers. The account runs :
What an extraordinary survival is the Irish Hiring-Fair, that strange half-
yeariy gathering of men and women, boys and girls, nowhere siranger than in
this remote, quaint town, in the heart of county Donegal, with its impressive
Roman Catholic cathedral. The hiring-fair is only rarely seen in England.
At Sieuford Fair in Lincolnshire girls refused to accept hire as dairy-maids,
and men had to be engaged to milk the cows. Even in the South of Ireland it
is unknown, Only in parts of Tyrone, Donegal, and Derry does the old-timc
System of engaging farm-servants prevail.
The hiring-fair in some of its aspects is the meeting-time, Iheonly meeting-
time, ilmay be, of hundreds of families in the humblest walks of life. Hère
— I speak of the Letterkenny Fair — are congregated on the first Friday
after May 12 in each year. and on a Friday in November, the labourers of ail
âges from many miles around. In fact, the distances which farmers come to
engage servants in Letterkenny Fair, and which the servants return at the
end of the term of employment — usually halfa year — can scarcely be
credited. Hère the father and mother meet their family, drawn on this day
from différent parts of two or three counties, and negotiate the conditions
upon which they are re-engaged, it may be in the districts from which they
• came, but at a higher wage, or in an altogether différent direction ot coun-
try. Even, ho^-ever, when the young people bave made up their minds, with
their parents' consent, conveyed by letter some days before the fair, to " stay
on ■' ', as the phrase goes, they still make a point of attending the fair.
A largo amount of businessis transacled in the four or five hours during
wiiich the fair is in fuUest activity, and it is almost enlirely carried on in the
1 . Remain.
13^ ENGLISH PART |780]
Gaelic, or native Irish, language. Ilere is the registry office fof extensive
areas of tUree counlies, a registry office in which no fées are paid, a registry
office, in short, witliout a registrar or a register, and without a statF. Hiin-
dreds of contracts are being simultaneously concluded in \arious corners of
the busy square - or in the main street, into wiiicli liirers and hired iiave
overflowed before the fair is an hour open. There is no writing, and there
are no witnesses, save, perliaps, tiie curions onloolier, who becomes the im-
promptu arbitrator in the dispute as to whether or not '' Pat 3" is to get a pair
of boots along with his washing donc and €6 for the term. It is a slrange
System, this Northern Irish one, andits basis of simple faith on both sides
is seldom found unslable. But the boy or girl who, after passing the first
night in his or herncw surroundings, tinds tliem uncongenial, or peradvent-
ure hears from a fellow servant Ihatthe place isa "hard" '•• one, has the right,
or assumes it, to repack up the little bundie of spare clothing in the red
handkerchief or flour-bag from which it was removed the evening before
and go away in the earliest liours of daylight before the household is
astir ^. In such cases thecontract is deemed to bave been revoked by consent
and prosecutious rarely follow, save when désertion takes place later in the
term. The boy or girl make their way home across the mountains, even
should the home be lifty miles away, and the farmer seeks anolher servant
in the supplemcntal fair held a week after the first or large fair, apparently
with the object of meeting cases of the kind.
The hiring âge begins as early as nine years. I saw in the market scores of
little boys, and not a few lillle girls who cannot hâve been many months
older Ihan len. It was no unusual spectacle to seo a father and mother stand-
ing surrounded by their chiidren of both sexes, aged from 9 or tO to 15 or
17, the parents intcnt upon getting the highest wages possible for the ser-
vices of their ofl'spring, and the chiidren waiting with interest to know to
what part of the country Ihey were to be drafted. The family of the peasant
labourer of Donegalis, generally speaking, a large one; it not unfrequently
runs to eighl or nine chiidren.
Fine, sturdy chiidren were even the youngest of Ihose ofïered for hire,
and the boys especially had a look of self-reliance and manliness that seemed
to indicate that this was not their first hiring, young as Ihey were. And their
fîrmness in striking a liargain, even without the assistance^ of their parents
(who were notalways with them) ! I saw some chiidren cross examining quite
elderly farmers regarding the conditions of the home, at what hour the mastet
expected his boy to be abroad in the tields in the morning, how many days
in the week did hc give beef at dinner, was there a Saturday half-holiday,
and the like. From the girls there was an almost invariable demand for a
Sunday olF^ every second week.
The wages of thèse chiidren are generally relained by the farmer and paid
to the parents, this usually being a matter of distinct stipulation when the
hiring takes place. Frequently a boy "s father, a couple of days before the
fair, will make a tour round the faruis where members of his family are
employed and coUect the wages for the past term, with perhaps déductions
for the price of a pair of boots or the cutting down of an old coal for one
of the youngsters.
2. Place. — 3. Little Patrick, the Irish national name. — 4. Difûcuit; too severe.
5 Awake and up. — (j. As a holiday.
[781] BNGLISH PART
133
Words.
Words are lighter Ihan Ihe cloud foam
Of Uic reslless océan spray ' ;
Vainer than Ihe trembling shadow
That the nexl hour steals away.
By the t'all of summer raindrops
Is Ihe air as deeply stirred ^■,
And Ihe roseleaf that we Iread on
Will oiUlivo a word.
Yet, on the duU silence breaking
With a lightning flash, a Word,
Bearing endless désolation
On ils blighting ^ wings, I heard :
Earlh can forge no keener weapon,
Dealing siirer dealh and pain,
And the cruel écho answered
Through long years again.
I hâve known onc word hang starlike
O'er a dreary wasle of years,
And it only shone the hrighter
Lookcd at through a mist of tears ;
\Yhileaweary wanderer gathered
Hope and heart on Life's dark way,
By ils faithfiil promise, shining
Ciearer day by day.
I hâve known a spiril, calmer
Than the calmest lake, and clear
As the heavens that gazed upon it,
With no wave of hope or fear ;
But a storm had swepl across it,
And ils deepest depths were stirred
(Never, never more to slumber)
Only by a word.
I hâve known a word more gentle
Than the brealh of summer air ;
In a listening heart it nestled,
And it lived for ever there.
Not the Iteating of its prison
Stirred itever, night or day ;
Only with the heart's last throbbing ''■
Could it fade away.
Words are mighty, words are living :
Serpents with their venonioiis stings,
Or bright angels, crowding round us,
With heaven's light upon their wings :
Every word bas its own spirit,
True or false, that never dies ;
Every word man's lips bave uttered
Eclioes in God's skies.
Adélaïde A. Procter,
(1825-1864)
1. Embrun. — 2. Moved. —3. Destroying. — 4. Beating.
13't ENGLISH PART [7821
Goethe *.
[[
It makes a great différence to the force ofany sentence, whether there
be a man behind it, or no. In the learned journal, in llie intluential
newspaper, 1 discern no form ; only sonie irresponsible shadow ; oftener
some moneyed corporation, or some dangler, who hopes, in the mask
and robes ofhis paragraph, to pass for somebody. But, through every
clause and part of speech of a right book, [ nieet the eyes of the most
determined of men ; his force and terror inundate every word : the com-
nias and dashes are alive ; so that the writing is athletic and ninible, —
can go far and live long.
In England and America, one may be an adept in the writings of a
Greek or Latin poet, without any poetic taste or tire. That a man has
spent years on Plato and Proclus, does not ati'ord a presumption that he
holds heroic opinions, or undervalues the fashions of his town. But the
German nation hâve the most ridiculous good faith on thèse subjects ;
the student, ont ofthe lecture-room, still broodson the lessons ; and the
professor cannot divest himself ofthe fancy, that the truthsof philosophy
hâve some application to Berlin and Munich. This earnestness enables
them to outsee men of much more talent. Hence, al most ail the valuable
distinctions which arecurrent in higher conversation, hâve been derived
to us from Germany.
(To be continued.) Emkrsox.
See the four other Parts.
Montesquieu in London.
Montesquieu found himself, he writes ' to his friend Father Cerati, in
a country which bore very little resemblance to any other in Europe. He
was by no means favourably impressed by London. The streets, he com-
plains, were quite frightful, so badly paved, and so fuU of ruts and holes
that it was aimost impossible for a carriage to make its way along them ;
and the carriages were as frightful as the streets. The passenger, he says,
on scrambling '^ into them, found himself seated on an élévation as high
as a théâtre ; but, high as this was, over him towered the coachraan and
the luggage. In péril alike from what was above and from what was
below, the unhappy traveller was indeed to be pitied if he had not made
his will.Thehouses which overhung the streets, he Ihoughtgrimand ugly ;
and, with few exceptions, he saw nothing to admire in the architecture
of the churches and of the public buildings. But he was pleased with the
parks and the many rura in urbe which were so conspicuous in the Lon-
don of that time. A jotting in the Notes no doubt sums up his gênerai
impression. " It seems to me, " he writes, " that Paris is a i)eautiful city
with some ugly things ; London an ugly city with some beautiful
things. " The gloom ofthe climate oppressed him, and he had no diffi-
\. In the year 172!). — 2. Entering with difficulty.
[783^ ENGLISH PART 135^
ciilly, lie said, in understanding why the English were soaddicted to sui-
cide. In the life and habits of the lower classes he seeais lo hâve taken
no inlerest, but the aristocracy he studied with minute attention.
Professor Churton Gollins*.
* From a work by tlùs literary man, Profeâsor at the Uni\'ersity of Birmingham,
called Voltaire, Montesquieu, and Rousseau in England.
Poets Talk of Poels
Drove up to Tennyson's to diiiner. Alfred Tennyson, Aubi'ey de Yere
and 1 talk of poelry. Tennyson and I agrée on the odiousness of various
readings inserted on a poel's page — and of critical notes. De Yere
blâmes Ruskin for his récent remarks on Wordsvvorth, — " a Westmore-
land peasant, etc. "De A'ere wishes Wordsvvorth had written h'\s magnum
opus, of which Ihe Prélude was the beginning.
Tenisyso.n. — His small Ihings are the best. Even his Tintern Ab/jeij..
fine as it is, should hâve been much compressed
De Vere. — But if it pleased the arlistic sensé more, might it not appeal
to the sympathies ?
Tennyson. — A great deal might he lefl ont
Allingham. — Onecould turn the largest part of the^'.xcursioninto prosOr
very seldom altering a word, merely re-arranging it. Hère and there a
line or a passage of poetry would be left, like a quotation. It is much
easier to write bad blank verse than good prose.
Tennyson. — And it is much easier to write rhyme than good blank
verse. 1 should not be sorry to lose anylhing from a poet which is not
beautiful poetry. One plods over Wordsworth's long dreary plains of
prose — one knows there'sa mountainsomewhere, and nowandagain you
come to astonishing things ^ In old times, vvhen copying was costly,
Catullus, Horace, and the others gave only their best.
De Yere. — \Yords\vorth ought to hâve done great and perfect things,
one fancies. He lived a poetic life, he devoted himself to poetry, — How
was it ?
Allinghaji. — For many years he never read any poetry but his own.
His mind became monotonous.
De A'ere. — Ibelieve thatis true. And he was continually touching and
altering, and sometimes injuring what he had written.
Allinguam. — His expérience of real life was neither wide nor various.
His material ran short.
De Yere. — And yet, if he gives us a good deal of dulness, might not.
the same be said of Homer and of Milton ?
Tennyson (grunts ^) . — No, no !
De Yere. — Well, I fînd a great deal of Homer very dull — and surely
the last six books oï Paradise L^st are much below the tirst six.
Tennyson. — Possibly — but there's the charm of Milton's style. He
invented his verse — just as much as Virgil invented his.
1. From the Diary of William allingham (1824-1889), a poet of some repute. —
2. An Irish poet who wrote much on Celtic thèmes. — 3. This criticism on Words-
vvorth is eminently just. — 4. Grognant.
136 ENGLISH PART [784]
De Yere. — I read to Wordsworth yoar,
" Of old sat Freedom on tlie heights ",
and " VoLi ask me wliy, tlio' ill at ease",
and lie said, ''Fine poetry and very stately diction.
Tenntson. — H'ni " ! {Conteniedly).
Alijngqam. — Coleridge was more essentiallya poet than Wordsworth.
Tennyson. — 1 don't know that.
De Vere. — I Ihink so. But how melancholy to think that ail his finest
poems were produced in one single year of his life. Then he went to
Germany and took to Metaphysics — such a pity !
Tennyson. — But the man I count greater than them ail — Words-
worth, Coleridge, Byron, Shelley, every one of 'em — is Keats, who died
at twenly-five — thousands of faults ! but he"s wonderful !
De Vere. — He doesn't pall upon " you ?
Tennyson. — No. ^
^YII.LIAM AlLINGHAM.
{A Diary.)
5. Hein ! — 6. Tire. — 7. Thèse opinions of poets upon other poets, expresse! in
diiilogue-form, seem deserving of reproduction.
Diamonds.
The famous sapphire-i)lue brilliant, known as the Hope diamond,
Avhich has just been sold for €80 000, is but one of many coloured
diamonds of considérable value in existence. At the sale of the Duke of
Brunswick's efll'ects in '187't, a bliie diamond oflOi carats, which, \vith
the Hope diamond, probably once formed a part of a magnificent blue
stone of li^è carats purchased by I.ouis XIY. from the famous jeweller
Tavernier, was sold for the relatively modest su m of 17 000 fr. In the
Green Yaults of Dresden is a pale green diamond which the King of
Saxony occasionally wears in a clasp ; and in Dresden, too, aresome splen-
did yellow stones, ranging in weight up to 292 carats. Red diamonds are
very rare ; l)ut there is one of 10 carats among the Russian Crown jewels.
and there is also a ruby-red stone of 5 grains valued at €1000. in his
wonderful collection of gems, the notorious Duke of Brunswick had a
pink brilliant which once belonged to the Einperor Baber, at Agra ; and
several black diamonds, one of which had for many a century formed
the eye of an idol, whiie another once adorned the chest of a German
Emperor.
Of ail Ihe Princes of hidia, no one has gems that can compare with
those of the Gaekwarof Baroda. a mère catalogue of which reads like
a chapter from the Arabian Nighls. Perhaps the most remarkable of
the Gaekwar's jewel-treasures is a carpet, said to be about four yards
square, composed of ropes of rubies, diamonds, and |)earls, woven into
a pattern of exquisite and dazzling beauty. The gems in this carpet are
of an estimated value of i 800 OUO, and it is the product of three years'
Avork of skilled artists and jewel-setters. Still more costly is one of the
Gaekwar's diamond-necklaces, which is said to be worth over £ i. 000 000,
and which is the most magnificent in the world.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 18.
20 Juin 1908.
8« Année.
ENGLISH PART
The Visit of the French Président.
It would be easy to indiilge in extravagant hyperbole with regard to the
visit of M. Fallières ; but on this occasion hyperbole would be the barest
truth. The success of the visit has been immense, and in every way perfect.
The Président has seen Dover, \Vindsor, and much of London ; Londoners
hâve seen the Président. Affection has been mutual.
A detailed aocount of the visit would tîll several niimbers of Les Cinq
Langues; still the difticiilty of selecting the main points of interest must be
overcome. From the arrivai at Dover on Monday, May 25, till the departiire
on the following Friday, the days and nights were tilled with an arduous
thoiigh delightful programme.
The Léon Gambeita, Admirai Jaiiréguiberry's warship, that bore the peace-
ful guests, itself gave the note to the visit, the meeting of two maritime
peoples ; and, whether at Dover or in London, the réception of the French
sailors was similar to that given to the French Fleet on their visit to Ports-
mouth in Augiist 190o.
M. Pichon, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, and the Ambassador, M. Paul
Cambon, were with M. Fallières at almost every State or private function.
To give the names of ail the distinguished visiting or résident Frenchmen
would occupy too much space.
On the Monday afternoon, M. Fallières was received at Victoria Station by
King Edward in person, accompanied hy the Prince of Wales and the fine'
fleur of Great Britain. By a long route, purposely chosen to show the
beauties of Hyde Park Corner, Piccadilly, and St-James's Street, the Prés-
ident was driven to York House, St-James's Palace.
A field officer's escort with Standard, under the command of Lieutenant-
Colonel C. G. Wilson, was furnished by the Royal Horse Guards.
In theevening, atBuckingham Palace, the King andQueen gavea State Dinn-
er to the Président. We append the King's toast and M. Fallières reply,
both in the French originals and in the officiai English translations.
Monsieur le Président — Soyez le
bienvenu '. La Reine et moi sommes
enchantés davoir le plaisir de vous
recevoir chez nous, et comme c'est la
première fois que vous venez en Angle-
terre nous espérons vivement que de
votre séjour, bien que coui't, vous
emporterez un agréable souvenir.
Demain j'espère que nous visiterons
ensemble l'Exposition Franco-Anglaise.
L'existence de cette Exposition démon-
trera, plus que jamais, l'entente cor-
diale qui existe entre nos deux pays.
[104]
Monsieur le Président — You are
welcome ! The Queen and I are enchant-
ed to hâve the pleasure of receiving
you hère, and as it is your first visit to
England we earnestly hope that from
your stay, short though it may be, you
will carry away with you an agreeable
recollection.
To-morrow 1 hope that we shall visit
together the Franco-British Exhibition.
The existence of that Exhibition will
show more than ever the entente cor-
diale which exists between our two
ANGL. 18
138
KNGLISH PART
[826]
De tout mon cœur je souhaite que cette
entente soit aussi une entente perma-
nente^ parce qu'elle est nécessaire pour
le bonheur et la prospérité <le nos deux-
nations, et pour le maintien de la paix
qui fait le bonheur du monde entier.
Je lève mon verre à la santé de [Mon-
sieur le Président de la République, à
la prospérité et au bonheur de la
France — un pays que je connais et
que j'admire depuis si longtemps.
The Président replied as
Sire — L'accueil qui m'a été fait par
Votre Majesté et la part qu'y a prise la
ville de Londres m'ont d'autant plus
touché que cette manifestation s'adresse
dans ma personne à la nation que je
représente et qui en appréciera haute,
ment, soyez-en assuré, l'éclat grandiose
et le caractère amical.
La France se plaît à voir dans la visite
que je rends aujourd'hui à Votre
Majesté, comme dans les fréquents
séjours que le Roi d'Angleterre fait sur
le territoire français, la confirmation
des relations de cordiale entente qui se
sont établies si heureusement entre nos
deux pays et que l'avenir, j'en ai la cer-
titude, ne cessera de resserrer pour
leur bien commun comme pour le
maintien de la paix du monde.
En me conviant à venir visiter TExpo-
sition Franco-Britannique^ Votre Majesté
savait combien il me serait agréable
d'admirer avec elle les résultats inap-
préciables de la collaboration de deux
peuples qui par cette œuvre imposante
témoignent de leur génie dans toutes
les manifestations de l'esprit humain.
Je suis l'interprète fidèle de la pensée
du Gouvernement de la République et
de la France entière en levant mon
verre au bonheur de Votre Majesté et
de Sa Majesté la Reine, k Leurs Altesses
Royales le Prince et la Princesse de
Galles, à la Famille Royale, à la gran-
deur du Royaume-Uni, et au développe-
ment de l'amitié féconde qui unit le
peuple britannique au peuple français.
countries. With ail my heart [ wish
that this entente shall also be a lasting
entente, because it is necessary for the
happiness and the prosperity of our
two nations, and for the maintenance
of the peace which constitutesthe happ-
iness of the entire xvorld.
1 lift my glass to the health of Mon-
sieur le Président de la République, to
the prosperity and to the happiness of
France — a country which I know well
and which 1 hâve admired for so long.
follows :
Sire — The réception which y our Maj-
esty has accorded me and the part
which London has taken in it hâve
touched me the more that this manifesta-
tion is addressed through myself to
the nation which 1 represent, and
which, be well assured, will highiy ap-
preciate its splendeur and its friend-
liness.
France takes pleasure in seeing in
the visit which 1 am to-day paying your
Majesty. as also in the fréquent sojourns
which the King of England makes on
French territory, a confirmation of the
relations of cordial understanding which
hâve so happily been established be-
tween our two countries, and which the
future, l am well convinced, will con-
tinue to render doser, for their comm-
on good and for the maintenance of
the peace of the world.
In inviting me to visit the Franco-
Rritish Exhibition, your Majesty knew
how agreeable it would be to me to
admire in company xvith yourself the
inestimable results of the co-operation
of two peoples who in this imposing
work give évidence of their genius in
every manifestation of the human
mind.
l faithfully inlerpret the thought of
the Government of the Republic and of
Ihe xvhole of France in raising my glass
to the happiness of your Majesty and of
her Majesty the (jueen, of their Royal
Highnesses the Prince and Princess of
Wales, and of Ihe Royal family, to the
greatness of the United Kingdom, and
to the development of the auspicious
friendship which unités the Rritish
people to the French people.
On Tuesday, the threatening wealher became fair, and in perleclly l'avour-
able conditions M. Cnippi's beantiful vision was realised in Ihe visit of the
King and Queen and the Président to the Franco-British Exhibition al Shep-
herd's Bush. M. Fallières said only a fewwords in reply to the address from
the Borough of Hammcrsmith (in which the Exhibition is situated); but the
King made a pregnant alhision to the " Entente "'. lie said :
The enthusiastic réception which we bave to-day met with conveys to me an even
deeper meaning than the many loyal welcomes which I havc received on other occa-
sions, and which 1 ever regard as a public démonstration of the place I am very proud
to hold in the affections of my people. It is to me an expression of your satisfaction
at the cordial relations which exist between Great Britain and France. Happily, thèse
[827]
ENGLISH PART
139
two great nations are each day drawing nearer to one another. At no time in liistory
hâve the lies which unité us been more closeiy drawn ; at no time lias tlie friendsliip
of one nation for the other been more warmly fostered. This friendship will, I pray,
endure. It bas every élément of endurance, for it is based on mutual esteem and a
better understanding of national characteristics.
Such exhibitions as Ihat now being held in our midst cannot fail to increase the
mutual good feeling of the two nations, and I am convinced that the honourpaid to
us by the visitto this country of the Président of the French Republic is tlioroughly
appreciated throughout my dominions.
A narrative of the itinerary Ihrough the Exhibition Grounds and Build-
ings would be lengthy and irksome.
After dining wilh the Prince and Princess of Wales at Marlborougb
House, the Président and his suite went on to Buckingham Palace to the
superb State Bail. Besides several Indian Princes, a number of French off-
icers were présent.
On the Wednesday was the visit to the Guildhall to take lunch with the
Lord Mayor and Corporation of the City of London. The réception on the
journey along Régent Street, Oxford Street, and Holborn to the City was as
enthusiastic as that given five years ago to Président Loubet. The people
were out in their thousands, and among the décorations that adorned the
streets were such devices as " Soyez le bienvenu ", " Vive le Président '.
Surrounded by his escort of Royal Horse Guards Blue, M. Fallières drove
amongst mingled cries of " Hurrah " and " Vive ".
Before the banquet, an address of welcome, enclosed in a splendid gold
casket, was presented to the Président ; and at the luncheon the only
flowers used were La France roses, a most délicate attention. The Lord
Mayor (Sir John Bell) in his speech made allusion to Président Loubet's
visit. On the Président rising to reply, the entire audience cheered loudly
for several minutes. The text(in French and in an English version) runs :
My Lord Maire — Je suis particulière-
ment heureux d'être en ce moment
l'hôte des représentants de la noble
Cité dont vous êtes le premier magis-
trat élu. Comment me soustraire à cette
pensée que je me trouve ici au cœur
de l'activité intelligente et pratique de
votre puissante capitale, au foyer d'où
rayonnent les idées généreuses et libé-
rales, principes indéfectibles de tout
progrès et de toute civilisation"?
Il m'a été bien agréable de vous enten-
dre rappeler que c'est dans cette salle
illustre que vous avez entendu, il y a
cinq ans, mon éminent et respecté pré-
décesseur, mon ami, M. Loubet, consa-
crer, d'accord avec vous, de sa parole
autorisée, les premières assises d'une
entente qui a été si féconde pour les
intérêts moraux et matériels de nos
deux nations amies et dont les liens de-
puis lors ne se sont pas relâchés.
Si j'ai pu, pour ma part, par l'accueil
que j'ai cherché à rendre aussi cordial
que possible, prouver aux membres de
votre municipalité, quand ils ont bien
voulu me rendre visite, au cours de
l'un de leurs séjours à Paris, que j'at-
tachais le plus grand prix au maintien
des relations qui se développent chaque
jour à l'avantage de nos deux pays, je
My Lord Mayor — I am particularly
happy to be at this moment the guest
of the représentatives of the noble City of
which you are the elected First Magis-
trate. How can 1 avoid that feeling when
1 ûnd myself hère at the heart of the
practical and intelligent activity of your
mighty capital ; at the centre from
which radiale generous and libéral
ideas, the unfailing origin of ail pro-
gress and of ail civilisation ?
It bas been ver y pleasant to me to
hearyou recall that it was in this famous
hall that five years ago you heard my
eminent and respected predecessor and
friend, M. Loubet, dedicateby his author-
itative utterance, in full accord with
yourselves, the foundations of an under-
standing which lias been so frnitful for
the moral and material interests of our
two friendly nations, and of which the
bonds since then hâve not been loosened.
If I hâve been able, on my part, by a
réception which 1 sought to render as
cordial as possible, to prove to the
members of your Corporation, when
they kindly paid me a visit during one
of their sojourns in Paris, that I attach
the greatest value to the maintenance
of the relations which expand every
day to the advantage of our two coun-
liO
ENGLISH PART
8281
n'ai fait en cela que répondre aux sen-
timents de confiance et de vive sympa-
thie qui animent la France à l'égard de
la Grande Bretagne.
La communauté d'intérêts qui unit la
France et l'Empire Britannique trouve
son expression dans l'importance des
transactions quotidiennes entre nos deux
pays. Ces heureuses relations d'amitié
et d'affaires, le Gouvernement de la Ré-
publique s'applique de tout son pouvoir
à les fortifier, et, en son nom, je salue
avec joie cette imposante manifestation
du travail, du commerce, de l'industrie,
de l'agriculture, et des arts de l'Angle-
terre et de la France, qui a trouvé sa
consécration dans l'éclat d'une Exposi-
tion qui fait tant d'honneur au génie de
nos deux pays, et dont le succès assuré
nous conviera à poursuivre le même
idéal de labeur, de concorde, et de paix.
.Te conserverai. Messieurs, de votre ré-
ception si belle et si chaleureuse un
précieux souvenir. Je lève mon verre
en l'honneur du Lord Maire et de la
Corporation de la Cité de Londres.
tries, 1 hâve in that only responded to
the sentiments of confidence and lively
sympathy which animate France with
regard to Great Britaln.
The community of interests which
unités France and the British Empire
finds its expression in the importance
of the daily transactions between our
two countries. The Government of the
Republic applies itself with ail its power
to strengthen thèse happy relations of
friendship and business ; and in its
name I bail with joy that iinposing
manifestation of the work, the com-
merce, the industry, the agriculture,
and the arts of England and France,
which has found its climax in the
splendour of an Exhibition which does
so much honour to the genius of our
two countries, and the assured success
of which will prompt us to follow the
same idéal of labour, of concord, and
of peace.
Gentlemen, 1 shall treasure a cherish-
ed recollection of your warm and
hearty réception, l raise my glass in
honour of the Lord Mayor and of the
Corporation of the City of London.
That cvcning, the Président dined with Sir Edward Grey at the Foreign
Office (overlooking St-.lames's Park), the floral décorations being in red
roses and pelargoniums, wJdte lilies and saxifrage, and blue hydrangeas.
Laîer came the Gala performance at the Hoyal Opéra, Covent Garden, the
performance consistingof one act of Rizel's Pêcheurs de Perles, and the Gar-
den Scène from Goiinod's Faust, both French composers. Unfortunately
this year, French opéras are not being given, as fornierly, in French. The
spectacle in the auditorium was even more splendid than that on the stage.
On Thursday, M. Fallières went to the French Hospital in Shaftesbui-y
Avenue (on the border of the foreign c[uarter of Soho) ; and it was touching
to see some of the patients at thcir Windows to get a glimpse of thcir Prés-
ident. In the hall and on the main staircase were groupod the oflicial, médical,
and nnrsing staff. Some of the wards were visitcd by M. Fallières, vvho con-
lerred décorations upon M. Ernest Riitfer, the président, several of the staff,
and the Sister Superior Céline (for thirty years' service). The inhabitants of
the neighbourhood were mucli flattei-ed (and tonchcd) by this visit.
In theafternoon, the Président went to Windsor, receivingenrow/caddresses
from the Mayor of Paddington and the Mayor of \Yindsor (General Lau-
rie, a Crimean vetei'aiij. The splendoursand the treasuresof Windsor Castle
were viewed, and on Queen Victoria's tomb in the Mausoleiim al Frogmore,
the Président deposited a wreaih of lilies of the valley and orchids, lied with
tricoloiir ribbon.
In the evening, at the French Embassy, M. Fallières gave a banquet to the
King, for which the entire service of plate and china used at the Elysée on
State occasions had been specially brought over from Paris.
Several donations were made by the Président, notably £ 200 for the poor
of London, £ 80 for the French Hospital, and a like snm for Ihc Société de
Bienfaisance française.
M. Pichon has Ihus expressed his views on the visit :
The Président has been profoundly impressed with tlie magniûcent réception ac-
[829
ENGLISH PART
141
corded to Iiim. \Ve shall carry home recollections which will never be forgotten. It is in
my eyes a most cheering justification of those who hâve ail their lives been support-
ing the policy of an understanding with Great Hritain to see that policy triumph
today in the form of a close and, to adopt the King's phrase, a 'permanent' entente.
The enthusiastic welcome given to the Président of the Republic by the people of
London proves — \vhat,in fact, no one doubts in France — that the entente cordiale
bas definitely entered into the policy of the two countries as one of the fundamental
bases of that policy.
On Friday morning, .May 29, M. Fallière.s left London, one newspaper
expressingthe universal feelingby ils affiche: " Au revoir, M. Fallières! " At
liis own wish, the depai-ture from Victoria was without military pomp; but
most marked was the cordiality of the leave-taking with King Edward.
Unfortunately the Straits of Dover were in their stormy state when the Prés-
ident crossed. Before leaving Dover he sent to King Edward the télégraphie
message :
Before quitting British soil 1 would once again thank ^our Majesty for the warm
réception reserved for the Président of the French Republic, who carries away in his
heart an imperishable memory of his sojourn in London.
A visible mémento will be the Royal Victorian Chain, bestowed by the King
upon M. Fallières. This was instituted in the Coronalion year, and ail but
two of the nineteen other wearers are of Royal birth or allied to Royal
families by marriage. Thus the Représentative of the Democracy of France
stands among the favoured few. M. Pichon, Admirai Jauréguiberry, and
others bave become Honorary Knights Grand Cross of the Royal Victorian
Order, and other décorations hâve marked this splendid inauguration of
the "■ Permanent Entente "'. Vive Fallières ! Vive la France !
Edward Percy Jacobsrx.
General Buller.
A sturdy West Countryman, the idol of
Devon, a staunch soldier, a brave though
net brilliant gênerai, — was the late Sir
Redvers Buller. His misfortunes in the
Boer War were parlly due to the fact that
he had to gain expérience for others to
profit by. In spite of blunders and
mishaps, he remained the hero of his sol-
diers, andhe never lost the confidence of
many of his countrymen. China, Canada,
Zululand, the Soudan were the lands in
which he graduated as a soldier and a
commander. In a lovely Devonshire town
he is laid to rest.
Sir Redvers Ucller.
Goethe*.
Hi
But, whilst men distinguished for wit and learning, in England and
France, adopt their study and their side with a certain levity, 'and^are
* See the tour ollier Parts.
142 ENGLISH PART [830]
not understood to be very deeply engaged, from grounds of character,
to the topic or the part they espouse, — Gœthe, the head and body of
the German nation, does not speak from talent, but the truth shines
through; lie is very wise, though his talent often veils his wisdom.
However excellent his sentence is, he has somewhat better in view. It
awakens my curiosity. He has the formidable independence which con-
verse with truth gives ; hear you, or forbear, his fact abides ; and your
interest in the writer is not confined to his story, and he dismissed from
memory, when he has performed his task creditably, as a baker
when he has left his loaf ; but his work is the least part of him. The old
Eternal Genius who built the world has confided himself more to this
man than to any other... He has no aims less large than the conquest of
universal nature, of universal truth, to be his portion : a man not to be
bribed, nor deceived, nor overawed ; of a stoical self-command and self-
denial, and having one test for ail men, — ]]'hat canyon tench me?
Ail possessions are valued by him for that only; rank, privilèges,
health, time, being itself.
{Conclusion.)
Emerson.
The Rescue of the Englishman.
An hour's ride to the west of Toledo,and in the immédiate neighbour-
hood of Galvez, two men sat in the shadow of a great rock playing
cards. They played quietly, and had gambled with varying fortune since
the hour of the siesta \ and a sprinkling of cigarette ends on the bare
rocks around them testitied to the indulgence of a kindred vice. Theelder
of the two men glanced from time to time over his shoulder, and down,
tovvards the dusty high-road which lay across the arid plain beneath them
like a tape -. The country hère is barren and stone-ridden, but to the west
the earth was green with lush ^ corn and heavy blades of maize, novv
springing into ear. Where the two soldiers sat, herbage was scant and of
an aromatic scent, as it mostly is in hot countries and in rocky places.
That thèse men belonged to a mounted brandi of the service^ was évi-
dent from their equipment, and notably fromthegreatrusty spurs at their
heels. They were clad in cotton — dusky ' white breeches, dusky blue tu nies
— a sort of undress*"', tempered by the vicissitudes of war and the laxity
of discipline engendered by political troubles at home. They had left their
horses in the stable of a ve7ita\ hidden among ilex trees by the road
side, and had clambered to this point of vantage above the highway, to
pass the afternoon after the mannerof their race. " He conies, "saidthe
elder man atlength, ashe leisurely shuflled thegreasy cards. " I hear his
horse's hoofs ". And, indeed, the silence was broken by the distant regu-
larbeat of hoofs. The trooper who had spoken was a Castilian with square
jaw and close-set eyes. His companion, a younger man, merely nodded
his head, and studied the cards which had just been dealt to him.
1. The afternoon sleep. — 2. Ruban. — 3. Plentiful. — 4. The Army. — 5. Sombvt',.
foncé. — 6. Petite tenue. — 7. Inn.
[831] ENGLiSH PART 113
The game progressed, and Goncepçion%onthe Toledoroad, approached
at a steady trot. This man showed to greater advantage on horseback.
and beneath the open sky tlian in the streets of a city. Hère, in the open
and among the monntains, lie held his head erect and faced the world,
ready to hold his own aguinst it. In the streets he wore a furtive air, and
glanced froni right to leftfearing récognition. He now took histired horse
to the stable of the Utile venta, and while uttering a gay compliment to
the owner, he deftly secured for his mount a feed ^ of corn which was
much in excess of that usually provided for the money. Thns Goncepçion
and his horse fared ever well upon the road. He lingered at the stable door,
knowing perhaps that corn poured into the manger may yet tind its way
back to the bin '°, and then turned his steps to the mountain. The cards
were still falling on the rock selected as a table, and, with the true spirit
of a sportsman, Goncepçion waited until the hand '' was played ont
before imparting his news.
At length he said : "A carriage has been ordered from afriendof mine
in Toledo to take the road to-night to Talavera. What did I tell yon '? ".
The two soldiers nodded. One was counting his gains which amounted to
almost three pence. The loser wore an air of brave indifférence. " There
will be six men ", continued Goncepçion : " two on horseback, two on the
box, two inside the carriage with theirprisoner — my friend. " — " Ah t "
said the younger soldier thoughtfuUy. Goncepçion looked at him. " What
haveyouinyour mind'?"he asked."lwas wonderinghow three mencould
best kill six ". — "Outofsix ", said the older man, " there isalways one
who rnns away. I hâve found it so in my expérience ". — " And of five
there is always one who cannot use his knife ", added Goncepçion. Still
the younger soldier, who had medals ail across his chest, shook his head.
"' I am afraid ", he said, " I am always afraid before I light. " Goncepçion
looked at the man, and gave a little upward jerk '- of the head. " With
me ", he said, "it is afterwards — when ail is over. Then m y hand shak-
es, and the wet trickles down my face. " He laughed, and spread ont his
hands. " And yet ", he said gaily, " it is the best game of ail — is it not
so ? " The troopers shrugged their shoulders. One may hâve too much
even of the best game.
" The carriage is ordered for eight o'clock", continued Goncepçion.
" Those who take the road when the night-birdscomeabroadhavesome-
thing to hide. We will see what they hâve in their carriage, eh ? The
horses are hired for the journey to Galvez,where a relay'^ doubtless is
ordered. It will be a line night fora journey. There is a half moon, which
is better than the full for those who use the knife ; but the Galvez horses
will nol be required, 1 think." The younger soldier upon whose shoulder
gleamed the stars of a rapid promotion, looked up at the sky. ''A half
moon for the knife and a full moon for the lire-arms, " he said. " Yes ;
and they will shoot quick enough if we give them the chance, " said Gon-
cepçion. " They are Garlists '^ "
"There is a river between this and Galvez — a little streamsosmall that
there is only a ford*^ and no bridge. The bed of the river is soft ; the horses
will stop, or, atall events, mustgo at the walking-pace. Across the stream
8. The Englishman's servant. — 9. Meal. — 10. Coffre.— 11. Partie. — 12.
Movement. — 13. Relais. — 14. The partisans of the Spanish prince, Don Carlos. —
15. Gué.
14i ENGLISH PART [832]
are a few trees, ilex and some pines. This bank is high, and beyond are
lovv-lying meadows where pigs feed ". He looked up, and the two soldiers
nodded. The position lay before them like a bird's eye view. " This matt-
er is best settled on i'oot ; is it not so ? We cross the stream, and tie our
horses to the pine-trees. I will recross the water, and corne back to meet
the carriage at the top of the hill hère. The horsemen will be in advance.
We will allow them to cross the stream. The horses will corne ont of the
water slowly, or I knovv nothing of horses. As they step up the incline,
you take their riders, and remember togivethem their chance of running
avvay. In midstream I will attack the two on the box, pulling hini who
is notdriving into the water by bis legs, and giving him the blade "^ in the
right shonlder above the lung. He will think himself dead, but should
recover. Then you must join me. We shall be three to three, unless the
Englishman's hands are loose; then we shall be four to three, and need do
no man an injury. The Englishman is asstrong as two, andquick with it,
as big men rarely are. "
" Do you take a hand ?" asked the Castillan, fingering the cards. " No ;
1 hâve alfairs. Continue your game. "
So the Sun went down, and the two soldiers continued their game,
while Concepçion sat besidethem and slowly, lovingly sharpened his knife
on a pièce of slate which he carried in his pocket for that purpose. After
sunset the three men descended the mountain-side and sat down to a sim-
ple if highly-flavoured meal provided by the ancient mistress ofthe venta.
At half past eight, when there remained nothing ofthe day but a faint
greenish light in the western sky, the little party mounted their horses
and rode away towards Galvez. They rode forward to the ford described
by Concepçion, and there made their préparations — carefully and cool-
ly — as men recognising the oddsagainst them.
Thehalf moon was just rising as the soldiers splashed'" through the
water leading Concepçion's horse, he remaining on the Toledo side of the
river. " The saints protect us !" said the nervous soldier, and his hand
shook on the bridle. His companion smiled at the recollection of former
fights passed through together.
(To be continued.)
Abridged from H. Seton Merriman.
16. Lame. — 17. Éclabousser.
The Merry-Maker.
Orator. — Yes! we must increase the number of our European
troops in India; for, Mr. Speaker ', the pale face of the British soldier is
the backboneof the hidian armv.
1. He who présides in the House of Gommons.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 19. 5 Juillet 1908. 8« Année.
ENGLISH PART
The Rotherhithe Tunnel.
Tlie Prince of Walcs lias opened in State the new tunnel bcneath Ihe Tha-
nies, Connecting" Rotherhithe on the south side with Slepney on the north
side. A little ovcr a century ago, when an unsuccessfui attempt was made
hy the ïhames Archway Company to niake a tunnel from Rotherhithe to
Limeliouse, engincers dcchired that it was impracticablc to perform a vvork
of such a character that would be commercially nseful. The new tunnel is
the thirteenth now in existence bencath the river. The tirsl in date of con-
struction is the Tliames Tunnel, connnenced by Brunel ' in 1823, and com-
pleted, after many disasters and a spell of seven years' abeyance ^, in 1843,
the total cost being over € 600 000. That tunnel is now used by the East
London Railway. At différent times there bave folio wed the Tower Subway,
at présent only used for the accommodation of water mains ; the four tunnels
of the City and South London Railway; the two tunnels of the Waterloo and
City Railway, the two tunnels of the Baker-street and Waterloo Railway, the
Greenwich Tunnel, the Blackwall Tunnel, and now the Rotherhithe and
Stepney Tunnel, the most important of any in respect of dimensions, and
one of the most costly, the constructional work having absorbed about
ë 1 000 000, and ihe purchase of property to permit of the approaches being
made about another AI 1 000 000.
Rotherhithe is midway betwecn Blackwall Tunnel and the Tower Bridge,
which are two miles apart. A great saving of time wid therefore be effected
by using the new crossing-place, as well as the relief of traftic both at Black-
wall and at the Tower Bridge. The approaches to the new tunnel are conven-
iently placed.
So admirably has the work been conducted, so perfect has been the machin-
ery employed, thaï hai-dly a drop of water from the river has found its way
into the tunnel, and no serions accident to the workmen has occurred.
From Street level to'street level the work is 6 883ft, or about a mile and a
([uarter, in length. Of this 2 036ft is in opcn approaches, I 122ft in brick
tunnel, and 3 581ft in iron-lined tunnel actually beneath the river. The gra-
dient of the approaches and brick tunnels is 1 in 37, and in order to secure
this a curved course has had to be taken. On the south side the brick tunnel
passes beneath the South Metropolitan Cas Works, and on the north side
beneath land thickly built upon. One of the principal features of interest in
the undertaking is the bridging of the Rotherhithe Station of the East Lon-
don Railway at a low part of the southern approach. This was effected without
any interférence with the traftic of theline.
There are two steel shafts opening into the workson each side of the river,
and through thèse ail the excavating has been done. The tunnel may be
reached by the shafts nearest the river, staircases being provided. Each
shaft is 60ft in diameter, and the depth varies from 67ft to lOlft,
1. Tlie famous engineer. — 2. Cessation.
[IIOJ ANCI,. {')
146 ENGLISH PART [874]
Tlie driving oi' Uie tnnnei bencath the river and the properly adjoining the
river was effected with stiields under compressed air, the air pressure being
regiilaled to suit the rise and tall of the tide i'rom 13lb to 22lb. The iron
tunnel bas an inside diameter of 2~{{, which permits of a lOft roadway and a
4fL causeway on each side. Eight leet separale the tunnel from the bed of
Ihe river. Throughout, the tunnel and the approaches are lined with white
glazed bricl\s and tiles, and the covered parts are lighted by three rows of
electric lights-Great care bas been taken to provide against failure of light.
In the first place, there are five circuits^ so that the failure of one will leave
an ample reserve ; and, in the second place, if the current generated by the
tunnel plant wholly gives ont, an immédiate attachment can be made to
the Street supplies. Asphalt is used for the level roadway of the iron tunnel,
but the gradients are paved with granile.
A better apprecialion of the magnitude of the undeiiaking will lie possible
from a statement of the quantities ofmaterial used. There wereemployed :
Steel in shafts, stairways, and dômes. . . . 3 500 tons.
Cast iron in tunnels 25 000 tons.
Bricks in cul and cover tunnuls 4 000 000.
White glazed bricks. 300 000.
Tiles in tunnel lining 1 300 000.
Asphalt . i'4 000 sq. yds.
Cernent . 20 000 tons.
Shieids two) 670 tons.
ICxcavation removed 300 000 cubic yds.
Concrète 90 000 cubic yds.
S mail Gullivators in France.
The great importation into England of French cherries and salads bas led
a writer in Tlie Daily Telegraph to di.scuss the causes of French success in
sniall industries. Years ago Mr. (iiadstonc tried to lurn the attention of tho,»
Brilish farmer to small but profitable undertakings ; poullry-rearing, egg-
producing, jam'-making.
I.ondon is the most important disti-ibuting centre for ail French producc
in the way of fruit and vegetables, many of the large provincial towns deriv-
ing the bulk of their supplies from the commission agents, who are among
the principal btiyers on the Londou mai ket.
Perhaps one of the principal causes of the subject^of small and prolilable
industries having beconie so fashionablc is the knowledge of its successful
v^orking in France. If it is profitable to the French farmer, why should it
not be equally remunerative to the Englishman ? The conditions are so différ-
ent in the two counlries Ihat to discuss the matter fully would necessitate
an exhaustive Ireatise on the subject; nevertheless, a few of the leading
points are worth considering. The conditions of life, the character of the
people, and the acquisition of the land for the benefit of the cultivator, are
ail matters of vital importance bearing upon the success of the small farmer,
To contrast the average British farmer with his French neighbouris, perhaps.
not quite fair, cspecially to the former, but itis quite certain that " .lacques
Bonhomme " is a man whose requircments are less, whose mode of life is
more adapted to horticulture, and who seems altogether more a " son of
the soi! " than the average Bi-itish countrvman-. The habit of Ihrift is not
i. Préserves ; confilitres. — 2. In the carly nineteenth century (lie British roun-
tryman had not been drawn away into the towns.
É
[875] BNGLISH PART 147
only inltorn, but is ;in oft-repeated lesson given to every child of the French
fariner.
One lias only to visit some of the many small plots in Brittany and Nor-
mandy, as wellasin the still siinnierSoulh ofFrance, to see how econonnically
the familles live in comfort. The French farmer and his family are content to
work, and live a simple life. That is a most important factor in the case.
Another is, that the climate of France is more favourable to the snccessful
pursiiit of certain forms of agriculture than ours. Let us take, for example,
the cultivation of cherries. Although there are at times bad seasons in
France, the French farmer has a muchgreater percentageof snccess in cherry-
growing than he whose lot is cast evenin some of tlie mostfavoured spots in
Kent. Ttiat is entirely owing to the Frenchman's freedom from the unwel-
come visits of frost in the late springor early summei-, which are, of course,
unavoidable with us. Is it to be wondered at, then, that anyone is not dis-
posed to risk his ail in a small acreage, say, of cherries? As far as summer
" soft" fruits are concerned, the Frenchman has the pick of our markets,.
his produce is available before our own, and he is not slou- to take advan-
tage ofouropen market by sending his best fruits, exquisitely packed, at
the earliest possible moment, and thus secure to the full the benelits of his
early produce. But the Englishman's fruit is not ready for market until per-
haps the quantities available are large, the public palate has become to an
extent satiatecl, and the returns to the grower are nothing short of disas-
trous. Should this grower be a " smali-holdor, " and dépendent for his
income upon the results of the yield of a few acres, his chance for a whole
year is irretrievably lost. In the South of France there are many hundrcds of
small growers whose spécial form of cultivation is flowers, and who attain a
moderate degree of prosperity, but the net returns for their produce are not
large. Floriculture in England is a highly successful industry, but only in
very few instances is it cond(u;ted on a small scale. To produce a few flowers
in the hope of always receiving the maximum of rémunération is sheer l'olly.
It isquite an ordinary feature of the small cultivator in France that he is
his own landlord^. The acquisition of land in England is a matterof much
greater costliness and ditficulty than in France, and the British tenant is
usiially timorous that should his efforts be attended by obvious success an
increase in his yearly rental would soon be forlhcoming. Of the productsof
France which bave attracted most notice as being suitable for cultivation in
England, salad ingrédients take the foremost place. The French bave long
been famous for their lettuce, endive, batavia, and such like vegetables. The
delicacy and crispness of thèse throughout the winter months are such that
a ready sale at profitable rates is usually assured for them in England. Why
itis asked, can we not grow thèse ourselves "?Experimentsin this department
show that with energy and care there is no doubt that much could be
achieved in England in the way of lettuce-growing — but hère, again,
whether it would pay on a small scale is purely spéculative. It must be borne
in mind that the soil in which French lettuce is grown is quitc artiticial,
and often takes years in the préparation before it arrives at a stateof perfec-
tion. Fertilisors are freely used in its composition to such an extent that it
becomes so rich that anything planted therein immediately starts to germ-
inate. We nced only glance at the soil which usually adhères to the root of
tlie French cos lettuce to observe its colour and rich quality. The quality of
the soil is evervthingto the French small holdei-.
3. The Small Holdings Act, lately passed, may give some chance of " la petite cul-
ture " in England.
l'iS KNGMSU PART [876]
Back from the Frozen North.
On January 20, 1850, the Investigator, under Captain McClure, and the
Enterprise, undcr Captain CoUinson, sailed from Plyraouth in search of the
Franklin expédition^ which had been swallowed npbythe Frozen North since
18i5. Eighteen months afterwards the Investigator entered a little inlet in
Bank's Land, and nearly five years after they left England, McChire and his
crew, rescued by the Resolute, reached home again, having failed to (ind
Franklin, but succeeding in proving the existence of a Norlh-West Passage.
The Investigator was left behind in the ice of Mercy Bay ; and now cornes
the news from America Ihat whalers, diiringthe exceptional mildnessof last
siimmer, found the old warship almost in the same condition as when
McGhire left her. ïhe famous ship has, it scems, been liberated from the ice,
and it is hoped in this summer to tow her to British Columbia.
Once before, the Investigator had gone to the Arctic to search for Franklin,
on that occasion in command of Sir James Ross, and several other fruitless
expéditions foUowed ; but not until the late Admirai Sir Leopold McClintock
— then Captain McClintock — went North in the Fox in 1837 was the fate of
the Franklin Expédition made cleai-. McClintock found in King William's
Land documents stating that Sir John Franklin had died in Jnne 1847, and
that the Erebus and the Terror were abandoned a year later by the crews,
when 103 officers and men were still alive. Reports by Esquimaux left no
doubt that eventnally ail the membcrs of the expédition snccumbed to the
hardships they encountered, and many l)odies were found, together with a
greal number of relies of the two ships.
The Royal Society, the Royal Geographical Society, and Trinity Honse bave
undertaken the expense of a mémorial to the late Sir Leopold McClintock in
Westminster Abbey, with the consent of the Dean and Chapter. The mémo-
rial will consist of an alabaster slab, to be placed underneath Ihe monument
to Sir John Franklin. The inscription will lie as follows :
" Hère also is commemorated Admirai Sir Leopold McClintock (1819-1907),
discoverer of the fate of Franklin in 1859. "
The Deadly Mosquito.
A volume of évidence taken by the Royal Commission on Vivisection in the
lastthiee monihs of last year contains a remarkable account given to the
Commissioneis by Dr. Osier, Regius Professor of Medicine at Oxford Uni-
versity, of the methods by which médical science has progressed in its
battle against yellow fever '.
Dr. Osier observed that the story of yellow fever illustrated, perhaps, more
satisfactorily than any other, the remarkable way in which experiments,
carefuUy devised and carried ont, might not only influence our knowledge
of the etiology- ofa disease, but might intluence extensively the commercial
relations of nations, and save not only thousands of lives, but millions of
pounds annually. Yellow fever had been the great scourge^ of the régions
round the Cai-ibbean Sea, and many attempts had been made to find out the
cause of the disease, but ail had failed up to the year 1900, when a comm-
ission was sent to Havannah bv the United States' Government, especially to
1. Fièvre jaune. — 2. The science of the causes. — 3. Fléau.
[87 7 j ENOLISH PART 149
investigate the cause of yellow fever. That commission recognised partic-
iilarly the relations of the mosquito to the disease. The experiments which
they devised were carried ont in a United States army camp in Havannah,
and lliey were among the most remarkable that had ever been made. The
camp was composed of a certain niimbiT of immunes — that was to say,
persons who were no longer susceptible to yellow fever in conséquence of
having had it.
In this camp, Pj-ofessor Osier cxplained, a honse was constructed with
two compartments, divided from each other by a wire mos(niito-pi'oof
screen^. Into one side of the but fifteen infected mosquitoeswore placed. Mon
were selected, partly from the Army and partly from civil life, who had
expressed and signed their willingness to submit themselves to experiments,
and one or two of the médical men also volunteered. Into the compartment
with the fifteen mosqiiitoes a non-immune went in the morning, in the
afternoon, and on the following morning, and siibmilted himself to the
bite. Within fivc days he had the disease. At the same time in the adjac-
ent compartment, which was simply screened from thèse mosquitoes by
a wire netting, for twenty-one consécutive nights, two non-immunes slept.
They did not get the disease.
This séries of experiments had already revolutionised life in those régions.
Havannah within the next two years was cleared of yellow fever, the first
time in the 300 yeàrs of its existence.
Dr. Osier added that the discovery of the malarial parasite and the discov-
ery of the relations of yellow fever with the mosquito woiild enable the
Panama Canal to be built. Without those two investigations the probability
was that it coiild not be built.
Dr. Osier declared that there was nothing elsc in the whole develop-
ment of the British nation that would hâve so much importance as the
discovery of the mode of transmission of malaria. It was going to make the
tropics habitable. And ail this had corne aboiit through the expérimental
method and the expérimental spirit. The expérimental investigation into the
interaction between the mosquito and man prodncing yellow fever would
never hâve been thonght of if it had not been for previous experiments on
animais.
4. Écran.
Rousseau and Garrick
Garrick not only gave a siipper in honour of Rousseau - at his house in
the Adelphi% where a distinguished company was invited to meet him,
but paid him the compliment of playing two characters on purpose to
oblige him. Rousseau's behaviour on this occasion was characteristic.
Garrick had iixed a day for the promised performance, and had reserved
a box for him opposite to the box which the King ^ and Queen who were
expecting to see him, would occupy. But when the time came to go to
the théâtre, Rousseau said that he had changed his mind and would stay
at home. There was no one, he explained, to look after his dog, which,
if the door happened to be opened, would run away in his absence.
'* Lock the door then ", said Hume % " and put the key in your pocket. "
1. David Garrick, the actor. — 2. In 1766. — 3. Near the Strand. — 4. George III.
— 5. David Hume, the philosopher.
450
ENGLISH PART
[878J
This was accordingly done : but as they were going downstairs the dog
began to howl. Upon that, Rousseau rushed back, and said that, he liad
uot the heart to leave him in such distress. Hume insisted tliat, as the King
and Oueen were looking forward to seeing him, and Mrs. Garrick had
dismissed another company to make room
for him, it would be absurd to disappoint
them for no other reason than the impa-
tience of a dog. Still the humane or
whimsical master was not persuaded, and
Hume had the greatest diffîculty in induc-
ing him to keep his engagement. On
arriving at the théâtre, they found itcrowd-
ed to excess, for curiosity to see him was
notconfined to royalty. He was sufficientiy
conspicuous as he wore his Armenian
habit ^ He happened to enter his box at
the very time the King and Queen entered
theirs. During the whole performance it
was observed that they took more notice
of him tlian of the actors; but this perhaps
was not so much a testimony of admiration
as of surprise, for Rousseau appears to
hâve behaved in a most extraordinary
manner. Hecried, helaughed, and became
so wild with excitement that Mrs. Gar-
rick was obliged to hold him by the skirts of his coat to prcvent him fall-
ing out of the box into the pit. After the performance, he went up lo
Garrick and said in French : " 1 hâve cried ali through your tragedy, and
laughed through ail yourcomedy, without being ableatall to understand
the language".
Professor Churton Gollins.
(Vollaire, Montesquieu, and Rousseau in England.)
David Gakrick (17l'/-l';'/91.
6. Dress.
The Rescue of the Englishman.
H
Shortly after nine o'clock the silence of that deserted plain was
broken by a distant murmur, and presently was heard the beatof horses'
hoofs. ïo this was added soon the rumble of wheeis. The elder soldier
put a whole cigarette into his mouth and chewed it. The younger man
made no movement now. They crouched low at their posts, one on each
side of the ford. Goncepçion was across the river, but they conld not
see him. The two riders were w^ell in front of the carriage, and, as had
been foreseen, the horses lingered on the rise of the bank as if reluctant
to leave i,he water without having tasted it. fn a moment the vounijer
[879j ENGLISH PART 151
soldier had his man ont of the saddle, raising his own knee sharply, as
the man fell, so that the falling hcad and the lifted knee came into
deadly contact. It was a trick well-knovvn to the trooper, who let the
insensible form roll to the ground, and immediately darted down the
bank to the stream. The other soldier was chasing his opponent up the
hill, shelling him, as he rode away, with oaths and stones.
In mid-stream the chimsy travelling carriage had corne to a stand-'**
still. The driver on the box, having cast down his reins, was engaged in
imploring the assistance of a saint. There was a scurrying '^ in the water,
which was about two feet deep, where Goncepçion was settlingaccounts
with the man who had been seatei by the driver's side. A half-choked
scream of pain appeared to indicate that Goncepçion had found the
spot he sought, above the right lung, and that amiable smiiggler -" now
rosedrippingfromthetlood,andhurriedtothecarriage. "Gonyngham-' ! "
he shouted, laying aside ail ceremony. " Yes, " answered a voice from
within. " Is that you, Goncepçion ? " — " Of course ; throw them
ont. " — " But the door islocked, " answered Gonyngham in a muffled --
voice. And the carriage began to rock and crack upon its springs, as if
an earthquake were taking place inside it. " The window is good enough
for such rubbish '', said Goncepçion. As he spoke, a man, violently pro-
pelled from within, came head foremost into Goncepçion's arms, who
immediately, and with the rapidity of a terrier, had him by the throat
and forced him under water. " You hâve hold of my leg — you, on the
other side", shouted Gonyngham from the turmoil within. " A thousand
pardons, sefior ! " said the soldier, and took a new grip of another limb.
Goncepçion, holding his man under water, heard the sharp crack of an-
other head upon the soldier's knee-cap, and knew that ail was well.
" That is ail ? " he enquired, " That is ail, 'replied the soldier, who
did not seem at ail nervous now. " And we hâve killed no one. Put a
knife into that son of a mule who prays upon the box there, " said Gon-
cepçion, "just where the neck joins the shouider — that Isa good place".
And a sudden silence reigned upon the box. " Pull the carriage to the
bank ", commanded Goncepçion. " There is no need for the English
Excellency to wet his feet. He might catch a cold. "' They ail made their
way to the bank, where in the dim moonlight, one man sat nursing -'^
his shouider while another lay, at length, quite still, upon the pebbles.
The young soldier laid a second victim to the same deadly trick beside
him, while Goncepçion patted his foe kindly on the back. " It is well ,"
he said, " you hâve swallowed water. You will be sick, and then you
will be well. But if you move from that spot, I wi!l let the water out
another way. " And, laughing pleasantly at this délicate display of
humour, he turned to help Gonyngham, who was clambering out of the
carriage window.
Abridged from H. Seton Merbiman '.
18. Hait. — 19. Noisy movement. — 20. The real .profession of Goncepçion.
21. His master, Ihe Englishman. — 22. Voilée. — 23. Trying to ease his wound.
* An excellent novelist, recently deceased.
152 KNGLlSfl PART [SSO\
The Birches on the Road *.
BY KiNG Oscar of S\\ iîden.
VVe take this liltle tone-picture from Ihe pen of King Oscar of Sweden from the
' Prose Wrilings ", which hâve appeared in a fine German translation by Emii Jonas
in Hamburg, published by A. G. The Iving was i8 years old when he wrote thèse lines.
I
On an autumn morning, when the sun hadjust raised his glowing bail
over the horizon, although his beams had not yet warmed the cold air,
I saw standing on the road some birches with leaves ah-eady yellow.
Their lime was coming to an end ; their hfe of blooming, although short,
had been a beautiful Hfe, a hfe spent in the magnificent nature of the
North. ^Vhen the rays of the spring sun meUed snow and ice, Avhen the
brooks unchained murmured so softly, and the lark \ittered its trills high
up in the azuré sky, then tender buds sprouted from the bare twigs ;
thèse buds grcAv to leaves, they throve in the warm winds of Spring.
The birchw ood attired itself in the green hue of hope. As long as the
summer, the God with locks of light, reigned in the North, so long they
enjoyed their blooming beauty. Innocent and simple they fondled one
another, and atîorded reviving shade to the wanderer who was tired by
the burning sun. Now as the summer, much loo sliort in the North, bas
flown, look how they bear their fate with humilily, and let fall to
earth the treasure of their croAvns. In the time of their humihation and
misfortune, they stand there still as tlioughadmiring this peaceful morn-
ing hour. As though they were speaking to the wanderer, who was hast-
ening before tliem, in order to go after the rest of Sunday to his daily
labour, they roused him to admiration and to thoughts which are but
liltle linked to Earth.
Man also bas his Spring, his Summer, and his Autumn. The spring in
his lime of youth ; summer his prime of life, autumn his old âge. But
il is Irue that in the midst of the spring-lime of man there can be autumn,
as in the timeof autumn a cold touch of spring may sliow itself. Gare can
change morning inlo evening, spring into autumn. To the tree of life.
wiiich bas been struck by lightning, il is diflicult to raise itself again, and
at ail evenls for this il requires time. Il may indeed be impossible for it,
unless there are benevolent people who prop up the totlering tree, and
keep il erect. The sohlary désert pahn is Axasted by the sirocco so long
until it falls, however strong and slender it may bave been.
(To be continued.)
See tlie four other Parts.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 20. 20 Juillet 1908. 8» Année.
ENGLISH PART
The Way of the World.
The Go-wper and Newton Muséum at Olney.
The commitlee reccntly formée! to place the Cowper and Newton Muséum
at Olney, Bucks, on a substanlial foundation, hâve jiist issued an appeal to the
public. The house in which the poetlived for some nineteen years was pre-
sented to the town and the nation in 19(J0 by the late Mr. W. H. Collingridge,
and it bas since been the resort of thoiisands of pilgrims. At présent the in-
stitution has an income insuffîcient for its due maintenance.
Aniong the contents of the muséum are a nnmber of portraits of friends ot
Cowper; the shutter from Weston Underwood, with the lines, in the poefs
handwriting :
Farewell, dear scènes, for ever closed to me :
Oh, for what sorrows must I now exchange ye !
In a number of glass-cases may be seen autograph lelters of Cowper and
John Newton, the original manuscripts of the poem on " Yardiey Oak " and
the lines " To Mary", Newton's diary, Cowper's watch, mirror, andwalking-
stick, Newton's chair, and niany other objects relating to Cowper and his
friends. It was in the parlour where thèse things are kept that Cowper wrote
the cherished hymns " God moves in a mysterious way " and " Oh, for a
doser walk with God ! " and enjoyed the conversation of his friends. Hère
too he composed " The Task ".
The adjoining garden présents very niuch the appearance itdid m Cowper's
tiine. At the end of the principal path is a small building which liouses Cow-
per's pew, removed from Olney Church in 1904. Referring to his garden,
Cowper says : " The very stones in the wall are myintimale acquainlance. 1
shoald miss almost the minutest object ".
Treasures of Gold and Gems.
The discovery of buried Spanish treasure of gold and jewels on the foi'e-
shore at Paradelha reminds one of the romantic discovery of the famous trea-
sure of Guarrazar, exactly tifty years ago, under conditions almost identical.
Some peasants travelling nearToledo one day in 1858 noticed objects of gold
and jewel-work which had been exposed to view by the heavy rains. The
peasants, ignorant of its value, sold their treasure-trove for a trifling sum
lo a local résident, who fled with it to Paris, and disposed of it lo the author-
ities of the Musée Cluny. The objects proved to be of rare antiquarian as
well as in trinsic value — Ihey were, in fact, eleven crowns, which had been worn
by Visigothic Kings who had ruled Spain twelve hundred years previously.
The largest of thèse crowns, a beautiful pièce of workmanship, has thirly
[116J ANGI. 20
loi
ENGLISH PART
[926
large sapphires and as nuiny pcarls ot' great size ; below it hangs a cross
set with similar precious stones froin which hang jewelled pendants.
A Border Stronghold.
Alnwick Castle, the famous border stronghold, at which the Prince and
Princess of Wales hâve been guestsot the Duke and Diichess of Northumbei--
land, bas a thrilling liistory, daling from the Con([ueror's ' time^ when it
was beld by Gilbert de Tesson, William's standard-bearer at Hastings. Fronj
the De Tessons it passed to the Ue Vese's family, who held it until the close
of the thirteenth centnry, when it passed into the hands of Anthony Bee,
Bishop of Diirhani, who, in 1309, sold the castle to Henry de Percy, mnch of
whose work of restoration lias siirvived to our day. It was at the gâtes of
Alnwick that xMalcolm Canmore met his death in 1092 ; there the Second
Lord died in 1352; and a few years later Harry " Hotspur " ^ was cradled in
the castle, where he learned the arts of war to such good pnrpose that, when
a child of eleven, he was dubbed ^ a knight. Thrice it was besi^^ged, and for
centuries ils stout walls formed one of the rnost stubborn bulwarks against
the invading Scots.
1. William 1. — 2. See Shakespeares Henry IV. — 3. Created.
The French Révolution,
The Frenchman would begin his exploration of modem Liberalism wilh
Rousseau. Tiie Social Contract (1762) is one of the lialf-dozen or half-scoi-e '
books that hâve eilher wrouglit -,
or else announced, révolutions in
human Ibou^lit. By its tirst vibra -
ting sentence — * Man is born free ;
yet everywhere he is in chains ' —
a passionate thrill was sent throngh
that génération and the next. Thir-
teen years after the portentous do-
cument ■' was lannched at Phila-
dclphia in 1770, the revolutionisfs
in Paris tried their hands. The
French Révolution came. Of no
event in hislory are estimâtes so
varions. Some explain it as the
upheaval of the Celtic snbsoil ont
of the Ronaan stralum which
formed the overlying arable land,
representing weallh, intelligence,
energy. To others it is the master-
inslancc of Ihe genius of Fran-ce^ so
luminous and so glowing; so com-
bining light willi warmth ; so fnll,
as Drdlinger says, of scductive and
[)enelraling commnnicability. The French Révolution, cried the trenchant De
Maistre comprehensively, lias a salanic character.
John Moelky.
d. A score = twenty. — 2. Wniked ; iiiade. — 3. The Declaralion of Indepeudence,
[927] BNGLISH PART loo
Victor Hugo has l)oldly contended for llie lievoliition Ihat it was th(; grealest
stepin progress that humanity hasmadesiiice Christ. Goethe, on thecontrary,
the suprême intelligence of that âge, said : ' VVe can discern in this mon-
slrous catastrophe nothing but a relentless outbreak ofnaliiral forces; no
trace of that whicli we love to signalise as liberty.' Hère, too, our island had
a share, for it is ideas that matler*, and America also had a share. The his-
torical thinker, like Montesquieu, equally with the anti-historical thinker, like
N oltaire aiui Rousseau, both borrowed political ideas, and some ideas deeper
than political, from England. Lafayette and Brissot and the Girondists drew
Ibeir inspiration from the principles that a dozen years before had tri-
uniphed in America. ' Ah ', said Marie Antoinette, when the thunderbolts
fcll aronnd her, ' the time of illusions is past , and we must now pay dear
forall onr infatuation and enthusiasm for the American war/
Napoléon, while still only Consul, standing at Uoiisseau's grave in the Isle
of Poplars^ said ' : Itwould hâve been better for the repose of France if this
man had never existed. It was he who prepared the French Révolution '.
' I sliould hâve thought', a companion cried, ' that it was not for you of ail
people to complain of the Révolution. ' ' Ah, well ', said Napoléon, ' the
future will show whether it woiild not bave been better for the repose of the
world, that neither Rousseau nor I had ever existed.'
The déclaration of the Rights of Man sprang into flame — the beacon'5 -light
of continental Liberalism in Europe ever since. ' The r(>presentatives of the
people ', said the framers of it, ' constituted as a national assembly, consider-
ing that ignorance, forgetfulness, or contemptof the rights of man, are the
only c.iuses of public misfortunes and the corruption of governments, hâve
resolved to set forth in a solemn déclaration tlie natural, inaliénable, and
sacred rights of man '.iMen, they wenlon, are born free and equal in natural
and imprescriptible rights;. and thèse rights are liberty, property, security
and résistance to oppression. Liberty consists in being able to do whatever
does not hurt other people, and the limits of natural rights can only be deter-
mined by law as distinct from arbitrary power. Noset of propositions framed
by human ingenuity and zeal has ever let loose more floods of sophism, fal-
lacy, cant, and rant than this. Yet let us not mistake. The American and French
déclarations held saving doctrine, vital truths, and quickening fundamentals.
Party names fade, forms of words grow hollow, the letter kills ; what was
true in the spirit lived on, for the world's circumstance needed and demand-
ed it.
.loil.X MORLKT *.
(VlSCOU.XT MORLEY OF BlACKBURN.)
4. Are of importance. — 5. Peufilier^. — 6. Fanal: phare.
* From tlie l'ourth Séries of Miscellanies, lateiy puljjislied. The passage is a fine
example of tliat liuninous amt iliuminating stjle tliat distinguishes al! tlie writings
of the great piiljlicist and slalesman, who is now a t'eer. He signs his prefatory note
•• .T. M. ".
Thackeray
Thackeray is eminently a classic. It is safe to predicl that no prose writer
of the nineteenth century wdll retain a more steady, even, and gênerai popu-
larity, and be for âges one of the typical facts in the history of English
letters. The combinalion of faultless English, at once pure, nervous, and
156 ENGLISFI PART '928J
simple, willi wit, humour, insight' into Ihe human heart, and perfect
command of his own genius and knowiedge of its resources and its limits —
tiiis l'omis a power so rare Ihal the scholar and Ihe « gênerai reader », Ihe
philosopher and the man of Lhe world, the literary virtuoso and the novel-
reader can ail enjoy it, and will always enjoy it.
Vaniiy Fuir stands out as l'ar the chief masterpiece of Thaokeray. This
novel is the only one of ail his longer romances vvhich has anything that
can be called a plot, a drama, and an organic story of action ; it has some-
thing that can be called a drama of incident worked out to a catastrophe.
In spite of his turn for painting vnlgarity, rascality, meanness, hypocrisy,
pretentioLisness, base natures, low vices, and pitiful shams, allhough he is
much more at home with a mean character than he is with a noble nature
— Thackeray is not a cynical mocker at human goodness- He loved the best
in human nature. He did not a little to develop it.
Frédéric Harrison.
[Memories and T/iougJds.)
1. Tiie power of seeing into.
Penguin ' Eggs.
Thèse delicacies, which can best bedescribed as similar in texture and
llavour to larye plovers"- eggs, are now bcing regularly sliipped to the
London inarket.
The fi'eshness of the eggs is secnred by the action of the Government
of Cape Colony, who own the islands. At the commencement of tho
season, in mid-April, ail the eggs on the islands are destroyed, and as the
penguin continues to iay^ the eggs are collected eacli week unlil the
middle of August, after which the birds are aliowed to hatch and rear
their young. The eggs intended for export, after l)eing packed, are placed
in cold storage, and shipped in the cool chambers of tiie mail steamers.
They thus reach England within about three weeks of their being laid.
The islands on which the penguins congregate are situated on the
western coast of the Golony, near the mainland. They are the property
of the (ioverninent, who préserve and protect the birds, and arc divided
into twogroups, viz., the Colonial Islands, consisting of ten islands, the
largest of which is Malagas Island and the smallest Eléphant Rock, and
the eight Ichabod Islands, three of which hâve the names Mercury,
Pomona, and Plnm pudding* Islands. No végétation grows on thèse
islands, which consist of nothing but rocks rising ledge over ledge and
shelf over shelf directiy out of the sea. llere live only the superintendent
and his family and a few inen who are engaged in collecting the guano
of the birds. There are many millions of thèse birds on the islands, and
they are extremely tanie. When a bird attempts to land on the opposite
side of the same island to where he is well known, he is roughiy treated,
and generally regards discrétion as the better part of valour.
1. Pingouin. — 2. l'hu-ier. — 3 Poiidn'. — 4. (^hristmas piuldinj
[9291 ENGLISH PART 157
ïhe eggs areeaten by ail classes of the community in South Africa, but
in Europe they will ahvays be the food of the epicure and gourmet. For
boiling, baking, and IVying purposes thèse eggs are excellent, and as
savouries, with spice flavouring, they are not easily surpassed. The eggs
should be boiled for twenty minutes. Many people also in hot weather
eat them as an iced mayonnaise salad, and this is, perhaps, the best way
of ail. As they are among the most nourishing and easily digested eggs
known, they are highly recommended by the médical practitioner.
The Birches on the Road
BY KiNG 0SC.\.K OF SwEDEN.
II
But right in the middle of autumn it can, thank God ! also be spring.
Consider the thick birches in the wood. They go to rest in the long
w'inter-night, satisfîed with their summer-life ; for they hope that,
after winter has ceased raging, a milder air, a grander sun, a song
more sublime than the howlingof the autumn storm, will awaken them
to new life, to new pleasures. Andthatis their liie^this incessantexchange
of birth and passing away, of life and death.
And \ve ? We, who are often ungrateful, if fate places obstacles in our
way, we, who blâme the décision of Providence and resist it, and often
for interested reasons désire to fashion for ourselves a world which we
hold to be better — to what thoughts do we arrive ?
Is not the promise, which is deposited in our hearts for résurrection
and spring after the autumn of life and the winter of the grave, is not
this much wiser and more bliss-giving than the promise of any other
being in the realm of nature? Hâve we not received the gift to group
ourselves like the wood, and to travel together along the path of life in
résignation and friendsliip ? And is not this ^ift much more valuable
than many another which mankind calls priceless ? Oh ! wherefore,
then, do we doubt? Spring will never pass away for us after the winter
of the grave; for it is eternal and imperishable. It is more splendid than
ail earthly springs. The sun is God, and we are angels Ihere.
Should we not believe that the friendship which we hâve felt hère,
will still foUow us there '? Should we not believe that it will be even
stronger there than hère? Yes ! the friendship which united men in the
time during which we lived, and hâve striven along on dilferent ways
to the self-same goal, and hâve worked, it certainly exists at the goal,
and it will follow^ us on a better spring-morning amid a grander spring-
song into the eternal spring, and be the best remembrance which we pos-
sess of a past earthly life, of a cold autumn.
{The End.)
* See the four other Parts.
158 ENGLISH PART 19301
Queen Victoria's Character.
The dominant quality in the Qiieen's character, it seemed to me, Avas
her strong common-sense. It enabled her to see things in their jnst pro-
portions, to avoid extrêmes, as a rule, in hor estimate of persons, of
opinions, and events ; to accept the inévitable without l'utile nnirmin- or
résistance. Yery early this quality miist hâve been developed, and it will
account forthat perfect self-possession on Ihe announcementof her acces-
sion and ather first Privy Council, vvhich created surprise and admiration
in ail who witnessed it. Tliose who read of it were often incrednloiis, and
stories of her agitation on thèse occasions hâve ibnnd a place from time
to time in newspapers and elsowhere. One of thèse, which appeared in a
respectable journal so late as November 1886, drew from the (Jueen the
foUowing very suggestive remark in a letter to me : " The Queen was
noL overwhclmed on her accession — rather full of courage, she may say.
See took things as they came, as she kneic Ihey musl be. " It was so with
her through life. She met trial, diliiculty, or danger " with courage ", and
reconciled lierself with a thoughtful constant spirit, and without passion-
ate remonstrance, to what she " knew must be". What but this quality
of mind, and her strong sensé of tlie claimsofduty upon her asSovereign,
conld hâve enabled her within a few days after the loss', which fora
long lime took ail sunshine out of her life, to résume her active duties as
Queen, and to continue them nnbrokenly through feel)le health and the
many domestic anxietics and bereavements wiiich during her long life
pressed frequently and heavily upon her? The Quecn's historian will
liave much to tell in illustration of her breadth of view, her prompt déci-
sion, and nndaunted spirit in times of political ditliculty. At thèse times
the truly Royal spirit within hcranswered tothecall. A judgment enlight-
ened i)y a vast expérience, and unwarped^ by préjudice, then came into
play. Her sole thought \\as for the good of her people, and to see that
iieither this, nor the position of her Empire before the world should be
in any wise impaired. To this end she bronght into play the well-balan-
ced judgment which begets and is alone entitled to the naine of common-
sense.
Sir Théodore Mahtin ^
[Queen Victoria as I knew her.)
1. Of Prince Albert. — 2. Not biassed. — :>. A w riter of some noie (iiow over9û) ;incl
lormerly luisbnnd of the Shakespearean actress, Helen Faiicit.
William Morris.
The love of Ihc earlh, and ail her doings and growiiigs. and of the
business, moods.and fancies of the heavens which belonged to the earth
as the great earth mother's husband, was dccp in Keats ; but it was
931] KNfiLISH PART 139
deeper in Morris. Xo toiigiie can tellliow Morris loved ihe eartli ; slie was
his deiight, his joy, his relïigc, liis iioine ; the compaiiion ol' bis uiicoin-
panionable thoiiglUs ; his mother Irom wliose l)reasts lie drank liCe,
energv, food for his work, joy for liis imagination, and incessant beauty.
No one bas praised ber better ; and his poetry of Nature reveals bow close,
how passionate he was in bis worsbip. She was the only thing left hère
and there in England unspoiled for him by the commercial spirit ;
unrestored by the pretenders to art ; nnconventionalized by the false
worshippers of a false beauty. Aud when he rowed up the Tbames bet-
ween the meadows lilled with haymakers, or walked over the downs
^vhere the yews and junipers clustered in groups along the Pilgrim ' way,
he could, even in the nineteenth century, believe himself slill in the
fourteenth. Thames was unchanged, and the woods. At any moment he
might see a ckimp of spears corne along the river-way ; or the bowmen
issue IVom the trees, or the monk corne Irom the grey abbey to the village
green, or the farmer bid his wife and girls farewell in thegarden, or the
knight blaze the landscape into sudden colour, as he rode under his ban-
ner to nieet King Edward. Nature, at least, in the places he loved, was
not out of harmony withthe England of the fourteenth century.
Many years aftervvards, when his passionate humanity had forced him
into real touch with the misery of great cities — a misery of sordidness
and ugliness and base living, as great among the richer as among the
poorer classes, for, save for comfort, both rich and poor lived in hideous
conditions, — he was not content to live only in the past K He came to
live in the faith and hope of a better future : and, in that most Imagina-
tive of books, Ne;vs froni No/rhere, he painted what England might
become a century or two hence under a new régime ; the foundation of
which was the universal prevalence, among the people, of intelligent joy
in the work of their hands. Out of this joy in work would arise, he
thought, a désire for loveliness and its expression in things made, till
everything in the whole land would be at once beautiful and useful.
But in that book, in which the whole world is différent from ours, a
great deal of Nature was not différent from that which lie saw, and we
may still behold to-day. The vales and hills Avhich had been destroyed
are in that book rescued from smoke and dirt ; the ruin of Nature by
commercialism in the places wbere she had been turned into hell is
repaired ; the towns are sweet and clean, the architecture is noble; but
ihere are many places described in Ne/rs from Nowhere which had not in
his time been ruined, and which needed no repair. The reaches of the
Tbames which he dwells on so lovingly in this book are still the same as
he piclured them in the fourteenth century ; as they were for him round
Kelmscott" in the nineteenth. The gardens of rustic England are the
same, and the su m mer woods ; and the soft grey skies, or the sunshine
ofJune, or the fruitfulrain-cloud, — thèse, for him, were constant. Chau-
cer knew them, Morris knew them ; the lovers of generacions hence will
also know them.
StOPFORU BflOOKE.
1. To Canterburv wliither Cliaucer's pilgrims \vent. — 2. He became an active
Socialist. — 3. Ile called liis Press the « KelmscoU Press ».
]Q0 ENGLISH PART f932]
Matthew Arnold's Elégies
(1822-1888).
. . . Andnow I toiich on the two best poems Matthew Arnold wrote — the
Scholar Gipsy and ThyrsisK Both are engaged with Clough 2, and they
are snffiised throughout with the tenderness of that deep friendship be-
tween man and man, vvhich, begun in youth, keeps in it the purple light
of youth; whicli, conliniied in manhood, wins the sirength of the love
which persévères throughsad expérience, and the beanty which isborn oi',
and nourislied by, associated memories. Thèse fill the poems with sweet
émotion, enfold them in an air of tenderness. Then, thongh in this ten-
derness of friendship liehas escaped from self-consideration, yet they are
filled with thonght concerning the time they had both lived throngh, the
needs of their âge and its remédies. In this région, on which l must dwell
fnrther, the poems ought to be read together. They illustrateand snpple-
ment oneanother; and whatever is said, botii in retrospect and prospect,
however différent may be the momentary tnrn of thonght, allis brought
into iinity by the pervasivenessof the one émotion of mémorial andloving
friendship.
Then, too, anolher émotion fills the verse : that love of Oxford as the
home of his youthrui heart ^, as the luirse of intellect, the mother of Une
causes, the teacher and cherisher of the wisdom and beauty of the
ancients, the lover of the masters of humane learning and art. That
tlows through thèse poems, and issnpportedbyso rich a local colour that
not even Tennyson lias ever laid more fully a whole counlryside
before us. From every field andhilltop crowned withtrees we see Oxford
in the verse, lier ancient collèges, her " dreaming spires ", lovely in her
peace, romantic in her memories, classic in her thought. Over every hiil
we wander, in the verse, in the well-known woods, through the quiet
villages, in the deep meadows where the tlowers love their lile, by the
flowing of the Thames ; in [)oetry so happy and so loving that each name
strikes itself into a landscape i)efore our eyes. And to add to the charm,
Arnold hashlied the landscape with humanityandits work, withshepherd
andreaper, gipsies and scholars, huntersand oarsmen, dancing maidens
and wandering youths among whom, alive and gay, Thyrsis and the
Scholar Gipsy, and a méditative Arnold, alive and serions, move and
speak of the trne aims, the just ideas, the grave conduct, of human iife.
The [)icture is delightful, and the nrging power of it is love, — the life-
long love of an Oxford scholar for the shelter and inspiration of his
youth. In no poems that Arnold wrote is his natural description better
than it is in thèse.
Stopford Buooke *.
1. After llie manner of Theocritus and the Eclogues of V'irgil. — 2. A poet and
Oxford friend of Arnold's (1819-1861). — 3. Shown in the verses lalely given from Alfred
Noyés.
• A divine and a critic of sonne eminence.
CONTENTS
ENGLISH PART
I.
Celebrities.
Pages.
Alexandra(Qiieen),Oncrippled
children 9
— Her Shopping 30
Allen (George), Dealh cf. . . 17
Allingham (William), On Olhcr
Poels 135
Arnold {Malthew), Criticism of 160
AsquiLh (Mr.), As Premier. . 105
Campbcll-Cannerman (Sir II.],
Résignation of 105
— Death of 121
Hernhardt (Sarah), .Meeting
with Edison 47
Bloom tield (Robert), Memoirof M
Bonaparte(Prince Lucien), Ac-
count of 101
Brampton (Lord), Death of. . 17
Browning (Robert), Criticism
of 99
BuUer (General), Dealli of . . 141
('ambon (M.), On the Entente
Cordiale 17
— Accoiiipanies Président
Fallières 137
Carlos (King), In England . . 73
Cleraenceau(M.), At Funeralof
Sir H. Campbell-Bannerman 121
Colvin (Sir Auciviand), Death
of 105
Cooper (Fenlmore), Centenarv
of : 3
Cowper(Wiliiam),IIis Muséum 133
Gronier (Lord), Account of. . 1
Gruppi (M.), On the Franco-
Brilish Exhil)ilion 130
Dampier (William), Mémorial
lo 101
Darwin (Gharles), Gcntenary
of 82
Davy (Sir Humphry), Gente-
nary of bis Discoveries . . 89
Devorishire (Duke of), Menioir
of 113
Pages.
Dickens (Gharles), Pickwick
Exhibition IG
— As Fatlier Christmas ... 42
Edward VU (King), His Physi-
que 2
— His Reign depicted in the
Lord Mayor's Show .... Î7
— Institules the " Edward "
Medal 25
— Toast at Windsor to tiie
Kaiser 33
— Receives the Guilinan Dia-
mond 30
— tnstitutes the " Ordci' of
.Merit " 30
— Receives W. P. Frilh . . . 05
— Opens Parliament .... 73
— — His Early Visit to
Ganada 97
— Toast lo M. Fallières ... 137
— On the"' Entente Gordiale" 138
Fallières (Président), Visit to
England, 97, 137
Forman (Buxton) (Mr.), His
Keats and Shellev Gollec-
lions .".... 16
Francis .loseph (Emperor),
Whcn voung 61
Fiith (W". P.),'Account of . . 65
— Mis Daughter, authoress of
Leaves from a Life 111
Gaicia (Manuel), A Visit to. . 118
Garibaldi, In England. ... 54
Garrick, Performsbefore llous-
seau 149
(iladslone (W. E), As a Lover
of Books 105
GoHhe, Griticised bv Emerson,
124, 134, 141
Grifhths (Major Arthur) ,
Death of . . ^ 105
Hallam (Henry), House of . . 10
Hare (John), Knighted. ... 35
Hatton (.loseph), Death of . . 32
162
ENGLISH PART
[934]
Pages .
Helps (Sir Arlhur), Memoir of 19
Hole (Dean),Criticisni of . . . 27
The Kaiser, In England. ... 31
— When a Child 111
Keats (John), Criticism of . . 13G
Kelvin (Lord), Meiiioir of . . 49
— Romance of .... 57
Knowles 'Sir James), Death of 82
Landor (Walter Savage) ... 86
Lunardi (Vincent), As aero-
naut 77
LyUelton (Canon Edward), On
" llie Classics and " Les Lan-
gues Vivantes "' 3
McClintock (Admirai) .... 148
Massey (Gerald), Memoir of . 44
Masson (Professon, Death of . 17
Meredith (George), Mémorial to 82
Montesquieu, In London. . 134
Morley ^.lohn), become.s Vis-
count Moj-ley 121
■\lorris (Sir Lewis), Memoir of Sii
Morris (William^ , Criticism
of 99, 158
Murrav (David Chrislie), Death
of .^ 32
îsigh tin gale (Florence), Re-
ceivcsOrderof Merit. ... 50
Pichon(M.),Accompanies Prés-
ident FalJières 137
llousseau, Sees Garrick acl . 149
Ruau(M.),Atthe Franco-Brilish
Exhibition 130
Santley (Charles), Knighted. . 3o
Swinburne (Mr.), Criticism of 99
Tonnyson (Alfred), On othcr
Poets J35
Thackei'ay (\V. M), Poem on. 52
— His Lelter on Henry Ilallam 97
— Criticism of 155
Vere (Anbrev de). On Othcr
Poets. .^ 13;-.
Victoria (Oueen), Her Gorona-
tion 42
— Opinion of Emperor Fran-
cis .loseph Cl
— DistribulesCrin)eanMcdals 86
— Her character 158
Walcs (Prince of), Visit to Ca-
nada 97
— Opensl>anco-British llxlii-
bition 129
Wallacc (Alfred Uusscl), Ac-
count of G5
Waugh(ljenjamin), Memoir of. 107
Weslell (James), Dcatli of. • 73
Wordsworth (William), Crit-
icism of 135
II. — Famous Places.
Africa, Mardi in
Alnwick Castlc .
95
1 ai
Pages.
Arizona 67
Canada, Mint in 73
Caribbean Sea 79
Devonshire 7
Drurv Lanc 43
Egvpt 1, 103, 115
Eton 25. 73
Franco-British Exhibition 18, 97
129, 138
Indefatigable Island 66
Lapland 69
Letterkenny 131
« Lloyd's » , 51
Lucknow 25
Mont Orgueil Castle 125
New Guinea 102
Niagara 93
Old Curiositv Shop 2
Oxford . . -. 100, 160
Purbeck 71
Québec 97
Rotherhithe Tunnel 145
Sark 108
Vienna, Military Hands at . . 121
Windsor 33
III. — Poetry.
Aiu:.yLt{D ukQ ot) , First Menwr ies 68
— — Ode at opening
of Franco-Rritish Exhibition 129
Bloomfield (Robert), The Fa-
kenham Ghost 12
CouRTXEY (\V. L.), Chrlstmas
Books 41
W.\TT£-Uc.\To.N Théodore), 7)/rA-
ens is Dead 43
J.\coBSEN (Edward Percv), Alire
Ajjres. ...... \ .. . 92
Leopaiiui ((iiacomo), To the
Moon (translated inlo prose) 14
Ma ssEY(Ge raid), 77(6 G/oic-ioorwi 38
— — Christmas. . . 46
— — WiHiain Make-
peace Thacheray 52
NovES (Alfred), Tlie Golden
Hijnde 83
— Oxford Revisiled 100
Phillips fStephen), Thoughts at
Noon 61
— 0 restes 76
— Endi/mion 123
Procter (Adélaïde \.), Words 133
SwiNBUR.NE (Algernon Charles),
A Child' s Laughter .... 21
— « Victor Hugo » (A. Sunset) 109
— « The Sun » [Dunicicli) . , 116
Uhla.nd, The Threc Songs ... 8
IV. — Prose Passages.
Alllngham (William), " Poels
talk of Poets " I3:i
[935
CONTKNTS
163
Pages.
AiiGYLL (Duke of), " Garibaldi
in England " 54
— " On Some Poets "... 99
Austrian Military Band, Socie-
ty Recollecttons 121
Baliour (Mr.), " Décadence ". 92
Cell (Lady), The Surprise . . 4
BEn.NHARDT (Sai'ah), " Sarah
Bernhardt and Edison " . . 4"
Besa.nï (Walter) and Puce (.la-
mes) " Chased by a Bsar ''. 13
BuooKE (Stopford), " William
Morris " 458
— "MalthewArnold's Elégies" 160
CiicRTON GoLLi.Ns (Professor),
" Montesquieu in London ' 134
— " Hoiisseau and Garrick ". lié
Cromer (Lord)," The Oriental
Mind " 115
Watts - Dunton (Théodore) .
" Dickens and Father Christ-
mas"' 43
Emerson, " Gœihe ", 124,134, 141
Farjeo.n (B. L.), " Children " . 88
<jRiEFiTHsfMajorArthiJr), " The
Inner Life of a Club "' ... 82
GfiiMM (The Brothers), The Poor
Man and tlie Ricli Man,
23, 28, 37
Haggard (H. Rider), "The Fight
in Ihe .Storni " 18
— " The Adventure at Ihe
Inn " 55, 62
"^ Henry Halhmi's Uouse "' . . 10
Harland (Henrv), A Morning
Ramble . .' 26
HxRRisoN (Frédéric), " Thacke-
ray " 155
Helps (Sir Arthur), '' The Pop-
lar and Ihe Oak " .... 19
— " Friends in Council" . 20
IlOLE(Dean), "The Lettersof 27
— — " The Mania tobe
culled Esquire " 28
JACOBSE.N(Ed\vardPercv),'\r/</(-
iri the Cl-iff. . 7, ii, 22, 30, 39
— " The Visit of the French
Président " 137
" The Kaiser when a Child '"
[Lenres from a Life) ... 111
Lesslng, '" The Miser "'. ... 54
Mackinlay (M. Sterling), " A
Xonagenarian Teacher
(Garcia). 118
Maro.ncelli fPicro) " The Cush-
ion of the Countess Con-
falonieri " 118
Martin (SiRTHEODORE),''Queen
Victoria's Gharacler "' . . . 158
" Masler Perch " 64
Maugham (W. S.), " The Cara-
v.m "........... 95
- Pages.
Merrima.n (H. Selon)," The Res-
cue of theEnglishman "142, 150
Molesworth (Mrs), " A Taie of
Christmas Trees " (Adapted
from) 47
MoKLEY (John), " Tihe Frencli
Révolution " 154
Oesteren (Fried. Werner Van),
Tlie Death of a liera, 70, 78,
84, 9*, 102, 110
Oscar (King of Sweden), " The
Birches on the Road "'. 152, 157
Parker (Sir Gilbert). " The
Seagulls' Home " 108
PuiLLPOTTs (Eden), " Pete and
Pete". . 79
RoBiNs (Elizabeth), " In the Far
North " 119, 126
RiisEBERY (Lord), " States'men
and Books " 105
Trull (H. D.), -The English
Peopie " \ . . 80
Um.ney (J. C), On tlie " Making
of Scents " 75
Vjctoru (Queen), " Queen
Victoria's Goronation " . . 42
— " The Emperor Francis
•Joseph " 61
— "The Distribution of the
Crimean Medals '. . . . 86
" The Wings of Birds ^' . . . 128
WoLFE ! Sir H. Drummond) " A
Scholar Prince " (Prince Lu-
cien Bonaparte) toi
V. — History, Politics, and
Social Life.
Books read bv children ... 114
Tlie Breton Bards 9
Christmas Bazaars 42
— Book-Market ... 41
— The Post-Office at. 58
Distaff Day and PJough Mon-
day 67
Easler MondavCustom. . . . 103
The Edward Medal. . . 25, 73, 91
Foreign Trade, Dritish ... 34
Fuel Supply, 'fhe World's . . 59
Ileroes of Peace 91
Hiring-Fair, An Irish .... 131
Hoiidays at Home 40
Literary Notes 16,32,40
The Lord Mavor's Show ... 17
The Merrv-M"aker, etc. 8, 32, 72,
88, 96, 112, 144
St. Patrick's Day 98
The Pyx, Trial of 2
Quarries by the Sea 71
The Umbrella .-.7
The Wav of the World. . 2, 9, 17,
25, 35, 49, 57, 65, 73, 81, 97, 105,
12t, !o3
161
ENGLTSH PART
[936]
VI.
Travels and Science.
Pagei?.
America, By Rail in, (Waltf.r
Crâne) . ' 67
Ballooning, Early English . . 77
A Cenlury of Chèmistry . . 89
Cinemalograpli, for the Sliidy
of Diseases 08
(>rusoes. Modem 66
The Cullinan Diamond. ... 36
Diamonds 136
Esquimaux 120
Eton, A German 73
A Great Explorer (Dampier) . 101
French as the Universal Lang-
uage 122
The Frozen Norlh 148
The Ilair of the Head H2
Kelvin (Lord), His Palenls . . 49
Lavendcr, SAveet 60
Marine Insurance ol
Measiirin^' The Schoolhov at
Eton . ' 26
The Mosquito 148
Mont Orgueil Castle 12r)
Natural Sélection 65
Niagara, The Falls of (Wat.tkr
Crank) 93
Penguin Eggs 156
Pilcïiards.' 29
The Reindeer 69
Rotherhithe Tunnel 145
Sea-guUs 108
Pages.
Scent-making 75
Small Cultivators in France 146
Wine-making in Italy (^VALTER
Crâne) 38
VII. — Portraits and
Illustrations.
Asquitli (Mr.), Portrait . ,
Balfour (Mr.), Portrait . .
Buller ((ieneral), Portrait .
Cromer (Lord), Portrait . .
Dampier (William), Portrait
Davy (Sirllumphry), Portrait
Devonshire (Duke of), Portrait
Franco-British Exhibition, Cut
Garrick (David), Portrait. .
llaggard(H. Rider), Portrait
Hallam (Henry), Portrait. .
Helps (Sir Arthur), Portrait
llole (Dean), Portrait . . .
Kelvin (Lord), Portrait . .
Massey (tierald), Portrait .
Meredith (Georrre), Portrait.
Morley (.lolm). Portrait. . .
Mount Orgueil Castle, View
Morris (Sir Lewis), Portrait
Nightingale (Florence), Por
trait
Old Curiosity Sliop, Cut. .
Perfumes, Extraction of, Cut
Reindeer, Cut
Waugli (lienjamin), Portrait
105
92
141
1
102
89
113
130
150
62
10
19
27
49
45
81
154
125
35
50
4
75
69
107
Les Cinq Langues
N" i.
5 Octobre 1907.
8«~ Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
Alicante.
Hablar de Alicante équivale à hablar de sol, de cielo siempre aziil, de mar
tranqiiila, de palmeras flexibles que al impulso de la bri«a se mueveti con
ritmico raovimiento semejando monumentales abanicos, y de reposo y
de paz.
i Alicante! Ciudad blanca en la que todo es blanco; blancas las casas,
Alicante à vista de pajaro.
blanco el polvo de sus caminos, y blanca también la énorme mole ' de piedra
que sirve de pedestal al castillo de Santa Barbara. Alicante es ademàs el
pulmôn de una buena parte de Espana en verano y el puiito de réunion de
otra gran parte en invierno.
Apenas empiezan los calores, los habitantes del interior, entre los que se
cuentan no pocos madrilenos, en pocas palabras, toHos aquellos â quienes sus
medios de fortuna no les permiten ir à lucirse à las playas del norle, toman
por asalto los trenes y â Alicante van para zambullirse en las limpidas-
aguas de sus playas, sus playas de finisima arena, y â gozar del fresco que se
disfruta bajo la bôveda formada por palmeras de perenne verdura por entre
cups laciniadas^ hojas asoman racimos de amarillos dâliles.
Y Alicante, al aparecer de lejos, blanquisimo entre las escolleras de su
lindo puerto, puerto que dentro de algunos aôos, cuando se terminen las
obras, sera uno de los mâs frecuentados de la parte méridional del Medite-
rrâneo, semejauna perlitaque asoma su brillante oriente por la entreabierta
1. Masa. — 2. Muy claras. — 3. Laciiiias : franjas en que estan divididas las hojas
de la palmera y otras plantas .
[3]
KSPAG. 1
PARTE ESPANOLA
[18]
concliH, iina perlita que prodiga salud y fiierzas â los sanos durante el verano,
y en invierno brinda â los enFermos las delicias de un clima templado siem-
pre igual, y la alegria de un cielo siempre aznl.
jAlicante! Linda ciudad que tal vez en dia no
lejano sea tan famosa como Niza, la poblaciôn de
las elegancias invernales, y como Mâlaga la Bella,
la villa predilecta* de los ingleses que en Espaûa
viven.
Alicante, ciudad genuinaniente Espanola ciiyos
hijos lecuerdan â los anliguos sarracenos por el
à, '^^^^^' [ ""^^ color bronceado de su piel y la
r:"" i ■". • I /^ I iJB^âS^ alegria y la franqueza que cen-
[§W}fi tellea en su mirada.
Alicante y su puerto, con su
yr- ^ flotilla de barquichuelos que en
. 3. . ^^^^^K"-- •#' todas direcciones surcan sus
|-cs PrlCl'''"?p^;i,^^'!^'' tranquilas aguas. aguas dormi-
<* i^« •4tllÇiS3'ii'H™.-jff^i das cual las de un lago. . .
^'i ,11! ::'*'^Vi - "; Alicante, con sus edificios,
sus iglesias y sus casas que
cualquiera las creeria taljadas
en marfil, aparece siempre en-
vuelta, verano é invierno, por
esc vaho amarillento y transpa-
rente que tanto llena de inquie-
tud y turbaciôn las aimas de los
hombres del norte. . .
Y al conleniplar Alicante,
desde lo alto del castillo de
Santa Barbara, que semcja una ciudadela de la mar, viendo su hermosa
playa â un lado, sus acantilados â otro, y teniendo ante los ojos la azulada
extension del Mcditerrâneo, espejo creado exprofeso^ por Dios para que en él
se retrate el cicio, se sienten revivir todos los recuerdos... Y las horas
pasan velozmente. .
Pasan velozmente, y al caer la larde, cuando el cielo se viste de luto, ni
los recuerdos se ennegrecen ni parece que las tinieblas envuelvan â la ciu-
dad, no, ciudad v recuerdos parece que se alejan hasta desvanecerse en el
infinito de los siglos. . . " Carlos de Batlle.
i /
Alicante: El Avuntamiento.
4. Frcferida. — 5. Kspresamente.
La toma de Tetuân
A lin de enero einpe/<) â susurrarse en el campaineiito, que en los pri-
nieros di'as dei mes inmediato atacari'anios el Real enemiyo y toniarîamos
la ciudad que provocando nuestro deseo, â nuestra vista se crguia'. La
vispera del di'a senalado para la gran empresa, desembarcaroi), llenos de
entiisiasmo, los volnntarios catalanes, veslidosâ iisanza de su pais, y dis-
puestos à derrainar- liasta la lïltiina gota de sn sangre en deiensa de su
• Heclio de armas ocurrido durante la guerra que Espafia sostuvo (1860) con
Marruecos bMjo e! reinado de Isabel II. El ^^eneral en jefe del ejéreito Don l.eopoldo
Odonell, mâs tarde fué duque de Tetnàn, y nno de los générales que màs se distin-
guieron fué Don Juan Prim, conde de Keus v màs tarde marqués de los Castillejos.
l.Alzaba. — 2 Verter.
[19] PARTE ESPANOLA
Dios y de su patria. No bien entraron en la ensenada los buques ([ue los
conduci'an, el diujue deTetnân niandi') an recado al gênerai Prim, avisân-
dole la lleyada de sus paisanos y poniéndolos bajo sus ordenes. Iiimedia-
tamente el conde de Reus monU') en uno de los caballos arabes cogidosel
dia 31 de enero, caballo de einpuje y resistencia, que tascaba el IVeuo con
impaciencia y con in([uielud, y se dirigio a la playa donde habia acudido
ya el conde de Lucena. j:.rale dificil al gênerai Prim disimular el gozo
que senli'a por la llegada de sus paisanos, que tan oportunamente de-
sembarcaban [)ara intervenir en un gran aconteciiniento. Ni ur) instante'
se scparaban sus ojos de las lanchas en que los catalanes vem'an â tierra,
las cuales ofreci'an admirable golpe de vista a la apinada y a vida inuche-
dumbre, (|ue, arremolinada en la playa 6 encaramada en los faluchos
del rio, miraba con creciente curiosidad la aproximaciim de los volunta-
rios, con sus pintorescos uniformes y sus graciosas barretinas. Recibi(')los
una mi'isica militar. Terminado el desembarco, Ibrmâronse en la playa,
y el gênerai Prim, adelantandose hacia ellos montado en su brioso ca-
ballo, pronunciô con eslbrzada entonaciôn en la lengua catalana, tan
enérgica y vibrante, lasiguiente arenga :
« Catalanes : bien venidos seais al valiente ejército de Africa que os
acoje^ como camaradas. Persuadido estoy de que seréis dignos de estos
heroicos soldados, y séria no conoceros si lo dudase un solo instante.
Todos sentis la necesidad de mantener ilesa la honra de la tierra donde
habéis nacido ; y si uno solo de vosotros el di'a del combate, que sera
manana, — y yo os l'elicito por la providencial oportunidad con que
habéis llegado, — si uno solo de vosotros se portase con cobardia vol-
viendo la espaldaal enemigo, la honra de Catalunaquedaria mancillada.
Seguro estoy de que no quedarà.
« Imitad el ejemplo de vuestros gloriosos antepasados cuyos heroicos
hechos registra con admiraciôn la historia, no solo en esta tierra, sino
en otras mâs lejanas todavia, hasta atravesar las Termôpilas, que
parecen creadas para teatro de grandes acciones. ITaced como hicieron
ellos, y seréis dignos de este valiente ejército que os recibe como amigos ;
y conquistaréis nn nuevo laurel para la corona que tejieron en otros
tiempos las invencibles armas catalanas.
« Ya veis la satisfacciôn con que el ejército os acoje. La mûsica de
uno de sus bravos' batallones acude a saludaros, y el mismo gênerai en
jefe que me dispetisa el honor de que os colo(pie entre los valientes que
tantas veces he conducido al combate, se présenta à recibiros al
desembarcar en las costas af'ricanas. ; Loor a ese gênerai que ha querido
y sabido levantar a nuestra Espana de la postracion en que yaci'a, para
demostrar à la f'az de Europa (|ue no estaba muerta, y que sus hijos,
dignos herederos de su gloria antigua, son capaces de hacer por la patria
cuanto humanamente pueden hacer los hombres !
« Para formar parte de este ejército, no basta s()lo ser valiente ; se
necesita ser sufrido ^. Debéis aceptar con resignaciôn las fatigas, los
peligros de todo género ; hasta las mortiferas enfermedades. Siempre
valientes, pero subordinados siempre, si vuestros jefes os mandan
trabajar, â trabajar ; si os ordenan atravesar pantanos, atravesadlos, y
si fuera preciso ira Tetuân porel rio, ; al agua ! y hasta Tetuânnadando.
3. Momeiilo. — 4. Uecibe. — 5. Valientes. — 6. Soportar los sufrimientos.
PARTE ESPANOLA 120
« Asi' lo han lieclio y lo haceii los que son ya vuestros camaradas, y
asl lo haréis vosotros, por que asi eu m pie a los hijos del bravo pueblo
catalan.
« Soldados : Cataluna, que os ha despedido con tierno entusiasmo, las
madrés, los liennanos, los auiigos, os contemplan con orgullo. No
olvidéis nunca (|ue sois los depositarios de su honra.
u No defraudaréis sus esperanzas, que son las niias ; pero si por desdi-
clia, lo (jue no espero, asi no fuera, ni uiio solo de vosotros volveria â
pisar el suelopatrio ; aqui raoriréis todos, atitesque mancillaren lo mâs
mininio el nombre que ilevàis. Siguiendo las huellas de vuestros antepa-
sados,yhaciéndoosdignosde esteejército de bravos, alregresar à vuestros
hogares, los catalanes os recibiràn con aplauso, y donde quiera que uno
seencueutre, oiréis por todas partes; ; lie aliî un valiente ! — Soldados ;
j Viva la Reina ! »
Varias veces lue interrumpido el gênerai con gritos de indomable
entusiasmo. El coude de Reus liablabaun idiomaextrano para la mayori'a
de los que le escuchal)an ; pero la entonaci(')n de su acento y el ardor de
su miiada eran taies, ([ue todos estâbamos pendientes de su palabra ;
desde el recién llegado, en cuyo brazo temblaba el fusil por que el cora-
zôn le lali'a con violencia, liasta el sesudo castellano que contemplaba la
escena ; desde el gênerai hasta el ûltimo biigadero. llubo un momeuto
en que el coude de Reus soltando las bridas, levantàndose sobre los estri-
bos y abaudonândose â su elocuencia sobre el in(juieto corcel, inspirô un
sentimiento tan vivo en los circunstantes ', que todos le interrumpieron
con gritos de ; Viva el gênerai Prim ! rodeândole, agrupândose en torno
de su caballo para verle, para admirarle con verdadero carino. Verdad es
que habia sabido herir las fibras sensibles de nuestro corazon ; el recuer-
do de la patria, la gloria del ejército, la esjjcranza de la Victoria.
Los catalaues, asi recibidos, no podian portarse sino como se portaron
en la batalla del siguieiite dia, con valor heroico cuyo abolengo^ debe
buscarse en el de aquel punado de hijos del Ebro y del Ter (jue tanta
gloria su[)ieron conquistar en Gonstantinophi.
[Conlinuarà.)
Gaspar Nunez de Arce.
1. Présentes. — 8. Ascendencia, antepasados.
Amadeo de Saboya.
En el mes de Septiembre de 1868 estai l(') una rcvolucion y prevalecie-
ron las ideas democràticas. No se peusù de |)ronto en levantar un tronc,
sino en reconocer y atirmar las libertadesdel pueblo. Aun las Certes lla-
madas a constituir de nuevo el pais, si bien se decidierou por la monar-
(|uia, tardaron en realizarla.
Se nonibrt) rey el dia 16 de Noviembre de 1870, dos afios despues del
alzamienlo ', cuando habia tenido sobra de tiempo para crecer y fortale-
cerse el j)artido republicano, que â la sazon era ya entre los libérales el
1. Levanlamiento.
[21] PAKTE ESPAiNOLA
mâs iiiiineroso y el de mas empuje. A pesar de haberse ido en busca de
un monarca por casi todas las cortes de Eiiropa, no se habîa encontrado
en todo este pen'odoun principe queaceptara 6 pudieraaceptar el cargo;
que â las dilicultades de la naciôn se aùadian para ciortos caadidatos las
de la diploinacia. No habîan sido posibles ni los Braganzas, ni los
Orleanes, ni los Hohenzollerns, con lo ciiai habîan venido los niismos
hombres de Septiembre a tal fatiga y desconlianza, que nias de una vez
habian vuelto los ojos a la Repùblica, principahuente al establecerla
Francia despues de rotos por los de Prnsia sus ejércitos.
No ei'a â la verdad eiujjresa l'acil entronizar aqni' una nueva dinaslia,
no liabiendo para encabezarla ni un conipatriota de regia eslii'pe que
gozase de mucha popularidad y presligio, ni un extranjero en quien
fuesen gênerai mente reconocidas para el uiando dotes de inteligencia y
de carâcter, mucho menoscuando se le buscaba para (|ue se sobrepusiera
â los parlidos y dominara las i'acciones sin violar ni resttingir la libertad
del pensamiento. À falta de otro uiejor se detuvo al lin el Gobierno en
Amadeo de Saboya, duque de Aosta, que, elegido Rey por las Cortes,
subi() al trono el di'a t de Enerode 1871,despiïes de haber jurado guardar
y hacer guardar la Gonstitucion y las leyes.
Amadeo de Saboya era joven, si de algiui coraztui, de corto entendi-
miento. Desconocia de Espana la historia, la lengua, las instituciones, las
costumbres, los parlidos, los hombres : y no podia por sus talentos suplir
tan grave falta. Era de no muytirme carâcter. Noteni'a grandes vicios, pero
tampoco grandes virtudes : poco moderadoensus apetitos, eraaun menos
cauto en satisfacerlos. Una cualidad buena manit'esto, y lue la de no ser ni
parecer ambicioso. Mostro escaso alan por conservar su puesto : dijo
desde un principio (jue no se impondria â la naciun por la l'uerza, y lo
cnmpli('>5 pretiriendo perder la coronaâ (juebrantar sus juramentos. Esta
lealtad puede asegurarse que fué su principal virtud y la ûnica norma-
de su conducta.
No eran dotes estas para régir a un pueblo tan agitado como el nuestro.
El dia de su eleccicui habia tenido Amadeo en pro S(')lo 191 votos ; en
contra 1:20. No le querian ni los republicanos ni los carlistas, que eran
los dos grandes partidos de Espana, ni los antiguos conservadores, que
estaban por D. Allbiiso. Recibianle de mal grado los unionistas, que ha-
bîan puesto en el duque de Montpensier su esperanza, y algunos progre-
sistas, que deseaban cenir la diadema real â las sienes de Espartero. JNo le
acogi'a con entusi;ismo nadie ; y era évidente que solo un principe de
grandes prendas habria podido hacer l'rente â tantos enemigos, y ven-
ciendo en unos la indil'erencia, en otros la prevenciôn, en otrosel amor a
viejas instituciones, reunir en torno suyo y como en un haz â cuantos es-
tuviesen por la libertad y el trono.
Aun asi la tarea habn'a sido dilicil. Surgîan de la misma Gonstitucion
del Estado graves obstâculos. Los créa en todo el tiempo la contradicciôn
y la contradicciôn era alli maniliesta. Se consignaba por una parte la so-
beranîa delà naciôn, se establecia por otra la monarquia hereditaria, y
se terminaba con que por un simple acuerdo de las Gortes cabi'a reformar
la ley fundamental en todos sus articulos, sin exceptuar los relalivos â la
forma de gobierno. Ni es soberana la naciôn que viiicula en una familia
2. Lînea.
PARTE ESPaSoLA [22]
la primera y la mâs importante de las magistratiiras ; ni liereditaria, ni
siquiera vilalicia, la monarqui'a en que una Asamblea piiede alterar y
aun derogar la ley que le diû vida. feQué l'undador de dinasti'a ha de po-
der gobernar tranquilo, sobre todo en los primeros dias de su reinado,
teniendo pendiente esta espada sobre su cabeza?
llan visto muchos para el rey otra dificultad en los derechos individua-
les, entonces latos y absolutos ; pero no es comparable a la anterior, por
mâs que no cupiera suspenderloscerradaslasGortes, y por la rapidezcon
que alteran la opinion y gastan las ideas y los hombres fuesen poco 6
nada compatibles con magistraturas [)erpetuas. Un inouarca inteligente
que sepa hacerse superior â los partidos, puede, sin grande esi'uerzo,
seguir los cambios de la opini(')n con los de susconsejeros ; y en loscasos
en que verdaderamente peligrcn la libortad y el orden, tomar, aunque
sea en menoscabo '^ del derecho de algunos ciudadanos y sin el beneplâ-
cito del Parlainento, las medidas (jue lanecesidad exija : que ante la nece-
sidad enmudeciô siempre la justicia y pudieron muy poco las pasiones.
VA mal para la monarciuia estaba en que no era Amadeo hombre de gran
lemple.
Amadeo, al venir â Espana, (juiso ganar los ânimos por el valor y la
modestia. Entré en Madrid â caballo, iri'a la atnKÎsl'era, cubiertasde nieve
las calleSj caliente aun la sangre del gênerai Prim,asesinadodias antespor
su causa. Iba â la cabeza de su Estado mayorcon serena calma, mostrando
en el pueblo una conlianza que tal vez no abrigase. Rechaz(') desde luego
la vana [)ompa de los antiguos reyes. Ocupo en el Palacio un reducido
numéro de aposentos, vivio sin ostentaciiui, recibiô sin ceremonia, salii)
unos dias â caballo, otros en humildes coches, los mâs solo, y siempre
sin escolta. Prodigâbase, tal vez mâs de lo que convenia, por el deseo de
ostenlar costumbres democrâticas.
No se lo agradecia la muchedumbre, por mâs que no dejase de verlo
con alguna complacencia. La aristocracia lo volvia en menosprecio del
joven principe ; las clases médias no sabi'an si censurarlo ô a{)laudirlo.
Tanto distaban estes sencillos hâbitos de la idea aqui Ibrmada de la
monarquia y los monarcas.
Los que habïan recibido sin pre\enci:'»n la nueva dinasli'a, esperaban
principal mente de Amadeo actos (|ue revelasen prendas de gobierno.
Ilabrian querido verle poniendo desde el primer dia la mano en nuestra
viciosay corrompida Adminislraciôn 6 en nuestra desquiciada Hacienda.
Deseaban que, por lo menos, estimulase el comercio, la industria, la ins-
trucciôn, alguna de las l'uentes de la vida piiblica. Amadeo no supo
hacerlo ni sacrificar â tan noble objelo parte de su dotaciôn ni de sus
rentas, y fué de dîa en dia perdiendo. Francisco Pi y Margall.
3. Detrimento.
Las Très Ganciones
El rey Sil'rido, se hallaba en su gran sala y dijo :
«' Arpistas, ^, cual de vosotros cantarâ la mâs hermosa canciôn ?
Y, râpidamente, do la multitud sali(') un joven
Con el arpa en la mano, la espada al cinto.
* Véanse las otras cuatro iiaites.
[23j fAKTK ESPANOLA
" Yo se trescanciones : la primera,
Sin duda hace tiempo(|iie la hasolvidado ;
Tiî, traidoi'amente, inataste â mi hermano,
Si, tù le mataste traidoiamente.
La otra canciôn, yo soy qiiien la hainventado
En las tinieblas de una terrible noche de tempestad :
Conmip;o es preciso (|ue Inches â vida y a muerte,
Si, â vida y â muerte, es preciso que luches cou migo. '
Y entonces, el arpa apoyando en contra la mesa.
De sus espadas, râpidameiite, tiraron los dos,
Y largo rato, con ruido salvaje, lucharon,
Hasta que, en la gran sala, el rey cayô.
« Ahora ya piiedo cantar la tercera, la mas liermosa cancicm,
Y nunca, nunca de cantarla me cansai-é:
El rey Sifrido yace en un mar de su sangre roja,
Si, en un mar de su roja sangre, lendido esta. »
UHLANn
[Traducciôn del alemnn.)
Fin de Mes.
(Sainete lamentable que se suele representar todos los dias ultimes de
mes en la mayori'a de los hogares mesocrâticos. . . y en algunos de otra
clase mas elevada.)
Personajes que intervieneii en el sainete :
DoSa Pepjta esposa de Don Nicanor, empleado en una de las multiples oficinas que
ha inventado el hombre.
DoNA CoN^OLACiÔN, viuda y suegra.
IsABELiTA y JuANiTO, nifios de diez y once anos respeetivamente, hijos del matrimonio.
LiBRADA, criada de las que sirven para todo y ganan de salarie cuarenta reaies' al mes.
TiTÎ, un monisimo gato blanco cou iina manclia negra en la frente. El infeliz no
habla, pero maulla su infortunio con toda oportunidad.
(Época: La de ayer, la de hoy, la de mafiana. El tiempo en esta infortunada clase
média vale lo misnio en présente que en pretérito 6 futuro. Lugarde la acclôn : En
Madrid y en un cuarto melancôlicamente triste, sordidamente amueblado,de una casita
situada en una de esas calles de travesia, en las cnales, el paso de un coche hace que
se asomen todos los vecinos.)
Escena primera
Do.NA PeCITA, LlBRADA T TlT\.
(Los personajes citados se encuentran en la cocina : el gato ronroiiea en derredor de su
ama con todo el afân de un hamhiiento que olfatea un manjar.)
UONA rEPn'A. (Saca de la monumental cesta en que Librada trae la compia unas pil-
trafas - que quieren ser un cuarto de kilo de carne.) (Con enfado.) — Librada, '(. que
trae usted aqui?
Librada. — La carne del cocido, senorita.
Do.\A Pépita. — Pero inujer, i diuide tiene usted los ojos?. . .
Librada. (imperturbable.) — En la cara, senorita.
.Do.NA Pépita. — Mâs valiese quegiiardara usted sus descaros para hacer
mejor la compra E«:ta no es cirne pira que la coman personas. . .,
1. Mn real, veinticinco céntimos. — 2. Carne en la que casi todo es pellejo.
PARTE ESPANOLA |24|
j ni aiin los perros ! ^, Por que ha trai'do usted esto, vamos a ver,
por que lo ha trai'do ?
LiBRADA. (Que escucha el récipe ■' con los ojos muy abiertos, como aisombrados.) (Con
voz que liene un sentido ironico, inalicioso.) — ComO aUOChe UO me diô USted
dinero para la compra, el senor Dimas, el carnicero, me lo ha dado tiado
como acostumbra â dârmelo a fines de mes .... j Y no es cosa de que
se enfade una encima de no dar los cnartos !
DONA Pépita. (Mordléndose los labios y encendiéndoselc la cara de rubor.) — Estâ
bien. (Sacandode la cesta un par de piltrafas.) — PerO mujer, ^CUântO hlgado le
trae usted hoy al gato?
LiBRADA. — Cinco céntimos.
DoNA PEPrrA. — Siemprese le traen diez.
LiBBADA. — Como a ùltimosdel mes pasado usted me dijo que lacomida
de Titî era un gasto supérlUio, pues le he acortado la raci()n. . . . Asî habrâ
que pagarle menos. . . .
DoNA Pépita. — ; No le faltan a usted salidas, mujer ! ^, Ha trai'do
usted el bizcocho para la senora ?
LiBRADA. — Hetrai'douna francesilla % (jue da lomismo; por que como
en la dulceria ■' hay amo nuevo, no me atrevo â pedir tiado j Si fuera
pan !
TiTl. — (Maulla protestando furioso de la ignominiosa merma que ha sufrido su coli-
diana raciôn.)
DoNA Pépita. (Acariciando al protestante.) — j Galla, Titi, calla !. Lueg'O te
daremos las sobras del cocido.
LiBRADA. (Con insolente iroiiia.) — j Me parcce que si uo tienes otra cosa !
Do.NA Pépita, (Herlda en lo vivo de su dignidad.) — ^ Qué dice USted ?
LiBRADA. — No he dicho nada... pero se me olvidaba lo mâs principal.
Por la sortija no quieren darme mâs que tresduros. Dicenqiie es oroale-
màii, y que las piedras son falsas.
DoNA Pépita. — El mes pasado le dieron â iisted cinco dnros y no le
dijeron nada del oro ni de las piedras.
LiBRADA. (Con sorna.) — No me dijeroii, por(]uc bien dijo quien dijo que
el amor es ciego.
DoNA Pépita. (Sorprendida.) — ^ Qué dice usted '!
LiBRADA. — Nada,(|ue encontre â un paisano mio(iue mecortejaba,y...
DoNA Pépita. — ;, Qué ?
LiBRADA. — Nada malo, senorita. Perocomo yonoloquise,estâ enfadado
conmigo.
I)o.>A Pépita. — ^, Y hora le saca l'ai tas â la sortija ?. . .
LiBRADA. (Con vanidosa satisfaccion .) — i ComO â mi UO pucdc SacârmclaS !
DoNA Pépita. — Hiieno, btieno ; prépare e! chocolaté â la senora y el
almiierzo del senoiito, que yo les daré cl desayuno â losninos.
LiBRADA. — Bueno, senorita — ;. Frio uno ô dos huevos ?
Du.fVA PEPrPA. — j Lo de siompre ! . .. . Es decir, hoy y nianana, IVia
usted uno solo. (Continiinrà.)
Alejandro LARituniERA.
3. Kepiimendu. — 4. P;in pequefio. — 5. Confiteria (popular).
Les Cinq Langues
N° 2.
20 Octobre 1907.
8° Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
Desdichas Providenciales.
Nuestro amigo — que amigo va â ser durante (liez minutes — enipezaba à
encanecer K Los hilillos de plata ihan desdorando el oi'O de su cabellera y de
su barba. Lo miraba con tris-
Icza, poniue sabla que con
esus bilos se comienza â tejer
la blanca mortaja del liom-
bre. Y para el nuestro era
mu y triste despedii-se de la
vida, que él hnbia pasado
todo lo buenamenle que se
puede pasar en este desgo-
bernado planeta. Poseia ri-
queza, salud,. jovialidad ;
très médias felicidades que,
SLimadas, componen felicidad
y média. La salud hace gozar
de la riqueza, y ambas, man-
tienen la alegria en los âni-
mos nienos propicios â ella.
Con las canas nacen los achaqiies, y entonces sobra la riqueza, por
inùtil, y falta la alegria, porque los padecimientos y las desilusiones la
ahuyentan. El hombre era regalôn y goloso ; pero i que haria con las golo-
sinas y regalos, no teniendo dientes para masticar ni estômago para digerir ?
Era dormilôn, y dormia en cama blanda y lujosa ; pero /. que liciria para
dormir cuando la gota le punzara en ei lecho de plumas eonvirliendolo en
lecbo de espinas ?
Era mundano ; pero <, que placeras le daria la sociedad cuando la hilis del
higado le agriara el liumor ?
Atligido por estos presagios - ciertos, el hombre se fué â su oratorio y,
rodilla en lierra y brazos en cruz, rezô, si es rezar el pedir mercedes ^ y
beneflcios terrenales.
— Senor, he sido siempre devoto — y en verdad era mâs devoto que cre-
yente ; — concédeme por premio una vejez sana, cémoda, sin dolores en el
cuerpo ni melancolias en el aima. Ya que la vejez es inévitable, evitame â
lo menos los maies que la acompanan. Si me lo concèdes, te erigiré altares,
losUenaré de flores y luces, tantas flores y luces como tû pongas en mi vida.
Y cuando la acabe, moriré bendiciéndote y resignado, y mâs que resignado,
coutenlo de que dispongas de ella, ya la certes, ya la alargues, segùn tus altos
designios y sabia voluntad.
1. Ponerse cano. — 2. Augurios. — 3. Gracias.
[9]
ESPAti. 2
10 PARTE KSPAWOLA [66]
La de Dios le otorgô lo que pcdia.
El honibre Tué viejo, pero no sintiô ni padeciô la vejez. Las canas cubrie-
ron su cabeza. Pero mâs que pavesas ^ de fuego apagado, eran como ceniza
que resguai'da y abriga el rescoldo ^ del brasero. El viejo conservaba su ape-
tito, gozaba de losplaceres de la mesa, comia y bebia sin moleslia del estô-
mago, andaba sin cansancio, dormia sin interrupciones, respiraba sin ahogo.
Sa mirada era vivida, vividos sus pensamientos y sus esperanzas, como si
tiiviera por delante muchos anos para cumplirlas. Viejo, por la partida de
nacimiento ; joven en la vida, por los sentidos corporales y las potencias
espiriluales.
Aââdanse â ello las comodidades de la riqueza, las ventajas de la posiciôn
social, y se veràal hombre satisfecho y enamorado de la existencia.
^Por que, pues, cl viejo sanose cuidaba como un enfermo, y consultaba
diariamente con el médico, y se arropaba " mâs de lo necesario, y média y
tasaba sus comidas, siempre intranquilo \ azorado, como si la muerle se
le viniera encima? ^.Es que le asustaba la muerte? Quizâ no ; pero cierlo que
le acongojaba " dejar la vida. Podria ser muy buena la futura, pero él se
contenlaba modestamente con la terrenal. jlncauto viejo engaàado por su
misma fortuna! jCon que compasiôn, no libre de soberbia, conteniplaba â
aquel otro anciano, su vecino, â quien encontraba todos los dias, puesto al
sol como para secarse pronto, en el poyo ^ de la plaza! El buen hombre
habia dejado correr su vida tal como Dios quiso dârsela y sin pedirle que
alterara para él la ley de la Naturaleza. Fué joven y aprovechô su juventud ;
lue gallardo y aprovechô su gallardia ; fué rico y aprovechô su riqueza, y
gozô de ella y con ella tan demasiadamente, que la consumiô antes de con-
sumir su gallardia y su juveiUud.
Ahora vivia en la pobreza y con el amargor que déjà el bieneslar perdido.
Mas ^,para que querria ni le serviria la pasada opulencia? ;.Para comer golo-
samenle? No; el estômago deshecho no le consentia barluras ni casi alimen-
taciôn, ni el paladar enmohecido le permitia el saboreo. La dieta era un
bien forzoso. Hasta sus miseras sopas le hacian dafio.
Sus ojos, medio cegados, no distinguian ya lo feo de lo hermoso. Todo
eran bultos informes sin color determinado. Las manos carecian de tacto,
las piernas estaban trabadas por el reiima como por pesados grilletes ^.
Laedad, venccdora de las vidas, vencedora que paga sus victoriasmuriendo
con su vencido ; la edad cruel que mallrata â los que parece acariciar con su
abrazo ; la edad deseada que responde â nueslros deseos con sus injurias,
habia hecho sus estragos en la carne y en el espiritu del desdichado. Ago-
biâbanle dolenclas del cuerpo y dolencias del aima, melancolia perpétua y
tedio constante, un dolor nucvo cada dia, un mal siieno cada noche, un dis-
gusto cada hora. Ruina pi'opia, abandono y olvido de los ajenos. Todo ad-
verso y sin esperanza de i-emediai-lo. El tiempo consumô su obra inévitable,
y ambos viejos acabaron de ser vicjos. Mudàronse à la région donde losaûos
no se cuentan, porque son iguales, y ni enipiezan ni tei'minaii : el instante
cterno. Comparecidos antc Uios, se le quejaron : el acliacoso, de su inala
vejez ; el feliz, de la mala muerte que le habia dado.
— Debéis estar agradccidos antes que quejosos de mi. El uno, porque le
otorgué ^° lo que me pidiô ; el otro, porque muriô sin pesar.
— Fero yo. Schor, he muerto desesperado.
— Tû lo quisiste. Has visto llegar la muerte como un infortunio, mientras
lu compahero la ha visto acercarse como el tin de sus maies. Los alegres
mueren tristes ; los tristes mueren, sino alegres, resignados. Es una com-
pensaciôn que mi justicia dépara â los mortales. No tratéis de enmendar mis
4. Particula que salta de una materia inilamada y se convierte en seguida en ce-
niza. — 5. Brasa menuda resguardada por la ceniza. — G. Abrigaba. — 7. Afiigia. —
8. Banco de piedra. — 9. Cadenas. — 10. Concedî.
[67] PAKTE ESPANOLA 11
obras ; las tenyo dispiieslas sal»iaiiiente. Es error quejarse de las afliccioncs
de la vejoz. Guantas inâs padezcâis, nias perderéis el carino à la tierra y
estai'éis mejor preparados para dejarla. El arte de la vida consisle en
vivirla bien y con lelicidades en la jiiventud, y mal y con doloi-es en la
cadiicidad. Quicn habita cémodamente en un palacio, Uora al abandonarlo ;
quien pena^^ en un presidio, no se dnele de salir de cl.
Eugenio Sellks.
(De la Real Acadeniia Espaùola).
H. Sufre.
El Amigo Mar.
Amigo mar, jpor fin te has qiiedado lil)re... ! ;.Viste aquella muchedum-
bre de seres encanijados, enfermos, clonUicos, que acudio por cl verano
â hiindirseen tus olas ? Se marcharon todos. ^.Viste aquella muchedum-
bre de seres vanos, ataviadoscon las iiltimas tonten'as de la moda ? Tarn-
bien se han ido. Y quedas otra vez solo, i oh ! inmenso y magnifico mar,
solo con tus vMentos, tus olas, tus tempestades.
Cayeron sobre ti como eu un Jordan puriticador. Traian el calor y el
sudor de la llanura, el tedio de las grandes ciudades, la corteza récalci-
trante de un pueblo (jue se lava muy someramente : â ti acudieron, â tus
pilleras aguàs, buscandola limpieza y lasalud, y tii has raspado suscuer-
pos y tonificado su sangre con una piedad paternal. EUos se van â prose-
gair su vida llena de maculas, y tu te quedas solo, grande y magnifico,
libre de aquella multilud vocinglera^ y raquitica.
Se han ido ya los poli'ticos, a(juellos que nos trajeron sus chismogra-
fias cortesanas y nos ainargaron los dias estivales con sus revelaciones que
â nadie importaban; se han ido los jovenzuelos élégantes, las damitas,
los toreros, toda la multitud l'rivola y burbujeante^ Todo lo que era vani-
dad, relumbr()n, ruidohueco. todo se ha ido. Y mâs grande, mâs sublime
que nunca, tu te hasquedado libre y solo, espléndido mar Cantâbrico.
En cuaoto sonaron los primeros vienlos del otono, aquella muchedum-
bre ligera se escapo ; no era digna de vivir dentro de los vendavales del
equinoccio. Aquella muchedumbre necesitaba del sol caliente y de la
brisa suave, como las débiles plantas de invernadero. En cambio, â ti te
gustan, amigo mar, esos otros di'as plagados de nubarrones', en que el
viento muge espantosamente y en que las montafias parecen avanzar hacia
ti como negros y graves monstruos.
Me pareces ahora mas joven, màs pujante, mâs movido, estimulado
por los l'uerles vientos equinocciales. Te he visto mâs hinchado, mâs
espumoso, con olas mâs grandes ; una alegria salvaje y rol)usta parece
conmoverte en las mismas entranas. j Ya ères libre otra vez ! ^a no tie-
nes que halagar ni limpiar ni raspar cuerpos débiles y frivolos y canijos ;
lasplayas te pertenecen en absoluto ; ères rey de los acantilados, senor
de los horizontes. Y en lugar de mecer delicadamente unos barquitos
nimios *y unas balandras quebradizas, ahora llevas en tu lomo grandes y
fuertes barcos, negros vapores que humean, navios dignos de ti, valero-
sos navios en cuyas bordas puedes estrellar tus olas con holgura, sin
1. Chillona. — 2. Que hierve, se agita. — 3. Grandes nubes. — 4. Muy pequeîïos.
12 PARIE ESPANOLA [68]
tenior de que se resquebrajer). V en vez de Ilevar damitas temerosas y
caballeros ociosos, llevas aliora homlM-es curtidos, mercaderias, barras de
hierro y bloques de carbcm. Yuclves a ser el mar recio y uiasculino del
invierno ; ahora es cuando te reconozco y te amo, viejo amigo mîo. A la
luz del sol otonal te veo extenderte hasta el horizonte brumoso ; junto â
la Costa rompes tus olas en las pefias ^ y las deshaces en montes de es-
puma ; juegas con las ancianas rocas ; las cubres y las haces teniblar, y
grunes conio un animal inmenso que se divierte. Y cuando el viento
aglomera las obscuras niibes, cuando el viento llega rugiendoy silbando,
tu desdoblas las olas lanzadas â todo escape, parecidas â escuadrones impe-
tuosos.. .
Viejo mar, amigo mio, te bas quedado solo. Ahora es cuando te amo y
admiro mas, cubiertode espuma, ornado denubes y tempestades, cenido
por un cinturôn de montaiias. Te amo y admiro, â ti', que eresejemplo de
fortaleza y de cosa indomable, la cosa mas amarga é indomable y pro-
funda que hay en la creaci('>n después del hombre.
.1. M. Salaverrîa.
5. Rocas.
La toma de Tetuàn {Continuaciôn).
La vispera del ï de febrero pasâmosia todos escribiendo â nuestras la-
milias, y dispoiiiéndonos para el tremendo choque que debi'a haber al
di'a siguiente.
Amanecio por iin este nublado y frîo. A la hora acostumbrada tocôse
la diana ; los soldados batieron tiendas ; encendiéronse hogueras que
aparecian <> desaparecian, segûn apretaba ô calmaba la lluvia intermi-
tente y tina que empezô à caer ; organizaronse los batallones, y â las
siete y média todo el ejército; menos el cuerpo mandado por el desgra-
ciado gênerai Ui'os (pie quedo guardando la formidable posici()n de la
Estrella, se puso en marcha acompasadamentehacia el campamento ene-
migo. El gênerai Prim avanzaba por la derecha yel gênerai Ros de Olano
por la iz(piierda. El condede Lucena habi'a preparadoel movimiento con
tanto arte y estudio, ([ue las dos divisiones se daban, por decirlo asi, la
mano, resguardândose mùtuamente de todo peligro. Iba delante nuestra
valerosa artilleri'a, penetrando sin temor ni vacilaciiin en el pantanoso
valle que se extiende abierto hacia Tetuân. Habia un no se que de so-
lemne y majestuoso en la marcha del ejército: los batallones caminaban
en silencio, y no se oia en todo el valle sino el pavoroso estrépito del
cafitMi. Todo el mundo, générales, jefes y soldados parecian preocupados
por la idea de la empresa â que debîan dar tan feliz término ; lodos esta-
ban é la altura de la situaci()n, imponente, grandiosa, digna en lin de
nuestra queridaEspana. Ni un tiro de carabina disparado antes de tieinpo,
ni un momento de confusi('>n é incertidumbre en la hora suprema del
combate ; en todo el mayor concierto, el mayor ordeu, la mayor disci-
plina, j Que dignos se hicioron nuestros soldados entonces de que la
patria tejiera para ellos una corona de inmarcesibles laureles !
La artilleri'a avanzaba, como he dicho, siempre estrechando en un ci'r-
[69j PARTK ESPANOLA 13
ciilo de hronce las triticheras enemigas y despreciando el iintrido fuego
con que las baterias contrarias contestaban à sus disparos. Todos segui'a-
mos conreligioso respeto la arriesgada operaciôn delà artillen'a, sin sépa-
rai* los ojosde lasiiiinensas espirales de hiiino, ni del siLio que ocupaban
loscanoùes, ni del campamento marroqul que distinguiaaios ccrca, dondo
caian todas las granadas sin que se desperdiciase iina sola, reventando
con temeroso ruido y estrago.
De pronto un grito se escapa de todos los laljios ; todas las niiradas se
fijan en unpuntoen nna inmensa humareda, que brotade repente, crece,
se ensancha y se éleva hasta contundirse con las nubes ; es una grauada
que cayendo sobre los barriles de pijlvora almacenados por el enemigo
para el servicio de las baterias, ha estallado esparciendo en todas direc-
ciones el espanto, ladesolaci(>n y la muerte. No desmayan ^ anteestatre-
menda desgracia nuestros contrarios; antes parecen resistir con mâs
valor y empeno al fuego de nuestros canones. Luchan sin amilanarse "-,
sin que el espîritu decaiga, aun cuando el cîrculo de fuego se estrecha
cada vez mâs, aun cuando ven detràs de nuestras baterîas, va casi a tiro
de fusil de las suyas, caininar silenciosamente grandes masas de infante-
rîa, amenezadoras, fieras, prontas â caer como el rayo sobre las trinche-
ras que formidablemente cercan todo el campamento.
Poco después el fuego del can(')n se interrumpe ; reina un momentode
sublime calma, momento de recogimiento solemne en que el hombre,
proximo al peligro, se acuerda de todo, quizâpor ûltima vez ; de su Dios,
de su patria, y de su familia : las cornetasy mùsicas tocan paso de ataque,
y. las tropas con la bayoneta calada, al grito de j Viva Espana ! ; Viva la
Reina !, escalan trincheras por entre el fuego de la arlilleria enemiga. El
gênerai Prim pénétra en el campamento moro por una trônera, siguién-
dole sus soldados ébrios de entusiasmo y los animosos catalanes, cuyo
glorioso estreno en la guerra de Africa debe llenar de légitime orguUo
a la belicosa tierra en que han uacido.
{Co7itiniiarn.)
Gaspar Nunez de Arce.
9. Desaniman. — 10. Acobardarse.
Tio Narciso.
La vida y aventuras del Tio Narciso, hijo del barrio de Tiiaiia', serian
largasde contar. Aun cuando su principal oficio era el de herrero, uo
ignoraba el modo de fundir una campana, de hacer un carro ô de picar
la piedra de un molino. Durante su mocedad- habia navegado en buques
de guerra y permanecido ocho meses en el presidio deGranada, à causa
de ciertas cicatrices que senalé en la cara de un macareno' cou quien
tuvo algunas palabras.
Si el Tfo Narciso, fuerte como un roble y trabajador incansable,
hubiera sido prudente y econ(')mico en su mocedad, no se hubiese visto en
la vejez enfernio, pobre y desamparado. A los sesenta anos lo dominaba
una gastritis, produciéndole un humor endiablado con arrebatos de ira.
1. Barrio de Sevilla. — 2. Juveiitiid. — 3. Ualadrôn.
14 PARTE KSPANOLA [70|
Pero toda su misantropia, sus penas y hasta sus dolores fisicos, desapa-
recian en cuantoentraba en su misérable habitacion la senora iMarquesa,
encargadade llevarle abundantesocorrode laConferencia de San Vicente
de Paul.
La dicha Marquesa era una santa, si ha\ santos eu la tierra. Entre el
Ti'o Narciso, duro, âspero, negro y fornido, y la Marquesa delgada, pâlida,
débil y rubia, mediaba la diferencia que va de la t(3rtola al buitre. V sin
embargo, por la ley de los contrastes, era cordial y mutuo el afecto y
carifio que el buitre y la tcu'tola se prol'esaban.
— j Ay, senora Marquesa, yo debia morirme pronto . . . . ! Yo no sirvo
masque para molestarla haciéndola subir escaleras y atravesarobscuros
corredores hasta llegar â mi pobre cuartucho^ ... Yo, tan àgil y robusto
en otros tiempos, estoy sin poder moverme
— Animo — le contestaba la Marquesa ; — no hay que desear la muerte ;
usted es fuerte y se poudra bueuoantes de la primavera ; entonces entrarâ
usted â servir el tranquilo empleo que desea en la ferreteria, y todo
sera felicidad y ventura.
Y al Ti'o Narciso se le anudaba la garganta al escuchar taies palabras, y
cogiendo la mano de la Manjucsa la cubria de besos y la bafiaba con
lâgrimas.
Un di'a la Marquesa lleg('> à su casa con el carrillo^ y ojo izquierdo acar-
denalados'', â causa, dijo, del terril)le golpe que recibiô en la puerta del
obscuro pasillo de la vivienda del Tio Narciso.
Con la oportuna aplicaciôn de sanguijuelas y otros medicamentos, â
los quince dias de cama pudo ya la l)uena senora levantarse y salir â la
calle cou venda en el rostro y espejuelos de cristal verde.
Eu la primera junta de la Conl'erencia manilesti) la Pi'esideuta (|ue se
dalta de baja, entre los enfermes necesitados de socorro, al Ti'o Narciso.
— l. Se ha puesto bueno f . . . — preguntc) con interés muy grande la
Marquesa.
— No, senora : al contrario ; se le ha trastornado el juicio, y, como
es tan forz.udo, acometi'a ;i los vecinos que entraban en su habitacion, y
aun à las seiioras que iban â socorrerlo. Pero, querida Marquesa, — con-
tinué diciendo la presidenta ; — j que cara de pascuas" se le ha puesto â
usted ! Gualquiera diri'a que se com place de la locura de nuestro pobre
enfermo
— No, no me alegro, — ball)uci6 la .\hir(|uesa algo abochornada y vaci-
lante; — lo que hago es compreuder la raz(')u de que la iiltima vez que
lo visité, me aplicara, sin causa ni motivo para ello, la tremenda boi'e-
tada cuvas senales tengo todavi'a en mi cara.
El suceso que dejo apuntado es rigurosamente verdadero. La linica
parte que tiene mentirosa es la de haber llamado Marquesa â la senora
de la historia, la cual es una Condesa de antigua y nobili'sima estirpe, à
(juien hace muchos anos que admira, quiere y respeta
El Doctor Thebussem.
4. Habitacion pobre y mal acondicionada. — S. Parte carnosa de la cara. — fi.
lleno de cardenales. — 7. Gara muy alegre.
[71] PARTE ESPANOLA 15
Fin de Mes iContinuaciôn}
Escena II.
Dois A CoNSOLACiÔN, LiBRADA, poco después Don Nicanor : Dona Pépita,
JUANITO é IsABELITA.
DONA GONSOLACI()N. (Desde la cama, en donde la tiene postrada un perlinaz" reùma.)
(A voces al percatarse de que el bizocho se ha trooado " en una vulgar francesilla.) FerO
■^ que me trae aqui? i^ No sabe que no tengo dentadura '! . . ^ C()mo
voy a masticar yo esto ? Pero <, y uii bizcocho '? . . . ;.. Dônde esta mi
bizcocho '! . . .
LlBRADA (Un tando enfadada.) — SeflOra, todo CSC Se lo CUCllta â la seÙG-
rita 6 a su hijo(La fàmuia\ gruiiendo aigo asi como : « j El demonio de la vieja
esta tan exigente ! ... », se retira a la cocina en donde Titl maya su liambre à todo
pulinôn . )
Dqna Consolack'kn. i Pues ahi se queda cl desayuno ! . . j No lo tomo !
... Y si iTie muei'O de del)ilidad, que me muera . . Para lo (|ue sirve
una va en el mundo y para el caso que le hacen â una. (van in crescendo^
la rubia y la voz â niedida que avanza el soliloquio.i ; Y estO Se lo liaceu à. SU
madré ! j A mi ! . . . jA mf, que me he desvivido por criarle, por hacerle
hombre !.. j Si me esta bien empleado todo esto ! . . . Pero la culpa
no es de él . . . . , es de ella, de esa liipucrita, de esa lagartona de mujer
que tieiie, que le domina por complet© ... j Estoy segurfsima de que le
ha dicho à la muchacha que me trajese un pan Irancés, para ver si no
comiendo yoel pan se aliorra el desayuno . . . . j Pero no ha de salirse con
la suya,no. no sefior ! ... (Gritando chiiiona y agriamente.) \ Nicanor ! ... i Nica-
nor ! . . . . (En el pasillo resuenen pasos precipitados : en la puerta se destaca la figura de
Don Nicanor en mangas de camisa, con la mitad del rostro cubierLo de espunia jabonosa y
la otra mitad rasurada '".)
Don Nicanor. — ^, Que quieres, mamâ ?
DoSa Cgnsolaciûn. — i Esto es inicuo ! . . . . i Esto no se hacecon una
madré como yo t . . . j Como yo !
Don Nicanor. — Pero ^ que es ello, mamâ ?^, Que se te ha hecho "?
Dona CoNS0LACl6N.(Tràgica sefialando el plalo). — j Mira ! . ...
(DoNA Pépita, Juanito é Isabeltta Ios dos iiltimos mascujamli) una sopa ('e chocolaté,
rodean à I)on Nicanor.
Don NrCANOR. (Encogiéndose de hombros. conio qnien no acierta nna chara<la.) —
Miro ... ^ y que?
Dona Gonsolaciôn. — ^,No ves lo que hacen conmigo '! ;, Cou tu madré 1
j Tan ciego estas, hijo mi'o ! . . . . Pregùntale, pregûntale â tu miijercita.
(Esto dicho con la intenciôn de quien quisiera convertir la lengua propia en un punal.)
DoNA Pépita. — Si ; yo te lo dire, hombre. Tu madré echa de inenos
el bizcocho que le traemos siempre y que hoy se le ha cambiado por
una francesilla . .
Don NicANOR. — ^ Y por que el cambio ? . . .
Dona Pépita. — Porque .... estamos à lin de mes .... y en la conli-
terîa no lefîan â la muchacha.
Dona Gonsolaciôn. (Gruïïendo.) —Excusas . . ., nada masque excusas.
6. Persistente. — 7. Cambiado. — S. Criada. — 9. En aumento. — 10. Afeitada.
16
PARTE ESPANOLA
[72]
IsABRLiTA. — i Anda, anda, al)iielita ! j Y te quejas por que te dan pan
francés para el desayuno ! . . .
JUANITO. (Gompletando la frase de la hermanita.) — PueS ; qué dil'l'a, ahue-
lita, si le diesen, como a nosotros, pan duro de libreta !
DONA Pépita. (Arrasados de là<;rimas los ojos.) — Callad, niftOS.
DonNicainor. — Madré, hégase cargo de lo que ha dicho Pépita ....
DoNA Pépita, fcon acento de reproche.) — Si, seùora ; hâgase cargo de lo
que la he dicho . . ., de que estamosâ fines de mes
{Conduira.)
Alejandro Larrubiera.
A la Luna*.
j Oh ! Inna graciosa ; recuerdo que hace un ano subîa â esta colina
para contemplarte lleno de angustia Y entonces conio ahoi'a te cernias
sobre este bosque que iluminas completamente. Pero, tu rostro se apare-
cîa entre nubes â mis ojos en cuyas pestaiïas teniblaban las h'igrimas,
porque mi vida era triste y dolorida como aliora es, puesto que no ha
cambiado, i oh \, mi luna amada. Sin embargo, me gusta recordarlo y
calcular la edad de mi dolor. i Gudn dulce es en los tiempos juvéniles
en que la carrera de la esperanza todavia es larga y la de la niemoria
todavfa corta, pensar en las cosas pasadas aunque sean tristes y aunque
el pesar dure a un !
Giacomo Leopardi. (1798-1837.)
* Véanse las otras cuatro partes.
La Codorniz.
Presa en estrecho lazo
ba Codorniz sencilla
Daba quejas al aire
Ya tarde arrepentida.
i Ay de mi misérable,
Infeliz avecilia \
Que an tes cantaba lil)re,
Y ya lloro caiitiva ! -
Perdi mi nido amado,
Perdi en él mis delicias ;
Al fin perdilo todo,
Pues que perdi la vida.
;. Por que desdicha tanta ?
;, Por que tanta desdicha?
Por un grano de trigo :
i Oh cara golosina !
i El apetilo ciego
A cuântos précipita
Que, por lograr un nada,
Un todo saciifican !
Samamiego.
1. Diminutivo de ave.
2. Prisionera.
Les Cinq Langues
N" 3.
5 Novembre 1907.
8^ Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
Inundaciôn en Mâlaga.
Una crônica de 1661.
Imagineseel lector transponado ' alsigloXVIT, y figiirose que esta loyondo
lin pcriôdico del afio de 1661. Fâcilmente iniaginarà que el periôdico lleva
por titulo Relaciôn o Gazeta de algunos casos particnlares, asi polîticos como
(bei ualural.
Casas de la Pescadeiia deslruidas por la corriente.
militares, sucedidos en la mayor parte del mundo, y que es el que entonces
empezaba â publicarse en Madrid, impresopor Jiiliân de Paredes.
Tal vez en la vénérable Relaciôn ô gazeta encontrase un epigrafe de dolo-
rosa actualidad, Inundaciôn e^i la ciudad de Mâlaga, que atrajese su atenciôn
desde luego. Y pudiera en tal caso leer una extensa resefia hecha por Mateo
Lôpez Hidalgo, impresor de la Santa Iglesia Catedral de Mâlaga, refiriendo
con minuciosos detalles un tremendo diluvio que descargô en la bellisima
poblacion andaluza, « obrando - etectos tan inaudilos, que el màs atinado
discurso qucdara sin el de considerar la violencia que trajeron sus aguas,
pues en seis horas, poco mâs, dejara esta ciudad asolada y sin esperanza de
volverse â ver en la opulencia en que se hallô una hora antes que sucediese ;
cuyo asorabroso espectâculo, cuyo suceso trâgico, fué de esta suerte».
1. Traslaclado. — 2. l^roiiuciendo.
J5J
KSPAG. 3
18 PARTb; ESPANOLA [114]
Tras iiiia pei-sisLciile lliivia caidael 21 desepticmbre do [&>^l, « al siguiente
dia, jiieves 22, cerca de las ocho, comenzo iina tormenla de ti-iienos que ate
rnorizù los ânimos, y con esta un agua tan recia ^ que parecia que Dios que-
ria hnndir la tierra con otro diluvio, que si no lo tué gênerai, lo tuvo parti-
cular Màlaga ; duré este rlgor continuando por seis horas, hasta las dos delà
tarde, poco nias ».
Grecido por el énorme caudal de agua llovediza que resbalalia entorrentes
por la vertiente del Norle y por el arroyo del Cuarto, al Poniente, el manso'^
(iuadalmedina, rio que en Mâlaga divide la ciudad del burgo, cuyas aguas
no son permanentes, con lo que mâs del ano esta sin ellas, transformôse en
imponente aluviôn .
Invadiô primero el barrio de la Goleta y la huerta de las Monjas, demo-
liendo las casas y ahogando â sus moradores. Asaltô en seguida al convenlo
de San Luis, arrastrando asi los objetos del culto, como los viveres de la
comunidad, y de alli pasô â las calles de Viento, de la Grama y del Aceite,
pasadizo de Malaber y demâs de aquel barrio, anegândolas y demoliéndolas.
« Llegô luego â la Puente, y esplayândose ° por la calle de la Santa Trini-
dad, anegô todo su barrio, con pérdida de miichas vidas y haciendas. •> Los
vecinos de esa calle y los de la de los Màrmoles, igualmente invadida, lialla
ron refugio en el convento de la Trinidad, enclavado en lugar eminente.
El puente, de madera, fué deshecho y arrancados de raiz sus eslribos de
canteria. Cuando el agua bajô, solo se reconocian los sitios de las calles
inmediatas por el empedrado.
El barrio de los Percheles sufrié igual suerte. El puente de Santo Domingo,
que fué fâbrica ^ de gentiles y que su antigiicdad es de mâs de mil anos antes
de que Gristo naciese, fué desbaratado ; con él cayeron dos torres que guar-
daban su paso, y envuellas en las ruinas^ innumcrables personas que, fiadas
en la solidez de la secular fàbrica, alli habianse refugiado y contemplaban el
désastre creyéndose en salvo. . .
El convento de Santo Domingo sufriô grandes daûos tanibién. En tanto, el
ai-royo del Cuarto venia crccidisimo por el lado derecho del Garmen Des-
calzo, y anegaba las calles de Cerezuela, callejones de San Andrés y las
lîuertas del Ferchel ; las vertientes de la Victoria inundaban toda su calle
ancha y el Ilospital de Santa Ana, y rompiendo la muralla penetraban en la
iglesia de Santiago, y luego se dispersaban, bajando nnas por la calle de
Granada, Plaza Mayoi-, calles del Toril y Nueva à las Pucrtas del Mar y de la
Esparleria, y corriéndose otras por la calle de los Àlamos y Garreteria, muro
de San Francisco y barrio de la puerta de Ante(iuera hasta caer todas en el
(iuadalmedina, tras de arrasar la ciudad entera. . .
En la embocadura del Guadalmcdina « la mucha maleza que llevaba: ma-
dcras, fagina, troncos de àrboles, barro, piedras, cascajo y otros materiales,
hizo un niuelle firme de mas de 300 pasos de longitudy ocho varas de ancho
por donde (al tiempo que esto se escribe), se puede andar con toda seguridad,
y duraràmuchos meses si algi'm grande Levante no lo demuele y desbarata ».
Los destrozos fueron increibles, inmensos. Los episodios de la inundacién,
terribles... Guentase que algunas personas se salvaron en arcas que deriva-
ron al mar. . . « Una doncella fué nadando en una puerta y la hallaron viva,
de alli â très dias, en la mar, unos marineros. Prodigios se vieron taies, que
referidos se hacen increibles. »
Eran â la sazôn obispo de Màlaga Don Antonio de Pina y Hermosa ; corre-
gidor. Don Alvaro Queypo de Llano, conde de ïoreno ; alcalde mayor. Don
Gaspar Pâez de Harrionuevo, y ellos, con el duque de ïursis, el marqués de
Bayona, y el Senor .luaiielin de Oria, almirantes y gênerai de las galeras de
Espana y Sicilia, respectivamente, y no pocos clérigos y particulares, soco-
3. Fuerte. — ^. Tranquilo, apacible. — 5. Extendiéndose. — (1. Obra.
[115] PARTE Est ANOLA 19
rrieron eficazmente h los damnificados ■> y con riasi^o de sus personas y con
los medios de que disponian contribuyeron â remediar el mal,
« La pérdida que ha tenido esta ciudad, — concluye la reseîïa, — los mâs
atinados juicios la han valuado en seis millones de ducados... Las casas
que se han caido son mâs de mil seiscientas, y las atormentadas très mil.
Los que se han ahogado, mâs de très mil, cuyos cuerpos, muchos, va
arrojando el maren las orillas de esta costa. »
^. No ofrece este relato pasmosa ^ semejanzacon el que dias pasados dieron
los periddicos del mundo entero? Supuesto que la antigua Relacibn 6 gazeta
citada Inibiese insertado la resena cuyo exlracto anlecede, el lector, salvando
detalk's, no hubiese sabido si leia la de la innndariôn del 22 de septembre
de 1661 6 la del 24 de septiembre de 1907
El origen fué el misnio ; la evoluciôn de la catâstrofe, idénli('a... Deplo-
rémosla sinceramente y deploremos â la vez que doscienlos cuarenta y seis
anos no hayan bastado para la realizaciôn de uiia obra de ingenieria que,
desviando el cauce del Guadalmedina, alejase loda probabilidad de que la
tragedia se repitieso.
Yhagamos votos, en fin, porque la nueva y dolorosa leccion sea eficaz ;
que ningûn cronista del siglo XXIII pueda evocar las relatos contemporâ-
neos en las condiciones que nosotros hemos recordado el que en el siglo
XVll hizo Mateo Lôpez Hidalgo.
I. Sanchez Esteban.
7. Perjudîcados. — 8. Asombrosa.
La Misa de los Muertos.
i Que leycnda tan bella la que encontre en una colecciôn de algunas muy
notables de la Edad Media ! ; Que perfurae tan de aquellos tiempos ! No la
tengo â la vista, pero si en la memoria, y he de referirla sencillamenfe para
delectaciôn ' de los lectores.
Era una pohrecita mujer, va sola en el mundo, porque la muerte le babia
arrebatado con persistencia -cruel â todos los individuos desu lamilia : hijos,
hermanos, prôximos parientes, cuanto liabia amado su buen corazôn ; cuanto
en mejores dias la obligaba, con inefable gozo suyo, â permanecer recluida
en su modestisimo hogar, completando la ventura^ de aquellos seres queri-
dos ; cuanto constituia su mundo tranquilo, silencioso, plâcido, dçntro de
otro mundo agitado, turbulento y de enconada luclia de pasiones é interes,
todo babia desapai'êcido, trasladândose â otra région donde ya la muerte no
tendria imperio para arrebatarlo.
A los intenses dolores, â las amarguras hondisimas que en ella causaron
tan continuados y duros golpes sobre su corazôn, babia sucedido una dulce
melancolia, una esperanza inefable de volverâ reunirse con los que habian
sido el encanto de su vida. Pues abandonado este mundo se hallaban en otro
mejor, ella iria â buscarlos, los encontraria y nada los podria ya separar.
Como aqui se habia afanado ^ por su bien, procuraba con idéntico afân me-
jorar su suerte mâs alla del sepulcro : deseaba verlos en la région de la luz,
de la paz, de la felicidad perfecta.
Oraba^ siempre con fe, con amor, con esperanza, y siempre por los que
babian sido en este mundo : lodas sus siiplicas eran por los muertos ; ella
1. Deleito, — 2. Tenaoidad. — 3. Diclia. — 4. Esforzado. — Tj. Uezaba.
PAHIE ESl'ANOLA [1^6]
lambién vivia como mnerta por su soledad, por el olvido 6 indifcrencia de
lo demâs. De su corto peciilio daba limosna â los pobres, encargàndoles
siempre que rogaran por los muertos.
Al rayar el alba se celeliraba una misa en sufragio por los que habian
existido : nunca faltaba â su misa de los muertos. Envuelta en largo manlo,
y al iniciarse elcrepùsculo delamanana, aciidia jiresurosa al lemplo; cuando
entraba en él, imaginaba ponerse ya en coniunicaciôn con su familia, con
sus amigos, con todo lo <iii(> en otro liempo habia llenado de alegria su aima.
Oraba, y oi-aba porque también para elles alborease el dia de la misericordia
de Dios ; para que, saliendo de la noche sin estrellas, los inundase la es-
plandorosa luz eterna del dia sin fin, del perenne " é inefable regocijo.
LIegé el momento en que todo parecla acabar para ella ; en la lâmpara
de la vida iba â extingiiirse por falta de elemenlo para alimentar su luz.
Habia dado hasta su l'iltinia insigniticanle moneda â los pobres, y sus mo-
destisimos vesLidosà dos infelices â quienes habia visto medio desmidas en
la callo. /.Conque podria comprar al dia siguiente lo necesario para su
proprio siistento ?/. que daria â los que le pidiesen limosna, paralener ocasiôn
de rogarles que orasen por los muertos?
\'ino la noche, y al pensar en su situacion para cl dia que le habia de ama-
necer, dijo con le semejante â la de Abraham : Dios proveerâ.
Yseacostô tranquila. durmiendo poco después con suefio apacible, exento
de congoja " 6 de penosa vision.
Poco le duj'ô aquel sueno de bea'.itud. De pronlo despcrtô oyendo una
campana, (;uyo espocial taùido indicaba ser la que convocaba â la misa de
los muertos. Levanldse presurosa ; se vistiô â la tenue luz de la pequena
lâmpara quetodas las nochcs encendia para alumbrar â sus amigos del mun-
do eterno, y se dirigié â la ventaïui, diciendo : « He dormido poco ; no
puede ser que amanezca tan pronto : /. habr.â sido una alucinaciôn ? He creido
oir la campana »
Abriô.mirôal cielo, y observando las estrellas, tuvo por cierto que apenas
habia pasado la média noche : mas en aquel momento la campana repitiô
clara y distintamente sus especiales tanidos, tocando â misa de los muertos.
Ya no cabia duda, y la pobrecita mujer saliô de su casa, dirigiéndose por
calles obscuras y profundamente solitarias â la iglesia donde se celebraba
aquella legendaria misa.
Encontre cerrada la gran puerta ; màsal acercarse a ella seabriôpor si scia,
ofreciéndole franca entrada y llenàndola de asoiubro. Eltemplo aparecia pro-
fusamente iluminado por un sinnûmero de grandes blandones** en todos los
altares, y su espacioso âmbilo densamente cuajado** de muchedumbre de fieles,
puestos de rodillas y orando con el màs inlenso fervor.
Dirigiose à su acostumbrado sitio, que viô hallarse vacio y como respetado
por los demâs. Todos le abrian paso, sin mirarla ni céder en su actitud de
adoracién, y atravesaba libre, como el pez por las ondas, sin tropezar en
cuerponi veslidura.
Al resplandor de los innumerables cirios aparecian los semblantes como
iluminados por la màs refulgente luz del sol. Miro la polirecita, buscando â
sus asiduos compaiieros de la misa de los muertos : no encontre uno solo.
Los présentes, para ella desconocidos, apar-ecian todos como grandes senores
y nobilisimas matronas, de rostros vénérables, con variadas y lujosas vesti-
duras, la mayor parte de tiempos anteriores y aun de lejanos siglos.
— i Que es esto, Dios mio ? — dijo en su extraneza, casi en su estupor ;
— idônde estoy ? <•. me encuentro tal vez sonando ?
Lo que mâs la sorprendui era el profundo silencio que reinaba en aquella
multitud : aun en la màs callada soledad de los campos se oye algiin rumor :
alli nada se oia : los labios se movian, como si enunciasen plegarias en alta
6. Kterno, constante. —7. Angustia. — 8. Cirios. — 9. Lieno complelamente.
[117] PARTK ESPANOLA 21
voz; mas nada llegaba â sus oidos : percibia el tenue roce de su manto, hasta
su propia respiracién ; de los deinâs, nada.
l. Era que, en medio de la profunda obscuridad do aquella noche del mundo.
alboreaba con vivisimos fulgores laesplendente liiz elerna que ilnminaba va,
clarisima y deslumbradora, los rostros en tal momento transfigurados de
tan fervorosa y desconocida muchedunfibre ? i^ Aqnella adoraciôn sublime en
la tiorra por los que no aparecian â la luz del dîa, era el preludio de otra
adoraciôn mâs profunda, mâs ardiente, mâsextâtica, en otro mundo de gozo
consumado, de ventura sin tin, ante el trono de Diosy en la socicdad dinhosa
de los hijos del bien y de la etcrna bendi'-iôn ?
De affuel profundo silencio; de aquellos pecbos conmovidos por oleadas de
amor santo, de inefable sobrehumana esperanza; de aquellos labios ([uc ha-
blaban sin voz para los oidos del mundo, en lengiiaje solo inteligible "* en las
alturas, (. saldria instantàneamente un himno armonioso, dulcisimo, de
angélicas melodias, cantando las misericordias del Senor; un Hosannaal (|uo
venia â redimir à los (jue gemian, amaban y esperaban ?
Apareciô en el altar el sacerdote, precedido de dos acôlitos, para célébrai-
la misa de los muertos : los très se movian, se arrodillaban, se levantaban
segûn las exigencias del ritual, mas siempre en el mâs profundo silencio ;
ni al célébrante ni â los acôlitos se les oia en ninguna de las oraciones : al
elevar la hostia y el câliz, los fieles se inclinaron hasta posar sus frentes en
el suelo ; uno de los acôlitos agitaba la campanilla; la pobrc mujer lo veia,
mas no llegaba â oir el sonido : todo era silencio.
i. Habia acabado para ella todo rumor en este mundo, como acaba para el
que muere, y no habria de oir màs que voces de coros celestiales, entonando
(;ânticos suavisimos de alabanza y de perenne alogrla en un cielo donde el
gozo inunda â los quemoran en o\ ?
Poco después se présenté un acôlito con gran bandeja, y priiicii)iô â hacer
la acostumbrada colecta para los muertos; todos depositaban sus ofrendas,
pero el métal no sonaba.
Cuando llegô al sitio donde se hallaba la bueua mujer, la bandeja estabaya
rebosandode muy relucientes monedas de oro : la pobreeita sintiô una an-
gustia mortal ; nada ténia que dar. El acôlito la mirô con inefable dulzura,
como insistiendo en su ruego : entonces tuvo una siibita ale|j;ria; reparô que
llevaba una joya : el anillo de oro ({ue habia recibido ante el altar el dia de su
boda. — « Ya^v para que la quiero ? — dijo entre si. — Pobrecitos muertos,
para vosotros. »
Y sacândole del dedo anular y besândole con intenso amor, le puso en la
bandeja.
Al tocar en ella, el anillo sonô : aquel vibrante sotiido (né lo ûnico que
interrumpiô tan profundo silencio : repercutiô en el templo, é instantànea-
mente se apagaron todas las luces.
Cuando al amanecer acudieron los sirvientes â abrir las puerlas de la
iglesia. la encontrarou muerta en su sitio acostumbrado : junto â ella habia
un anillo .
Lo bal)iadado todo por los que ya no vivian : lo ùltiino fué su vida.
Y la diô en medio de ellos : en la misa de los muertos,
.1. .M . de Sahando.
10. Comprensible.
22
PARTE ESPANOLA K^Sj
Fin de Mes [Fin.)
Escena III.
Don Nicanor, a poco Librada.
(Mientras concluye de afoitarsp. inonologa con toda la aiuarga ironia de r|uien no tiene un
céntiino en el bolsillo.)
Don Nicanor — jPerro vivir es este de los pobres de levita, que, poi-
ineludible ley del propio decoro, représentâmes mâs de loque ganamos ! . .
La l'iltima seinaiia de todos los meses se acaba sieinpre con la inisma
cancl(')i) : sin un cuarto, y viviendo del crédito, que es lafuentemâs
abundosa" para los deseniadados mercachifîes de perro chico '^ que pro-
veen â nuestras necesidades. .. Semana de pasi In, prôdiga en desdenes,
humillaciones y tristezas. Di'as si')rdidos, cicateros, en que se vive de
mala manera, se suelen visitar lascasasde préstamos, el Monte de Piedad.
Los deseos se ainortiguan con una conl'orniidad penosa ; se suprime el
vaso de lèche del desaynno; el chocolaté se trae de los mâs baratito ; se
fuma menos;seinventan pretexlos para que los ninosnosalgan â paseo —
jpoJ)reciIlos! — por no poder comprarles una insigniticante chucheria
que puede antojârseles.
Dîas, mejor dicho, noches, en que uno se acuesta mâs temprano que
de cosLumbre, en que el paler familias esta tristôn, malhumorado ; la
senora displicente, nerviosa ; lloran mâs los nenes, poniéndose insufri-
bles ; se insolenta la fâmula ; por nada se arma cuestiôn, que ya se sabe
queendondeno hayharina... Le saludan â uno con cierto aire de
protecciôn que crispa losnerviosel carnicero, el tendero, la portera, todo
el mundo, que parece regocijarse el adivinarla crisis monetaria, eni'er-
medad inévitable que se apodera de nosotros. . .
Y el horizonte nuestro no se aclara : se ensombrece mâs y mâs..
Mientras no esté en relacicm directa lo que se gana con lo que cuesta el
vivir, repetiremos el sainete semitrâgico, semiburlesco, que se représenta
en la mayoria de los hogares de la clase média, clase ridi'cula por que
mâs vive de aparieiicias que de realidades; que refrcsca los vestidos
volviéndolos del rêvés: que hace perdurable el calzado â l'uerza de
remontas, palas, médias suelas, tacones y remiendos; cpie disimula lo viejo
y lo pardo con tinta y con betun ; que se coloca un palillo'^ en la boca
los dfas en que ayunaô corne unas miseras judi'as....
Librada. - (Oesde la pueita.) Senorito, el almuerzo.
Don Nicanor. — Yoy. (Librada se retira.) (viéndoia partir.) jEl almuerzo! Me
lo se de memoria : es el almuerzo que me corresponde en estos di'as
trâgicos: un huevofrito, con un punadode patatas fritas y un vaso de agua :
suprimidos vino, postre y café.... Va pesar de que tan liviano es el
condumio, jcuântas humillaciones y sonrojos nos cuesta ! jQué amargo
es el pan cpie se come en una casa en la que, como en la mîa sucede, no
hay mâs ingresos que los cuarenta duros'* de ini paga de empleado ! ...
Y con estos cuarenta duros pague usted una casa, mantenga mujer,
hijos, madré, criada, un gato, un mirlo ; pague usted el salario â la domés-
tica, vista usted y vista â su familia dccorosamente ; alterne usted en
11. Alntndante — 12. Mercadcres al pormenor. — 13. Mondadicntes. — 14. t'n duro
cinco pesetas.
[1191 PARTE ESPANOLA 23
sociedad, y .... si realiza tisted todo eslo y llega usted â lin de mes cou S(')lo
cinco céntimos en del bolsillo, es usted un héroe que nierece perpetùen su
hazanaen niârmoles y bronces
(Al entrar en el comedor sorpiende al gato en una deliciosa faeiia'''. Apiovechando un
descuido, Titi se ha encaramado à la mesa, ha tirado el huevo frito sobre el pavirnento, y
juguetea con las patatas fritas.)
Telôn .
Alejandro Lahiiibiera.
15. Trabajo, tnrea, ooupacion.
El pobrè y el rico*.
En los antiguos tienipos, cuando Dios en persona andabaaûn entre los
hombres, una noche leocurri(')que, estando niuy cansado, no pudo darcon
un albergue. En ei camino que ante El se extendia, y frente à l'rente, dos
casas se alzaban. Era una grande y hermosa; la otra pequena y de misé-
rable aspecto. La grande pertenecia ;i un rico ; la pequena â tin pobre.
Y el Senor pens('» : para el rico no seré una carga ; voy â llainar â su
puerta. Cuando el rico oy() el aldabonazo, abriô la ventana y pregunt*) al
extranjero lo que deseaba. Y el Senor respondic) : « No deseo mâs que
una cama para pasar la noche. » El rico miro al viajero de pies â cabeza,
y como Dios iba vestido muy modestamente y por la pinta no debia llevar
un céntimo en el bolsillo, se encogii'» de hombros y replici) : « No puedo
atenderle : mi casa esta llena de hierba y grano, y si tuviose (|ue albergar
â cuantos llaman à mi puerta, \o mismo me veri'a reducido â la mendi-
cidad. Busqué alojamiento en otra parte. » Y cerr('> la ventana dejando â
Dios plantado en medio de la carretera.
Este volviô la espalda y dirigiéndose â la pequena casita de en frente,
llamo. Inniediatamente el pobre descorrio el cerrojo, abrio su puertecita,
y suplico al viajero que entrase y pasase la noche en su morada. « Ya es
muy tarde, — le dijo, — y hoy ya no puede ir mâs lejos. » Estas palabras
satisfacieron â Dios, y entrô. La mujer del pobre le tendi() la mano para
darle la bienvenida, y diciéndole que no hiciese cumplidos se excusû de
su pobreza ; teni'aii poco, muy poco, pero lo poco que tenian, lo daban
con gusto. Luego puso patatas â la lumbre, y mientras se asaban ordefK)
â una cabra para ofrecerle un poquito de lèche.
Y cuando la mesa estuvo puesta, Dios se sento entre los dos y aquellos
alimentes misérables le supieron â gloria por que vefa â su lado caras
contentas. Terminaron de comer cuando ya era hora de acostarse. y la
mujer, Uamando aparté â su marido, le dijo : « Oye, amigo mio : â lin
de que el pobre viajero descanse bien, esta noche le cederemos nuestra
cama y nosolros nos arreglaremos una con paja. Ha andado todo el di'a, y
debe estar muy cansado. — Con mil araores, — respondii» el marido; —
voy à decirselo. » Y se dirigio â Dios y le suplico que aceptase su cama con
objeto de que descansase bien. Dios se negô â privar de su lecho à los dos
viejos, pero ellos insistieron hasta que hubo aceptado, y se arreglaron
una cama extendiendo paja en el suelo. Al dîa siguiente se levantaron
antes de que amaneciese, y del mejor modo que pudieron preparai-on un
*Véanselas otras cuatro partes.
PARTE ESIaSoLA 11201
desayuno para su liuesped. Cuando el sol penetn') à través de la
pequena ventana y Dios se hnbo levantado, comio en sti compafiia
y se dispuso luego d continuai' su camino. Al llegar al umbral de la puerta
les dijo : « Fuesto que habéis sido tan compasivos y buenos, expresad
très volos y yo liaré que se realicen. » Kl pobre contost(') : « ^, Que puedo
desear conio no sea la salvacuni eterna y la salud y el pan colidiano para
mientras vivamos juntos '? En tercer lugar no se lo que podria pedir. »
Entonces Dios le dijo : « ^ No desearias tener una casa nueva en lugar de
la vieja? » A lo que el hombre replicô : « Si, si esto fuese posible, claro
que me gustan'a. » El Seiîor realiz(3 sus deseos y cambic'» la casa vieja por
otra nueva y heimosa, hecho lo cual se despidiô y continue) su camino.
(Continuard.)
Hermanos Grimm.
(Traducciôn del alemân.j
La toma de Tetuân {Conthmaciôn).
i Que trance" tan cn'tico para las tropas de esta division fué aquel en
que, al dar el asalto, se encontraron con una ancha ciénaga, cubierta de
juncos y espadanas, que se extendi'a à modo de foso, como delensa nalu-
ral delante del parapeto levantado por los moros ! Todo el arrojo del
gênerai Prim fué necesario para que nuestros soldados detenidos por tan
terrible obstâculo, y liundiéndose hasta el pecho en el disimulado pan-
tano, no vacilaran en el momento decisivo, y entraran, como entraron,
sembrando cadâveres, en el campamento marroqui.
Por la izquierda escalan al mismo tiempo la trincliera las fuerzas de
tercer grupo con sus générales a la cabeza, y el duque de Tetuân seguido
de su Estado Mayor, (pie grita con voz estentôrea, agitando la ospada:
l'A delante ! jAdelanle ! Y los soldados vitoreando se précipitât! delrâs
de él en medio de un diluvio de balas que viene hacia ellos de todas par-
tes, de entre los ârboles, de las ventanas, de las quintas, de las tiendas,
de las enmaranadas veredas Uenas de espinos y de higueras chumbas
que, como verdaderos laberintos, se cruzan en todas direcciones obs-
truyendo la marcha .
Los moros huian por todos lados en completo desorden. El campa-
mento bajo que se extendia en el llano de Tetuân, el de la torre de
Halelî, otro situado en unos cerros mas alla de la misma torre, donde
estaba el Guartel General, otro mas lejaiio, lodos siicesivamente fueron
ocupados por nuestras divisioncs. con unis de quinientas tiendas, con
las provisiones de guerra, con los caiïones de bronce, con la bandera
del imperio, con equipajes de jefes y soldados. Todo esto en menos
tiempo del (jue se empleF, en relerirlo'"-, en média hora escasa (pie tardé
nuestra decidida y heroica ini'anteri'a en escalar las trincheras y espa-
ciarse como impetuoso torrente por el campo niahometano.
[Continuard.)
Gaspar Nuinez de Arce.
H. Situacion, mometito. — 12. Contarlo.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 4.
20 Novembre 1907.
8e Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
De mi libro .
/^^^^
Maria del Pilar Contreras de Rodriguez.
En las paginas extraâas
de este libro — que condensa '
los anhelos de una vida
y el sentir de un aima ingenua —
no hay bellezas ni elegancias
de lenguaje, no camjjean
las imàgenes brillantes
en su estilo, no se encierran
los bumildes pensaniientos
en la forma rigiirosa de la métrica.
C-orre en ellas mi poesia
espontânea, libre, inquiéta,
como corre libre el agua. . .
como corre libre el agna de la pcûa,
— sin el caiice que le obliga
â seguir por una senda —
repartiendo su frescura
en las plantas que amorosas la rodean.
Son mis versos la sencilla
expresion de la llaneza,
sin ropage de severo clasicismo,
sin las trabas uniformes de las
[reglas :
pobres flores campesinas
que al azar brotan doquiera,
en las eumbres, en los llanos,
en los riscos, entre penas
Sin el celo que las cuida,
sin la mano que las riega,
con el sol y con el aire
en constante juventud de primavcra.
No es su forma rico vaso. . . .
rico vaso que cincela
el artista prodigioso de la frase
con dicciôn clara y pcrfocta.
No es la urdimbre primorosa
con que tejen los maestros de la
[técnica
lasestrofas luminosasdeesos versos
en que el genio se révéla.
llica forma, vaso digno
de gnardar la pura esencia,
deguardarla pura esencia que réside
en el aima misteriosa del pocta.
Es la foi'ma île estos cantos,
urna pobrc que conserva
con su liumiUle cristal limpio
un sencillo ramillete de violetas.
Maria del Pilar Co.mreras.
* Del libro « Entre mis muros ». — 1. Contiene.
[21:
'05 PARTE ESPANOLA L^^2]
Las Gortes de Castilla.
No fueron realmente las Cortes de Castilla un cuerpo estable ' y con
facLiltades bien demarcadas^, y iiunca tuvieron infliijo permanente en
los negocios de la paz y de la guerra : aun en la obra de legislaciôn, si
para ello era debido consultarlas, no siempre participaron ; y si en ei
otorgamiento de los tributos casi en todas ocasiones ejercieron la facul-
tad de concederlos, a que va aneja ', aun cuando no se ponga en uso, la
de negarlos, hasta en esto hubo algunos, bien que raros casos, en que
fueron sacados al pueblo sin su concesiôn ciertos socorros. Pero siendo
como eran imperfectos instrumentes, las Cortes existieron y vivieron lar-
gos anos; y toda vida supone acciôn, y aquella existe aun cuando esté
adormecida y aun suspendida, y si latente en ocasiones, en medio de
todo no extinguida. De las Cortes, si no liablaron mucbo los historiado-
res, algo dijeron en los casos en que vinieron ellas â figurar con lustre
en el teatro de la liistoria. La memoria de su nombre no se borro del
pensamiento en lo gênerai de las gentes; y andando el tiempo, cuando en
tierras extranas cuerpos de igual 6 parecida naturaleza cobraron poder y
nombradi'a^, â las Cortes se convirtiô la atenciôn de quienes deseaban
establecer en nuestra patria una clase de gobierno en que la autoridad
Real tuviese contrapeso ô freno ; en que un numéro mayor ô menor de
espanoles por varios medios, y entre ellos por el de elegir représentantes,
participase de la potestad legislativa ; en que el uso antiguo y comi'in de
varios pueblos de Europa, de otorgar la representaciûn popular del
Estado, quedase, no solo reconocido en la teoria, sino también asegurado
con buenas fianzas para que fuese constante é imprescindible ; y en que,
siguiendo el curso que han Uevado estas cosas en varias naciones, se
fuese por taies medios creando, extendiendo yalirmando, el influjo regu-
lar y légal de los gobernados en los gobernantes, apoyado todo ello un
tanto^ en la tradiciôn, para que esta, aun no siendo fielmente seguida ni
bien interpretada, dièse â las novedades, hasta â las mas atrevidas. el
grado de autoridad que en el concepto gênerai de los hombres, sin
excluir â los ([ue proclaman el principio contrario, tienen los hechos y
nombres de las edades pasadas y remotas.
Antonio AlcalA (jaliano.
1. Durable. — 2. Serialadas. — 3. Uaida. — 4. Renombre. — 5. Un poco.
La toma de Tetuân [Conthmadôn).
i Horrible i'ué entonces la escena que presenciamos! Necesitâbamos
apartar la vista del suelo para no ver como los caballos hollaban los
sangrientos despojos de nuestros enemigos; por aquî un tronco ^^ sin
cabeza, por alli los esparcidos miembros de un moro destrozado por una
granada ; mâs alla un cuerpo completamente (juemado, tal vez por la
explosion de los barriles de pùlvora ; un poco mâs lejos dos heridos mori-
bundos, espantosamente desligurados, de cuyo pecho se escapaba un ge-
43. Cuerpo.
[163] PARTE ESPANOLA 27
mido hondo, ronco, que penetraba en el aima inspirando compasiôn, y
por donde quiera trozos de carne ennei^recida, entrafias palpitantes aùn,
exterminio y muerte.... jAy! Tainbién alli mezclada con la enemiga
habia corrido en abundancia la sangre de nuestros hermanos; alli vi sus
cadâveres como las victimas ofrecidas por nuestra patria en aras de la
Victoria.
Las tiendas que cogimos à los moros eran en su mayor parte cunicas,
unas niarquesinas y aigunas cilfndricas, casi todas rayadas 6 con capri-
cbosos adornos azules y negros. Todo el campamento estaba lleno de
inmundicia, de câscaras de naranja, pedazos de papel, naipes, harapos
asquerosos, esteras podridas, cebadaymaiz, etc. Loscanones que cayeron
en nuestro poder eran de bronce; dos de ellos, regalados por Gustavo
Hl de Suecia, tenian inscripciones arabes; otros eran ingleses, y los
demâs, entre los que sobresalia uno llamado Cabul, de la l'undiciôn de
Barcelona, ofrecidos a principios de sigio por nuestro rey Carlos IV al
sultan de Marruecos, como testimonio de amistad.
Aquella noche acampamosen la posiciim conquistada, bajo los fuegos
de la Alcazaba de Tetuàn, que durante el combate y aigunas horas des-
pués no cesô de disparar sus cafiones contra nosotros para lavorecer la
retirada, digo mal, la precipitada fuga '^ del ejército marroqui.
A la manaiia siguiente, a poco de haber intimado el duque de Tetuân
la rendiciôn de la plaza, se presentaron en nuestro campo cinco parla-
mentarios. El principal de ellos, que era el famoso Hache-er-Abeir, nom-
brado después alcalde moro de Tetuân, venia montado en una mula apa-
rejada con lujosi'sima manta décolores ; los demâs marcbaban â pie, y el
delantero ondeaba en seilal de paz la bandera blanca. (irandes eran la
impaciencia y curiosidad de todos, jefes y soldados, â la aproximacion de
estos parlamentarios de grave y austera lisonomîa ; agolpâbanse paraver-
los en la calle mayor del Cuartel General, como la llamâbamos nosotros,
y no habi'a semblante donde no se reflejara un mal disimulado senti-
miento de alegria y de orgullo.
Nada resultô de esta primera entrevista; no asî de la segunda en la que
pidieron al conde de Lucena, en nombre de la ciudad consternada, que
apresurase su entrada en Tetuân, por que los kabilas se habian entregado
à los mayores excesos, robando y asesinando, antes de luiir â sus enmara-
fiadas *■' montanas, como si los vecinos de Tetuân fuesen, no sus hermanos,
sino sus mâsencarnizados enemigos. La noche anteriorhabia sidoespan-
tosa ; las turbas del emperador, faltas de disciplina, sin jefes, porque los
générales babi'an huîdo, habi'an cometido las mayores iniquidades :
ebrios de ira y animados del espiritn de rapina, habian entrado â sacoen
todas lus casas, principalmente en el barrio de los judios, matando â los
que ofrecian resistencia yrompiendo los objetos que no se podian llevar.
Atendiendo al ruego de los parlamentarios, pusiéronse en marcha las
divisiones con direcci(m â Tetuân. Iba delante la de réserva mandada
entonces por el gênerai Rios. Llegaron por sendas"^ torcidas, casi ocultas
entre los arbustos que crecen en sus linderos como los zarzales en nuestra
tierra, y subiendo y bajando aigunas cuestas que guardan la ciudad â la
vista de los que se acercan, hasta que se esta â sus puertas, se aproxima-
ron, coulas precaucionesdebidas, âlas murallas. Un silencio sépulcral rei-
14. Huida. — 15. Eso-arpadas. — 16. Caminos.
PARTE ESPANOLA [164|
naba, y Tetnân parecia una inmensa tumba. De pronto, a la llegada de
niiestras tropas, oy(')se dentro prolongada 6 interminal)le griteria ; la ciu-
dad miierla lialu'a recobrado su vida para gémir sobre su desventura.
Encima de la piierta de entrada, baja y obscura, asomaban la boca dos
caiiones, enfilaiido la senda que luiestros soldados seguiau ; y de vez en
cuando sacaba la cabeza por las troueras un moro iunoble, de mirada
ferez y recelosa, haciendo gestos y sefias ininteligibles que asî podian ser
un ruego corno una aineuaza, ô una imprecaciôn.
(Concluirà.)
Gaspar Nunez de Arce.
El Escorial.
Con la solemne calma del desierto,
Tan imponenle elévase * el colnso,
Que liasta el rcloj con eco pavoroso
Al rey evoca en su sepulcro yerto -,
La sombra augusta dcl monarca mnerto
Déjà en sus claustros su perfil medroso,
Y el corazfjn alli busca reposo
Como lo busca el naiifrago en el puerto.
ÏLi, noble amigo, con serena calma
Te acoges â sus cùpulas benditas
Como el viajero â la benigna palma.
Y si â cantar el Escorial me invitas
Es que responde al temple de tu aima
El templo donde rezas y méditas.
Antonio Grilo.
1. Se alza. — 2. Frio.
La pata' de palo-.
Voy â contar el caso mâs cspantable y prodigioso que bnenamente
imaginarse puede, caso quebarâerizar el cabello, horripilarse las carnes,
pasmar el ânimo y acobardar el corazôn mas intrépido, mientras dure
su memoria entre los hombres y pase de generaciôn en generaciôn su
fama con la eterna' desgracia del infeliz à qiiien cupo tan mala y tan
desventurada suertc. i Ob, cojos ! escarrnentad en pierna ajena y leed con
atenciiki esta bistoria, que tiene tanto de cierta como de lastimosa ; con
vosotros hablo, y mejor dire con todos, puesto que no hay en el mundo
nadie, a no carecer de piernas, que no se halle expuesto â perderlas.
Érase que en Londres vivian. no ba^ medio siglo, un comerciante y un
artifice de piernas de palo. famosos ambos: el primero por sus riquezns
\ el segundo por su rara babilidad en su oficio. Y basta decir que esta
era tal, que aun los de piernas mâs agiles y ligeras envidiaban las que
solîa hacer de madera, basta el punto de haberse hecbo de moda las
piernas de palo con grave perjuicio de las naturales. Acert('» en este
t. Pierna (popular). —2. Madera. — 3. Hace.
[165] PARTE ESPaSoLA
^29
tiempo nuestro comerciante à romperse una de las snyas, con tal per-
fecci()n, que los ciriijanos no hallaron otro remedio que cortàrsela, y
aunque el dolor de la operaciôn le tuvo â pique de expirar\ luego que se
encontr(') sin pierna no dej() de alegrarse pensando en el artifice, que con
una de palo le liabia de librar para siempre de semejantes percances^
Mando llamar à Mr. Wood al momento (que este era el nombre del
estupendo maestro pernero), y como suele decirse, no se le cocfa el pan,
imaginândose ya con su bien arreglada y prodigiosa pierna, que, aunque
hombi-e grave, gordo y de mâs de cuarenta aiios, el deseo de experi-
mentar en si mismo la habilidad del artifice, le ténia fuera de suscasillas.
No se hizo este esperar mucho tiempo, que era el comerciante rico y
gozaba renombre de generoso.
— Mr. Wood, ledijo, felizmente necesito de su habilidad de usted.
— Mis piernas, repuso Wood, estàn â disposicion de quien quiera
servirse de ellas.
— Mil gracias ; pero no son las piernas de usted sino una de palo lo
que necesito.
— Las de este género ofrezco yo, replicô el artifice, que las mias,
aunque son de carne y hueso, no dejan de hacerme falta.
— Por cierto que es raro que un hombre como usted que sabe hacer
piernas â la perfecciûn, piernas que no hay mâs que pedir, use todavia
las misnias con que naci().
— En eso hay mucho que hablar; pero al grano : usted necesita una
pierna de palo ^ no es eso ?
— Caba]mente% replicô el acaudalado comerciante: pero no vaya
usted â créer que se trata de una cosa cualquiera, sino que es menesler
una obra maestra, un milagro del arte.
— Un milagro del arte jeh!, repitiû Mr. Wood.
— Si, senor, una pierna maravillosa y cueste lo que costare.
— Estoy en ello ; una pierna que suplaen todo la que usted ha perdido .
— No senor, es precisoque sea mejor todavia.
— Mu y bien.
— Que encaje bien, que no pesé nada ni tenga yo que llevarla â ella
sino ella â mi.
— Sera usted servido.
— En una palabra, quiero una pierna. . . vamos, ya que estoy en el
caso de elegirla, una pierna que ande sola.
— Como usted guste.
— Conque ya esta usted enterado.
— De aqui â dos dias, respondiô el pernero, tendra la pierna en casa,
y prometo â usted que quedarâ complacido.
Dicho esto se despidieron, y el comerciante quedo entregado â mil
sabrosas imaginaciones y lisonjeras esperanzas, pensando que de allî âtres
dias se veria provisto de la mejor pierna de palo que hubiera en todo el
reino unido de la Gran Bretafia. Entretanto nuestro ingenioso artilice se
ocupaba ya en laconstrucci()n de su mâquinacontanto empeno y acierto,
que de alli â très dias, como habia ofrecido, estaba acabada su obra, satis-
fecho sobremanera de su adelantado ingenio.
Era una manana de mayo y empezaba â rayar el dia leliz en que
4. Morir. — 5. Accidentes — 6. Precisamente.
30 PARTE BSPANOLA [166]
habian de cuniplirse las mâgicas ilusiones del despernado comerciante,
que yaci'a en su cama miiy ajeno â la desventura que le aguardaba. Fal-
tâbale va tiempo para calzarse'' la prestada pierna, y cada golpe que
sonaba a la puerta de la casa retumbaba en su corazon. — Ese sera, se
deci'a â si mismo; pero en vano, por que antes que su pierna Uegaron la
léchera, el cartero, el carnicero, un amigo suyo y otros mil personajes
insignilicantes, creciendo por instantes la impaciencia y ansiedad de
nuestro héroe. Pero nuestro artifice cuniplia siempre sus palabras, y
jojalâ que no la hubiese cumplido entonces! Llamaron, en fin, à la pu-
erta, y à poco rato entré en la alcoba del comerciante un oficial de la
tienda con una pierna de palo en la mano, que no parecfa sino que se le
iba a escapar.
— Gracias à Dios, exclame el banciuero, veamosesa mara villa del mundo.
— Aqui la tiene usted, replicô el oticial, y créa usted que mejor pier-
na no la ha hecho mi amo en su vida.
— Ahoraveremos. Yenderezândoseen la cama pidi('> de vestir, y luego que
se mudu la ropa interiormandô al oficialdepiernasquele acercaselasuya
para probârsela. No tardf) mucho en calzârsela. Pero aquî entra la parte
lastimosa. No bien se la coloC() y se puso en pie, cuando sin que fuerzas
bumanas fuesen bastantes para detenerla, echô â andar la pierna de por
sî sola con tal seguridad y rapidez tan prodigiosa, que â su despecho
hubo de seguirla el obeso cuerpo del comerciante. En vano fueron las
voces que este daba Uamando â sus criados para que le detuvieran. Des-
graciadamente la puerta estaba abierta y cuando ellos Uegaron ya estaba
el pobre hombre en lacalle. Luego que se viô en ella ya fué imposible
contener su impetu. No andaba, volaba, parecîa que iba arrebatado por
un torbellino, que iba iinpelido^ por el huracân. En vanoera echar atrâs
el cuerpo cuanto podi'a, tratar de asirse â una reja, dar voces que le so-
corriesen y detuvieran que ya temia estrellarse contra alguna tapia, el
cuerpo segui'a â remolque el impulso de laalborotada pierna; si seesfor-
zaba â cojerse de alguna parte corna peligro de dejarse alli un brazo, y
cuando las gentes acudi'an â sus gritos ya el malhadado banquero habia
desaparecido. Tal era la violencia y rebeldia del postizo mienibro. Y era
lo mejor que se encontraba algunosamigosque le llamaban y aconsejaban
que se parara, lo que era lo mismo que tocar con la mano al cielo.
— Un hombre tan formai como usted, le gritaba uno, en calzoncillos
y a escape por esas calles. jEh! jeh!
Y el hombre maldiciendo, jurando y haciendo sérias con la mano de
que no podia absolutamente pararse.
Gual le tomaba por loco, otro intentaba detenerle poniéndose delante
y caia atropellado por la furiosa pierna, lo que vah'a al desdichado andarin
mil injurias y picardîas. El pobre lloraba ; en lin desesperado y abu-
rrido se le ocurri(i la idea de ir â casa del maldito fabricante de piernas
que tal le habia puesto. Lleg»), llamé â la puerta al pasar, pero ya habfa
traspuesto la calle cuando el maestro se asomo â ver quien era. S()lo
pudo divisar â lo lejos un hombre arrebatado en alas del huracân, que
con la mano se las juraba. En resoluciôn, al caer la tarde, el apresurado
varun notoque la pierna lejos de aflojar aumentaba la velocidad por ins-
tantes. Sali(') al campo,ycasi exânimeyjadeante acertôàtomar el camino
7. Ponerse. — 8. Impulsado
[167] PARTE ESPAÏVOLA 31
que llevaba a la quintade uiia ti'a siiya que alli vivi'a. Estaba aquella res-
petable senora con mas de setenta anos encima, tomando té junto â la
ventana del parlatorio, y como viô â su sobrino venir tan chusco y regoci-
jado corrlendo haciaella, enipezô â sospecliar si habrîa llegado â perder
el seso, y muclio inâs al verle tan deshonestamente vestido. Al pasar el
desventurado cerca de la ventana le llamo y muy séria empezô à echarle
una exorlacion muy grave acerca de lo ajeno que era en un hombrede
su carâcter andarde aquella manera.
— jTia! jti'a!, también usted, respondiô lamentândose el sobrino
perniligero.
No se volvio â ver mas desde entonces, y muchos creyeron que se habia
ahogado en el canal de la Mancha al salir de la isla.
Hace no obstante aigu nos anos que unos viajeros recién llegados de
America afirmaron haberle visto atravesar los bosques del Canada con
la rapidez de un rehimpago. Y poco hace se vio un esqueleto desarmado,
vagando por las cumbres del Pirineo, con notable espantode los vecinos
de la comarca, sostenido en una pierna de palo. Y asî continua dando la
vuelta al mundo con increible presteza la prodigiosa pierna de palo, sin
haber perdido aun nada de su primer arranque, furibunda velocidad y
movimiento perpétua.
José de ESPRONCEDA.
El pobre y el rico
II
Al ser de di'a, el rico se levante, asomôse â la ventana, y pudo ver, en
el sitio donde antes se alzaba una cabana vieja, una hermosa casa.
Abriu desmesuradamente los ojos, y ilamando â su mujer le dijo : — Mira,
esposa mia ; ayer teniamos delante una choza misérable, y hoy vemos
una casa nueva. ^Como se ha operado el cambio? Corre â averiguar lo
que ha ocurrido. ~ La mujer saliô é hizo mil preguntas al pobre quien
le dijo : — Ayer por la noche llegô un viajero demandando asilo, y esta
mafiana, al despedirse de nosotros, nos ha concedido très gracias : la
eterna salvaciôn, la salud y el pan cotidiano aqui abajo, y como si esto
fuese poco, en vez de nuestra cabafia, una casa nueva hermosisima. —
Después de oîdo esto, la mujer del rico fuéâ contar â su marido la manera
como habîan ocurrido las cosas. Y este dijo : — Tendrian que hacerme
pedazos y molerme â golpes. j Ah ! Si yo lo hubiese sabido. . . el viajero
llamo â mi puerta, pero yo le despedi. — Date prisa, — exclamd la mujer,
— el viajero no puede estar lejos, monta â caballo, alcânzale, y arrégîate
de manera que también te concéda très gracias.
El rico mont(3 â caballo, alcanzo â Dios, y dirigiéndole frases corteses
y amables, le suplicô que le excusase por no haberle dejado penetrar en
su casa ; habi'a buscado la llave de su puerta, pero entretanto el viajero
se habi'a marchado : si volvia â pasar por aquel camino, no tenîa que
dejar de entrar en su casa. — Si, — le contesté Dios, — si algiin di'a vuelvo,
no dejaré de hacerlo. — Después, el rico le preguntô si le séria permitido,
Véanse las otras cuatro partes.
32 PARTE ESPANOLA
como a su vecino, formular très deseos. Dios le replico que podîa formu-
larlos, pero que como para él la cosa no ténia importancia, mejor haria
no deseando nada. Sin embargo el rico pensé que sabn'a desear algo
bueno siempre y cuando tuviese la seguridad de verlo realizado.
Y entonces Dios le dijo : — Esta bien; vuelve a tu casa, y las trescosas
que desees te serân concedidas.
{Conduira.)
Hermanos Grimm.
(Traduccion del alemân.)
Fabula.
El Grajo vano '.
Coulas plumas de un pavo
Un grajo se vistiô : pomposo y bravo-
En medio de los pavos se pasea.
La manada lo advierte, lo rodea,
Todos le pican, burlan y lo envian,
^ DôndC;, si ni los grajos lo querian ?
^; Cuanto ha que repetimos este cuento,
Sin que haya en los plagiarios escarmiento?
Samaniego.
1. Vanidoso. — 2. OrguUoso.
Guriosidades.
Ellenguaje de los mono s.
En la Universidad de Chicago se dice que se ha fundado una nueva
câtedra de Filologi'a cou el exclusivo objeto de estudiar el lenguaje de los
mon os.
En esta clase originali'sima liguran très docenas de monos cscogidos
entre las especies mas inteligentes, que no tienen otra cosa que hacer
sino revelar a los pacienzudos y atentos profesores el misterio de su idio-
ma. Los sabios estan persuadidos de que su persévérante observaciun no
ha de ser infructuosa, y esperanque poco a poco se conseguirâ ir tradu-
ciendo en lengua escrita el rudimentario lenguaje de los simios.
Espereraos, pues, a que los yanquis publiquen un manual de la
conversacion anglo-mona.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 5.
5 Décembre 1907.
8e Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
Simbolo.
(lomo un monstruo de bronce,
Siijeta entre pilares,
Y descubricndo, liinchado,
La o(|uedad ' de su vientre formi-
[dable,
En lo alto de la torre
Que le sirve de cârcel
La colosal campana
Cuelga del resistentc maderamen.
En su côncavo seno
Duerme en aquel instante
La voz atronadora
Con que habla desde el cielo à los
[mortales,
La \ oz de aquella lengua
Conque ocho siglos hace
Que va niarcando à un pueblo
Las fecbas de su vida, mémorables;
Y obra se la creyera
Que en horno de volcanes
Los ciclopes fundieron
Alla en las niitolôgicas edades.
Mas (. por que esa hendedura-
Dc arriba abajo la abre,
Cual si estuviese rota
Por la espada de fuego de un arcàn-
[gel-?
1 . Vacio. — 2. Rajadura.
La tradiciôn reflerc
jQue cuando hirié los aires
Su son por vez primera
Sobrc(':ogi6 de espanto â estes luga-
res ;
Que al desusado estrucndo,
La gente luiyô à ocultarsc;
Que ancianos y mujeres,
Cayeron desmayados en las calles ;
Y que desdo a(juel dia,
Por que su voz gigante
Puedan de los bumanos
Soportar los oidos misérables,
Rajada la campana,
Esa hendedura la abre
Cual si estuviese rota
Por la espada de fuego de un arcân-
igel.
Miràndola el curioso
Viajero de una tarde,
Veia alli el emblema
De todos los destinos inmortales.
A si — pensaba — el aima
Del genio, libre y grande,
La niano de Dios hiere
Al vaciarlaen el molde de la carne;
Pues solo destemplada,
Rota por el dolor de parte a parte.
Su voz puede en la tierra
Sonar sin que â los hombres ano-
nade.
Emilio Fkrrari.
Emilio Ferrari.
Citico anos eulermo, cincoanos de cruel enfermedad que poco a poco
minaba su naturaleza, y, cuando tras grandes alternativas en su salud
pareci'a repoiierse lentamente, repentina agravacicui, que durô très dîas,
puso fin, en la noche del 1 " de noviembre, festividad de Todos los Santos y
vispera del simbùlico aniversario de los Difuntos, â la vida del ilustre
poeta EmilioFerrari.
[27 KSPAG. 5
34
PARTE ESPANOLA
|210|
Habi'anacido en Valladolid en el aùo de 1850, y desde ninohabia demos-
trado véhémente inclinaciôn porla poesi'a.Porcomplacerâ su padre.acau-
dalado ' comerciante de aquella
capital, ciirsi)^ la carrera de Dere-
cho y la de Letras por aticiun, pero
ante todo y sobre todo, su pasiôn
preferida fué simpre la poesia.
Los cxitos de sus prinieros traba-
jos literarios le animaron a trasla-
darse à Madrid, y cuando se hubo
instalado en la curte no le cosli')
gran trabajo conquistar fama de
verdadero poeta. En un concurso
abierto por La Ilustracitui Espa-
fiola y Americana, obtuvo el pri-
mer premio con su cuento El
diahlo de moda, y su poema Un
dïa glorioso y la lectura que diô
en el Ateneo de Pedro Abelardo,
lectura que alcanz() un éxito co-
losal y sin précédente, confirma-
ron plenamente su categori'a de pocta ilustre y eminente.
Su poesia Dos ceiros y dos aimas, precioso epitalamio de la union de
los Reyes Gat'tlicos, y En el arroyo^, composiciôn muy senlida, fueron
pronto populares, y la cultura de su espiritu y el vigor escultnral de su
estro poético, del que nuestros lectores encontraran muestra elocuentisima
en la composiciôn titulada ScniOolo que reproducimosen primera plana,
se revelaron en los fragmentos de su poema La muerle de f/ipalia, que
desgraciadamente ha dejado sin terminar. La Academia Espanola le habfa
abierto sus puertas por sus méritos literarios, y cuando la vida parecia
ofi'ecerle di'as dichosisimosja cruel cnfermedad que le hallevado alsepul-
cro se apoden» de él.
j Descanse en paz el ilustre poêla que tantas paginas de gloria hubiera
podido anadir todavi'a â la historia de la poesia espanola 1
KnllllU l'KRRARI
+ el 1" de Noviembre de 1907
1. Muy rico. — 2. Estiulio. — 3. En la calle.
El trabajo del periodista.
El periodisino impone â los que â él se dedican grandes sacrilicios,
tanto mayores quizâ' cuanto mas poderosas son las facultades creadoias
del que â este raino de aclividad humana dedica sus energias.
Me explicaré. Un sabio encerrado en su gabinete ô en su laboratorio,
trabaja sin césar y sin descanso, piensa, y durante meses, anos, prépara,
estudia, afina, perfecciona, corrige, abrillanta un libro ô un descubri-
raiento, y en estas condiciones, si el sabio es verdaderamente sabio v el
1. Tal vez.
[211] PARTE ESPANOLA 35
fiiego del genio le alienta, su obra es perfecta, dentro de lo humano, y
puede qiiedar en la historia de la ciencia y acaso sn nombre piieda ser
iiiniortal.
Esta labor no tiene dia fijo ni hora lija, nadie le apremia-, nadie le
obliga a ir publicando retazos imperfectos, acaso plagados de errores, de
su libre 6 de su descubrimiento, que en este caso séria ir dando mues-
tras al pùblico de lo torpe que es el pensamieiito humano, aun en los
genios
No, el apreniio no existe, él dira : esto hice cuando quise hacerlo.
Todo lo contrario es la labor del periodista; trabaja no por di'a, ni por
horas, al minuto casi, produccicni forzosa y cronométrica, medida por
los giros de la rotativa ; y el pensamiento ha de ir con ella ; cierto numéro
de cuartillas ha de llenar en tiempo dado ; y hay que armonizar el
tiempo, que es uniforme y fijo, y el pensamiento, (|ue es libre, capri-
choso é irregular, quecamina â saltos y hunde 6 sube disparadoal lirma-
mento ('» se queda hundido en negro sopor.
Si todos los sabios dieran cuenta de lo que van pensando hora tras
hora, si se les obligara à escribirlo y se lanzaran sus pensamientos â la
publicidad, j cuântos errores, cuântos absurdos, cuântosdelirios antes de
que por la consideraciôn de esos casos resultase un astro para la ciencia
() para el arte !
De aquî résulta que grandes inteligencias poderosas se han consumido
durante el siglo XIX, y seguirân consumiéndose en la lucha diaria, y
febril del periodismo.
Todo hombre necesita reconcentrar energi'as, y el periodista no puede
hacer vapor; va gastando aciucllas de continuo, al minuto, y cada boca-
nada de vapor que almacena tiene al punto que brotar, porque en una
empresa periodistica nada ni nadie tiene que esperar, ni el régente, ni la
maquina, ni el repartidor, ni el piiblico.
Por estas razones, (|ue no hacemos m;'is que apuntar â la ligera, al
juzgar la obra crîtica, literaria, politica (> lo que fuere de un periodista,
al conipararla con la de otros trabajadores del pensamiento, hay que
hacerse cargo -^ de las condiciones especiales que concurren en unas y
otras producciones.
José ECUEGARAY.
(De la Real Academia EspafiolaV
2. Da prisa. — 3. Darse cuenta.
La toma de Tetuân [Fui).
La incertidumbre de este instante fué terrible : el gênerai Ri'os hizo
que sus fuerzas ocupasen las posiciones inmediatas, y mandô avanzar
una pieza de artilleria para echar abajo la puerta, que permanecia
cerrada. Pero no tué necesario ; la puerta se abri(') â tiempo, la tropa
entrô en la ciudad .
iQué espectâculo tan triste y desolador présenté â nuestra vista! Las
calles, estrechas y tortuosas, estaban obstruidas con los muebles y esca-
36 PARTE ESPANOLA [212]
parâtes que los moros habian roto en la desesperaciôn de su derrota;
alf;unos cadâveres, completaniente desnudos, asomaban por entre este
mont('>n de escombros, y un pueblo loco de alegri'a, pero andrajoso ' ' y
répugnante, abalanzabase IVenetica mente a nuestros soldados, beséndo-
les, abrazândoles al cuello de los caballos, llorando y gritando con des-
compuestas voces :
jYiva la Reina de Espana y su real compani'a !
jVivan los espafioles!
jViva la corona de Espana !
jYivan los caballeros !
El que asî nos vitoreaba era el oprimido pueblo hebreo. Las mujeres,
en las calles 6 sobre las azoteas, dejaban escapar un grito prolongado y
agudo, con el cual pareci'an expresar su jiibilo '^ Sentados sobre las ruinas
de sus destrozadas tiendas, algunos moros — pocos, por que casi todos
habi'an hui'do — nos vei'an pasar con indolente indil'eroncia sin levantar
la cabeza, cubierta con la capucha, y sin apartar la mirada del suelo
donde yaci'a bêcha pedazos toda su fortuna.
Aun recuerdo con extremecimiento el cuadro qucolVecia la ciudad con
sus calles lenebrosas, llenas de arcos y pasadizos, con el olor de las esen-
cias y especias esparcidas por el suelo, olor pénétrante y vigoroso que
durô por muchos dias; con las puertas de las casas rotas; con los tras-
tos, escaparates y géneros de las tiendas amontonados en las vi'as por
donde apenas podiamos pasar; con aquel pueblo que nos vitoreaba en
el patrio idioma ; con aquellos moros graves y pensa tivos que no alzaban
les ojos para mirarnos; con a(iuellos cadâveres tendidos a la vista de
todo el mundo; con aquellas mujeres andrajosas, pero bellas'^; con
aquel inmenso grito que se exhalaba de todos los labios; con aquel tre-
mendo espectâculo de miseria, sangre, exterminio y duelo. Subimos à la
Alcazaba, atravesando calles que estaban pidiendo venganza contra la
lerocidad de las bàrbaras kabilas, y después recoirimos toda la ciudad,
barrio de moros y barrio de judi'os, en el cual las mujeres nos tiraban
de la ropa para que nos pararamos â contemplar el destrozo que habian
causado en sus casas los moros montafieses, antes de abandonar â
Tetuân .
(laspar Nunez de Arce.
17. Harapiento. — Is. Gozo. — 19. Hermosas.
El Aguinaldo.
El erudito t'scritor Monsieur de .loiiy consagrô lui capitiilo de su preciosa
obra de El Ermitano à descrihir la coslumbre do los estrenos [êtrennes) 6
regalos de Ano Nuevo que tan en boga esta en Francia y en otros paises,
\ razonando sobre ello con su profunda enidiciôn, prétende probar que
aquel uso viene de Tacio, rey de los sabinos, à qiiien en un dia de Ano
Nuevo se liabia hecho el présente de algunos ramos consagrados â Slriniio,
diosa de la fuerza, lo que parece que aquel seàor hubo de toniar à huen
agiiero^ Por que tanto afpiel ano fué para éi nuiy die.hoso, y en juste
1 . Augurio.
[213] PARTE ESPANOLA 37
agradeciniiento autorizô la iisanza de los diclios regalos en lo siicesivo
llamândolos sirenoe, de lo cual positivamente viene la voz francesa étrennes,
y la caslellaiia esfrenos, que han usado en igual scntido nuestros autores.
Pero esta voz ha perdido entre nosotros su uso casi del todo, sin duda por
que la costumbre â que se ret'eria ha caducado también, pues si bien es
cicrto que aûn se conservan algunos regalos de principiode ano, à consecu-
encia de la burlesca ceremonia, todavia bastantegeneralizadaen las tertulias,
de sacar â la suerte en la vispera de Ano Nucvo parejas de nombres, sin
embargo puedc considerarse como desacreditada semejante costumbre,
especialmente en Madrid, de dondc hablamos, si bien en su lugar Icnemos
otra ocasién de lucir nuestra genererosidad pocos dias antes, en las dâdivas
de ag uinaklo con que solemos endulzar la memoria del nacimiento de nues-
tro Redentor.
Queseaunomismonuestro agninaldo que les étrennes ïvcuiceses, lo asegurapor
mi un autor acreditado cuando dice : — y por ser d cuatro dias de millegada
el dia de Ano JSuevo, cobré mi aguinaldo de los senores de aquella corte. —
Mas si la costumbre es la misma, la palabra tiene distinlo origen. Tal lo
siente el famoso Covarrul)ias cuando lahace venir de la voz arâbiga guinel-
dum, que signitica regalar, 6 de la palabra gricga gininaldo que vale tanto
como regalar en el dia del natalicio. Mas sea de ello lo que quiera, es lo
cierto que con la voz aguinaldo (6 aguilando, como dicen en algunas provin-
cias) désignâmes generalmente todos los présentes (jue se hacendesdela
visperade Navidad hasta laEpifania, yqueesta es costumbre bastante gênerai
para haberla de pasar por alto.
Ahora bien, i. cômo se veritica esta costumbre ? i. Consiste acaso como en
Francia (segûn nos la describe el ya dicho Ermitano), en un camliio mutuo
de lodo lo que la perteccidn de las tabricas, el genio de los artistas 6 el buen
gusto de los literatos ostentan à porfia en ocasiôn semejante "?<. Invéntanse
para ello nuevas telas, alhajas- y miiebles primorosos, libros llènosde ingenio
y de agudeza^ ? i, Pônense en m()vi(niento grandes capitales destinados â
viviticar las artes y el comercio, 6 â hacer florecer la liferatura y las ciencias '?
;. Amenizase el todo con sales epigramâticas, composiciones sublimes 6
cartas llenas de ternura y sensibilidad ? Vanios a verlo.
En el ano de 1824 ténia yo en mi casa un alojado IVancés, oticial de la
guardia real, el cual, por razon de cierta herencia habida de una tia suya
casada en Alicante, permaneciô en Espafia mâs tiempo que el ejército, lo
bastante para poner en claro la testamentaria — cosa que no es tan fâcii como
parece, — y con este motivo, y siendo ademâs de un natural'*^ amable y amigo
de la sociedad, hizo relaciôn con muchas personas de todas clases, que le
recibian en su casa con la mayor complacencia. Las aventuras particulares
de este seâor son cosa de que mâs de una vez he querido hacer participes â
mis lectores y que servirian ahora de clave para entender mejor este discurso ;
pero como de estas cosas me t'altan que decir y hallarân su colocaciôn cuando
menos se piense. Mas contrayéndome por aliora al objeto del dia. solo dire
que acercândose el fin de aquel ano, y deseando mi parisiense corresponder
con aquellas personas â quien debia obligaciones ô amistad, de un modo
i-elativo â su clase y circunstancias, consulté conmigo sobre les étrennes que
deberia regalar ; y como él desconfiaba de saber hacer por si las compras,
vino â proponerme sus intenciones, â saber :
En primer lugar, à cierto personaje â quien él delna singular protecciôn y
benevolencia, le destinaba una primorosa coleccién de clàsicos de la litera-
tura francesa ; â unasenora cuya influencia le habia servido de notable reco-
mendaciôn, le ofrecia un precioso artificio de pâjaros disecados solire flores
y frulas trabajadas en cera ; â su abogado defensor, dedicàbale una caja de
ébano que contenia los côdigos franceses é ingleses ; al agente de negocios,
2. Joyas. — 3. Gracia, ingenio. — 4. Temperamento, carâcter.
38 PARTE ESPANOLA [214]
le hrindaba un semanario con regisiro de agenda para lodos los dias del ano ;
à la esposa del escribano, média docena de cuadros copias de Vernet, con
sendos marcos de reliimbrén : y por ûllimo, â otra dama à la cual distinguia
mucho, un primoroso libro encuadernado en mosaico, que contenia las poe-
sias màs sentimentales de Lamartine.
No pude dejar de s'onreirme al escuchar taies propuestas : mas sin replicar
una palabra, pareci conformarme con la idea y me encargué de la compra.
Por supuesto, pueden venir en conocimiento mis lectores de que en vcz de
dirigirme â fâbricas y librerias, hice runibo hacia los portales de la plaza y
calle Mayor, tocando empcro al paso en ciertas tiendas de ultramarinos
adonde sabia poder encontrar lo necesario para mi objeto. Y veriticados
que fucron mis ajustes, torné â mi casa, donde ya me esperaba el oficial con
seis 6 siete cartas redactadas en el interin, cuales en prosa â la Chateaubri-
and, cuales en verso â la Victor Hugo, y lodas alusivas à los diferentes
objetos que remitia. La del personaje empezaba : — " La voz de la sabidu-
ria busca los oidos del sabio ; permitid, scîïor, à los autores clâsicos de
nuestra literatura, que vayan â acogerse bajo la superior inteligencia de
usted. '■ — Y en esto enfraban ya por la sala très niozos cargados con seis
barriles de Peralta, Pedro Jitn4ne:;, Manzanilla' y otros diferentes autores.
Seguia la de la dama diciendo :
Simbolo de ternura y de amistad
Ellos, senora, al dirigirse â ti,
De un corazôn sensible à tu bondad
La gratitud expresarân por mi.
Y â este tiempo ocuparon la sala média docena de pavos y otra média de
capones cantando un coro parecido al final de un primer acto.
Empezaba la del abogado diciendo : « La ley de todas las naciones. . . », y
sin dejarle proseguir le présenté un precioso bolsillo que contenia (ùncuenta
escudos. Proseguia la del agente; « Trescienlos sesenta y cinco dias bien
empleados . . »y âeste tiempo hice sacarde las alforjas del conductor treinta
docenas de cliorizos ; pero este me hizo ver (lue me habia equivocado en la
cuenta, pues faltaban cinco piezas para todo el ano. Venia después la carta
de la mujer del escribano, y lo misnio fu('' ver que se hablaba en ella de
cuadros, que al instante hice salir una cole<;ciôn de ellos capaz de guarnecer
la màs amplia despensa. Por l'iltimo, al prorruinp'r <'on la carta de la dama
en cuestiôn en la mano : — « ;. Que podré dedic-aros senora que reuna en mâs
alto grado el pundonor y el gusto n)âs delicado ?. . . » Una caja de maza[)ân ^
de Toledo, — exclamé yo con entusiasmo, poniéndola sobre la mesa.
(Concluirn.)
Mesonero Romands.
(El Curioso Parlante.)
.5. Vinos famosos de Espaûa. — 6. Dulce.
El pobre y el rico*.
III
El rico, teniendo ya lo (|uo (|ueria, se encaniin() hacia su casa pen-
sando eu las trescosas que podria desear, ymientras soltando las rlendas
meditaba, el caballo se puso â caracolear, tanto y con tau ta insistencia
* Véanse las otras cuatro partes.
[215j
PARTE ESPAMOLA
3H
que le era imposible coordinar sus ideas. ïauto se enfureci(> contra el
animal, que en un accesode impaciencia exclama : — ; También podri'as
esnucarte ! — Apenas habia concluido de pronunciar estas palabras
cuando cay('» al suelo, inerte y muerto el caballo, de manera que su pri-
mer deseo se habi'a realizado. Como nuestro hombre era avaro, no quiso
abandonar la silla, y colocândosela â la espalda, continut» el camino a
pie. Y se consolaba pensando que aiin le quedaban dos cosas por desear.
Andando por la arena, bajo el ardiente sol del mediodia, sintii) mucho
calor y se entristecii) por no encontiar el deseo que mas le convenia. —
Aun cuando — pensaba para sus adeiitros, — desease todos los reinos y
todos los tesoros del mundo, tendria aûn, después de Ibrmulado este
deseo, otras mil cosas que desear, eso lo se deantemano ; de manera que
tengo que formular mi voto de tal modo, que luego me sea imposible
desear nada . —
Pero, en cuanto creia liaber encontrado lo que le conveni'a, inmedia-
tamente le pareci'a la cosa insignificante y mezquina. A renglon seguido
se di<'> en pensar en su mujer que se encontraba tranquilamente en su
casa, en una habitaciôn fresca y comiendo con excelente apetito. Esta
idea le lleno de despecho, y sin darse cuenta de lo que hacia murmuro :
— Antes que tener que llevar esta silla â cuestas, quisiera que mi mujer
cstuviese sentada en ella y que no pudiese levantarse. — Y en cuanto la
iiltima palabra hubo salido de sus labios, la silla habia desaparecido de
sus hombros y vio que su segundo deseo se habia realizado también.
Y entonces fué cuando sinti('» verdadero calor, y poniéndose a correr
se dirigii) â su casa con objeto de aislarse en un rincôn y reflexionar con
calma â fin de que el ûltimo voto fuese verdaderamente grande.
Pero, al llegar y abrir la puorta de su habitaciôn encontn) en medio â
su mujer sentada en la silla, de la que le era imposible levantarse, y
chillando y gimiendo. — Tranquilîzate, — la dijo, — voy â desear todas
las riquezas del mundo, pero signe sentada.
Entonces ella replie'»: — ^Para que me sirven todas la riquezas del
mundo si tengo que permanecer en la silla? Puesto que tu deseo me ha
colocado en ella, tii debes librarme de tan cri'tica posicii'tn .
Y, quieras que no, tuvo que formular su tercer deseo, â saber ; que su
esposa se viese libre de la silla, pudiendo levantarse, yen seguida el voto
se cumpli(j.
De manera que, mientras los pobres vivieron dichosos, tranquilos y
felices hasta la hora de su muerle, él cosechô ûnicamente despecho,
pesares, y un caballo perdido.
Hermanos Grimm.
Fin.
(Traducciôn del alemân.)
Dos Hadas.
I
Gallarda, bella, gentil,
Dulce cual beso de nino,
Cândida como cl armino.
Nevada como el marfil,
Pura cual l'osa de Abril
Y cual rosa perfnmada,
Reina sobi-e el mundo un Hada
Que entre tules y arreboP
1. Color rojoque se veen las nubes he-
ridas portos rayos del sol.
40
PARTE ESPANOLA
[216]
Tiene por palacio el Sol,
Poi' soni'isa la alborada^.
Su acento es himno ([iic brota
Cuando se despierta el ave ;
Su hiz es fulgoH suave
Que sobi-e la lierra flota ;
Su canciôn es tierna nota
Del amor sanlo y feeundo,
De ese amor noble y profundo
Que, (Uial blanda melodia,
Rima el Hada : ol nuevo dia,
i El cielo que hesa al mnndo !
H
Centil, arrogante, bella,
Triste como accrbo llanto,
Tiene la sombra por manlo
2. Amaiipcer. — 3. Resplandor.
Y es pâlida cual la esti'élla;
Es un Hada que destella
Haciendo brotar beleûos'^ ;
Herida eu firmes empenos
Vierte por sangre arrebol ;
Es la enemiga del Sol,
Es la reina de los siiefios.
A^ostâlgica, misteriosa,
Va cruzando por la vida,
Sin ^encer ni ser vencida
En su lucba sileiu^iosa ;
Es humilde religiosa
Que bajo el sayal encierra
Paz para la bumana giu-rra;
Es flor ((Lie cierra su hrocbe ;
Es el silencio, j es la Nocbe
V^elando sobre la Tierra !
Rafaël dk Côrdoka.
Narcùticos.
Curiosidades.
La planta del aire.
La belleza de las ])lanlas de adoi-no, ([ue tantos aficionados lienc â cultivar-
lasen el hogar doméstieo, résulta todavia mâs inleresante cuando tienen uua
rareza parlicular. Entre las plantas excUicas que son ornato de las habitacio-
nesliay un gran numéro que han sido importadas de laColonia del Cabo. A
mediados del siglo XVII, antes que el pais fuese colonizado, los marinos que
pasaban por el cabo de Buena Esperanza habian llevado plantas raras â los
aficionados holandeses, que son, como es sabido, horticultores notables. Los
ingleses ban llegado ;ï aventajarles, sin embargo. Lores riquisimos cultivan
plantas, especialmenle orquideas, de un precio fabuloso.
Las familias de mâs modesta posiciôn cultivan en sus domicilios plantas
comunes, como los jacintos de perfume dulce y pénétrante. Sabido es que
éstos germinan perfectamente, sin necesitar otra cosa que agua y luz, pues ni
la lierra les es necesaria. Perohe a(iuiquc precisamente el Africa del Sur nos
envia unaplanla de adorno menos exigente todavia : la Uamada planta del aire.
La planta del aire crece y luce sus bellas flores de escarlata, oi'ladas de azul
profundo, sin que sea necesario rodearla de cuidados complicados. Tan mo-
destos son sus apetitos que no pidc absolutamente nada. Se desarrolla esta
planta graciosamente suspendida del teclio por un simple hilo. Es una im-
portaciôn que tiene gran valor para las personas {jue gustan de tener plantas
colgantes, pues no necesita macela' alguna.
i. Tiesto, cachano.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 6.
20 Décembre 1907.
8° Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
Hojeando un libro.
Muchas veces, pensando en las crisis literarias, he creido que las litera-
turas se parecen â los ârboles, que como los ârboles envejecen, y que, si
de tiempo en tiempo ofrecenlagunasconsiderables^debido es a que uadie
se atreve âhacercon ellaslo que con
los ârboles se hace: podaréinjertar. Y
lie pensado también (jue mieutras
los ârboles requieren ' ramas nuevas
para los injertos, los apropiados
para las literaturas deben buscarse
en los tallos de otras generaciones,
en los tallos que por no haber pro-
ducido ni flor ni fruto durante mu-
chos aûos, se han de encontrar llenos
de savia.
Mncho me sorprendia que los
poetas no recurriesen, siquiera fuese
por via - de ensayo, a este procedi-
miento, y todas estas ideas acudieron
en tropel â mi imaginaciùn al recibir
ayer un nuevo libro de Blanco Bel-
monte, â quien no tengo necesidad ^
de presentar â los lectores, pues de -^"7
algunos anos â esta parte han tenido sobradas ocasiones para intimar,
apreciar y admirar al ilustre poeta espanol.
Afortunadamente, Blanco Belmonte, que no ha querido dejarse conta-
minar ^ por la enfermedad literaria hoy tan gênerai, se ha cortado â si
mismo las ramas de las fiinestas infliiencias, y, después de haberse injer-
tado las siMidas lecturas de los grandes maestros que tan olvidados se
tienen, — algunos hasta los desprecian, — nos ofrece el hermoso espec-
tâcLilo de un ârbol en plena tlorescencia y cuyas ramas crujen al peso de
susfrutos.
Blanco Belmonte ha sabido estudiar la vida tomando lo bueno que en
ella se encuentra, y pasando, como buen poeta, por encima de lo malo
como sobre ascuas ; Blanco Belmonte no hadesdenado ninguna sensaciôn
artistica, por insignitîcante que fuese, y ha comprendido los goces que se
desprenden de los colores y los perfumes que del aima se emanan ; Blanco
(CÀAyiR.. /^/^►w^^.^r'^St^^'V/vi^-v*/^
1 . Necesitan .
[33]
2. A modo. — 3. Contagiar.
KSPAG. (i
42 PARTE ESPANOLA 1258]
Belinonte,quenaci(j paraser poeta, ha sabido seguirsucaminclormarse,
completarse, y hoy escribe versos transparentes y claros como el rocîo de
la manana, versos en los cuales se adivina claramente que el poeta par-
ticipa del rejuvenecimiento cotidiano de la vida.
Y, Blanco Belmonte, que sabe componer versos admirables, que ha
liegado cl dominar completaniente la forma y que su encuentra en plena
l'uerzadejuventud y deproducciôn,acabade publicar un libroque supone
algo mas y mejor que todo esto, un libro que no es una tentativa sino el
resultado de muchos afios de vigiiias y de estudios, un lil)ro que ademâs
de poner de manitiesto su vastisimacultura, supone unesf'uerzo superior
a toda ponderacion.
Merecedor de aplauso es aquel que teniendo las dotes necesarias para
escribir versos, los escribe ; pero, el que como Blanco Belmonte consagia
su esfuerzoâ estudiar a los grandes poetas del mundo enlero y los vierte ^
liel y primorosamenteal castellano, merecealgo màs (pie aplauso, mereco
algo mas quedudo encuentre como no sea en su [)ropia satislaccion.
Leyendo el libro La poesia en cl mundo, libro en el que se encuentran
las composiciones mas tiernas de poetas tan grandes como Victor Hugo,
Schiller, Sully Prudhomme, Guillard, Ephner, Lermontoff, Lamartine y
otros muchos, me he convencido de que Blanco Belmonte, al traducirlos
al castellano conservândoles toda su l'rescura y todo su sabor, ha demos-
trado, sin darse cuen ta deello, que les iguala en ta lento y que se encuen-
tra â su misma altura.
En el libro La poesin en el mundo hay paginas deliciosas, entre las que
se encuentran el preludio que el autor pone â su libro y la composiciûn
Alegr'ia que inspirô al poeta la lectura de la Trisleza de Lamartine; pero
si l'uesemos âcitar todo lo que de este libro merece ser leido varias veces,
tendriamos que copiar el indice, y como quiera que ni el autor ni el libro
lo necesitan, pues es obra que por sisola se basta y lospadrinosno lehacen
falta ninguna, terminareinos esta lineas manifestando el deseo de ver
pronto publicados los libros que Blanco Belmonte anuncia, libros en los
que seguramente podremos admirar la riqueza de sus rimas y los tesoros
de bondad que el poeta derrama en sus estrolas, sus estrofas en las que
siempre resuenan las risas de tresângeles, los ângelescon que Dios haque-
rido premiar la angustiosa y constante labor del poeta . . .
Carlos de Batllk.
4. Tiadnce.
Pobre Abuelita .
(De la baronesa de Zuijlen.)
j Que importa que la tarde te contemple
cou sus anchas pupilas de zaliro ! ....
j que importa que la aurora alegre entone
sus delicados himnos,
si es de piedra tu tâlamo, abuelita,
y esta el nupcial anillo
Del libro La poesia en el mundo.
:2591 PARTE ESPANOLA 43
brillando entre los dedos de tu mano
con el fiilgor ' de funerario cirio ! . . .
j Que te importa que luzcan los Abriles
y que el arroyo cante como un nino,
y (|ue el otono lânguido desniaye
y que en las copas se derrame - el vino,
y que vivan amores y esperanzas
en nobles corazonesno marchitos ! . . . .
Si es de piedra tu tâlamo, abuelita,
y esta el nupcial anillo
brillando entre los dedos de tu mano
con el fnlgor de funerario cirio. . . .
j Que te importa si vives en la muer te,
olvidada y muy lejos de los vivos,
que para ti la tarde no suspire
y el alba para ti no tenga idilios
! . . .
M. R. Blanco Belmoînte.
1. Resplandor. —2. Vierta.
El Aguinaldo (Fi?i).
Hasta aqui pudo llegar cl sufrimiento de mi amigo, el cual, saltando en
medio de la sala, y con voz estenlérea, apoyada por ol bajo continuo de los
pavos, exclamé : — ^Cômo? ^Qué es esto? ;.Usted prétende ponerme en ridi-
culo? — Nada nienos que eso, amigo mio, le contesté yo con gran calma ;
antes bien trato de cvitârsele â usted ; ademâs, que yo creo haber cumplido
con sus instrucciones. Usted me encargô una colecciùn de autores clâsicos,
^.y no lo son Pedro Jimènez y demâs? — Unas aves disecadas, ^.pues que les
faita à esas para serlo? — Un côdigo de leyes, yo le ofrezco un bolsillo
lleno. — Un semanario ; ;.y cual mâs â propôsito que una cuelga de chori-
zos? — Una colecciôn de cuadros, ;.y no lo son también los del tocino? —
Una obra de ingenio ; pues bien, 'segûn mi dictamen, pienso que lo es una
caja de mazapàn .
Perodejando à un lado las chanzas, amigo mio,^.parécele â usted que estâmes
aqui en Paris ^.Opiensa que en circunstancias semejantes nos pagamos por acâ
de libres y de monadas? No ; sino, eche usted un pedazo en el puchero '', y
verâquecaldo sale. Nada de eso, no, senor ; todas esas son ideas romanticas
que aqui no pegan, por que nosotros (â Dios gracias) estamos por el género
clâsico. Esas obras y artefactos son muy santos y muy buenos, si, seiior ;
pero no podrian sacar â un hombre del apuro del dia, y asi lo agradecerian
los regalados como por los cerros de Ubeda. Y si no, véngase un par de
horas por esas calles de Dios, y verâcomotodos piensan deesemodo; recorra
usted esas confiterias, y observarâlas llenasde obeliscos y templetes(pruebas
felices de nuestra arquitectura) ; verâ en las diversas piezas de dulces y
mazapanes la imitaciôn de la naturaleza tan recomendada por los artistas ;
desengânese usted ; estes y no otros cuadros necesitamos en nuestra galeria.
jEstatuas, pinturas, prodiicciones raras de très reinos! ; Bravo! Asômese
usted à ese balcon y verâlas cruzar en todos sentidos, pero solo del reino
1. Gocido.
44 PARTE ESPANOLA [260]
animal y algunas pocas del végétal, para la colecciôn de Noche Buena : en
cuanto â piedras ifuego! Cômaselas qulen las quiera. Mire Tisted, mire usted
lodos esos mozosque cargados van ; pues todo lo que llevan es producto de
nueslras tabricas. Vea usted ; chocolaté. .. longanizas. .. confitura. . .turron...
jY luego diràn que no hay industria! Pero acabemos de una vez ; venga
usted conmigo, y observe lo que sea digno de observar. Y no hubo mâs,
sino que, agarrândole del brazo, di con él en medio de la plaza Mayor.
Pasmado** se halLiba el bravo^ oticial al considcrar toda aquella provision
de vivei-es capaz de asegurar â la poblaciôn de Pékin, y bien que acostunibrado
al redoble del parclie'" 6 al estampido del caiîôn, todavia se le hacia inso-
porlable cl espantoso clamoreo de los vendedores y vendedoras de dulces;
el peslitero olor de los besugos vivitos de hoy ; el zumbido de los instrumcntos
riisticos, zanibombas y panderos, chicharas y tambores, rabeles y casta-
iiuelas ; el monosilabo canto de los pavos y las cscalas de las gallinas, que
aladosyconfundidosen manojos cabeza abajo.pendian de los fuertes honibros
de gallegos y asturianos ; el rechinar de las carretas que entraban por cl arco
de Toledo henchidas de cajones, que en énormes rôtulos dcnunciaban â la
opinion piiblica los dichosos â quienes iban dirigidas ; la no interrumpida
cadena de aldeanos y aldeanas montados en sus poUinos, que se encaminaba
â las casas de sus conocidos de la corle à pasar las pascuas â mesa y manlel,
en jusla retribuciôn de una alcantai'illii de arrope à una ccslita de boUos que
traian de su lugar ; el eterno grunir de los miichaclios, cual por (jue un mal
intencionado lehabia picado el rabel, cual por que un ascsino le liabia llevado
de un embiôn onlrambas piernas del pastor del arcabuz 6 de la charrita de
Belén ; y en tin, cl aniuiado canto de los ciegos que entonaban sus villancicos
delante de las ticndas de beber.
— l Cômo (exclamaba el extranjero), y es esta la naciôn sobria y taci-
turna ? — Eslo sin duda, pero dulce est desipere in loco, y algùn dia en cl ano
habiamos de hacer traicién à nuestro inévitable puchero y nuestra clerna
prosopopeya. — i Mas como puede llegar à consumirse loda esta provision,
que parece destinada â sostener un sitio de cuatro meses? — Yo le dire â
usted. Dedicândose todos â la gastronomia durante las vacaciones ; reprodu-
ciéndose casi todos los dias los convites defamilia ; poniéndose unos â otros
en contribucion de aguinaldo para sostenerlos ; aumentândose notablemente
la poblaciôn de Madrid con el rel'uerzo de los lugares cij-cunveçinos, y dando
rienda suelta para comer y cenar â soldados y muchachos.
l Y en taies momeiitos prétende usted que se aprecien los obsequios que
usted preparaba? No, amigo mio, sea usted romano en Romu ; expida desde
este central deposito de avesy lurrones ; omita el acompanarlos con élégantes
misivas ; que si ellos fuerendc ley, ellos hablarân por uslod, y si son malos,
todaslas espistolasde Cicerôn no bastarian â hacerlos biienos. Recori'a despucs
las casas de los obscquiados, y verâ que toda la alegria del licor malagueno
se ha trasladado â los semblantes, y toda ladulzuradel mazapânse ha comu-
nicado à los labios.
Meso.nero Romanos.
(El Curioso Parlante.)
8. Asombrado. — 9. Valiente. — 10. Tambor.
Tardes de Invierno.
Introducciôn.
i Que triste es el color gris del cielo ! Azota cl vicnto las allas cumbres y
desriende en râtagas al valle. Las hicrbas de los prados besan cl suelo.
l Ois crugir las carcomidas tablas de nuestra choza ? Llamea el hogar ; y,
[261j PARTE ESPANOLA 45
no bien déjà el humo los medio encendidos lenos, se esparce en remolinos
por la eslancia. Ycd como chispea el caldero que cuelga del llar. Cae el hoUin
por los bordes de la chimenea.
Esta nevando. j Cuân bella y silenciosamente baja à la ticrra ese manâ de
los campos ! Pai-ecen flores los copos que caen sobre las plantas de la huerta.
Mirad los cerros de enfrente. Apenas se les distingue en medio de la niebla.
i Gômo ci-ecen à. la vista los objetos ! i. No es aquella la humilde cruz de pie-
dra en cuvas gradas cubiertas de musgo nos sentamos antes de doblar la
cumbrc ?
Os estais estremeciendo de frio. Mucbacho, Irae rétama y bnenos troncos
de pino. Arda cl hogar y suba la alcgrc llama al cielo. Y en tanto que crujan
y castaiïeteen los leiïos, y suene el agua del caldero en sonoro zimibido, é
hierva y se agite en raudas olas como la de un mar borrascoso, bebamos y
platiquemos', al amor del fuego, en buena paz y compania.
l Sobre que sercâ la piâtica ? — i Ah ! ;, te gustan â ti los cuentos sobre las
hechiceras y las hijas del agua?.... — ^^ Y â ti los combates ?— i Y ta ti las
desventuras del cazador perdido en el bosque y las del paslor enamorado ? —
Las hechiceras y las hijas del agua te turban la razôn y los sentidos. No te
atreves k moverte en las tinieblas. Te espanta de noche tu misma sombra.
Escondes la cabeza debajo de las sâbanas. Ves al través de tus pârpados esos
montidos fantasmas, evocados sin césar por la poderosa voz de la poesia. No,
no te convienen â ti los cuentos de hadas.
— ^.Qué ves ti'i en las batallas, hijo mio, para que te complazcas en que te
las reticran?— Dices que se te figura oir el i-edoble de los tambores y el tré-
mulo son de las cornetas, los ayes ^ de los moribundos confundidos con el
relinchar de los caballos y el pavoroso estruendo de la pelea, los alaridos^
de triunt'o de los vencedores en confusa mezcla con el rumor de los que huyen
sinticndo sobre si las lanzas de sus enemigos ; que ves levantarsc â tus ojos
entre nubes de polvo y humo de los dos ejércitos, â los combatientes con
sus armas y capacetes, que relumbran '' como heridos del rclâmpago al
fuego de los cafiones ; y que ves flotar al aire las banderas y los cstandartes
trepados por la metralla, y el suelo tinto en sangre, la sangre de los heridos
saltando bajo la herradura del intrépido caballo. Pero, todo esto te hace sonar
y luego pasas malas noches.
Tû ères mujer hija mia, y amas las aventuras y los cuentos. Guârdatc
de que te seduzcan. ;, Que es para ti la vida ? ^ Una copa de oro ? Si, una
copa de oro donde unos beben el nectar del placer y otros las lâgrimas de
la desespcraciôn y del rcmordimu'nto.
No os dejéis llevar nunca.hijosmios, sdlode la imaginaciôny cl sentimiento.
El sentimiento sin la razôn es lo que el relàmpago en ncgra noche. Deslum-
bra mientras brilla ; hace luego mâs profundas las tinieblas. ;. Que es sin la
razôn la fantasia? Mariposa que anda errante entre las flores, y despucs de
haber cruzado galanas '■' praderas y risuenos valles, dcja tal vcz abrasar sus
hermosas alas en la mezquina luz de un reverbero '^. Procurad comprcnder
ante todo si queréis ser hombres. ^ No habéis oido decir que nueslro
cuerpo es unacarcel ? La razôn es la luz que nunca se apagacn este calabozo
obscuro. No os empenéis en cerrar â la luz los ojos del aima.
Ver y no comprender, sentir y no comprender, i. es acaso ver ni
sentir para el hombre ? Sin comprender ve y siente también el bruto. Tenéis
abierto ante vosotros un gran libro, y no acertâis â leer en cl una palabra.
Vuesira misma personalidad es para vosotros un enigma. Os pregunto â
todos por que arde cse viejo tronco de pino, y guardâis silencio ; por que esa
copa de vino os conforta y calienta,y no os atrevéis â responderme. El
mundo, os ha dicho vuestra madré, es el templo de los templos : el sol es
1. Hablemos. — 2. Quejas. — 3. Gritos. — 4. Despiden destellos. - 5. Alegres.
6. Farol.
46 PARTE E8PAN0LA 2621
SU lâmpara de oro, los cielos mi bôveda, los montes sus altares, la hierba y
las flores de sus campos sumatizada' alfomhra. Después de todo, i. que cono-
céis del mundo ? La ticrra que pisâis, à vueslros ojos inmôvil, gira sin césar
sobre su ejc yrecorre una orbita inmensa en tornodel sol, fijo en el espacio.
Lo ij^norâis aun, y no dcbéis ignorarlo. Abrid el corazôn â la ciencia y
preguntad 6 preguntâos la razôn de las cosas.
Mas los leûos estân casi becbos ascuas : solo una que olra liama aziil corre y
ondula sobre la negra superficie de los carbones. Venid y ved, bijos mios. La
natuialeza se ba \estido de blanco como esas caslas virgenes que consagran
a Dios sunianoy su hermosura ; Que bien se destacau ahora aquellas cum-
bres sobre las agrisadas niibes ! Las ramas de los àrboles se inclinan al peso
de la nieve : mirad como vuelan despavoridaslas aves sin hallar donde reco-
jer el alimento de sus bijos. ^. No distinguis alli â lo lejos una como sombra
que cruza la falda de aquel cerro ? Es el biiifre que pasa casi â ras de la nieve
baliendo apenas sus exlendidas alas.
jQué solemnees en estos instantes el silencio y el reposo de la natiiraleza!
El labrador no dejarâ ya hoy sus hogares, ni las ovejas su aprisco, ni los
pastores su majada. iQuiera Dios que el viajero no pierda su camino oculto
l»ajo la nieve! jque no resbale en el hielo foi-mado por lanocbelria, ni caiga
con el furor del témpano al fondo de los precipicios!
Se acerca la nocbe, bijos, id y decid â vuestra madré que apreste la cena.
Poned sobre el blanco mantel viiestras jai-ras de lecbe ; liaced que ruede en
la inmbre el lamboril de las castanas. Mas, ;,no brilla aun el sol en los
agudos picachos de Occidente? No parece ya un globo de fuego sino un disco
de oro. jQné bella anreola la de sus grandes rayos, que brillan por claro
sobre el fondo de las nubes! l'na linca de luz corre como una franja de
azôfar ^ sobre la ondulante cresta de loscerros. Lno bay brnscamentecortado
en que no pudieron soslenerse los copos de nieve. Se présenta poi- obscuro
y no parece sino la boveda de una espantosa caverna.
[Natiiralczal juaturaleza encanladora! ^qiiién podrà agotar nunca tns belle-
zas? ;.qué pintor reunir en su paleta los colores de la tuya? Idos, y disponed
la cena. Dejadmc gozar à solas de este espectâculo sublime. Vuelve à sii-
bar el viento en las desnudas ramas de los ârboles, y el cielo â recobrar su
azul sereno. Quiero ver como la nocbe descoge su manto de estrellas sobre
los blancos valles y los blancos montes. Quiero contemplar â la luz de la
luna cômo extienden los ârboles sus inmriviles y misteriosas sombras sobre
ese sudario de la naturaleza. Quiero oiren el silencio de la nocbe las cien
voces d(î los arroyos que desalarâ el viento entre la nieve y elpavoroso rumor
de la reinota cascadii.
Siento siimergida loda mi aima, lodo nii ser en este mundo que vive de
mi vida y encierra hasla en la dormida piedra el espiritu de Dios, que
adquiere en mi la conciencia de si mismo.
[Silencio, silencio! no inlerrumpàis mi cxlasis. No trocaria por él lacorona
de los béroes.
IContinuard.) Francisco Pi v Margall.
1. (loloreada. — 8. Latôn.
Sarah Bernhardt y Edison *.
Las ruediis del coche dieron aun aigunas viieltas y nos encontramos
Trente â la casa del ilustre Thomas Edison.
En la galen'a nos esperaba un grupo de personas compueslopor cuatro
liombres, dos senoras y una sefiorita.
* Véanse las otras cuatro partes.
[2631 PARTE ESPAinOLA 47
El coraz('>n me latiacon lïierza : ;. cuâl de aquelloshombres era Edison '?
No habi'a visto ningûn retrato suyo pero admiraba su génial cerebro.
Bajé del coche. La liiz eléctrica nos deslumbraba causândonos la ihi-
siôn de que estâbamos en pleno dia. ïomé el ramo que madama Edison
me ofrecia, y al tiempo que le daba las gracias procuraba descubrir cual
de aquellos hombres era el grande hombre. Los cuatro se acercaban â mi,
pero uno de ellos enrojeci(j ligeramente y sus ojos azules expresaron un
aburrimiento tan angustioso, que en 61 adiviné â Edison.
Y yo misma me senti molesta y confundida pues me di cuenta de (jue
estaba molestando â aquel hombre. En mi visita vei'a tan solo una curio-
sidad vulgar, la curiosidad de una extranjera avida de reclamo.El adivi-
naba ya las preguntas del di'a siguiente y las tonterias que le harian decir.
Y de anlemano sufri'a con las ignorantes preguntas que le hari'a, cou las
explicaciones que la cortesia leobligan'a â darme, y, durante un minuto,
inspiré à Edison verdadera aversion.
Su maravillosa mirada azul, mas luminosa que sus lâmparas incan-
descentes, me permiti'aii leer todos sus pensamientos. Y entonces com-
prend!' que era preciso conquistarle, y mi espi'ritu luchador hizo llamada
â todas mis fuerzas de seducci(')n para vencer al sabio aquel, ti'mido y de-
licioso.
Tan bien las emplee, que média hora después éramos los mejores ami-
gos del mundo. Yo le seguia râpidamente, subîa por escaleras estrechas
y rectas cruzando puentes suspendidos sobre verdaderos hornos, y él me
lo explicaba todo.
Yo comprendia, y le admiraba mas y mas pues el rey de la luz es sen-
cillo y encantador.
Mientras estâbamos asomados â un ligero puente que temblaba sobre
un abismo horrible en el fondo del cual giraban y chirriaban inmensas
ruedas que apretaban anchas tiras, él daba con voz clara diferentes urde-
nes y la luz estallaba por todas partes, unas veces en chorros crépitantes
y verdes, otras en râpidos relâmpagos, y â veces en regueros serpentines
semejantes â arroyos de fuego.
Yo miraba â aquel hombre de estatura mediana, cabeza un poco
grande, perlil lleno de nobleza, y pensé en Napoléon 1°. Entre estos dos
hombres existe cierto parecido fisico y estoy segura de que en su cerebro
se encontrari'a una celdilla idéntica. Claro esta que no comparo su genio :
uno fué un « destructor » y el otro es un « creador ». Pero, como aunque
execro las batallas adoro las victorias, apesar de sus errores he alzado un
altar en mi corazôn â ese dios de la muerte y â ese dios de la gloria que
se Uamô Napoléon.
De manera pues que miraba â Edison, y con elpensamiento comparaba
su imagen â la del gran muerto.
El ruido ensordecedor de las mâquinas, la cegadora rapidez de los
cambios de luz, todo unido me hacia perder la cabeza, y olvidando el
sitio donde me encontraba me apoyé en el ligero parapeto que me sepa-
rabadel abismo con tan grande inconsciencia del peligro, que aun antes
de haberme repuesto de mi sorpresa, Edison me habia Uevado hasta una
habitaciôn y me habi'a instalado en una butaca, sin que de ello conserve
el mas ligero recuerdo. Poco después me contô que el vértigo se habi'a
apoderado de mf. Sarah Bernhardt.
48 PARTE espaSola 12641
El Cohete.
Del regocijo ' popular formado
Tiene en la mechamomentânea ciina :
Es un amante de la blanca luna
Que tras ella se lanza enamorado.
Su principio y su fni se han abrazado :
No queda de su luz huella ninguna,
Semejante al amor y a la fortuna
Que apenas vienen cuando va han pasado.
Rompiô la sombra en vi'vidos - falgores
Ysncumbi(') cual disparada tlecha
Yi'ctima de sus mismos respl and ores :
Asi la dicha, nunca satisfecha,
Al cielo sube en curvas de colores
Y baja luegoen làgriinas deshecha.
Antonio Gkilo.
i. Alegria, gozo. — 2. Vivaces.
Crepûsculo.
Rucdan las hojas, se nubla el cielo,
Las golondrinas tienden el vuelo,
Tallos y nidos miiertos estân ;
Y cual his rosas de los rosales,
Y cual las aves de los nidales,
Las ilusiones huyen.-.jse van!
Rafaël de Côrdoba.
Guriosidades.
El elefante mas pequeno .
Generalmente el mérito de los clefantes consiste en su gran tamano ;
pero une hay al que le sucede todo le contrario, porque el animal es precisa-
mente notable por su pequenez. Ha nacido en las inmediaciones de Londres
y su talla apenas excède ' â la de un perro de Terranova.
Ha hecho ganar mucho dinero û su amo, que le ha exhibido por loda
Europa como el elefante mâs pequeno del mundo. Se ha dado el caso,
curioso y amenazador para las ganancias de su exhibiciôn, de que apenas
ha sido presentado en pùblico, se han presentado cuatro 6 cinco probosci-
deos, de que no se ténia noticia, disputândole su campconato de elefante
enano. Asi es la curiosidad humana : un elefante del tamano de un perro
de Terranova es un objeto suficientemente notable por si mismo ; pcro si se
descubre un segundo que mide dos centimetros menos que el primcro,
este pierde inmediatamente todo su prestigio.
Afortunadamente para Tom, que asi se llama este diminutu elefante, sigue
hasta el dia conservando el record de la pequenez.
1. Apenas es mayor.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 7. 5 Janvier 1908. %^ innée.
PARTE ESPANOLA
La Geografia
Base para el estudio de la Historia.
La mâs sencilla, la mayor recomendaciôn de esta ciencia, se encierra en
su nombre ; porque geografia quiere decir tanto como pintura 6 descripciôn
de la tierra. Pero si reflcxionâis que ella debe condiiciros ai conooimiento
del lui^ar que fué senalado â nuestro planeta en el gran sistema del universo,
al de su figura y tamano, al de lt»s climas y regiones en que esta dividido,
de los mares que le abrazan ', de les montanas que le cruzan, de los pueblos
y naciones que le habilan, y, finalmente, al de esta superabundancia de
los bienes y consuelos que la bondad del Criador derramô en su superficie,
6 encerrô en sus entranas para dicha del hombre, fàcilmente concebiréis
cuânta sea la extension, cuânta la excelencia de este nuevo estudio.
Pero esta excelencia se realzarâ mâs â vuestros ojos cuando, reuniendo el
estudio de la historia al de la geogratia, consideraréis la tierra como morada
del género humano. Entonces este estudio, levantândoos â mâs alla contem-
placiôn, os pondra delante los hombres de todos los tiempos, como los de
todos los paises, las varias sociedades en que se reunieron, las leyes é insti-
tuciones por que se gobernaron. los ritos, usos y costumbres que los distin-
guieron. El os descubrirâ las sécrétas causas y las grandes revoluciones que
levantaron los imperios de la tierra, y los borraron de su sobrehaz- ; y el
râpido toirente de tantas generaciones, viendo al hombre subir lentamente,
desde la mâs estûpida ignorancia hasta la mâs alla iluslraciôn, 6 caer precipi-
fado desde las virtudes mâs sublimes â la depravaciôn mâs corrompida, y
conoceréis que no puede presentârseos un estudio mâs provechoso ni mâs
digno del hombre.
Y todavia este estudio recibe mayor recomendaciôn por el auxilio (jue
presta â las demâs ciencias; pues si bien se adelanta y perfecciona porellas,
tambien las vuelve con usura loque recibe concurriendo â perf'eccionarlas.
El conocimiento de la naturalezaes el fin â que se encaminan todas las cien-
cias ; pero el hombre no puede subir â este conocimiento sino por el estu-
dio del planeta do^ tiene su morada, y por el examen de las relaciones que
le enlazan con el gran sistema del universo. La misma astronomia, que mâs
que otra algima ha concurrido â ilustrar los principios geograficos, parte
desde el conocimiento de este planeta â contemplar los cielos, y bnsca en él
sus punlos de apoyo para fijar la situaciôu de losastros, seiialar sus drbitas,
y seguir su curso en los inmensos desiertos del espacio. En él toma la geo^
metria el lipo original y eterno de sus medidas, para perfeccionar susteorias
y aplicarlas después âtantos usos pùblicos como lo hacen recomendable. La
geografia dirige al navegante por los incierlos mares, al mismo liempo que
abre al gpôlogo todos los ângulos de la tierra, y conduciendo por su inmenso
âmbito al historiador y al estudioso de la naturaleza desenvuelve â sus ojos
1. Rodean. —2. Superficie. — 3. Doiide.
[39] fisPAG. 7
50 PARTE BSPANOLA [306]
todos los seres que debe descubrir, todos los hechos que debe recoger, todos
los fenômenos que debe sonieler â la observaciôn y â la experiencia, para
indagar '' estas levés eternas â que obede^-e constantemente el universo y que
foruian el graude y universal objeLo de las ciencias. Pero las que perteuecen
à la politica tienen aim màs clara dependencia de la geojiral'ia. <•. Pueden
por Ventura, sin su conocimiento, organizarse las sociedades, ni regularse
su gobierno ? Ella es la que fija sus limites y los subdivide ; la que détermina
los objetos de las levés y su conveniencia, y la que senala la necesidad y
el provecho de sus inslituciones. Sin ella no puede la politica combinar sus
empresas; la magislratura dirigir su vigilancia y providencias ; ni la econo-
mia perfeccionar su sistema y sus planes. La agricultura, la industria y
el comercio, deben consultarla àtodas horas, ya sea para dirifiir sus opera-
ciones, ya para reedificar sus câlculos, 6 ya para buscar, delerminar y exten-
der la esfera de los consumos; y si es cierLo que las ciencias morales se
apovanprincipalmente sobre el conocimiento del tiombre,;, cuànta luz, cuânto
auxilio no podrân esperar de la gcografia histôrica, la ùnica que le puede
presontar en todas las épocas, en todos los climas, en todos los estados y en
todas las situaciones de la vida pûblica y privada?
No os negaré yo que los hombres abusando de la geografia, ban prostituido
sus luces â la direcciôn de tantas sangrientas guerras, tantas féroces conquis-
las, tantos horrcndos planes de destrucciôn exterior y de opresiôn interna,
como ban alligido al génère humano ; pero <-.quién se atreve â iniputar â esta
ciencia inocente y provechosa las locuras y atrocidades de la ambicién ? ^.No
sera mâs justo atribnir â sus luces estes pasos, tan lentos, pero tan seguros,
con que el género bumano cauiina liacia la época que debe réunir todos sus
individuos en paz y auiistad santa ? ;.No sera màs glorioso esperar que la poli-
tica, desprendida de la ambiciôn é ilustrada por la moral, se darâ priesa ^ à
estrechar estos vinculos'' de amory fraternidad universal, que ninguna razôn
ilustrada desconoce, que todo corazôn pure respeta, y en los cuales esta
citrada la glona de la especie humana? Entonces ya no indagarà de la geo-
grafia naciones que conquistar, pueblos que oprimir, regiones que cubrir de
luto y orfandad, sino paises ignorados y desierlos, pueblos condenados à
obscuridadé mfortunio,para volar à su consuelo, llevândoles,con las virtudes
humanas, con las ciencias utiles y con las artes pacificas, todos los dones de
la abundancia y de la paz, para agregarlos'' à la gran familia del género
humano, y para llcnar asi el mâs santo y sublime designio de la Creaciôn...
Mientras la envidia pesa en injusta balanza la sangre y lâgrimas de tantos
pueblos descubiertos y conquistados, sin poner en elles la santa moral, las
leyes juslas y las instituciones benéficas, que recibieron en camlùo, saquemos
nosotros una util lecciôn de estas pasadas glorias, y veamos cônio Espafia,
después de haber despertado la atencion de las demâs naciones, y dâdoles el
primer impulso para que le siguiesen en tan ilustre carrera, contenta con el
fruto de sus victorias, y dornuda sobre sus laureles, empezô â desdenar los
estudios â que los debiera ; y cômo olvidândolos, casi por dos siglos enteros,
se abandonô â las especulaciones de una (ilosofia estrcpitosa y vacia, en tanto
que otros pueblos, contemplando los cielos, explorando la tierray cultivando
las ciencias naturales, corrian â un mismo paso à la cumbre de la ilustraciôn
y la opulencia.
iQué época tan gloriosa no abre aqui la historia â vuestros ojos, y cuântos
ilustres genios no présenta â vuestra veneraciôn ! Copérnico, fijando el sol en
su trono ; Newton, reduciéndolas en un principio tan sublime por su sencillez
como por su grandeza ; Galileo, Ilelvetio, Cassini, Lacailley Herschel, descri-
biendo, poblando y ensanchando los cielos, y tantos como, buscando eu ellos
el conocimiento del globo, lograron^ colocarsu nombre entre los fundadores
de la geografia moderna,
4. Averiguar. — o. Prisa. — ti. Lazos. — 7. Afiadirlos. — 8. Consiguieroii.
[3071 PARTE espaSola 51
Su ilustre ejemplo infunde un ardiente espii-itu de investigaciôn en la filo-
sofia, que, aliada con las artes, inventa inslrumentos, perfecciona métodos,
niLiltipliOa recursos, y, doblando el alcance de la vista y las fuerzas de la
razôn humana, abre à su contemplaciôn los cielos y la tierra, y somete â sus
calcules, asi los cuerpos grandes y remotos^ como los imperceptibles y escoii-
didos de la naturaleza.
(Conduira.)
Gaspar M. de Jovellanos.
9. Lejaiios.
Tardes de Invierno.
[Continuaciôn.)
La Fuente.
El Padre. — Pues os sentis fatigados de la caceria, sentémonos en este
viejo y carcomido tronco, al pié de esta fuente deliciosa. ;Cuân puras y cris-
talinas son sus aguas ! Ved cuan fielmenle refïejan en este pequeno mar la
imagen de los castanos y las hayas. Corren alh entre rocas tapizadas de
musgo, y bajan con dulce murmullo â confundirse con las del arroyo que
serpcntea en la llanura. . . jQué bella es en todas partes la naturaleza !
Alfrkdo. — Bella, pero incomprensible. ^,No era en Agosto y no hacia un
sol abrasador la ùllima vez que bebimos del agua de esta fuente? Estaba
enfonces fria; y ahora, que el sol no ba podido derretir aun el hielo de los
charcos esta que parece tibia. ^,A que atribuis este fenônieno?
El Padre. — El agua de esa fuente, Alfredo, como la de casi todas, no
cambia de temperatura. Viene por debajo de la tierra â profundidad tal, que
no la afectan ni el sol ardiente de Julio ni las fuertes heladas de Enero. Si
la encuentras en verano fria y en invierno caliente, es porque de una â otra
estaciôn cambia tu temperatura, no la suya. El agua esta, por ejemplo, â
diez grados durante todo el ano. Si el aire que respiras esta en Agosto â
treinta, ^,c6mo no te ha de parecer fria? Si en Diciembre â cero, ;,cômo no
templada?
No te refrescarân, à buen seguro, en verano, ni te calentarân en invierno
aguas que pasen muy someras '. Participa la tierra de la temperatura exterior
basta unos ocho métros de la superficie ; y si corren las aguas â menos pro-
fundidad, es obvio- que han de estar mâs calientes en Agosto, nias frias en
Diciembre. Nunca, sin embargo, tanto, ni con mucho, como las de los arroyos
y los rios. Escavas, aun hoy, el suelo, y se templan tus manos. ^;Por que ?
Ponjue si esta la corteza de la tierra â cero como el aire, las capas inme-
diatas estân â uno y dos grados, y otras, mâs interiores, â très y à cuatro,
^Cômo ha de estar asi nunca el agua subterrânea â la temperatura de la que
corre por la baz ^ del globo ?
Ali-'redo. — Mâs el agua de este pequeno mar no la defienden del aire ni
tierra, ni puertas, ni paredes. ^,Cômo no amaneciô helada al par ■'" de la de
nuestros jarros?
El Padre. — Este pequeùo mar recibe de continuo el agua de la fuente :
esta siempre templado y movido. /,Cômo quieres que se hiele? Se hielan
hasta los rios ; pero los rios, ni reciben todas sus aguas del fondo de la
tierra, ni tienen dimensiones taies que puedan extender â toda la superticie
el calor de las que reciben elevadas â major temperatura. [Cuânto no tardan,
con todo, en helarse ! Arrastran en su propia corriente muchos de sus pri-
1. Muy por encima. — 2. Claro, que no ofrece dificultad. — 3. La superficie. — 4. Como,
lo mismo que.
52 PARTE ESPANOLA [308]
ineros cristales de hielo ; y si estos no se hallasen detenidos, va por rocas,
va por. miichas asperezas de las mârgenes, va por otros obstâculos, no veria-
mos niinca heladas las de corrientes algo caudalosas.
Mas ^en que piensas, Eduardo. que no atiendes ?
Eduardo. — Ved, Padre, esta pequena rama que acabo de levantar del
suelo. No parece sino depiedra. ^.Lo es realmente"? Recuerdo que nos hablas-
telsde aguas que pelrifican, de grutas y de cuevas â que han dado un aspecto
fantâstico. ? Tendrân tan maravillosa propiedad las aguas de esta fuente?
El Padre. — La tienen, Eduardo. Mas ^.por que la bas de llamar maravi-
llosa? Las aguas, al venir filtrando la tierra, absorbon sin césar particnlas de
las distinlas sustancias que atraviesan. Estando como estân muy cargadas de
âcido carbônico, pueden conlener en disoluciôn, mientras no salen de las
entraùas del globo. particulas en cantidad mucbo mayor de lo que pcrmite
su natnraleza. Llegan â ponerse en contacte con el aire y pierden de repente
âcido carbônico. Han de desprenderse de parte de sus clementos extranos,
todos minérales; val dar'' con materias tan porosas como las orgânicas,
los van depositando en los poros basla cubrirlas, 6, lo que es lo mismo,
hasta petrificarhis. Si esa rama, boy desnuda, hubiese estado cubierla de
hojas, te pareceria de piedra.
Ahora bien, Eduardo, supôn que brotan estas aguas gota â gota de la
bôveda de una gruta. Si el aire las évapora antes que caigan, van dejando en
la misma bôveda sus particulas minérales adberidas unas à otras, y formando
esas afiligranadas estalactitas que de tanta poesia revisten los lugares sub-
terrâneos. Si llegan â caer en las piedras del suelo, depositan en oUas sus
sales formando estalacmitas, y van siguiendo su curso de tiltraciôn ô rodando
fuera de las grutas en pequeîias corrientes, que no parecen sino delgados
hilos de plata. Calcula si en una larga série de siglos no han de trazar por
este medio las aguas, sobre todo en cuevas de alguna extension, labores
caprichosas, dignas de ser atribuidas por los poetas à la invisible mano de
los genios.
Ocurre'î no pocas veces, principalmente donde la tiltraciôn es abundante,
que las asuas dejan parte de suselementos extraiios en la bôveda, y, después
de su caida, otros en el suelo. Fôrmase entonces, en una misma linea per-
pendicular, una estalactita y una estalacmita, cuyos vértices llegan â encon-
trarse y coiifundirse. ; Que de figuras fantàsticas no suelen resultar de este
fenômeno ! En lo inlerior de las grandes cuevas no pénétra la luz del dia ;
se las ha de recorrer al trémulo resplandor de hachas ' y teas ; y aun el hom-
bre de menos imaginacifin vé en aquellos ricos juegos de la Xaturaleza, ya
virgenes envuellas en sus mantos, va espantosos monstruos que parecen rea-
lizar los cuentos de la Edad Media sobre los encantadores y las hadas.
Eduardo. — jCon que placer veria yo esas grutas ! No las hay en este prosâico
pais â que nos trajo nuestra mala suerte.
El Padre. — Tu imaginaciôn prédomina sobre tu razôn, y lo siento. La
razôn debe régir y gobernar todas lasfacultades del hombre. No séria yo por
cierto quien te llevase â esas grutas, aun cuando aqui las hubiera. Te lle-
varia, si estuviesemos en Cataluna, â las cuevas de las célèbres salinas de
Cardona. No verias alli quimeras, y sorprenderias, por decirlo asi, la Natu-
raleza en su obra de petrilicaciôn, viendo crecer por momentos las estalacti-
tas y las estalacmitas.
Las salinas de Cardona son montaûas de sal-piedra, que brillan con todos
los colores del arco-iris cuando reciben los rayos del sol después de fuertes
aguaceros que hayan sacudido la espesa costra^ depolvo que las cubre. Tienen
en su raiz espaciosas cuevas, por cuyas bôvedas van filtrando incesantemente
aguas, que, no por ser muy cristalinas, dejan de venir impregnadas de par-
5. Al encontrar. — 6. Sucede. — 7. Mecha de esparto y alquitrân que résiste al
viento sin apagarse. — 8. Gorteza.
[309] PARTE ESPANOLA 53
ticulns de esa misma sal por que han ido pasando. Tan impregnadas vienen,
que no cae gota en nuestros vestidos que no deje en ellos sal pui-a, sal que
sueltan, ciiando se evaporan. Figuràos si han de colgar de aquellas bôvedas
y brotar de aqiiel piso numerosas estalactitas y estalacinitas. Bôvedas y suelo
parecen alaraceados ^ : las ciievas, revestidas de blancos y resplandecientes
copos de no pisada nieve.
Pero nos ha llevado ya miiy lejos tu pregunta, Eduardo. (.Que se te ocurre
â ti, Alfredo ?
Alfredo. — ^, Sabes quecreo haberadivinado por tus ûltimas explicaciones
la razôn delà existencia delas aguas médicinales ? Porque si estas petrifican,
por traer disiieltas sustancias minérales, ^.no es cierto que segùn den en su
camino con una û otra clase de sustancias, han de tener distinto sabor y
ejercer sobre nosolros distinta intluencia?
El Padre. — Certisimo, Alfredo. Vienen filtrândose ciertas aguas por algn-
nas de las capas minérales del suelo, y de ellas, y solo de ellas recihen las
propiedades que las caracterizan. ^. Es tan tacil que des con la razôn de las
aguas termales, de aguas, como las de Caldas de Montbuy, que salen del
cafio de la fuente como del pico de una caldera al fucgo?
Os he dicho que la tierra â la prot'undidad de algunos métros no participa
ni del Mo del invierno ni de los ardores de Agosto ; debo aâadiros que tiene
en su centro un calor propio, que es en ella lo que en nosotros el calor de
la sangre. Las aguas que corren muy profundas pailicipan de calor tan in-
tenso ; y profundas pasan las termales.
Alfredo. — ^De modo que las agi,ias, â ciei-ta distancia de la superticie de
la tierra, estàn en verano niâs frias que el aire, porque no las pénétra el calor
de los rayos solares ; pero en verano y en invierno ttenen una teuiperatura
algo elevada por ese fuego interior del globo?
El Padre. — Si ; esa temperatura aumenta en razôn de la mayor prot'undi-
dad â que las aguas corren. Hechos recientes lo demuestran de una manera
irréfragable'". Se ha abierlo pozos artesianos donde la ciencialos creia impo-
sibles. Se ha perforado la tierra hasta una profundidad fabulosa, y se ha
dado al tin con aguas, pero con aguas termales.
Observo, muchachos, que se nos va cerrando el horizon te. Bajemos râpi-
damente al valle. Hemos de vadear el arroyo, y cuando llueve, viene raudo y
caudaloso. El puenteestâ lejos; el frio crece ; ei viento arrecia. V-'âmonos, y
contaremos, junto al hogar, à vuestra madré, nuestras aventuras de caza.
(Continuarâ). . r.< m
Francisco Pi v Mar(;all.
9. Adornados con taracea. — 10. évidente, irréfutable.
La Chiquita y la Grandullona.
Juan de la LIana vivia solo con sus cuadros en un piso alto de desman-
telado' caserôn de los suburbios. Pintaba lo que se le ocurria, sin esludiar
del natural, llevando el pincel por donde su imaginaciôn ordenaba; artista
de sentimiento, despreciador de la historia y de las ideas. Habianle premiado
con no se que medalla secundaria por una tablita- titulada Un perro hendo.
Un dia encontrô en una carretera un perrilo negro, de esos que no perte-
necen â ninguna casta, con hocico de galgo, patas gordas como podenco,
rabo^ peludo y orejas caidas. El animalucho ténia una pata rota y se lamia
la herida. De aquella nonada hizo el pintor un prodigio que le clasificô para
siempre entre ios artistas sentimentales. Desde entonces se le diputô como
un corazôn tierno, como un hombre sin tibra, de esos que van por el mundo
1. Mal cuidadoy escaso de muebles. — 2. Cuadro pequeno pintado sobre una tabla
de madera. — 3. Cola.
54 PARTE ESPANOLA [310]
llevando en el triste semblante y en los ojos melancolicos el duelo de los
dolores ajenos.
Cansôse un dia Llana de vivir en aquel circulo de infecundas tristezas, y
pensé en hacer algo que respondiera al giisto corriente, algo grande y nuevo,
un lienzo gigantesco, en el que palpilasen las luchas de la vida : mineros en
huelga, soldados en batalla, marineros peleando con el viento entre vêlas
desgarradas.. . el drama de la nialcontenta pequenez huniana en su rina
diaria con cuanto la rodca.
Juan de la Llana hizo entonces lo que no habla hecho nunca : leyô libros
y se llenô el cerebro de ideas ajenas. De Plutarco saltô^ â Shakespeare, de
Cervantes â Victor Hugo, recorriendo en carrera vertiginosa los valles y los
montes de las letras ; y asi, del poco dormir y del mucho leer, no dire que
se le vino â secar el cerebro, pero si que perdio el aplomo de su naturaleza
contemplativa. Sus vuelos por el cielo del arte fueron como los del ave que
lleva un plonio en el ala. Llana llevaba incrustado en su aima el pensamiento
ajeno, y este habia alterado su centro de gravedad moral.
Sentâbase ante su caballete, empujaba el pincel sobre el lienzo ; pero no
acertaba â trazar una linea con sentido comiin. Los pelos del pincel se indis-
ciplinaban, como si se sintieran dotados de vida diabôlica, rebeldes â todo
mandate, inclusive al de unirse para conducir el color sobre la trama. El
pulso temblaba, no obedeciendo el estimulo de la voluntad. El cerebro del
artista mandaba algo que los ojos, el brazo, el tiento, y el pincel se negaban
â ejecutar. El buen de la Llana arrojaba lejos de si caballete y paleta, pateaba
con furia. mesàbase los cabellos y dirigia al cielo sus imprecaciones.
— Se ha vuelto loco el pobre — di.ieron sus amigos.
Y con esta frase le dieron por muerto y sepultado.
»
* *
Al entrar un dia Juan de la Llana en su estudio, viô que le esperaban dos
muchachas. Una era pequenita, endeble^ nerviosa, morena, ojos vivos,
séria y circunspecta. Era la otra alla, gruesa, exubérante de formas, rubia,
la cara y la cabellera luminosas, los ojos rutilantes de fuego y de pasiôn.
^,Eran aquellas muchachas dos modelos que iban â ofrecerse al pintor? Sin
duda alguna. No lo supe entonces. Lo que si supe es que, desde aquel dia, ni
la morenita pequena ni la rubia grandullona salieron del estudio de la Llana.
Estaban con él siempre y él vivia en su compariia, sin abandonarlas sino el
tiempo preciso para comer, que lo hacia escasamente, con mal apetito,ycon
el mayor descuido de los placeres gastronomicos.
Los amigos de la Llana iniaginaron que este se habia empenado en alguna
grande y dificil obra para probar que su cerebro seguia firme y enérgico,
capaz de continuar la obra gloriosamente comenzada.
— Esta pintando — decian — un simbolo de la guerra civil : dos mujpres
que se disputan la posesiôn de una espada, ensangrentândose con ella las
manos al querérsela arrebatar la una â la otra.
— No, no es eso : pinta un cuadro inspirado en la literatura ossiânica. El dia
y la noche pelean por dominar sobre una isla. Ciibrela el dia con sus cabellos
rojos, incendiando rocas y boscajes, haciendo chispear las aguas de los to-
rrentes. La noche va borrando todas aquellas luminariasfi y entenebreciendo
el cielo y la tierra. Lucha hermosa, sublime; la del bien y el mal.
— No, tampoco es eso. Es que Llana esta cada dia mâs loco y se ocupa en
pintar sus locuras.
Asi decian los amigos y émulos del pintor explicando lo que le sucedia â este.
«
« •
La verdad del caso es que Juan de la Llana no pintaba nada en su estudio.
Apenas habia luz diurna, saltaba del lecho '' y se dirigia â su caballete. Sos-
4. Pasô. — 5. Flaca. — 6. Iluminaciones. — 7. De la cama.
[3111 PARTE E8PAN0LA 55
lenîa este un lienzo de cinco métros de ancho por cuatro de alto, en el que
no habia puesto ni una sola pincelada.
La Llana al entrai" en su estudio encontrâbase siempre con la chiquita
morena y con la rubia grandullona, que le salian al paso. La morena dormia
sobre un sofa; la rubia sobre un niontôn de uniformes, viejos brocados y
terciopelos anliguos que formabaa en un rincôn sucio lecho de polillay polvo.
La morena le decia al pinlor :
;A trabajar! ;A trabajar! El asunto que esta noche se te ha ocurrido es
excelente. Cualquier asunto es bueno si la inspiracién acude^
— Pues por eso, replicaba la grandullona, no puede trabajar hoy; porque
la inspiraciôn no ha venido. Estarà ocupada en otra parte. Trabajar sin ins-
piracién es lo misino que correr con los pies atados, volar sin alas y respirar
clonde no hay aire.
Y el infeliz pintor no sabla à quien hacer case. Si intenlaba pintar, la rubia
le quitaba el pincel de las manos. Si renunciaba al trabajo, la morena le
empujaba hacia el caballete. Era una lucha continuada, esteril y ruinosa para
el cei'ebro del artista.
*
* #
Todo esto es lo que yo habia averiguado respecte al pintor Juan de la
Llana; y por ser tan poco interesante como inexplicable habialo relegado
al olvido, cuando cierta manana vino â verme un aniigo mio, poeta simbo-
lista, desocupado extravagante, de esos que pasan la vida sin hacer cosa util,
y que vienen â ser los zânganos de la gran colmena literaria.
— Juan ha muerto, me dijo. Y ahora sabra usted que ya esta averiguado
el misterio de su vida. Ya sabemos lo que lo sucedia â Juan de la Llana. En
su estudio se ha estado verificando el caso mâs extrano que cabe suponer.
Si, amigo mio, si : el simbolo es la vida. Cada figura Ueva denlro de si una
idea, cada idea Jleva su traje visible para el cuerpo 6 para el aima. ^, Sabe
usted quienes eran aquellas dos muchachas que vivian con Juan de la Llana?
La chiquita era la voluntad del pintor. La grandullona era la imaginaciôn de
nuestro pobre amigo. La volunlad le mandaba trabajar; la imaginaciôn le
ordenaba que esperase el momento supremo, la inspiraciôn, sin la cual la
obra del artista es seca y àspera, como tejido de esparto. Esperando ese
mo'mento de perfecciôn suma, el artista se muere sin haber hecho nada.
Aspira â lo mejor y desdena lo bueno. Ignora que el arte es un camino, y
que para Uegar hay que correr, sudar, cubrirse de polvo, caer acaso, fati-
garse seguramente. Ese es el trabajo. Esperar la visita de lo sublime es con-
denarse â vivir perdurablemente con la vulgaridad. Nuestro amigo La Llana
ha muerto anoche. Las dos muchachas nadie ha vuelto a verlas. ;Claro!
jComo que solo tenian existencia moral y solo eran visibles para el pobre
artista! iPocoque sehabrâreido la grandullona de la chiquitina! La voluntad
del pintor era enana, anémica, sin fuerza, como una menina de Velâzquez.
Su fantasia era poderosa, una mujer de Piubens, mûsculo vibrante, sangre
câlida, vida tumultuosa. Lo llenaba todo en el aima de la Llana. Asi nuestro
amigo se pasô la vida soûando. No pudo trabajar, como no podrâ correr una
locomotora que carezca de caldera. J. Ortega Munilla.
(De la Real Academia Espanola.)
8. Viene.
El Avaro*.
Un avaro se quejaba â su vecino diciéndole : « i Sov muy desgraciado !
Esta noche me han robado el tesoro que habia enterrado en mi jardin, y
en su lugar me han dejado una piedra, una maldita piedra.
*Véanse las otras cuatro partes.
56
PARTE ESPANOLA
I312j
— Con todo — le replicô el vecino — de tu tesoro no hubieras sacado
ningûn provecho. Hazte el cargo que tu tesoro es la piedra, y asf no te
habrâs empobrecido.
— Pero aun cuando yo no me empobrezca, otro se habrâ enriquecido,
si, enriquecido. Y eso me Uena de rabia. »
Lessing.
ITraducciôn del alernân.)
Guriosidades.
El-dragôn de mar.
La imaginaciôn de los artistas chinos y la fantasia de los ilnminadores de
Occidente, cuando buscaban formas nuevas en la combinaciôn del animal y
de la planta, no
Phyllopteryx.
cen pâlidas ante las, rarezas- pintorescas queaquella realiza.
El pez anstraliano de que vamos â hablar, es un syngnathi-
deo, parienle del va extrano hippocampe ; pero este no es mâs
que una figura vulgar al lado del extravagante phyllopteryx.
Una cabeza esqnelética terminada por un largo ()ico nilin-
drico, un cuerpo ascélico de lineas angulosas terminado por
una inmensa y espinosa cola, taP es el animal. Pero este
espectro esta coloreado de un tono escarlata brillante, ma-
tizado en algunos sitios de lila y de oro. Los ojos de este
crâneo macilento son dos zafiros engaslados en dos topa-
cios, y este lujo de color no es nada en comparaciôn con la
riqueza de la forma. De todos los vértices de los ângulos de
su cuerpo parten apéndices foliâceos del dibujo mâs compli-
cado, que recuerdan las hojas de acanto de los capitcles
de los templos. Estes ôrganos existen hasta en el pico y
coronan la frente de cuernos ramitîcados y se hacen mâs
amplias sobre el dorso.
Bajo el vientre forman como patas estilizadas por un
dibujante modernista, y todo esto es carmesi sombreado de
purpura obscnra y recamado* de oro.
crearon seres
mâs bizarra-
mente décorati-
ves ni mons-
truos mâs extra-
nos que el p'iy-
Uopteryx eques.
La sabia Natura-
leza parece tener
à veces sus ho-
ras de locura,
y enfonces las
imagiuaciones
fantàsticas que
la loca de la
casa ' sugiere al
hombre, pare-
El hippocampe
llamado taiii-
biéncabaUito
de raar.
1. La imaginaciôn. — 2. Extravagancias. — 3. Asi. — 4. Bordado en realce.
Les Cinq Langues
N«8
20 Janvier i908.
Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
Tardes de invierno.
(Contiivuaciôn).
El Fuego-
l Me preguntas, Ediiardo, por que ardon y crujen esos viejos troncos ?
y tu porque os dije que no solo del tosforo, sino también del aire,
puede brotar '
fuego ?
El calor, es,
liijos mios, la
vida. Mana ^ â
torrentesdelsol,
iiierve en el seno
de la tierra. No
lo sentis en mu-
chos seres, pero
lo hay hasta en
elhielo.Concen-
tradlo, y ten-
dréis lumbre ;
despertad el que
diierme en la
piedra,elhierro,
la atmôsfera, y
veréis nacer fu-
ego como por
encanto.
Me pi-eguntas, Eduardo, por que ardeu y crujen
esos viejos troncos ?
Abrasan aun los mâs tibios ^ rayos del aslro del dia cuando se los
recoje en un solo punto por medio de una lente convexa 6 de un espejo
côncavo de métal brunido. Encienden fuego los indios restregando ^lapunta
de un leûo contra la superficie de otro leîïo. Incendia el viento dilatados •'
bosques, poniendo en roce las desnudas ramas de los àrboles. El herrero
bâte un hierro en su yunque é inflama con él su pajuela ^' de azufre. ^. No
babéis visto vosotros mismos saltar cbispas del pedernal berido porel eslabôn
de esos pobres colonos ? Las veréis saltar no pocas veces de las piedras del
camino bajo la herradura de fogosos caballos. Poned yesca en el fondo de
un tubo, coged el émbolo, comprimid el aire, y la yesca arde. Tritura el
(luimico ciertas sales en su mortero, y obtiene fuego.
l No comprendéis el motivo ? El frote, la percusiôn, la presiôn, desarrollan
el calor ocullo en los cuerpos. i Basla esle calor para que se inflame una
1. Salir. — 2. >'ace. — 3. Templados. — 4. Frotando. — 5. Grandes. — 6. Torcida
de algodôn, mecha.
[45] KSPAG. S
58 PARTE ESPANOLA [354]
sustancia ? I.a iiillama en ciianto se dcsprcnde. ^ Cômo queréis, liiego, que
no pucda mas el calor concentrado que esparcido ? Bajan los rayos dcl sol
V os inundan cl cuerpo. Si derramados ])or todos los miembros os le
calientan, recojidos en uno 6 en la centésima parle de une han de
abrasaros. Senliais anles en aquel punto el calor de un solo rayo ; sentis
ahora el de ciento. ;. No es verdad, Elena ?
Tu pi'egunta, Ednardo, es mucho màs concreta : ;. por que arden y crnjen
esos troncos ? En la naturaleza se presentan escasos " t'cnômenos que no scan
debidos â la acciôn do elementos de distintos cuerpos, que se atraen 6 se
repelen, se absorben 6 se separan, se prestan mutua vida 6 se dcslruyen.
l Qiicrréis créer que es imposible explicar la combustion de esos troncos sin
conocer el aire que rcspiramos ? Hay en él dos gascs : el oxigcno y cl azoe.
En oxigeno puro, ardon con màs rapidez y despiden una hiz desinmbradora.
No prodncc el oxigcno el fuego, pei-o lo alimenta. Dotado de una gran
tendencia â combinarse con los cuerpos combustibles, se précipita sobre
ellos apenas cl calor los pénétra, y no los abandona mientras existen.
Pero ;. que es un cuerpo combustible ? In cuerpo que, como esos troncos,
como el Carbon végétal, como el de piedra, esta principalnientc compuesto
de bidrôgcno y carbono. El c irbono es sôlido ; el hidrôgcno, gascoso ; el
carbono, capaz de calentarse y enrojecerse; el iiidrôgeno, intlamable. ;. Que
hacemos cuando deseamos que arda en cl bogar la lefia ? <•. No ponemos
dcbajo una lea * encendida, (Jascuas,('> rcscoldo,6algo delumbrc?Poncel calor
en libcrLad cl liidrôgeno de los Ironcos, (juc apenas desprendido y en con-
tacte con el oxigeno del aire y con el fuego dâ de siibito llama. Prendc la
llama en el carbono y lo calienta. Unese con cl otra cantidad de oxigeno, y
se forma gasâcido carbonico. Opérase la combustion : hay fuego.
Poned sobre los leiïos algo que impida el acceso del oxigeno, y veréis como
no se encienden ; ponedlo sobre las ascuas, y veréis como se apagan. He aqui
por que silban y no arden los troncos verdes ni los que eslân mojados hasta
que el fuego extcrior baya evaporado la savia 6 la humedad de las lluvias. He
aqui por que arrojamos agua à raudales ^ sobre los edificios que dévora el
incendio. Deticne el agua cl paso del oxigcno.
^,No babéis observado, por otra parte, como vucstra buena madré cubre de
noche cl fuego de la bornilla con una capa de ceniza ? La ceniza no impide,
pero si dificulta la union di^ aquel tluido con el carbono. Las asciuis no siguen
ardiendo sino lentamente. Duran basta ci amanccer del nuevo dia.
Preguntad, hijos mios, preguntad inccsantemente la causa de los fcnômenos
de la Naturaleza. No temàis pccar de indiscretos. Solo asi se desarroilay enri-
quece la inteligencia.
(Continuarâ.) Francisco Pi v Mamoall.
7. Mu y pocos. — 8. Madera resinosa. — 9. Con mucha abuiidancia.
La Geografia.
Base para el estudio de la Historia.
{Fin.)
Entonces fué cuando la politica, avcrgonzada d(> no tencr alguna parte on
esta gloria, empczé à inspirar en los gobiernos el desco de asociarse à las
ciencias, y aclamar y jirotcger sus designios. Y ved aqui cl noble impuiso
à que fueron debidas aquellas cmpresas mémorables que solo pudo coronar
la generosidad dcl podcr, reunida al amor de la sabidurla, y que levantaron
â tanto esplendor la ciencia geogrâfica. Premios senalados â los inventores do
[355j PARTE ESPANOLA 59
instrumentns, para combinar con mayor exaclitud las medidas del tiempo y
del espacio ; colonias de sabios destinados al Ecuador y à nuestro polo para
resolver la cnostiôn cardinal de la figura y tamafio de la Ticrra ; asti'ônomos
derramados ^ por todas las playas del mnndo, para dotcrminar ol trânsito de
Venus por el disco solar, la paralaje de este gran plancta y su tamano y dis-
tancia de nosotros ; navegantes cntregados à maros nunca conocidos, para
descubrir entre peligros y naufragios los helados continentes de uno y otro
polo... No, no nos es dado reducirM los estrechos limites de un discurso tan
amplia materia de alabanzas. Algun dia la descubriréis en la historia de las
ciencias, cuando, con los nombres de Condamine y Maupcrtuis, os présente
los de tanlos dignos companeros de sus trabajos ; y algûn dia también, leyén-
dola, honraréis con vuestras lâgrimas los de Cok, Malespina y Laperouse, y
deploraréis el maligno hado '° que se complacia en confundir en sumemoria,
como en la de Colon y jMagallanes, la gloria y el infortunio.
Espana, ccdiendo al mismo noble impulso, liabia asociado â sus hijos â la
gloria y â las fatigas de estas cmpresas ; pero como si solo hubiese recobrado
su antigua energia para liacer mâs digno uso de tantas luces y experiencias,
la veréis ahora acometiendo otra empresa, cuya grandeza se reconiienda por
su misma utilidad. Yo os lo recuerdo con tanto mâs placer, cuanto con
algunos nombres, muy caros â mi amistad, presento â vuestra gratitud el
del piadoso monarca â quien Aslurias debe este Institulo, y vosotros esta
ensenanza. CarloslV, siguiendo las buellas de su ilustre padre, y los consejos
de un celoso ministro, nuestro protector y compatriota, supo aplicar
todas las luces atesoradas por la astronomia y la nàutica al adelantamiento
de nuestra geografia nacional. A ella se debe este excelente atlas hidrogrâ-
fico que tenéis à la visia, trabajado con tan sabia diligencia y publicado con
tanta generosidad. El encierra un rico depôsito de utiles é indispensables
conocimientos, y él es el mâs irréfragable testimonio de la munificencia*' del
soberano y de la ilustraciôn de su ministro. Él tijô con eternas senales los
limites del continente de Espana, ofreciendo â sus pilotos y al extranjero
navegante una senda segura en sus mares, una cierla guia en los arrumba-
mientos de sus costas, una sonda y una luz constante en las radas y
puertos do quieran conducir susnaves. Nuevas cartas esféricas se suceden
todoslos dias, y enriquecen nuestra coleccion bidrogràfica, y extienden tan
importante beneficio fi los vastos continentes de nuestras colonias ; y, si
algûn hado adverso no detiene tan loable impulso, la hidrografia espanola,
ilustrando la mayor porciôn de la lierra, establecerâ el nombre de Espana
al digno lugar que ocupô un dia, y que le destina la posteridad en la historia
geogrâfica —
Miremos como una desgracia del espiritu liumano que sea màs propia de
su coiidiciôn esta inquiéta curiosidad de saber lo que menos le importa, que
la constancia en adquirir lo que mâs le interesa. i. Porqué correrâ desalado
tras lo distante y extrano, descuidando lo cercano y doméslico ? Observamos
con mâs aliinco el cielo que la tierra, y preferimos el descubrimiento de
regiones extraîias y remotas al conocimiento de nuestra propia morada.
Estudiamos con mâs afân la historia de Roma y Grecia que la de Espana, y
la geografia del Japon que la de nuestra peninsula. Y mientras podemos
senalar con el dedo el lugar que ocupa en los cielos unaestrella solitaria, y
una isla desierta en la inmensidad de los mares, ignoramos el origen de
nuestros rios, las raices de nuestros montes, la siluaciôn de nuestras pro-
vincias, y acaso el punto que ocupa en Espaùa el centro de nuestra circula-
ciôn, y el asienlo de nuestro gobierno : funesto abandono, que parecerla
increiblc, si, propio de la humana flaqueza, no fuese mâs 6 menos imputable
â todos los gobiernos. Gaspar M. de Jovellanos.
9. Esparcidos. — 10. Destino. — H. Generosidad.
60 PARTE ESPANOLA 13561
De como el Rey Don Fernando puso cerco â Granada.
Tomadas todas las ciudades, villas y forlalezas, que servian de escudo â
Granada, quedô esta ciudad desamparada y sola (segûn las senlidas expre-
slones de un escritor de aquellos tiempos) como un cuei-po sin miembros, como
un ârbol sin ramas, como una madré à la que han arrebatado sus Jiijos.
Estimô por lo tanto el rey Don Fernando que ara llegado el caso' de des-
cargar el postrer- golpe, à fin de coronar con aquel triunfo la complela
liberaciôn de Espafia; y apenas asomô la primaveraengalanando con verdura
y flores los hermosos catiipos de Andalucîa, salie de la ciudad de Sevilla
con un lucido ejército, en que se contaban al pie de cincuenta mil peones y
diez mil caballos, los mâs de ellos criados en las frondosas màrgenes del
Bêtise Envié delanfe al du(iue de Escalona con buen golpe de gente à fin de
que penetrase en el valle de Lecrin, asomândose â las Alpujarras, y des-
Iruyendo algunos lugares que se habian sublevado; en tanto que el mo-
narca seguia sus huellas para hacerle espaldas. Precauciôn tanto mâs acer-
tada, cuanto que al divisar los moros de Granada la hueste cristiana que
enlraba.por la vega en la estaciôn florida para talar las mieses y hambrear *
à los moradores, salieron con gran impetu y luria, dando en la rezaga.
Acudiô alll el rey con los condes de Cabra y de Tendilla, que mâs de cerca
le acompafiaban ; y trabando con ellos una renida pelea, los obligaron, mal
su grado •', â vol verse à guarecer detras de las murallas.
Entretanto el duque de Escalona se habia adelantado con su gente por
el valle de Lecrin, que en el mes de abril parecla un paraiso : y fué tal el
asombro de aquellas gentes, que nunca habian visto cristianos â no ser
cautivos, que ;ibandonaban sus hogares, llevando cl espanto hasta el
centro de la Aipujarra.
Pero lo que respecta al rey don Fernando, apenas diô visla al Padul,
ordenô que tornase la hueste; deseoso de asentar cuanto antes los reaies â
visla de Granada. A dos léguas escasas, en un hermoso llano, desde el cual
se descubre gran parle de la ciudad en magnifico anfitealro junlo â un ma-
nantial abundantisimo, y no lejos del caudaloso Genil, que se ensenorea de
aquellos campos, dispuso el rey que se asentasen las cstancias.
Era aquel lugar deleitoso, cuanto cabe en la tierra; perdiase la vista en los
extensos prados de un verde tan suave <iue parecian un campo de esmeralda.
Alli à mano el Soto de Roma, convidando con su t'rescui-a y corpulcntos
ârboles ; mâs alla la Sierra de Elvira, desnuda y pelada, como para formar
contraste en el hermoso cuadro : y alla â lo lejos, cerrando el horizonle, el
cerro de Uinadâmar con sus huertas y cârmenes y los magnificos palacios de
Généralité y de la Allianibra.
Cuando al salir el sol descubriô el rey Fernando aquella perspectivn, quedn
por largo trecho tan absorto y pasniado que ni palabi'a hallnba paraexpresar
su arrobamiento ; pero volviéndose, pasado algiin tiempo, al condc de Ten-
dilla, (( Poco hemos heclio (le dijo ; mâs mcrece Granada. »
Desde aquel punlo y liora no se aparlô de su imaginaciôn el placer que
lendria la reina en disl'tular aquellas vistas y encontrarse rodeada de lan
lucida hueste. Escribiôle, pues, à lin de que cuanto antes viniese â los reaies ;
« que todo no ha de ser (aâadia el princi[>e) lâstimas y pesarcs, como alla en
el cerco de Baza ».
Recibio la Reina aquella insinuaciôn con tanto mâs ji'ibilo y conlenlo,
cuanto que profesaba entranable carino à su esposo, y ûnicamente se apartaha
de su lado lo muy preciso, para atender â la gobernaciôn del Estado. Apresurô,
1. Momeiito. — 2. l'itimo. — 3. Guadalquivir. — 4. Sitiar por hambre. — 5. A pesar
suyo.
[357] PARTE espaSola 61
pues, su partida desde Alcalâ la Real donde se hallaba, y llegô muy en brève,
trayendo en su compania al principe su hijo y à la infanta Dona .luana.
Rccibiôlos el campo cristiano con taies muestras de alegria que casi rayaban
en locura : al ver venir â la reina, parecia que se habia terminado la guerra,
y que solo se aguardaba su presencia para recibir las llaves de Granada.
Ostcntaban los caudillos ricas vestiduras y arreos, flotando on las vistosas
tiendas sus estandartes y blasones ; el penddn real ondeaba â mereed del
vienlo sobre la estancia del monarca ; y la gente de las ciudades y villas des-
plegaba à porfia sus modestas galas, habiendo levantado de Irecho en trecho
arcos de ramaje, con guirnaldas y coronas de flores.
Atravesô la reina con noble majestad y compostura, por medio del ejército
que cubriael espacioso llano : y alpasar por delante de un grupode soldados,
acogiô con afable sonrisa (volviendo carinosa los ojos âsu esposo) la sencilla
tonada que cantaba el pueblo aludiendo à los desposorios de aquellos
principes :
Flores de Aragon
Dentro de Castilla son. . .
Empero S lo que mâs halagô â aquella tierna madré fué ver el alan de los
soldados por contemplar de cerca al principe Don Juan, objeto ya de su carino
y esperanzas. Era en efecto aquel mancebo de lo mâs cuniplido y gentil que
imaginarse pueda : bermoso roslio y gallarda presencia, corazôn noble y claro
entendimiento, vivo trasunto de la madré. Y para festejar su llegada, y que
empezase, aunque era de muy corla edad (apenas conlaba doce anos), à
aprender en tan buena escuela el ejercicio de las armas, dispuso el rey ([uc
desde â pocos dias se le armase caballeço.
Recibio la huesie aquella nueva ' con tal jiibilo y enlusiasmo, como si todos
sus afanes y servicios se viesen asi recompensados. Alli à su vista iba â cenir
el principe las armas ; y tal vez antes de rendirse Granada, tendrian la dicha
de que se trabase alguna escaramuza y rompiese el bizarro ^ doncel su primera
laûza.
El dia destinado à aquel acto solemne, amaneciô tan despejado y brillante,
como si el cielo y la tierra estuviesen de fiesta ; y al despuntar el alba, ya
estaba en oracién el principe, que siguiendo el ejemplo de su piadosa madré,
deseaba no dar un solo paso en la carrera de la vida, sin deraandar antes el
favor de Dios y su protecciôn soberana.
A la hora senalada salieron de su tienda los reyes, acompanados de prela-
dos, caballeros y capitanes. à cual màs ricamenle ataviados, y fueron â colo-
carse en medio de un ancliuroso cerco, formado de millares de guerreros,
tendidas al aire las banderas y desnudas las lucientes armas. Cosa de pasmo
parecia : en el momento mismo cesô el rumor de la hueste, ccsô el estruendo
de la artilleria, cesô el sonido de los bélicos instrumentos ; quedando el
campo en profundo silencio. Ni aun â respirar se atrevian, lemiendo fallar
al respeto debido à tan majestuoso acto ; y era cosa de ver el aspecto que
presentaba la huesie, vuellos todos los semblantes y clavados los ojos en el
paraje" que ocupaban los reyes.
En torno se veia, en reducido espacio, la flor y la gloria de Espana ; alli el
gran cardenal de Mendoza, canciller mayor de, los reinos, con su sobrino cl
arzobispo de Sevilla y el piadoso obispo de Avila, confesor de (mtrambos
monarcas ; alli Don Enrique y Don Alfonso de Aragon, juntamenle con el
adelantado mayor de Andalucia, todos 1res de regiaestirpe y de alto mereci-
miento ; alli Don Alfonso de Cârdenas y Don Juan de Ziiiiiga, maestres de
Santiago y de Alcântara; alli el condestable Hernandez de Vclasco, y el almi-
rantc mayor de Castilla ; alli los duques de Medinaceli y del Infanlado, al lado
del de Alburquerque y del de Nâjera ; alli los condes de Ureûa, de Tendilla, de
6. Sin embargo. — 7. N'oticia. — 8. Apuesto, gallardo. — 0. Lugar.
62 PARTE ESPANOLA [358]
lîenavente, à cual mâs esforzado ; alli un Don Alonso de Aguilar, que coronô
su gloriosa vida con gloriosisima niuerte; alll su hermano Don Gonzalo
destinado por la divina Providencia para eclipsar algûn dia la fania de tantos
guerreros.
Para que todo contribuyese à la pompa del acte, hallâbase en los reaies un
mensajero del rey de Tremecén ; el cual, temeroso del poder de las armas
cristianas, se preparaba con tiempo à granjear'" la buena voluntad del rey;
ofreciéndole su amistad y brindândose â pagarle cierto tributo al ano.
{Conduira .) MartInez de la Rosa.
10. Conquistar, captar.
Aventuras de caza.
Bubies y orangutanes .
Estaba viajando por ei Kwala Kaponas, cuando era gerente de la fac-
tor/a de Baudjermasing (Bornéo holandés) y acompanado de algunos
malayos debia visitar todas las kottas (aldeas indigenas) situadas en la
ribera ' del Kapuas, desde Petak à Kahayan.
Estâbamos en la l'iltima etapa, acaso la mâs pintoresca, y una manana,
hacia el mediodi'a, llegamos â un islote formado de arena blanca y me-
nudos guijarros -. En aquel punto el cauce del ri'o era tan estrecho, que
el ramaje de los bosques de ambas orillas l'orniaba un ti'inel de verdura
sobre el islote, dândole sombra y frescor.
Resolvimosatracary detenernos con objetodecazargallos salvajes para
variar un tanto ■ nuestro almuerzo. pero apenas habi'amos puesto el pie
sobre tierra cuando una bandada de bubies. grandes monos de un métro
veinte de altura, atravesc) la enramada encaramândose * con rapidez en
los àrboles de enfrente.
Nos observaban con curiosidad, y al parecer nuestra presencia les
extranaba. Algunos, los mâs jôvenes, se colgaban de la cola, se balan-
ceaban para acercarse, y se acercaban tanto que para tocarlos noshubiera
bastado alargar ^^ el brazo.
Mi piloto, malayo, y mi criado particular, chino, me habi'an dicho
que no solo la piel de aquellos animales ténia buen precio, sino que â
veces en sus intestines se encontraba una piedra verdosa, que en todo et
archipiélago indiano usaban como amuleto y que se cotizaba â quinien-
tos y seiscientos francos.
La ocasiôn no podia ser mâs oportuna, y sin hacer ruido préparâmes
nuestras armas. Los bubies, que continuaban sus juegos, serian unos
cincuenta.
Cuando los très remeros malayos y mi criado estuvieron armadoscon
sus fusiles, bicimos una descarga que produjo la cafda de muchos bu-
bies. Cada uno de nosotros pudo tirar très veces antes (pie los cuadrii-
manos, sorprendidos al pronto, se decidiesen â alejarse. Des|>ués, los
que habian resultado ilesos emprendieron la fuga lanzando lastimeros
gritos.
1. Orilla. — 2. Piedrecitas. — 3. Un poco. — 4. Subiéndose. — 5. Extender.
[359J PARTE ESPANOLA 63
En aquel momento, iina pol)re liembra, cuyo hijuelo habi'a sido he-
rido, volvi<) sobre sus pasos, se dej() caer desde lo alto de un ârbol, y,
cogiéndole en l)razos, apretândole contra su pecho, saltô de nuevo y gaiK)
una rama de un ârbol de la orilla opuesta.
Otro mono, aunque herido, se manteni'a asido por las patas a la rama
en donde antes hacia cabriolas'"'. Lloraba de dolor, y con los brazos se
oprimia el costado derecho de donde la sangre sali'a a borbotones.
El pobre animal nos miraba espantado, penetrândonos de un senti-
mien to de reproche y conmiseraciôn .
El espectâculo era tan impresionante, que nadie se atreviû a rematarle.
Por fin, reuniendo sus fuerzas consigui<) cogerse a una rama, se iz(V pesa-
damente, y arrancando algunas hojas que mascull(') con rapidez, se las
aplic*'» à la herida mientras se alejaba exhalando dolorosos gemidos.
Guando se remataron â machetazos todos los monos que yacian en tierra,
los malayos les abrieron el vientre, y de veintiséis que eran los muertos
sacaron diecinueve piedrecitas verdes.
Mientras tanto, mi criado chino Mao-Tsin se habi'a internado en el bos-
que, buscando lianas flexibles. Apenas habia andado cien métros cuando
de repente cayô sobre él una bola grisacea, y sorprendido, reconocio a
un pequefio orangutân que sin duda se habia caido desde una rama. Mao
recogiualcachorro, que no se habia hecho ningûn dano, y estaba exa-
minândole delenidaniente cuando de pronto un ruido de ramas rotas
resonô sobre su cabeza al tiempo que una masa rojizaobscura caia sobre
él rugiendo furiosa.
Apenas el desgraciado chino se habia repuesto de su sorpresa, cuando
se sinti('» cogido de lu nucapor una manaza velluda que le sacudia violen-
tamente, al mismo tiempo que sobre él caia una lluvia de formidables
punetazos. Mao lanzaba gritos de dolor y de espanto.
Al oirle corrimos en su ayuda. Un soberbio orangutân le ténia sujeto y
legolpeaba y ahogabaentresus robustos brazos. Al acercarnos, el terrible
antropomorfo abandoni) su victima y nos hizo Trente abriendo una boca
disforme armada de poderosos colmillos. Râpido como el rayo recogi('>
del suelo su cachorro, y antes de que hubiéramos podido apuntarle con
nuestros fusiles, desapareci(') entre la espesura.
N. Wells.
6. Saltos, volteretas. — 1. Alzô, incoiporo.
El Emperador Francisco José*.
Mi buenisima y querida Victoria :
Gonfieso que el joven emperador me giista mucho ; mucho calor y
muy buen sentido resplandece en la mirada de sus azules ojos â los que
no falta amable alegria cuando se présenta la ocasion. Es esbelto, muy
gracioso, y aun en la confusion de bailarines y de archiduques, todos de
uniforme, siempre resalta como e\ jefe. Este rasgo me llamo la atencion
* Véause las otras cuatro partes.
6'4
PARTE ESPANOLA
[3601
mas que otra cosa ningiina. pues en Viena también el baile es ahora
algo asi como uua confusicMi gênerai que dificulta mucliisimo el vais.
Sus modales son perfectos , exentos de ostentaciôn y de torpeza,
muy seucillos, y. cuando esta de buen humor, como eonmigo estuvo, son
alectuosos y naturales. Sabe hacerse respetar portodo el mundo sin darse
tono de autoridad, sino con sencillez, por que él es el duefio y senor y en
él se encuentra algo que le concède una autoridad que û veces los que
tlenen esa autoridad no pueden conseguir que se acepteni se ejerza. Greo,
que si la ocasioii se présenta, sera severo. Frecuentemente nos veîamos
rodeados de gentes que pertenecian a todas las clases sociales y segu-
ramente estuvo por completo â su merced, pero, no vi que su rostro se
alterase bajo ninguna impresiôn, fusse de satisfacciôn, fuese de alarma.
Carias de la Rehia Victoria.
Escrita en 1853 por Leopoldo I Rey de los Belgas â su sobrina la
Reina Victoria .
(Traducciôn del inglés.)
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15
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22
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23
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63
63
Curiosidades.
Para adivinar la edad de las personas.
Pregûntese â la persona cuya edad se
q niera adivinar en cuâl ô cuâles de estas
columnas se encuentra la cil'ra ' que repré-
senta su edad, Sùmense las cifras que
aparecen a la cabeza de las columnas
indicadas por la persona y se tendra
averiguado el secreto.
Un ejemplo. Si la edad de dicha persona
es diecisiete anos ella dira que su edad se
encuentra en la primera y quinta colum-
nas : sumando los numéros 1 y 16, que
son los primeros en dichas columnas, se
obtendrâ 17 que es la edadquese buscaba,
y asi se procédera en todos los demâs
casos. Al lado la tabla de referencia.
1. Numéro.
Les Cinq Langues
N»9.
5 Février 1908.
8° Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
vjo^ïy
I
Don Juan de Âlgodor, sena-
dor vitnlicio con dos grandes
cruces nacionales y varia?
extranjeras, soportaba resi-
gnado su mucho de asma y
su poco de gota, sin salir
apenas del hôtel suntuoso
que habia edificado, segi'in
decia, mâs que para él, para
sus libres.
En aquella biblioteca cspa-
ciosa con cinco ventanas al
frondoso jardin, como alba-
jasi riquisimas en lujoso estuche, guardaba Don Juan lesoros codiciados por
los idolâtras de libros viejos, volûmenes raros, l'inicos tal vez, incunables
de valor fabuloso, tomos revestidos de sucio pergamino, que eran joyas
de precio inestimable.
Alli recreaba su espiritu el buen seûor, que solo salia de su casa para dar
un paseo en coche, 6 asistir al Senado cuando era necesario dar su voto,
6 para visitar â alguno de los poquisimos amigos que ténia.
Calitîcâbanle éstos de raisântropo â causa de la vida (jue llevaba, por que
ignoraban que aquel alejamiento del mundo, aquella voîuntaria soledad, no
eran sino consuelo buscado para alivio de dolores muy hondos, de desenganos
crueles que habian amargado el aima del opulento Don Juan de Algodor.
nombre de corazén sensible, generoso hasta la prodigalidad, tuvo la
desdicha de tropezar con seres que jamâs correspondieron â sus favores.
Sembrando beneficios, no habia cosechado mâs que ingratitudes, y cuando
llegô â viejo, soltero todavia y dueno de una fortuna, apartôsc poco â poco de
la sociedad, y desde su retiro mirô de lejos con tristisimos ojos â la gcnle
que tanto le debia y que tan mal le habia pagado.
Entristecido por el pensamiento de que todas aquellas riquezas que la
suerte se habia complacido en otorgarle pasarian, cuando éi muriese, â
manos de parienles odiosos, llend su testamento de piadosas fundaciones y
creô un premio cuantioso - para la gratitud.
Una de las virLudes que mâs digna consideraba él de scr premiada y enal-
tecida, era la de corresponder â los beneficios y favores recibidos : para aquel
hombre, la ingratitud era impcrdonable.
II
El hôtel que D. Juan habitaba, situado en uno de los barrios extremos de
Madrid, hallâbase rodeado por un jardin frondoso con aspecto de bosque por
lo crecido v abundanlc de los ârboles.
1. Joyas. — 2. Muy grande,
[51]
KSPAG. 9
66 PARTE espaSola [4021
A la enirada, junto â la vcrja^ y no lejos dcl pahellon dcstinado al porlero,
liabia una casilla de niadcra de mâs de un métro de altiira por dos de anclio,
vivienda holgadisima donde, sujeto con fnerte cadena de hierro â un griieso
poste, pasaba el dia, sonoliento y perezoso, un énorme mastin mâs propio
para cuidar ganado que para guardar aquella morada
Cachorro iodavia se lo régalé â D. Juan el giiardabosque de una posesiôn ^
suya, como prueba de gratitud por no se que favor recibido lo cual basté
para que el amo lo estimase en mucho y le destinara sitio en que pasase la
vida lo mejor posible.
En la casilla amarrado ^ pcro sin faltarle nunca las escudillas â su alcance
(•on agua clara y comida abundante y apetitosa, permanecia el perrazo hasta
que se cerraba la verja del jardin y las puerlas de la casa. Entonces el portero
le soltaba de la cadena, y durante la noche gozaba el animal de libcrtad abso-
luta, gruùendo sordamente al mâs levé rumor ô lanzandu ladridos impo-
nentes si algun transcuntc pasaba cerca de las tapias.
III
Una noche de invierno, ya cerca del amanecer, ladrô el perro de tal nianera,
y con tenacidad y fîereza tan inusitadas, que el portero se desperlo, y, armado
con una escopeta, saliô al jardin, seguro de que alguna pcrsona extrana
habia procurado cntrar en él.
La débit luz de las estrellas le hizo ver, en efecto, un bulto que, agazapân-
dose*"' con rapidez, se habia ocultado en la casilla del perro.
Este seguia ladrando furiosamentc.
Monté el arma el portero, dirigiôse rcsuelto â la vivienda dcl can y dijo en
voz muy alta :
— Saïga de ahi al momento, 6 le descerrajo" un liro.
— Por Dios, por Dios — exclamé entonces una voz infantil ; — no me
haga usted nada ; yo no soy el ladrén.
— Sal de abi, granuja, pronto — anadiéel portero golpeando sobre la casilla
con la culata de la escopeta.
— Por Dios, por Dios — repitié el nino, ({ue asomô con mcdrosa timidez
la cabeza, sin atreversc â salir todavia.
— Vamos, ; fuera ! — grité el portero.
Entonces el nifio salie agachado, se puso en pie y, juntando las manos en
actitud de sûplica, dijo con la voz temblorosa:
— No me pegue usted. El perro no me ladra.'i mi ; Suli/mme conoce, Sultan
me (luiere
— i Eh ! /. Que dices? — preguntéol portero sorprendido al ver que el ani-
mal no hacia caso del muchacho y que, sin ladrar ya y sélo gi-unendo sorda-
mente, seguia 8 mirando hacia la tapia.
— Por alli, por alli — anadié el chiquillo, — ha (juei'ido entrar alguien, y
por eso ladralja este,
Sultan se habia acercado al granujilla, y frotando con su hocico laspiernas
del muchacho parecia afirmar lo (|ue este aseguraba.
En esto se abrié uno de los balconesdel hôtel, por el ijuc salie un torrentc
de luz, mâs viva en aquella obscuridad, y aparecié Don Juan de Âlgodor, des-
pierto sin duda por los ladridos de Sultan.
— l'rancisco, <. que es esto? — pregunté.
— Senor — contesté el portero, — no lo se. Aqui hay un !/olfo'\ un ladron-
zuelo, sin duda, que habrâ saltado por la tapia
— No le hagas daùo — dijo Don Juan ; — sube con él inmediatamenle ;
traémelo aqui.
3. Reja. — 4. Finca. — îi. Atado. — 6. Acurrucandose. — 7. Suelto, le doy. — S.
Continuaba. — 9. Pilluelo vagabundo (popular).
[403] PARTE ESPAiXOLA 67
Cerrôseel balcon, y el portero, cogiendo al pillcte por iina oreja, se dirigiô
al hôtel diciendo :
— x\.hora Uevaràs tu nierecido.
(Continuarâ.)
Miguel Ramos Carkiô.n.
De como el Rey Don Fernando puso cerco â Granada,
{Fin.)
Por mâs que los moros de Granada hubiesen demandado con premiosas "
instancias el favor y socorros de aquel principe, asi como de los demàs
monarcas de Âfrica, no pudieron nunca recabarlo.
El gran Sultan de Gonstantinopla, ciiya poderosa proteccion igualmenle
solicitaron, se contentô con enviar un embajador, que â la sazôn'^ se hallaba
en los reaies, asi como dos vénérables ancianos, que habia despachado con
un fin semejante el Soldân de Egipto. Este fué quien toniô màs â pecho la
defensa del islamisme, tan gravemente amenazado en Espana ; y haciendo
venir à su presencia dos religiosos del Santo Sepulcro, los enviô con tieros
y amenazas, para que hiciesen saber â los monarcas de Castilla, que si per-
sistian en su propôsito, vengaria tamana ofensa en cuantos cristianos visita-
sen los Sanlos Lugares. No se ocultô â la prudentisinia reina el grave peligro
que por aquella parte amagaba'^ ; y deseosa de conjurar la tormenta, sin
faltar â lo que requeria el decoro de la corona, ni aventurar la vida de los
desgraciados cristianos, estimô como mâs acertado ganar tiempoy adelantar
entretanto la comenzada obra. Motivo por el cual ordenô â aquellos buenos
religiosos que la siguiesen al campo, sentado va delante de Granada, confi-
ando en que, una vez tomada la ciudad, no faltarian medios de templar las
iras de aquel irritado monarca. Lejos de retraerla de su firme propôsito, los
santos varones la animaban : « Obre Vuestra Majestad (le decian) como mejor
cumpla al servicio de Dios y de estos reinos ; quecuando nosotros alla volva-
inos, por muy felices nos tcndrenios en verter nueslra sangre en el para je
mismo donde el Divino Redentor derramô la suya por el honibrc ».
No lejos de los dos religiosos, y al lado de otro, venido del convento de la
Ràbida, se veia â un hombrc de mediana edad y alla estatura, el traje sen-
cillo, pero el ademân noble, semblante melancôlico y la vista tija como el
que trae preocupado el ànimo con un solo y ûnico pensamiento. Habia dado
esto lugar à la burla de alguno que otro cortesano, y aun no faltô quien lo
luviese por loco. Solo la reina Doua Isabel era digna de comprender â aquel
hombre; y habiéndole acogido con senaladas muestras de benevolencia, le
ordenô que la acompanase al cerco de Granada. ^. Quién les hubiera dicho
que en el mismo paraje que â la sazôn pisaban, habia de firmarse el concierlo
para llevar à cabo la empresa nuis gloriosa que han visto las edades; y que
aquel hombre humilde, confundido â la sazôn entre la lurba, habia de dar
un nuevo mundo por tlorôn à la corona de Espana?
En medio de tantos varones insignes se hallaba el principe don Juan, â
punto de ser armado caballero ; y el que iba â darle aquella especie de
bautismo de gloria era no menos que su padre el rey Don Fernando, que
siendo aun niiîo, habia empunado las armas, sin haberlas casi soltado de la
mano en el transcurso de tantos ahos.
Habia el monarca escogido por padrinos de su hijo â Don Rodrigo Ponce
de Leôn, marqués de Câdiz, que era como el aima de aquella guerra, y sin
11. Urgentes. — 12. Entonces. — 13. Amenazaba.
68 PARTE ESPANOLA [404]
desmentir nunca su profunda politica, diôle por companero para aquel acto
â Don Enri(iue de Guzmân, diiquc dv Medinasidonia ; queriendo por todos
medios borrar hasta la htiella de la rivalidad de entrambas casas.
Al verse el principe entre aquellos insignes caballeros y su aiigusto padre,
pcrdiô el color del rostro, y el respeto le embargo el aliento. Hincôse '^ de
rodillas con ademân snmiso ; y desenvainando el rey la espada, diôle con
ella très golpes en la cabeza ; diciendo en alla voz estas palabras : « Dios
nuestro sefior é el apôstol Santiago vos l'agan buen caballero ; que yo vos
armo caballero. » Y en diciendo esto, ordenô Su Majestad que calzasen al
principe imas espuelas doradas, como al punto iïié becho ; mandando luego
que todos le guardasen las inmiinidades y franquezas y exenciones y prerro-
gativas que como â tal caballero le competian. No pudo el principe contener
las lâgrimas ; tan conniovido estaba : y con apagada voz rogô â su padre que
le dejase besar su mano. Hizolo asi rcsonando un clamor de alegria en todo
el campo ; y el rey le abrazô después, y lo mismo hicieron los padrinos del
principe y los grandes y caballeros que en derredor estaban.
Lo que enlretanto pasaba en el corazdn de la roina no es para ret'erirlo :
solo puede comprendcrlo una madi'c. ïan grande fué su alegria que sintiô
como un peso que le ahogaba ; y con su acostiunbrada piedad levantô los
ojos al cielo, rogando â Dios que bendijese â aquel hijo de sus entranas.
.\o parece sino que ya veia el cuchillo de dolor que estaba afilando la
niuerte y que con uno y otro golpe descargado sin tregua ni respiro, habia de
desgarrarse el peclio de aquella madré amorosisima, cubriendo de luto al
reino y segando en flor tantas espcranzas.
MARïi.NEZ DE LA ROSA.
14. Se puso.
Tardes de Invierno.
(Continua Clan.)
La Lluvia.
Desde esta altura se domina el valle : senténionos en las gradas de esta
cruz, y obser\emos atentaniente la Naturalcza.
;. No (listinguis una niebla, alla â lo lejos, bajo las ramas de los nrboles ?
Vedla como crece y se levanla. Cubre ya la colina, Irepa' por las l'aidas de los
cerros^
Me pregunlàis donde ha nacido ; ^. acaso no la babéis visto brotar de la
llanura ? De la humedad de la tierra, del agua de los arroyos, de las olas del
mar desprende el calor vapores, que absorve el aire cuando tibio^ y seco, y
condensa cuando frio y bumedo. Las nieblas, como las nubes, no son mâs
que esos vapores condensados. Nacen boy en el valle, maiiana en el monte,
al otro dia en el Océano, al otro en la corriente de un rio. ^•. No adivinàis el
molivo ? No anocbecerà tal vez sin que el viento baya llevado à otros paises el
aire que dejô surgir una al pie de aquella quehrada'\
Vedla aiin en la extremidad de esos campos. Lejos de subir, se ha exten-
dido à lo largo de las alamedas. ; Cuàn hermosa sobrenada'' en ella la flexible
punta de los chopos ! Parecen sumergidos en un lago.
Extrahâis como no \uela â lo alto de la atmosfera; dejaria, si tal hiciese,
de ser niebla. Las nieblas v las nubes no solo reconoccn una misma causa;
1. Sube, asciende, — 2. Altura peùascosa y àspera. — 3. Templado. — 4. Abertura
estrecha entre montanas. — 5. Flota.
[405J PARTE espaSola 69
se componen igualmente de pequenos giôbulos que las hacen flotar sobre la
ticrra. i. Sabéis en que se distinguen ? Precisamente en que las unas apenas se
séparai! del suelo, y las otras se elevan â gran distancia del punto en que
nacieron. (. Estàn mâs frias las capas interiores del aire que la superticie de
que el vapor se exhala ? El vapor no las puede vencer por hallarse muy
densas, y permanece debajo en forma de niebla. ^, Kstân por el contrario mas
calientes? El vapor se abre paso hasta ([ue da con olras de iiienor tempera-
lura, y forma nubes.
^, Que estas diciendo Adcla?<-. Que te dan las nubes enojo ■.%-, Enojo ? Nos
envian la lluvia, que fecunda los campos ; la nieve que los detiende del hielo
y la escarcha^ ; la tempestad que puritlca el aire. Templan el calor de los rayos
solares, impiden la inradiaciôn de la tierra. ; Desgraciado del pais sin nubes!
Cauliva^ un cielo sereno ; pero las nieblas y las nubes ;, no le dan acaso be-
Ucza? A ti misma, Adela, te he visto extasiada ante los claros arreboles que
dora el sol cuando baja â su ocuso 6 asoma por Oriente : extasiada ante el
oscuro nimbo en que se dibuja majestuosamente el arco iris ; extasiada ante
las coronas de la luna y esas blancas nubecillas queparecen,yaricospenachos,
ya cabelleras sueltas y esparcidas por el viento. Sin nieblas ni nubes que
pasasen por delante de la luna, ^^ tendria la luna auréolas ? Sin negras nubes
que reflejasen los rayos del sol, descompuestos por las gotas de agua de ellas
suspendidas^, veriamos nunca el arco ii-is? Sin nubes que recibiesen el color
rojo de la primera y la lïltiiua luz del astro del dia i. hallariamos nunca an-e-
bolado el cielo ?
No ha mucho, alla al caer* del otono, sorprendi â Ediiardo contemplando
como corrian y cambiaban de forma unos densos nubarrones que venian de
Occidente. Pregûntalesigozaba 6 no viendo aquel espectâculo. Yaleparecian
las nubes torrcs colosales, ya tiguras gigantescas, ya dragones alados, cien
veces mâs fantâsticos que los de la fabula. Ora se cerraban y apiiïaban,
aumentando la oscuridad del espacio, ora se abrian, derramando sobre la
tierra una luz mortecinay pâlida. ^ No es verdad, Eduardo?
ïoman infinitas formas las nubes, y no es, por cierto, raro. Ligeras, poco
6 nada compactas, de particTilas esencialmente movibles, se modifican al
nienor hàlito '^ del viento. <•. Contienen electricidad ? Se atraen unas à otras,
se repelen, se juntan, .«e destruyen, segùn sus condiciones eléctricas. Son
todas hijas de la humedad, del agua ; pero el agua puede estar embebida en
la tierra y en el aire. i. No es de créer que por esta razôn cambien de figura ?
La luz las hiere, por hn, desigualmente, y las viste de colores al estar el sol
debajo del horizonte.
Varias, muy varias son las formas de las nubes : ;, os sorprenderéis si os
digo que no es dificil predecir por ellas las mudanzas del tiempo ? Espcrad
dias claros si, ya en Oriente, ya en Occidente, veis arreboles de oro, por que
es seguro indicio de que no estàn aun condensados los vapores de la tierra,
ni basta â condensarlos él frio de los crepiisculos. Esperadlos aun si rizadas
nubecillas cruzan como bandadas de cisnes la bôveda del cielo, por que no
se presentan sino cuando hay poca humedad en el aire. Temed ya de los
arreboles oscuros, de las nubes de contoruos perdidos '", de las que revisten
la forma de monstruos y quimeras. Llevan estas el rayo en las entranas;
aquellas la lluvia. ^, Recordâis los arreboles oscuros? Son de un amarillo
cobrizo, y el amarillo es, entre los colores de los rayos del sol, el que
necesita de un aire menos denso para que lleguen hasta nosotros. Cuanta
menos densidad, mâs hiimedo esta el aire y mâs probables son las aguas.
Traed ahora, si podéis, â la memoria el aspecto del horizonte momentos
antes de que llueva. Las nubes, ha poco negras, son pardas ; oscuras en
el centro, van clareando hacia los extremos hasta ponerse transparentes-
6. Rocio (le la noche congelado. — 7. Seduce. — 8. En la proximidad. — 9. Soplo.
— 10. Esfumados.
70
PARTE ESt'ANOLA
^406]
;. Podéis decidir nunca donde acaban ? Las lluviosas otVecen todas el mismo
cai'àcter ; no las tempcstuosas. ^ No habéis advertido en las tardes borras-
cosas de verano cuan desiguales, pero bien definidas estân las nubes?A no
estarlo, no podria vuestra imaginaciôn ver en ellas fantasmas.
Observud incesantementc, hijos, el mundo que tenéis por morada : no
sienipre os daréis razôn de los fenômenos, pero los iréis reiiniendo y cono-
ceréis màs 6 menos tarde la ley â que obedecen. ;, Creias lu, Alfredo, que
no era posible augiirar cl bueno 6 el mal tiempo? ;^Lo auguranlos labradores
del campo y no lo habia de augurar la ciencia ? Hasta muchos de esos pro-
nôsticos vulgares que tan à menudo provocan tus sonrisas, tienen su razôn
de ser y estân fundados en el estudio de la Naturaleza.
No son solamenle la nubes las que anuncian el tiempo. Horas antes de
Uoverabate" la golondrina el vuelo en busca de los insectos ([ue la alimentan
y dejaron por lo frias, las allas regiones del aire; relajado su sistema ner-
vioso, abandona la oveja los verdes prados, y se eoha indolentemente al
abrigo de los selos ; las flores despiden mâs aroma, porque detiene su perfume
el agua absorvida por la almôst'era ; el trebol y la pimpinela. cierran ô tien-
den à cerrar sus hojas. Efecto de esta misma humedad, las puertas se entu-
mecen, las lAmparas chisporrotean, el humo del liogar se esparce por la
eslancia. ;, Se ajiroxima, no solo lluvia, sino lambién la tormenla ?
Abandonan los peces la superficie del Ucéano, y la gaviota, que siistentaban,
cruza presiirosa la ribera â caza de las pequenas larvas ; el ânade marino
nada en la ciimbre de las olas agitadas y recoje los insectos que envolvia la
espuma .
— Pero <.qué es al fin la lluvia? — prcgunta el Inien Alfredo. — <,Cômo
esta â veces el cielo cubierto y no da una gota de agua ? ;.Como otras se oscu-
rece de improviso y cae el agua â torrentes? Evapora el calor la humedad ;
li(iuida los vapores el frio. La lluvia no es mâs que vapor liquido, cuyos glo-
bules se convierten eu golas. /.Ha de bastar empcro una simple baja de tem-
peralura ? El borizonte puede estar oscuro, ej aire estar seco, y el vapor ser
absorvido por la almôsfera. Que no esté la atmôsfera saturada de vapores, es
dificil que llueva solo por que se enfrien las nubes. El aire de la noche es
siempre menos templado que el del dia. Nubes, foi'madas boy al calor de la
larde, no es sino muy comùn que se desvanezcan â la luz del sol sin haber
humedecido la tierra. /.Vas ya concibiendo la naturaleza de la lluvia ?
Prodi'icela no pocas veces la electricidad del aire, causa principal de los
grandes aguaceros del verano ; prodûcenla, sobre todo, los vientos, queya hin-
chan repcnlinanu'ute las nubes, dândoles los vapores que han recogido
al atraversar los mares, ya las disipan y absorven por venir sedientos
de kigares arenosos, abrasados por un sol sin nieblas. /.Que no os podria
decir ahora tanto de la electricidad como de la inttuencia de los vientos?
Pero os va ganando el frio, y se dilatan las sombras de los ârboles sobre la
vertiente del cerro. Bajeuios al valle anles no despliegue la noch(^ su manlo
de tinieblas.
(Continuard.) Francisco Pi y Maugall.
11. BaJLi.
Gantar.
Los (jue, desde el muudo, al cielo
Solo sus ojos levantcn,
Verân los astros niuy chicos ',
Verân los hombres muy grandes.
1. Pequèùos.
Pero los (|ue, con los ojos,
Levantan cl pensamiento,
Yerân muy grandes los astros,
V los hombres muy pequenos.
nicardo J. Catarineu.
[407J PARTE ESPANOLA 7i
Lo Mismo da
Dolora.
Si son, del tiempo al través,
Los siglos brèves instantes,
Ante la eternidad es
IgLial morir lustros ' antes
Que morir kistrosdespués.
.1. F. Sanmartin.
1. Espacio de cinco afios.
La muerte de un héroe*
A la amabilidad del autor, el senor Friederich Werner van Oestéren, debemos la
autorizacioii de traducir y reproducir el texto de esta novela corta. Forma parte de
un tomo que acaba de publicar la Casa Egon Fleischel de Berlin, con el titulo « Der
Weg ins Nichts. » Este libro coloca al senor van Oestéren entre los cuentistas màs
distinguidos de su pais. Léase en el Suplemento el articulo sobre esta obra.
I.
Al mismo tiempo que Miguel Lobicivi, veintisiete j(')venes, como él
reservistas, abandonaron su pueblo natal y se dirigieron a Czensto-
chau. Alli les habi'an convocado para alistarles y enviarles lejos, muy
lejos, a paises desconocidos, a Oriente, donde tenian que combatir y ven-
cer a los enemigos delà patria. jVirgen Santîsima, cuanta gente se habîa
reunido en la estaciôn! Todo el pueblo despedia â los que se mar-
chaban, pues aquellos soldados teni'an que volver siendo héroes, ô no
tenian que volver.
jJesus divino! jGuântas lâgrimas derramadas, euântas plegarias, cuân-
tas sûplicas dirigidas al cielo y balbucidas por los temblorosos labios de
las mujeres !...
Y, particularmente, â los que rodeaban à Miguel Lobicki, aquel buen
mozo hermoso como una estatua, la despedida parecia tristi'sima. La
hermosa Mania, hija del mâs rico labrador de la comarca, se abrazaba
llorosa <i su amado prometido sin quererse desprender de él, y el viejo Jan
Leschko, su padre, estaba alli' también. Tanto queria â su ùnicabija que
habiadeheredar sus bienes, que habia aceptado su matrimonio con el
joven buériano, pobre como el que mâs, pues Miguel no poseia un
kopeck y si podi'a vivir se debia a la generosidad de su hermana.
Y esa bermana, la delgada Katia Garowicz, â quien sus padres
habîan dejado en la miseria con su hermano, también estaba alli.
Habi'a salido del paso atrapando al majadero Kasper, présente alli, y
quien, en cumplimiento de las ordenes de su mujer. babi'a dado â su
cunado Miguel una abundante provision de relucientes rublos.
Por lo demâs, cuantos veian marcbarse â uno de los suyos habian
descabalado para él el dinero tan dura y penosamente economizado, y se
habîa ahorrado poco dado lo difi'ciles que estaban los tiempos.
Y si las lâgrimas se derramaban con abundancia sobretodo en el dolo-
roso momento de la separacion , algunos , en aquel momento , las
vertian también pensando en las hermosas monedas de plata que se
ban para no volver.
Con todo, los que allf se quedaban, todos sin excepciôn, se mostraban
orgullosos, muy orgullosos al ver que uno de su sangre y de su nombre
* Véanse las otras cuatro partes.
72 PARTE ESPANOLA [408]
se iba â salvar li la patria, y, si Dios lo tenîa dispuesto asi, volveria pronto
hecho un liéroe, un triunfador.
Y ese orgullo, y esa esperanza ikiminaba todas las frentes y todas las
mejillas, y llameaba en todos los ojos. . . Y las miradas de Mania, la her-
mosa joven en cuyo corazôn desbordaba la tristeza y la inquietud, resplan-
decîan también à través del espeso vélo de lâgrimas que constantemente
brotaban de sus ojos.
— Miguel, amado mi'o, mi tesoro, — decia entre soUozos ; — no me
olvides, no dejcs de serme fiel. . .Mira, dicen que las japonesas son
hermosas, muy hermosas, y yo lo se, estoy segura de ello. Y cuando seas
un gran senor, un héroe famoso, Miguel mîo, no me olvides, vuelve â mi.
Yo te lo juro por la Santi'sima Virgen de Gzenstochau, nuestra amantisima
madré, te esperaré y tanto de noche couio de dîa solo pensaré en ti. Y
por ti rezaré constantemente, Miguel mi'o.
— Miguel, — dijo â su vez Katia con voz aguda, — no olvides, ôyeme
l)ien, no olvides de ofrecer un cirio bien grande â nuestra buena madré
de Gzenstochau. Te he dado dineropara que asî lo hagas, y ante todo, dile
que Katia Garowicz es una mujer muy honrada, una buena cristiana, y
que desea y pide su bendiciôn.
(^Condnuarâ.)
Friederich Werner Van Oestéren.
Traducciôn del alemfin.
Frases hechas.
(Tonterias usuales.)
Cuando algûn amigo se ausenta. nos ofrecemos â bajar hasta la esla-
ci'on para despedirle.
— No se moleste usted, dice él.
— No es molestia, replicamos nosotros, \si lo hacemos con muchisimo
guslo !
Que es como decirle :
— Tenemos un verdadero placer en que se vaya usted y nos libre de
su presencia.
Al abandonar una casa donde hemos estado de visita, el dueno quiere
acompanarnos hastajajpuerta, y muy cortesmente nos oponemos ;i que
saïga al recibimiento, diciéndole :
— No saïga usted,' no, que eslo esta niurj frio.
Gonlocual indicamos' que su casa se halla perfectamente acondicio-
nada para cojer una pulmonia.
Les Cinq Langues
N" 10.
20 Février 1908.
Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
Cosas de Àfrica.
Argel en el ano {1639.
Entre los cautivos[(|ue llieron rediniidosen 2o de Marzode 1639 por los
IVailes del conventode la Sanlisima Trinidad, de Madrid, vino uno, natii-
ralde esta Corte, qiie"dej(') consignados curiosisimos detalles referentes {\
Una calle *cle Argel.
la ciudad de Argel, siii que al linal de su escrito cousignara su nombre,
reveiândose ûnicamente en su trabajo que se trataba de una persona
culla y observadora, versada en varias ciencias y perita ' en el arte de
escribir.
Comienza la relacion â que me retiero por describir menudamente - la
ciudad de Argel, tal y como era en la primera mitad del siglo XVII,
diciendo que su puerto era capaz para darasilo â treinta saetias, ô embar-
caciones pequenas, veinte galeras y treinta navios no muy grandes, sin
que cupieran mâs embarcaciones, pues de entrar otras, dice el anonimo
1. Experta, iliestra. —
[571
Detalhidamente.
KSPAG. 1(1
PARTE ESPAi^uLA [450]
cautivo, tcniàn ({ue (luedarse l'uera del puerto expuestas a las contingen-
cias de los vientos y de las oias.
Todos los edificios que formaban la poblaciôii estaban contriiidos con
ladrillo y bianqueados cou cal, excepcicni hecha de las casas situadas en
el |)iierto, que se alzaban sobre énormes penas y formaban parte de la
mural la, que se extendia a todo el largo de la poblaciôn.
Eran las calles angostas por extremo, hal)iendo solameiite tres() cuatro
Galles que teni'an escasamente quince pies de anchura, y servian para que
en ellas se celebrasen almonedas •' de muebles y toda clase de enseres ^.
Las habitaciones tampoco eran nada bolgadas, sirviendo apenas para
albergar dos <> très personas. y de este defecto adolecian también los
cuarteles ; si bien, como compensacl('»n a la estrechez de sus cuadras,
teni'an anchurosos patios.
Ilabi'a en Argel aguas en abundancia, leniendo cada casa un aljibe
donde se recogian las de la lluvia, y en la mayori'a de las calles se vei'an
l'uentesque servi'an para los usos del vecindario todo.
Ginco puertas daban acceso â la ciudad, llamadas de la iMar, Babalnete,
Pescaderia, Babagùn y la Nueva.
Servia la primera de comunicaciôn con el puerto, y era, por consigui-
ente, la mâs importante para el trâlico de la poblacMui ; la segundadaba
paso â la parte pintoresca de los arrabales, y en ella se celebraban los
juegos de todas clases, las luclias y otros entretenimientos (jue servian de
distraccion â los habitantes de la ciudad ; la tercera y cuarta puerta eran
las que se utilizaban para el comercio por tierra, viéndose frecuentadas
por camellos y toda clase de animales, en los que se hacia el transporte
de mercancîas, siendo la puerta deBahag<')n la destinada â celebrar ferlas
semanales.
Ascendi'a la poblaci()n de Argel por el aùo !(>{'.) pr(')ximamente â 60 000
habitantes, distribuidos en unas 16 000 casas, dividiéndose aquellos en
'i 11 000 moros, lî:2 OOOjudios, 2 000 esclavos cristiauos y 2 000 entre auto-
ridadcs y soldados.
Teni'a â su cargo el niaiido do la ciudad un virrey, (jue nouiI)raba el
Grau Senor, y el ([ue teni'a que satisfacer los sueldos â todos los funcio-
narios y soldados, percibiendo para ello la octava de los esclavos y la
misma participaciôn en todas las presas de mar.
Frecueutemente sucedia que el virrey no lograba " cobrar lo suliciente
para satisfacer estos sueldos, y entonces alborotâbase la soldadesca, y con-
tando con la pasibilidad'' de los jueces, ()euetraban en el palaciodel virrey
y le arrastraban por las calles de la publaci'on, dândole cruenta muerte.
Guando taies atentados se cometian, en vano trataba de prevenirlos el
virrey pidiendo auxilios al tesoro real para salir de sus compromisos,
pues à pesar de que en la Alcazaba se custodiaban mas de doscientos
millones del Sultan, el diiiero <[ue allf entraba no vol via à salir jamas.
La vida en Argel era por demâs barala, causa de la gran competencia
comercial que daba à aquel mercado la concurrencia de producciones de
todos los pai'ses del mundo.
En las transacciones comerciales, empleâbase la moneda espaiiola con
preferencia a toda otra, por la estima en que la teni'an los moros, que
solian falsificarla, lo eu al motivaba frecuentes y grandes alarmas en el
3. Subastas. — 4. Utensilios. — '6. Conseguia. — (>. liidiferencia.
[451] PARTE. ESPANOLA 75
comercio, y rigiirosisimo reconocimiento de la moneda, que hasta se
juraba antes de recibirla.
Abundaban maestros y oficiales do toda clase de olicios, sieiido esta
competcncia causa de que todos los prodiictos de la industria alcanzaran
prccios econôniicos, que contribuian al abaratauiiento de la vida.
Vivian miserablemente la mayorîa de los moros, comiendo un amasijo
de arroz y trigo cocido con carne salada, y pan que diariamente amasaba
cada iino en su propio domicilio, llevândolo a cocer â uno delos muchos
hornos que habia en la poblacion .
llorrorosos castigos impoiii'an â los crislianos por las mas levés faltas ;
ya rodeâbanles el cuerpo con estopas y poniéndoles lefia alrededor los
iban tostando poco à poco ; otros eran arrojados desde las al menas ;
â algunos los condenaban â ser paseados por la ciudad con las espaldas
desnudas y en agujeros que previamente les abri'an, introduci'an vêlas
encendidas.
Después de martirizados horriblemente los abandonaban, babiendo
algunos tan desgraciados que sobrevivian à tantos sui'rimientos durante
seis 6 sietedias, sucumbiendo ^ al cabo en medio de tremendos dolores.
Habia en la poblacion cuatro templos dedicados al culto caUjliço,
siendo doce los sacerdotesque celebraban misa diariamente.
La iglesia mayor estaba bajola advocaciim de la Santisima Trinidad, y
corria â cargo de un provisor, nombrado por el Papa, celebrândose en
aquel templo frecuentes iunciones religiosas en las que se predicaba la
Fé Cat(')lica.
Estas iglesias se sosteni'an con el producto de las limosnas recaudadas
entre los cristianos résidentes en Argel, percibiendo cada uno de los doce
sacerdotes cuatro reaies diarios como emolumento '* por su trabajo.
Tan exigua cantidad no compensaba los peligros que corrian aquellos
pobres ministrosde la religion, pues su paso por las calles de la pobla-
cion era motivo de constante mofa ' para los muchachos, que no pocas
veces seguian a los sacerdotes arrojândoles piedras é inmundicias '", sin
que los ofendidos pudieran defenderse, pues si tal hacian eran castigados
por las autoridades musulmanas.
José de La Corte.
7. Muriendo. — n. Honorarios. — 9. Escarnio, burla. — 10. Basura.
Tardes de Invierno.
(('ontinuaciÔH.)
Los colores.
El Padre. — Clara y bella es la tarde. Banan torrentes de luz la atmdsfera.
Ligeras y tempiadas brisas agitan la hicrba de los prados. Continuemos
paseando por eslos jardines.
l. Que me decias hace poco Adela ?
Adela. — Esta manana salimos AltVedo y yo, y nos seutamos al pie del
arroyo'. Estaban las mârgenes salpicadas de rocio ; y (ijàndonos en una
1 . Riachuelo .
76 PARTE ESPANOLA (4521
gola suspendida de iina planta, va- la vciamos de un color, va de otro : va
de purpura como la violcta, va amarilla como la flor de la argoma, va
reiumbrando^ como fuego. Nos levantamos y arrancamos cuid idosamenle
la planl.i : el rocio era blanco, simplemenle blanco.
El Padre. — ;. Y à que habeis atribuido este fcnômeno ?
Alfredo. — En vano hcmos pretendido adivinar la causa.
Eh Padre. — ;. Daba el sol en la golade rocio ciuindo la visteis de varios
colores ?
Alkredo. — Si.
El tadre. — ;. Estabais en la sombra cuando la visteis blanca ?
AoELA. — Si, si.
El padrk. — i. Y no habéis sospecbado si podrian los rayos del sol ser la
causa de los colores de la gota ?^v Porquc (Â parece que es vcrde la liierba ?
;. porqiie el color verde esta en la bierba? No, sino porque esta constituida
de manera, que de los colores que recibe del sol puede tan solo rcflejar el
verde.
Eslân en la luz los colores y no en los objetos.
Adela. — ;. En la luz?
Kl i'aiire. — Cada rayo de sol cslâ conipucslo de siele colores ^•. Absorbe
un cuerpo estos colores y no relleja ninguno ? Es negro. ^•, No absorbe
ninguno y los l'efleja todos ? Es l)lanco. ;. Absorbe sels y relleja solo uno ?
Es del color ({ue l'efle.ja : rojo, anaranjado, amarillo, verde, azul, del color
del anil'' ô del de la violeta.
Hay cuerpos que tienen la propiedad de descomponer la luz; y estos son
los que como el rocio se pres(>ntan ora^^ de un color, ora de otro, segun la
siluacinn del que los observa, i, A que os parece que son dcbidos los colores
del arco iris sino â la descomposiciôn de los ra_\os del sol en gotas de agua
suspendidas de las nubes ? ;, A que los colores del nâcar sino à la descompo-
siciôn de la luz por los bordes de las imperceptibles laminas sobrepueslas
unas â otras que conslituyen su superficie ? <. A que los cambiantes del cris-
tal y del brillante tallados, sino â la descomposiciôn de la luz por las arislas
de las facetas ?
No es aun posible determinar con précision de que dépende que los diver-
sos seres de la naturaleza reflojen distintos colores ; pero liay hcclios que
algo revelan y no os los puedo pasar en silencio. (^uando niùos, liabeis hecho
todos ampollas de jabôn, y os habeis divertido en \ crins subir por
cl aire. Euego que se desprendian de vuestro tubo iban canibiando de color
^•,no es cierto ? Eiicarnadas''' al principio, terminan casi sicmpre por ser azu
les ô de color de violeta. ;. Ignorais el motivo ? Las paredes de la anipolla se
van adelgazando porquc el agua de que estàn coiiipucslas se va precipilando
al fondo. Si cuanto mas delgadas retlejan colores màs delicados y (Mianto
ni.'is gruesas colores nias inertes,^ no cabe por lo menos sospecbar que el
espesor de los cuerpos influye en el color que retlejan ?
El sonido se crée que dépende de la vibraciôn de los cuerpos elâslicos
transmitida poi' las subsiguientes ondulaciones del aire ; la luz de las vibra-
ciones del éter, tluido impondérable dit'undido por la atmôsfera. Cuanto màs
(lelgados son los cuerpos sonoros, dan también notas tan lo m as agudas ;
cuanto mâs gruesos, tanto màs prot'undas. Las delgadas laminas de cobre de
nuestros grabadores producen sonidos muv diferentes de los de las recias''
campanas de nuestras catedrales; cl bordôn de la guitarra, sonidos muy
diversos de los de la prima. Una analogia tal ;. no nos ha de dar también
uiotivo para que nos afirmemos en la anterior sospecha ? Esta analogia es
de tanta mayor fuei-za, cuanto que la bay aun entre los colores y los sonidos
de cuerpos igiuUmente densos. Para (|ne cl éter produzca el color de la
2. Unas veces. — .'{. Dcspidiendo muclia luz. — i. Indigo. — 5. Tan pronlo. — 6.
Coloradas, rojàs. — 7. Grandes, fuertes, gruesas.
[4531 PARTE KSPAI^OLA 77
viole.la so ha calciilado que ha de vibrar 699 millones de millones de veces
por segundo : para que produzca el de la rosa, solo 477 niillones de millones.
Para obloner el sonido mâsagiido posihic en un piano de siete octavas se ha
calculado que ha do vibrar 4 224 veces por segiindo ; para cl mâs gravo.
solamente 15.
El diverso estado de las moléciilas de un cuerpo opino'^ que ha de infliiir
también muchisitno en que refleje un color l'iotro. En esas salinas de Car-
dona de que os hablé otra tarde, hay pedruscos'' de sal de distintos colores.
Los rompeis y veis siempreen las partes el color de! todo. Los machacais "',
los reducis â polvo, y veis ya el polvo completamente blanco. Este hecho no
ha llamado, que yo sepa, la atencidn de los naturalistas ; pero es muy digno
de examen. Dicese que la nieve, el aziicar la misma sal son blancas por que
se componen de un niiniero intinito depeqiienos prismas. ^. De que se com-
pondr.in aqucllas énormes piedras, ya aziiles, ya encarnadas, yaverdes, ya de
iina transparencia por lo rncnos igual â la de los cristales luâs puros? Pero
estoy deteniéndome en consideraciones ([ne no os interesan.
Alfrkdo. — ^ Que no nos interesan ? Segiiid, seguid, ardo en deseos de
sabcr que condiciones han de réunir los cMer|>os piira([ue descompongan la
luz de los rayos sol ares.
El Padre. — La descomponen principalmente los cucrpos trasparentes pris-
mâticos, sobre todo el agiia. Tomas manana un prisma de cristal, y haces
que venga â dar en él un rayo de sol que baje por un agujero del postigo "
de tu ventana. Verâs al punto reflejados los siete colores, ya en el snelo, ya
en el techo, y ya en las paredes de tu aposenlo. (. No los has visto acaso
nunca sobre el mantel descompuestos por el agua de las botellas ? El agua
desconipone la luz del sol en las cascadas, en los blancos y espumosos
penachos que forma al salir de las fuentes de nuestros jardines, en las gotas
con que salpica las plantas, los metales, los ciierpos que tardanen absorberla
y evaporarla.
(. Cômo estas silencioso, Eduardo ! ;. Nada te ocurre â ti hablàndose de
cosas tan bellas ?
Eduardo. — Temo despegar los labios dcsdc que me dijiste que sobre la
razôn prédomina en mi la fantasia ; pero ya que me estimulas â que diga
algo, permitemc que te pregnnte : ;, y es solo la luz del sol la que da color â
los cuerpos ? i. Solo la luz del sol la que se desconipone en el prisma ? A la
luz de mi lâmpara distingo en los ohjetos los mismos colores que de dia; de
nochche visto la araha de un teatro chispeando y despidiendo de sus ricas
mazorcas '- de cristal innumerables reflejos de todoslos colores. Loque habcis
diclio de la hiz del sol ^, es 6 no aplicable â las luces artificiales ?
El Padiu:. — Bien, Eduardo. lias sabido gencralizar lo que yo â proposito
habia individualizado. Las generalizaciones, cuando como la tuya vienen
apoyadas en hechos, dan buena idea de la razôn del que las formula. Toda luz,
es cierto, liene, generalmcnle hablando, las niismas propiedades ; pero hay
entre la natural y la artilicial diforencias que, aunque pequeâas, no son para
que lasolvidemos. La luz del sol es blanca, la de tu lâmpara amarilla. La de
tu lâmpara altéra, por ser tal, la a[)ariencia de ciertos colores. (■.A'ohas obser-
vado nunca que lo ([ue es azul de dia lo creemos verde de noche ? El color
amarillo de la Uama de las bujias y la làmparas se combina con cl azul, y da
por resullado el verde, que no es sino la (-ombinaciôn de los dos colores.
Adela. — (, Darân también los colores higar â que padezcamos muchas
ilusiones ? ^-.no es cierto ?
El l'ADKE. — ; Tanto, Adela !... Fijas por algiin tiempo los ojos en el sol,
el fuego, los campos, el azul del cielo ; y al apartarlos no ves ya ningiin
objeto con el color que en realidad tiene. Tal color, que aislado parecerâ
s. Pienso. — 9. Piedras grandes. — 10. Golpear hasta pulverizar. — 11. Puertecilla
que se colûoa eu las ventanas y puertas ventanas. — 12. Colgantes.
78 FARTE KSPAWOLA [454]
vivo, entre olros se presenlarâ déliil ; (;il, que al través do olros le veràs
claro y brillante ^ Crées lu que tu sangre tiene ese bello color cncarnado
con que la ves cuando miras al trasluz tus dedos ? No ; la ves asi porque la
niateria que la colora flota en una especie de humor leclioso. Al través de lui
liqiiido blanco como la lèche, todo ctierpo de un color rojo oscuro adquiero
trasparencia. ;, Ignoras por fin que cambia el color de tu misma cara segûn
el del traje que vistes y el de los objetos que te rodoiin ? Obran reciproca-
mentc unes colores en otros, y nacen de esia nnitua y continua influencia
grados de color intinitos, desesperacion de los pinlores que se empenan en
reproducirlos.
l El color esta en la luz, y es la luz tan enganosa !... Pi'csenta in\ertida
nuestra imàgen en el agua, levantado el cauce de los arroyos y los rios, que-
brados en el niar los remos de nueslras ligeras barquillas. Nos hacc ver el
sol, la liina, los buques de alto bordo antes que estén en nuestro horizonte.
Sufre refracciôn, es decir, desviaciôn, al pasar del agua al aire, del aii-e al
agua, de un aire mas denso à otro mas raro, de un aire mas i^aro â otro mas
dcnso, y nosdaria ideas equivocadas '^ de multitud de fenômenos, si nuestra
razén no la hubiese estudiado detenidamente, y ensenâdonos à rectiticar los
errores à que con tanta frecuencia nos conduce.
Eduardo. — ;.Y pregunté si nos engaiîau los sentidos ? — Padre, el sol
traspone ya las vecinas cambres. Mucho deseo conocer la luz, y saber la
causa de tan falaces " apariencias ; mas teino el aire de la noche por la
pobre Adela. Cortemos va la plàtica, v crucemos alogre v lentamente el
valle.
(Continuarâ.) Francisco Pi v Margall.
13. Erroneas. — 14. HngMnosas.
La Casilla del Perro.
vi
Envuello Don Ju;ui en lujoso balin y sentado junto à la chimenea, cuva
lumbre mortecina avivaba con énormes troncos de lena, interrogô en esta
forma al granujilla, que lemblaba de miedo :
— Vamos k ver : ^-.cuantos aùos tienes?
— Nueve 6 diez, no estoy bien seguro.
— jïemprano *" empiezas !
— Sefior, yo le juro à usied
— ("alla. ^.Cônjo le Hamas?
— Perico ; pero todos me Uaniiin el Mirlo, por que silbo muy bien.
— <.Tienes familia ?
— No, senor ; mi madré se murio liace dos anos ; me recogio una vecina,
que se muriô lambién, y me encuenlro en la callc.
— (. Y de que vives?
— ;Toma ! De lo que sale.
— ^'.Y que es lo que sale ?
— Pues vendo una contrascàa de lealro si me la dan, ô me cniargan
un recado que me vale treinla cénlimos 6 (-uarenla, y entonces compro medio
veinticinco de La CorrespondencAa, ode otro papel ", y asi me las compongo.
— ^'.Y cuando no tienes para comprarlo?
— Voy à la sobra del mnclio â los cuarteles.
10. Pronto. - H. Periôdico.
[455J PARTE BSPAWOLA 79
— ^.Y donde \i\es ?
— En todas partes.
— /,Y dondo duenues?
El muchaclio no rcspondiô.
— Vamos, di, ^donde diiernies ?
— Si pronu'.te nsted no pei^'iirnic, le dii'é la verdnd.
— Puedes cstar traniinilo ; no te liaré dano y quedarâs libce, y hasta te
daré iina peseta si nie dices la \erdad, toda la verdad.
— Pues dormir duernio, hace ya très meses, abajo, en la casilla
del perro.... , de Sultnn.
— ^Es posible ?
— Si, senor.
— ^Y no te muerde, ni te ladra?
— [Quiâl Si somos muy amigos Lh'imele iisted, si quiere, y vera
cuantas caricias me hace.
Don Jnan no salia de su asombro y miraba alternativainente al portero,
que, rigido y en pie, presenciaba la escena tan sorprendido como su senor, y
al muohacho que sobando '- la miigrienta boina y con la cabeza inelinada
sobre el pecho, eonio quien se considéra ciilpuble, dirigia, siu embargo, â su
scvero interrogador, algunas miradas ràpidas y centelleantes.
— Oye, muchacho, — dijo por fin Don .Tuan, — \as à explicarme como
puedes entrar todas la noclies en cl jardin y como te bas bcclio amigo de
Sultan.
— Pues verâ ustcd. El verano pasado, cuando ustcd estaba fuera de
Madrid y se ccrrô esta casa, y no quedô mâs que este senor con su ninjer y
con sus hijos, no abrian la verja, y el perro, en vez de estar snjeto '"' de dia,
como ahora, andaba suelto por el jardin.
— Eso es verdad — dijo Francisco.
— jYa lo creo ! — exclamé el muchacho. — como todo lo que yo digo.
Don .Jnan se sonrio al oir aquel alarde jactancioso de sinceridad.
— Eiitonces — continué el Mi.rlo, — un dia que vine â corner pan y qneso
junto â la verja, empezô â ladrarme el perrazo, y para que callase le tiré
unas cortezas, y se las comiô, y le supieron tan bien, que parecia pedirme
mâs cuando ya no me quedaba ninguna. Al otro dia volvi â corner al mismo
sitio, por que habia una sombra muy tVesca, y se dormia alli la siesla Lan
ricamentc'*, y ya el perro no me ladrô tanto, y yo le tiré también de lo «[ne
comia. Y asi, trayéndole siempre alguna cosiila y rascândole cuando se; acer-
caba â la verja, llegamos à lomarnos carifio.
Don.)uan escuchaba al muchacho con la boca abierta.
— Signe, sigue, — le dijo.
— No créa usted, que si SuUân me quiere es por que sabe que yo le qiiiero
también, y cuando ciialquier senor me da en el café terrones de azucar, le
traigo alguno , y el animal, [ claro !, me lo agradece. Verdad es queyo
también tengoquc agradecerle mucho, por que cuando no he comido en todo
el dia, el pobre Sultan ni grune siquiera al ver que yo me aprovecho
de lo suyo.
— i Como! — exclamé Don .Uian. — /.Es posible que hayas comido...
eso ?
— Pues no que no. ; Y gracias ! Cuando ha\ gazuza ^'^
Don Juan sintiô una sensaciôn de repugnancia y pena, de asco y de Idstima,
al escuchar aqiiclla horrible confesiôn del muchacho.
[Continuarà.) Miguel Ramus Caiuuô.x.
12. Manoseando . — 13. Atado. — 14. Divinamente. — 15. Hambre (familiar).
80 PARTE ESPANOLA [456]
La muerte de un héroe ( ' )
f[
El orgiillode los que se qiiedaban no parecia aniiiiar a los jôvenes.
Ùiiicainente los que habi'au tomado considérable canlitad de copas
liacian chistes, cantaban y haci'an gala de prolijidad jactanciosa y ruidosa
gesticulando muclio. J.os denuis parecian tristes, y con la garganta apre-
tada y la mirada ansiosa, hablaban poco.
Miguel liguraba entre los liltimos, y el dolor que opriini'a su coraz('»n
era tau agudo, que gustoso hubiese dado, por quedarse, la mitad de su
sangre. « i Mania, corazini mi'o, mi pobre Mania, mi amal)le prometida 1
Mania, adorada mia, mi paloma, » balbucian sus pâlidos labios mientras
acariciaba los rubios cabellos de la joven.
« Vamos, vamos, hijos mios, — dijo el viejo Leschko, — [. â que viene
tanta desesperaci('tn '? Psia kreto, yo también he sido joveu y he sido sol-
dado, y cuando fui a pelear conlra los turcos, y, palabra de honor, los
hice a pedazos muy pequenos, salve el pellejo. Mâs lacil lésera a Miguel
acabar con esos enanos amarillos que â mi me lo fué acabar con los pati-
zambos turcos. Mania, hija mia, denlro de un ano volveremos â tenerle a
nuestro lado ».
« Pero, i. y si muero ô vuelvo lisiado f ^. Que sucederâ entonces ? »
pregunt(') Miguel con sombri'a entouaciûn.
Mania no pu do coutenerse, y abrazândose à su prometido empezû a
gritar : « Miguel... Miguel ».
Pero Katia declarô con liereza : « i. Y que importa que vuelvas lisiado
si vuelves hecho un héroe, Miguel '/ Todos teudriamos motivo para enor-
guUecernos, y yo la primera, y tan ciertocomo soy i)uena crisliana y que
necesito la ayuda de los santos del cielo, te cuidaria hasta tu ûllima
hora. Que aquellos que piensen de olro modo — »
Uiendo, el viejo Leschko la iiiterrumpiû para decir : « j Trueno del
cielo ! ^, Acaso te liguras, tu, Katia Garowicz, (|ue ères mejorcristiana que
yo ? Vuelva sano 6 enlermo, Miguel vivirâ en mi casa. i. Yerdad, nena,
(jue vivirâ en casa ?
Mania sollozaba demasiado para contestar y se content() haciendo cou
la cabeza un movimiento alirmativo.
Y seoyô el ûltimo silbido : ; todo el mundo al tren !
Y algunos instantes después, los que allf estaban, con los ojos enroje-
cidos por el Uanto, vieron desaparecer à Miguel y â sus com()aùeros.
(Conlinuara.) Friederich Werner van Oestkren
Traducciôn del alemân.
(*) Véanse las olras oiiatro partes..
Frases hechas (Tonterlas usuales.
— Dicen que â Gonzalez le han nombrado Gobernador.
— i Gobernador ? Que disparate ! Si le nombraran siquiera secretario
ya se daria con un canto en los pechos.
Y supongo que el pobre hoinbre nohari'a semejante barharidad.
Les Cinq Langues
K- 11.
5 Mars 1908.
8° Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
El P. Luis Coloma
El autor de Pequeneces. , . acal)a de ser elei;ido miembro de numéro de
la Real Academia Espanola,y la noticia de la elecchui ha sido acogida con
vei'dadero jûbilo por todos los amantes desapasioiiados y desinteresados
de las bellas letras.
La personalidad literaria del P, Luis Coloma, con ser una de las mejor
defmidas del sigio XIX, es también
una de las mâs sûlidas y de las que mas
relieve tienen.
Perl'ecto conocedor de las miserias y
flaquezas humanas, el P. Coloma ha
consagrado siempre su pluma a cantar
las alabanzas de los buenos, y a ratos
se ha complacido presentaudolas luchas
que debe alVontar y las dificultades que
liene que vencer todo lo que en la
vida es grande y bueno.
En sus comienzos literarios, el P.
Luis Coloma cultiv(') con preferencia la
novela corta y el cuento, y entre sus
producciones de este género abundan
las obras maestras.
l Quién no se ha deleitado leyendo y
releyendo Pllalillo, Por un piojo, La
maledicenda, y ese monumento lite-
rario que el ilustre miembro de la
Compani'a de Jésus bautiz<) con el
nombre de Juan Miseria ?
Preciso es remontarse ' al Siglo de Oro de nuestra literatura para encon-
trar una obra literaria que pueda ser comparada a la novelita que he
citado en ûltimo lugar.
Después, el P. Coloma abordé la novela grande, y con Pequeheces. . .
produjo una verdadera revoluciôn en Espana entera.
Con todo lo que sobre este libro se ha escrito se podria componer una
no pequena biblioteca.
Con esta novela, en la que retrata y fustiga - violentamente, — tal vez
no tanto como en realidad merece, — las miserias de una sociedad co-
1. Subir hasta. — 2. Azota.
[63]
ESPAG. 11
82, PARTE ESPANOLA [498]
rrompida y aristocrâtica, el recién^ elegido académico nos trazô un cuadro
amenîsimo y dolorido al misino tiempo de lo que era la sociedad espanola
durante el pen'odo que precedi() y sii-uic) â la Restauracn'in.
Todos los personajes de Peqiieheces . . . son de carne y hueso y tienen
sangre y vida. Y tan reaies son y tan perfectarnente pintades estân, que
muchos fueron los (jue, quitândoles los nombres cou que les hal)ia l)aLi-
tizado el au ter del libro, les pusieron otros de todos conocidos.
Griticas acerbas, ataques rudos, censuras apasionadas y gritos de indi-
gnacion, — ;î los que respondian otros de entusiasino, — provoC() este
libro del insigne sacerdote jesui'ta ; pero de todo ello, como sncede cons-
tantemente con las obras buenas que son a un misnio tiempo l)uenas
obras, solo ba quedado la obra misma.
OI)ra que leerân siempre cuantos quieran deleitarse saboreando las
galas del Inien decir : obra (|ue ocuparâ bigar prelerente en la bistoria
de la literalura espanola del sigio XIX. Y conste que al liablar de la obra
del P. Luis Coloma, no me reliero solo a Pequener.es. . ., no ; me refiero
también a Juan Miseria, La maledicencia, Por un piojo y PilatiUo,
novelas cortas 6 cuentos largos que, unidos â las otras producciones de
su autor, liubiesen bastado, como por si solos se basta cada uno de ellos,
para llevar â quien los firma â ocupar el sillon que, unanimemente, aca-
ban de senalarle los iiiinortales.
Carlos de Batlle.
3. Recientemetite. (Usase siempre antepuesto à los participios pasivos.)
Tardes de Invierno.
(Continuaciun.)
A la orilla del mar.
Alkredo. — <•. Decis que nos engaùan â cada paso los sentidos ?
El Padre. — A cada paso, Alfredo. i Vos aquella ola ? ;. No te parcce qnc
avanza y viene â ostrellarse ' contrn las rocas de estaplaya?
Alfredo. — Cierto.
El Padre. — No avanza ni rétrocède ; no tienc màs mo\ imicnto que el de
;irriba abajo. ;. Te parccen estas olas continuaci(3n de la primerii que alcan-
zan â distingiiir tus ojos ? Una do tantas iliisiones.
Alfredo. — i. Que son cntonces las olas ?
El Padre. — Ondulaciones debidas à la presiôn désignai del viento sobre
las aguas, cuando no â las corrienles oceànicas. Déprimes tu propia carne
en un punto, y la ves creccr en otro. Déprime el vionto unas agnas, y éleva
las de al lado. Cada presiôn y cada elevaciôn correspondienle conslituycii
una ola.
Alfredo.— No me negaréis cpie las olas baten - aqui con inipctn las rocas.
V'ed como se rompen y sallan por el aire deshechas en espnma.
El Padre. — }. Alla â lo lejos no ves también como blanquean ? Donde
quiera que dan con un penasco, un banco de arena, una isleta, sncede otio
tante. No es la ola la que bâte la roca ; es la roca la (pu^ rompe la ola y la
1. Ghocar con violencia. — 2. Golpean, cliocan.
[4991 PARTE ESPANOLA 83
deshace. No en loda la ribera dol mar liay rocas. ^ Por qiK' donde no las hay
ves simploniente las agiias cxtcndiéndose como una sâbana sobre las arenas
delà playa? La sola interrupciôn do la curva que dcscribcn las olas consli-
tuye las rompientes.
Alfredo. — 6 ^^''- espuma ?
El Padre. — Espuma la arrojan à menudo las olas mucho antcs de llegar
à la Costa. Da el viento contra su cûspide, y dispersa particulas de agua en
todas direcciones. Y si las dispersa alli el viento, (icômo aqui no las rocas ?
Alfredo. — Comprendo, coniprendo ; pero he aqui que en tanto que habla-
mos no parece sino que el niar avanza. ;, Sera esta otra ilusién de mis sen-
tidos.
El Padre. — No, Alfredo ; estamos ahora à la hora del reflujo.
Alfredo. — ; A la hora del reflujo !
El Padre. — ^ No bas oido segiin esto hablar de las mareas ? La luna atrae
fuertemente las aguas del Occano y las levanta dos veces por dia. La subida 6
el crecimiento de las aguas conslituye el flujo ; su bajada el retlujo ; su subida
y su bajada, la marea.
Alfredo. — i, Y experimentan el llujoy el reflujo siemprc à las mismas
lioras ?
El Padre. — A las mismas precisamenlc no, porque el globo emplea solo
vcinticuatro horas en dar la vuelta sobre su eje, y la luna veinticuatro y cua-
rcnta y nueve minutes para volverse à encontrar sobre un mismo punto de
la tierra. Las mareas se verifican durante una lunaciôn cuarenta y nueve
minutos mâs tarde por dia.
Alfredo. — j Admirable fenômeno ! ^, Decis que es debido à la luna ?
El Padre. — La luna basta â producirlo ; pero nunca son mayores las
mareas que cuando atraen directamente la luna y el sol las aguas del Océano.
En los novilunios y los plenilunios, cuando el sol y la luna estàn en una
misma Imea, las mareas son muy altas ; en las cuadraturas, cuando el sol y
la luna estân en àngulo recto, las mareas son bajisimas. Obran los dos
astros en igual sentido durante los novilunios y los plenilunios ; durante las
cuadraturas, en el sentido opuesto.
Adela. — ^ Sabéis, padre, que os vais entrando sin sentirlo' en considera-
ciones bien dificiles ? Os babiais propuesto hablarnos de ilusiones y no de
realidades. En hora buena que hubieseis seguido diciéndonos algo de esas
picaras olas que habia creido siempre que venian de muy lejos; (, â que
mentar* ahora las cuadraturas y los novilunios ?
El Padre. — i Quieres entonces que siga destruyendo tus queridas ilusio-
nes? 1 Pobre nina ! Levanta los ojos y mira : i. que ves sobre tu cabcza ?
Adela. — <•. Que he de ver sino cl cielo ?
El Padre. — Rasga '^ también esa ilusion, por que ese cielo no esta sino en
tus ojos. El azul que ves es el color del aire, de este mismo aire que respiras.
Adela. — [, Cômo padre ?
El Padre. — Ven y sigueme. Recoge agua en el hueco de tu mano. i. De
que color te parece ?
Adela. — Blanca como la de la fuentc.
El Padre. — Mira, sin embargo, el mar ; ;. es blanca la superficie del Océ-
ano ?
Adela. — No, sino azul.
El Padre. — El agua en pe(iuenas rantidades es pues blanca, azul en gran-
des masas. Asi del aire. Son también incoloras sus capas, pero azul su con-
junto, el conjunto de la atmosfera. A cierta altura de la tierra^, crées que
varias ni aun ese color que tan hermosos suenos te ha inspirado ?
Adela. — ^. Que es lo que entonces se cnbre por la noche de estrellas
relucientcs?
3. Daros cuenta, sin notarlo. — 4. Citar, hablar. — 5. Rompe, destruye.
84
PARTE KSPAWOLA
[500J
El Padre. — i Pobre Adela ! Esas estrellas relncientes esiân â millaros'^ de
kilômetros de tu cielo imaginario. La altiira del aire atmosférico es de 120
kilômctros. Recorre la luz 300 000 por segundo, y ha tardado nada menos
que anos en bajar de la estrella mâs prôxima â la tierra. Calcula â que dis-
tancia de esa bôveda azuladano se ha de hallar la estrella. Esta el sol sobre
nosolros â mâs de 157 millones de kilômetros : baja de él la luz en ocho
miniiios y Irece segundos. Han de distar las estrellas millones de millones
de kilômetros lo mismo dcl sol ({ue de nuesti-o planeta. ;. Crées por otra parle
que ahora como de noche no pueblan el espacio ? No las ves ahora porque
su luz la éclipsa la del sol ; pero brillan y centellean como de noche ; aun
en lo mâs claro del dia podrias dislinguirlas desde lo profundo de un pozo.
Adela. — j Y yo que habia creido siempre cl cielo en lo alto !. . ..
El Padre. — i. Mas que es para ti lo alto ? Vives en un globo que gira sobre
si misuio sin ce.sar. Que estes en el hemisferio del Nortc, que on el del Sur,
no dejas nnnca de ver tu cielo. Como lo tienes sobre tu cabeza, ;. no lo bas
de tenerdebajo de tus plantas? Ese que Hamas cielo esta sobre ti, debajo de
ti, â tu dcrecha y â tu iz(iuierda.
Adela. — Sientohaberos traido denuevo â hablardenuestras ilusiones, por
que acabâis de siimergir en un marde dudas mi aima.
El Padrf. — ^, En un mar de dudas, Adela ? Puede muy bien ser una ilu-
siôn el cielo de tus senlidos y no serlo el de tu espiritu. Corregir un error
del cuerpo ;. puede ser nunca negar una creencia al aima ? No, como tu
creencia no descanse pura y sencillamente en cl testimoniode tus senlidos.
(. Budas h'i lambién, Alfredo?
Alfredo. — No, pero he oido explicar muy de otra manera el color dcl
cielo. Ese color que ves, me dijeron, son los rayos azulcs del sol reflejados
por la tierra.
El Padre. ^ — ^Y te parccc verdadera la tcoria? Mafiana se cubre el hori-
zonte, y no ves ya en la atmosfcra los rayos azules. Subes â iina cumbre que
domine las nubes, y vuelves â ver azul el cielo. Pero Adela es muy impre-
sionable. Mirala con la cabeza baja como esas rosas que marchita el bâlito"
de un huracân ardiente. Llevémosla â su Ituena madrc para que la anime
con el rocio vivificador de su palabra.
Francisco Pi y Margall.
(Conduira. )
6. Miles. — 7. Soplo.
Epigrama.
Cascando' un pifKMi Don Justo,
Avaro sobresaliente -,
Sintio rompérsele un dieiite.
l. Rompiendo. — 2. Muy grande,
excesivo.
V se llev() mucho susto.
Pero pronto se rehizo ^
Y exclanii'» muy placentero :
— Este no cucsta dinero ;
iMe temi (jue era el postizo!
A, RiBOT y FONTSERÉ.
3. Repuso.
[501
PARTE ESPA^OLA
85
El Miércoles de Geniza.
Venid al templo, hermanos ;
Nieblas que esparcc' el sol delainaùana
Son les goces mundanos.
i Ay del tiue en pos se afana
Fija la mente en su ilusiôn liviana !
Pedidlc à Dios un dia
Que alumbre - en paz vuestro mortal
Por nias segura via, fcamino :
Y con mejor destino,
(juieâlasalmas su esplcndordivino.
Llevad la Trente alzada,
Siervos de Dios: con sulaurelglorioso?
Iras esa vil morada,
En éxtasis dichoso,
Hallarâ vuestro alYin dulce reposo.
Brève senda es la vida
Que da â un pensil de regaladas flores ;
i Ay si el aima perdida
Solo ve en sus colores
De una ilusiôn los falsos resplandores!
Venid, venid, hermanos,
Polvosois: vuestro bien, vuestra aniai'-
fgura
; Oh : despertad mortales,
mirad con atencimi en vuestro dano,
Fray Luis de Lbôn.
Son como el polvo vanos;
Es polvo la hermosura,
Polvo lagloriay su inmortal ventura.
Un céfiro^ os le van ta,
Una brisa os esparce por el viento :
Venid, va el sol espanta'*^
Con su fulgor violento
Labrumaquecoronael firmamento.
Blanda la excelsa lunil»re
Delcielodorala extension tranquila ;
Ya enrojece la cumbre,
Ya el pendn vacila,
Ya la tiniebla en Occidente apila.
La bruma silenciosa
Flota un momento, en el azul colgada,
Y acatando medrosa
La luz del sol sagrada,
Lànzase por el viento atropellada.
Asi va en su carrera,
Ya por un aura, de placer mecida
Que la agita ligera,
Ya del cierzo-^ impelida,
La tormentosa niebla de la vida.
Francisco Ze\.
1. Disuelve. — 2
5. Viento del norte.
Ilumine.
3. Viento suave y apacible. — 'i. Ahuyenta. —
La Casilla del Perro {Fïn\
— ;, Y como se te ocurrié la idea de dormir en la casilla sin temor â que
te descubrieran ?
— Pues el frio ; el frio me decidiô. A principio de invierno, cuando
cayo aquella nevada tan grande, i se acuerda usted ?, andaba yo buscando
sitio en ([ue recogerme, y de pronto pensé unanoche : si yo pudiera saltar la
tapia, i que calentito dormiria en la casilla de Si'HdnlY vine, y salté, y,
como yo esperaba, Sultmi me conociô, y en vez de ladrar me acariciô, y dor-
mimos juntes, como dos hermanos. Cuando amanece me voy ; pero esta
noche SuJuln saliô al jardin de pronto, ladrando como nunca, sin duda por
que algûn ratero ^^ ha querido entrar, y este senor me ha descubierto . . . .,
y no hay m as.
Callô el granuja, y Don Juan, después de meditar unos instantes, dijo asi
al portero :
— Llévate à tu casa â este chico, acouiôdale alli para que duerma tranquilo
y abrigado esta noche, y manana. . . veremos lo que se hace con él. Vé sin
temor, hijo mio, que nadie te harâ dano.
Salieron de la estancia Francisco y el pilluelo, no menos sorprendido el
16. Ladrôn.
86 PARTE ESPAr>OLA [502]
uno que cl otro, y al acostarse luego Don Juan decia en voz alta, como si
conversara con alguien :
— j Eh ! ^, Que tal ? Comia las sobras de mi perro, y se considcraba dichoso.
i Diga usted que no hay razôn para que no tengan les de abajo el odio que
produce la envidia !
V
Ocho dias después <. quien hubiera conocido al granuja, convertido en
gallardisinio lacayuelo ? Parecia otro.
Linipio, bien peinado, luciendo su traje de librea y su gorra de plalo, con
brillante botonadura de nîquel sobre el pecho, enguantadas las manos, lucia
su airosa figurilla, envidiado por sus compaaeros de servidumbre, â quienes
va aniargaban las preferencias concedidas al chicuelo por Don Juan de Algodor.
Entretcnian à este la locuacidad picaresca delcx granuja y sus ociirrencias
chistosas ' ■ ; pero mâs que todo estimulaban el carriio paternal (juc empczaba
â col)rarlo, la sinccridad, la confianza, la franqueza con que el muchacho se
exprosaba siempre.
Complaciase el bucn senor en el estudio de aqnel tipo desconocido para 61,
mczcla de candor y malicia, y gozaba lo indecible oyéndole referir sus aven-
turas callejeras, los i-ccursos inspirados por la necesidad diaria y la costumbre
de la. golf eria '^, sorprendentes y nuevas para una persona bien acomodada.
Un dia, el ayuda de câmara, oyendo à su senor elogiar calurosamente al
lacayito por sus adelantos en la lecturay la escritura, en (jne procuraba per-
feccionarle, torciô el gesto con visible desdén y se atreviô â decirle :
— Si, si, el muchacho es listo ; pero ya verâ el senor como al fin y al cabo
hace una de las suyas.
— }. Y cuales son las suyas ? — preguntô Don Juan muy airado *'.
— Yo. . . no se. . . — afiadié el criado ya balbucicntc ; pero estos chiqui-
llos criados en medio del arroyo y acostumbrados k hacersu voluntad. ...
— Mâs vale ese muchacho y mejor sentido moral demuestra en cuanto
hace y cuanto dice, que todos los que me servis liace tanto ticmpo, — dijo
Don .ïuan.
Conté"-" el criado este incidente à sus companeros, y convinieron unanimes
en que eraunachochez -' del senor sucarinoal granuja, ycreciô contra este la
envidia de los ci-iados, que desde aquel punto procuraron darle ocasiôn para
cometer alguna falta y referirsela â Don Juan y hacerle cacr de su gracia.
Pero pasaron dias, y semanas, y meses, y Periquillo siguiô cumpliendo sus
obligaciones con asiduidad y exactitud impropias de sus pocos afios.
VI
Ya para el mes de Marzo, una noche lluviosa y tria en (pie azotaba fiirioso
viento los àrboles del jardin, â las allas horas y cuando Don Juim dormia, le
sorprendiô desperlândolc su ayuda de càmara.
— l Que ocurre ? — preguntô sobresaltado.
— Senor, Perico se ha escapado de casa.
— l Que dices ?
— Casualniente hemos pasadopor su cuarto y no esta alli ; se le ha buscado
por todas partes y no parece-. Sospechàbanios hace tiein[)o (pie |)or las noches
se marchaba; pero por no dar al senor este disgusto nada habiamos dicho.
Levantôse Don Juan muy mal humorado, hizo que el ayuda de càmara le
vistiera y dié orden de que se buscase â Perico por todos los criados hasla en
lo mâs rocôndito de la casa.
— l Tendrian razôn estos brihones? — se prcguntaba el pobre seàor. —
l Sentira el muchacho la necesidad de esa vida vagabunda y se esca]>Mi-;i para
distVutar de libertad todas las noches?
17. Graciosas. — 18. Pilleria. (Pop.) — 19. Con vivitcidad, con ira. — :>0. Heliriô.
— 21. Tonteria. — 22. No se le encuentra.
[503] PARTE espaSola
Tal vt'z aqaella criatiira, en cuva regeneraciôn se complaoia el anciano, y â
qiiien cuidaba con cl esmero ([lie se cultiva un arbolito fiel que se espéra
dulces frutos, no era sino una mala hierba, incapaz de producir nada bueno.
De pronlo se le ocurriô una idea, y seguido de los criados, muy gozosos
por la ausencia dcl lacayuelo, bajô al jardin y se encaminô à la casilla del
perro.
Alli, abrazado â Suhân, y dormido profundamente, eslaba Perico, â (luien
despertô el gnuiidodel perro, sorprcndido por la inesperada visita.
— (. Que bacesaqui ? — pregunlo Don Juan.
— Senor, — i-espondiô el iiiuchacho Icvantàndose trémuIo,c()mo si luibiera
cottietido un crimen ; — el pobre Sultan auUalta todas las noches,me echaba
de menos -^. . . . y yo. . . . me be venido â dormir con él .
— j Ab ! — exclamô Don Juan ; — tû ères agradecido, tû ères bueno.
Después diô un beso en la frente al iiiucbacho, y anadiô :
Con él dormiras de boy en adelante ; pcro en tu cuarto. Arriba, arriba, y
vâmonos, que h ace aqui mucbofrio.
Y cuando, seguido de los criados y prccedido por Sultn,, y Perico, subia la
cscalera, pensaba Don Juan para si :
— Yo cultivaré tu aima generosa : la gratitud no debe (|uedar nunca sin
premio.
Miguel R.\Mos Carriôn.
23. Me encontraba en falta.
La muerte de un héroe (*
m
Apenas liabi'a llegado â su destino el regimiento de que formaba parte
Miguel Lobicki, cuando le enviaron â las avanzadas del ejército : y, pocos
dias después. trabô un combate con el enemigo. Y aunque no fué un
choque de grandes masas militares, sino mas bien una ligera escaramuza,
la fatalidad quiso no obstante que Miguel recibiese heridas graves.
^ Un sablazo le alcanz(> la cara, un proyectil le destroz() la pierna por
debajo de la rodilla, y después de cuatro meses pasados en el hospital
militar de Kharbin, una vez curado, le licenciaron para que volviese â
su pais pues habia quedado in util para el servicio.
Su pierna derecha S()lo era de carne y hueso hasta la rodilla, pues lo
restante era de palo. Una gran cicatriz colorada bajaba por la mejilla, le
partfa los labios y llegaba hasta la barba desfigurândole por completo, y
adeniâs, très dientes le f'altaban. Ya no era el buen mozo, llenode vigor
y de salud, hermoso como una estatua, que habi'a salido de su aldea ocho
meses antes. Era un lisiado, un enclenque horrible â la vista. Y, â pesar
de la cruz de los valientes que en su pecho brillaba, ya no podfa tenerle
apego â la vida.
i Santisima Madré de Dios, lo que habi'a sufrido el pobre cuerpo de
Miguel ! ; Y, cuântas torturas liacian presa en su aima, entonces que
pensaba en el regreso ! Después de su curacion, al verse por primera vez
en un espejo, habîa gritado con dolor, y mucho habi'a gemido, al verse
obligado â aprender â andar con su pierna de palo, como un niùo.
i Cuântas lâgrimas amargas, cuântas lâgriraas de desesperaciôn y de
angustia habia derramado al pensar en el regreso !
(*) Véanse las otras cuatro partes.
88 PARTE ESPANOLA (504]
Estaba delgado coino un moribiindo, pâlido conio un nuierto, y triste
como una pobre abiia condenada. j Y Mania, y Mania ! [^ Que din'a Mania f
^, Y Katia y todos los demâs ? ; Lloran'an con él y por él ! Gracias al cielo,
todos eran buenos cristianos. Y no le despreciarîan, no le rechazarian,
no, antes al contrario, le querrian y le cuidarîan. Pero, <, y Mania? [^ Le
querri'a aun, lisiado, con laespantosa pata de palo y la borriblecicatriz '?
Y el corazôn del pobre muchacbo estaba nniy OjM-imido, uuiy oprimido...
En la aldea se sabi'a que Miguel Lobicki volvia herido, pues uno de
sus companeros que sabi'a escribir habi'a enviado unacarta : pero la carta
no deci'a que las heridas eran graves y en que estado se encontraba el
desgraciado. Y eso, en la aldea lo ignoraba todo el mundo. Sin embargo,
cuando la carta Uegô, ; oh benditos santos del cielo !, piodujo laia revo-
hiciôn, una verdadera revolucion. Guabiuiera bubiese creido que Su
Excelencia el gênerai Kuropatkine, ese capitan tan famoso, iba â llegar
en persona. . .Y la pobre Mania, solloz(') como una poseîda y sin descanso
durante todo el dia.
Los japoneses, los malvados é impies japoneses a quienes el fuego del
cielo hubiese debido extinguir, habi'an herido â su Miguel, â su Miguel
amado y hermoso.
La seca Katia hizo observar entonces, y no sin agridez, que en vez de
llorar por las heridas de su prometido, mejor haria alegrândose por su
regreso, como un ângel del cielo, por su prûximo regreso, y como anadio
que daba pruebas de albergar sentimientos poco dignos de una buena
cristiana, y de un amor muy superlicial, Mania cest'» de lamentarse. Al ver
lo cual, el viejo Leschko, contentîsimo, declaro que su hija era una
heroina digna de un héroe.
En la aldea todo el mundo esperaba el regreso de Miguel con curiosidad
ardiente en la que se mezclaba la ansiedad y la preocupaciôn. Pero el
regreso se hizo esperar mucho mâs de lo que permiti'an los limites de la
espéra. Miguel se vi('> precisadoâ interrumpir su viaje; tuvo que detenerse,
mâs uuas veces, menos otras, en algunas aldeas de Siberia, hasta que
pudo tomar el tren. ^Por que? Nunca lo supo, y solo le decîan que se
trataba de secretos militares. Al tin, después de un viaje atroz, lleg() a
Varsovia, y alli se produjo un nuevo paro de très di'as. Eu cambio, lue
presentado â Su Excelencia el gênerai quien le prodig() palabras de elogio
y ademâs le dio algunas hermosas monedas de oro.
Entonces pudo continuar el viaje, pero al llegar â la estacicm empezû
por abordar â un empleado. Confuso sentimiento de angustia, de vergù-
enza y de dolor le llevô â suplicar con insistencia al empleado para ((ue
fuese lo bastante bueno y generoso para expedirle, pagândole su trabajo,
claro esta, un telegrama.
Y asi fué como Katia Garowicz recibii) un telegrama de su liermauo.
En él le indicaba la hora de su llegada, le suplicaba ipieno dijesenada
a nadie, y que fuese s<')la â la estaci(')n con un cochecito.
Y si toda la aldea supo média hora después que Miguel llegaba. no fué
Katia sola quien tuvo la culpa, no, sino que también la tuvoel empleado
del ferrocarril del lugar.
[Conlinuarâ.)
Friedrich Werner van Oestrren.
Traducciùn del aleuiân.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 12.
20 Mars 190S.
8' Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
La Riita del Lazarillo
Se ha escrito La RuLa de Bon Quijote : se podrin, se deberia escribir La Rida
del Lazarillo de Tor„>ps. Los iinicos nombres propios que hay en esta admi-
rable novelason
el del protago-
nista y los de sus
progeni tores ; el
protagonista se
llamaba [.âzaro
Gonzalez y Fe-
rez ; su vida,
adversidades y
forlunas (estas
iiltimas fiieron
bien pocas), to-
dos vosotros las
conocéis. Lâzaro
saliô de Sala-
manca con el
ciego â correr el
mundo ; Sala-
manca estaba
entonces llena
de estudiantes ;
prosperidad. Pero toda esta
— un tanto' escéptica, so-
r.azai'ill
a posada.
oraciones, no ténia nada que
hervia en vida juvenil, audaz ; habia dinero.
gente estudiantil debia ser — como ahora
carrona -, y un ciego, con sus ensalmos ^ y
hacer entre ella. Se marcharon Làzaro y el ciego. Si no recordamos mal, de
Salamanca fueron â dar ^ en Escalona. Esta si que era nna ciudad â proposito
para las operaciones y especulaciones de estos amigos. Escalona es una vieja
poblacién ; â fines del siglo XVIII, segûn nos cuenta Don Antonio Vegas en
su Diccionario geoffrâfico, (que es de dicha época), habia en Escalona un con-
vento de monjas y otro de f'railes ; en 1613 se instituyô en ella una iglesia
colegial con cuatro dignidades, seis canonjias, très raciones, dos médias
raciones y seis capellanes. Claro esta que todo esto no exislia alla por 1514,
que es cuando Lâzaro y el ciego anduvieron por aquellas callejas ; pero esto
demueslra que Escalona era una poblaciôn grande, bien poblada, antigua, y
que en ella habria-todas estas viejas rezadoras, todas estas comadres amigas
de novenas y velatorios, todos estos sencillos labriegos ^ que forman el
mundo especial en que maniobran ciegos, ensalmadores S sakidadores '',
curanderos *, zahories ^ v otros taies.
1. Un poco, algo. — 2. Astuta, disimulada. —
4. A parar. — 5. Labradores, gente de campo. -
mos. — 1. Embaucador que prétende curar la
8. Que ejerce de médico sin serlo. — 9. Adivino.
[69]
3. Modos supersticiosos de curar. —
- 6. Que curan por medio de ensal-
rabia û otros maies con saliva. —
ESPA6. 12
90
PARTE KSPANOLA
f546J
En Escalona es de presumir que niiestros amigos hicieran négocie, como
vnlgarmenle se dice. Pero en esta poblaciôn fué donde Lâzaro recobrô su
independencia. No es necesario relatar la aventura*"; ello es cosa que ocu-
rriô, como recordarâ el Icctor, en una posada. Lâzaro desde Escalona se mar-
chô â escape â Torrijos ; su lema al jugarle la treta al ciego parece que era
este : Mwiho sabe la raposa, pero mâs sabe el que la toma ". De Torrijos, Lâzaro
se encaminô â un lugar llamado Maqueda ; aqui en este lugar, la raposa
tomada fué el pobre miichachillo^^. Era él demasiado joven y no ténia expe-
riencia ; su mala suerte le llevô â servir en casa de un pobre clérigo. Nosotros
hemos hecho el viaje de Torrijos â Maqueda ; buscâbamos aqui la casa en
que morô '^ dicho sacerdote. No la pudimos encontrar : el cura aclual de la
parroquia es un sefior afable, discreto y lleno de indulgencia. ^ Viviô en esta
misnia casa en que vive él, aquel olro su antecesor ? Maqueda tiene una
iglesia ruinosa, sin techumbre, convertida en cementerio ; hay también alli
una alcazaba que sirve de parroquia ; hay una sola almazara, con una gran
prensa de viga, donde se muele toda la aceituna de los vecinos, y hay un
arrumbado castillo situado en un allozano, y desde donde se columbran las
lejanas montanas azules, las techumbres pardas del pueblo yel riachuelo que
cruza culebreando por unas hnertas.
Desde Maqueda, Lâzaro se encaminô âToIedo. Esta fué su ùltima jornada.
J. iMartInez Ruiz.
10. Kscena reproducida por el dibujo qiio pubhcamos con este articule. — H.
Refrân que amonesta que ninguno, por advertido que sen, debe ûarse de su saga-
cidad, pues puede haber otro mâs astuto que le engafie. — 12. En Maqueda tué
donde Lazare empezô a conocer las privaciones y los sufrimientos, sirviendo en casa
de un sacerdote que por ser muy pobre apenas si podia darle de corner. — 13. Viviô.
La mano derecha y ia
mano izquierda
Aunque la gente se alurda
Dire, sin citar la fecha,
Lo que la mano derecha
Le dijo un dia â la ztirda '.
Y por si aiguno creyô
Que no hay izquierda con labia ^,
Dire también lo que sabia
La zurda le contesté.
Es, pues, el caso que un dia.
Viéndose la mano diestra
En todo lista y maestra,
A la izquierda reprendia.
— Veo, exclamé con ahinco,
Que nunca vales dos bledos,
Puesteniendo cinco dedos,
Siempre ères torpe en los cinco.
Nunca puedo conseguir
Verte coser ni bordar ;
i Tû una aguja manejar 1
Lo mismito que escribir.
1. Izquierda. — 2. Facilidad para lia-
blar.
Eres lerda ^ y no me grunas,
Pues no puedes, aunque quieras
Xi manejar las tijeras
Para cortarme las uîias.
Yo en tanto las corto â li,
Y tû en ello te com places.
Pues todo lo que no haces
Carga siempre sobre mi.
;, Dirâsme, por Belcebû,
En que demonios consista
El que, siendo yo tan lista,
Seas torpe siempre tû ?
— Mi aplitud, dijo la izquierda,
Siempre â la tuya ha igualado ;
Pero â ti te han educado,
Y â ml me han criado lerda.
<;De que me sirve tener
Aptitud para mi oficio
Si no tengo el ejercicio
Que la hace desenvolver^ !
La izquierda tuvo razôn,
Por que, lectores, no es cuento :
^De que os servira el talento.
Si os falta la cducacidn ?
i\l. A. Principe,
Torpe.
i. Desarrollar.
[547J PARTE KSPAINOf.A 91
Tardes de Invierno.
iConclii'fiÔTi.)
En el lago del Monasterio de Piedra.
Adela. — ; Hermoso lago !
' El Padre. — Que bien se reflejan en él loscerros que lo limitan, los ârboles
de sus riberas, el aznl del cielo !
Adela.— No quiebran ' ni entiirbian tan claro espejo susmuchas plantas.
El Padre. — Espejos fieles son casi todos los lagos. En alguno debié reco-
nocerse por vez primera el hombre.
Adela. — En el lago delParaiso donde iba âmorir un arroyo, dice Miltôn,
que Eva, à poco de nacida, vin un sér que reproduria sus moviinieiitos.
Asustôse de pronto ; estuvo después absortabasta que una voz le dijo : «Eso
que vcs, hermosa criatura, ères tû niisma ; ven y te llevaré adonde no sea
una sombra el sér que te anhela - ».
El Padrf. — iMurmuraba el arroyo de que habla Milton ; entr;«n aqui silen-
ciosamente en el lago aguas no menos puras. Ye romo corren entre esas
rocas.
Adela. — (. Sôlo de cse raudal se alimenta el lago "?
El Padre. — Hay en el lecho otros manantiales. Mâs alla de ese ri'islico
puente de leàos ^ que enlaza las dos orillas, cerca de los sauces que tan dul-
cemente besan las aguas, hay uno â que da el sol de la manana ricas vis-
lumbres y bellos colores.
Adela. — Grande es el lago.
El Padre. — Grande no ; poético. Hélo aqui dormido en la gargantade dos
montes, sin que apenas lo ricen las brisas, sin que le lurbe la quielud sino
el canto de algunas aves 6 el graznido de los cuervos.
Adela. — A la luz del crepûsculo, â la de la luna 6 bajo cerradas nubes,
debe esto ser mâs miedoso que poético.
El Padre. — Mâs poético que ahora. No se hace entonces dificil compren-
der que los antiguos quiches Mlegaran â ver canoas de espectros deslizândose
calladamente por las aguas del Ilopango.
Adela. — En America, he oido que los lagos son mares.
El Padre. — En America y en Africa. En la America del Norte, el lago
Siiperior mide, donde es mâs largo, 572 kilômetros ; donde mâsancho, 258 ;
de profundidad média, 295 métros. Tiene oleaje ; sus olas son casi tan allas
como las del Allântico. Padre de otros lagos, desagua en el Océano por el
rio de San l.orenzo.
Adela. — iMuchos serân sus manantiales.
El Padre. — Ignoro si los tiene. GuarenLa rios le dan tributo.
Adela. — (.Es diversa la alimentaciôn de los lagos ?
El Padre. — No tan diversa como algunos suponen. Viven los lagos, ya de
caudal propio, ya de caudal ajeno, ya de caudal ajeno y propio. Prescindo
de los que sôlo alimenta la lluvia y de los que no son sino rebalsas de rios,
â que corta el paso una muralla de rocas. Rebâlsanse estos rios hasta vencer
el borde superior de la muralla 6 hasta donde lo exige la estrechez de su
desaguadero
Diferencianse los lagos bajo otro punto de vista, Los hay que son sepulcro
1. Rompen. — 2. Preocupa. — 3. Troncos — 4. Riberenos del Ilopango.
92 PARTE ESPANOLA [5481
de los rios que reciben ; los hay que son fiiente y origen de nuevos rios ; los
hay que h rios sirven de paso. Por ei lago de Ginebra pasa el caudaloso
Rôdano.
La acciôn del lago sobre los rios es en este caso notoria. Pierden los rios
velocidad, se desprenden de las materias que arrastraron en su mâs 6
menos impetuoso curso, y salen del lago mâs limpios y trasparentes. Su
estiaie-"^ es mucho menor : tanto, que es casi nulo el del rio de San l.orenzo.
Diferencianse, ademâs, los lagos, por su origen. Datan algunosdel anterior
période geolôi<ico, de los tiempos glaciales, y se los supone debidos â la
acciôn de los grandes hielos; derivan otros de antigiias erupciones volcâni-
cas. Figuran entre los primeros los de Suiza, los de la Escandinavia del
Mediodia y los de Finlandia, la mayor parte de los de Escocia y el Norte de
Inglaterra, y, en gênerai, los muy profundos y de escarpadas "^ màrgenes.
Figuran entre los otros los de Albano y Nemi, abiertos en el flanco occiden-
tal del iMonte-Cavo, y al decir de Judd, los de Bracciano y Bolsena, el uno
de iOkilémetros de diâmetro ; el otro de 16 de longitud por mâs de 14 de
anchura.
Adela. — i Lagos debidos à volcanes 1
ElPadre. — Los volcanes en sus sacudimientos alteran las condiciones de
las lierras vecinas. Agiias que antes corrian siiblerrâneamente, rasguda la
coslra que las contenia salen à la superficie. Hay lagos en los rnismos cratè-
res de algiinos volcanes. No hace dos siglos y medio, el aiïo 1638, saltô el
pico de Timor, faro de los marinos â 450 kilomètres de distancia, y apareciô
un lago en la sima que la explosion produjo.
AuELA. — Maravillada estoy de oirte. (. Son eternos los lagos ?
El Padre. — No hay en la historia noticia de que ninguno de los grandes
lagos baya desaparecido. Hanse retirado aignnos y ban disminuido en aguas.
Eslo ha sucedido con los del valle de Méjico. aiin antes de haberse abierto
el canal de Nochistongo.
Un lago recuerdo que desapareciô de subito liace poco mâs de un siglo.
En el aho 1783, en los liltimos dias de xMayo, cubriô una niebla azulada las
ciimbres del Skapla-Yocul, montes de Lslandia, nunca por nadie pisados.
ïembld â poco la tierra, y el dia 8 de Junio alzâronse al Noi'te inmensas
columnas de humo que, dirigiéndose al Sur, dejaron en la oscuridad todo el
distrito de Lida. Cayô entonces, sobre la haz'' del pais, un torbellino de
cenizas, de que el dia 10 brotaron Hamas sin numéro, que iban sin césar
alumbrando las nevadas vertientes de la cordillera. Desapareciô en tanto el
rio Skapta, uno de los mayores de la isla, después de haber arrastrado por
la llanura énormes volûmenes de agna fétida y lodo volcâmco.
A los dos dias empezô â caer de los altos montes un torrcnle de lava, un
torrenle que ténia m<is de 6uO pies de espesor y mâs de 200 de anchura Inva-
diô el yaseco cauce del rio ; no cabiendo en él, se derramô por ambas ori-
llas; y después de haber quemado y asolado lasbajas tierras de Medàlland, se
prccipilô en un lago. El lago, con no i>er pequeno, quedô al punto sin agua.
El agua se desvaneciô en los aires birvieudo y silbando.
Adkla. — ; Hasta, padre, basta ! Tii,humilde lago de Piedra, no lieues vol-
can que te amonace. Aunque lo hubiera, no hallaria cauce de rio por donde
llevar hasta ti sus torrentes de fuego. Llâmante el lago de la Pena del Diablo,
porque mansamente lames los pies del pehôn de este nombre; deberian ll;i-
marte el lago OciHto ô el lago del Silencio.
De ese manantial que le alimenta permiteme que llene mi copay en ti la
vierta. No hallo para el agua ofrenda me.jor que el agua. Todo lo alegra y lo
fecunda. Limpia los cuerpos, y para casi todas las religiones, las aimas.
5. Nivel màs 6 menos bajo de las aguas corrientes por efecto del calor del estio.
— 6. Agrestes, peligrosas. — 1. Superficie.
549j PARTE E8PA(\0LA 93
El Padre. — También yo amo el agua. También }0 la tongo como Pindaro
por alto don de la naturaleza. Agua limpia en llmpio cristal es para mi el
colmo de lo bello.
Adela.— Agua y cristal \ son tan parecidos ! Ambos son de un color, ambos
tranf'parentes. Ambos descomponen los rayos del sol en los colores del Iris.
El Padre. — Si, hija mia, si; el cristal no parece sino agua sôlida; el agua
no parece sino cristalliquido. . . Bebamos de esta fuente y démos la vuelta
al lago.
Francisco Pi v Margall.
Fuego del real'.
Corria ya el mes de julio sin que hubiesen dejado ver los sitiadores el
menor sintoma de abalimiento 6 de cansancio, cuando acaeciô'^ en el campo
cristiano tan inesperado desastre, que con recordarlo hoy en dia, se erizan
los cabellos de espanto. Iba ya de vencida la noche, y reinaba en las estan-
cias un profundisimo silencio, como si no hubiese aima viviente en todo su
recinto ; sélo se oia el sordo murmullo del viento, que zumbaba de cuando
en cuando, barriendo la llanura y azotando las tiendas, que ai recio embate
retemblaban. Dormia el rey Don Fernando, rendido el ânimo y el cuerpo con
la carga^ de la gobernaciôn y el peso de las armas ; dormian alli cerca sus
hijos con el sueno de la inocencia, apacible y suave, en tanto que en el
pabellôn inmediato velaba la reina Dona Isabel, cual si fuese el ângel custo-
dio del campo.
Acostumbraba aquella piadosisima seiiora, asi que se despedia de su esposo
y echaba la bendioiôn ci sus hijos, permanecer en oraciôn algunas horas,
pidiendo â Dios por aquellas prendas de su carino, asi como por la paz y
prosperidad de los reinos que le habia encomendado. A veces quedaba tan
embebecida^, cual si tuviese con los cielos un secreto coloquio^ y solia
sorprenderla la aurora, hincada de rodillas y con un libro de devociôn en la
mano.
Asi se hallaba aquella aciaga^ noclie, cuando al sentir de cerca una râfaga
de viento, volviô impensadamente el rostro y vid el resplandor de las Hamas.
Ni aun tiempo tuvo para discernir lo que era : veia arder su eslancia, y ata-
jada la ptierta con el fuego y el humo ; y sin cuidarse del propio peligro,sali6
por medio del incendio para salvar â su esposo y â sus hijos que tan descui-
dados estaban. Al grito que arrojara, saliô el rey del lecho, creyendo que los
moros habian entrado en el campo, y desnudando la espada, partie como un
rayo para salvar la hueste. Entretanto la solicita madré entraba eu la tienda
donde dormian sus hijos, los sacaba en brazos, y corria desatentada por medio
del incendio, buscando un asilo seguro en que depositarlos. . . La voz y el
aliento le faltaban ya, cuando se viô rodeada de sus mâs fieles servidores
que se disputaban la gloria de sacar de las Hamas â la reina 6 perecer en la
demanda'. Por que es de advertir que âpenas sono en el campo la voz de
; Fuego ! y cundiô ** el rumor de que habia prendido en la tienda misma de los
reyes, corrieron é un tiempo miles y miles de guerreros y penetraron por
en medio de aquella hoguera ; no dândose por satisfechos hasta que tuvie-
ron la certeza de que los monarcas y sus hijos estaban sanosy salvos. Lo
\. El real, sitio donde se encuentra la tienda del rey ô del gênerai, por extension
donde acampa el ejército. — 2. Ocurriô. — 3. Las preocupaciones. — 4. Abstraida. —
5, Conversaciôn. — 6. Infausta, desgraciada. — T. La empresa. — 8. Circulo.
94 PARTE ESPANOLA IE50]
que aiimcnlô hiista lo sumo la confusion y el desorden, fiié que cundio la
vozde que los moros eran les que habian pueslo l'uego, y que â la sazôn
asallaban el campo. En lugar, pues, de atajar el incendio, corrian los gue-
rreros à defender los reaies, ansiosos de apagar en sangre intlel la juslisima
sed de venganza. Acudiô el rey uno de los primeros, mostrando en aquel
trance su serenidad acostumbrada : acudiô el marqués de Càdiz, capitane-
ando gran parte de la hueste ; y pesaroso de no topar con los enemigos, se
adelanlo Fernândez de Côrdoba por medio de la vega, para cerrarles el paso,
si iolentaban prevalerse" de aquel desastre.
Al liempo de esclarecer se viô cuan grande habia sido, templândose sola-
mente el dolor de tamaôa pérdida al reflexionar que los principes se habian
salvado por favor especial del cielo. Tan inquietos y recelosos estaban los
soldados, que fué menester que la reina se mostrase una vez y otra para que
sus propios ojos se cerciorasen. ] A Granada ! Gritaban aquellos valientes,
i  Granada ! este es el mejor medio de que novuelvan esos aleves à pertur-
bar el sueno de nuestros monarcas.
Trabajo costô al rey contener el arrojo de la hueste que casi estuvo â punto
de caminar hacia la ciudad para tomarla por asalto. Templô el prudente
monarca aquellos impetus ; y diô orden y concierto, â (in de que pudiese
acamparse el ejército en aquel mismo paraje. Habianse quemado casi todas
las tiendas, como que eran de lienzo y sederia, labradas muchas casas con
lenos secos y enramadas. Cundiô pues el incendio, como suele en la misma
vega arder en las noches de estio un campo de rastrojo ^^. Pocoônadase
salvô del estrago : la tienda de la reina, que era magnifica â no caber mâs,
como regalada por el marqués de Câdiz, â la par generoso que bizarro *',
quedô reducida â pavesas ; y tuvo aquella princesa que recogerse con sus
hijos en la estancia del Arzobispo de Sevilla, una de las pocas que por acaso
se salvaron.
Mas en cuanto supo aquel desastre la nobilisima senora doua Maria Manri-
que, esposa de Gonzalo Fernândez de Cordoba, se apresurd â enviar desde
lUora no solo una tienda hermosisima para laReina, sino cuanto habia menes-
ter para su servicio y regalo. Lo cual diô margen â que, apenas volviô aquel
caudillo de provocar en vano à losmor"os en las puertas mismas de la ciudad,
le dijese la reina doiïa Isabel estas donosas palabras : « Gonzalo Fernândez,
sabed que alcanzô el fuego de mi câmara en vueslra casa : que vuestra
mujer mâs y mejor me en viô que se me quemô «.
El incendio habia sido realiuente casual, pero no habia fuerzas humanas
que bastasen â desarraigar el concepto de que era obra de los moros ; va
proviniese esta creencia del odio con que se les miraba, creyéndolos causa-
dores de todos los maies ; ya naciese de la natural inclinaciôn de los hom-
bres, que porlo comûn se complacen en atribuir â causas singularesy extra-
ordinarias aun los acontecimientos mâs sencillos.
Allegôse también que en la ciudad se lisonjearon los infielesde haber sido
ellos los que pusieron fuego al rampo cristiano ; no faltando quien atri-
buyese esta hazaha al moro Tarfe, hijo del pueblo de este nombre, que era
tenido por el mâs valiente y arrojado de cuantos defendian â Granada. Para
dar mâs apariencia de verdad al heclio que se atribuia, ô para hacer nueva
muestra del poder de su brazo, presentose por aquellos dias â vista de los
Ileales ; y con arrogante altivez i-etô â singular combateâ cuantos caballeros
en él se encontraban sin exceptuar al mismo rey don Fernando.
[Conduira.) Martine/ de la Rosa.
9. Aprovecharse. — 10. Residuo de canas de la mies. — 11. Valiente.
[551 I PARTE espanola 9o
La muerte de un héroe.
IV
Casi todos ciiantos habian asistido a la marcha de Miguel Lobicki
estaban en la estaciôn aguardando su regreso. Y describir la agitaciôn,
la anslosa curiosidad con la cual se esperaba al joven héroe que por la
patria habia derramado su sangre roja y generosa, era cosa imposible.
Katia estaba tan turbada, que habia olvidado el cochecito pedido,
y habia acLidido a pie; y solo Juan Leschko y su linda hija habian ido en
sa élégante carrnaje aniarillo con cojines repletos de heno y forrados
de cuero.
El cuerpo de Mania teniblaba : unas veces estaba pâlida, tan pâlida
1 santo Dios 1 que pareci'a de cera, y momentos después se poni'a colorada
y no parecîa si no que la hubiese tefiido la sangre derraniada por Miguel.
Y en honor de la verdad preciso es decirque el viejo Leschko no estaba
menos emocionado, pero nunca, jamâs, j h'brele Dios desemejante cosa !
hubiese querido deniostrarlo. Y hablando lo menos posible, no quitân-
dose la pipa de la boca y rodeàndose de espesas nubes de humo, siipo
fingir perfectisimamente la mayor tranquilidad.
Kasper Garowicz imitaba â Juan, cosa que le sentaba maravillosamente,
pues era tan tonto que no podi'a despegar los labios sin hacerse rega-
nar por Katia. Pero en cambio, todos los demas hablaban, todos aque-
llosqne, ociosos y curiosos esperaban alli, y hablaban tanto mâs cuanto
mas esfuerzos hacian para callar los pr(3xiinos parientes de Miguel. Y
por instantes el tumulte llegaba â ser tan grande que el empleado del
ferrocarril les suplicaba, con entonaciôn â la vez correcta y severa,
que « tuviesen quieta â la sin hueso ".
Por fin apareciô el tren. Avanzu lenta, muy lentamente, y el suelo tem-
bl('). Y Mania teinblô con mayor violeucia todavia, y tuvo (jue apoyarse
con todo su peso contra su padre para no caer.
A un silbido prolongado las ruedas cesaron de girar, y la muchedum-
bre de curiosos prorrumpiô en gritos como nunca se habian oido.
V el nombre del viajero se oi'a constantemente repetido entre las excla-
maciones :
« j Hurra ! ; Viva Miguel ! ; Bienvenido sea ! j Que la Santa Madré de
Dios le bendiga ! i Yiva el héroe ! »
{Continuarà.y
Friederich Webner van Oestéren.
Traducciôn del alemdn.
Véanse las otras cuatro partes.
El Sol y la Noche.
Encendido en sus propias liamaradas
La sed dévora el luminar del dia,
V eterno amante de la noche fri'a,
96 PARTE ESPANOLA [552J
Persigue sus espaldas enlutadas.
Sediento de sus sombras regaladas',
En vano corre la abrasada vi'a,
Que él mismo va pouiendo el bien que ansia-
Donde nunca penetran sus miradas.
La dicha ausente y el afân consigo,
Arde y redobla su imposible instancia,
Llevando en sus entranas su enemigo.
Asi corro con bârbara constancia.
Y siempre encuentro mi ansiedad conmigo
Y el bien ansiado â la mayor distancia.
Adelardo Lôpez de Avala.
1. Suaves, delicadas. — 2. Desea.
Epigrama.
Viendo un eiitierro, el caribe'
De un centineia inexperto,
Dijo â lo lejos ; — i, Quién vive
Y contestaron : — Un muerto.
J. M. VlLLERGAS.
1 . Sulvaje.
Frases hechas.
Tonterias usuales. i
Rodriguez es muy rico.
; Riqufsimo !
^ Tendra mâs de un millon de pesetas, eh '!
1 Mucho mâs ! Ese no se déjà ahorcar ni por dos millones.
j Ya lo creo ! Ni Rodriguez ni nadie.
Don Facundo, en mediode la aniniada conversaciôn de la tertulia, se
pasa la noche dando cabezadas.
— Facundo, le dice su esposa, que te estas durmiendo.
— No tiene nada de particular, contesta él, porque ya sahes que liace
dîas estoy faite de sueho.
Que es precisamente lo que le sobra.
Les Cinq Langues
N° 13.
5 Avril 1908.
8° Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
La cocina.
A mi parecer, ei caballo de mas talla que ha existido en cl mundo lue
uno de carton que, siendo yo chico ', me comprô mi padrc en la feria
de Almagro ; la lumbre que mas calienta, la de mi casa, y la cocina
mâshermosade
La vida de la casa aduia à la cocina...
la tierra, la
m l'a .
Habi'a que ver
la cocina aque-
lla ; su clîime-
nea de campa-
na, las Hâves
fuertes, las tré-
l)edes- desco-
munales, losso-
carradores-' de
encina, losbra-
zados de lena
que en el hogar
ardian, las sa-
brosas morci-
llas y pedazos
de tasajos que se curaban en el humero, y, al terminai" el canon, el
respiradero rectangular por donde se veia el cielo gris de los di'as
otonales. En las paredes, pendientes de clavos y alcayatas, habi'a ris-
tras de ajos, sartas de pimientos colorados y de guindillas picantes.
Golgabandel techo melones y racimos de uvas, chorizos y bofenas^. En
la viga que formaba el reborde de la chimenea teniamns colocadas
vasijas y objetos diversos, loza de la Cartuja, la caja del' tabaco del
abuelo, y en los gartios de las espeteras, cazos antiguos, peroles, sar-
tenes, provectos^ calentadores de mangos torneados, tapadeias de lat('>n,
ralladeras, el almirez obligado y la imprescindible palangana de relu-
ciente métal, que resplandecia como un astre.
Desde principios de Noviembre la vida de la casa afluia â la cocina. Los
abuelos ocupaban los sillones de preferencia, â derecha é izqnierda del
hogar ; en sillas acomodâbanse mis padres y las personas que alli
iban de visita ; nosotros, los chicos, en banquetas. Después de rezar al
toque deoraciones, la gente granada departia», las mujeres hilaban unas,
otras hacian girar las devanaderas ô aechaban trigo ; los muchachos
1. l'equefio. — 2. Aro o triangulo de hierro con très pies que sirve para poner al
fiiego sartenes y peroles. — 3. Tostadores. — 4. Knibucliado de bofes de cerdo.
(Proviiicia de laMancha.) — 5. AntisAiios. — 6. HaJjlaba.
[75] KSPAG. 13
98 PARTK KSPANOLA |594]
contâbamos historias y cuentos, y vivîanios felices en ese mundo idéal
en que existen nobles y valientes caballeros : el mundo de Rolando, del
Cid, de Artùs y Bernardo del Garpio.
He pretendido no liace mucho tienipo représentai- aqiiel cuadro ; dis-
puse la escena comoel director mâsperito. No faltaban las morcillas al
liumero, el vasar limpio, las can tareras, las ruecas, los dos candiles ali-
zados, el velôn de cuatro mecheros con sus despabiladeras, la lumbre que
levantaba Hamas, el lecho de ascuas del liogar, el caldero de la lejia, la
bateria de pncheros con sus acrimadores ; pero laltaba lo insubstituible :
mis abuelos y mis padres, mis tios y mis parienles viejos. Al sonar el
toque de Animas entré yo el primero en la cocina y me sente en una
banqueta, en mi sitio de costumbre ; luego llegaron mi mujer y mis hijos,
mi hermanay mis amigos. Al verme en la banqueta todosse admiraron ;
aunque yo me obstinaba en no levantarme, quieras que no, me obliga-
ron à ello. Me rendi a su solicitud y â las muestras de consideraciôn y
respeto que me daban. Ellos no pararon hasta hacerme sentar en el si-
llon de mi abuelo. Formas que avivé el luego, estuve sin entrar en calor
loda la noche.
Vireilio Colguero.
FuegO del real {Conclusion).
El clamor que aqiiel desafuero *- causô en el campo cristiano, es mâs fâcil
imaginailo que describirlo : todos los capitanes pedian à una voz salir â cas-
tigar laniaùa osadia ; (juien alegaba sus sorvicios y merecimientos ; quien
iinpioraba el favor de la Iteina para ser el favorecido ; quien dejaba traslucir
el propôsito de pelear brazo â brazo con el inoro, aun cuando luego el Rey
castigase con pena de la vida la desobediencia à su mandate. Toda la pruden-
cia del principe se hubo menesler para calmar el ardor de tantos valientes,
sin alentar sus esperanzas ni lastimarsus gcnerosos impetus ; liasta que ago-
tados todos los recursosy para no suscitar l'ivalidad ni descontenlo, anunciô
por l'illimo el Monarca que la eleccidn se encomendaria à la suerte.
Mas anles que este se verificase, liabia dispucsto el cielo que un mancebo
de pocos anos hundiese en el polvo la altivez del alarbe. Pues como hubiese
oido el mozo (Jarcilaso el desafio de Tarte, y presenciase la contienda de los
caltalleros y capitanes que disputaban à porfia la gloria de vcncerle, saliô de
oculto aquèlla misma noche, retô de aleve al nioro y le emplazô para el punto
(pie rompiese el alba â la inmediaciôn de los Reaies.
Al llegar al paraje destinado, tuvo â nienos el intiel niedir sus armas con
aquel rapaz '^ cuyas mejillas apenas sombreaba el bozo ; pero fué tal el
empeno de Garcilaso y con tan acerosas palabras punzô el oi-guUo del ferez
adversario, que al cabo desnudô este el all'ange, dispuesto à segar como quien
corta el tallo de una azucena, el delicado cuello de aquel mozo : no sabia el
intiel que l)ios ostenta à veces su poder y grandeza, armando el brazo mâs
débil para humillar la altivez de un giganle.
A los pocos lances, ya estaba Tarfe traspasado el pecho de morlal berida y
revolcàndose en su sangre ; y al salir el sol, presentôse Garcilaso en el campo
cristiano, ostenlando en la niano izquierda un escudo cou el glorioso tinibre
del Ave Maria, y en la punla de su lanza la cabeza de Tarfe, que aun desan-
grada y yerta parecia que estaba amenazando.
Hicièron los reyes al bizarro doncel mcrcedes muy cumplidas, otorgândole
que perpetuase la fama de a([uel hecho en el escudo de sus armas. Hoy dia
es, y aun se ve un monumento religioso, levaulado eu el paraje mismo en que
triunfô Garcilaso jior la visible protecciôn del cielo.
12. Atrevimiento. — 13. Chicuolo.
[595j PARTE espaSiOla 99
Cclebraron todos à porfia el estreno de tan buena lanza, dândole â com-
petencia mil plàcemes y enhorabuPn;is ; pues apenas hubo en el campo un
solo caballero que no anhelase tentai- alguna hazana de su cuenta y riesgo,
ya que no hahia qiierido la suerte concederle aqiiella Victoria.
Sobre todo (lonzalo de Cdrdoba llego hasta el piinto de perder el sueno ;
no leniendo paz ni reposo hasta vengar en Granada misma el incendio del
campo. Salifj, pues, con este designio '^ una noche oscurisima, seguido sola-
mente de unos cuantos giierreros, y atravesando el espacioso llano, siguio la
corriente del (Jenil hasta acercarse'con él à la ciudad, por la parte que mira
â la Sierra Nevada Xo lejos de la senda de los Abencerrajes hizo alto con su
gente ; y alli los recomendo la mayor precauciôn y sigilo, al subir por la
cuesta de los Molinos, para no ser sentidos de los 'moros. Su inlenciôn ero
aprovecharse del descuido en que se encontraban, muy ajenos de sospechar
tan temeraria empresa, para apoderarse de improviso del cerro de Albaul
(llamado hoy Campo de los màrtires) ; y dando libertad â los infelices cauti-
vos, regocijar al campo cristiano con aqnel riquisimo tesoro.
No quiso la suerte inconstante (como si estuviese cansada ya de tar.la
gloria) coronar la obra del bizarro caudillo ; y la impaciencia misma de los
que le seguian, celoso cada cual de ser el primero que alcanzase la palma,
diô margen â tal confusion y desorden, que se malogrô por su causa uno de
los hechos mâs insignes que en aquellos liempos se inlentaron.
El furor de Gonzalo de Gôrdoba, al ver tan cerca la ocasiôn de inmortali-
zarse, y que se le escapaba de las manos, no hay palabras con que retratar-
lo : â voz en grito llamaba â losmoros, deseoso de perder la vida en el mismo
paraje ; â fuèrza de ruegos y de instancias pudieron apartarle de aquel sitio
los amigos que le acompatiaban : pero al Uegar al punto en que el Dauro y
el Genil mezclaban sus aguas, recordo la quema de los realcs ; y sonrojado
de dejarla impune, encendiô una antorcha que â prevenciôn Iraia ; y dando
una recia espolonada â su caballo, llegn hasta el castillo de Bihtaubin y pren-
diô fuego â una de sus puertas.
Tal fué sorpresa de los moros, que ni lugar luvieron de estorbarlo ; y por
màs prisa que se dieron de salir al campo, ya era demasiado tarde para alcan-
zar â los cristianos. ^lentira pareciô al siguiente dia, que hubiese homhre
capazde tanto arrojo :y aun susurrândose en la ciudad que quizâ séria obrade
algunos malcontentos, desasosegése la gente y estallô un horrible tumulto.
Cuando Gonzalo de Gôrdoba llegô h los reàles, mostr.'ibase tan abatido y
apesadumbrado, por no haber dado cima â su empresa, como pudiera estarlo
el reo de alguna acciôn bastarda. Menester fué que los reyes le alentasen con
benignas palabras, recordândole los claros hechos que en tan temprana
edad habia ejecntado y los muchos que se prometia Espana de su gran
prudencia y esfuerzos.
Los capitanes y caballeros principales â la par le animaban, y sus amigos
allegados no omitieron tampoco nada de cuanto pudiese calmar su desabri-
miento '^ Entre todos ellos se aventajô Hernân Pérez del Pulgar, tan incapaz
de villana envidia, que miraba à Gonzalo con laadmiraciôn y. entusiasmo que
se contemplaba à un héroe, anotando todos los pasos de su vida, para de-
jarla â la posteridad como dechado '^.
Mas en aquella ocasiôn no solo sintiô la pena de su amigo, sino que el
malogro de su empresa y la alarma de la ciudad le obligasen à retardar el
cumplimiento del voto que habia hecho anos atrâs en Alhama, y que habia
renovado con nicâs tervor todavia al presenciar pocos dias antes el fuego de
los reaies.
Aguardô, pues, â que se borrase algûn tanto la memoria del reciente suceso ;
y cuando ya iba muy entrado el invierno, llevô â cabo la empresa que por
largo tiempo ténia meditada. En una oscurisima noche, pénétré por el cauce
derDauro hasta el centre mismo de la ciudad ; y con su propia mano pren-
diô fuego â la puerfa de la Mezquita Mayor, dejando clavado en sus muros
un rôtulo con cl nombre de la Reina del Cielo. Toma de posesiôn la mks
peregrina y gloriosa que presenciara el mundo, regocijando â la par los
coros de los àngeles, y anunciando como muy prôxima la compléta libera-
ciôn de Espaiia*: ' ' IVlARiiNEz de la Rosa.
14. Propôsito. — 15. Contrariedad. — 16. Ejemplo.
100
FARTE LSPANOLA
[596J
wî^^
El Toison de Oro
y
la Légion de honor
por
Juan Pérez
de G u z M A IN .
Nunca cornu
declaracién de
parle de Espafia ;i la
lue m as cordial y ver-
de Napoléon <ï Carlos IV, à
de la Paz, y â la Naciôn espa-
rebozo' : Napoléon, que ténia
espada alcanzaba, en su in-
el ûltimo extremo del pla-
menle pudiera conducir sus
desde la expedicién de Egiplo,
habia adquirido el convenci-
lidad de sus fuerzas, an te el
Inglaterra, el dominio mo-
en todos sus senos, y el
conibate, que era como una
razôn y en el aima del marino
dras comparables à las de
vegaciôn, ni el dominio del
:^i;Vs^
Collar del
Toison de Oro.
después de la
la guerra por
Gran Bretana, en 1804,
dadera la estimaciùn
su gran Minislro el Principe
noia. Hay que decirlo sin
conciencia piena de que su
flujo y en su Victoria, hasta
neta adonde él personal-
e.jcrcitos sobre tierra firme,
desde la derrota de Abukir,
miento profundo de la debi-
inmenso poderio naval de
rai, por esta naciôn, del mar
hàbito y el valor para el
segunda naturaleza en el co-
inglés. Francia no lenia escua-
su rival, ni el genio de la na-
igua, ni el valor de sus nave-
ganles, ni la superioridad y experiencia en los mismos jetés que comandaban
sus barcos. Francia por mar era tan débil como invencible la habia hecho
por tierra el genio de Bonaparte. Y, sin embargo, este sentia la necesidad
imperiosa de sujetarâ Inglaterra, que era la palanca de todos los movimientos
que en el Continente seproducian para obslruir todos sus pensamientos de
dominaciôn uni versai. ; Que dicha hubiera podido ser para él haber cruzado
el Estrecho del Canal de la Mancha, haber abordado por cualquier parte de
su innienso litoral un punto estratégico de sus costas, haberse podido con-
stituirenél con un numeroso ejército,,y haberamagado^' la inviolabilidad del
gran lieino Unido con su nombre, con sus armas y con su misma persona !
Era un pensamiento â la romana, tanto menos realizable, cuanto màs prô-
ximo â su propia frontera el palenque que habia de ofrecersc a tan épica
empresa. Pero si algi'in càlculo de ]trob:ibilidad se le otVecia para intentar
realizarla, solo podia provenir del acto que Espana, su tiel aliada, acaliaba
de ejecutai-. Ue los Estados maritimos del Norte, solo Holanda era para
él una coo|)eraci6n apreciable. La verdadera auxiliar era Espana, que aun
conservaba escuadras numerosas, marinos experimentados, jefes de una
superioridad reconocida y cimentada en la larga tradiciôn de los siglos, y
cuyos hechos aun llenaban de su opinion el àmbito del mundo, por las
1. Franca, sinceramente. — 2. Mandaban.
en dano de otro.
3. Demostrar que se va à ejecutar algo
[597] PARTE KSPAtVOLA 101
empresas repetidas de su valor y de su saber. ; Lâstima que en estas alianzas
hubiera querido tener bajo bi siibordinaciôn de sus jefes, cuva incapacidad
él mâs que nadie conocia, k los jefes de la marina espanola, de quienos, en
sus cartas k su ministro Décret, él mismo pondéré la efectiva superioridad
en que se hallaban, con reiaciôn â lossuyos y â los de todos los dcmâs paîses
maritimes de Europa !
Cuando en 1803, en que la aliaiiza entre Napoléon y Carlos iV' era mâs
firme ^, y va navegaban en escuadras combinadas las naves de sus dos res-
pectivos Estados, por ser sumisos instrumentos de sus mâs intimes proyec-
tos, se le ocurriô la fundaciôn de aquella Orden de estimulo y recompensa,
que él habia de hacer prevaleccr sobre todas las que la RevoUiciôn habia
cxtinguido de la antigua Monar(iuia, la Légion de Honor, para que desde
luego se cquiparara " â las ([ue en Europa existian, dotadas del mâs alto
presligio entre los soberanos, y sobretodo al Toison de Oro de la antigua
casa de Borgona, no solo instruyô de sus pensamientos sobre su creacién,
â su embajador en Madrid, Mr. de Beurnonville, sino que le diô drdenes
para que desde luego negociara con el Principe de la Paz, que, al apareceri^
en eiMoniteur los decretos impériales, inmediatamente se realizara uncambio
de condecoraciones, remitiendo él al iiey de Espana seis grandes cordones,
para el mismo Monarca, el Principe heredero y las demâs personas de la
Real familia espanola en quienes Carlos IV libremente las quisiera distri-
buir, y el Rey de Espana le remitiria â su vez otros seis Toisones de Oro,
uno para él, y los cinco restantes para los individuos de la familia impérial
que Napoléon se sirviera indicar. Aquellas negociaciones, scguidas en la
Corte de Espana, marcharon sin tropiezo ". Los seis grandes cordones de la
Légion de Honor se destinaron al Rey Carlos IV ; al Principe de Asturias,
Don Fernando ; âlos infantes Don Carlos y Don Francisco de Paula Antonio,
bijos del Rey ; al infante Don Antonio Pascual, su hermano, y al Principe
de la Paz, Don Manuel de Godoy, sn ministro. Los Toisones de Oro, con-
forme à las declaraciones del gran canciller del Imperio, Lacépède, y del
ministro de Relaciones extranjeras, Talleyrand, al embajador de Espaùa,
Prmcipe de Masserano, se distribuyeron en esta forma : uno para S. M. I.
y R. ^ el Emperador de los Franceses y rey de Italia, Napoléon 1 ; y uno,
respectivamente, para sns hermanos el principe José, gran elector, y el
principe Luis, contestable y coronel gênerai de carabineros impériales ; para
sus cufiados, el serenisimo Félix Racciochi, senador y principe de Luca y
Piombino, y el principe Camilo Borghesse, y, por ûUimo, uno también para
el cardenal Fesch, arzobispo de Lyon, gran limosnero del Emperador y
ministro plenipotenciario de S. M. LyR. cerca de la Santa Sede. Aunque Mr.
de Talleyrand hizo los imposibles â fin de obtener la recomendacion del
emperador para que para él se discerniera un séptinio Toison, â cambio de
otro cordon de la Légion de Honor para qiiien el rey Carlos IV lo propu-
sier-a, ni el emperador vino nunca en ello, ni mucho menos en Espana el
Principe delà Paz, con quien Talleyrand sostenia frecuente corresponden-
cia epislolar, y de quien lo solicité con viva istancia ^ repetidas veces. La
ampliacion asi del cordon de la Légion de Honor, como del Toison de Oro,
se bizo poi' nuevas negociaciones dictadas por el emperador ; pero el cordon
fué para el infante Don Luis de Parnia, rey de Etruria, y el Toison para el
Gran Duque de Berg y de Cleves, Principe Murât.
El decreto que para la concesion de los seis primeros Toisones firme
y publiée el rey Carlos IV, con fecha de Aranjuez â 18 de Junio de 1805,
decia asi :
« Con el plausible motivo de la exaltacion de Napoléon 1 â los tronos île Francia y
de italia, y en atencion â los estrechos enlaces de buena amistad y alianza que me unen
4. Fuerte, sôlida. — S. Igualara. — 6. Publicarse. — 7. Sin diûcultad. — 8. Su
Majestad impérial y Real. — 9. Insistencia.
102 partk f.sPA.>0LA [598j
con S. M. el Kmperador de los Franceses y rey de Italia ; y teniendo ademâs présente
que S. M. Impérial y Real ha fiindado en Franria iina Leqiôn de Honor, cuyas Grandes
bandas ô insignias esiân fijada-; por los Estatutos al numéro de sesenta, de las
cuales ha tenido à bien ofrecerme seis para mi y para mi Real Familia, sin que
por esto se quebranten '" dichos Estatudos ; y, por iiltimo, reflexionando que es propio
de mi sincera amistad corresponder â las ofertas de S. M. el Emperador y Rny, mi
Poderoso Aliado, en el cambio reciproco de seis coUares de mi Insigne Orden del
Toison de Oro, cuyo numéro esta también fijado à cincuenta y uno, sin que por esto
padezcan infraccion los Estatutos de dicha Orden ; Deolaro y ordeno que se ol'rezcan
de mi parte y por medio de mi Emhajador en Paris seis collares de mi Insigne Orden
del Toison de Oro ;i S. M. el Emperador y Rey Napoléon I, para si y su familia, en
recompensa de las seis grandes bandas de la l^egiôn de Honor que me ha ofrecido
igualmente para mî y mi Real Familia. Declaro ademàs y ordeno que en consecuencia de
este cambio de las Grandes Insignias de ambas Naciones aliadas, fundadas en unos
mismos é idénticos principios, S. M. el Emperador de los Franceses y Rey de Italia,
como también las personas â quienes ha de condecorar con los otros cinco collares
del Toison de Oro, ocuparàn en la lista de dicha Orden, aquel lugar que les corres-
ponda segûn la fecha de su admisiôn y por el orden de su antigiiedad, en \irtud de la
costumbre y de los Reglamentos de la Orden, y sin que este cambio pueda perjudicar,
ni causar detrimento alguno al numéro de los extremos fijados por los Estatutos : que
asi es mi voluntad y Real resolucion, como también que esto se enlienda ser sin ejem-
plar por esta sola vez à causa de tan plausii)le motivo, y sin que de esto pueda dedu-
cirse consecuencia en lo sucesivo. Tendréislo entendido para su cumplimiento. —
(Rubricado de la lieal Mano de S. M.) En Aranjuez a 18 de Junio de 1S05. — A Don
Palîlo Nicolas de San Pedro «. {Conduira.)
10. Alteren.
Las Vacas.
Brillante con el brille de la vida.
De asta ' pequefia y de pezuna brève,
De piel con la blancura de la nieve
Y libre como iina f'uente dividida,
Va â una cadena de métal prendida -
La res histrosa donde el Sol luz llueve,
Y arrastra al hombre cuyo paso mueve,
Retozando de todo sorprendida.
Muge, brinca \ saciide la cabeza ;
La espléndida salud, que es su belleza,
Muestra en el ancho lomo y cuello altivo.
Y cuando cesa, de jugar cansada^
Mansa, énorme, paciente y reposada,
j Parece andando un monumento vivo !
Salvador Rueda.
1. Cuerno. — 2. Sujela. — 3. Salta.
La muerte de un héroe *.
Pero ^: donde estaba ? Todas las miradas volaban de vagôn en vagôn,
y tan llenas de ansiedad las de Mania, que a cada segundo creîa des-
mayarse. j Oh, Dios del cielo, cuân locamente latia su coraz()n ! Un
* Véanse las otras cuatro partes.
[599J PAKTE KSHAiSOI.A 103
hombre abriô la portezuela de un vagôn ante el cual precisamente esta-
ban Leschko y su hija. Con intinito esfuerzo, vacilaïUe y pàlido como
un muerto, apoyândose en el brazo de un empleado amable. Miguel se
apeô del vagon y se encontrô junto a Mania. Si las sombras no hubiesen
sido tan densas, si la ùnica lâmpara de petroleo de la estaciôn hubiese
sido algo niejor, seguramente Mania le hubiera reconocido ; pero apenas
le mir(>. Cuando con voz baja y timida Miguel pronunciô su nombre,
ella se extremeciô y sacudida por un caloi'ri'o de espanto, tijo los ojos en
el desgraciado invâlido. Y luego, dando un grito terrible, — j Miguel! —
se desplomô inerte antes que su padre, âquien el horror habia paralizado
los brazos, hubiese podido hacer un niovimiento para sostenerla.
Los otros, al oir el grito de terror de la joven, corrieron hacia ella. V
todos callaron. No se oyo mâs que el ruido de la locomotora y los
crugidos de las ruedas. . .
Y cuando este ruido se hubo desvanecido, en la estaciôn reino calma de
cementerio, reinû un silencio que parti'a los corazones.
Nadie se movia, y al fin, el viejo Leschko, irritado, exclamô :
— Psia kreiv ! ;. Estais helados, buenas gentes, 6 es que el rayo os ha
petriticado ? Ayudadme â llevar â mi hija hasta el coche.
Sin replicar palabra, algunos hombres levantaron â la joven que segufa
tendida rigida en el pavimento, y la llevaron hasta el carruaje. Y otros,
hombres y mujeres, se alejaron uniéndose al grupo.
No tardô en oirse el galope de un caballito y el ruido de las ruedas de
labrischka.
En la estaciôn seguia reinando el mismo silencio. silencio de niuerte.
De pronto un grito lo rompiô, y esegrito penetrô en todos los corazones,
cual hoja helada.
Era Miguel Lobicki que sollozaba, ; oh, Virgen llena de gracia ! que
sollozaba horriblemente, como iinicamente pueden soUozar los hombres.
Entonces ocurri() una cosa extrana. Gaspar Garowicz, cuya voz apenas
seconocia,seacercôalpobre lisiado y con los ojosllenosdelâgrimasledijo:
— Miguel, mi cuiiado querido, tû ères un gran héroe y tan cierto como
necesito la ayuda de Dios, te digo que te quiero. Bienvenido seas.
Y abrazando à Miguel le besô en las mejillas.
Repentinamente los demâs recobraron el uso de la palabra, se pusieron
â gritar, y de nuevo se oyeron los hurras y los vivas en honor del que
volvîa .
Sollozando, Katia le saltô al cuello y le dijo :
— Miguel, hermano mio, te quiero, tan cierto como soy buena cristiana
y anhelo la eterna salvaciôn. Yen j oh héroe amado !
Miguel, moviendo tristemente la cabeza, respondiô en voz baja :
— i Sufro tanto, sufro tanto al andar, querida Katia ! ^ Has traido tu
birlocho ?
No, no le habia traido, se le habia olvidado, no habia ninguno alli, y
la aldea, para una pobre pierna de palo poco acostumbrada todavia â
moverse, estaba lejos.
Uno de los jôvenes tuvo una idea que entusiasm(j a los demas :
— Llevaremos â nuestro héroe en triunfo hasta la aldea, — dijo. —
Psia krew, nosotros somos patriotas y buenos cristianos.
— Si que lo somos, ; por mi vida ! — exclamô Katia, — aunque haya
algunos que no loseau.
104 PARTE ESPANOLA [600]
Esta restricciôn se dirigfa al viejo Leschko y a su hija.
Miguel se resistia tristcmente.
— Os lo ruego, — nuirmuraba suplicaute, — no lo hagâis : os lo ruego,
Pero todo fué en vano : dos mocetones solidosy robustos se lo pusieron
en hombros y echaron â andar. El invâlido, para no gritar, se mordia los
labios hasta hacerse saltar sangre, pues el camino era malo, y cuando los
que le llevaban tropezaban ô cambiaban el paso, ô andaban demasiado
de prisa, â Miguel le doli'an todos los miembros. Y esos ligeros accidentes
se prodncian â cada minuto.
El héroe lloraba en silencio, pero los que andaban delante ô detras no
lo advertian . . .
1 La noche era tan densa ! , . .
Friederich Werner van Oestéren.
iCo ne luira.
Traducci()n del aleniân.
Curiosidades.
Una nueva Locoxnotora.
La secciôn de transportes mecanicos del departamento de la Guerra
inglés lleva bastante tiempo practicando ensayos de una mâquina que da
resultados extraordinarios. Se trata de una locomotora para carreteras,
que con la mayor faciiidad y à toda la velocidad atraviesa los terrenos
quebrados', salva los fososy transporta los grandes canones â las posi-
ciones mâs elevadas por las mâs escarpadas^ pendientes. Es una mâquina
de cilindrosgemelos, decombustiôn interna y esta provistadeochoruedas
que giran sobre una cadena sin fin, en la cual van lijos 32 anchos dientes.
Los ensayos se han verilicado con el mayor secreto y nadie, iuera de los
inventores y luncionarios, conocian nada de este invento antes de este
dia.
Tortuga gigantesca.
Se trata de una tortuga que vive en la Isla Mauricio, (}ue se dice cono-
cen perfectamente los habitantes de Port-Louis, y que segùn todas las
probabilidades, debe de tener mâs de doscientos cuarenta anos.
La historia de esta respetable tortuga es la siguiente :
La cogieron en las Seychelles en 1796, con cuatro compaûeras, y fué
transportada con ellasâ Mauricio. Las cinco tortugas gigantes vivieron
tranquilamente hasta 1883, en que dos de ellas fueron adquiridas por el
Jardin Zoolûgico de Londres. Poco tiempo después de su Uegadaâ Europa,
sucumbieron al cambio de clima. La tercera tuvo mâs suerte, pues se
aclimatô perfectamente.
Quedaron las otrasdos restantes en Port-Louis, y una de ellas la Grosse
Marion, se quedo ciega y la sirve de hospital el cuartel de Artilleria. Su
coucha mide cerca de un métro en b'nea recta, taniafio que tenia ya en
1800. Se crée que era ya centenaria en el momento de su captura, y de
eîlo hace ciento doce anos.
1. TorUioso. — 2. De iicceso dificil y peligroso.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 14.
20 Avril 1908.
8» Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
El Atrio de Santa Maria de Caspe.
Recientemente ha sido declarado monumento nacional el atrio de la
iglesia parroquial de la histôrica ciudad de Caspe, habiéndose fundado la
Real Academia
de Bellas Artes
de San Fernan-
do para acor-
darlo ' asi, en
lacircunstancia
de avalorar el
mérite artistico
del mencionado
atrio y de la
iglesia la im-
portancia de los
recuerdos que
informan el ca-
râcter monu-
mental de di-
chas obras ar-
quitectônicas, dificilmente borrables de la historia espaiîola.
Frente a la puerta que da acceso al atrio, se levante el estrado desde el
que se hizo saber al pueblo la declaracién de derecho votada por los
compromisarios de los Estados de la Gorona de Aragon â favor de Don
Fernando, infante de Gastilla, llamado el de Antequera, ycuyaproclama-
cion como monarca de aquel reino tuvo efecto en junio de 1412. Al
siguiente dîa predicô en la iglesia Fray Vicente de Ferrer, que como es
sabido, tomô parte activisima y decisiva en las sesiones del iamoso
Compromiso.
Fuera de esta nota saliente, Caspe tiene en sus anales detalles dignos
de la gran importancia que para la historia patria alcanzd.
Al conquistar el rey Don Alfonso 11 la histôrica ciudad, en 1169, la
donô à los caballerosde San Juan de Jérusalem, en 1193, agradecido a los
servicios militares de aquella aguerrida - orden.
Cuéntase que en 1096, cuando el sitio de Huesca, y con motivo de le
batalla de Alcaraz, Caspe tomô gran fama en la région, por la bizarria y
valor quedesplegarauntercio^ de hijos de aquella, intervenciônquerealzô
El ati-io de Santa Maria de Caspe. (Del natural.)
1. Decidirlo. — 2. Ejercitada en la guerra. — 3. Regimiento.
[81]
KSPAG. 14
106 PARTE KSPANOLA [642j
el hecho de haberse encontrado frente â las lineas por aquellos defen-
didas, los cadâveres de 1res reyes enemigos.
Esto hizo que el rey Don Pedro 1 premiara sus servicios concediendo â
Gaspe el ti'tulo de villa y las denominaciones de nobilisima, tîdeli'sima y
antiquîsima, autorizâiidola para usar en armas las barras de Aragon, las
très cabezas coronadas de sus monarcas aragoneses y otros privilegios.
Muertoel rey de Aragon Don Martin, se celebraron las Gortes générales,
en 1412, siendo el lugar escogido la iglesia cuyo atrio acaba de ser decla-
rado monumento nacional.
En I6i6 se concedio â la ciudad de Gaspe voto en Gortes, también
como preniio â sus lieroicos servicios â los reyes, siendo Felipe IV el que
hizo tal honor â la antigua villa, que en lo antiguo forniô un recinto
dentro del cual se contaban, en tiempos de los romanos y aun de los
sarracenos, diez grupos de poblaciôn que se llamaron Truvia, (después
Truves), Mirapex, Monfort, Soladiella, Gastelfollit, Banos, Ghacon, Alca-
lau, Palermo y la Tallada, conservândose aun resto de ellos. En el dia,
figura con 10.300 aimas.
Antano *, Gaspe reducia el casco ^ de su poblaciôn al pequeno espacio
que hoy se conoce con el nombre de « La Muela », que, â guisa de centi-
nela, forma un promontorio aislado del actual caserfo. Esto hace créer
que la plaza fuera, en aquellos tiempos, inexpugnable fortaleza, dada su
excelente posiciôn estratégica y los restos de muralla que rode(') al antiguo
Gaspe.
El atrio de la iglesia no es como monumento pagina grandiosa de la
arquitectura patria. Seguramente su valor en este sentido fué aminorado
por las obras en él realizadas en los siglos XVI y XVII, demostrândolo asi
el poco saliente de su fâbrica, de su traza gênerai y de su ornato.
En el pôrlico, formado por série de hornacinas (en muchas f'altan imâ-
genes) se notan huellas del valor arti'stico que la fâbrica tuviera. Lo
de mas dice â cien léguas la mano de los artifices que lo reformaron, lleva-
dos del deseo de dar solidez â lo que seguramente el tiempo convirtiô en
ruinas.
E. Sedano.
4. Kn tiempo antiguo. — 5. Recinto.
Fundaciôn de Santa Fe.
El incendio de los reaies alento por el pronto los ànimos de la ciudad :
y aun se difundiô la voz de que los cristianos se disponian â levantar el
campo, no pudiendo permanecer en aquellas llanuras, expuestos à los rayos
abrasadores del sol, ni menos aguardar S sin reparo ni defensa, â que des-
cargase sus iras el invierno.
Como llegasen estas voces â oidos de la Reina, tomô al punto una de aque-
llas resoluciones quesiempre le dictaba su corazôn magnânimo « Han ardido
las tiendas, porque eran de lienzo y de enramadas ; el mejor modo de que
no vuelvan â arder es labrarlas de piedra... » Quedàronse todos pasmados ^,
ai oir las palabras de la Reina y el tono grave y resuelto con que las pronun-
ciô. « Desde manana mismo (afiadio aquella esclarecida princesa) han de
1. Esperar. — 2. Asombrados, sorprendidos.
[643] PARTE ESPANOLA 107
empezar â abrirse los cimientos de una ciudad, levantada en este mismo
sitio, trente por frente de Granada, para recordarle â todas horas su irrévo-
cable destino. »
Ensalzaron todos â porfia tan noble pensamiento, dispuestos â hacer los mâs
costosos sacriticios para llevarle à cabo. Los prelados, los grandes, los prin-
cipales caballeros, los que venian capitaneando las gentes de las comunidades,
presentâronse â la Reina, para ofrecerle sus vidas y haciendas : rogândole câ
una voz que, pues que de ella habia nacido aquel gcneroso designio, se perpe-
tuase su memoria, dando â la ciudad que iba â labrarse^ el nombre de Isa-
bela...
« Tanto no (interrumpiô la modesta princesa, encendida como una grana
de color del rostro) : pues que por la Fe combatimos, y por la Fe triunfa-
mos, démos â la nueva poblacién el nombre de Santa Fe... ^, Cabe^ en el
mundo ninguno tan glorioso ? »
La piedad de la Reina, â la par = ardiente y sincora, era el aima de todas
sus acciones, dândoles cierto brillo y realce que excitaba la admiraciôn y
gênerai aplauso. No bien se supo supropôsito, y se repitieron de boca en boca
aquellas palabras, resonô en todo el campo una voz de alabanza ; y los sol-
dados pedian azadas y herramientas para abrir los cimientos de la ciudad y
levantar sus muros.
El dia destinado para el acto solemne de asentar^ la primera piedra,
extendiose en la llanura la numerosa hueste, con lucientes galas y vistosos
arreos ; en el centro se alzô una tienda magnifica en la cual se veian repeti-
das y enlazadas como siempre las iniciales de ambos monarcas y su glorioso
emblema, el yugo y las fléchas, ondeando en la cima el pendôn real con
sus castillos y leones.
Habiase levantado en aquel sitio un altar sencillo adornado con olorosas
yerbas y flores del campo ; y en su promedio se hallaba colocada una cruz
que tenian en suma veneraciôn los soldados, como traida de la Tierra Santa,
cuya piadosa reliquia se ofrece todavia a la veneraciôn de los fieles.
En aquel ara'', que recordaba los primitives tiempos, se ceiebrô el incru-
ento sacriflcio, para pedir ante todas cosas la bendiciôn del cielo. El gran
cardenal de Espana, asistido de insignes prelados, levante en sus manos la
Hostia Santa, inclinada la trente de los poderosos monarcas, arrodillados en
el polvo los grandes de la tierra, latiendo el corazôn con temor religioso â
sesenta mil combatientes, capaces de conquistar un mundo... El estruendo
de la artilleria aniinciô â muchas léguas â la redonda aquel acto solemne ; y
los muros de la Alhambra se estremecieron, prôximos ya â desplomarse,
al escuchar el recio^ estampido que repitiô por los montes el eco.
Terminada la augusta cereraonia, diô el vénérable prelado la bendiciôn â
la hueste ; y al son de las mùsicas acordadas y ondeando por los aires una
nube de purisimoincienso, asentô con sus sagradas manos la primera piedra ;
levantando los ojos al cielo y diciendo en alta voz, cual inspirado prot'eta :
« I Las pnertas del infierno no pfevaleceràn conlra ella ! »
Acercdse después la piadosa Reina, y asentô la segunda piedra no sin
timidez y encogimiento, tan conmovida estaba ; y lo mismo hizo el rey D.
Fernando, si bien con marcial desembarazo ; resonando en todo el campo
repetidos vivas y aclamaciones, al ver â entrambos lados del vénérable
pontifice â aquellos insignes monarcas.
Al dia siguiente, sin mâs demora ni tardanza, se Irazô el asiento y estruc-
tura de la ciudad : la forma cuadrada, con dos anchas calles en cruz y en el
promedio una plaza : â cada uno de los vientos una puerta principal ; y todo
el âmbito ceâido de foso y muro, para ponerla â cubierto de los enemigos.
Tan pronto se levante aquella mole de piedra, que parecia cosa de milagro ;
3. Construirse. — 4. Puede darse. — 5. A la vez. — 6. Colocar. — 7. Altar. —
8. Fuerte.
108 PARTE ESPANOLA [644]
lo? moros no volvian de su admiraciôn y sorpresa. Veian nacer un piieblo,
cual si saliese de debajo de tierra : maravillabanse un dia, y al siguiente se
maravillaban aûn màs, acercândose â veces hasla la mitad del llano, y rehu-
sando dar crédito à sus mismos ojos.
Para apresurar la comenzada obra, excitando el favor y celo de las princi-
pales ciudades y villas de Andalucia, dispuso la prudente Reina que cada
uno tomase â su cargo labrar una parte de la ciudad ; con lo cual se excitô
tan noble emulaciôn entre allas, que â cornpetencia se esforzaban en dar
cima y remate â la empresa. Un colmenar parecia aquel recinto ; mâs
espesos y afanados los soldados y trabajadores que suele verse en el campo
â las solicitas abejas.
Asi no es maravilla que apareciese labrada la ciudad fuerte y hermosa, en
el término^ de dos meses : siendo tal el abatimiento y desmayo que se
apoderô de los habitantes de Granada, al contemplar de cerca los muros
fronterizos, cual si viesen estampada en ellos (como alla en un festin
famoso'") su terrible sentencia.
MABTiNEZ DE LA ROSA.
9. Plazo. — 10. El historiador alude al festin de Baltazar.
Las hojas.
La hoja del ârbol.
El mismo sol (|ue la esmaltô de verde
La abrasa en los ardores del cstio ;
Siayerciiiû diadema de roci'o,
Hoy diadema, color y vida pierde.
Despojo os del gusano que la inuerde
Y el cierzo ' que la empuja â su albedrio ;
Sumerjida en el fango ô en el rio,
^ Quién habrâ que mafiana la reciierde ?
Hoja, tributo de cariiio tierno
De enamorada y pudica doncella,
En vano contra ti IucIk) el invierno ;
Triunfaste de él, como el olvido de ella,
Y, emblema de lo frâgil y lo eterno,
; Hasta marchita me pareces bel la !
Il
La hoja de espada.
De tu lîistoria me pierdo en el arcano-,
Y mi curiosidad pregunta ansiosa :
(, Fuiste de un héroe el arma victoriosa,
Ô la cuchilla infâme de un tirano ?
^; En defensa del débil y el anciano .
1. Viento. — 2. Secreto.
[645j PARTE BSPANOLA 109
Brillaste, al par que honrada generosa,
0 rara vez desnuda, y siempre ociosa,
Te llevô como adorno un cortesano ?
Hoja, ya por inûtil desechada,
^ Mereces el respeto ô el olvido ?
Ennoblecida, rota, ôprofanada,
^ Que fin tendra tu acero corroi'do ?
Yo no lo se; pero naciste espada,
j Que no concluyas en punal te pido !
III
La hoja del libro.
Faro de eterna luz, j bendito seas !
Y j bendita tu magia seductora !
Como difunde claridad la aurora
Vas difundiendo porel mundo ideas.
Cuando no nos ilustras nos recréas,
Guardas cuanto en la vida se évapora,
Y del genio inmortal debeladora %
Con el fulgor del genio centelleas.
i Hoja, place me ver tu lozania !
Fuiste de mis encantos el primero,
Y aun hallo en ti ensenanza y alegria,
Pues tu lenguaje mudo y verdadero
Me habla de amor, de gloria, de poesi'a.. .
j La religion en que morir espero !
Manuel del Palacio.
(De la Real Academia Espanola.)
3. Que debela, rinde.
El Toison de Oro y la Légion de honor.
[Conclusion.)
En otra Real orden, toda escrita de puno y letra del Principe de la Paz el
raismo dia que se publiée este decreto, se le decia al Grefîer de la Orden del
Toison :
<i Por convenio con el Emperador de los Franceses, Rey de Italia, He condecorado
con la insignia del Toison de Oro à cinco principes de su casa ô personas de su
confianza â màs de la del Emperador ; recibiendo yo para igual uso seis collares de la
Légion de Honor ; pero sin que por esto se altère en manera aiguna la Constituciôn de
tan Insigne Orden, ni sus Individuos excedan del numéro précise en ella, pues las seis
gracias dichas deben considerarse como excédante de las numerarias. Tendreisloenten-
dido y lo anotaréis en los libros de vuestro cuidado y oflcio de Grefier de la Orden. »
La conlestaciôn â esta Real Orden, fué la siguiente :
« Excelentiùmo Sefior. — En cumplimiento de la Heal Orden que V. E. " se ha ser-
vido comunicarme en papel de ayer, paso â sus manos los seis collares de la Insigne
ll.Vuecencia,
no PARTE ESPANOLA [646J
Orden del Toison de Oro ; y espero tenga V. E. la bondad de avisarme el recibo de
ellos, para mi gobierno y resguardo del Real Oûcio del Guardajoyas de donde han
salido. Dios guarde â V. E. muchos anos. Aranjuez, 19 de Junio de 1805. — El Marqués
de Montealegre. — Excelenthimo Senor Don Pedro Cevallos. »
En decreto ministerial, de puno de Cevallos, dice al margen : « Estos Toi-
sones se remilirân porextraordinario *-, que saldrâ esta noche, â Masserano,
en Milan, y de no estar alli, k donde se encuenlre, previniéndole qae solicite
sin demora audiencia del Emperador, para entregarie la carta del Rey y
saber que dispone acerca de los sels Toisones »,
Aunqne el correo de gabinete saliô de Madrid la misma noche del 19 de
Junio, Masserano no hizo la entrega en Paris hasta mâs de mediado Julio. El
despacho en que lo comnnicôâ nuestra primera Secretaria de Estado, eslaba
concehido de la manera siguiente :
« Exceleniisimo Sehor . — Muy Senor mio : Conforme dije antes de ayer à V. E.,
por Mordiciasis volvi â esta ciudad desde Turin, con toda la precipitaciôn que me fué
posible, y desde luego escribî â Mr. de Taileyrand pidiéndole instriiyese de ello à
S. M. I. y le pidiese en mi nombre una audiencia particular^ en que yo pudiese entre-
garie la carta confidencial del Rey ^uestro Senor y los seis Toisones que V. E. me
remitiô. Dicha audiencia me fué concedida ayer al medio dîa en el palacio de Saint
Cloud. A mi llegada se puso la guardia sobre las armas, y fui conducido por un
maestro de ceremonias al Salon de Embajadores, adonde después de un corto rato,
vino el Gran Maestre en traje de étiqueta y me condu.jo hasta el gabinete de S. M. (.
precedido de dos ugieres. Llevé conmigo no solo el Toison destinado al Emperador,
sino también los otros cinco, para entregàrselos â fin de que los distribuyese segùn
la cuenta de la carta del Rey Nuestro Sehor. Este Soberano me recibiô en su gabinete
enteramente solo, y con espadin y sombrero bajo el brazo. Le di la carta de S. M.
haciéndole el cumplido que V. E. se sirviô prevenirme, y luego le entregué uno de
los Toisones. No puedo ponderar â V. E. las vivas rauestras de reconocimiento
con que recibiô uno y otro. Me asegurô con el mayor ahinco '^ que apre-
ciaba inûnito este présente de S. M. y aun mâs particularniente el que dejase à
su eleccion distribuciôn de los otros cinco Toisones. Leyô con mucho interés la carta
de S. M. y me dijo después que dejase alli los Toisones, y que me los devolveria en el
dia, con la lista de las personas à quien los destinaba. Me despidiô después volviéndome
â repetir cuanto apreciaba esta atenciôn y aseguràndome que habia dispuesto ya, por
medio del General Beurnonville, se entregasen ahi seis coUares de la Légion de Honor.
Por la tarde, estando comiendo en casa del Ministre Taileyrand, fué â la mîa un
gentilhombre de câmara en un coche de palacio, y no habiéndome hallado '^ en ella,
pasô à la del referido Ministre, y me entregù en nombre de S. M. I., los referidos cinco
Toisones y una nota del mismo Taileyrand, cuya copia incluyo, y por la cual consta
que eran destinados à los principes José, Luis, Bacciochi. Borgesse y al Cardenal Fesch.
Al mismo tiempo el referido Gentilhombre de Camara me entregô en nombre de S. M.
I., una caja de oro con el retrato del Emperador guarnecido de brillantes. Pregunté
al Ministro Taileyrand de que modo los presentaria à los Principes, y me contesté que
à los Principes José, Luis y Borgesse podia yo Uevàrselos, y al Principe de Piombino
que esta en Luca, y al Cardenal Fesch, que esta en Roma, enviàrselos por correo
extraordinario. Kn \ista de esto, escribi à los gentiles hombres de los dos primeros,
para saber el dia y lugar que declinaban, y he sabido que el primero esta en Saint
Çloud, el segundo k tomar los banos de Saint Amand, y el tercero en Versalles : de
modo que ignoro aùn cuando y como se los entregaré. En cuanto al Principe
de Piombino, pienso enviarle un correo, y otro à Roma dirigido a nuestro ministro
alli, con el Toison para el Cardenal Fesch. Pido ;i V. E. que para todos estos sujetos
agraciados se sirva remitirme las cartas de la Cancilleria del Toison que es uso en taies
cases.
« Después de todo esto, he recibido el aviso que original incluyo, del Gran Ganciller
de la Légion de Honor, que esta conforme con el aviso de M. de Taileyrand, y solo
anade que ya él ha comunicado esta gracia à los interesados.
« Habiéndome asegurado que esta noche parte de aqui el correo, que lleva al Sehor
General Beurnonville les collares de la Légion de Honor, despacho apresuradamente
este correo para anticipar à V. E. esta noticia, y repitiéndeme à sus ordenes ruego i
Dios guarde su vida muchos anos. Paris, 25 de Juho de 1805. — Excelentisimo Seiior.
12. Por correo especial. — 13. Eflcacia, empeno. — 14. Encontnidu.
[647J PARTE E8PAN0LA 111
— B. L, M." de V. E. su mâs at» y s s s"— El Principe de Masserano. — Excelenti-
simo Senor Don Pedro CevaUos.y>
Masserano, el 27 de Julio, cotnunicaba à Cevallos que el diaanterior por la
tarde lo recibieron los Principes José y Borgesse, y les entregô los Toisones,
no habiéndolo hecho al Principe Luis por que se hallaba en losbaâos de Saint
Amand ; mientras en Roma, el embajador espaiiol, Vargas Laguna, entregaba
al Cardenal de Fesch el que le correspondla, el 15 de Agosto. El del Principe
Murât no se le expidid hasta el 16 de Agosto de 1806, en que fué firmado por
Carlos IV en el Palacio del Real Sitio de San lldefonso. Al hacer la entrega de
todos estos Toisones, se les advirtié â los agraciados que, « tanto las cajas
como las joyas, eran viejas y usadas, por ser las primitivas que se labraron
en el origen de la instituciôn». Ningunode estos Toisones fuéjamâsdevuelto
â Espana.
En el expediente original de estos Toisones hay una nota que dice : «Los
decretos definitivos no se extendieron hasta que llegaron las insignias de la
Légion de Honor. »
Juan Pérez de Guzmâw.
— 15. Besa LaMano. — 16. Atento y seguro servidor.
La muerte de un héroe (*).
[Conclusion.)
Los mozos dejaron su carga an te la casita de Kasper Garowicz, y algu-
nos le dijeron :
— Miguel, duerme tus fatigas hoy, que manana, en el parador, festeja-
mos tu regreso.
— Si, y nos lo con taras todo.
— Allî estarâ toda la aldea, — gritaron todos.
El invalide cruzo el umbral cojeando y entré en casa de su cunado.
Fuera, todavia se oia gritar :
— I Viva el héroe ! j Viva Miguel ! j Viva ! j Que todos los santos del
cielo le protejan !
Y luego reinô el silencio.
— i Tienes hambre, Miguel ? — le preguntô Katia.
Y Miguel, meneando la cabeza, respondié :
— No, querida hermana, pero estoy cansado, muy cansado.
— Tal vez séria mejor que se fuese â acostar, — observé tlmidamente
Kasper Katia meneô la cabeza; habi'aenniudecidorepentinamente. Luego
acompailo â su hermano â la habitacioncita que habia ocupado en otros
tiempos.
— Descansa, — le dijo. y duerme bien. — Y se fué en seguida como si
tuviese miedo de estar ôon él, y ni siquiera se le ocurriô ayudarle para
que se desnudase.
Peroel viajerono pensaba en desnudarse. Sin quitarse siquiera la pierna
de palo, se echô en la cama, tal como estaba, hundiô la cara en las mu-
llidas almohadas de pluma que habian amontonado alli en su honor, y asi
ahogô los soilozos que extremecian todo su cuerpo. Y gimiendodecia :
— \ Mania ! j Mania !
*Véanse las otras cuatro partes.
112 PARTE E8PAN0LA [648J
Eso duré largo rato. Luego Miguel se incorporé al oir la chillona voz
de su hermana que en la contigua habitaciôn decia :
— Kasper, tii ères un imbécil, el imbécil mas grande que he conocido.
I Un honor ! Dices que es un honor, pues te doy las gracias por ese honor.
^ Te figuras acaso que Irabajarâ en los campos, pedazo de bruto ? ^, Crées
que el invalide podrâ ayudarnos ?. . . De Mania no hay que hablar ; es
una mala pécora, tan cierto como yo soy buena cristiana. Y en cuanto
a Leschko, es un sinvergiienza. Hace un momento me decîa ella que no
aceptaba ese horrible regalo, yél que no queria mantener una boca in util.
l Comprendes, imbécil ? Yahora nosotros tendremos que darle de corner,
aunque no pueda hacer nada y tal vez viva cien aiîos. Y yo te pregunto
i, por que ? Naturalmente, nunca he pensado dejarle morir de hambre,
pues es mi hermano, y soy buena cristiana y amo a Dios. Pero pretender
que es honor, pedazo de borrico, por que es un héroe, es una estupidez
sin igual, ya me entiendes. Y ahora, vête à acostar.
Miguel en pie, oia todo esto sin moverse, petriticado. Su palidez daba
miedo, pero ni uno solo de sus mùsculos se conlrajo, ni uno solo de sus
miembros se extremeciô. Y' segui'a de pie como si esperase algo mâs. Paso
una hora sin que hiciese el menor movimiento. Parecia una estatua. De
pronto empezô â gémir, bajo, muy bajito.
Una puerta de su habitaciôn se abrîa fuera de la casa. Miguel, cojeando,
la empujô y salio.
Yâ la manana siguiente se encontre al cuerpo del héroe en el estanque
de la aldea, y en su pecho brillaba la cruz de los valientes.
Friederich Werner van Oestéren.
(Traduccion del alemân.)
Flores.
Todo en la vida es flor : las oraciones
De la bendita fe son azucenas ;
Lirios son las angustias y las penas,
Y claveies los rojos corazones.
Rosas son las fugaces ' ilusiones;
Jazmin el sueno de las ninas buenas,
Y magnolias y nardos y verbenas,
Los placeres, lasgloriasyambiciones.
La gratitud es pobre trinitaria
Que las miradas de la gente esquiva;
El recuerdo, la humilde pasionaria.
La esperanza, la débil sensitiv^a,
Y modesta, sencilla y solitaria
La madré, con su amor, j essiempreviva !
M. R. Blanco Belmonte.
1. De muy corta duraciôn : que huyen con rapidez.
Les Cinq Langues
N' 15. 5 Mai 1908. 8» Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
Entra Gonzalo de Côrdoba en Granada.
Pasaron dias y dias sin recibirse nuevas • de Hernando de Zafra y sin
saberse siquiera su paradero; siendo tal lainquietud de la Reina doua Isabel,
que ni podia conciliar el siieâo ni hallar en parte alguna paz ni descanso.
Para mayor torcedor - y angustia, no dejaba escapar de sus labios ni iina
sola palabra, por no afligir à su esposo, reconviniéndose â si propia aqnella
bondadosa princesa por haber expucsto la vida de tan leal caballero. Por
mâs conjeluras que hacia, no podia atinar ^ con la causa de tanextrano siien-
cio, y cada vez se afirmaba mâs y mâs en la opinion de qne liabia muerto à
m an os traidoras.
En esta situaciôn se encontraba la Reina ciiando se le présenté un dia
Gonzalo de Côrdoba, ya casi restablecido de su herida, y con la resoluciôn
que le era tan propia, le dijo : « Hernando de Zafra no vuelve, y yo senora,
ofreci ir en su busca. Déme V. M. licencia para desempenar mi palabra ».
Atônifa se qnedo la princesa al oir tan airevida resoluciôn, y con gravedad y
templada dulztira hizo présente al caudillo que, ciialquiera que hubiese sido
la sucrte de su fiel secretario, no era cosa de aventurar la vida de un capitân
tan esforzado. « Dios abrirâ camino, Gonzalo, sin que lii te expongas : que
harto caro nie cuesta el haber sido una vez sobradaniente dôcil. »
Llegô en esto el rey Don Fernando, y reiterô Gonzalo sus si'iplicas é ins-
tancias : nadie podia lener tanto influjo como él en la voluntad de Boabdil ;
habiale prestado mâs de un seûalado servicio, y no era probable que se atrc-
viera aquel principe â destruir la imica tabla de salvamento en que pudiera
librarse del naut'ragio.
Era tal la persiiasiva * del caudillo y tan grande la confianza con que ha-
blaba, que poco â poco fué ganandoel ànimo de los reyes, y al despedirse
de ellos los dejô casi convencidos.
Tornô-' al dia siguiente, insistiendo con mâs ahinco que la vez primera, y
como se esforzase por alcanzar el consentimiento de la Reina, callô esta por
algunos momentos, y levantando los ojos al cielo, murmurô : « Uios sabe lo
que me cuesta este sacrificio, pero haz, Gonzalo, lo que tu noble corazôn te
dictara ».
Apenas lo oyo el caudillo, regraciô ^' à los principes, cual si le hubiesen otor-
gado la merced mas cumplida ; y sin perder momento saliô de la estancia para
hacer los aprestos necesarios.
Contaba para el logro de su emprcsa con la lealtad de un adalid', â quien
raia consigo desde el principio de la gucrra : habiéndolc dado libcrtad muy
luego y cautivado su voluntad con el buen trato y generosos dones. Manifes-
tôle lisay llanamente su propôsito, y para niostrarle mayor contianza, conte-,
rencio con él acerca del mejor medio de Uevarlo â cabo.
No bien hubo cerrado la noche, cuando salieron de los reaies, disfrazado
1. Noticias. — 2. Tormento. — 3. Acertar. — 4. Persuasion. - S. Volviô. -
6. Diô gracias.— 7. Guia.
[87] RSPAG. 1>6
114 PARTE ESPANOLA |692j
Gonzalo cou hâbito franciscano, sin màs armas ni defensa que un fino alfange
de Damasco ; y se encaminaron por un largo rodeo al caslillo de Churriana,
ciiyo alcaide estaba ganado por los Reyes Gatolicos, segùn habemos dicho.
Alli permaneciô, expuesto â mil azares y peligros por el término de très
dias, al cabo de los cuales volvio el adalid, cual lo habia prometido, dispues-
tas ya las cosas de manera que pudiese Gonzalo permanecer oculto en Granada.
Poco antes de romper el alba**, se encaminaron à la ciudad para aprovechar
la ocasion en qne los labradores y hortelanos se agolpasen â las puertas, a fin
de poner a salvo sus frutos y vituallas de las correrias de los cristianos.
Entraron entre la muchedumbre, sin que nadie reparase' en ellos y cru-
zando el puenteGenil, se encaminaron à la casaque habia dispuesto el afecto
moro, no lejos del cerro de. Alburnet, llamado después Campo del Principe, à
causa de una grave desventura. La calle en que fueron a parar era de las màs
escondidas de aquel barrio en que vivia mucha gente pobre y menesterosa ;
y la vieja que los hospedô, tia del adalid, estuvo lejos de sospechar â quien
ténia en su aposento, y liasta creyô buenamente que era un enviado del rey
deTremecén, que venia de oculto à Granada para levantar los ânimos en la
ciudad, en caso que Boabdil el Desventuradillo, intentase en mal hora abrir
las puertas à los infieles.
Tan sereno estaba Gonzalo en aquella situaciôn peligrosa, que era cosa de
oir sus coloquios con la buena vieja sobre acbaque '° de moros y cristianos,
solazândose " â veces en oir maldecir su propio nombre, refiriéndose â los
tiempos en que estaba en el Albaioin y la Alcazaba ; mas sin descuidar el
objeto ([uc alli le traia, escribiô secretamente à Aben Coinixa, rogàndole «[ue
dispusiese el modo y forma de que pudiese hablai- con el rey.
Al saber el valido que Gonzalo se hallaba en Granada, quedôse tan mara-
villado, que leyô dos o très veces la carta sin dar fe y crédite â sus ojos.
Pues si tal fué la extraneza que mostro e) privado, no hay para que decir la
que mostro el débil monarca. Al oirlo, inmutôsele el rostro sin acertarcon
las palabras ; y encareciendo lo que le doliael grave riesgo que corria Gonzalo,
dejaba traslucir en sus palabras que aùn mâs temia por si propio, si luese
descubierto.
Un dia entero permanaciô indeciso, sin atreverse à tomar resoluclôn nin-
guna ; veia peligro de que el caudillo cristiano pernianeciese en Granada, lo
veia igualmente en que lornase à los reaies ; ni osaba vcrle ni despedirle :
ni queria la paz ni la guerra, pero como el valido conocia la condicion del
principe, dejôlo forcejar consigo mismo, cual suele hacerse con ima res
herida de muerte, seguro de que al cabo se rendiria de puro cansancio, y
vendria â postrarse â sus plantas.
« Haz lo que quieras, » dijo al cabo el débil monarca, y como advirtiese
que Aben Comixa se aprestase â irse (temiendo que Boabdil se arrepintiese),
repitiôle al salir por dos veces : « Cuenta que no le expongas y teexpongas.
Ya ves que pudiera traernos muchas desventuras. »
A la noche siguiente fué un alcaide, en quien tenui el valido toda su con-
lianza, en busca de Gonzalo, y después de mostrarle su propia carta como
sena y fianza, rogole que le siguiese, segiin le habian ordenado. Despidiose
Gonzalo de su huéspeda, haciéndola rico présente, tal que la vieja lloraba
de alegria, y al adalid también se le saltaron las làgrimas al separarse de su
buen sefior y al calcular los peligros que iba à correr solo y desamparado.
Con semblante sereno y paso firme siguiô Gonzalo al misterioso guia, y
subiendo por la ladera del monte, se encaminaron hacia el Cerro de Abahul,
dejândolo â mano derecha.
Creyô Gonzalo que le lle\ aban à la Alhambra, pero al llogar à uno de los
caminos que conducen â aquella fortaleza, bizo ;ilto el moro, y se escondieron
en un recodo que forma el cerro, tan poblado de corpulentos ârboles, que ni
8. Amanecer. - 9. Se fijase. — 10. Asunto ô materia. — H. Divirtiéndoâe.
[693] PARTE BSPANOLA H 5
de cUa penetraba alli la vista. A poco oyeron un agiulo silbido, y después de
algunos momentos sintieron como ruido de pasos de alguien que se acer-
caba. La nochc estaba obscura, que ni se veian los dodos de la mano, y la
espesnra del bosque y el rumor del viento en las ramas, aumentaban la tris-
teza y el pavor '^ de aifuel sitio, célèbre desde tiempos remotos '-^ por haber
dado margen â mil fabulas y consejas.
Martinez de la Rosa.
{Conduira.)
12. Temor y sobresalto. — 13. Lejanos.
Los chambergos de Squilace.
I
Hablaban los dos personajes en aquel salon orientado â poniente desde
cuyos balcones se descnbrian las crestas del Guadarrama y los encinares del
Pardo, leyendo el que estaba de pie, con acento de respeto un bando que oia
en siiencio el otro interlocutor, sentado ante una mesa escritorio de nogal
con relieve de bronce.
Ambos eran entrados en edad, afeitados â uso de la época y cubierta su
cabeza por la obra magna de la mas intrincada y rizadisima peluoa blanca
que puede imaginarse, vistiendo los dos el bolgado casacôn de profusos
bordados, que dejaba asomar en el lector bajo el faldôn izquierdo, la empu-
nadura y la contera de un espadin.
El rostro del lector, agudo y de tinas facciones, se animaba segûn su len-
gua iba soltando pârrafos, y de cuando en cuando ciavaba uno ojillos,
menudos y sagaces', en su seîïor, en el que cualquiera hubiera adivinado en
seguida, y si no alli estaba la grande y picuda^ nariz que le delataba, la bor-
bônica majestad de Carlos III.
Alguna vez diriase que la realeza se aburria, dejando de escuchar, porque
su mirada se ciavaba en los frescos del techo ô en los cuadros de los muros ,
pasando â la barricada de papeles de su mesa y concluyendo por echar à
volar por el balcon, como un pâjaro doméstico que huye, yendo â posarse
en aquellos sus queridos y obscuros cotos llamândole desde lejos àsatisfacer
su cada vez mâs ardiente pasiôn por la caza.
AI cabo concluyô la lectura, preguntando el que leia:
— ^.Y que, senor, escucha V. M. el bando?
— i Quién lo duda ! — replicô el monarca.
— i Es una vergiienza lo que sucede ! — anadirj el lector ; — estamos medio
siglo, y me quedo corto, atrasados del resto de Europa, y yo no quiero ima-
ginarme lo que pensarân los extranjeros, viendo en nuestras calles esos
énormes sombreros como plazas de toros y esas capas que truecan à sus
habitantes en fantasmas y que no dejan al descubierto mâs que un espadon
de malasiete ^. Es preciso cortar todo eso, los sombreros y las capas, y se
cortarân.
— Ten cuidado, Squilace; U\, como buen siciliano, te tienes por sagaz y
lo ères, perono sabes todavia lo qu son los madrilenos. Acuérdate de lo que
han resistido al saneamiento de la villa, tan beneficioso para elles.
— Lo recuerdo, seiior, como recuerdo la ingeniosa frase de V. M. de que
sus sûbditos son como los ninos, que lloran cuando se les lava.
— Pues ahora que se ataca â sus costumbres tradicionales, no lloraràn,
sino que se pondrân furiosos.
1. Pénétrantes. — 2. En forma de pico. — 3. Valentôn.
116 PARTB ESPANOLA [694J
— Seiïor, para eso tiene V. M. biien numéro de corcbetes y un excelente
alcalde corregidor, y en lodo caso, para esto eslân los guardias valonas*.
— i Iliiin! i\o me giista h mi mezclar al ejército en cuestiones de policia,
ni â él tampoco le agrada, pero en fin, no qiiiero que créas que te ato las
manos. Pega el bando en las esquinas y veremos para lo que aprovecha.
— Créame V. M., senor ; un poco de ruido en los barrios bajos y punto
concluido.
— Me alegraré que aciéries.
Y al deciresto, el rey comenzô â revolver sus papeles como indicando que
estaba concluido el acto, con lo que Squilace se guardô el pliego en los
abismos de su casacôn, exclainando â la vez :
— Entonces, si V. M. me da su venia, me retiro para mandar ahora mismo
que impriman el bando en la imprenta real.
— Anda con Dios, buen Squilace, y hazme el favor de ver, al salir de la
anlecàmara, si esta esperando, como le prévins, el montero mayor, para que
ullimemos una tirada de gamos en Riofrio, à la que desde luego quedas
invitado por derecho proprio, como una de nuestras mejores escopetas.
— Senor, — repuso Squilace inclinândose, — V. M. me abruma con sus
elogiosy susbondades, pero en materia de escopetas, todas tienen que dejar
el sitio â la de V. M.
Y haciendo una profunda reverencia saliô el ministro del salon sin volver
la espalda, como la étiqueta requeria,
II.
No ya un motin popular que se refréna con unos cuantos palos de lafuerza
pûblica, sino una verdadera y formidable revolucion fué la que se armé en
Madrid en aquella tarde del domingo de Ramos, en que aun flotaban en el
aire las parliculas del incienso de las Iglesias y lodavia se veian, en las rejas
de sus atrios, las rubias palmas de la funciôn de por la maiiana ; dia santo,
que iba à contemplar de nuevo muchedumbres, no vitoreando de regocijo,
sino aullando de rabia ante el palacio de Squilace, apedreando sus fachadas
hasta no dejar un cristal ileso" y tratando de prender fuego â las puertas.
Pero el cauto ministro, à la sazôn ausente, que no las ténia todas consigo,
habia hecho acudir la guardia valona, que recibida A pedradas hubo de con-
testar â tiros, dispersando por el momenlo â las turbas. Y alla se encanii-
naban estas â palacio, revueltos bombres y mujeres, blandiendo los hen-eros
sus martillos y sus cuchillas los zapateros, tizonafien mano la hidalgueria
ramplona y sin otras armas las comadres que su lengua, que vomitaba inju-
rias entre alaridos'' ensordecedores.
No llevaban estandartes los amotinados, pero â guisa de taies, como para
significar que nada les doblegaria, enarbolaban los sombreros de anchas
alas, y no se cruzaba con las lurbas transeunte alguno al que no se le obli-
gara â besar, como si de cosa sagrada se tratase, los malbadados chambergos,
de tal manera apoderados del corazôn del pueblo. Y pobre del guardia valona
descarriado, que acertaba à tropezarse con la ola bumana, pues al punto era
sacrificado sin piedad, sin que le valiera la intervcnciôn de cualquier pela-
fustân menos sanguinario.
El toque del rosario, cayendo de los campanarios de las Iglesias, bizo des-
cubrirse todas las cabezas, pero no serenô ios ânimos y la ira popular con-
tinué fermentando toda la noche, una noche de tiros en las tinieblas, de
gritos é imprecaciones, de espanto, que los redoblados ccntinelas del regio
alcâzar oian desde sus garitas de piedra.
A las très de la tarde siguiente, la plaza de Armas de Palacio era un oleaje
de mar tempestuosa ; no se veia el suelo del inmenso aglomeramiento de la
4. Asi llamados por su procedencia. — 3. Entero. — 6. Espadon. — 7. Gritos.
•6951 iARTE ESTAISOLA 117
muchedumbre, y los soldados permanecian inactivos y fusil al brazo de orden
superior, afortunadamente dada por algûn espiritu sereno, que de otra
manera hubiera sido arrasada sin piedad la regia morada.
El grito era unanime, un vocerlo salvaje : « ; Que se asome el Reyl, i que
se asome el Rey ! »
Y el monarca se asomô al tin, rodeado de sus altos dignatarios, teniendo
prôximos â los duques de Arcos y de Medinaceli, que por la manana habian
intentado en vano prlamentar con las turbas. Y con serena aunque escasa
voz y muy pâlido, prometiô el buen Carlos cuanto le exigieron : separar ;ï
Squilace, dândole por sucesor â un espanol ; annlar el bando referente â
capas y chambergos; rebajar el precio del pan, del aceite, del jabôn y de la
leche, y otorgar^ por liltimo el perdôn mâs amplio â los amotinados.
— i Ya se lo decia yo â ese terco de Squilace ! — murmuraba el rey al
retirarse del balcon de piedra del salon del Irono ; — (. no sabe todavia lo que
es la gente de Maravillas y de la Ribera de Curtidores'' ?
i Ah ! Pero no esta todo concluido. A média noche un vecino trasnocha-
dor, al dejar un tabernucho del barrio de Santiago, observa algo anormal en
el real palacio, se acerca con cautela "> y ve de lejos entreabrirse el portôn
del Principe y salir un grupo de personas, en las que relucen armas mal
escondidasy que por la rampa de las caballerizas en construccion se enca-
minan en busca del Campo del Moro. Entre los vapores del vino, tiene qui-
zâs aquel hombre el presentimiento de la fuga, y à la maàana siguiente
cuenta lo presenciado en el mercado de San Miguel. Y sûbitamente y sin
saber como, llega de todas partes la gran noticia, la huida de la regia fami-
lia à Aranjuez, con lo que vuelveâ erupcionar el volcan popular, estallando
ahora el motin con mâs violencia que nunca.
Ciérranse todas las puertas ; no se permite salir â nadie de la poblacion ;
apodérase el pueblo de las armas y tambores del parque ; la tropa espaùola
permanece neutral ; vuelven â oirse disparos, bien que sin bala, ensaùân-
dose solo los rebeldes en los cadâveres de los valones muerlos la vispera,
y llegada la noche organizase una formidable comitiva, en que la mujeres
y los chicos enarbolan antorchas y palmas, tomadas en el atrio de las Igle-
sias, rodeando la turba al carromato en que parte para Aranjuez, en calidad
de embajador de los madrilènes y représentante del motm, un cochero de
casa grande, majo y decidor, gran guitarristay bailador de merenderos é ido-
lo de todas las mozas criias de los barrio's bajos, quien lleva el encargo del
pueblo de rogar al rey que vuelva entre sas sùbditos, que le quieren bien,
pero sin el italiano, que se ha hecho odioso por sus acciones, reformas y
gabelas. Y no hubo en Roma emperador que saiiera por la Via Appia en su
carro de bronce, arrastrado por la fogosa cuadriga, mâs ufano y altivo que
el ladino automedonte, que iba â vérselas cara â cara, por primera vez, con
aquel monarca â quien tantas habia conlemplado desde su pescnnle.
III.
Han pasado algunos meses, y el conde de Aranda, de rancia cepa aragonesa
que ha substituido â Squilace, despacha con el monarca en aquel salon orieii-
tado â poniente, desde el balcon del cual se divisan las crestas del Gua-
darrama y los encinares del Pardo.
El rey eslâ jovial, " de buen humor, la vispera ha tenido una monteria
feliz y le espéra para aquella tarde una buena tirada de conejos.
— l. Sabes, conde, — dice el buen Carlos, — que al volver hoy delà Virgen
de la Paloma he observado una cosa ?
— i Vuesti-a Majestad dira !
— Que apenas si se ven por ahi capas y chambergos. Casi todos los que
8. Concéder. — 9. Barrios e\tremos de Madrid. — 10. Sigilo. — 11. Alegre.
118 PARTE ESPANOLA [696J
me he encontrado llevaban, si paisanos, el sombrero de medio queso, y si
militares, el sombrero apuntado. jY eso que me refiero al rifiôn de la gente
del broncelPcro lo mismo lie observado al volver de paseo y siempre que
salgo. Aquellas capas, que eran hâbitos talares, desaparecieron, y aqueilas
alas, que cran paraguas también. \Y no hace tanto liempo que estallô ese
maldito motin que todavia me contrista*-!
— ;¥ que pudo haberse evitado, Senor!
— Tal creo, Aranda.
— Esas cosas no se imponen por la fuerza, Senor; el pueblo es un chi-
quillo que patalea si se le contraria, pero que imita cuanlo ve, y que tiene
también su coqueteria. . . Yo he conseguido que se encuentre feo, y jadios
chambergos y capas!
— ^.Qué me cuentas? iNo os crei yo nunca â los aragoneses tan sutiles!
— Vuestra Majestad nosjuzgaba solo cabezas de piedra y puûos de mârmol.
— jLo confieso!
— jPuescuando nos ponemos â lener chispa ! '^ perdone Vuestra Majes-
tad este rudo lenguaje de soldado, — y el conde de Aranda se incliné con
respeto. — He aqui lo que se ha hecho. Yo he introducido entre los curru-
tacos ''^ esos sombreros de medio queso y he mandado apuntar el sombrero
de los militares. Se han pueslo de modayla niodaha pasado al pueblo, que
sencillamente, se encuentra asi mejor, como el seùorio, contra el que se
revuelve, pero al que en su fuero interne se pirra'- por asemejar. Puede que
hoy estallara un motin por lo contrario, si quisiéramos establecerde nuevo
los sombreros anchos y las capas largas.
— Aranda, — concluycj el rey, — jpor algo ères un filosolo!
Alfonso Ferez Nieva.
12. Kritristece. — 13. Ingenio. — ili. Elégantes. — 15. Se \uelve loco.
Los Hebreos en la Peninsula Ibérica.
Dificii sera abrir la historia'de la peninsula IJDérica, ya civil, va
polîtica, ya religiosa, ora cientifica, ora literariamente considerada, sin
tropezar en cada pagina con algûn hecho ô nombre mémorable relativo
â la naci<')n hebrea, ha ' cei'ca de dos mil afios errante y dispersa en
medio de las demâs generaciones. Las cronicas de los reyes, las historias
de las ciudades y de las drdenes religiosas, tanto militares como conven-
tuales ô monâsticas, los anales de las familias, llenos estân de acaeci-
mientos ^ en que tuvo por largo tiempo el pueblo hebreo parte mâs 6
menos activa y directa. Los C(3digos nacionales, dictados unas veces por
los monarcas, lormados otras por el clero, é inspirados otras porel senti-
miento popular ; los libros ascéticos, ahora escritos por los descendientes
de la raza hispano latina, ahora por los con versos del jndafsmo ; las
obras cienti'ficas, ciiando traidas de extranos lenguajes, cuando realiza-
das, con gioria del nombre espaflol, bajo la [)rotecci(')n de los principes
de Aragon y Castilla, niientras yacian las demâs naciones de Europa en
medio de la barbarie ; las producciones de la amena literatura, debidas,
ya â los cristianos viejos, ya â los que en el transcurso de los siglos
habîan hecho suya !a religion del crucificado, pregonan también con no
1. Hace. — 2. Acontecimientos.
[697J PARTE E8PAN0LA 119
menor fuerza y verdad, la participaciôn que en uno y otro concepto
alcanzô el pueblo proscrite en el desarrollo de la civilizaci()n espafiola.
En historia, en leyes, en obras ascéticas 6 cientificas, en libros de con-
troversia 6 de poesi'a, aparece siempre aquella laboriosa é inteligento
grey ^ dotada de una actividad sorprendente que la hace digna de ser
maduramente estudiada cuando se considéra sobre todo que, ya se
levante à desusada prosperidad, ya sea envuelta en sangrientas perse-
cusiones, jamâs decae en su amor al trabajo ni su celo por la ciencia,
titulos altaniente legitimos, que le conquistan por mucho tiempo la
tolerancia, sino el respeto de sus dominadores.
J. Amador de LOS Kios.
3. Conjunto de individuos de una misma raza 6 naciôn.
La almohada de la condesa Gonfalonieri*.
La condesa Teresa Casati Gonfalonieri habia ido â Yiena con objeto de
obtener la gracia de su marido ^ El dia en que se toniô la fatal décision,
un correo partie â média noche, con la sentencia de muerle. La bonda-
dosa emperatriz envio un chambellan à la condesa, para que le comu-
nicase, por medio de su digno silencio, el intenso dolor de la angelical
soberana por no haber podido alcanzar la gracia. Teresa Goni'alonieri, â
pesar de lo avanzado de la hora, volo en carruaje â palacio ; y la empe-
ratriz, que se habia retirado ya â sus habitaciones, no pudo negarse â
recibirla. La infeliz mujer Ilorô, lloro, y tan irrésistible era su desespera-
ciôn, que la emperatriz, en desorden las ropas, corri(') â la habitacion de
su esposo, y al cabo de un rato, — que para Teresa debiô ser un siglo de
angustia — volviu con la gracia.
Pronto, pronto ; era preciso alcanzar al correo, pues llevaba la sen-
tencia de muerte. Teresa se mete enuncoche, y sin detenerse un momen-
to, pagando à los postillones cuatro 6 seis veces su precio, tomando
algunas bebidas por todo alimento, llegô â Milan à tiempo y Federico
no subiô al patibulo.
Durante el viaje habia descansado apoyando la cabeza en una almo-
hadita que humedeciera con sus lâgrimas ; légrimas ora de angustia
mortal por temor de no llegar â tiempo, ora de esperanza, ora de amor
de esposa.
Este conlidente del momento mas trâgico y mas solemne de la vida de
los dos esposos fué depositado en manos de los jueces que habian conde-
nado â muerte â Federico, los cuales lo remitieron religiosamente al
marido salvado.
Federico se lo llevé consigo d Spielberg, y allî, despojado de sus vesti-
dos, encadenado, durmiendo sobre paja y privado de todas las comodi-
dades, no se separo nunca de su almohadita.
Pietro Maroncelli-.
* Véanse las otras cuatro partes.
1. El conde Federico Gonfalonieri, condenado à muerte, por carbonario, por Austria.
— 2. Companero del coude de Gonfalonieri y de Silvio Pellico, el autor de Mispri-
siones, en las càrceles de Spielberg.
120 PARTE ESPANOLA [698]
Epigrama.
Mostrando ' un duro un impio
Avaro, que Dios confunda,
Dije : — ^ Es de Isabel segunda ?
V contesto : — ; No ! que es mi'o.
J. M. ViLLKBGAS,
1. Ensenando.
Guriosidades.
El decano ' de ios h ombres.
Segi'in el perùjdico Jorodzu Cliohor, de Tokio, existe un honibre, Kosa-
buro Fujimatsu, que naci('> en Yamazasi, en la provincia de Ghikugo,
hace ciento setenta afios. Ha visto las guerras f'eudales de Ios dainiios,
participado en la rebeliôn de ios satsuma y vistO la reconstituciôn del
Imperio. Tienesiete hijos, 18 nietos y 47 biznetos.
La Mariposa. . . végétal.
Ciaroesque este nomi)re sugestivo es un decir-, porque setrata de una
mariposa tan animal y tan insecto como ios restantes lepid()pteros, pero
su aspecto en determinados momentos es tal, que se confunde con las
hojas de las plantas.
Esta mariposa, que existe en las Indias orientales, se parece a todas
sus congénères mientrasestâ volando y luce sus preciosos colores anaran-
jados sobre fondo azul ; pero si se posa sobre un arbusto, os es imposiblc
encontrarla por minnciosa que sea vuestra investigaci()n.
Esto consiste en que la parte inferior de sus alas présenta, en absoUito,
el aspecto de una hoja seca, con su color, sus nervios y sus manchas.
Tiene el animalito, ademàs, el cuidado de tomar unaposiciôn que hace
la ilusiôn compléta; solo se sostiene en la rama por sus patas anteriores,
y su cuerpo desaparece por completo entre sus alas. Ademâs, se coloca
siempre en la parte supei'ior de la rama, es decir, en el sitio en (|ue las
hojas son màses()esas.
J^os indios considérai! â este insecto como un animal sagrado, que tieno
el poder de transl'ormarse sucesivamente en hoja y en mariposa, y cons-
tituye un genio bienhechor d quien invocan .
1. El màs viejo. — 2. Es un modo de liablar.
Les Cinq Langues
N' 16. 20 Mai 1908. 8« Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
Entra Gonzalo de Gôrdoba en Granada.
[Conclusion.)
Como Gonzalo se habia propuesto no hablar ni una sola palabra, por que no
pareciera que cupiese en su ânimo el menor temor à recelo, ni aun pre-
gnntd â donde le llevaban al notar que el primer guia le encomendalja â
otro con profundisimo silencio.
« Sigueme », dijo nieramente ' el recién venido, y cruzando una calle de
ârboles llana y espaciosa, hallâronse al pie de una torre altisima, à cuyo
lado se divisaba confusamente una inmenza mole cenida en derredor de
arbustos y malezas. No sin esfuerzo y fatiga pudieron penetrar en ella, y
apenas llegaron cerca de! torreôn 6 cubo, que cada vez parecia mâs grande,
diô el moro très palmadas, y en el instante mismo oyose rechinar una
puerta de hierro. « Entra », dijo en voz baja el moro, y apenas liubo eutrado,
volviôse â cerrar el rastrillo, cruzando de parte â parte dos pesadas cadenas.
Diôle â Gonzalo un vuelco el corazon, asaltdndole el pensamiento de si
quedaria alli sepultado eu vida, y aun sinliô un grave peso en el aima,
volando su imaginaciôn al castillo de Illora, donde probablemente estaria
durmiendo su mujer, muy ajena del peligro que su esposo corria. En el
propio instante, como tan leal caballero, recordô la penaque tendriala reina
doiia Isabel, si le aconteciese algûn desastre. Después que hubo pagado este
tributo H los nobles sentimientos de su aima, recobrô su screnidad acos-
tumbrada, y solo una vez diô muestras de impaciencia al ver que no hacia
mâs que bajar y bajar, dando mil vueltas y revueltas sin hallar uunca el
fin ni término. Apenas descansaba un instante para tomar aliento, haciale
seùa el moro de que le siguiese ; llegaba â un suelo pendiente, donde ni
aun podia asentar el pie, y se abria una compuerta, dando paso â otra
rampa, aun en mayor déclive que las anteriores. A cada paso sentia rodar
alguna piedra, que bajaba dando botes y rebotes, perdiéndose el confuso eco
en aquellas prot'undidades,como sihubiese ido â parar al centro de la tierra.
Greci'a a la par el destemplado frio ; el aire, grave y pesado, hasta el respirar
embargaba, y la humedad del cavernoso sitio tal, como que nunca habia
penetrado en aquellos abismos la hermosa luzdel dia. Solo algunas aves
nocturnas tenian por alli su albergue, y al verse â la sazôn inquietadas, se
dieron à revolotear por los côncavos techos, con tan agudos chirridos, que
ponian espanto. Momento hubo en que el mismo Gonzalo comenzô â dudar
si séria realidad lo que estaba viendo y tocando, ô bien alguna pesadilla,
atormentada la imaginaciôn con visiones y encantamientos ^ ; mas, de cual-
([uiera suerte, anhelaba salir de aquella inccrtidumbrc y llegar al término
por molesto que fuese. Al cabo se detuvieron en una especie de meseta en
que habia una piedra cuadrada ; y Icvantàndola no sin diticultad el moro,
atô à una argoUa la escala de cuerda (jne al efecto traîa, y bajô detras de
Gonzalo hasta encontrarsc entrambos en un aposento subterraneo.
Apenas puso cl pie en él, quedose sorprendido el capitan cristiano al
1. Sencillamente. —2. Hechizos.
[93 I KSPAG. 16
122 PARTE ESPANOLA [7381
descubrir un hombre recostado en una alcatifa ^ el cual, al verlos llegar,
arrojô un libro que estaha leyendo. Se le vanta, se acerca, da un grito, le
abi'aza, y el mismo Gonzalo no acertaba â créer hasta después de pasados
algunos instantes, que aquel que en sus brazos ténia era su amigo Hernando
de Zafra.
Asi era en realidad ; como â Boabdil noie pareciese bastante ninguna pre-
cauciôn, para ociiltar al nuncio ^ de les Reyes Catôlicos, dispiiso que per-
maneciere oculto en la Torre de los Siete Suelos, separada y distante del pala- *
cio delà Alhambra ; y de tan terrorifico aspecto, que el vulgo solia ■' apar-
tarse de aquel paraje por reputarlo de fatal agiiero.
En aquella triste mansiôn habia permanecido tan leal caballero, privado
de la luz del sol, y sin mâs anhelo y afân que adelantar en su ardua empresa,
ya escribiendù al valide, va viéndolu algiina que otra vez en el sileneio de la
noche y con el mayor recato. Mil pregiintas se hicieron entrambos amigos
apenas se quedaron solos ; y sin podor entregarse al sueûo, enterése Gonzalo
de las causas que habian dado margen â que careciesen por tanto tiempo los
Reyes de noticias de su fiel secrelario.
Fué, pues, el caso, que el confidente Holeilas habia caido gravomente
enfermo, por efecto.sin duda, de la zozobra, vigilias y trabajos que habia pade-
cido para plantear las negociaciones : el moro que le sucediô en el mismo
encargo, tuvo menos destreza 6 peor suerte ; lo cierto os que le sorprendieron
la primera noche camino del real de los cristianos; y fortuna que la carta
que llevaba cstaba en cifra, y no pudieron en (Iranada entenderla. Hubo
si un rumor gênerai de que se trataba en ella de traidores manejos, y aunque
el moro llevô à la huesa « su secreto, por màs que le apremiaion con bâr-
baros tormentos, quedô Boabdil tan acobardado que no habian podido loda-
via convencerlc â que tornase à anudar los comenzados tratos.
Martînez de l* Rosa.
3. Alfombra fina. — 4. Enviado. — 5. Ténia costumbre. — 6. A la tumba.
Dos artistas.
La galeria de cristales, el estudio, como decia con cierto ént'asis Don Fer-
min, juez jubilado ' y pintor infatigable, estaba orientada al Mediodia, sobre
un minùsculo jardin que, cuidado por el viejo, premiaba sus afanes con
abundante provision de flores, sus modclos diariatnente renovados.
El buen senor llamaba â aquello su isla desierta : el planeta acababa para
él en las tapias de su jardin ; tan dichoso en su aislamiento, tan desinterc-
sado de cuanto afana y conmueve al mundo, ([uesus agitaciones le causabau
el asombro y risa que produce el baile visto de lejos, sin que alcance âoirse
el ritmo de la orquesta.
En aquel retiro, sin familia, sin relaciones, su aficidn absorvente consistia
en pintar â todashoras : tablas, caitones, lienzo 6 porcelana le incilabau por
igual : lo mismo disfrazaba con barnices y colores de tibor japonés un tosco
puchero, que decoraba un mueble ô pintaba un banco.
Todo florecia en torno de él : las lunas de los espejos aparecian cubiertas
de rosas y clavclcs, entre cuyos pétales se perseguian mar-iposas gigantescas,
y en el frio mârmol de la chimenea brotaban inverosimiles floraciones. Su
pincel ténia horror al vacio, â lo incoloro y desnudo, y volaba incansablc,
1. Retirado.
[739] PARTE espaSola 123
con presuroso aleteo, sembrando imâgenes sobre la muerta superficie de las
cosas.
La especialidad de Don Fermin eran las flores : gozaba primero al agrupar-
las con arle en viviente cuadro, después en apasionada liicha por arrancar â
aquella realidad luminosa y bella el secreto de su fresca galanura 2, de su
gracia ondulante, de sus matices incopiables.
El ano pasado, aquel Robinsén tuvo de .lunio à Octubre un compaîiero,
estudianle en vacaciones, poeta de dieciocho aûos, otro enamorado como él
del Arte^ encanto de la vida.
Vivia en la vecindad, y le acompanaba todas las tardes, congeniando como
suelen la senectud y la adolescencia, aquella por guslar la frescura y sereni-
dad de la alborada en la existencia que empieza ; esta pidiendo â los recuer-
dos del pasado el secreto del porvenir.
Se bastaban : el mozo era el crilico cuyo tacil aplauso alentaba ^ al pinlor,
quien oia fi su vez con religioso silencio, pero sin dejar de pintar^ tiradasde
versos sonoros.
En los intermedios repasaban todas las revistas ilustradas de la semana,
criticando con bastante acrimonia* versos y paginas de color ; los horizontos
del Arte se les aparecian nebulosos, y deploraban el cûmulo de aptitudes
artisticas que se agostan faltas del riego de la protecciôn inleligente.
Porque buelga el decir que ambos eran artistas por el anior al arte. El
poeta colaboraba gratis en varies periôdicos de provincias, y el pintor,
después de cubrir, aprovechando rincones^ las paredes de su casa con obras
de su pincel, y contribuir con larga mano '^ â todas las rifas « benéficas, no
sabla donde poner tanta cosa.
Pero ambos alentaban un deseo vivisimo, exento de toda idea de lucro :
el de ver cotizados sus productos y recibir la sonante muestra de aceptaciôn,
ûnica sincera entre los vanos apbuisos que prodigan la amistad y la cortesia.
Por tratar de conseguirlo, el anciano liabia puesto â la venta meses atrâs,
en la tienda donde se surtia de marcos y colores, dos tablitas sin firma de
autor. En veinticinco pesetas las justipreciô '', convencido alprincipio de que,
en tan intima suma valoradas^ el pùblico se disputaria sus obras; pero iba
perdiendo ilusiones al coi'rer el tiempo, sobre todo desde queviô conamarga
sorpresa que el pûblico preferia los cromos â sus cuadros.
El poeta habia romitido por consejo del anciano sus mejores versos, los
ûnicos que lograron cautivar al pintor hasta hacerle interrumpir su trabajo
para mejor oirlos, à una revista de la corte, y en su doblc espectativa, comen-
zaban siempi-e su conversaciôn pidiéndose noticias que no tenian trazas ^ de
llegar nunca.
Ames llegaria el fin de las vacaciones, pues mediaba septembre, y el
viejo, mâs endurecido contra el desengaâo, veia con duelo*" que con las pri-
meras hojas caeria también marchita la flor lozana de aquella esperanza
juvenil.
Y condolido del creciente desaliento del mancebo", ideô una estratagema
para disiparlo.
Hecordd que ténia amigos en la fiedaccion de la Revista : j nada mâs
tâcil que valerse de ellos para ser incognito Mecenas de su amigo !
Y en la manana de aquel dia, el poeta recibio un alegrôn inmenso, uno
de esos halagos de la fortuna que hacen al abatido espiritu crecerse animoso
hasta tocar las nubes con la frente. La Revista publicaba su poesia, que le
parecin en letras de molde nueva y embellecida, y para colmo de dichas
acompanaba al numéro una letra'^ de veinticinco pesetas, precio de sus
versos.
2. Gentileza, elegancia. — 3. Animaba. — 4. Acritud. — 5. Generosamente, con
abundancia. — 6.' Loterias, tombolas. — 1. Estiniù su precio. — 8. Tasadas. — 9. Que
no parecian tener que.... — 10. Pesar, tristeza. — 11. Joven. — 12. Un giro.
124 PARTE KSPANOLA |740]
— 1 Veinticinco pesetas ! ; Ya su firma era oro 1 i Ya su nombre pasaba
del nionton aiiénhno de los llamados, al griipo cotizable de los elegi-
dos!.. ..
Su primer impulso fué correr à dar la infausta nueva à Don Fermin.
Luego pensé que su ventiira podia recordar al pintor que snscuadros aguar-
daban, llenândosc de polvo, al inleligenlc que habia de comprenderlos y
.... pagarlos.
Su aima generosa se contristo al pensar en su felicidad no compartida,
y de pronto se le ocurriô una idea que le hizo lanzarse à la calle apresurado
y gozoso.
Cobradas las veinticinco pesetas, se encaminô â la tienda en cuyo escapa-
rate iban quedando cada vez màs arrinconadas las tablitas de Don Fermin.
i El séria el inteligente !
i Bien représenté su papel ! Las contemplé tingiendo asombro, y preguntô
su precio entre exclamaciones de admiraciôn. . . (. Cémo ? ^ Solamente vein-
ticinco pesetas? ; Era de balde!.... ;. Quién era el notable artista ? . . .
etc., etc.
Cuando à la tarde, â la hora acostumbrada, el pintor salie â su encuentro,
un resplandor en los ojos y una auréola de felicidad en el semblante de su
anciano amigo le recompensaron por su buena idea.
— Acabo de pasar por la tienda y no estân las tablas. ^ Hay noYedades?
— i Kstàn vendidas ! — exclamé Don Fermin con modestia triunfante. —
Un joven inteligentisimo las ha adquirido esta maiiana con grandes elogios.
i iNo lodos ban de ser compradores de cromos ! . . . ^. Y usted !
— ; Publicada, Don Fermin !. . . Publicada y ; pagada !. .
— i Bien, magnitico ! Ahora ; adelante !. . .
Celebraron con alegrc gaudeamus'^ las primeras sonrisas del éxito, y con-
vinieron de comûn acuerdo en que los horizontes del arte no eraii tan
negros como auguraban los pesimistas.
Después se pusieron â trabajar como de costumbi-e ; pero los versos sono-
ros tenian alas de llama, y las flores pintadas entreabrian sus corolas, aspi-
rando la suave caricia de una arura primaveral.
Juan Air/ADUN.
13. Comida.
Las Golondrinas.
I
Cuando mueren las floi-es y el sol se nubla ;
Cuando al pie de los ârboles ruodan sus hojas,
iMarchitas va ;
Cuando todo esta seco y el cielo es triste . .
En busca de otro cielo las golondrinas
Marchando van.
Cuando nacen las flores y el sol mâs brilla ;
Cuando el ârbol cubiei-lo de vcrdes hojas
Se vuelve â ver ;
Cuando es bella la vida y alegre el cielo . .
En busca de su nido las golondrinas
Vuelven también.
[741J PARTE ESPAPiOLA 125
II
La golondrina aimncia la primavera ;
Si un |)unto' de su nido cruel invierno
La arrebatu,
Vuelve luego amorosa, cruzando mares,
En busca de aquel nido de sus mayores,
Donde nacié.
Siempre vuelve à su nido, todos los anos ;
Alli nacio su madré, también sus hijos
Nacen alli ;
Y si el hambre 6 el tieaipo su vida hicrcn,
i También ai mismo nido la golondrina
Vicnc à morir ! . . .
III
i Ay de aquel que, arrastrado por los placeres,
A la leliz morada de las virtudes
No vuelve mâs !
i Dichoso el que, olvidado de las pasiones,
Para morir en calma y arrepentido
Vuelve â su hogar ;
Ricardo Sepûlveda.
1. Un instante.
Très Monumentos nacionales.
I
Para todo madrileno castizo, la igleslUa de San Antonio de la Florida
es evocaciôn de un Madrid ya desaparecido, que se distinguiô, por sus
costumbres, fiestas y gentes, entre las cortes todas de Europa durante
mâs de un siglo . Erigida en sitio dedicado al esparcimienlo ^ de los reyes,
pror)to queda fuera de la posesi(3n regia, juntamente con las alamedasde
la Florida ; y en los buenos tiempos del buen rey nuestro sefior Don Car-
los 1(1, pudo ya el pueblo gozar por entero de las delicias que leofrecian
las sombreadas orillasdel Manzanares, â partir de la ermita del Santo de
Padua y de las lindes del camino del Real Sitio del Pardo.
Silenciosas las estancias del Palacio del Buen Retiro, cerrados â las
liestas sus jardines desde los dîas de Felipe IV, puesto que ya después, tan
solo â largos intervalos iba la Gorte à la residencia favori ta del Rey que
inmortalizcj Velâzquez, los dranias é idilios que celaron las espesuras de
los jardines del Palacio de San Juan y las no menos espesas sombras de
los ârboles del prado de San Jenmimo, buscaron en las alamedas de la
Florida lugar acomodado -. AJli tuvo la corte de Carlos IV especial mente,
fondo lindisimo para sus diversiones, y el pueblo ocasiôn de imponer
sus gustos é incUiso sus costumbres y modas â la sociedad toda. Majas y
damas, comediantas y sencillas mujeres, titulos y grandes, niajos y tore-
1. Recreo. — 2. A propôsito, adecuado.
126
PARTE ESPANOLA
7421
ros, componiaitla multitud que merendaba en el soto de Migas calientes,
jugaba â la gallina ciega, rasgueaba la guitarra y bailaba seguidillas
sobre capa de pano rojo de Béjar, se acuchillaba y se agolpaba en la
ermita del santo casamentero ^ en los di'as de su roineria.
De aquellos tiempos, de aquellas escenas, de aquella sociedad, fueron
testigos la iglesita neo-
clàsica declarada monu-
mento nacional, y dos c>
très doeenas de olmos de
troncos ya carcomidos,
pero de copa frondosa,
que milagrosamente es-
caparon al hacha civil i-
zadora. xMas no hubiera
sido bastante el mérito
de recordarnos los espar-
ci mientos de los Pepe-
JJiilo y Ciichares^, de los
Gampomanes y Jovella-
nos, de la Timna vMai-
quez ■', de las Duquesas
de Alba y de las Marquesas de Lazân y de las Gondesas de Montijo, de
majas y majos, si el genio de Goya, tomando por pretexto la apoteosis
del Santo paduano, no hubiese inmortalizado â sus contemporâneos en
la ciipula, lunetos y muros de la iglesita.
Iglesia de San Antonio de la Florida.
Nada mas armonioso, nada inâs brillante al propio tiempo, nada mas
lleno de vida real, nada menos mistico que estas pinluras decorativas de
la iglesilla de San Antonio de la Florida. El temple, pues al tem[)leestân
hechas, tiene alli vigor de ôleo. Las fuerzas de lastonalidades, la elegan-
cia de las figuras, parecen de Velâzquez, de Reynolds y de Van-Dyck.
Pero oid, oid lo que dice el sabio biôgralb y critico cspanol Don Zeferino
Araujo :
« Représenta en la média naranja '■ â San Antonio resucitando â un
muerto. Guando el artista hizo este trabajo, el paseo de moda era el de
la Florida ; asî es que con aquella impresionabilidad que demostnj en
todas sus obras, no hizo otra cosa al concebir y realizar su idea, (jue
reproducir los grupos de senoras, majas y chi(|uillos, hombres y mujeres
del pueblo que encontraba al paso, destacândose sobre el Ibndo de los
montes del Guadarrama. Supongamos que un dia se puso en el paseo un
pobre medio desnudo â pedir limosna, y que el hambre le ocasion() una
congoja ; pasa un fraile y se acerca â socorrerle ; alguna senora y mujeres
caritativas se aproximan compadecidas del lance, al paso (jue otras per-
sonas, (j indiferentes (') inadvertidas del suceso, se asoman â una baran-
dilla para ver lo que pasa en otra parte, â los muchachos que juegan y
se encaraman en ella : asi esta desenvuelto el asunto. Los ojos de una
picaresca morena, con la cara medio cubierta con una mantilla blanca,
3. En Espafia, San Antonio es el abogado de Jos malrimonios.
SOS. — o. Cômicos de gran reputaciôn. — 6. Cùiiula.
4. Toreros famo-
i743J PAKTE ESPANOLA 127
que os mira desde un balciui ; la saya^ roja de su veciiia, que déjà eiUre-
ver ol delicado tobillo ; el pilluelo (|ue gatea ensenando el faldon de la
camisa ; la animaci()n toda, todo el bullicio de una romevi'a es lo que os
llamarâ la atenciôn.... »
Anadamos a esta escena las figuras femeniiias de las pechinas, arcos de
las capillitas y lunetos, que son trasunto, en mi juicio (el seùor Araujo lo
niega sin fundamento solide), de bellezas contemporâneas de! artista, y
se convendrâ en lo alirmado mas arriba, de que la apoteosis del santo
taumaturgo, es mas bien de la sociedad y de las gentes de los dias del
génial artista. Porque, aquellos ângeles femeninos, visten faldas de gasa
y fajas de colores brillantes, y monos y lazos que cinen de modo sujes-
tivo las môrbidas redondeces de sus cuerpos admirables.
Yo creo que es ùnica en el mundo del arte esta pintura mural. Y es
ûnica, porque ademâs de no haber visto en Europa pintura deesegénero,
mas brillante, mas f'resca, mas franca en la factura, tan franca que raya
en lo inverosi'mil, tampoco le lie encontrado pareja en la fuerza de la
vida de las iiguras y en la naturalidad de la composici('»n.
(Continuarâ.) H. de la Vega.
1. Falda.
Goethe*.
Lo que distingue a Goethe â los ojos de los lectores ingleses y
franceses, es una cualidad que comparte con su naciôn : la costumbre de
reportarse â la verdad interior. En Inglaterra y en America, se estima el
talento ; y, cuando se pone al servicio de intereses 6 de partidos reconoci-
dos cuya existencia es comprensible, 6 cuando se luclia contra ellos
regularmente, el piiblico se déclara satisfecho. En Francia, la satisfac-
ciôn que por si misma procura la manifestaciun de brillantes facultades
intelectuales, es mâs grande todavi'a, y, en todosestos paîses, se encuentran
hombres de talento que escriben porque tienen talento. Basta que la inte-
ligencia se ocupe, que el gusto se satisfaga, que determinado numéro de
paginas 6 determinado numéro de horas se puedan llenar de modo con-
veniente. El ingenio alemân no tiene la vivacidad francesa, el delicado
senlido prâcLico de los ingleses ni el espîritu aventurero de los ameri-
canos, pero esta dotado de probidad que nunca se detiene ante exteriori-
dades y por esto al llegar à la ejecuciun pregunta siempre : ^ Con que
fin"^. El pûblico alemân reclama la supremacîa de la sinceridad. He ahi
una idea activa, pero i que es lo que se propone ? ^ Que es lo que ese
hombre nos quieredecir? ^, De donde proceden todos esos pensamientos
y cuâl puede ser su origen ?
El talento solo no basta para caracterizar al escritor. Preciso es que
detrâs del libro se encuentre un hombre, una personalidad que, por su
nacimiento y su carâcter esté empapada de las doctrinas que expone,
que exista para ver y representar las cosas de tal manera y no de
otra, uniéndose a ellas por ellas mismas.
(*) Véanse las otras cuatro partes.
128 PARTE ESPANOLA [744]
Si hoy no piiede expresarse de manera conveniente, los inismos
objetos subsisten y se le revelaran manana. Enorme carga pesa sol)re su
aima : la carga de la verdad que debe proclamar, la liaya comprendido
poco 6 rnuclîo. Sutarea y su vocaciôn en este raundo consisten en com-
prender las cosas y darlas a conocer. Poco importa que tropiece, que
tartajeé, que su voz sea ruda 6 aguda, que su método 6 sus medios no
sean suticientes. Aun cuando el mensajero fuese mudo, el mensaje
hablaria por él. Pero si no es asi, si el verbo de Dios no vive en ese
hombre, i,qué puede importarnos que sea babil, discreto y brillante?
{Continuarâ .)
Emerson .
(Traduccion del inglés.)
Pensamiento.
Bana el rocîo en la estival ' aurora
El câliz de la llor,
Mas ella nunca sabe (|uién le envia
Gonsuelo y salvaciûn.
Cuando el llanto que brota de mis ojos
Alivia - mi dolor,
Gual rocîo del aima le bendigo.
j Se que viene de Dios !
E. S. de Gastm.la,
\. Uol \erano. — 2. Tranquiliza, sosiega.
Curiosidades.
Los Periôdicos.
De ima curiosaestadistica de la Prensa periédica, résulta que se publi-
can en Europa y America los diarios siguientes :
Alemania, Ti îiOU : Italia, :'> 300; Francia, 1 819; Inglaterra, 2 500: Austria
Hungrîa, 1 200 ; lUisia, 800 ; Suiza, 450, y Estados Unidos, 50 000.
Medicamento caro.
Se habiaabandonado por su excesivo coste la cura de orocn la terapéu-
tica ; pero parece que ahora vuelve à emplearse. El cloruro de oro se
conceptûa ' como un buen remedio contra el alcoholismo inveterado y
taml)ién se le aplica para el tratamiento del reumatismo y de la tubercu-
losis, y el bromuro de oro se aplica a la medicaci(')n de la epilepsia y del
cancer.
\. Coiisiiiera.
Les Cinq Langues
N' 17.
5 Jain 1908.
8" Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
Très Monumentos nacionales.
II
Alla en el centro de Aragon, sobre cresta ciiasi ' inaccesible de montana
llena de roeas, âlzase una vasta ruina que fué castillo, alcâzar y residencia
religiosa â un tiempo.
Loarre se llama la villita (') pueblo que da nombre al castillo. De los
* )»vt"
Castillo de Loarre.
tiempos de la fundacion de Loarre no se tiene memoria, y por lo tante,
menos se tiene de modo cierto, de la primera fortaleza â que substituyô
el castillo, declarado recientemente monumento nacional. Guenta, sin
embargo, la tradici()n, maga encantadora queconvierte en poesi'a cuanto
toca, que anles de la invasion sarracena, existi'a en aquel lugar, solitario
y aduslo % otro castillo erigido-^ por los visigodos sobre una atalaya
romana, y que allf encerraron los vencedores al conde Don Juliân pre-
miando de este modo la pertidia de una traiciôn que les hiciera duenos
de la peninsula. Quiere la leyenda que allî muriese el padre de la Cuva,
entregado â sus remordimientos, mas la historia ha venido â echar por
tierra el cuento patriotico forjado por el desprecio popular.
i. Casi. — 2. Agreste. — 3. Construido, ediflcado.
[99]
KSPAG. n
130 PARTE ESPANOLA [786]
Data el actnal castillo de los iiltimos anos del siglo XI, y segùn los
arqiieiWogos que lo han visitado, y por las fotografi'as que el cronista
tiene delaute, se comprueba que es ol>ra roniânico-bizantina, construida
por Don Sancho Rauiirez.
El papel (\ue este inonumento de triple carâcter desempefiô en la his-
toria, fué insignilicante. Ni grandes asedios % ni dranias, bien familiares,
bien de carâcter politico, nisiquiera el recuerdo de iina de esas prisiones
de reyes 6 princesas, que la ainbici()n 6 el crimen decretaba en los siglos
medios. Nada. ïan S(')lo una lapida recuerda que alli f'eneciô 'susdi'asun
llamado Tulgas. Hic requiesclt famulus Dei Tulgas qui ohiit pridie hais.
Decembris in era MCXXXIU . Qui legerit islas lileras oret parem.
Sin embargo, recordemos que la historia de nuestra patria esta por rec-
tificar en gran parle, y en su casi totalidad, para anudar los eslabones en
la de la Edad Media, (juizâ a este castillo de Loarre, vinieran los ecos de
la lucha entablada por los Sanchos Hamirez de Aragc'tn, Navarra y Castilla,
y que acaso en él se acogiera el fratricida de Penalém antes de liuir â
Zaragoza. Un sal(>n liay en la parte del alcâzar que le llaman todavia
Salon de ta Reina. ^Quion sabe la historia de amor 6 de làgrimas que
ira aneja *^ a ese dictado ?
Pero si. por lo (jue atane ^ à la historia, el castillo de Loarre no ha
merecido hasta ahora que se registre en los anales de la de Espana, en
cainbio, por su grandeza y por lo singular de su arquitectura, puede
tenérsele como joya inapreciable.
Sol)re los muros macizos y belicosos, — dice Don Pedro de Madrazo —
resalta el abside sacerdotal, sostenidopor altisitnas columnitas y dividido
horizontalniente por cornisas de tablero, y sus dos lilas de ventanas
semicirculares, con cilindricas molduras y labrados capiteles, brillan
entre los variados ajimeces y primorosas aspilleras irregularmente distri-
buidas, sobresaliendo de entre las cuadradas torres de losângulos y de la
elevadisima del homenaje, la ochavada ciipula, cual niinistro del Eterno
entre guerreros
Rodea en su niayor parte el castillo y la cùspide del monte, una cerca
de desmoronados - torreones, circulares en su mayori'a. Dos de estos to-
rreones guardan la entrada, y otro, cuadrado por fuera, y octogono en el
interior, permanece aislado al pie de gigantesco abside, que abarcando
très capillas sobrepuestas, tiene por aquel lado la elevaciôn de una cate-
dral. Sobre la puerta hay un ventanillo de dos arcos en herradura, y un
relieve con toscas liguras.
Es este torre(5n acceso à unaiglesia semiovalada de bôveda baja, y deco-
rada en derredor por arcos bizantinos que semejan una galeria ; une los
labrados capiteles una corn i sa, y otra, esculpida en i'orma de tablero,
corre sobre los arcos. A esta iglesia ô capilla, (|ue en los tiempos de la
Edad Media servi'a al humilde pueblo de Loarre como parro([uia, conduce
una escalera de doble rampa, (pie cubre alla y sombria biWeda, y en su
arco principal campea un relieve con varias liguras, una de ellas la del
Salvador, con esta inscripciôn : Fons ego sum vilx.
Desemboca ^ la escalera en una galeria que en lo alto, y abierta entre
las penas, lleva a la otra iglesia, en laactualidad olrendada â Santa Maria
de Valverde. Anuncian los primores de su decorativa, los lindos capiteles
4. Sitios. — 5. Goncluyô (muriô). — 6. Uiiida. — 7. Se reûere. — «. Que se han
deshecho y arruinado insensiblemente. — 9. Da.
[787] PARTE ESPANOLA 131
del arco de la puerta. En el interior vese la elevada nave cargando sobre
grandes arcos latérales ; las siitiles coliimnas siguen hasta la ciipula, sos-
tenida por cnalro pechinas. En la parte baja del abside, fsemicircular^
corre en derredor una bella galen'a de pequenos arcos, cuvas columnas
ol'recen el mas variado tipo de bizantinos capiteles, en sus entrelazados
cordones, en sus graciosos l'ollajes, en sus caprichosas figuras de hombres
y animales, rivalizando entre eilos la ejecucion y la inventiva. Sobre la
cornisa que corona estos arcos, descansan ventanas de mâs ancha aber-
tura y separadas por mayor espacio ; dichas ventanas hallanse tapiadas.
En mayor ruina hâllase el castillo propiamente dicho ; pero, sin
embargo, à través del laberinto de obscuros pasadizos, de escalcras rui-
nosas, puedeformarse cabal juicio'" de su grandeza. Portodas partes arcos
sin bôvedas y ventanas sin estancia ; mas â pesar de eso, todavia se
admira mas de un sal(»n abovedado, y desde sus ajimeces i)izantinos
explâyase la mirada, contemplaiido â vistade pâjaro un paisaje extenso y
delicioso.
El castillo de Loarrc puede servir de tipo genérico de los alcdzares del
(eudalismo, y dificilmente se encontrarâ otro ninguno que, alcanzando
tal longevidad. ofrezca mas compléta armoni'a entre sus construcciones,
la época y el estilo arqnitectônico.
{Co7icluii'â).
B. de la Vega.
10. Idea exacta.
Meditaciones.
Si en medio del esplendor sereno del dia 6 de las sombras pacilicas de
la noche alzamos losojos al cielo, donde esta la patria del cristianismo, y
los fijamos después en la tierra, lugar de su peregrinacion, sentiremos
en el aima que la tierra y el cielo nos revelan con lenguaje mudo, mas '
de céleste energi'a, la existencia de un Dios bueno, pr<)vido, misericor-
dioso, de un Dios padre de los hombres.
Esas estrellas ([ue lucen sobre nuestra trente ; esas tlores que admira-
mos â nuestros pies; esos arroyos que alegran con sus murmullos â la
tierra ; ese roci'o que la refresca ; esa lluvia que enriiiuece sus entrafias ;
ese mar azul, es|)ejo magni'lico del cielo, (jue, asf como un esposo, cine â
la tierra coronada de tlores con brazos resplandecientes ; ese sol (yae,
imagen de Dios, alumbra y vivitica ; esa dulce y sagrada luna que baiia
con rayos ti'midos al mundo adormido y tenebroso, como una lâmpara
que brilla en un templo solitario, como una esperanza que sonri'e, conso-
landoen medio de una profunda aflicciôn... todo, todo nos révéla conlen-
guajemudo, mas de céleste energi'a, la existencia de un Dios bueno, pru-
vido, misericordioso, de un Dios padre de los hombres.
El universo es su templo : el corazûn del hombre, su altar.
1. Pero.
132 PARTE ESPANOLA 17881
;, Pero quién es este Dios, cuya existencia las dores caando se entrea-
bren aruincian, proclama el marcuando ruje, y diceâ millares de mundos
el sol cuando los ilumina? Abrid y leed les Evangelios, y lo hallaréis -
escrito con caractères de amor. . .
Un hombre, hombre a los ojos de los hombres, pero Dios a los ojos de
Dios, nace en un pesebre para ennoblecer a la pobreza, vive entre mise-
ria para santilicar la desgracia, permite reclinar sobre su seno la frente de
un aniigo para liacer sagrada la amistad, y, enclavado en una cruz, y
delante de un mundo para quien era virtud la venganza, pide al Padre
que perdone a sus verdugos.
Este Hombre Dios llamâbase en el mundo Jesucristo.
Cuando apareciô en él, la tierra adoraba â unos diosos peores que los
hombres. Tiberio forzabaal mundo âque le hartase ' de su servidumbre ;
la fatalidad era la Providencia de los gentiles, la esclavitud su derecho
comùn ; tenian ellos por recreo el derramamiento de sangre, por crimen
à la desgracia, por ignominia à la pobreza.
Bossuet, el ilustre Bossuet, ese grau orador, grau poeta, gran tihisolo,
el cual, segûn hablabade las cosas divinas, no parece sino que habia asis-
tido â los consejos del Eterno, y segûn el divino lenguaje (|ue usaba, que
habia escuchado la voz de losangeles, encarecia una vez, con voz verda-
deramente de angel, la bondad y las grandezas de Dios. Y después de
haberla encarecido, cual ingenio humano jamâs lo ha hecho, prorrum-
più en este rasgo, en sus labios, ;i la verdad, altamente sublime : « Perdo-
nad, Senor ; son los hombres los que hablan. »
Nosotros, pues, sûlo diremos que si existe algun hombre que al leer y
meditar las palabras tan dulccs, tan inefables, tan divinatnente hermosas
como las de Jesucristo, no sienle que, enternecido su coraz(>n, se mueve
por amor y admiraciôn à adorar al Dios de la naturaleza en el Dios del
Evangelio, si ese hombre existe, repetimos, es un hombre. . . verdadera-
mente desgraciado.
Antonio Apapisi y GuuARno.
2. Encontraréis. — 3. Saciase.
La Opinion pùblica.
1
En el casino, mfsero ' local ocupado por cuatro mesas desvencijadas
de tresillo^ y una de billar, sobre cuyo pafio verdoso y remendado rodaban
fragorosamente las bolas, comentaban los notables de Villasombril la
inesperaba marcha â la Corte de don Primitivo Corneja, secretario del
Avuntamiento.
1. Muy pobre. — 2. .liiego del hombre.
[789] PAKTE ESPANOLA 133
Ningiino atinaba cou la raz()n que pudo impulsai' a su contertiilio â
realizar tal viaje : en a(piel pngiiato, [)ropio de coniadres, cada ciial aven-
tiiraba las liip(')tesis mas absiirdas para explicarlo.
Languideci'a la disciision cuando acert() â entrar en la sala de jtiego
D. Roniualdo, alcalde y cacicpie mâximode Villasombril.
Anunci(') que venia de la estaci()n de despedir al pobre Primitivo, su
amigo del aima.
El mas acuciado^ por el deseo de curiosear vidas ajenas le preguntc» :
— ^ Y se sabe â que bueno va a los Madriles el secretai'io ?. . .
Otro de los contertulios, que se las daba de ser un Demôstenes, agregô :
— j Por Dios, D. Roraualdo, sâquenos usted de la horrorosa incer-
tidumbre en que nos ha puesto la hui'da del insigne y met(')dico senor de
la Gorneja ! Aquf todos henios echado ya nuestro cuarto a espadas en el
asunto, y de nada nos ha servido, porque ahora estamoscomo al principio
de nuestra informaci(')n : en la ignorancia raâs absolutaacerca del motivo,
causa ('> raz(')n à la que es debido viaje tan sorprendente. Usted (pie es
l'ntimo del sehor de la Gorneja y superior jerâr<juico suyo, debe saber, es
decir, sabe usted seguramente el ponpié abandona nuestro amigo las
dulzuras del hogar, si fi'io por ser el de un solteivjn, confortable por tra-
tarse de un sibarita tan acieditado como D. Primitivo, que nunca ha
hecho viajes que duren arriba de una hora, y eso a lomos de Careto, el
bruto mâs paci'tico y noblote del valle entero. . . j Ah, senores ! ?s'0 debe
ser cosa baladi la que mueve â nuestro hombre a hacer tal sacrilicio en la
época navidefia'^ y a salirse, como vulgarmente se dice, de sus casilhis al
cabo de très lustros^^ mal contados que hace que vino â nuestro pueblo.
El alcalde replic('), con la cara y el acento de quien no quiere conlesar
su ignorancia y se siente mortiticado en su amor propio :
— Me ponen ustedeson un grave aprieto, senores, porque si lesaseguro
que ignoro el porque'' del viaje de Primitivo, no han de creérmelo. . .
— j Naturalmente ! — interrumpieron varias voces.
— Y, sin embargo, ahora, al despedirme de él en la estaci(')n, me ha
dicho que un asunto particular suyo reclama su presencia en Madrid ;
eso es todo lo ipie se y puedo decirles.
— El tiempo, senores — doctoreô el Demôstenes rural, — es el encar-
gado de aclarar estos peipienos misterios que son la salsa de la vida
lugarena. . . Sintamos vernos privados, siquiera sea accidentai mente, de
la compania de D. Primitivo. . . Es un grande amigo nuestro . . y un com-
pafiero insustituible de tresillo. . .
Il
Don Romuaido recibi('» la siguiente carta de don Primitivo diez di'as
después de su marcha :
Madrid, 21 de dlciembre de 19. . .
« Sr. D. Romuaido Gandarilla,
« Entranable amigo : Ya que de palabra no me atrevï, (juiero ahora por
escrito contarle la causa de mi viaje â esta coronada villa.
3. Molestado. — 4. De Navidad. — 3. Période de cinco anos. — 6. La causa.
134 PARTE ESPANOLA [790]
« i Me caso ! . . . He aqiii' mi gran secreto, que le suplico guarde hasta
que se haga piiblica en Villasombril mi determinaci()n.
« Mi futura es Carmen, la hija de D. Emeterio el del Palacio : ese senor
cuyo rostro parece arrancado de una tabla del Greco y cuyo espiritu esel
niisnio que animaba â los caballeros que inmortaliz(') cou sus pinceles
tan insigne artista.
« Gonocidos los novios, presumirâ Y. t'undadamente que no es una
pasion volcânica la que dispone este enlace \ sino honda simpatia y de-
seo legitimo de recorrer la ûltima etapa del camino en la amable compa-
ni'a de una nuijer que cou carinosa solicitud endulza el amargor de una
vejez que, de otro modo, se trocari'a en belado y tenebroso crepûsculo.
« Mi estancia en la Corte résulta ser la de un galân deseoso de com pla-
cer a su futura, que se dispone â vaciar alegremente sus bolsillos en las
tiendas, adquiriendo el trousseau y los clâsicos regalos que han de ha-
cerse en parecidas circunstancias.
« Descargada con esta confesion la conciencia de lo que en ella pesaba,
con pesadumbre de remordimiento, he de pasar â contarle ahora una
novela que la diosa casualidad se ha servido escribir à mi costa en los
contados di'as en que paseo mi estampa de lugareno por este Madrid,
(jue no es — achaque de viejos — el mismo Madrid de mis buenos tiem-
pos de estudiante : en quince anos que hace faite yo de la Corte, han
sido prodigiosas las transformaciones que en ella he podido seùalar
« Va sabe V., querido amigo, que yo soy en todo tradicionalista ; asi
es que, por rendir culto â lo pasado, df con mis huesos y con mi maleta
en la casa de huéspedes (jue me sirviô de refugio en mi época estudian-
til durante ocho anos seguidos y posteriormente en varias ocasiones.
« Halle â la patrona, mi inolvidable Dona Paz, como era natural que
la hallase, envejecida y achacosa, y expérimenté sorpresa indecible al
ver â su hija Mari Cruz, la pitusa", (jue yo dejé andando â gâtas, transfor-
mada en una hermosisima y encantadora joven.
« Con muestras efusivas de alegri'a me recibi(') la buena senora, y des-
pués de disponerme la mejor habitaciôn de la casa, aquella ([ue reser-
vaba para los senores de viso % me cont(j sinnûmero de aventuras (|ue le
habian sobrevenido en los quince liltimos anos, y eutre las cuales hay
que registrar como las mâs dolorosas la pérdida de su esposo y la afec-
cion cardiaca que se ha apoderado de la iiifeliz senora.
« El pasado jueves habi'a dado ya tin â todos los encargos nupciales, y
desponiame en las primeras horas de la nianana del viernes û preparar
la maleta para mi regreso, cuando entn') en mi cuarto Mari Cruz sor-
prendiéndome subito con el aspecto trâgico de su cara y el acento de
dolor con que me dijo :
(( — j Haga usted el favor de venir, D. Primitivo !... Mi madré se
muere. . .
« Azorado '" al escuchar tan impensada y lugubre noticia, seguî en
silencio â la joven, que me llevô â una alcoba en la cual, y tendida en
una cama, vei'ase â Dofia Paz, presa de un sincope que â mi' me parecii)
mortal por la palidez de cera del rostro, lo hundido de los ojos y la ab-
soluta inmovilidad de todo el cuerpo. Rodeaban la cama hasta unas
cinco personas, los huéspedes, que, con cara de circunstancias, niira-
7. Boda, matriraonio. — 8. Ctiiquilla (familiar). — 9. Calidad. — 10. Atolondrado.
[791j PARTE espaSola 135
ban â su pupilera y cambial)an entre si discretamente sus impresiones.
« Lleji() ei médico, inspeccioni) esciupulosaniente â la enferma, y al
salir al pasillo me acerqué para j)rei;untarle en voz baja :
« — ^Como la encuentra usted, doctor?. .
« Mirô receloso en derredor suyo, y susurn't â mi oi'do :
« — Sûlo Dios puede liacer un milagro. . No llegarâ a la noche.
« — El doctor, amigo D. Romualdo, acertô desgraciadamente. Doua
Paz entn') en el per/odo agônico, y en un momento de inolvidable y es-
pantosa lucidez, me llami') â la cabecera de su lecho para pedirme en
nombre de Dios que no abandonase à su bija, â su Mari Gruz, que, sin
parientes y falta de una de esas amistades que algunas veces suelen sus-
tituir al afecto de la familia, quedaba â merced del mundo â los diez y
seis anos, la edad mas peligrosa para las mujeres privadas del amor de
una madré ; la fortaleza invencible ; el amparo inlinito.
Usted ya meconoce, D. Romualdo ; no soy sensiblero ni gusto de extre-
mar estas notas lugubres que, eon abrumadora frecuencia, resuenan en
el concierto de la vida ; juré â la moribunda amparar à Mari Gruz, y al
hacer este juramento, mis ojos los nublaban las lâgrimas.
« Y hete aquî â un lugareno que hace un viaje de placer para encar-
gar la canastilla de boda, y ve que cae sobre esta, como llovida de! cielo,
una linda rauchacha de diez y seis anos.
« Para evitar hablillas, siempre molestas, le encarezco â V. el silencio
acerca de esta aventura, que no me atrevo â juzgarde malandanza. Dentro
de très dîas tendra el gusto de estrechar su mano y de presentarle â, Mari
Gruz, su amigo, que le quiere.
Primitivo Gorneja.
III
Don Eleuterio, hidalgo de los de la rancia cepa montanesa, que no
poseia, amén " de unos cuantos prados y maizales, y un caballo viejo y
destarlalado, cosa que nuis valiese (pie la casa solariega de gran portalada
y énorme escudo, que pregonaba en la piedra la ilustre prosapia de sus
ascendientes, sintiôse mortalmente ofendido en su dignidad al oir de
labios de su futuro yerno la loable historia de la protecciôn de Mari Gruz,
historia que caliiicô de cuento burdo '-, negândose â autorizar el concer-
tado enlace con su hija.
La hija de tal padre, los notables del casino y el pueblo entero,
diéronse maliciosamente por enterados de la causa que moliv(') el viaje
del bueno del secretario. Resultaba mas claro que la luz del di'a que le
llevô â la Gorte el invencible remordimiento de algûn mal paso dado en
sus anos juvéniles. Y todos, al ver â Mari Gruz, atirmaron que se parecia
â D. Primitivo como puede parecerse una gota de agua â otra.
Y aunque D. Romualdo intervino con toda su autoridad y todo su pres-
tigio, no pudo llevar al ânimo de sus conciudadanos el convencimienlo
de que la presencia de la joven en Yillasombril obedecia â un hermoso
rasgo sentimental de su amigo ; enseno la carta de este â los principales
interesados en que se desvaneciese la calumniosa sospecha, y todos, des-
pués de leer el manuscrito, se lo devolvîan con mortificadora é ironica
sonrisa : aquel era un ardid '-^ inocente que solo acusaba exceso de ima-
11. Ademàs. — 12. Torpe, mal pensado. — 13. Habilidad.
136 PARTE ESPAnOLA [792]
ginaciôn. Don Pi-iinilivo vii'»se otiligado â représentai' el pocoairoso papel
del novio conipuesto y sin novia.
Andando el tiempo, celebn')se la boda de Mari Griiz con un indiano
que retornaba ^^ â su aldea joven aùn y con muchos miles de pesos ; las
ricas preseas que debieron servir a D. Primitivo para su enlace con la
hija del hidalgo, las luci(') Mari Cruz, que realzaba con ellas su natural
belleza, produciendosu aparici(')n un murniullo de asombro.
Todos los del pueblo, excepto D. Romualdo, comentaron la gran satis-
facciôn que resplandecia en el rostro de D. Primitivo^ que apadrinaba a
la hija de su patrona.
Los mâs comedidos decian con equivoca frase :
— j Que contento va el padrino !
Y los nias sueltos ' ' de lengua, replicaban :
— j Naturalniente ! — ; Todos los dias no se casan hijas con india-
nos
!
Aiejandro Larrubiera.
14. VolTÎa. — 15. Ligeros.
Goethe*
II
Para la fuerza de una frase, es completanientediferente que tras ella se
encuentre un hombre 6 no. Tanto en el periiklico erudito como en el
diario intluyente, no distingo forma alguna ; ûnicaniente esa especie de
sombra irresponsable, y. con bastante frecuencia todavi'a, veo a una socie-
dad financiera, veo â algùn monigote que tras la careta y bajo el manto
de un articulo prétende que se le tome por alguien. Pero,en cadapârrafo
de un verdadero libre, en cada una de sus frases, distingo los ojos de
un hombre bien delinido ; las palabras estân inundadas por su fuerza y
su terror ; las comas y las rayas estân vivas, y cuanto escrito esta es
atlético y âgil, y puede ir lejos y vivir muclio tiempo.
En Inglaterra y en America es posil)[e ser versado en los escritos de un
poeta griego 6 latino sin saber ni entender de poética. Pues, que un
hombre haya dedicado algnnos anos â Plat()n y â Procio, no autoriza â
suponer que tenga sentimientos heroicos ni (jue desdene las modas de su
pais. Pero, en semejante materia, el pueblo aleman hace alarde de ridi-
cula buena fe : el estudiante, al salir del aula piensa aun en la lecci()n
que acaba de oir, y el profcsor no puede despojarse de la ilusi(')n de que
las verdades (ilos(')licas, en cierta medida, no sean aplicables en Berlin y
Munich. Y como esta formalidad les permite tener un horizonte inteiec-
tual mucho mâs vasto que el de los hombres mejor dotados, â ella se debe
quecasi todas las definiciones que se usan en las conversaciones de orden
elevado, nos vienen de Alemania.
{Conduira. )
Emerson.
OVéanse las otras cuatro partes. (Traducci()n del ingles.)
Les Cinq Langues
N° 18.
20 Juin 1908.
8° Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
Très Monumentos nacionales
III
Pudieran las torres de Teriiel, alguna de ellas elevada con el templo i\
que sirve, en mediados del siglo XII, contar historias tan românticas
como las de Diego de Ejemplares bellisi-
Marcilla é Isabel de â^^ ™°^ ^^^ mudéjar, la
SegiiraSlosodiosque ^^^^é?s ^^^'^"^ ^® ^^" Martin
durante très siglosdi- ^^^^S fué objeto, en el
vidieron, como Gapu- K^^S i ^'»'^ ^^ ' ^^ ""^ ^^^^
letos y Montescos, los ||f^p| portentosa, realizada
Marcillay los Munoz, plMÉi '^*^*' "" maestro l'ran-
las horrilDles justicias w^^^P i^ ces. Gonsistiô tal obra
de los Alfonsos IV y p^^^ = ^'^ renovarle toda la
V, los incendios, ase- 1^^^ i cimentaciôn y el cuer-
sinatos y disensiones ^1^^ I pobajo,viéndosepara
de nobles y villanos ; pS^^^ | esto en la necesidad
en lin, inacabable se- ë^y?jS | de suspender en el
rie de acontecimien- ^rj% j^^^ ^ aire, por mediode un
tos mémorables en los ^ p^^^gG = ingenioso apeo, la alta
anales de la Edad ^"'^^^^^^Tî^ \ mole. No otra cosa se
Mediay delostiempos K^'^Bl |^^^^ priL '^^ hecho, no ha mu-
de las Gomunidades. pÊ piPilÉ^j^^ ^^^^' ^°" ^' palacio
Fueron estas torres, MJ^ JT^lTO^^aSfe ducal de Yenecia.
cinco se conservan, ÇâSi'* ^"^IjiifiM^^ Dichas torres son al
dos de ellas casi com- i^^f3^^^^\^I^ÊS propio tiempo poter-
pletas, obra de con- ^^ il \ "^^pj "^^ de acceso â la
versos que â la expu- ^W' /^ ■ \ v~v poblacion, pues ex-
gnacion alli queda- ' 1 // ,1 '^^s' cepto la colegiata,
ron, fundando des- ^ Z^^.^- *^''' -vV Hamada en tiempos
pues, al par de los " ^^' "^ "'^' antiguos la iglesia de
hebreos, familias tan Teruei ; Media Vila, todas las
famosas como las de "^'^"'^ '^^ ^^" Martin. demâs parroquias es-
los Santângel y Ram. taban situadas en cir-
culo, siguiendo el âmbito de los muros que del'endîan la ciudad.
Y ya que la Torre Nueva - de Zaragoza fué demolida sin que la cien-
1 La historia de Diego Marcilla é Isabel de Segiira sirviô de asunto .i Hartzenbusch
para su famoso drama Los amantes de Teruel. — 2. La Torre Nueva de Zaragoza,
(lestruida en los iiltimos anos del pasado siglo, ofrecia la particularidad, aparté su
iTiérito arquitectùnico, de estar inclinada.
[105] •«SP'\«- 1^
138 PARTB ESPANOLA [834]
cia y el amor al arte pusieran nada en su favor para salvarla, cosa que
hubiera sido posible, sâlvense otras torres no menos bellas, aun cuando
pert'ecta mente perpendiculares, é hijas de un raisnio estilo y quizâ de
unas mismas manos algunasde ellas.
{Conclusion.) B. de la Vega.
El Tiempo al rêvés.
(ô cuento ô sueno.)
Don Lucas Pasaron era todo un sabio y era todo un viejo. Y ademâs de
viejo y sabio, era filosofo profundo.
Pero con toda su iilosofia, con toda su ciencia y todos sus aiïos, jamâs
pudo resolver este problema, que pudiéramos llamar el problema del
tiempo.
(•; Que es el tiempo ? ^-.Es una realidad? ;,Es una ilusidn ?
;, Cômo, si el tiempo no tuvo principio, hemos llegado al momento pré-
sente ?
Y si en el estamos, ^v en que consiste que el tiempo no ha de acabar
jamâs ?
De sus ochenta anos, llevabaDon Lucas acaso setenta hichandopor resolver
este indescifrable problema.
Encerrado en su gabinete de estudio, sentado en su poltrona', niedio hun-
dido en la sombra, veia en el espacio, con los ojos de la imaginaciôn, algo
asi como un rio sin principio ni tin, en el cual siempre se caminallevado por
la corriente, sin que barca alguna pueda subir hacia el origen misterioso de
la misteriosa corriente.
El gabinete de estudio de Don Lucas respondia à la idea que de continue
torturaba su cerebro ; porque mas que gabinete de estudio, semejaba una
caprichosarelojeria ; pero una relojeria histôrica por decirlo asi.
De una parte, relojes de sol, que jamâs marcaban la hora, porque siempre
estaban en la sombra.
De otra parte, relojes de agua, que, gota â gota, iban marcando los instantes
del tiempo. Dijéras»; que alguna màquina colosal habia conseguido liqui-
darlo, y que en gotas se iba deshaciendo.
Mâs alla, relojes de arena ; eran algo asi como el tiempo deshecho en
polvo. i Que es el momento présente y el que pasô y el que esta à punto de
pasar ? j Todo polvo !
Aûn mâs alla, relojes neumâlicos, como si el aire quisiera competir con
la arena y el agua.
Y â continuaciôn, relojes eléctricos en que la duraciôn es palpitaciôn del
éter.
Luego, antiguos relojes de pesas, con su caja énorme, sus adornos à la
moda de la época y su gran péndola en vaivén constante.
En otro testero^ los relojes mâs perfectos, de construcciôn moderna, ya
con péndola de mercurio, ya de varillas compensadas. Todos con su esfera
redonda y sus ajugas que giran.
Dijérase que es el tiempo que toma forma, que tiene cuerpo y, sobre todo,
que tiene cabeza ; cabeza redonda con un solo ojo énorme, mirando cons-
tantemente â la eternidad.
Y mezclândose^ â todos elles, llenando todos los huecos, sobre las chime-
1. Silla baj.i de brazos pero muy ancha y cômoda. — 2. Lado. — 3. Confundiéndose .
[835j PARTE ESFANOLA 139
neas, sobre las mesas, trepando * por las paredes, colgando de las cornisas,
hasta arrastràndose por el suelo, todos los caprichos de la relojeria antigua
y moderna.
Relojes que cantan eu., eu... al dar la liora ; relojes en que se asoma un
monigote^ à la esfera, como à ver lo que pasa por cl mundo, y que luego
vuelve à hundirse en el tiempo ; relojes con caja de mùsica; relojes con
campanas y con campanillas : dijérase que el liempo se afanaba por tener
voz, à la vez que se afanaba por tener forma.
Y en aquel centro estrambûtico " y fantâstico, sentado en un sillon, ilu-
minado por la Uamade la chimonea, pasàbase borasy horasDon Lucas, como
un reloj mas de la rica y estrafalaria coleccion.
Y con su cabeza blancà, su frente espaciosa, sus ojos todavia brillantes, 6
porque un fuego interno los alumbrase, 6 porque la humedad de la decre-
pitud brillase en ellos, cualquiera hubiera creido que era el espiritu visible
de aquel ejército cronométrico.
En todo caso, si el pobre Don Lucas era un reloj màs, para poco ténia
cuerda ; y si habia de seguir midiendo el tiempo, bien pronto lo mediria
como los relojes de arena : convertido en polvo.
De todas maneras. Don Lucas seguia pensando en su eterno problema.
i El tiempo ! i Que es el tiempo ? Extraùa mezcla de cualidados opuestas.
Lo mâs ilusorio ; lo mâs vago ; lo mâs insubstancial. ; La nada; realmente la
nada ! No hay manera de verlo, ni de tocarlo, ni de asirlo ''.
Y à la vez, lo mâs positivo. lo mâs invencible, lo eterno.
Un rio en que siempre nos estamos banando, del cual no podemos salir,
y en el cual, por mucho que braceemos, jamâs podremos caminar contra la
corriente.
— El tiempo me rodea, — pensaba Don Lucas ; — lo estoy viendo en las
rayas del cuadrante solar que piden un rayo de sol. Lo estoy viendo gotear
en el reloj de agua. Lo estoy viendo desprendiéndose en hilillo de arena,
entre una y otra ampolla de cristal. Lo estoy viendo en los monigotes de los
cuadrantes, que me bacen muecas. Lo estoy viendo en los péndulos que
oscilan, en las manecillas que van caminando paso tras paso de uno â otro
segundo. Lo estoy oyendo en campanas, campanillas, cantos cxtranos y
mûsicas fantâsticas con que el tiempo se ayuda â caminar, pai-a entretener el
cansancio de tan larga carrera.
Si yo pudiera subir â través del tiempo, quizâ lograra comprenderlo, como
subiendo el xXilo se llega â sus origenes.
i Que feliz séria — pensaba Don Lucas — si yo pudiera caminar por el
tiempo ; pero no hacia abajo, sino hacia arriba !
i El tiempo al rêvés ! ; Hé aqui el problema I
Y tanto pensô, tanto se afanô pensando, tanto se devanô el traqueteado
ovillejo de sus sesos % que de puro cansancio se quedô dormido sonando lo
que sigue.
A no ser que no fuese sueiïo, sino broma pesada del tiempo mismo.
0 perdiô el sentido Don Lucas, 6 se le afmô el sentido. Y en estrambôtico
sueno 6 en maravillosa realidad, 6 creyô ver ô viô que un énorme reloj de
caja — el mâs antiguo de toda la coleccion — se iba transformando hasta
convertirse lentamente en un viejo vénérable que, por las senas ^, debia de
ser nada menos que el tiempo mismo convertido en bombre.
La esfera se transformé en una cabeza ; sublancura en plaleada cabellera;
su caja, que llegaba hasta el suelo, en larguisima hopalanda ; y la péndola,
duplicada en su vaivén, fingié dos inquiétas piernecillas.
Todo ello confuso y borroso ; pero â la luz indecisa de la chimenea, bien
4. Encaramando, subiendo. — 5. Miiùeco. — ti. Extravagante, muy raro. — 7.
Cogerlo. — 8. Tantas vueltss le diô en su cansada imaginaciôn. — 9. Por el aapecto,
por la apariencia.
l'tO PARTE BSPANOLA 18361
podia pasar el reloj transformado por viejo vénérable ; que por el sitio, el
ambiente y las circnnstancias no podia ser otro que el tiempo en carne
humana.
En aquel instante todos los relojes empezaron à dar las dooe ; canipanas y
campanillas repiquetearon ; los relojes de mùsiea repilieron una vez niâs su
eterna cantata. Y en aquella confusion de sonidos, que todos proclamaban
con voces metâlicas la existencia del tiempo, sin decir lo que el tiempo
fuese, porque lo decian en lengua ininteligible, creyô Don Lucas oir una voz
que pronunciaba con suficiente claridad estas palabras : « Tu deseo se va â
ver cnmplido ; para ti el tiempo rétrocède ; vas â subir por la misteriosa
corriente ».
Y desde aquel momento las manecillas de todos los relojes comenzaron à
rétrocéder, y Don Lucas comenzô â recorrer su propia vida, pero en sentido
inverso.
; Que vida tan extrana I ; Que el'ectos tan crjmicos ! ; Que extravagancias
de una existencia invertida 1
Al principio no entendid "^ lo que le hablaban por que las palabras se pro-
nunciaban al rêvés y â éi le llamaban Sacul Nod.
Pero como parecia que sussentidos se habian invertido también, no tardo
en acostumbrarse al estrambôtico lenguaje.
Gran placer le causé el que todos sus acreedores le devolvieran el dinero
que les habia dado ; pero al fin del mes tuvo un gran disgusto, porque Don
Lucas era un vénérable jubilado, y en vez de recibir lapaga, tuvo que devol-
verla al Tesoro pùblico.
Las maiianas se hicieron tardes, las tardes mananas ; \ que el sol, retro-
cedicndo en su camino, por Occidente salia y se hundia por Oriente 1
Dos cosas le agradaban sobremanera : ver que sus trajes se hacian nuevos,
y notar que de ano en ano su mujer y él iban rejuveneciendo ; luna de miel
inversa que no dejaba de ser graciosa y picante.
Pero sus hijos rejuvenecian también, pasando de hombres â jovenes, de
jovenes â niâos ; y un dia — caso no previsto — perdid â sus hijos, y para
mayor escarnio ", no con las tristezas de la muerte sino con las alegrias de
la vida.
Pero los habia pt-rdido. De manera que la muerte le salia al encuentro al
rétrocéder en el transcurso de su existencia.
Otro dia llegô en que se deshizo su boda y perdio también â su mujer,
que pasô de ser su esposa â ser su desposada ; y luego à ser su novia ; y
mâs tarde una senorita à quien encontraba en el teatro ; y luego, nada : una
mujer â quien no se conoce. Formas nucvas, extravagantes, de la muerte,
de la destruccién y del olvido.
Y luego — cosa extrana — los desengaiios por descnganos empezaban y
por acababan esperanzas.
Pero todo ibadesvaneciéndose ; todo caminaba hacia atrâs.
Y él era otra vez mozo, otra vez jôven, otra vez nirio. Seguia una carrera,
pero â la inversa, perdiendo tantos anos como anos habia ganado, hasta vol-
ver à la escuela de las primeras letras, lo cual era una série interminable
de disgustos.
Y como el maldito viejo del reloj le habia dejado la memoria, el pobre
Don Lucas sufria de una manera horrible.
Decididamente el tiempo no vale mucho mâs, y aùn vale menos, cuando
se toma â la inversa «lue cuando se toma â derechas. ; Por algo camina
hacia adelante !
Por l'iltimo se'vio Don Lucas en los brazos de una nodriza. ; Y que ridi-
culo se encontre !
Habia presenciado, es cierto, espectâculos extraordinarios.
10. Coinprendio. — 11. 13urla.
[837j l'ARTE BSPANOLA 141
Casas que se deshacen, volviendo â ser solares.
Batallas en que los muertos y heridos se levantan, se incorporan â sus
regimientos y de espaldas se van separando del canipo de batalla.
Cementerios que se despucblan volviendo los muertos â la ciudad, mien-
tras los vivos retroceden hasta confundirse con sus padres, como si la
hunianidad oscilase entre dos sepulcros : el sepulcro de la muerte y el
sepulcro de la vida.
Y una torre que él habia visto despiomarse en su primera existencia,
recobro sus escombros y volviô â elevarse en el espacio.
Al fin un dia comprendiô ([ue iba â desaparecer de este mundo ; que iba
â embeberse en su germen ; que iba â perder la conciencia, y que iba à
hundirse por toda una eternidad en la negra noclie de los tiempos pasa-
dos.
lin suma : aquello era también la muerte.
La muerte con sudario ô la muerte con panales, daba lo mismo.
En aquel momento supremo, haciendo un supremo esfuerzo, le pidiô al
tiempo con ansias de agonia, que recobrase su curso.
Acaso era una anagaza '- del viejo-nino para ganar una nueva existencia
y estarse asi viviendo por los siglos de los siglos, hacia adelante y hacia atràs,
como péndola que oscila.
Pero no le saliô la treta'^ tan à su gusto como habia imaginado, por(iue
sea que despertase de pronto, sea que el tiempo le hiciera dar un salto, ello
es que de repente despertd, encontrândose en su bulaca, en su gabinete de
estudio, con la cliimenea casi apagada, con las paredes enipapeladas de hojas
de almanaque y cubiertas de relojes de todas las formas y de todas las épo-
cas, todos con el mismo vaivén y todos dando la misma hora : la una de la
noclie.
Y el viejo pensé con tristeza, pero con resignacion : « Cuando el tiempo va
hacia adelante, por algo sera. Dejémosle correr ; dejémosle pasar».
Y arrulado por el tic-tac de las péndolas, de nuevo se durmiô, pero con
sueào tranquilo, el pobre anciano y vénérable sabio Don Lucas Pasarôn.
•José ECHEGARAY.
(De la Real Academia Espaâola.)
12. Engano habil. — 13. La malicia, la astucia, la habilidad.
La Religion.
Es una cosa indiidable que la moral positiva es la religion ; que la
moral cientilica no basta para la doctrina, para la ensenanza, y para la
educaciôn de los pueblos. Y si esto es verdad, ^cual es la religion de cada
uno ?^ La religi()n de cada pueblo ? Es la que ha heredado de sus mayores ;
es para los espafioles la religion de sus padres, es la religion que Espafia
ha tenido durante diecinueve siglos; es la religion que esta unida â todas
sus glorias, â sus grandezas, â su civilizacion, â su carâcter, â sus artes, à
su ciencia, à su elocuencia, à su poesia, à su literatura. Esa es la religion
de cada pueblo ; la que se aprende al aprender â hablar, aquella con
cuyos cânticos se adormecio el niilo en su infancia. con la (jue educa al
hombre su madré.
Es un ienumeno moral, muy frecuente en todas partes, que el hombre
mâs incrédulo, el que mas desprecia las prâcticas religiosas, el que màs
142 PARTE E8PAN0LA [838]
desobedece ios préceptes religiosos, tiene sentimientos cristianos, y en su
conducta obedece y signe el espiritu del cristianismo : renegando de Dios,
le obedece ; renegando de la verdad revelada, la signe. Si eso no fuera
asî, la Europa estarfa ya disiielta y habria Uegado à Ios iiltimos limites de
la anarqnia. Gon el indiferentismo que la roe, si no fuéramos cristianos
con el sentimiento, aun cuando seamos impîos con la cabeza, ^ que séria
de nosotros ? i. Que séria de Ios pueblos â quienes regimos ? i Que séria de
la humanidad */
A. de Ios Rios y Rosas .
El Castellano viejo.
Va en mi edad pocas veces giisto de alterar el orden que en mi manera de
vivir lengo hace tiempo estalilecido, y fundo esta repugnancia en que no he
abandonado mis lares ' ni un solo dia para no quebrantar mi sistema, sin
que haya sucedido el arrepentimiento màs sincero al desvanecimiento de mis
enganadas esperanzas. Un resto con todo eso del antiguo cérémonial que en
su trato tenian adoptado nuestros padres, me obliga âaceptar â veces ciertos
convites à que pareceria el negarse groscria 6 por lo menos ridicula atccta-
ciôn de delicadeza.
Andâbame dias pasados por esas calles â buscai- maleria para mis arlicu-
los. Emhebido en mis pensamientos, me sorprendi varias veces â mi mismo
riendo como un pobre hombrc de mis propias ideas y moviendo maquinal-
mente Ios labios ; algiin tropezôn me recordaba de cuando en cuando que
para andar por el empcdrado de Madrid no es la mejor circunstancia la de
ser poeta ni filosofo ; mas de una sonrisa maligna, mâs de un gesto de admi-
racién de Ios que â mi lado pasaban, mehacia reflexionar que Ios soliloquios
no se deben hacer en piiblico ; y no pocos encon trônes, que al volver las
esquinas di con quien tan distraida y râpidamente como yo las doblaba, me
hicieron conocer que Ios distraidos no entran en el numéro de Ios cuerpos
elâsticos, y mucho menos de Ios seres gloriosos é impasibles. En semejante
situaciôn de mi espiritu, i, que sensacion no deberia producirme una horrible
palmada que una grau mano, pegada (â lo que entonces entendi) â un gran-
disimo brazo, vinô a descargar sobre mis hombros, que por desgracia no
lienen punlo alguno de semejanza con Ios de Atlante ?
No (lueriendo dar â entender que desconocia este enérgico modo de anun-
ciarse, ni desairar el agasajo ^ de quien sin duda habia creido hacérmelo mâs
que médiane, dejandome torcido para lodo el dia, traté solo de volverme por
conocer quien fuese tan mi auiigo para Iratarme tan mal ; pero mi caste-
llano viejo es hombre que cuando esta de gracias no se ha de dejar ninguna
en el tintero. ^ Como dira el lector que siguio dandome pruebas de confianza
y carino ? Echôme las manos â Ios ojos, y sujetandome por delrâs, i. quién
soy ? gritaba, alborozado ^ conel buenéxito de su delicada travesura. ^ Quién
soy ? — Un animal, iba à responderle ; pero me acordé de repente de quien
podria ser, y substituyendo cantidades iguales, — Braulio ères, le dije. Al
oirme suelta sus manos, rie, se aprieta Ios ijares, alborota la calle, y pone-
nos â entrambos en escena. — i Bien, mi amigo ! ^ Pues en que me has cono-
cido ? — i Quién pudiera sino lu !... — i, Has venido ya de tu Vizcaya ? —
No, Braulio, no he venido. — Siempre el mismo genio. }, Que quieres ? Es la
pregunta del espaùol. ; Guânto me alegro de que estes aqui ! i Sabes que
1. Mi hogar. — 2. Obsequio. — 3. Regocijado, alegre.
[839] PARTE ESPA.NOLA 143
manana son mis dias ? — Te los deseo rauy felices. — Déjate de cumplimien-
tos entre nosotros ; va sabes que yo soy franco y castellano viejo ; el pan pan
y el vino vino ; por cOnsiguiente, exijo de ti que no vayas â dârmelos, pero
estas convidado. — j. A que ? — A corner conmigo. — No es posible. — No
hay remedio. — No puedo, insisto yo temblando. — ;. No puedes ? — Gra-
cias. — ^ Gracias ? Vête à paseo ; amigo, como no soy el duque de F., ni el
conde de P.. te niegas.... — i. Quién se résiste â unasorpresa de esta especie?
(. quién quiere parecer vano "? — No es eso, sino que... — Pues si no es eso,
me interrumpe, te espero â las dos ; en casa se come â la espanola ; tem-
prano. Tengomucha gente : lendremos al famoso X. que nos improvisarâ de
lo lindo ; T. nos cantarâ de sobremesa una rondena * con su gracia natural ;
y por lanoche J. cantarâ y tocarâ alguna cosilla. — Esto me consolô algûn
tanto y fué preciso céder : un dia nialo, dije para mi, cualquiera io pasa ;
en este mundo, para conservar amigos, es preciso tener el valor de aguantar
sus obsequios. — No faltarâs si no quieres que riùamos. — No faltaré, dije
con voz exânime y ânimo decaido, como el zorro que se vuelve inûtilmente
dentro de la trampa donde se ha dejado cojer. — Pues hasta manana ; y me
diô un torniscôn ' por su despedida. Vile marchar como el labrador ve ale-
jarse la nubedesu semlirado, y quedeme discurriendo como podian enten-
derse estas amistades tan hostiles y funestas.
Ya habrâ conocido el lector. siendo tan perspicaz como yo le imagino, que
mi amigo Braulio esta muy lejos de pertenecer â lo que se llama gran
mundo y sociedad de buen tono, pero no es tampoco un hombre de clase
inferior, puesto que es un empleado de los de segundo orden que renne
entre su sueldo y su hacienda cuarenta mil reaies de renta ; que tiene una
cintita atada al ojal y una crucecita â la sombra de la solapa ; que es persona
en fin, cuya clase, familia y comodidades de ninguna manera se oponen â
que tuviese unaeducaciôn mâsescogida y modales mâs suaves é insinuantes.
Mas la vanidad le ha sorprendido por donde ha sorprendido casi siempre â
toda ô â la mayor parte de nuestra clase média, y â toda nuestra clase baja.
Es tal su patriotismo, que darâ todas las lindezas del extranjero por un
dedo de su pais. Esta ceguedad le hace adoptar todas las responsabilidades
de tan inconsiderado cariâo ; de paso que defiende que no hay vinos como
los espaûoles, en lo cual bien puede tener razon, defiende que no hay edu-
caciôn como la espaùola, en lo cual bien pudiera no tenerla ; y â trueque de
defender que el cielo de Madrid es purisimo, defenderâ que nuestras mano-
las son las mâs encan tadoras de todas las mujeres : es un hombre, en fin,
que vive de exclusivas, â quien le sucede poco mâs ô menos lo que à una
parienta mia que se muere por lasjorohas, solo porque tuvo un amigo que
llevaba una excrecencia bastante visible sobre entrambos omoplatos.
No hay que hablarle, pues, de esos usos sociales, de estos respetos mutuos,
de estas reticencias urbanas, de esta delicadeza de trato, que establece entre
los hombres una preciosa armonia, diciendo solo lo que debe agradar y ca-
llando siempre lo que puede ofender. El se muere por planiarîe una fresca
al lucero del alba, como suele decir, y cuando tiene un resentimiento se le
espeta â uno cara â cara : como tiene trocados todos los frenos, dice de los cum-
plimientos que yâ sabe lo que quiere àecir cumplo y mienio ; llama â la
urbanidad hipocresia, y â la decencia monadas ; à toda cosa buena le aplica
un mal apodo ; el lenguaje de la tinura es para él poco mâs que griego ;
crée que toda la crianza esta reducida â decir Dios guarde â ustedes al entrar
en una sala, y aiàadir con permiso de usted cada vez que se mueve ; â pre-
guntar â cada uno por toda su familia, y â despedirse de todo él mundo ;
cosas todas que asi guardarâ él de olvidarlas como de tener pacto con
extranjeros. En conclusion, hombres de estos que no saben levantarse para
despedirse sino en corporaciôn con alguno 6 algunos otros, quehan de dejar
4. CanciQn andaluza. — 5. Pellizco.
PARTE KSPANOLA [840]
humildemente debajo de una mesa su sombrero, que llaman su cabeza, y que
cuando se hallan en sociedad por desgracia sin un socorrido baslôn, darian
ciialquier cosa por no tener manos ni brazos, porque en realidad no saben
donde ponerlos, ni que cosa se puede hacer con los brazos en una sociedad.
Llegaron las dos, y como yo conocia ya â mi Braulio, no me pareciô con-
veniente acicalarme demasiado para ir â corner ; estoy seguro de que se
hubiera ])icado ; no quise sin embargo excusar un frac de color y un panuelo
blanco, cosa indispensable en un dia de dias en semejantes cosas : vestime
sobre todo lo mâs despacio que me tué possible, como se reconcilia al pié
del suplicio el infeliz reo, que quisiera tener cien pecados mas cometidos
que contar para ganar tiempo ; era cilado a las dos, y entré en la sala â las
dos y média.
{CoTitinuarà . )
Mariano José de Larra.
(Figaro.)
Goethe *.
ni
Pero al paso que honibres, que tanto en Francia como en Inglaterra se
distinguen por su inteligencia y su saber, eligen sus estudios y partido
con cierta ligereza, y no se exige de ellos que les consagren todas las
fuerzas de su ahna, Gœthe. la cabeza y la personificaci('>n de la nacién
alemana, no habla tan solo por que tiene talento, no, la verdad brilla â
través de sus palabras ; y es sabio en grado elevadisimo, por mâs que
muchas veces su talento vêle su saber. Y, por excelente que sea la frase,
lo que tiene â la vista es mejor todavia.
Eso es lo que excita mi curiosidad. Tiene la formidable independencia
que comunica el trato frecuente con la verdad, y se le escuche ô no, el
hecho que ha establecido subsiste, vuestro interés por el escritor no se
reduce â su historia, y no se le arroja de la memoria. una vez ha cum-
plido convenientemente su tarea, como à un panadero que haya entre-
gado su pan ; su obra es la parte mâs insignificante de si mismo. El Espi-
ritu antiguo, el Espîritu eterno que ha construido el Universo se ha
conliado mâs â este hoinbre que â otro cualquiera.
. . .Su lin, es nada menos que la conquista de la humanidad entera, la
conquista de la verdad uni versai con que quiere enriquecerse. A este
hombre no se le puede corromper, ni engailar, ni intimidar ; estoico,
ejerce gran imperio sobre si mismo. Su abnegacion es grande, y, para
con los demâs honibres no tiene mâs piedra de toque que esta : ^ Que
puedes enseharme2 Y desde este punto de vista évalua todos los bienes :
rango, privilegios, salud, tiempo. y la existencia misma.
Emerson.
(Conclusion.)
(Traducciôn del inglés . )
Véanse las otras cuatro partes.
Les Cinq Langues
N" 19.
5 Juillet 1908.
8° Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
El archive de Simancas.
Cerca de Valladolid, â la dérocha del rio Pisuer^a, y en la carrelera de Bur-
gos â Salamanca, esta la villa de Simancas, en riiyo aiiliguo alcâzai' se halla
inslalado el Archive gênerai del Reino.
A lin conserva la fortaleza los cnbos v las ahnenas de su barbacana v el
Simancas : Visla gênerai del castillo.
ancho y profnndo foso y los puentes, antes levadizos, que a Levante y à
Poniente dan entrada.
Carlos I escogiô este alcâzar para que sirviera de archivo, y su hijo Felipe
II realizô las oliras para darle este destino. Las comenzô Berruguete ', y
Felipe II las encomendo â Francisco de Salamanca, luego â su hijo Juan, y
à la muerte de estos, â Pedro de Mazuecos, siempre bajo la direcciôn de Juan
de Herrera, el arquitecto de El Escorial. Encargô mucho el Rey que al ensan-
char la capacidad del edificio no se at'ease la forma primitiva, pero este
artistico deseo del Monarca no fué interpretado con acierto.
Una tcchumbre de plomo parece aplastar su gallardia ; los torreones, pri-
vados de sus coronas, parecen palomares, y el principal de ellos lleva un
capitel extrano, de forma de campana. À los anliguos ajimeces reemplazan
balcones y rejas, y en gênerai el alcâzar antiguo ha perdido gran parte de su
caràcter.
Pero si la fortaleza no es poi- su belleza un monumento que llame grande-
mente la atenciôn del viajero, el Archivo en ella contenido es uno de los
establecimientos cientificos mejor organizados de Europa.
« Alli, — dice un ilustre escritor, — esta la historia de Espana cuando
1. Famoso arquitecto.
[lUl
KSPAG. 19
146 PARTE ESPANOLA | 882 1
esta ci'.i cjisi la Eiiropa, por iio decii" cl inundo; la de Italia, Flandes y el
niievo iruindd que poseia ; la de Alemania, Fiancia é Inglateira, sus enemi-
gas (') sus aliadas. Alli los très reinados mas gloriosos, los Ueyes
(^alôlicos, cl Emperador, Felipe II, cl creadoi- de aquel ininenso panteôn de
niemorias que piiede evocar cualquiera aiite la poslcridad, para cuyo jiiicio
dejô cl mismo taiilos datos en millares de notas y ajuintes escritos de su
niano laboriosa. »
Aquel gran tesoro tenlo la impérial codicia de Napoléon ciiando la invasion
Cranccsa, y en 1810 cmprendio el despojo de 8 000 legajos^. Algunos de elles
t'ueron devneltos cuando, vencido Napoléon, entraron los aliados en Paris
en 1814; pero otros se perdieron sin que nunca mâs se baya sabido lo que
fué de ellos. Aquel tesoro, explorado alguna vcz por nuestros escritores y
màs generalmente por losextranjeros, yace todavia desconocido en sumayor
parte, y qiiizâ no ha revelado basta ahora sino una minima parle de sus
interesanlisin)os secretos. En sus inmensos salones se guardan cerca de
80 OOOlegajos que contienen millones de documentos,
Uno de los cubos que avanzan sobre la muralla es cl llamado del Obispo,
porque en él estuvo preso el famoso prelado y agitador Acuila, qne tanta
parte tomô en el movimiento nacional de las Comunidades de Castilla. En la
misma babitacion que en la actualidad sirvededespaobo aljefe del A)'cbivo,
fué ejeeutadocl célèbre ohispo de Zamora.
' G. :\i.
1. Alailos de papeies.
Inmortalidad.
Cuando en el cler lïilgido y sercno
Arden los astros por la noche uinbria '
El pecho de feliz niclancolia
Y confuso pavor se sientc lleno.
; Ay ! asi giraràn cuando en cl seno
Duerina yo inniôvil de la tumba Tria...
Entre cl orgiiUo y la flaqueza niia
Con ansia ini'itil suspirando pcno.
Pero;. (jué digo ? irrévocable suerte
Tambicn los astros à morir destina
Y vcràn por la edad su luz iiublada.
Mas superior al ticmpo y à la muertc.
Mi aima verâ del mundo la ruina
A la futura eternidad ligada.
José Maria de IIkredia.
1. ltbsciu-;i-
Frases histôricas.
Pega, pero escucha.
lista frase, tan expresiva, tan noble, tan valiente, ha sido atribuida ;'i
muchos personajes célèbres^ perteneciendo verdaderamente al giorioso
ateniense Teniistocles, que la pronuncii), segûn Tucidides y Plutarco, en
el ano 480 antes de Jesucristo. en las condicioncs siguientes :
!8831
PARTE liSPAWOLA
147
ïriunfante en sus luchas cou Aristides, Temîstocles fué encargado del
mando de la llota eiiviada à soiiieter las islas del mar Eyea. que, traicio-
nando â la Grecia, se habian declarado partidarias de los persas.
Cuniplida su inisiôn, se dedicô con verdadero ardor y afanoso' patrio-
tismo â organizarpoderosamente las fuerzas navales de su patria, amena-
zada tan inminentemente por los persas.
LogT() que todas las ciudades de la Grecia olvidasen sus discusiones y,
inirando al peligro comiin, formasen una confedei'aci<'>n para resistir los
lorinidables ejércitos cou ([ue Xerxes los amenazaba.
Su patriotisnio fué tan grande, ([ue sacritîcando su ambiciûu y su atân
de gloria en aras de la union de los griegos, cuya independencia estaba
amenazada, dioen Artemiso el raro ejemplo de modestia de consentir que
el csparciata Euribiades iuese nombradojefe de las fuerzas navales confe-
deradas, â pesar que los atenienses habian contribui'do â la formaciôn de
la escuadra con mayor niiniero de buques, no solo que los espartanos,
sino que todas las ciudades de la Grecia juntas.
Arreciado ' el peligro de la invasion con la muerte de Leonidas en las
Termôpilas, y viendo que Xerxes era dueno de todos los pasos de tierra,
Temîstocles, con su energfa y su valor, deferminû à los confederados à
presentar el combate enel estrecho de Salamina, queél juzgaba posici(')ii
ventajosa.
No se llegô a este acuerdo sin violentas discusiones entre los jefes
confederados, y en una de estas fué cuando el violento Euribiades aine-
naz(> â Temîstocles con el bast()n de mando, amenaza que fué contestada
por el héroe ateniense con la famosa frase :
— Pega, pero escucha.
En efecto, su opinion fué adoptada ; diuse el combate de Salamina, cuya
principal gloria fué para Temîstocles que, con su valor y su pericia. salvô
la Grecia, y sus hermosas palabras quedaron desde entonces, para todos
los siglos, como ejemplo de moderacion y de prudencia.
Fernando Soi-dkvu.la.
1. Celoso. — 2. Aumentado.
Flores de luz.
Embarqué lieno de gozo
En fil divino bajel'
De la ilusiôn ;
Era yo mozo -, muy mozo,
Y era ingenuo, noble y tiel
Mi (^orazôn.
Sur(iuc ^ entre diidas y angustia^
De la vida el anoho mar,
Todo in<{nietiid,
Y vi deshojarse mustias
Las flores que hizo brolar
La juvenliid.
Y al accrcarmc à la tioi-ra
Dcl reposo iMcnhecliur
1. liuque. — 2. Joven.
3. Crucé.
Con que soiié,
Siento nostalgias de guerra,
Nostalgias de liichador :
Vida y fe.
; Luchar 1 ;. Hué im[ioi'ta la mofa
Del populacho luin ".'
Frente al mal,
Cada herida es una ostrofa,
Una rosa del Jardin
Del idéal.
Y, al linal de la partida,
Cuando muere el lucbador
En la crnz.
De la estrota de su vida
Brola en cl cielo una flor
j Toda Inz !
M. R. Blanco Uki-monte.
l'uS
PARTE ESPANOLA
18841
El Tabaco.
El tabaco es una piaula annal, de hojas grandes, flores de color de rosa,
generalmente rennidas en grupos ; su talio es derecho, robuste, y suele
alcanzar una alturade dos métros en la época de su mayor desarrollo.
Es originaria de la America Central, aunque
su cnltivo se ha extendido à otros muchos
paiscs, entre ellos les del Mediodia y Centro de
Europa ; también se produce en algunas na-
ciones del Morte — Holanda por ejemplo ; pero
para que se pueda obtener en les paises frios,
es necesario que el verano sea largo y calu-
roso, â tin de que la planta pueda alcanzar
durante él su mâximo desenvolvimiento ', y se
debe cuidar de ([ue las plantaciones estén
expuestas al Mediodia y en sitios lo màs resguar-
dados que sea posible de los vientos del Norte.
El fruto del tabaco lo constituyen unos gra-
nos extremadamente tinos y pequenos que se
siembran en vivero " alla por el mes de Marzo,
\ los taJlos jovenes se trasplantan en Junio. La
tierra ha de regarse con bastante IVecuencia
para conseguir que prendan las plantas, y es
preciso que si» ([uiten todas las hierbas malas
que en ella creceu.
La cosecha de las hojas se comienza à haccr
à tin de verano, cuando empiezan â ponerse
amarillas. Se cortan en el punto de su naci-
niiento, â raiz del tallo en unos lados, y en
otros se corta toda la |)laiila al ras del suelo. Se dejan expuestas al sol y
tendidas en tierra durante todo el dia las hojas 6 las plantas enteras que se
han cortado ; algunas horas después de puesto el sol se recoge la cosecha y
se atan las hojas en unas cuerdas que se cuelgan al aire libre, con objeto de
que sequen.
Cuando se juzga que estân suficientemente secas, se reûnen en manojos^
de veinticinco ô treinta hojas, que se envuelven todas dentro de unadeellas,
y estos manojos se apilan * unos sobre otros para que la humedad que aûn
contienen haga que pierdan la dureza que el secado les habia comunicado.
Es preciso tener mucho cuidado de que no baya excesiva humedad en los
manojos, à cuyo efecto habrân de vigilarse con nuicho esmero, para que no
eslropeen â los (|ue estân â su alrededor.
Después se clasiflcan las hojas segùn sus cualidades, pues unas son màs
(inas, nuïsobscuras y superiores à las otras,y cada clase tiene aplicaciôn dis-
tinta. Reunidas por eategorias, se sometea por espacio bastante largo â tem-
peraturasque varian entre los treinta y euarenta grades, y seprensan después
para despojarlas del exceso de agua que piieden conservai".
Se reûnen las hojas en paquetes de cuatrocientos à quinienlos kilôgramos
y se almacenan, sirviéndose de ellas luego para la labricaeién de los cigarros
puros, en los cuales se envuelven las hojas recortadas, que se llaman tripa,
en otras mâs finas y de calidad superior, a las que se da el nombre de capa.
El tabaco destinado â ser fumado en cigarrillos 6 en pipa, se prépara
recortando las hojas en forma de hebra o picândolo, y una vez que las mâ-
quinas lo han hecho, se empaciuetay se pone a la venta. También se redu-
El Tabaco.
1. Desarrollo. — 2. Estufii, cobfrlizo de plantas,
tonan.
3. Ilaces, paquetes. — 4. Amon-
1885] PAKTE KSPAiNOLA 149
cen â polvo fino las hojas cuando se qiiiere hacer râpé que se aspira por la
nariz, ô se prensan en tabletas y se destina â ser mascado. La modadel râpé
y de mascar tabaco, que estuvo muy en boga hace bastante tiompo, ha pa-
sado casi por completo.
Esta planta tiene mâs detractores (jue det'ensores ; si bien es cierto <[ue ii
niucha gente le sirvc el tabaco como excitante del cerebro, ayudàndole asi en
lodo trabajo, es tanibién exacto que puedo causar perlurbaciones en la sa-
lud.
El tabaco màs apreciado se producc en la isla de Cuba, \, espccialiiiente,
on alyunas de sus vegas, que han adquirido con cllo renombre univcrsal ;
la faniosa de Vuelta Abajo, por ejemplo.
Cuando el dosciibrimicnto de America, observaron los conijuistadores que
les indios fnmaban, y por cspiritu deimitaciôn, se decidieron âhacerlo tam-
bién.
•luan Anton.
El GastellanO Yie]o{Continuaciôn.)
No quiero hablar de las infinilas visitas ceremoniosas que antes do la
hora de corner entraron y salieron en a(iuella casa, entre las cuales no eran
do dospreciar todos los enipleados de su oficina con sus senoras y sus niùos,
y sus capas, y sus paragnas, y sus chanclos, y sus perritos ; déjome en
blanco '^ los necios cumplimientos que se dijoron al senor do los dïas : no
hablo del inmenso circnlo con que guarnecla la sala el concurso de tantas
personas heterogéneas, «{ue hablaron de que el tiempo iba k miidar, y do
que en el invierno suelo hacer mâs frio que en verano. Vengamos al caso :
dieron las cuatro, y nos hallamos solos los convidados. Desgraciadamente
para mi el senor de X., ({ne debia divertirnos tanto, gran conocedor de
esta clase de convites, habia tenido la amabilidad de ponerse malo aquella
niaiïana; el famoso T. se hallaba oportunamente comprometido para otro
convite ; y la seùora que tan bien habia de cantar y tocai- estaba ronca en
tal disposiciôn que se asonibraba ella misma de que se la entendicse una
sola palabra, y ténia un panadizo en un dedo. ; Cuântas espcranzas desvane-
cidas !
— Supuesto que estamos los que hem os de comer, exclamé D, Braulio,
vamos à la mesa, querida mia. — Espéra un momento, le contesté
su esposa, casi al oido; con tanta visita yo he faltado algunos momentos de
allcâ dentro, y... — Bien, pero mira que son las cuatro... — Al instante
comeremos. — Las cinco eran cuando nos sentâbamos â la mesa.
— Senores, dijo el Anfitriôn al vernos titubear en nuestras rospectivas
colocaciones, exijo la mayor tVanqueza : en mi casa no se usan complimien-
tos. ; Ah ! Figaro, quiero que estes con toda comodidad ; ères poeta ; y
ademâs estos sefiores, que saben nuestras intimas relaciones, no se ofende-
rân si to prefiero : quitate el frac no sea que lo manches. — ^ Qné tengo que
manchar ? le rospondi mordiéndome los labios. — No importa, le daré una
chaqueta mia ; siento que no haya para todos. — No hay necesidad. ~- ; Oh !
si, si ; mi chaqueta ! Toma, mirala ; un poco ancha te vendra. — Pero,
Braulio... — No hay remedio ; no te andes con étiquetas ; y en esto nie quita
él mismo el trac, velis noUs, y quedo sepultado en una cumplida chaqueta
rayada, por la cual solo asomaban los piesy la cabeza, y cuyas mangas no me
permitirian comer probablemenle. Dile las gracias : ; al fin el hombre creia
hacerme un obsequio !
6. En alto.
150 PARTE ESPANOLA [8861
Los dias en que mi aniigo no liene convidados se contenta con una mesa
baja, poco nicâs que banqueta de zapatero, porque él y su niujer, como dice,
;, para que ([uieren mâs ? Desde la tal mcsita, y comose sube el agua del pozo,
liace subir la comida basta la boea, adonde llega goteando después de una
larga Iravesia ; porque pensar que estas gentes han de tener una mesa
regular y estar cômodos todos los dias del ano, es pensar en lo escusado. Ya
se concibe'', pues, que la instalaciôn de ima gran mesa de convite era un
acontecimiento en aquella casa : asi que se habria creido capaz de contcner
catorce personas que eramos una mesa donde apcnas podrian corner ocho
cômodamente. Hubinios de sentarnos de medio lado como quien va â
arrimar el hombro à la comida, y entablaron los codos de los convidados
intimas relaciones entre si con la mâs fraternal inteligencia del mundo.
Colocâronme por mucha distincidn entre un niùo de cinco afios, encarainado
en imas almohadas que era preciso enderezar a cada momento, porque las
ladeaba la natural turbulencia de mi joven ad latere, y entre uno de esos
liombres que ocupan en el mundo el espacio y sitio de très, cuya corpulencia
por todos lados se sab'a de madré de la iinica silla en que se hallaba sentado,
digâmoslo asi, como en la punta de una aguja. Desdoblâronse silenciosa-
mente las servilletas, nuevas en la verdad, porque tampoco eraii muebles en
uso para todos los dias, y fueron izadas** por todos aquellos buenos senores
à los ojales de sus fraques como cuerpos intermedios entr-c las salsas y las
solapas... — Ustedes baron penitencia, senores, exchimo el Anfitri(in una vez
sentado; pero hay que hacerse cargo de que no estamos en Genieys ; frase
que creyô preciso decir. Necia afectacion es esta, si es mentira, dije yo
para mi ; y si verdad, gran torpeza convidar â los amigos â hacer penitencia.
Desgraciadamente no tardé mucho en conocer que habia en aquella
expresiôn mâs verdad de la que mi buen lîraulio se (îguraba. Inter-
minables y de mal gusto fueron los cumplimientos con que para dar
y recibir cada plato nos aburrimos imos â otros. — Sirvase usted. —
Htigame usted el t'avor. — De ninguna manera. — No le recibiré. —
Pâselo usted â la senora. — Esta bien ahi. — Perdone usted. — Gracias.
— Sin étiqueta, seùores, exclamé Braulio, y se ecbô el primoro con su propia
cuchara. Sucedio k la sopa un cocido sui'tido de todas las sabrosas imperti-
nencias de este cngorrosisimo, auniiue buen plato ; cruza por a(iui la carne ;
por alla la verdura ; acâ los garbanzos ; alla al jamôn ; la gallina por
la derecha ; por medio el tocino ; por izquierda los embuchados de
Extremadura; siguiole un plato de ternera mechada, que Dios maldiga, y k
este otros y otros ; mitad traidos de la fonda que esto basta para que
excusemos hacer su clogio ; mitad heclios on su casa por la criada de todos
los dias, por una vizcaina auxiliar lomada al intento [)ara aquella festividad
y por el ama de la casa, que en semejantes ocasiones debe estar en todo, y
por consiguiento suele no estar en nada.
Este plato hay que disimularle, ^ decia esta de unos picbones ; estân un
poco quemados. — Pero, mujer... — Hombre, me aparté un momento, y
ya sabes lo que son las criadas. — ; Que lâstima que este pavo no baya
estado média hora mâs al fuego ! se puso algo tarde. — i No les parece â
ustedes que esta algo ahumado este estofado ? — ;, Que quicres ? Una no
puedecstaren todo. — ; Oh, estâexcelente,exclamâbamostodosdejândonoslo
en el plato, excelente ! — Este pescado esta pasado. — Pues en el despa-
cho de la diligencia del fresco dijeron que acababa de Uegar ; ; el criado es
tan bruto ! — ^ De donde se ha traido este vino ? — En eso no ticnes razon
porque es. . . — Es malisimo. — Estos diâlogos cortos iban exornados con
una infinidad de miradas furtivas del marido para advertirle conlinuamente
à su nmjer alguna negligencia, (lueriendo darnos â entendcr enlrambos a
dos que estaban muy al corrienle de lodas las formulas que en semejantes
7. Comprende. — 8. Alzadas. — 9. Perdoiiai'le.
'8871 PAKTE ESPANOLA iol
rasos se reputan finura, y (jue lodas las torpezas eran hijas de los criados,
que niinca han de aprender à servir. Pero estas negligericias se repelian tan
à menndo, servian tan poco va las miradas, que le fué précise al marido
reciirrir ;i los pellizcos y ;i los pisotoncs ; y la sefiora, que â duras penas
habia podido hacerse superiorhasta entonccs à las persecusiones de su esposo,
ténia la faz '" encendida y los ojos llorosos. — Senora, no se incomode usted
por eso, le dijo el que k su jado ténia. — ; Ah ! Les aseguro â ustedes que
no vuelvo â hacer estas cosas en casa ; ustedes no saben lo que es esLo ; olra
vez, Braulio, iremos à la fonda y no tendras .. — Usted, senora mia, harà
lo que... . — ; Braulio ! ; IJraulio 1 Una tormenla espanlosa estaba â punto
de estallar ; empero todos los convidados à porfia probamos à aplacai- aque-
Ilas disputas, hijas del deseo de dar â enlender la mayoi- delicadeza, para lo
cual no fué poca parte la mania de Braulio y la expresiôn concluyente que
dirigiô de nuevo â la concurrencia acerca de la inutilidad de los cumpli-
mientos, que asi llama él al estar bien servido y al saber corner, i. Hay nada
mfts ridicule que estas génies que quieren pasar por finas en medio de la
mas crasa ignorancia de los usos sociales ".'^.Qué para obsequiarlc le obligan
â usted k corner y beber por fuerza, y no le dejan medio de hacer su gusto ?
l. Por que habrâ gentes que solo quieren corner con algnna màs limpieza
los dias de dios ?
Mariano José de Larra.
{Conduira. ) (Figaro.)
10. Cara.
Los abedules del camino. *
I
En una manaiia de otono.el ardiente globodel sol acababadeaparecer
en el horizonte pero sus rayos no habian calentado todavia el aire fresco.
En el camino vî unos cuantos abedules cuyas hojas empezaban â
ponerse amarillas, pues el buen tiempo concluia para ellos. Su florescen-
cia, aunque brève, babfa sido soberbia en esa espléndida naturaleza de
los pai'ses del Norte. Cuando los rayos del sol primaveral hubieron
fundido elliielo y la nieve; cuando los libertadosarroyuelos empezaron â
murmurar dulcemente, y cuando la alondra alla en lo alto, en el azul del
cielo, hizo oir sus trinos, tiernos botones asomaron en las desnudas
ramas y estallaron en hojas que se desarroUaron al templado soplode la
brisa de la primavera. El bosque de abedules se vistio con el color verde
de la esperanza ; y mientrasel verano, ese dios con bucles de luz, rein() en
los paises del Norte, los ârboles gozaron de ttoreciente belleza. Inocentes
y sencillos se acariciaban unos â otros y ofreci'an exquisita sombra al
viajero rendido por el ardoroso sol, pero cuando el corto verano hubo
huido de los paises del Norte, pude ver con cuanta resignaciôn
aceptaban su destino y dejaban caer el tesoro de sus aimas. V en el
preciso momento de su humillaciùn y de su desgracia, alli estaban
admirando, por decirlo asf, la tranquila calma de la hora matutina. Se
hubiera crei'do que hablaban al viajero que pasaba precipitadamente,
• Véanse las otras cuatro partes. — Estas liiieas fueron escritas por el rey Oscar de
Sueria cuando ténia 18 anos. Las toinamos de las Ohras en prom tradiicidas al ale-
miln por Ennilio Jonns y [niblicadas en Hamburgo, (Libreria A. G.)
152 PARTE esi'aSoi.a [888]
dirigiéndose, después del descanso del doiningo, a su cotidiano trabajo,
y que queriau despertar su admiraci()n y hacer nacer en su aima pensa-
mientos del inâs alla...
También el hombre tiene su primavera, su verano y su otono. La pri-
mavera es su juventud, el verano su edad viril yel otoiio su vejez. Pero es
cierto que en plena primavera el hombre puede sentir vientosotofialesdel
mismomodo que en laépoca de suotofio puede sentir unestremecimicnto
primaveral. Las preocupaciones puedentrocar el albaen crepiisculo y la
primavera en otoùo. Guando el rayo hiere el ârbol de la vida, le es muy
dificil levantarse, ô por lo menos necesita mucho tiempo para lograrlo.
Y levantarse, le séria completamente imposible si no encontrase la
ayuda de hombres caritativos que sostienen al ârbol vacilante y
le obligan à sostenerse en pie. En el desierto, el siroco roe a la palmera
solitaria hasta que cae, â despecho de su esbeltez y de su fuerza.
{Conduira.)
Cariosidades.
Generosidad de un ar lista.
El famoso actor trâgico inglés Garrick habia colocado quinientas libras
esterlinas en casa de un famoso négociante que, de repente, por efeclo
de negocios desgraciados, se viô arruinado y en la imposibilidad de abo-
iiar sus créditos a los acreedores.
Los parientes y amigos de este hombre, honrado é infeliz, se reunieron
para ver de ayudarle entre todos â negociar al menos con los acreedores
algi'in acuerdo. Garrick tuvo noticia de esta reunion, meti(5 en un sobre
el documento de sus quinientas libras y se le envi<5 al négociante, quien
desde hacîa muchos afios era amigo suyo, con una carta que decia :
« Me he enterado de que hoy se reûnen en su casa sus parientes y ami-
gos, y aunque me hubiera sido muy agradable asistir, me es imposible
hacerlo. De todas maneras, como me figuro que para recibir â los convi-
dados pondra un buen fuego en la chimenea, le envioeste papel para que
lo encienda. »
El primer vapor.
El primer barco que hizo la travesia del Atlântico sirviéndosc del
vapor, fué el inglés Savannah, (|ue se estrenô en el ano de 1811). En su
origen era de vêla, y después se colocaron dos grandes ruedas movidas
por el vapor, y destinadas, no â substituir, sino à secundar la fuerza del
viento.
Este vaporcito recorria â la mayor velocidad cinco nudos por hora ; de
modo que si ahora anduviese por los mares, solamente harîa 1 200
kilûmelros en las ciento veintiocho horas que emplea el coloso de los
mares, el Lusiian'ut, en recorrer la travesia compléta de 5 870.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 20.
20 Jaillet 1908.
8» Année.
PARTE ESPANOLA
Los que fueron.
Don José Zorrilla.
Alguien ha dicho que la sonora y Jjrillante lira castellana ha enmiide-
cido para siempre y que la poesi'a espafiola ha muerto. ...
Si eso fuesecierto, que no lo es, precisarîa labrarle* una tumba monu-
mental, y al borde de ella colocar la estatua de Don José Zorrilla.
i Zorrilla ! Nombre mâgico y magnifico que al pronunciarlo tan sûlo
llena los ojos de airosas capas, sombreros
con plumas y cintillos de diamantes, caba-
lleros cortesanos vestidos con terciopelos y
arminos, caudillos - moros, castillos feu-
dales, relucientes espadas, mansiones ■
arabes, lloridos cârmenesS umbrosos pen-
siles % fastuosos festines y convento.s me-
dioevales.
El cantor que con inspiraciûn sublime
ha inmortalizado las leyendas y las tradi-
ciones patrias, es el ûnico que ha sabido
evocar con justeza la Espana Caballeresca,
la Espana que merced a sus esforzados
hijos domino al mundo entero.
Nacido en Yalladolid y educado en el
seiK) de noble familia, Zorrilla, siendo
muy joven, fué enviado à Toledo con objeto de que estudiase la carrera
a que sus padres le destinaban. Pero, una vez en la Impérial ciu-
dad, asistiô poco â las aulas '' y en cambio se extasiô an te las bellezas de
la catedral y se embriagô con el ambiente artîstico que en Toledo se res-
pira.
Y rompiû con su familia ; solo y sin recursos se fué â Madrid, y en
Madrid su vida fué la vida precaria y triste del poeta que carece de recur-
sos para atender â sus necedidades materiales.
Sus primeros versos son tristes y pesimistas : su musa, rebelde y esquiva,
le obedece raras veces, y su primera labor se arrastra penosamente, sin
brillo y sin inspiraciôn.
Cuanto produce es artificioso y recuerda las tlores de trapo y de alam-
bre, pero el tiempo pasa, el poeta se forma, y un dia, después de visitar
Don -losé Zorrilla.
1. Construirle. — 2. Jefes de ejército. — 3. Moradas. — 3. Quinta con huerto ù
jardin. — 4. Jardin delicioso. — 6. Salas de las Universidades dojide se ensena.
[117]
SSPAG. 20
154 PARTE espaSola [938]
el cadâver de Mariano José de Larra, se encierra en su buardilla y â la
liiz de una bujia compone los versos que empiezan :
Ese vago clamor que rasga el viento
Es el son funeral 'de la campana....
Vano remedo * del postrer'' lamento
De un cadàver sombrio y macilento
Oue en suclo polvo dormira manana.
Y esos versos recitados cou solemne y patética entonaci('»n por un joven
muy joven, casi un niùo, ante la abierta tumba del gran escritor, le con-
quistan desde aquel instante todas las simpatias.
Zorrilla sale de las sombras para colocarse en plena luz, y su musa, su
inspiraci()n, antes tristona y aniarga, se cambia en alegre y generosa.
y entonces escribe sus Rccuerdos de Toledo. La Catedral, El Punal
del Godo, Traidnr inconfeso y martir, y otras mil â cual mas brillante
hasta (jue en los ùltimos anos de su vida, casi al borde del sepulcro, com-
pone eselibro divino que titula Recuerdos del (iempo viejo . En este libro,
cou sinceridad adorable, con arte exquisito y con humildad y altivez al
mismo tiempo, nos dice al liablar de su propia obra :
Lo que hice, lo que dije, todo ese laberinto
De versos que concentran la existencia de mi ser,
De Dios son obra : un estro no puede baber distinto :
Yo obré y hablé sintiendo, y hablando por instinto,
Ni supe hacer màs que eso, ni pude màs hacer.
; Lo que supo y pudo hacer ! . . . La obra poética mâs admirable y mâs
grande que se puede imaginar ; la labor poética que le ha valido la
inmortalidad y con ella el merecido ti'tulo de rey de los poetas espanoles
del siglo diecinueve.
Sus obras le valieron una lortuna (pie dorrochû à manos llenas: cant(»
todo lo bueno, todo lo grande, todo lo noble que se puede encontrar en
la vida, y muriô pobre. . . .
Yerdad es que la gloria brilla màs (|ue el oro, y que Zorrilla, â pesar
de haber lenido mucho oro, todavia tuvo mâs gloria. Por que el oro se
le acab('), y su gloria sera eterna.
Carlos de Batlle.
7. Funerario. — 8. Imitaciôn. — 9. Ultimo.
Al ùltimo Rey de Granada.
Una ciudad riquisima, opulenta,
El orguUo y la prez ' del Mcdiodia,
Con regia pompa y majestad se asienta
En medio la feraz - Andalucia.
Y alli vierte su liuubrc el sol de Espafia
En hcbras de purisimos colores,
Y hrotan al calor con que la bana.
En vasla profusion, frutos y flores.
Alli cl aura sutil espira aromas,
1. Honor. —2. Férlil.
[939] PARTE eshaSola 155
Y la esfrcmoceii sobre cien jardines
Bandadas de diilcisinias palomas
Y pintado tropel de coloi'ines ■' .
El Darro y el Genil con lurbias olas
En su verde Ilanura sa den-aman,
Y â su confiii en playas espanolas
Del revolloso niar las ondas braman,
Mofa '' son sus alcâzares del viento,
Fatiga de los fastos sus memorias,
Sugrandeza y tesoros son sin cuento,
Y no se encuentra fin ;i sus historias.
Alli es el cielo azul y transparente,
Fresca la brisa, amiga la fortuna,
Fértil la tierra, y brilla elernamente
Sereno cl rojo sol, blanca la luna.
Y afrenta de las tierras mâs rcmotas '■'
Vénse alli, como en oti-o paraiso,
Los pomposos laureles del Eurotas
Y los hûmedos tilos del Pamiso.
Crecen alli las palmas del desierto,
De Cartago los frescos arrayanes '■,
Las canas del Jordan en son incierfo
Arrullan de Stambul los tiilipanes.
Y" entre pajizas y prenadas ' mieses
Las vides de Falerno alli se orean,
Y los de Jerlcô mnstios cipreces
Con los cedros del Libano cimbrean.
Y bay alli robustisimos nogales,
Lugubres sauces, altos mii'abeles,
Y olivos y granadosy morales
Cenidos de jacintos y claveles.
El zumo de sus vides deliciosas
Tal vez la alegre Italia envidiaria,
Y por sus anclias y fragantes ^ rosas
Sus rosas la trocara " Alejandria.
El jaspe, el oro, el màrmol, los cristales
Se ostentan en su espléndido recinto,
Y ansiaran sus recuerdos orientales
Los escombros de Atenas y Corinto.
Y no la iguala en lujo y en riqneza
La voluptuosa pompa del Oriente ;
Que entre flores y lânguida pereza
Vive tranquila su atezada gente.
José ZORRILLA.
3. Pàjaros. — 4. Burla. — 5. Lejanas. — 6. Arbusto. — 7. Llenas. — b. Perfuma-
das. — 9. Cambiara.
El Mono.
Apenas hubo llegado à la plaza, pûsose el cingaro a tocar una énorme.
pandera\ â cuyo bronco y desapacible son acudieron, como por obra de
ensalnio-, primero, los cbiquillos en abigarrada y cbilladora légion ; luego,
1. Pandereta. — 2. Encanto.
4^6 PARTE ESPANOLA |9401
las mujeres llevadas de su incurable curiosidad, y, por iillimo, los viejos,
que por sus lardas piernas à todas partes llegan los postreros^ si no es à la
tumba. Hecho, pues, anclio corro *, el cingaro — costal de bellaquerias y
almacén de andrajos, — sacando de su âspera garganta una voz tosca y
aguardcntosa^ réclamé un poco de silencio de la alborotada tui'ba, y lo
aprovechô para presentar al distinguido pûblico un mono que estaba acu-
rrucado juntoà él. Ténia eltal mamifero la cara de un color pardo claro ; sus
ojos brillaban vivaces â la sombra de negras cejas ; sus largas manos se ocu-
paban en la entretenida tarea de perseguir entre su ceniciento pelaje las
saltarinas pulgas, y su disforme rabo, en su oscilar de péndulo, azotaba sus
grisâceas zancas^, velludas y torcidas.
Empezô el espectâculo. Al desacorde son de la pandera tué mostrando el
mono todas sus raras habilidades. Hizose el muerto, para lo cual se tirô al
suelo, quedândose rigido é inmôvil ; luego resucito à la voz de su amo ;
diô saltos inverosimiles ; hizo grotescas cabriolas; convirtiô un palo en
fusil, demostrando ante los atônitos chiquillos que sabia la instrucciôn
mejor que el mâs avispado ' veterano, y, por ùltimo, cogiendo el grasiento
sombrero de su dueùo, empezô â postular de persona en persona, inclinan-
dose con cômica gravedad ante quien le echaba una tintineante moneda.
— i Dénie — decia el cingaro con voz quejumbrosa, — dénie, senores y
seûoras, lo que sea su voluntad ! j Miren, cristianos, que no tengo para pagar
posada ni alimento !
Con cuya doliente canturia huyôse la gentr lugareùa por miedo a que se
les ablandara el corazôn y tuvieran que arrancar à sus bolsillos unos mise-
ros céntimos, , .
En los sombrios ojos del cingaro fulgurù^ una llama de ira. En todas par-
tes le acontecia lo mismo. Cogiô el cuitado una raida'' alfombrilla que habia
extendido sobre los guijarros 'o, y contô los escasos céntimos de la colecta,
<]ue no llegarian à medio real. . .
Si triste y melancélico estaba cl cingaro, tampoco el pobre mono estaba
satisfecbo ni contento. Al verse en su misero estado actual, recordaba con
pena la ya muerta ventura de dias lejanos, cuando, indomito y libre, vagaba
por los bosques entre la lupida y verde urdimbre de los centenarios arboles
africanos. ; Que hermosa era aquella vida ! El campo le daba todo lo nece-
sario : alimento en los sabrosos frutos de los àrboles y arbustes; morada en
las frondas ; espejo en las tranquilas corrientes de los arroyos, y mûsica en
el murmurar de la brisa y en el regalado piar de los pajariilos. . . ; Y pensar
que todo lo dio por el ridiculo gusto de comer unas doradas mazorcas " de
maiz que, puestas de cebo, le hicieron caer en la maldita trampa ! Peco de
glotôn, y aquel aborrecido bocado amargo para siempre su existencia. . .
José A. LUENGO.
3. Ijltimos. — 4. Cirrulo. — 5. Ronca por el abuso del alcohol. — 6. Patas. — 7.
Vivo, agudo. — 8. Centelleô. — 9. Gastada, vieja. — 10. Piedras. — 11. Espiga densa
y apretada.
El Chocolaté.
Este producto debid empezarse â conocer en Espana alla por el afio de
1528, que filé cuando Hernân Cortés regresû de la conquista de Méjico.
Segùn testimonio de algunos de sus companeros, los mejicanos compo-
nfan una bebida, de la que hacian mucho consurao, aun cuando por su
aspecto y color nojuzgaban posible en un principio que la tolerasen sin
protesta los estûmagos europeos. En efecto, cuentan que en el chocolaté
[941
PARTE ESPANOLA
157
que tomaban los mejicanos entraban como lactores' importantes, aparté
del cacao tostado y la harina de maiz, la pimienta, el clavo, la vainilla y
otros ingredientes.
Se comprende que esta
mezcolanza no fuese del
agrado de los compane-
ros de Hernân Cortés,
quienes, sin embargo,
debieron comprender
que con la supresicm de
algunos elementos coni-
ponentes de la tal mez-
colanza, quedari'a una
bebida grata al paladar,
sana y alimenticia, y
poco â poco fueron eli-
minando las especias,
hasta que concluyeron
por no anadir al cacao
mâs que azûcar ô miel y
vainilla ô canela. Ya de
esta manera encontre'» eP
chocolaté grande acepta-
ci('>n en todas las clases
sociales de Espana, y,
por conducto de nuestros
soldados que continua-
mente guerreaban en Ita-
liay en Flandes,se exten-
diô su uso por Europa.
Es fama que los mejicanos empleaban e! cacao como moneda en sus
transacciones mercantiles, y asî daban cinco, diez «'» cien granos de ese
fruto â cambio del objeto ô materia que deseaban adquirir. V cuando
habi'a que retirar de la circulaciôn esta clase de moneda, la convertian
en chocolaté y se la comfan, con lo cual la pérdida experimentada en su
l'ortuna era menos sensible.
No se créa, sin embargo, que el chocolaté mereci(j siempre el concepto
en que se le tiene hoy. Lo emplearon al
principio como medicamento, atribuyéndole
una porciôn de virtudes curativas — lo reco-
mendaban para combatir los resfriados, pul-
monias, pleuresias, côlicos biliosos y el côlera
morbo, — v no hace muchos anos quedaban
Fruto del cacao. aùu rcstos de esta preocupaciôn en algunas
regiones de Espana, en dondese administraba
el chocolaté â los enfermos que estaban en trance ^ de muerte, habiendo
oido decir el que esto escribe, en mas de una ocasiôn : « El pobre Fulano
esta tan malito ^ queya le han dado el chocolaté ».
También le reconocian las gentes grandes principios nutritivos, asegu-
EI Cacao.
1. Elementos. — 2. Peligro. — .3. Enfermo.
158 PARTE E8PAN0LA [9421
rando que era cosa excelente para los que se dedican â los trabajos
intelectuales.
No dejô de tener detractores, aunque bien pocos en numéro y en
importancia, que atirmaron que era un aperitivo peligroso para estôma-
gos delicados y propio tan solo de los de los indios.
Por elano de 1664 hubo una polémica entre los médicos y los eclesiâs-
ticos. Estos sosteni'an que el chocolaté no quebranta el ayuno, por ser
un medicaniento, un compuesto industrial util y reconfortante para el
estômago. Les médicos, en cambio, decian que constitui'a un verdadero
alimento, y aseguraban que era mâs nutritivo que la lèche, por lo cual,
después de practicados minuciosos anâlisis, se inclinaban à reputarle
como contrario al ayuno. Por lin se resolviôel pleito, fallando que aunque
no puede negarse que el chocolaté alimenta, no por f llo quebranta el
ayuno, y comparaban este producto con el vino, que también sostiene y
fortilica.
Con escasa diferencia se fabrica hoy el chocolaté lo mismo ([ue hace
très siglos, aparté, como es natural, el perfeccionamiento que las maqui-
llas han alcanzado en nuestros dîas. Pero no hay que olvidar que en
muchos sitios se preliere ai'in el chocolaté elaborado â brazo, por mas
que la pasta que con esta fabricaci('»n se produce no sea tan lina como la
que sale de las mâquinas.
El chocolaté signe teniendo como base el cacao, que se tuesta y luego
se machaca, mezchîndolo con azùcar ; la pasta que résulta se perl'uma
con cacao 6 con vainilla, segûn los gustos, y se conserva en tabletas, que,
partidas en menudos pedazos, se diluyen en lèche ô en agua calientes.
Juan AiNTÔN.
El Gastellano viejo {Conclusion.)
A lodo esto, el niùo (pic k mi izquierda tenia, hacia saltcu- las aceitunas à
un plato de magras con tomate, y una vino à parar a uno de mis ojos, (juc
no volviô à ver claro en todo cl dia ; y el seùor gordo de mi derecha habia
tenido la precauciôn de ir dejando en el niantel, al lado de mi pan, los huc-
sos de las suyas, y lo-s de las aves que hahia roido ; el convidado de enlrentc,
que se preciaba de pinchador, se habia encargado de hacer la autopsia de un
capôn, 6 sea gallo, que esto nunca se supo ; fuese por la edad avanzada de
la victima, fuese por los ningunos conocimientos anatômicos del victimario,
jamâs parecieron las coyuntiiras. — Este capôn no ticne coyunturas,
exclamaba el infeliz sudando y forcejeando, mâs como quien cava que
como quien trincha. ; Cosa mas rara ! En una de las embestidas resbalo
el tenedor sobre el animal como si tuviera escama, y el capôn violenta-
mente despedido, parecio querer tomar su vuelo como en sus tiempos
mâs felices, y se puso en el mantel tranquilamente como pudiera en nn palo
de un gallinero.
El susto fué gênerai y la alarma llegù à su cohno cuando un siirtidor de
caldo, impulsado por el animal furioso, saUVi à inimdar mi limpisima ca-
misa : levàntase râpidamente â este punto el trinchador con animo de cazar
el ave profnga, y al ])recipitarse sobre ella, una botclla que tiene à la derecha,
con la que Iropiezasu brazo, abandonandosu posicionperpendicular, derrama
un abuudante cano de Valdepenas sobre el capon y el mantel ; corre el vino,
[943] PARTE ESPA>OLA io9
aiiméntase la algazara, lluexe la sal solire el vino para salvar el mantel, para
salvar la mesa se ingiere " por debajo de él iina servilleta, y una eminencia
se levanta sobre el teatro de tantas ruinas. Una criada toda azorada retira el
capôn en el plato de su salsa ; al pasar sobre mi hace una pequefia inclina-
ciôn, y una lluvia malética de grasa desciende, como elrocio sobre los prados,
à dejar eternas huellas en mi pantalon, color de perla ; la angustia y el atur-
dimiento de la criada no conoce término ; retirase alolondrada sin acertar
con las excusas ; al volverse tropieza con el criado que traia una docena de
plalos limpiosy una salvilla '- con las copas para los vinos generosos, y toda
a(iiiella mâquina viene al suelo con el màs horroroso estruendo y confiisi()n.
— ; Por San Pedro ! exclama dando una voz Braulio, difundida va sobre sus
facciones una palidez mortal, al paso que brota fuego del rostro de su esposa.
— Pero sigamos, senores, no ha sido nada, aûade volviendo en si.
; Oh honradas casas, donde un modesto cocido y un principio final consti-
tuyen la t'elicidad diaria de una familia, huid del tumulto de un convile de
dias ! Solo las costumbres de comer y servirse bien diariamente puede evitar
semejantes destrozos.
^. Haymàs desgracia? jSantocielo ! j Si las hay para mi, infeliz! Doua Juana,
la de los dientes negros y amarillos, me alarga de su plato y con su propio
tenedor una fineza, que es indispensable aceptar y tragar ; el nino se divierte
en despedir â los ojos de los concurrentes los huesos disparados de las ce-
rezas ; Don Leandro me hace probar el manzanilla exquisito que he reusado,
en su misma copa, que conserva las indelebles seùales de sus labios grasien-
tos ; mi gordo l'uma ya sin césar y me hace canon de su chimenea ; por fin,
[ oh l'iltima de las desgracias ! crece el alboroto y la conversacion ; roncas ya
las voces piden versos y décimas, y no hay mâs poetas que Figaro. — Es pre-
ciso. — Tiene usted que decir algo. — Désele pie forzado ; que diga una copl.i
â cada uno. — Yo le daré el pie : A Do i Braulio en este dia. — ; Senores pur
Dios ! — No hay remedio. — En mi vida he improvisado. — No se haga
usted elchiquito. — Me marcharé. — Cerrar la puerta. — No se sale deaqui
sin decir algo. Y digo versos por tin, y voniito disparates, y los celebran, y
crece la l)ulla''' y el humo y el infierno.
A Dios gracias, logro oscaparme de aquel nuevo Pandemonio. Por tîn, ya
respiro el aire fresco y desembarazado de la calle ; ya no hay necios, ya no
hay castellanos viejosâ mi alrcdedor.
i Santo Dios 1 Yo te doy gracias^ exclamo respirando, como el ciervo que
acaba de escaparse de una docena de perros, y que oye ya apenas sus ladri-
dos ; para de aqui en adelante no te pido riquezas, no te pido empleos, ni
honores, libramc de los convites caseros y de dias de dlas ; librame de estas
casas en que es un convite un acontecimiento, en que solo se pone la mesa
décente para los convidados ; en que creen hacer obsequios cuando dan mor-
titicaciones ; en que se hacen finezas, en que se dicen versos ; en que hay
nifios; en que hay gordos ; en que reina en fin la brutal franqueza de los
castellanos viejos. Quiero que si caigo de nuevo en tentaciones semejantes me
faite un roastbeef, desa|)arezca del mundo el beet'steck', so anonaden los
timbales de macarrones, no haya pavos en Perigueux, ni pasteles en Peri-
gord, se sequen los vinedos de Burdeos, y beban en tin, todos, menos yo,
la deliciosa espuma del champana.
Concluida mi deprecacion mental, corro â mi hahitaciôn â despojarme de
mi camisa y de mi pantalon, reflexionando en mi interior que no son unos
todos los hombres, puesto que los de un mismo pais, acaso de un mismo
entendimiento, no tienen las mismas costumbres, ni la misma delicadeza,
cuando ven las cosas de tan distinta manera. Vistome y vuelvo à olvidar tan
l'unesto dia entre el corto numéro de gentes que piensan que viven sujetas
al provechoso yugo de una buena educaciôn libre y desembarazada, y que
11. Mete, coloca. — 12. Bandeja especial para copas û vasos. — 13. Barullo, ruido.
160 PARTB bspaSola [944]
tinjen acaso estimarse y respetarse mutuamente para no incomodarsc 'S al
paso que las otras hacen ostentaciôn de incomodarse, y se ofenden y se
maltratan, queriéndoso y estimândose tal vcz verdaderaniente.
Mariano José de Larra.
(Figaro.)
14. Molestarse.
Los abedules del camino *.
Pero, a ])ios gracias, la primavera también puede reinar en pleno
otofio. Contémplense en los bosques a los apretados abedules ; se disponen
a descansar durante esta larga noche de invierno, satisfechos de su vida
del verano, y cuando el invierno haya pasado esperarân el aire mas suave,
el sol mâs espléndido, el canto mas majestuoso que el aullido del viento
de otono y despertarân à vida nueva y â nuevas energias. V esta es su
vida ; paso incesante del nacimiento â la desapariciùn, de la vida a la
muerte.
Y nosotros, nosotros que con l'recuencia somos ingrates cuando el des-
tine coloca un obstâculo en nuestro camino, nosotros que nos quejamos
de los designios de la Providencia y le hacemos frente, nosotros que, obe-
deciendo â principios dictados por el orgullo queremos crear una vida
mejor, <; que pensamientos tenemos ?
La promesa de primavera y de resurrecci(jn después del otono de la
vida y el invierno de la tumba, esta promesa que ha sentado sus reaies en
nuestros corazones, ^, no es mâs juiciosa y reconl'ortante que la <|ue se ha
hecho â las otras criaturas en el reino de la Naturaleza ? ^: No tenemos el
don de poder agruparnos como los abedules de los bosques para caminar
unidos y contiados en la amistad por los senderos de la vida ? V ese don,
^no es mas precioso que otras muchas cosas cuyo precio es inestimable à
los ojos de aquellos que tienen apego al mundo ? i Por que desesperar ?
La primavera, después del invierno de la tumba, no pasarà nunca para
nosotros por que es eterna éimperecedera. Es la mâs maravillosa de todas
las primaveras terrestres. Dios sera el sol, y nosotros seremos los ângeles.
(1 Por que las amistades sentidas aquî abajo no habrân de subsistir alla
arriba ? ^, Por que no créer que han de ser mâs fuertes que aqui abajo ? Si,
la amistad que ha unido â los hombres durante el tiempoque han vivido
y trabajado y que por dilerentes caminos han perseguido el mismo tin,
subsistirâ aûn una vez conseguido el lin anhelado y ella nos seguirâ en la
eterna primavera, en la mâs hermosa manana de primavera, al son do
cantosprimaverales mâs espléndidos todavia, y ella sera el mejor recuerdo
que tendremos de una vida terrestre desvanecida y de un otono helado.
{Fin.)
* Véanse las otras cuatro partes.
INDICE
PARTE ESPANOLA
Actualidades .
Paginas.
Inuiidaciôn en Màlaga.
(J. SÂNCHEz Esteban) .... 17
Einilio Ferrari 33
Hojcando un libro.
(Carlos DE Batlle) 41
P. Luis Coloma.
(Carlos DE batlle) 81
Articulos en cinco leuguas.
Las très canciones.
(Uhland) 7
A la luna.
(G. Leopardi) 16
El pohre y el rico.
(Hermanos Grimm) . . 23,31,38
Sarah Bernhardt y Edison.
(Sarah Bernhardt) 46
El avaro.
(Lessing) 55
El Emperador Francisco José. 63
La muerte de un héroe.
(Friederich Werner van Oes-
téren). 71, 80, 87, 95, 102, 111
La almohada de la condesa.
(PlETRO MaRONCELLI) .... 119
Goethe.
(Emerson) .... 127, 136, 144
Los abedules del camino.
(Rey Oscar) 151, 160
Curiosidades. 32, 40, 48, 56, 64,
104, 120, 128, 152.
Geograiia .
La Geografia.
(J. M. deJovellanos). ... 49
Historia .
La toma de ïetuan.
(G. NuNEz de arce) .
Paginas.
2 12 24
26, 35.
Amadeo de Saboya.
(Pi Y Margall) 4
Las Cortes de Castilla.
(Alcalâ Galiano) 26
De como elrey Fernando puso
.sitio à Granada.
(Martinez de la Rosa). . 60, 67
Fuego del Real.
(MARlixEZ DE LA Rosa) . . 93, 98
Fundaciôn de Santa Fe.
(Martinez de la Rosa) . . . 106
Entra Gonzalo de Côrdoba en
Granada.
(Martinez de la Rosa) . 113, 121
Los hebreos en la Penînsula
Ibérica.
(.Amador de LOS Rios). . . . 118
Literatura.
Prosa .
Aiicante.
(Carlos de Batlle) 1
Fin de mes.
(A. Larrubiera). ... 7, 15, 22
Desdichas Providenciales.
(EncENio Sellés) 9
El ami go mar.
(J. M. Salaverria] 11
Tio Narciso.
(DocTOR Tiiebussem) 13
162
PARTE ESPANULA
[946]
Paginas.
La Misa de los muerlos.
(J. M. DE Sabando) 19
La pata de palo.
(.1. DE Esprongeda) 28
El aguinaldo.
(Mesonero Romanos). . . 36, 43
Tardes de invierno.
(Pi Y Margall). . 44, 51, 57, 68.
75, 82, 91
La chiquita y la grandullona.
(Ortega Mcnilla) 53
La casilla del perro.
(Bamos Carkiôn) . . . 6"), 78, 85
La ruta del Lazarillo.
(MARTiNEzRuiz) 89
La cocina.
(V. COLCHERO) 97
Dos artistas
(J. Arzadun) 122
La opinion pûblica,
(A. Larrubiera) 132
El tiempo al rêvés.
(J.Echegaray) 138
El castellano viejo.
(M. J. DE Larra) . . 142, 149, 158
Don José Zorrilla.
(Carlos de Batlle) 153
Versos.
La codorniz.
(Samamego) 16
De mi libro.
(Marîa del p. Contreras). . 25
El Escorial.
(A. Grilo) 28
El grajo vano. Fabula
(Samaniego) 32
Simbolo.
(E. Ferrari) 33
Dos hadas.
(R. Côrdoba) 39
Pobre abuelita.
(Blanco Belmonte) 42
El cohele.
(A. (^.RiLo) 48
Crepûsculo.
(R. de Côrdoba) 48
Cantar.
(R. Catarineu) 70
Lo misnio da.
(F. SANMARTiN) 71
Epigrama.
(R. FONTSERÉ) 84
El Miércoles de Ceniza.
(F. Zea) 85
Paginas.
La mano derecha y la izquierda
(M. A. Principe") 90
El sol y la noche.
(A. LoPEz de Ayala) .... 95
Esperanza.
(J. M. Villegas) 9ô
Las vacas.
(S. RUEDA). 102
Las hojas.
(M. del Palacio) 108
Flores.
(Blanco Belmonte) ..... 112
Epigrama.
(.1. M. Villegas) 120
Las golondrinas.
(R. Sepûlveda) 124
Pensamiento.
(SÂNCHEZ de Castilla). . . . 128
Inmortalidad.
(J. M. DE Heredia) 146
Flores de liiz.
(Blanco Belmoîste) 147
Al ûltimo Rey dodranada (.losÉ
Zorrilla) 154
Variedades
El trabajo del periodisla.
(.ïosÉ Echegaray) 34
Aventuras de caza.
Wells) 62
Frases hechas 72, 80, 96
Cosas de Africa.
(.1. DR LA CORTE) 73
El Toison de oro y la légion de
Honor.
(.1. PÉREZ DE GuZMÂn) . 100, 100
El atrio de Sanla Maria de
Caspe.
(E. Sedan'O) 105
Los chambergos de Squilace.
(A. Pérez Nieva) 115
Ires monumentos nacionales.
(B. DE LA Vega) . . 125, 129, 137
La Religion.
(Rios RosAs) 141
El archive de Simancas.
(G. M) 145
Frases Histôricas.
(F. Soldevilla) 146
El tabaco.
(.lu AN A.Nï()N) 148
El Mono (J. B. Luengo). ... 155
El ehoeolate (Juan A?<tôn) . . 156
[947,
INDICE
163
Grabados.
Paginas
Alicante à vista de pâjaro.
Alicante : El Ayuntamienlo
El hombre era regalon.
Casas de la Pescaderia.
Maria del Pilar Contreras
Emilio Ferrari
M. R. Blanco Bel monte
Phyllopteryx
Caballito de mar. . .
Me preguntas
La casilla de) perro . .
Una calle de Argel. . .
1
2
9
17
25
34
41
56
56
57
65
73
Paginas.
P. Luis Coloma 81
Lazarillo en la posada. . . 89
La vida de la casa 97
Santa Maria de Caspe. . . 105
San Antonio de la Florida. . 126
Castillo de Loarre 129
Torre de San Martin 137
Castillo de Siniancas 151
El tabaco 148
Don José Zorrilla 153
El cacao 157
Frtito del cacao 157
Les Cinq Langues
N» 1. 5 Octobre 19U7. 8- Annéa.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
Pour et contre Rousseau.
On a beaucoup parlé de Rousseau celle année, enlre le mois de mars et le mois de
juin. M. Jules Lemaîtrea donné une série de conférences, très suivies et très applau-
dies, où, tout en rendant justice au génie littéraire du grand homme, il a fort malmené
ses idées et ses œuvres. Voici quelle a été sa conclusion :
Ce n'est pas seulenienl le poète lyrique dont Rousseau trace le portrait dans
ses lettres à M. de ^lalesherbes, c'est encore, avec le rêveur ivre et engourdi de
songes', le solitaire orgueilleux, l'autodidacte- outrecuidant, l'indiscipliné, le
révolutionnaire par instinct^, l'insociabie cjui réforme tous les jours la société,
l'homme qui date tout de lui, qui ramène tout à lui et subordonne tout à son
rêve ou à son caprice, qui fait à chaque instant table rase de toute l'œuvre
humaine "^
J'ai adoré le romantisme et j'ai cru à la Révolution. Et maintenant je songe
avec inquiétude que l'homme cjui, non tout seul assurément, mais plus qvie
personne, je crois, se trouve avoir fait chez nous ou préparé la Révolution et le
romantisme, fut un étranger >>, un perpétuel malade et finalement un fou.
Mais on l'a aimé. Et beaucoup l'aimont encoie, les uns parce qu'il est un
maître d'illusions g et un apôtre de l'absurde ; les autres parce qu'il fut, entre
les écrivains illustres, une créature de nerfs, de faiblesse, de passion, de péché,
de douleur et de rêve. Et moi-même, n'étant chargé que de ma propre conduite
et non des destinées de la France et du monde, je veux — après cette longue fré-
quentation dont j'ai tiré plus d'un plaisir — le quitter sans haine pour sa per-
sonne, — avec la plus vive réprobation pour celles de ses idées qui ont triomphé,
l'admiration la plus vraie pour son art qui fut si étrangement nouveau, la plus
grande pilié pour sa pauvre vie — et une horreur sacrée (au sens latin du mot)
devant la fatale grandeur de son action sur les hommes.
Peu de temps après la dernière de ces conférences, eut lieu dans le grand amptiilhéàtre
de la Sorbonne une solennité où Ton justifla et défendit Rousseau : MM. Ernest Charles
et PainlcAé parlèrent, et fort bien. Voici comme termina M. Painlevc :
Il avait reconnu « tout ce qu'il y a de simpliste'', de factice, de contradictoire
dans les constructions théoriques de Rousseau ».
Mais, dit-il, de telles œuvres ne doivent pas être discutées comme des dogmes,
elles doivent être considérées dans leur tendance. L'œuvre de Rousseau n'est
qu'une aspiration vers la justice, ou mieux encore une protestation contre l'in-
justice, contre toutes les tyrannies, quelque forme qu'elles revêtent, politique
ou économique. C'est pourquoi cette œuvre a une portée universelle ; car l'in-
justice produit les mêmes effets toujours et partout. La plainte d'un être
humain que la société prend depuis son enfance jusqu'à sa mort pour lui
I. faisant des rêves qui engourdissent son esprit. — 2. celui (/ni s'est instruit tout seul,
sans maître. — 3. naturellement révolutionnaire. — U. qui ne fait aucun cas de ce que l'huma-
nité a créé avant lui. — 5. Rousseau était Genevois. — li. il enseigne l'illusion. — 7. trop
simplifié.
[4] FRANC. 1
Partie française [26]
balancer les bras au-dessus d'un niélier ** ou d un piston est la même, en quel-
que langue qu'elle s'exprime. Tant que des sociétés existeront où, sous une
forme plus ou moins hypocrite, la loi sera au service du plus fort, l'appel de
Rousseau sera entendu pour susciter à la justice des héros et des vengeurs.
Enfin, après la manifestation de la Sorbonne, il yen eut une autre. Sous la présidence
de M. Buisson, député de Paris, M. Boitel, professeur d'École primaire supérieure',
défendit à son tour l'auteur du Contrat social. Voici un extrait et la fin de son plaidoyer :
Rousseau n'écrit pas de sang-froid, mais sous l'impulsion du sentiment. Il ne
se considère pas comme un écrivain de profession, mais comme un apôtre
appelé à faire triomjîher une bonne cause. Ses pages les plus émues sont des
Iilaidoyers où il veut prouver et convaincre ; aussi emploie-t-il souvent l'inter-
rogation et l'exclamation, comme s'il se trouvait en face d'un adversaire. Il ne
plaisante jamais ; la gravité du ton, chez lui, concorde avec le sérieux de la
pensée ; il y a, en lui, du prophète, dit Saint-Marc Girardin : il ne veut pas seu-
lement être lu, il veut être cru. On sait, du reste, qu'il y a réussi et c'est ce qui
explicjue cette foi, cette espèce de dévotion qu'affectaient tous ses partisans. . .
En résumé, Rousseau plut à la noblesse en lui montrant le chemin du vrai,
du seul bonheur sur la terre ; la richesse n'est rien, si le cœur n'est bon, affec-
tueux et aimant. Pourquoi être riche si l'on n'est pas pitoyable au pauvre ?
pourquoi s'étourdir dans les plaisirs et les fêtes ? pourquoi étouffer le réel sous
le factice ? pourquoi ne pas obéir à la nature qui procure à notre esprit les plus
douces jouissances et à notre cœur le calme dont il a besoin ?
La noblesse se laissa subjuguer; elle ne craignit pas de descendre, parce
qu'elle croyait pouvoir remonter (juand bon lui semblerait ; les idées généreuses
de liberté et d'égalité lui faisaient goûter, dit un écrivain noble, les avantages
du patriciat'" et les douceurs d'une philosophie plébéienne.
La petite bourgeoisie sut gré à Rousseau de l'honneur qu'il lui faisait en lui
trouvant plus de vertus qu'elle n'en possédait peut-être ; elle fui flattée de voir
relever la médiocrité de la vie bourgeoise ; elle admira le courage cjue cet écri-
vain montrait, lui le premier, à parler avec respect de l'atelier et du travail
manuel et elle l'acclama comme l'apôtre de la démocratie, ce qu'il sera vérila-
blement trente ans plus tard.
Tous enfin furent surpris et charmés par son style, par l'ampleur et la force
qu'il redonnait à notre langue, par le tour oratoire, par l'expression propre et
pittoresque qu'il retrouvait en quelque sorte. Aussi conclurons-nous par ces
mots de Villemain : a Sa parole, puissante comme le glaive et le feu, agitait les
âmes de ses contemporains. »
8. sens propre : machine pour tisser. — 9. École intermédiaire entre l'école primaire
et l'enseignement secondaire. — lo. la noblesse.
L'île d'Ouessant.
Ouessant apparaît comme un immense rocher recouvert d'une mince cou-
che de terre plus ou moins épaisse suivant que les plis du rocher la protègent
plus ou moins contre le vent. Cette terre, arrosée sans cesse par les pluies et
par la brume, est fertile. Elle porte des champs de blé, de seigle, d'avoine; les
légumes y poussent bien ; on y aurait des fleurs dans les endroits abrités.
Mais les habitants d'Ouessant s'occupent peu d'agriculture et de la façon la
plus primitive. Aussi, la plus grande partie du sol est-elle couverte de prés ras*
où paissent, deux par deux, attachés à une corde, des petits moutons très sau-
I. à l'herbe Ir'cs courte.
'271 PARTIE FRANÇAISE
vages, d'une race spéciale à l'ilc, ciu'on laisse dehors jour et nuit toute l'année.
Il n'y a pas d'arbres à Ouessant. Le vent ne leur ijermettrait pas d'élever la
tête sur cette île où il règne en maître. Mais ils sont remplacés par la plus ex-
Iraordinaire végétation de pierres que l'on puisse imaginer. Tout autour de
l'île, les falaises entassent des blocs de rochers énormes que l'eau, patiemment,
a sculptés en mille formes bizarres. Rien n'est plus impressionnant que la
descente de ces rochers vers la mer ennemie. On dirait des guerriers énormes à la
face tailladée, sillonnée de profondes balafres noircies. Ils n'ont plus figure
humaine. Ils sont déchiquetés, mais ils se serrent les uns contre les autres ;
ils ne veulent point mourir ; ils continuent à opposer de robustes poitrines
à l'adversaire^. Ils restent âpres, sévères, impassibles sous leurs blessures ;
parfois, lorsque la mer se précipite sur eux et entre dans leuis cavernes, on
entend de longs gémissements comme d'un géant blessé. Ils sont les gardiens
de l'île ; ils le .savent. Jusqu'au jour fatal de la mort qui viendra à son heure,
dans mille ou cent mille ans, ils feront leur devoir de bons rochers protecteurs
des champs, des blés, des maisons et du sourire des jeunes filles qui jouent
derrière leur rempart.
Les rochers d'Ouessant, comment les décrire? Ici, ce sont des falaises immenses
qui tombent d'un seul trait ^ dans l'eau ; là, les prés eux-mêmes sont
pleins de rochers énormes que la mer un jour de furie a portés jusque-là,
puis elle s'est retirée et n'est jamais revenue. Un gazon ras et fin semé de ser-
polet, de thym, de menthe, entoure les blocs entassés. Ailleurs, c'est, face à la
mer, une confusion inextricable de pointes, d'aiguilles, d'arêtes vives, un amon-
cellement de pierres tel qu'il semble que des géants les aient arrangées ainsi
pour servir d'imprenables bastions à leur fort. Au nord de l'île, on ne peut
s'emijècher de croire qu'une main cent mille fois plus puissante que celle de
l'homme a disposé ces assises formidables suivant le goût d'une esthétique lita-
nique ^. Puis, des baies se creusent avec une ceinture de falaises et, au milieu
même des falaises coupées dans le roc, sont de petites anses de sable fin. A l'est,
la baie du StifF, avec ses grandes bandes gazonnées qui arrivent en pente
rapide jusqu'aux rochers plongeant dans l'eau, semble un fiord norvégien . On
se promène sans lassitude le long de ces rives déchirées dont les aspects inces-
samment divers étonnent et ravissent l'œil. Les jeux du soleil et de l'ombre,
le va-et-vient des vagues, les franges d'écume qui couvrent les rochers, les
mille bruits des vagues suf les pierres, la montée ou la descente lente de la
mer captivent pendant des heures l'attention et l'emmènent loin des vaines
préoccupations qui nous assiègent au cœur étouffant des villes
Je me suis promené le long des chemins, car, de routes, il n'y en a pas. Ce
pays a été plus habité qu'il ne l'est. Pourtant, il est encore couvert de petites
maisons basses, solidement construites en pierres de taille et crépies à la chaux.
Elles sont disséminées un peu partout par groupes de trois ou quatre. On en
voit peu d'isolées, comme si les hommes avaient eu peur de la solitude pen-
dant les longues nuits d'hiver quand la mer est mauvaise et que le vent court
comme un fou sur la lande. Une petite cour murée s'étend devant la maison.
La Bretagne est le pays des murs. On y entoure de murs des bouts de terre im-
productifs, sans valeur. C'est le signe visible de la propriété dont l'instinct est
fortement ancré au cœur du paysan.
Partout aussi on voit de pauvres moulins, au corps noir, aux ailes grises
qui ne tournent que quelques heures par jour.
L'île entière en ce mois d'août est rousse des moissons que l'on rentre, des
prés brûlés par le soleil et par l'eau de mer. La lumière tamisée par les va-
peurs d'eau impalpables qui montent de la surface de l'océan est blonde, douce,
légère infiniment». Claude A^E^.
2. à ia mer.— 3. à pic. — 4. d'une beanlé presque monstrueuse, telle que des Titans
semblent l'avoir conçue. — 5. Extrait d'un bel article paru dans le Gil Dlas.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE [28]
Un citoyen utile.
« Monsieur, vous vous trompez ; el, quand je dis que vous vous trompez,
cela est vrai. J'ai la prétention en effet d'être un joueur de manille ' ». — Ainsi
parle un vieux monsieur grisonnant à un de ses partenaires assis en face de
lui à une table de café, devant un tapis où s'étalent des cartes. Sa voix est
hautaine, un peu ironique ; on sent que le jeu en question n'a plus de secrets
pour le possesseur d'une voix pareille, que ce n'est pas le ton d'un simple
amateur, mais celui d'un maître, d'un pontife de la manille. Aussi n'y a-t-il
pas de réponse, et la partie continue.
Le monsieur grisonnant est en effet d'une force supérieure. Toutes les
finesses, il les connaît ; toutes les ruses, il les déjoue ; au contraire ses ruses à
lui réussissent toujours. C'est pourquoi il est souvent consulté par d'autres
joueurs dans les cas embarrassants, el ses décisions font loi -.
D'où lui est venue cette autorité indiscutée? Sans doute, bien doué, il avait
des aptitudes naturelles : mais il les a perfeclionnées par une pratique cons-
tante, une assiduité inlassable, une gravité telle qu'un savant dans son labo-
ratoire, un diplomate à un congrès, un enfant en train de faire manœuvrer
une locomotive mécanique, apportent moins d'attention à leur délicate beso-
gne. Et il a d'autant plus de mérite que des accidents fâcheux lui ont nui et
qu'il a triomphé à la fois des hommes et des choses.
Ainsi le café où il avait fait ses premières armes ^, où, pour la première fois
il s'était assis, novice, parmi de vieux routiers * ; le café où, vingt années
durant, dès son entrée, avant qu'il eût dit un mol ou fait un geste, le garçon
lui apportait sa pipe, un verre plein, un lapis et vm jeu de cartes ; ce café avait
•été fermé par la mort du propriétaire. 11 avait fallu errer longtemps par les
rues, comme un chien sans maître, à la recherche d'un autre établissement ^
convenable. Dix ans après, ce second abri lui avait été ravi misérablement par
une faillite, et il avait fallu en chercher un troisième. . . Tristes souvenirs ! oh !
les longues journées, les longues soirées, sans but, sans joie, sans cartes et
sans bock !
Et puis ses partenaires ont souvent changé. Les uns ne sont plus ■' ; d'autres
ont émigré en de lointains quartiers ; des malheureux, ruinés pour avoir tra-
vaillé trop avec lui et pas assez chez eux, ont subitement disparu : de cela
il s'est consolé, résigné à l'inévitable. Mais certains lui ont navré le cœur : des
sots ont abandonné le café définitivement pour de vaines occupations comme
l'éducation de leurs enfants ou la surveillance de leur commerce ; des ingrats à
qui il avait donné d'érudites leçons ont laissé la manille pour le piquet '' ou le
billard ; des malotrus avec qui il avait joué tout un hiver l'ont traité de vieux
crétin au cours d'une discussion siu- un coup douteux. Et il regrette souvent
d'avoir accordé son estime à des gens qui ne la méritaient pas.
Enfin il a trouvé le port : une salle paisible, fréquentée par des habitués qui
appellent le garçon par son prénom et à qui la dame du comptoir demande
des nouvelles. Ses partenaires sont des hommes mûrs, sérieux, incapables de
rester dans leur famille et qu'il est toujours sûr de rencontrer soit à l'heure où
il mélange le kirsch et le sirop de grenadine, soit à celle où il unit le vermouth
au curaçao. 11 est respecté de ces bons citoyens. Ses conseils sont appréciés.
Ses plaisanteries, quoique toujours les mêmes, soulèvent toujours des rires
flatteurs. Et la vie lui est douce.
Cependant, par faiblesse humaine, il aime à vanter le passé. 11 évoque des
époques héroïques où l'on ne quittait pas le café, même pour manger et pour
1. Jeu qui se joue à 4 personnes; la carte qui a la plus grande valeur est le lO,
qu'on appelle la manille. — a. sont r'espectées comme une loi. — 3. i/ avait débuté. —
h ■ joueur novice parmi des joueurs expérimentés. — 5. café. — 6. sont morts. — 7. autre
jeu de cartes .
[29]
PAKTIE FRANÇAISE
dormir, où on gagnait d'innombrables parties sans atouts, avec de mauvaises
cartes, où les joueurs étaient plus savants et plus redoutables qu'aujourd'hui.
C'est un patriarche qui parle ; tous l'écoutent avec déférence, ceux qui jouent
et ceux qui regardent, le capitaine l'ctraité, l'épicier du coin, et le garçon lui-
même au plastron éblouissant.
Cette félicité sera-t-elle éternelle ? Il est des jouzs où des appréhensions l'as-
sombrissent **. Son café ne peut-il pas disparaître et sa compagnie se disper-
ser ? Et puis il n'y a pas de jeunes gens autour de lui : la manille peidrait-elle
de sa vogue ? Viendra-t il un temps où dans les cafés inondés de lumièie, à
côté des liquides multicolores, personne ne s'en souciera jdIus ? Alors, que de-
venir? Sans ce jeu, qu'est-ce que l'existence ? Et cette pensée fait frissonner le
vieux monsieur grisonnant : il songe aux ténèbres de la barbarie et à la fin
du monde.
Max Jasinski.
8. l\ittrhlent.
La Morue.
Le peintre Corot donnait deux dîners de douze couverts ' par an. C'était
un rare honneur qu'y être convié. Et chaque fois, le potage fini, venait
une morue aux pommes de terre.
« Délicieux ! » s'écriait le maître. Et
tous, pour lui faire plaisir, répé-
taient : « Délicieux ! »
Lorsque Corot s'en allait à son tour
diner chez ses amis, Daumier, Barye
ou Guillemet-, il retrouvait chez eux,
qui voulaient le régaler, l'éternelle
morue aux pommes de terre. A la
longue, Corot s'en aperçut. Un soir, à
table, chez Daubigny\ il ne put s'em-
pêcher de dire :
— Mais vous aimez donc tous beau-
coup la morue aux pommes de terre ?
Daubigny s'écria :
— Moi, je l'exècre.
Et Daumier dit :
— Moi, je la déteste. C'est uniquement pour vous plaire, maître, qu'on
sert ce plat.
Et Corot répondit avec candeur :
— Elle me répugne autant qu'à vous. Mais ma vieille cuisinière raffole
delà morue, et je n'ose pas la contrarier...
Et voilà pourquoi de grands peintres, il y a quarante ans, mangeaient
une fois par mois, à contre-cœur, de la morue aux pommes de terre.
{Le diable boiteux.)
J.-B. Corot.
I. de doa:e personnes. — 2. Célèbres artistes : le premier, caricaturiste ; le second,
sculpteur animalier ; le troisième, peintre orientaliste. — 3. grand paysagiste.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE [30]
Les trois chansons *
Dans la grand'salle siégeait le roi Sifrid :
« Harpistes, qui de vous me dira la plus belle chanson ? »
Et un jeune lionnme fendit rapidement la foule,
La harpe à la main, l'épée au côté.
« Je sais trois chansons ; la première.
Tu l'as sans doute depuis longtemps oubliée :
Traîtreusement tu as tué mon frère.
Oui, tu l'as traîtreusement tué.
« L'autre chanson, je l'ai inventée
Dans les ténèbres d'une nuit d'orage :
Il faut que tu luttes avec moi à la vie et à la mort,
Oui, tu vas lutter avec moi à la vie et à la mort. »
Alors il appuya sa harpe contre la table
Et tous deux tirèrent promptement leurs épées
Et luttèrent longtemps avec un fracas sauvage.
Jusqu'à ce que le roi tombât dans la grand'salle.
« Maintenant je chante la troisième, la plus belle chanson
Et jamais je ne serai las de la chanter :
Le roi Sifrid est couché dans les Ilots rouges de son sang,
Oui, il est couché dans les Ilots rouges de son sang. »
Uhland.
{Traduit de l'allemand.)
Voir les quatre autres parties.
La Reine des Poissons.
II y avait dans la province du Valois', au milieu des bois de Villers-
Cotterets, un petit garçon et une petite fdle qui se rencontraient de temps
en temps sur les bords des petites rivières du pays, l'un obligé par un
bûcheron nommé Tord-Chêne, qui était son oncle, à aller ramasser du
bois mort, l'autre envoyée par ses parents pour saisir de petites anguilles
que la baisse des eaux permet d'entrevoir dans la vase en certaines saisons.
Elle devait encore, faute de mieux, atteindre entre les pierres les
écrevisses, très nombreuses dans quelques endroits.
Mais la pauvre petite fille, toujours courbée et les pieds dans l'eau,
était si compatissante pour les souffrances des animaux que, le plus
souvent, voyant les contorsions des poissons qu'elle tirait de la rivière,
elle les y remettait et ne rapportait guère que les écrevisses, qui souvent
lui pinçaient les doigts jusqu'au sang, et pour lesquelles elle devenait
alors moins indulgente.
Le petit garçon, de son côté, faisant des fagots de bois mort et des
bottes de bruyère, se voyait exposé souvent aux reproches de Tord-Chêne,
I. Nom d'une partie de l'ancienne province de Flle-de France.
[31] PARTIE FRANÇAISE
soit parce qu'il n'en avait pas assez rapporté, soit parce qu'il s'était trop
occupé à causer avec la petite pêcheuse.
11 y avait un certain jour dans la semaine où ces deux enfants ne se
rencontraient jamais . . Quel était ce jour ? Le même sans doute où la fée
Mélusine se changeait en poisson, et où les princesses de l'Edda - se
transformaient en cygnes.
Le lendemain d'un de ces jours-là, le petit bûcheron dit à la pêcheuse :
— Te souviens-tu qu'hier je t'ai vue passer là-bas dans les eaux de
Challepont avec tous les poissons qui le faisaient cortège. . .jusqu'aux
carpes et aux brochets ? et tu étais toi-même un beau poisson rouge avec
les côtés tout reluisants d'écaillés en or.
— Je m'en souviens bien, dit la petite fdle, puisque je t'ai vu, toi qui
étais sur le bord de l'eau, et que tu ressemblais à im beau chêne-vert,
dont les branches denhaut étaient d'or. . . et que tous les arbres du bois
se courbaient jusqu'à terre en te saluant.
— C'est vrai, dit le petit garçon, j'ai rêvé cela.
— Et moi aussi j'ai rêvé ce que tu m'as dit; mais comment nous som-
mes-nous rencontrés deux dans le rêve ?...
En ce moment, l'entretien fut interrompu par l'apparition de Tord-
Chêne, qui frappa le petit avec un gros gourdin, en lui reprochant de n'a-
voir pas seulement lié encore un fagot.
— Et puis, ajouta-t-il, est-ce que je ne t'ai pas recommandé de tordre
les branches qui cèdent facilement, et de les ajouter à tes fagots ?
— C'est que, dit le petit, le garde me mettrait en prison, s'il trouvait
dans mes fagots du bois vivant K Et puis, quand j'ai voulu le faire, comme
vous me l'aviez dit, j'entendais l'arbre qui se plaignait.
— C'est comme moi, dit la petite hlle, quand j'emporte des poissons
dans mon panier, je les entends quicliantentsi tristement que je les rejette
dans l'eau... Alors on me bat chez nous 1
— Tais-toi, petite masque * ! dit Tord-Chêne, qui paraissait animé par
la boisson, tu déranges mon neveu de son travail. Je te connais bien avec
tes dents pointues couleur de perle... Tu es la reine des poissons... Mais
je saurai bien te prendre à im certain jour de la semaine, et tu périras
dans l'osier. . . dans l'osier = !
Les menaces que Tord-Chêne avait faites dans son ivresse ne tardèrent
pas à s'accomplir. La petite fdle se trouva prise sous la forme de poisson
rouge, que le destin l'obligeait à prendre à de certains jours. Heureuse-
ment, lorsque Tord-Chêne voulut, en se faisant aider de son neveu, tirer
de l'eau la nasse d'osier, ce dernier reconnut le beau poisson rouge à
ses écailles d'or qu'il avait vues en rêve, comme étant la transformation
accidentelle de la petite pêcheuse.
Il osa la défendre contre Tord-Chêne et le frappa même de sa galoche.
Ce dernier, furieux, le prit par les cheveux, cherchant à le renverser ; mais
il s'étonna de trouver une grande résistance : c'est que l'enfant tenait des
pieds à la terre avec tant de force que son oncle ne pouvait venir à bout de
le renverser ou de l'emporter et le faisait en vain virer « dans tous les sens.
Au moment où la résistance de l'enfant allait se trouver vaincue, les
arbres de la forêt frémirent d'un bruit sourd, les branches agitées lais-
a. Livre sacré des Scandinaves. — 3. Le bois est dit mort quand la sève n'y circule
plus, vicant quand la sève y circule encore. — h. petite hypocrite. — 5. On fait avec
de l'osier les nasses qui servent à prendre les poissons. — G. tourner.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE [32]
sèrent siiller les vents, et la tempête fit reculer Tord-Chêne, qui se retira
dans sa cabane de bûcheron.
lien sortit bientôt, menaçant, terrible et transfiguré comme un fils d'O-
din '' ; dans sa main brillait cette hache Scandinave qui menace les arbres,
pareille au marteau de Thor ^ brisant les rochers.
Le jeune roi des forêts, victime de Tord-Chêne — son oncle usurpateur
— savait déjà quel était son rang, qu'on voulait lui cacher. Les arbres le
protégeaient, mais seulement par leur masse et leur résistance passive....
En vain les broussailles et les surgeons s'entrelaçaient de tous côtés pour
arrêter les pas de Tord-Chêne, celui-ci a appelé ses bûcherons et se trace
un chemin à travers ces obstacles. Déjà plusieurs arbres, autrefois sacrés
du temps des vieux druides, sont tombés sous les haches et les cognées.
Heureusement, la reine des poissons n'avait pas perdu de temps. Elle
était allée se jeter aux pieds de la Marne, de ïOise et de ï Aisne — les trois
grandes rivières voisines — leur représentant que, si l'on n'arrêtait pas les
projets de Tord-Chêne et de ses compagnons, les forêts trop éclaircies
n'arrêteraient plus les vapeurs qui produisent les pluies et qui fournissent
l'eau aux ruisseaux, aux rivières et aux étangs ; que les sources elles-
mêmes seraient taries et ne feraient plus jaillir l'eau nécessaire à alimen-
ter les rivières ; sans compter que tous les poissons se verraient détruits
en peu de temps, ainsi que les bêtes sauvages et les oiseaux.
Les trois grandes rivières prirent là-dessus de tels arrangements que le
sol où Tord-Chêne, avec ses terribles bûcherons, travaillait à la destruction
des arbres — sans toutefois avoir pu atteindre encore le jeune prince des
forêts — fut entièrement noyé par une immense inondation, qui ne se
retira qu'après la destruction entière des agresseurs .
Ce fut alors que le roi des forêts et la reine des poissons purent de nou-
veau reprendre leurs innocents entreliens.
Ce n'étaient plus un petit bûcheron et une petite pêcheuse, —mais un
Sylphe et uneOndine, lesquels, plus tard, furent unis légitimement.
Gérard de Nerval.
Dieu de la mylliologie Scandinave. — 8. Autre dieu de cette mythologie.
Médecine expéditive.
Au milieu du siècle dernier, durant une épidémie de variole à Mar-
seille, les médecins ne furent pas assez nombreux pour soigner les mala-
des. Un des docteurs établis dans le vieux Marseille, M. Canello, avait
beau se surmener, il lui était impossible de visiter tous les varioleux au-
près desquels il était appelé. Aussi se bornait-il, la plupart du temps, à
aller de maison en maison ; et, d'en bas, il criait :
— Comment va un tel ?
— 11 a une grosse fièvre, répondait-on d'en haut.
— Ne le faites pas manger.
Et Canello repartait en courant. Le lendemain, il revenait.
— Comment va un tel ?
— 11 n'a plus de fièvre.
— Faites-le manger.
Quelquefois, on répondait à Canello qu'« un tel » était mort. Alors le
médecin tirait un portefeuille de sa poche, écrivait quelques mots et criait :
— Le certificat de décès est sur la rampe de l'escalier.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 2.
20 Octobre 1907.
S*' Année.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
Sully-Prudhomme.
Après J.-M. de llcrédia, voici que disparaît le dernier maître de cette école
parnassienne qui a renouvelé la langue et la littéiature françaises. Et sa part
est peut-être la plus digne de
respect. Comme les autres, il a
eu l'amour du style exact, du
vers harmonieux, de la rime
riche, de la beauté rythmique,
delà beauté verbale'. Mais tan-
dis que les autres étaient sur-
tout descriptifs et objectifs, il
fut à la fois un artiste et un pen-
seur; bien plus, il associa en lui
des qualités presque toujours
incompatibles, puisqu'il eut un
cœur vibrant et sensible avec une
âme de philosophe et de mathé-
maticien. 11 fut le plus moderne
de tous, s'il est vrai que la
science est souveraine aujour-
d'hui et que demain elle refera
le monde.
La sciente de Sully-Prud-
homme était en effet singulière-
ment vaste et sûre. Élevé dans
l'étude des mathématiques, il les cultiva toujours et porta dans toutes les
matières où s'exerça son intelligence la logique rigoureuse, la recherche
méthodique et la passion du vrai qui forment l'esprit scientifique. Il regarda
en face les problèmes qui se posent aujourd'hui devant l'humanité et il osa
présenter des solutions ; il soupesa la valeur des idées générales et des préjugés
dont elle se contente et il sortit de ses méditations clairvoyant et désabusé : anti-
nomie- de la critique et de la foi, vanité de l'orgueil humain, impossibilité de
rencontrer ici-bas la justice et le bonheur, il comprit tout cela et le rendit avec
la précision du savant.
Mais, comme il était poète, il le rendit en l'embellissant d'images tour à tour
émouvantes, gracieuses, magnifiques. Et ces images ne furent pas des orne-
ments plaqués et qu'on détacherait sans nuire au reste; elles s'incorporent au
fond; elles le pénètrent; elles se combinent avec lui; et c'est ainsi, comme on
l'a dit, qu'il fut un créateur fécond de mythes et de symboles. L'histoire des
Danaïdes aboutit à une définition de l'espérance ; la bulle de savon, inconsis-
tante et diaprée, c'est la rêverie; ce beau vase brisé, c'est l'emblème d'un cœur
Sully-Prudhomme.
t . des mots.
LiO]
2. contradiction.
FRANC. 2
10 PARTIE fhan(;aise [74]
nieurlri par une douleur ancienne. La peinture brillante des choses aboutit à
une pensée. Cette poésie
Allume sa fantaisie
Dans les Ijeaux yeux, ô vérité!
Si le doigt des preuves détaclie
Ton voile aux plis multipliés,
Le vent des strophes te l'arrache
D'un seul coup de la tète aux pieds.
Cependant SuUy-Prudhomme serait moins connu s'il n'avait été en outre infi
niment et délicatement sensible, (lelle sensibilité est d'espèce rare. Elle ne
s'étale jamais ; elle n'éclate point en gros sanglots ; elle ne se traduit ni par des
tirades ni par une rhétorique violente; elle est douloureuse, mais discrète. Il
sulTitd'un vers, d'un mot pour la révéler. C'est elle qui a fait chérir le poète
par ceux c^u'enarouchent les cris et le tumulte, qui ont la pudeur de leurs
larmes et pour qui les larmes ont une douceur.
Comme sa science, la sensibilité de Sully-Prudhommc est étendue et com-
plexe. Elle est surtout intellectuelle. Il a ressenti le désir de l'illusion et le cha-
grin de n'y croire plus; il a souffert d'être seul ; il a souhaité les joies du foyer
et de la famille et ne les a point goûtées; il s'est demandé parfois si le bonheur
ne s'offrait pas à lui et il n'a pas osé allonger la main pour le saisir. Et si ce
genre d'émotion, d'ordre élevé, est accessible scalement à une élite, qui n'a pas
en le cœur un peu serré à la lecture de certaines pièces, d'une touchante et
simple beauté? Qui ne s'est pas attendri sur les pauvres « nouveaux n^ « à l'air
sage et délicat », que « les forts appellent des filles » et qui, au dortoir,
cachent leurs petites tètes
En sanglotant sous l'oreiller?
Cette mort est une tristesse pour tout ce qui en France aime la poésie et la
pensée. Sans doute les journaux en ont moins parlé que du dernier crime;
sans doute celle d'un bicyclisie lenommé aurait eu plus de retentissement. Mais
qu'importe? Il ne s'en serait pas étonné; même le contraire l'eût blessé peut-
être. Lui à qui ne plaisaient ni le vacarme ni les acclamations; lui dont la vie
s'écoula unie, studieuse, désintéressée, faisait peu de cas d'une popularité tapa-
geuse. 11 savait d'ailleurs que les hommes comme lui n'y peuvent prétendre et
il s'en consola sans peine. Sa fin fut brièvement constatée par la presse. La
foule cjui l'ignorait presque ne fit point la haie devant le cortège funèbre. Et
rien ne dérangea les* préoccupations cjuotidiennes du grand Paris. Qu'est-ce
quun poète qui s'en va? Des yeux qui se ferment, voilà tout, et cela ne change
rien au train des choses.
Bleus ou noirs, tous aimés, tous beaux.
Des yeux sans nombre ont vu l'aurore ;
Ils dorment au fond des tombeaux,
Et le soleil se lève encore.
Max J.\SI^sKI.
3. les nouveatu; arrives à l'école.
Les blessures.
Le soldat frappé tombe en poussant de grands cris,
On l'emporte ; le baume assainit la blessure ;
Elle se ferme un jour ; il marche, il se rassure,
Et, par un beau soleil, il croit ses maux guéris.
Mais, au premier retour d'ua ciel humide et gris,
Pe l'aiicicane douleur il ressent la morsure ;
[75] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 11
Alors la guérison ne lui paraît pas sûre,
Le souvenir du fer gît dans ses flancs meurtris.
Ainsi, selon le temps qu'il fait dans ma pensée,
A la place où mon àme autrefois fut blessée,
11 est un renouveau 1 d'angoisses que je crains ;
Une larme, un chant triste, un seul mot dans un livre,
Nuage ^ au ciel limpide où je me plais à vivre.
Me fait sentir au cœur la dent des vieux chagrins.
Cri perdu.
Quelqu'un m'est apparu très loin dans le passé :
C'était un ouvrier des hautes Pyramides,
Adolescent perdu dans ces foules timides.
Qu'écrasait ^ le granit pour Chéops entassé.
Or ses genoux tremblaient ; il pliait, harassé
Sous la pierre, surcroît au poids des cieux torrides ^ ;
L'effort gonflait son front et le creusait de rides ;
11 cria tout à coup comme un arbre cassé.
Ce cri fît frémir l'air, ébranla l'élher sombre,
Monta, puis atteignit les étoiles sans nombre
Où l'astrologue lit les tristes jeux du sort;
11 monte, il va, cherchant les dieux et la justice,
Et depuis trois mille ans, sous l'énorme bâtisse,
Dans sa gloire, Chéops inaltérable ■' dort.
Sully-Prudiiomme .
1. Un recommencement. — 2. qui sont comme un nuage dans le ciel... — 3. que le fardeau du
granit écrasait. — 4. Le soleil brûlant de l'Egypte semblait peser aussi sur lui. ^ 5. Parce
qu'il est momifié.
Oncle et neveu.
Dans cette jolie scène, Musset nous montre un oncle un peu grondeur, un neveu
dépensier, mais affectueux. Nos lecteurs goûteront l'esprit délicat de cette conversation;
en même temps, ils auront une idée de l'élégance masculine vers i84o.
Van Blck. — Monsieur mon neveu, je vous souliaite le bonjour.
Yalentin. — Monsieur mon oncle, votre serviteur.
Van Blck. — llcslez assis, j'ai à vous parler.
Valentin. — Asseyez-vous ; j'ai donc à vous entendre. Veuillez vous mettre
dans la bergère ' et poser là votre chapeau .
Van Bucr {s'asseyanl). — Monsieur mon neveu, la plus longue patience et
la plus robuste obstination doivent, l'une et l'autre, finir tôt ou tard. Ce quon
tolère devient intolérable, incorrigible ce qu'on ne corrige pas ; et qui vingt
fois a jeté la peiche à un fou - qui veut se noyer peut être forcé un jour ou
l'autre de l'abandonner ou de lîérir avec lui.
Valentin. — Oh 1 oh ! voilà cpii est débuter et vous avez là des métaphores
qui se sont levées de grand malin.
I. Sorte de fauteuil. — 2. Pour le tirer de l'eau ; on dit plnlùt : tendre la perclie.
12 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [76]
Van Buck. — Monsieur, veuillez garder le silence et ne pas vous permettre
de me plaisanter. C'est vainement que les plus sages conseils, depuis trois ans,
tentent de mordre^ sur vous. Une insouciance ou une fureur aveugle, des réso-
lutions sans effets, mille prétextes inventés à plaisir, une maudite condescen-
dance, tout ce que j'ai pu ou jjuis faire encore (mais, par ma barbe! je ne ferai
plus rien). . . Où me menez-vous à votre suite ? Vous êtes aussi entêté. . .
Valentin. — Mon oncle Van Buck, vous êtes en colère.
Van Buck. — Non, monsieur; n'interrompez pas. Vous êtes aussi obstiné
que je me suis, pour mon malheur, montré crédule et patient. Est-il croyable,
je vous le demande, qu'un jeune homme de vingt-cinq ans passe son temps
comme vous le faites ? De quoi servent mes remontrances et quand prendrez-
vous un état ? Vous êtes pauvre, puisqu'au bout du compte vous n'avez de
fortune que la mienne, mais, finalement, je ne suis pas moribond et je digère
encore vertement ''^. Que comptez-vous faire d'ici à ma mort?
Valentin. — Mon oncle Van Buck, vous êtes en colère et vous allez vous oublier.
Van Buck. — Non, monsieur ; je sais ce que je fais. Si je suis le seul de la
famille qui se soit mis dans le commerce ^, c'est grâce à moi, ne l'oubliez pas,
que les débris d'une fortune détruite ont pu encore se relever. Il vous sied bien
de soui'ire quand je parle ! Si je n'avais pas vendu du guingans '' à Anvers,
vous seriez maintenant à l'hôpital avec votre robe de chambre à fleurs. Mais,
Dieu merci, vos chiennes de bouillottes \ . .
Valentin. — Mon oncle Van Buck, voilà le trivial; vous changez de ton, vous
vous oubliez ; vous avez mieux commencé que cela.
Van Buck. — Sacrebleu ! tu te moques de moi? Je ne suis bon apparemment
qu'à payer tes lettres de change ? J'en ai reçu une ce matin : soixante louis !
Te railles-tu des gens ? 11 te sied bien de faire le fashionable^ (que le diable soit
des mots anglais !) quand tu ne peux pas payer ton tailleur ! C'est autre chose
de descendre d'un beau cheval jiour retrouver au fond d'un hôtel ^ une bonne
famille opulente, ou de sauter à bas d'un carrosse de louage pour grimper
deux ou trois étages. Avec tes gilets de satin, tu demandes, en rentrant du bal,
ta chandelle à ton portier '", et il regimbe quand il n'a pas eu ses étrennes.
Dieu sait si tu les lui donnes tous les ans ! Lancé dans un monde plus riche
que toi, tu puises chez tes amis le dédain de toi-même ; tu portes ta barbe en
pointe et tes cheveux sur les épaules, comme si tu n'avais pas seulement de
quoi acheter un ruban ijour te faire une queue' ' . Tu écrivaiiles dans les gazettes ;
tu es capable de te faire Saint Simonien *^ c^uand tu n'auras plus ni sou ni
maille '^, et cela viendra, je t'en réponds. Va ! va! un écrivain public ''"^ est plus
estimable que toi. Je finirai i^ar te couper les vivres * ' et tu mourras dans un
grenier.
Valentin. — Mon bon oncle Van Buck, je vous respecte et je vous aime.
Faites-moi la grâce de m'écouter. Vous avez payé ce matin une lettre de change
à mon intention. Quand vous êtes venu, j'étais à la fenêtre et je vous ai vu
arriver ; vous méditiez un sermon juste aussi long qu'il y a d'ici chez vous.
Epargnez, de grâce, vos paroles. Ce que vous pensez, je le sais ; ce que vous
faites, je vous en remercie. Que j'aie des dettes et que je ne sois bon à rien,
cela se peut; qu'y voulez-vous faire ? Vous avez Go ooo livres '^ de rentes. . .
Van Buck. — Cinquante.
Valentin. — Soixante, mon oncle ; vous n'avez pas d'enfants et vous êtes
3. de vous émouvoir. — 4. très bien.— 5. soit devenu commerçant. — 6. Sorte d'étoffe de
coton. — 7. vos maudites bouillottes. La bouillotte était un jeu de cartes en vogue vers
18^0. — 8. l'élégant, mot vieilli. — 9. Maison habitée par une famille seule et ses domes-
tiques. — 10. Dans les maisons peu élégantes, les locataires, en rentrant le soir, deman-
daient au concierge leur chandelle qu'ils y laissaient le matin. — 11. Les hommes d'un
certain âge nouaient encore leurs cheveux, qu'ils laissaient longs, avec un ruban. Cette
coiffure s'appelait une queue. — 12. Disciple du philosophe Saint-Simon. — i3. quand
tu seras tout à fait ruiné. — i4. Gens qui, pour une petite somme, écrivaient pour les
illettrés. C'était un très chétif métier. — i5.Je ne le donnerai plus d'argent. — iG. francs.
[77J PARTIE FKANÇAISK 13
plein de bonté pour moi. Si j'en profite, où est le mal ? Avec soixante bonnes
mille livres de rente. . .
Van Buck. — Cinquante, cinquante, pas un denier de plus.
Valentin. — Soixante, vous me l'avez dit vous-même.
Van Bucr. — Jamais. Où as-tu pris cela P
Valentin. — Mettons cinquante. Vous êtes jeune, gaillard encore et bon
vivant '''. Croyez-vous que cela me fâche et que j'aie soif de votre bien ? Vous
ne me faites pas tant d'injure ; et vous savez que les mauvaises tètes n'ont pas
toujours les plus mauvais cœurs. Vous me querellez de ma robe de chambre :
vous en avez porté bien d'autres. Ma barbe en pointe ne veut pas dire que je
sois un Saint-Simonien : je respecte trop l'héritage "*. Vous vous plaignez de
mes gilets : voulez-vous qu'on sorte en chemise ? Vous me dites que je suis
pauvre et que mes amis ne le sont pas : tant mieux pour eux, ce n'est pas ma
faute. Vous imaginez qu'ils me gâtent et que leur exemple me rend dédai-
gneux : je ne le suis que de ce qui m'ennuie et, puisque vous payez mes dettes,
vous voyez bien que je n'emprunte pas. Vous me reprochez d'aller en fiacre :
c'est que je n'ai pas de voiture. Je prends, dites-vous, en rentrant, ma chandelle
chez mon portier : c'est pour ne pas monter sans lumière ; à quoi bon se casser
le cou ? Vous voudriez me voir un étal'^ ; faites-moi nommer premier ministre
et vous verrez comme je ferai mon chemin. Mais quand je serai surnuméraire
dans l'enlre-sol d'un avoué, je vous demande ce que j'y apprendrai, sinon que
tout est vanité. Vous me dites que je joue à la bouillotte : c'est que j'y gagne
quand j'ai brelan -" ; mais soyez sur que je n'y perds pas plus tôt que je me
repens de ma sottise. Ce serait, dites-vous, autre chose si je descendais d'un
beau cheval pour entrer dans un bon hôtel : je le crois bien ! vous en parlez à
votre aise. Vous ajoutez que vous êtes fier quoique vous ayez vendu du guin-
gans ; et plût à Dieu c[ue j'en vendisse ! ce serait la preuve que je pourrais en
acheter. Pour ma noblesse, elle m'est aussi chère qu'elle peut vous l'être à
vous-même ; mais c'est pourquoi je ne m'attelle pas, ni plus que moi les che-
vaux de pursang. Tenez ! mon oncle, ou je me trompe, ou vous n'avez pas
déjeuné. Vous êtes resté le cœur à jeun sur cette maudite lettre de change;
avalons-la de compagnie'-', je vais demander le chocolat.
Van Bucr. — Quel déjeuner ! Le diable m'emporte! tu vis comme un prince.
Valentin. — Eh, que voulez-vous I quand on meurt de faim, il faut bien
tâcher de se distraire.
{Ils se metlent à table.)
A. DE Musset (// ne faut jurer de rien.)
17. jeune, robuste et gai. — 18. Les Saiiit-Simoniens n'admettaient pas l'héritage. —
19. un métier. — 20. beau jeu. — 21. ensemble.
Science et littérature.
D'un côté les savants, grisés par leurs conquêtes légitimes, ont perdu un
peu de leur sang-froid et se sont laissés aller jusqu'à tenter des annexions
téméraires, jusqu'à dire, avec M. Berthelot, que la science exacte embrasse
tout ; (( que, dans la civilisation moderne, toute utilité sociale doit dériver de la
science, parce que la science embrasse le domaine entier de l'esprit humain,
domaine intellectuel, moral, politique, artistique, aussi bien que pratique et
industriel ». Je crois qu'en parlant ainsi l'éminent chimiste a exagéré les droits
et les possibilités de la science.
De leur côté les lettrés, séduits par le prestige de la science, ont essayé d'em-
prunter aux sciences exactes des théories, ou même de simples hypothèses, qui
pouvaient convenir à l'histoire naturelle, mais non à l'hisloire littéraire. Les
critiques universitaires ont fait pis. Hypnotisés pendant quelque temps parla
14 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [78]
science allemande, nous avons, dans une véritable rage d'imitation', risqué de
perdre nos qualités natives pour pasticher la méthode d'outre-Rhin. Nous avons
élevé entre le lecteur et nos livres une véritable barrière de notes, de références,
d'indications bibliographiques, etc.. A force de vouloir être scientifiques, nous
devenions illisibles; nous essayions de paraître si sérieux que nous commen-
cions à être ennuyeux. Sur cette chose ailée, vibrante, qui s'appelle la poésie,
nous entassions de si lourds volumes qu'une thèse devenait, pour le malheu-
reux auteur 2 qui en était l'objet et la \ictime, un monument sans doute, mais
un monument funèbre.
Heureusement la science française s'est ressaisie ^ : un juste équilibre s'est
établi entre les tendances de l'ancienne critique, qui cherchait le brillant aux
dépens de l'exactitude, et la méthode de l'école nouvelle, qui sacriûait un peu
trop l'art à l'érudition, l'intérêt à la documentation ^. Nos livres aujourd'hui
sont aussi sérieusement préparés que ceux des univeisitaires allemands et, si
j'en crois un professeur américain, M. de Sumichrast, ils sont plus faciles à lire.
La critique littéraire et scientifique, chez les universitaires, est devenue ambi-
tieuse. Dans la formation de la France de demain, elle croit avoir un rôle à
jouer. Elle voudrait inspirer à tous les étudiants, outre les curiosités particu-
lières à leurs spécialités ', une curiosité générale, toujours en éveil, faisant sa
pâture de tout ; elle voudrait, puisqu'elle a le dépôt des chefs-d'œuvre où sont
cristallisées les meilleures qualités de notre race, donner à chacun d'eux la
conscience de sa propre valeur, en lui faisant comprendre, aimer cette merveil-
leuse littérature qui est fexpression artistique de l'âme française. L'esthétique
n'est pas seule intéressée dans une pareille initiation; il y a des gains moraux
à faire dans ces recherches : aussi bien que l'histoire en général, l'histoire litté-
raire peut apprendre aux étudiants d'aujourd'hui, aux dirigeants de demain '"■,
que, en France, le bon sens, l'esprit de tolérance et de modération ont toujours
le dernier mot '.
Maurice Souriau.
I. en imitant .«ans- memre, presqnfi foUemont. — a. L'auteur dont la thèse parlait. —
3. Est revenue à son bon sens naturel. — h- Les livres étaient plus documentés qu'inté-
ressants. — 5. La philosophie pour les philosophes, l'histoire pour les historiens, etc.. —
6. qui demain dirigeront la France — 7. Cette belle page, si vraie d'ailleurs, est extraite
de la préface de Moralistes et poètes, qui vient de paraître chez MM. Vuiberl et Nony.
Chez les aveugles.
Dimanche ! Jour de repos bien gagne ! Il est vrai que musiciens et
musiciennes ne laissent guère reposer leurs mains et leurs voix, mais on
se donne le plaisir d'exécuter les airs préférés.
La fanfare des jeunes gens ébranle les vitres de leurs classes. Dans
le bâtiment des filles, c'est plus calme. Celles dont les parents savent lire
le Braille ' pointent de longues épîtres -. D'autres dictent leurs lettres à
une voyante c[ui leur sert de secrétaire.
Les cartes, les dominos procurent à quelques-unes un passe-temps
paisible.
.l'ai liàte de mieux connaître tous les êtres ^ de la maison. L ne des
maîtresses me conduit à travers les appartements. Nous traversons un
vaste réfectoire au-dessus duquel se trouvent le dortoir des garçons, les
chambres des maîtres et les « cellules de piano ». Partout des instruments
de musitjue.
Un grand pédalier occupe le fond du réfectoire : il fait face à un liar-
I. Écriture en pointillés inventée par Braille. — 2. écrivent des lettres avec un p<iin<^(in.
— 3 . les détails.
[79] PAHTIE FRANgAISE 15
monium, car c'est dans cette salle que l'on se réunit pour léchant général,
les fêtes. M"" D. '* m'étonne par sa vivacité adroite. Elle décrit avec dé-
tails chaque recoin de la maison, son contenu, sa destination.
Le temps est sombre ; je fais des faux-pas dans les escaliers et je m'a-
perçois que M"<2 D. a un air tant soit peu malicieux. Elle s'écrie joyeuse-
ment : (( Est-il possible ? Une aveugle qui protège une voyante ! » Kiant
avec elle, et me laissant guider, je lui demande : « Tous les habitants de
ce logis ont-ils votre belle humeur ? - Presque tous. Il y en a qui seraient
souvent mélancoliques si nous ne les déridions pas. Ce sont ceux et celles
qui ont vu longtemps... Ils regrettent toujours la lumière... Moi j'ai vu
très peu autrefois, mais je serais bien heureuse de regarder ma petite nièce
une heure seulement... Je lui fais une robe au crochet : elle sera si mi-
gnonne ■' avec ! ... »
Nous arrivons dans une cour de récréation. Les grands garçons se pro-
mènent au pas, en faisant de longues enjambées ; quelques-uns se pour-
suiventautourdes arbres. J'é[)rouve alors une impression bizarre. Il mesem-
ble que tous ces aveugles vont tomber sur moi . . .et je n'ose plus avancer.
M"*^ D. comprend mon hésitation et me rassure : « Avancez, ne craignez
rien. Nous sentons bien la présence des personnes, allez ! la pression de
l'air sur nos mains et notre visage nous indiciue l'endroit où se trouvent
les obstacles. Puis... nous sommes des êtres prudents. »
En effet, durant tout mon séjour à l'Institution, je n'ai jamais été
heurtée par les aveugles. La cour des filles est plus animée. On fait des
rondes. Une grande élève s'occupe d'organiser le jeu des quatre coins.
Trois tout petits sucent des bonbons qu'une dame vient de leur apporter.
iVP'e D. m'apprend que quelques personnes de la ville viennent le jeudi
faire des lectures à haute voix, causant ainsi aux aveugles une joie
immense.
Deux garçonnets de six à sept ans attirent mon attention ; ils traînent
gravement des Avagons minuscules, cadeaux de maman S.'^ au Noël der-
nier. Je m'approche et le petit Albert demande à M"'' D. dont il a reconnu
le pas : u Peut-on toucher la demoiselle qui est avec vous ? Peut-on re-
garder si elle est bien habillée ') — Je crois bien que je permets. » Alors
il promène ses petits doigts sur mes vêtements et questionne: « Ah ! vous
n'avez pas de tablier ? C'est ça votre robe des dimanches ? Elle est en
laine avec des petits poils. A-t-elle du blanc ? C'est joli le blanc, les autres
qui voient me l'ont dit. » Antoine, plus timide que son compagnon, n'ose
parler. M"'" D. l'encourage et il s'enhardit peu à peu. Quoique l'aîné
d'Albert il demeure sous sa dépendance. Il a besoin des services de son
ami plus jeime. parce que ce dernier est très habile à se diriger seul.
L'air de protection dédaigneuse du petit Albert me réjouit fort. Il babille
etme confie ce qu'il sait en musique, en grammaire, etc.... Je constate que
son instruction dépasse celle de la moyenne des voyants du même Age.
M"' J.-^I. JONCllADE ^
4 Une maîtresse de l'école visitée par l'auteur. — 5. si jolie, expression familière. —
6. la directrice Les aveugles l'appellent ainsi dans la maison. — 7. Extrait d'un très
intéressant article paru dans, la Rpvue Pédagoyiqiie du i5 juin 1907.
A la lune *.
0 gracieuse lune, je me souviens qu'il y a un an je venais sur cette col-
line te regarder, plein d'angoisse : et tu te suspendais alors, comme tu
fais maintenant, sur cjtte forêt que tu éclaires tout entière. Mais, nuageux
• Voir les quatre autres parties.
16 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [80]
et tremblant des larmes qui baignaient mes cils, apparaissait ton visage à
mes yeux : car douloureuse était ma vie, et elle l'est encore et n'a pas
change, ô ma lune chérie. Et cependant j'aime à me souvenir et à calcu-
ler l'âge de ma douleur. Oh ! comme il est doux, au temps de la jeunesse,
quand la carrière de l'espérance est encore longue et celle de la mémoire
encore courte, de se rappeler les choses passées, même tristes, et même
si le chagrin dure encore !
G. Leopakdi.
(Traduction F. -A. Aulard.)
La meule.
J'étais encore petit garçon, lorsque, un froid matin d'hiver, un homme,
qui portait une hache sur l'épaido, s'approcha de moi en souriant : « Mon
joli garçon, dit-il, votre père a-t-il une meule? - Oui, monsieur, répon-
dis-je. — Vous êtes un bien beau petit gars ', ajoula-t-il. Voulez-vous me
laisser aiguiser ma hache sur votre meule? » Flatté du compliment qu'il
me faisait en m'appelant « beau petit gars », je répondis : « Oh ! oui, mon-
sieur, elle est en bas, dans la boutique. — Et voulez-vous, mon bon-
homme ^ dit- il, en me frappant doucement sur la lête, me procurer un
peu d'eau chaude ? » Comment aurais-je pu refuser? Je m'empressai et
apportai bientôt un chaudron tout plein.
« Quel Age avez-vous, et quel est votre nom ? conlinua-t-il, sans atten-
dre la réponse. Vous êtes, je l'assure, im des plus jolis garçons que j'aie
jamais vus. Voulez-vous me rendre le service de tournerun peu la meule,
quelques minutes seulement ? »
Charmé, comme un sot, de ces paroles flatteuses, je me mis à la beso-
gne. La hache était neuve : je m'évertuai et je peinai au point d'en mourir
presque de fatigue. La cloche de l'église tinta ; et je ne pouvais pas
m'échapper ; j'avais des ampoules aux mains, et la moitié de la hache
n'était pas encore repassée. A la longue, cependant, elle fut aiguisée : alors
notre homme, se tournant vers moi. u Eh bien, petit polisson, vous avez
fait l'école buissonnière ; sauvez-vous vite en classe, ou vous vous en
repentirez. »
Hélas ! pensais-je, n'était-il pas assez pénible de tourner une meule par
un jour si froid ?. . . Mais être appelé maintenant petit polisson, ah ! c'est
trop ! Ce souvenir resta profondément gravé dans mon esprit, et
depuis lors j'y ai pensé souvent. Quand je vois un commerçant, poli à
l'excès envers ses clients, les invitant à prendre un petit verre d'eau-de-vie
et étalant ses marchandises sur le comptoir, je pense en moi-même : << Cet
homme a une hache à faire repasser. »
Quand je vois un homme, qui, dans sa vie privée, agit comme un
tyran, flatter le peuple et faire de grandes déclarations d'attachement à la
liberté, je me dis : « Méfie-toi, bon peuple ! ce gaillard-là voudrait te faire
tourner la meule ! »
Franklin.
1. garçon, familier. — 2. Autre terme familier.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 3. 5 Novembre 1907. 8" Année.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
Le voyageur à Rome.
La première impression do l'étranger qui arrive à Rome est d'étonnement et
de malaise plutôt que de joie et d'admiration. La ville n'est pas de celles que
l'on peut facilement saisir, définir d'un mot, symboliser par une image simple ;
on se sent incapable d'assimiler, aussi vite qu'on le désirerait, cette matière trop
riche, et l'on souffre de cette contrainte. Au sortir de Venise, dont la séduction
est si peu compliquée, de la Toscane, dont la nature et l'art se ramènent à un
petit nombre de formules claires, et dont l'histoire est condensée en quelques
siècles, la variété de Rome accable et déroute. Trop de quartiers modernes, aux
larges i-ues, aux enseignes polyglottes, voisinent avec' les champs de fouilles 2;
trop de bâtisses jaunâtres, sans silhouette^ et sans caractère, encombrent la ville,
quand on la regarde du haut du l'incio ou du Janicule ; on a peine à mettre un
nom sur les campaniles et les dômes trop serrés, sur les palais trop uniformes.
Entre les ruines de la Rome païenne et la somptuosité de Saint-Pierre, on hésite,
appelé par des sollicitations contraires', et l'on est encore distrait et dérangé
par l'agitation cosmopolite du Corso', ou par la rumeur des séances à Monteci-
torio\ De cette confusion résulte une sorte de lassitude, d'étourdisscment, où
se mêle un peu de désillusion.
Tous doivent traverser, au début, cette période de gène, d'adaptation insuffi-
sante. Il arrive parfois qu'on quille Rome avant de s'y être acclimaté ; alors,
sans se l'avouer, on garde contre elle quelque rancune, et par la suite on s'at-
tarde à son souvenir moins volontiers qu'à celui de Florence ou de Naples. Mais
si l'on peut y prolonger son séjour, si, par un progrès insensible, on réussit à
connaître et à comprendre Rome, à y vivre, non plus en étranger de passage,
mais en hôte naturalisé, un moment vient où l'on s'aperçoit qu'aucune ville,
même italienne, n'est comparable à celle-ci. C'est qu'à la longue on a subi le
charme de Rome, plus pénétrant qu'aucun autre ; une fois pris, on ne se libé-
rera plus.
Nulle part sans doute plus qu'à Rome la douceur de vivre n'est une réalité ;
une atmosphère de bien-être y entoure l'existence. Stendhal l'a dit, en un mot
significatif que rappelle M. Schneider' : le climat de Rome « suffit au bon-
heur». Ce n'est pas qu'il soit une fête perpétuelle; seulement, à qui sait en
tirer parti, il procure des joies presque ininterrompues, et variées suivant les
saisons. Il faut passer condamnation " sur les grosses jjluies d'hiver : encore
Gœthe leur sait-il gré d'aviver le vert des arbres et des pelouses. Mais il y a un
plaisir dans la tramontane, le vent salubre du nord qui siffle et pique rudement,
à certains jours de décembre et de janvier ; il y a une volupté dans le scirocco,
qui apporte du sud une chaleur moite, énervante et molle. Au printemps les
actes les plus élémentaires, ouvrir les yeux, respirer, marcher, deviennent une
I. sont près de. .. — a. Les terrains où l'on fait des fouilles (Forum, Palatin). — 3. sans
belles lignes. — U. attiré de divers côtés par des choses agréables. — 5. Nom de la rue la plus
fréquentée de Rome. — 6. Lieu où se tient le Parlement italien. — 7. Auteur d'un beau
livre sur l'Italie. — 8. se ré.signer à.
[16] FBAXÇ. 3
18 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [122]
raison d'être heureux : les couleurs sont intenses, la vie palpite dans la lumière
éclatante ou l'ombre tiède. Quant à l'été romain, il est calomnié : en juillet, le
soleil a beau écraser de flamme les grandes places et les avenues spacieuses,
assoupir Rome entière de midi à trois heures ; les rues étroites, qui sont les
seules rues vraiment italiennes, conservent pour les flâneurs de la fraîcheur et
de l'intimité; les soirs sont longs et beaux; la nuit, la foule qui anime les
promenades ne peut se décider à regagner les maisons et à s'endormir.
Les églises elles palais de Rome fournissent à l'existence un cadre dont on ne
reconnaît pas tout de suite la perfection. Les façades du XVIP et du Wlllf^
siècles sont les plus nombreuses : on s'intéresse peu, d'abord, à ces architectu-
res baroques, colonnades illogiques, ornements semés à profusion, statues
déclamatoires', vestibules prétentieux derrière lesquels rien de sérieux n'appa-
raît. Puis on se rend compte que ces monuments, dont chacun pris en soi peut
sembler banal ou de mauvais goût, forment des ensembles typiques et char-
mants. Sous les rayons excessifs de midi ou sous le clair de lune, on les appré-
cie comme il faut les apprécier, comme des décors agréables, pas tout à fait
réels et solides, d'une pompe un peu factice, accessoires appropriés d'une vie
heureuse ; la place d'Espagne, la place du Peuple, la place Colonna, la place
Navone sont autant de compositions irrépi'ochables, quoi que l'on veuille pen-
ser de tel ou tel morceau.
Eugène Albertini '".
g. aux allUuden excessives. — lo. Tiré d'un bel article " A propos d'un livre sur
Rome" paru dans la Revue pédagogique du i5 septembre. (Editeur: Delagrave, Paris.)
Le problème de l'azote.
Malgré son nom qui veut dire « impropre à la vie », l'azote est indispensable
à l'existence des êtres vivants. Un animal que l'on ne nourrit qu'avec des fécu-
lents, du sucre, de la graisse, dépérit parce que ces aliments ne renferment pas
d'azote. De même, les plantes de grande culture ne donnent qu'un maigre
produit si, par l'addition au sol d'engrais azotés, on ne régénère l'azote qui a
été enlevé par les précédentes récoltes. Mais d'où vient l'azote des êtres vivants ?
Les animaux carnassiers le trouvent dans la chair des herbivores et ceux-ci
l'empruntent aux plantes. Quant à ces dernières — pour la plui^art du moins, —
elles le puisent exclusivement dans le sol. où il existe sous forme de nitrates ou
de composés ammoniacaux. C'est donc, en définitive, toujours dans la terre que
nous puisons notre azote; et la vie, sur tout le globe, est liée à sa plus ou
moins grande abondance dans le sol que nous foulons.
Evidemment, si l'homme et les animaux étaient clairsemés à la surface du
globe, ils pourraient se contenter des végétaux qui y croissent de ci de là et
pour lesquels l'azote, se trouvant normalement dans le sol, serait bien suffisant.
Mais il n'en va pas ainsi : les hommes ont trouvé nécessaire de former de grandes
agglomérations et de se créer des besoins intenses, comme nourriture —ce qui
exige de vastes cultures de pommes de terre, de haricots, de toutes sortes de
légumes, — comme vêtements — ce qui demande de grandes cultures de textiles, —
comme luxe — ce qui amène à consacrer de vastes terrains à la culture des bet-
teraves à sucre, des fruits, du tabac, des fieiirs, etc. Tout cela, on le comprend,
épuise rapidement le sol et. comme je le disais plus haut, met l'homme en
demeure de régénérer sans cesse l'azote de la terre.
Pour cela, il y a deux moyens.
Le premier consiste à cultiver dans les champs des plantes de la famille des
légumineuses (luzerne, trèfle, etc.) et à les enfouir quand elles ont acquis leur
complet développement : grâce aux tubercules qui existent sur leurs racines,
les légumineuses jouissent en effet de la propriété curieuse de fixer l'azote de
[123] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 19
l'air; par le procédé que je viens d'indiquer, on arrive, on le voit, à faire ren-
trer en quelque sorte celui-ci dans la terre. Mais ce moyen n'a qu'une valeur
relative et oblige à sacriûer pendant de longs mois des étendues considérables
de terrain.
Le second moyen est plus connu et plus iDratique : il consiste à répandre
sur le sol des engrais azotés. Les plus importants de ces engrais sont le guano
du Pérou et le nitrate de soude du Chili qui, dans ces deux pays, abondent à
l'état naturel. Mais si immenses que soient leurs gisements, il est bien évident
qu'ils finiront un jour par s'épuiser; cette ère de disette a même déjà com-
mencé, ainsi que le montre l'élévation lente mais continue de leur prix de
vente.
On a été ainsi amené à fabriquer cliimiquement des engrais azotés ; le seul
que nous possédions actuellement est le sulfate d'ammoniaque, que l'on
recueille dans les produits de la combustion de la houille. C'est évidemment
un excellent engrais, mais qui, pas plus que le guano et le nitrate de soude,
n'est en quantités indéfinies, puisque la houille qui le produit s'épuise de plus
en plus et finira certainement un jour par disparaître de la surface du globe.
Il faut donc chercher « autre chose » et trouver une autre source d'azote.
Nous en possédons un réservoir immense et pour ainsi dire inépuisaljle : c'est l'air
atmosphérique, lequel, comme chacun sait, est surtout formé de 79 parties
d'azote et de 21 parties d'oxygène. 11 y a beau temps que les chimistes rêvaient
d'exploiter l'azote de l'atmosphère, mais ils se heurtaient toujours à 1' « inac-
tivité chimique » de ce gaz. On exagérait d'ailleurs cette torpeur de l'azote : la
preuve en est que, dans ces derniers temps, on est parvenu à le faire entrer
dans des compositions chimiques bien définies et à obtenir de véritables pro-
duits industriels susceptibles d'être employés en agriculture. La fixation prati-
que de l'azote atmosphérique peut être considérée aujourd'hui comme réalisée ;
elle n'est pas, cependant, absolument parfaite, mais on l'améliorera sans aucun
doute.
On est arrivé à utiliser de deux façons l'azote de l'air.
Le premier procédé, dû à MM. Franck et Caro, consiste à chauffer du carbure
de calcium — le même avec lequel on obtient l'acétylène — à la température de
loooo et à faire arriver dans les cornues de l'air dépouillé de son oxygène,
c'est-à-dire ne contenant que de l'azote. Le produit obtenu est la « cyanamide »,
qui, exploitée en agriculture, a donné des résultats bons, quoique un peu irré-
guliers.
Le second procédé est dû à MM. Birkeland et Eyde: il repose sur l'oxydation
de l'azote de l'air par l'arc électrique, oxydation qui donne de l'oxyde azotique,
lequel, au contact de l'oxygène en excès, produit de l'acide azotique. C'est
ensuite l'enfance de l'art que de transformer celui ci en azotate de calcium, un
engrais « de tout repos ».
Désormais, l'air ne nous donnera donc pas son oxygène seulement ; par son
azote, il fera pousser les petits pois, fleurir les roses et mûrir les fraises.
Henri Coupin.
Mort d'un avare.
Dans l'année 182-, le père Grandet, sentant le poids des infirmités, fut forcé
d'initier sa fille aux secrets de sa fortune territoriale S et lui disait, en cas de diffi-
cultés, de s'en rapporter à Gruchot le notaire, dont la probité lui était connue.
Puis, vers la fin de celte année, le bonhomme- fut, à l'âge de quatre-vingt-
deux ans, pris par une paralysie qui fil de rapides progrès. . . Grandet fut con-
damné par monsieur Bergerin'^ En pensant qu'elle allait bientôt se trouver
I. en terres. — 2. le vieillard. Archaïsme. — 3. Le médecin, dans le roman.
20 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [124]
seule dans le monde, Eugénie se tint, pour ainsi dire, plus près de son père,
et serra plus forlement ce dernier anneau d'afTection.
Dans sa pensée, comme dans celle de toutes les femmes aimantes, l'amour
était le monde entier, et Charles^ n'était pas là. Elle fut sublime de soins et
d'attentions pour son vieux père, dont les facultés commençaient à baisser,
mais dont l'avarice se soutenait instinctivement. Aussi la mort de cet homme
ne contrasta-t-elle point avec sa vie. Dès le matin il se faisait rouler entre la
cheminée de sa chambre et la porte de son cabinet, sans doute plein d'or. Il
restait là sans mouvement ; mais il regardait tour à tour avec anxiété ceux qui
venaient le voir et la porte doublée de fer. 11 se faisait rendre compte des moin-
dres bruits qu'il entendait ; et, au grand élonnement du notaire, il entendait
le bâillement de son chien dans la cour. 11 se réveillait de sa stupeur apparente
au jour et à l'heure où il fallait recevoir des fermages, faire des comptes avec
les closiers^ ou donner des quittances. Il agitait alors son fauteuil à roulettes
jusqu'à ce qu'il se trouvât en face de la porte de son cabinet. 11 le faisait ouvrir
par sa tille, et veillait à ce qu'elle plaçât en secret elle-même les sacs d'argent
les uns sur les autres, à ce qu'elle fermât la porte. Puis elle revenait à sa place
silencieusement, aussitôt qu'elle lui avait rendu la précieuse clef, toujours placée
dans la poche de son gilet, et qu'il tâtait de temps en temps. D'ailleurs son
vieil ami le notaire, sentant que la riche héritière épouserait nécessairement
son neveu le président, si Charles Grandet ne revenait pas, redoubla de soins
et d'attentions : il venait tous les jours se mettre aux ordres de Giandet, allait
à son commandement® à Froidfond, aux terres, aux prés, aux vignes, vendait
les récoltes, et transmutait^ tout en or et en argent qui venait se réunir secrè-
tement aux sacs empilés dans le cabinet. Enfin arrivèrent les jours d'agonie,
pendant lesquels la forte charpente du bonhomme fut aux prises avec la des-
truction. Il voulut rester assis au coin de son feu, devant la porte de son
cabinet.
Il attirait à lui et roulait toutes les couvertures que l'on mettait sur lui, et
disait à Nanon^ : « Serre, serre ça, pour qu'on ne me vole pas. » Quand il
pouvait ouvrir les yeux, où toute sa vie s'était réfugiée, il les tournait aussitôt
vers la i^orte du cabinet où gisaient ses trésors, en disant à sa fille : « Y sont-
ils ? y sont-ils? » d'un son de voix qui dénotait une sorte de peur panique.
— Oui, mon père.
— Veille à l'or . . . mets de l'or devant moi !
Eugénie lui étendait des louis sur une table, et il demeurait des heures
entières les yeux attachés sur les louis, comme un enfant qui, au moment où il
commence à voir, contemple stupidement le même objet; et, comme à un
enfant, il lui échappait un sourire pénible.
— Ça me réchaufTe! disait-il quelquefois, en laissant paraître sur sa figure
une expression de béatitude.
Lorsque le curé de la paroisse vint l'administrer", ses yeux, morts en appa-
rence depuis quelques heures, se ranimèrent à la vue de la croix, des chande-
liers, du bénitier d'argent qu'il regarda fixement, et sa loupe '" remua pour la
dernière fois. Lorsque le prêtre lui approcha des lèvres le crucifix en vermeil
pour lui faire baiser le Christ, il fit un épouvantable geste pour le saisir et ce
dernier effort lui coûta la vie; il appela Eugénie, qu'il ne voyait pas, quoiqu'elle
fût agenouillée devant lui et qu'elle baignât de ses larmes une main déjà froide.
— Mon pèie, bénissez-moi ! demanda-t-elle.
— Aie bien soin de tout. Tu me rendras compte de ça là bas.
Eugénie Grandet se trouva donc seule au monde dans cette maison, n'ayant
que INanon à qui elle put jeter un regard avec la certitude d'être entendue et
comprise, Nanon, le seul être qui l'aimât pour elle et avec qui elle put causer
de ses chagrins. La grande" Nanon était une providence pour Eugénie. Aussi
li. Le fiancé d'Eugénie Grandet. — 5. petits fermiers. — G. sur ^on ordre. — 7. transfor-
mait, un peu impropre. — 8. La servante. — 9. Lui donner les derniers sacrements. — 10.
Excroissance de cliair. Grandet en avait une. — 11. Nanon était de grande taitle.
[125] PAUTIE FRANÇAISE 21
ne fut-elle plus une servante, mais une humble amie. Après la mort de son
père, Eugénie apprit par maître Cruchot qu'elle possédait trois cent mille
livres de rente en biens-fonds dans l'arrondissement de Saumur, six millions
placés à trois pour cent à soixante francs, et il ' ' valait alors soixante dix-sept
francs ; plus deux millions en or et cent mille francs en écus, sans compter les
arrérages à recevoir. L'estimation totale de ses biens allait à dix-sept millions.
Balzac {Eugénie Grandet).
12. Le trois pour cent.
Automne.
0 brumes de l'automne, écharpes, gazes tendres
Qui tombez doucement sur les prés assoupis
Et qui roulez aux blancs péplums ' de vos méandres
Le fantôme des jours, la gloire et nos dépits ;
Mousselines que tend sur les courbes vallées
Le doiiit d'un matin gris ignorant de l'azur
Et laissant dans sa course, au sable des allées,
Choir la grappe oubliée et le dernier fruit mûr ;
Calme profond des cliamps en repos ; hymne grave
Qui vous levez du sol avec les nouveaux blés ;
Heurts pénibles du soc fendant comme une étrave -
L'humus, mer immobile aux flots jamais troublés ;
Lointains échos, portés sur les ailes des nues.
Associant à la rumeur sombre du bois
Le long mugissement des bœufs, les ingénues
Chansons des passereaux et les cris de chamois ;
Arômes du regain ^ que boit un soleil pâle
Dont la tiédeur se joue au miroir des étangs
Et mêle au lait bleuté * des colchiques opales
Le sang de la bruyère ^ en tapis éclatants ;
0 fleurs, suprêmes fleurs, cjui sur vos tiges lasses
Vous laissez balancer par un vent déjà froid
Et voyez, comme un spectre emplissant les espaces,
Sur vous le trépas fondre avec l'hiver qui croît ;
0 jardin vous serrant autour de la demeure
— Tel un enfant frileux sur un sein maternel ; —
Rameaux mi-dépouillés, à votre dernière heure,
Levant, sans l'attendrir, vos bras lourds vers le ciel ;
Et vous. Mère, Beauté, Cœur du monde. Nature,
Frissonnante et peureuse au déclin de l'été,
Et qui portez avec le deuil de la ramure,
L'inutile regret de votre royauté :
J'aime vos tons discrets, votre grâce fragile.
Et vos jours condamnés dans un bref avenir ®,
Et mon âme s'empreint, comme une molle argile.
De vos formes qui vont, hélas ! s'évanouir.
I. les blancs manteaux.— 2. nne proue. — 3. Seconde fenaison, qui se fait en automne.—
tt. Les colchiques ont une teinte bleutée très douce. — 5. La bruyère a des fleurs rouges.
— G. et cotre vie qui finira bientôt.
2i PARTIE FKANÇAISE [^26]
Mais pourtant j'entrevois, par delà la mort sombre
Qui doit vous engloutir au gouffre noir du temps,
Le glorieux moment où jaillira de l'ombre
Votre force nouvelle en rejets triomphants.
Et j'évoque, parmi les aurores écloses
Dans les deux rajeunis sur de féconds avrils,
Le renouveau vainqueur ressuscitant les roses,
Grandissant les froments, entr'ouvrantles pistils ;
Aux bassins, clairs miroirs fixant le ciel immense.
Egrenant les ruisseaux en un rire argentin
Et des plaines, qu'habite aujourd'hui le silence.
Faisant monter un chant d'allégresse au Destin.
Car répreuve n'est rien qui de joie est suivie.
Le bonheur qu'on obtient après un rude effort
S'épanouit soudain comme une fleur. La vie
N'est belle et n'a de prix que mêlée à la Mort ^
Pierre de Boughaud ^
7 Les Lauriers de l'Olympe, Paris^ Lemerre, 1907. Page 78. — 8. Faut-il faire
remarquer à nos lecteurs la pure et harmonieuse beauté de cette pièce ? Ce serait
presque leur faire injure.
Enterrements et fête des morts en Corse.
Dans certaines parties de l'île, aussitôt après les derniers moments du
malade, on lave soigneusement le corps et on le revêt de ses habits en y
comprenant la chaussure ; et, à rencontre de ce qui se fait partout ailleurs,
on lui couvre la tête du bonnet qu'il avait journellement pendant sa vie.
Cette toilette faite, le corps est porté sur la tola (quatre planches placées
les unes à côté des autres et posées sur deux tréteaux). Cette tola est recou-
verte d'un drap blanc. Un coussin est mis sous la tête du mort ; on lui
joint les mains sur la poitrine où l'on place un crucifix et un chapelet. Les
pieds du cadavre sont toujours tournés du côté de la porte qui reste
ouverte. Les proches parents se placent aux deux côtés, près de la tête.
Ces dispositions prises, les pleureuses sont mandées et forment un cer-
cle autour du corps. Alors commencent les vocerl : voix de la douleur.
Ces femmes sont toutes voilées de la faldetla, sorte de jupe de bure
noire-bleue attachée à la taille, relevée derrière jusque sur la tête et retom-
bant sur les yeux, à la manière ^ d'un capuchon, comme le font souvent
nos paysannes avec leur jupon pour se préserver de la pluie.
Agenouillées, l'une d'elles entonne les chants du trépas, sorte de canti-
ques populaires du pays, qui ont un caractère de douce tristesse. Lorsque
la chanteuse est fatiguée, elle fait un signe à sa voisine qui, sans le moindre
arrêt, continue la phrase du chant commencé. Et cela se poursuit ainsi,
sans désemparer ^ jusqu'au moment où le prêtre se présente pour pro-
céder à la cérémonie religieuse. A ce moment le diapason s'élève* : deux,
puis trois et quatre femmes chantent à la fois ; les chants deviennent des
cris aigus et poignants ; les mains se joignent au-dessus des têtes ; les
lamentations semblent briser les cœurs ; les mouvements de ces femmes
deviennent tragiciues et convulsifs, et pourtant tout cela n'est qu'une
I. comme. — 2. sans interruption — 3. // y n jilus dr violence
127] PARTIK FRANÇAISE 23
pantomime payée *. Mais à côté de ces mercenaires se trouve la véritable
douleur. Au moment delà mise en bière, les parents du défunt se réu-
nissent, comme pour empêcher l'enlèvement du corps. Une espèce de
lutte s'engage et se prolonge quelquefois longtemps. Les femmes pous-
sent des cris épouvantables, se frappent le sein, se roulent dans la pous-
sière et se tordent comme en proie aux accès d'une violente frénésie.
Les cris ne cessent qu'à l'entrée de l'église pour reprendre au cimetière
qui, généralement, est attenant"^ au sanctuaire.
11 est d'usage que les veuves ne quittent plus le deuil qu'elles ont pris
à la mort de leur mari ; elles portent un petit voile noir attaché à leur
coiffure et s'en couvrent la figure lorsqu'elles paraissent devant les per-
sonnes à qui elles doivent delà considération. Les seconds mariages des
femmes sont très rares ; ils sont considérés comme une sorte de déshonneur.
La fête des morts revêt ici un caractère '' des plus douloureux. Les fem-
mes se rendent au cimetière, s'étendent d'abord dans un morne silence
sur la tombe de leur mort ; puis exhalent leur douleur par de longs gémis-
sements, jurent à celui qui n'est plus un éternel amour et déposent sur sa
tombe du tabac et des provisions pour soutenir son voyage à travers l'éter-
nité^
Victor FoROT-
4. des actes faits par des yens payés pour cela. — 5. est tout près de. — G. a une appa-
rence. — 7. Extrait d'un livre plein de choses curieuses et d'une lecture très attachante:
Le Culte des Morts à travers le monde. Paris, Jean Scheniit, 1907.
Le pauvre et le riche *.
I
Dans les anciens temps, quand le bon Dieu en personne cheminait
encore parmi les hommes, il advint qu'un soir il fut fatigué et que la nuit
le surprit avant qu'il pût trouver une auberge. Sur la route, devant lui,
deux maisons se faisaient face, l'une grande et belle, l'autre petite et de
misérable apparence ; la grande appartenait à un riche, la petite à un
pauvre.
Le Seigneur pensa : je ne serai pas une charge pour le riche ; je vais
frapper à sa porte. Lorsque le riche entendit frapper à sa porte, il ouvrit
la fenêtre et demanda à l'étranger ce qu'il cherchait. Et le Seigneur de
répondre : « Je ne désire qu'un lit pour passer la nuit. » Le riche consi-
déra le voyageur de la tête aux pieds et comme le bon Dieu portait un
vêtement modeste et n'avait pas l'air de quelqu'un qui aies poches pleines
d'argent, il secoua la tête et dit : h Je ne peux pas vous recevoir ;
ma maison est pleine d'herbes et de grains et s'il me fallait héberger tous
ceux qui frappent à ma porte, je n'aurais plus qu'à me faire mendiant
moi-même ! Cherchez un gîte ailleurs ! » Là-dessus il ferma sa fenêtre,
plantant là le bon Dieu. Celui-ci lui tourna le dos, se rendit à la petite
maison d'en face et frappa à la porte. Tout aussitôt, le pauvre fit jouer le
loquet, ouvrit sa petite porte, et pria le voyageur d'entrer et de passer
la nuit dans sa demeure. « Il fait déjà sombre, dit-il, et aujourd'hui vous
ne pourrez quand même pas aller plus loin. » Ces paroles firent plaisir
au bon Dieu et il entra ; la femme du pauvre lui tendit la main, lui souhai-
ta la bienvenue, lui dit de se mettre à l'aise et de les excuser : ils avaient
* Voir les quatre autres parties.
24 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [128]
bien peu de chose, mais ce qu'ils avaient, ils le donnaient de bon cœur.
Puis elle mit des pommes de terre au feu et tandis qu'elles cuisaient, elle
alla traire une chèvre, pour avoir un peu de lait à offrir.
Et quand la table fut mise, le bon Dieu s'assit auprès d'eux et mangea
avec eux, et cette misérable nourriture lui plut parce qu'il voyait des
figures satisfaites. Après qu'on eut mangé et quand il fut temps de se cou-
cher, la femme appela secrètement son mari et lui dit: « Ecoute, mon ami,
nous allons pour cette nuit nous faire un lit de paille, afin que le pauvre
voyageur puisse se coucher dans notre lit et s'y reposer ; il a marché toute
la journée et il y a de quoi être fatigué. — Bien volontiers, répondit-il, je
vais le lui offrir. » Il alla auprès du bon Dieu et le pria de vouloir bien
consentir à se coucher dans leur lit pour pouvoir s'y reposer convenable-
ment. Le bon Dieu se refusa à priver les deux vieux de leur lit, mais ils
insistèrent jusqu'à cequ'il le fit et qu'il se mît dans leur couche; pour eux-
mêmes ils arrangèrent un litdepaillesurlesol. Le lendemain, ils se levèrent
avant le jour et préparèrent à leur hôte un déjeuner du mieux qu'ilspurent.
Lorsque le soleil pénétra à travers la petite fenêtre et que le bon Dieu se
fut levé, il mangea de nouveau en leur société, puis voulut poursuivre son
chemin. Sur le seuil de la porte il dit : « Puisque vous avez été si com-
patissants et si pieux, faites trois vœux, je les exaucerai. » Le pauvre
dit : « Que puis-je souhaiter, sinon le salut éternel, et tant que nous
vivrons ensemble, la santé et le pain quotidien ; je ne sais pas ce que je
pourrais souhaiter en troisième lieu. » Le bon Dieu dit: « Ne désirerais-tu
pas une maison neuve en place de la vieille ? » Et l'homme de répliquer :
« Oui, s'il y avait moyen, cela me plairait bien. » Le Seigneur exauça
leurs vœux et changea la vieille maison en une belle maison neuve, après
quoi il les quitta et continua sa route.
[A suivre.)
Frères grimm .
{Traduit de l'allemand.)
Chasses gratuites.
Quelques journalistes, dans leur désir de populariser le plaisir de la
chasse, ont demandé l'an dernier et redemandent cette année la liberté pour
tous de chasser, tout au moins de chasser gratuitement le dimanche.
Comme le gibier a presque complètement disparu d'une grande partie
de la France, le lièvre et la perdrix passeraient rapidement dans la caté-
gorie des races d'animaux éteintes ; à ce propos, il n'est pas inopportun
de rapporter ce qui résulta d'une innovation analogue tentée en Bohême.
En Bohême, où les forêts sont immenses et bien aménagées, le gibier
abondant, on a autorisé la chasse le dimanche; voici le résultat officiel
des exploits des chasseurs nouveaux :
En 1893, ils ont tiré en moyenne chacun i ooo coups de fusil et ils ont
abattu : 27 hommes, i3 vieilles femmes, 7 petits garçons, 3 fillettes ; ils
ont, en outre, blessé 3oi/i individus.
Ils ont enfin abattu : i32 veaux, 12 vaches, 3 bœufs, 2 chevaux, 175
chèvres, 72 brebis, 56 béliers et plus de 10 000 chiens divers.
Voici ce qu'ont coûté ces exploits :
En indemnités : /ii3ooo florins ; en secours aux blessés : 633 000
florins ; en honoraires de médecins et en frais de justice : 172 000 florins,
plus 74088 heures de prison.
Avis aux amateurs !
Les Cinq Langues
N» 4.
20 Novembre 1907.
8e Année.
PARTfE FRANÇAISE
Flaubert.
\
Certaines gloires, éclatantes un temps, pâlissent et s'éteignent ensuite.
D'autres demeurent. Celle de Flaubert est de ces dernières. On vient d'élever à
ce grand écrivain un monument. Mais il en a un autre, plus durable que le
marbre, c'est son œuvre : il l'a élaborée, lentement, dans la recherche angois-
sante de la beauté, avec le souci
douloureux de la perfection, mais
elle est de celles, rares dans l'histoire
littéraire, qui, sous une forme ache-
vée, rei^résentent dans leur plénitude
une école, une époque et un talent.
Salammbô et Madame Bovary sont
pour le milieu du xix= siècle ce que
furent pour le wn" Phèdre ou le
Misanthrope.
Au moment où parut Madame
Bovary, en i856, le Romantisme
agonisait ; d'autre part Balzac, tu-
multueux et trouble génie, avait
créé le Naturalisme. La déclamation
lyrique, le moyen âge des romances '
et la défroque italienne et espa-
gnole - n'intéressaient plus ; on avait
pris goût à la vie réelle, mais cette
réalité ne s'était encore exprimée
que dans des romans diffus, compli-
qués, dénués de la qualité essentielle à nos yeux : le style. L'ouvrage de
Flaubert combina l'un et l'autre ; le monde extérieur y apparut avec une mer-
veilleuse exactitude mais présenté avec un art plus merveilleux encore.
Flaubert savait voir en effet et ne dépeignait que ce qu'il avait vu. Que ce
soit un coin de Normandie, avec son ciel changeant, ses prairies vertes et ses
pommiers : que ce soit un coin de Tunisie où, sous un ciel d'un bleu profond,
la mer splendide vient mourir sur For des sables, le paysage qu'il a regardé se
déploie, sous sa plume, avec ses traits caractéristiques, sa grâce ou sa majesté
particuhères. Qu'il s'agisse de campagnards normands, de bourgeois parisiens
ou de sénateurs carthaginois, il sait former des types, poser des personnages
animés, dessiner des physionomies inoubliables. Mais avant d'entreprendre la
peinture, il a étudié le modèle. Si ce sont des contemporains, il les a fréquentés;
si ce sont des hommes de jadis, il a, par un travail acharné, re'uni tous les ren-
seignements qui permettent d'en concevoir l'idée. Rien, dans Flaubert, n'est
Gustave Flaubert.
I. Le romantisme avait abnsé des romances moyenâgeuses, — a. Il avait abusé aussi
des sujets espagnols ou italiens.
122]
FF ANC. 4
26 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [170]
proprement inventé: il a, dans la mesure du possible, fait du roman une
construction scientifique, établie sur une solide documentation.
Mais il l'a paré, en artiste, d'une rare et subtile beauté. C'est par là surtout
qu'il reste très grand. Que l'on prenne une page, au hasard : il est peu de
mérites qui ne s'y révèlent. La langue est d'une propriété absolue et jamais
mots ne se sont mieux adajjtés aux choses ; la phrase, le plus souvent courte,
se développe, quand elle est longue, sans heurt, sans effort, avec simplicité.
Clarté, précision, ces qualités, françaises entre toutes, existent chez lui à un
degré tel que, sur ces points, il peut être égalé peut-être mais non dépassé.
Cependant il en a d'autres : il sait illuminer ou délicatement éclairer son style
d'images éblouissantes ou délicieuses, toujours avec tact et à propos ; il sait pro-
portionner les propositions, cadencer les phrases, disposer les sons, de manière
que leur suite soit pour l'oreille un plaisir exquis. Cette prose soupire, chante,
gronde, rythmée comme les plus beaux vers, variée comme une symphonie de
maître, et rien n'est smprenant comme celte alliance de l'extrême netteté avec
la plus mélodieuse des musiques.
Est-ce à dire que Flaubert soit un génie complet et qu'il réunisse en lui
toutes les perfections ? Ce qu'il a d'admirable et de presque unique ne doit pas
faire oublier ce qui lui manque. Sa psychologie, trop matérielle, saisit bien
l'influence du milieu et des circonstances physiques sur les àmcs ; mais elle
s'arrête là ; l'analyse ne descend pas assez profondément et les personnages
vivent par le dehors plus que par le dedans, par le corps plus que par le cœur. Et
puis, aristocrate et hautain, Flaubert que la sottise exaspérait, voyait surtout
les vilains côtés de l'humanité. Il l'a décrite, en la méprisant, avec une ironie
froide et dure, qui parfois attriste. Il avait la haine du vulgaire et il n'a pas
daigné comprendre ce qu'il y a quelquefoisde complexe, de touchant et même
de tragique sous la vulgarité des humbles. Il fut moins homme qu'artiste.
Mais ses qualités et ses défauts ne sont-ils pas ceux de l'école littéraire qui
l'a suivi ? Après lui devaient florir les poètes parnassiens et les romanciers na-
turalistes, Leconte de Lisle et Maupassant. Eux aussi furent des psychologues
insuffisants et des artistes supérieurs ; comme lui, ils montrèrent les aspects
magnifiques de la nature sensible et les laideurs de l'humanité ; après lui, ils
surent, tout en gardant au style la précision classique, lui donner l'éclat des
images et l'harmonie. On retrouve en lui ce qu'il y a de beau en eux. Aussi
l'honorèrent-ils comme un maître. 11 sera honoré de la postérité pour lui avoir
légué quelques pages immortelles, pour avoir cultivé son art avec une piété
passionnée, pour avoir bien mérité de cette langue française, souple comme
l'acier, limpide comme le cristal, une des plus nobles qu'un peuple ait parlée
jamais.
Max ,]asi>;ski.
Une fille à marier.
Deux jeunes gens, Desroches et Delille, tous deux Parisiens, de passage dans une
petite ville provinciale, sont reçus par Mme Guibert qui a une fille à marier et (|ui
voudrait la faire épouser à Desroches, riche, lui a-t-on dit, de 3o ooo francs de rentes.
Elle leur a offert l'hospilalilé et les a invités à un concert qu'elle doit donner le lende-
main avec l'aide d'un musicien, M. Splimann.
Desrociies. — ^ ous voyez, madame, que nous ne nous sommes pas fait
attendre.
Mme Gtjibert. — Vous n'avez encore fardé que trop longtemps, messieurs.
Flore. — Oui, trop longtemps.
[171] PARTIE FRANÇAISE
Delille. — Notre Dubois' va dans l'inslant apporter tous nos efîets. En
vérité, madame, je rougis de l'embarras que nous allons vous causer.
^Ime GuiBEUT. — Ne parlez donc pas de cela, je vous en prie, messieurs.
Voulez-vous bien permettre que je vous présente ma fille ') {A Flore.) Saluez.
Desroches. — Ah ! mademoiselle.
Delille. — Enchanté...
Flore. — Messieurs. . . [Bas à sa mère.) Lequel des deux, ma mère ?
Mme Guxbert {bas à sa fille). — Le plus jeune, celui qui est à côté de moi. {Aux
deux jeunes gens.) C'est mon enfant unique. L'espérance de la bien établir ^ a
pu seule me consoler de la perte d'un époux que je pleure tous les jours.. Je
n'ai rien négligé pour' perfectionner son éducation ; mais vous sentez que, dans
une petite ville de province, on n'a pas les moyens... Elle est un peu timide,
mais un cœur excellent, un esprit cultivé. (A sa fille.) Parlez donc.
Flore. — Oui, ma mère.
^Ime GuiBERT (à sa fille). — Taisez-vous donc. Est-ce ainsi qu'on doit
répondre !'
Flore. — Mais, ma mère, que voulez-vous que je dise ?
Mme GuiBERT. — Paix ! {Aux deux jeunes gens.) Mon frère me marque que
vous aimez beaucoup la musique; ma fille a une voix céleste, une méthode
exquise ; si vous m'aviez fait l'amitié de venir avant diner, au dessert, je
l'aurais fait chanter.
Delille. — Eh I qu'importe ! Quoique nous ne soyons plus au dessert. . .
Desroches. — Nous serions enchantés d'entendre mademoiselle.
^Ime GuiBERT. — La voilà toute confuse ; c'est que vous l'intimidez : des
messieurs de Paris... Et puis elle a la malheureuse habitude de se faire beau-
coup prier.
Delille. — Oh ! s'il ne s'agit que de prier... ^lademoiselle, nous vous con-
jurons, nous vous supplions. . .
Desroches. — Vous n'avez pas besoin d'indulgence, je suis sùr^ et je me
joins à mon ami.
Flore. — C'est qu'en vérité. . . je n'ose.
Mme GuiBEKT. — Osez, mademoiselle.
Flore. — Et. . . je suis enrhumée, je crois.
Mme GuiBERT. — Qu'est-ce que vous dites donc ? Vous avez toujours des
rhumes qui vous prennent mal à propos.
Flore. — Mais, ma mère, que chanterai-je 1"
Mme GuiBERT. — Ce qui vous plaira. Allons, tenez-vous droite, et chantez.
Flore {toussant). — Hem. . . hem... je suis vraiment fort embarrassée.
(En parlant tout d'un coup d'un ^ grand éclat de voix.)
Non, non, non, j'ai trop de fierté
Pour me soumettre à l'esclavage.
Mme GuiBERT. — Quelle chanson choisissez-vous donc là ?
Flore. — Mais, ma mère, que voulez-vous donc que je chante ?
Mme GuiBERT. — Mais, mademoiselle, on chante du nouveau; par exemple :
Ah ! que les nœuds du mariage
A mes jeu^ ofTrenl de douceur !
Delille. — Ah 1 oui, mademoiselle, celle-là : elle est charmante et beaucoup
plus analogue '' à la situation.
Flore tousse et chante.
Ali ! que les nœuds du mariage
A mes yeux offrent de douceur I
L'amour est vif, il est volage ;
I. Leur domestique. — 2. marier. - 3. avec un... — 4. convenable.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE L^72]
L'hymen seul fait le vrai bonheur.
La félicité la plus pure,
C'est l'union de deux époux ;
C"est dans l'hymen que la nature
Plaça ses plaisirs les plus doux.
Ali ! que les nœuds du mariage, etc.
Desroches. — Comme un ange, mademoiselle, comme un ange.
Mme GuiBERT. — Oui, comme un ange, comme une sotte ! Elle chante ordi-
'nairement mille fois mieux; et puis elle ne sait pas donner d'expression aux
paroles : elles sont si tendres !
Flore. — Mais, ma mère, ce n'est pas ma faute ; il m'a pris une extinction
de voix dans la roulade.
Desroches. — Ne grondez pas mademoiselle. On ne chante pas plus
agréablement.
Delille. —Oh ! sans doute. [A part.) Attends, je vais t'en dégoûter tout à
fait. (Haut.) Mon ami, la voix de mademoiselle doit te plaire, car elle te rap-
pelle sans doute, comme à moi, la voix d'une personne qui t'est bien chère,
ne trouves-tu pas ?
Desroches. — Et de qui donc ?
Delille. — Eh I mais vraiment, de ta femme.
Desroches. — De ma femme ?
Mme Guibert. — De sa femme !
Flore. — Ah ! mon Dieu ! de sa femme !
Desroches (à Delille). — Qu'est-ce que tu dis donc ?
Deluxe {bas à Desroches). — Laisse-moi faire. [Haut.) C'est le même timbre ^
le même éclat, la même étendue.
Mme Guibert. — Comment, monsieur, vous êtes marié ?
Desroches, — Qui ? moi, madame ?
Delille. — Oui, madame, il est marié. {Bas à Desroches.) Dis comme moi.
(Haut.) Une femme charmante. (1 Desroches.) J'ai mes raisons pour agir ainsi.
[Haut.) 11 y a six mois qu'il a épousé une jeune veuve. {A Desroches.) Tu vas
voir. (Haut.) J'ai été un des témoins.
Mme Guibert. — En vérité, monsieur... je vous en fais mon sincère compli-
ment et je suis charmée que vous ayez fait un choix... (A sa fille.) Laissez-nous,
mademoiselle.
Delille {bas à Desroches). — Sens-tu "le motif des politesses ? (//fl«<.) Eh
quoi ! nous priver sitôt de la vue de votre aimable fille ?
Mme Guibert. — Je vous demande pardon, messieurs; mais elle a ses occu-
pations, ses leçons.
Flore (à sa mère). — Mais, ma mère, l'autre n'est peut-être pas marié.
Mme Guibert. — Qu'est-ce que vous dites, impertinente? Sortez, vous
dis-je.
Flore. — Ma mère, faudra-t-il prévenir M. Spliinann pour le concert de
demain ?
Mme Guibert. — Un concert ? Y pensez vous ? Est-ce la saison des concerts
quand tout le monde est en vendange ^ 1*
Flore {faisant la révérence). — Messieurs, j'ai bien l'honneur...
Mme Guibert. — (Test bon, c'est bon; laissez-nous.
{Flore s'en va.)
Picard.
5 son. — 6. Coinprends-hi. — 7. Tout le monde est occupé aux vendanges.
[173]
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
29
Petites villes.
Petite ville, douce amie
Dans la paix du soir endormie,
Tu souris dans le matin clair
Quand le printemps parfume l'air,
Et tu le remplis à l'automne
Des soupirs du vent monotone.
Ville sombre aux vieilles maisons,
Jardins aux calmes horizons.
Boulevards frais, étroites rues
Du matin au soir parcourues
Par les mêmes petits enfants,
Si fragiles et si vivants;
Remparts déserts, ruelles vides.
Ponts tremblant sur les mille rides
De l'onde qui vient se plisser.
Moire que rien ne peut froisser,
Hors le long baiser de la lune
Qui se pose sur l'arche brune ;
Pavés moussus, vieux puits fleuris,
Silence plein de joyeux cris
D'enfanls, de moineaux, d'hiron-
delles...]
0 villes, que vous êtes belles.
Vous qu'entoure la j^aix des champs,
A l'heure des soleils couchants ;
Et quand de la forêt voisine
Alonte l'haleine qu'on devine
Du printemps tiède, liumideet doux,
Qui, sur les branches d'émail roux '
Des arbres, jaunis par l'automne.
Met le frais bourgeon qui frissonne;
Ou quand vient l'hiver aux ciels gris.
Que vos bassins d'argent sont pris
Au filet du gel - sous les ombres
Des arbres dépouillés et sombres ;
Quand vos toits bleuâtres et bruns
S'enveloppent de lourds embruns ! . . .
O villes, que vous savez plaire
Lorsque sur vous la lune claire
Verse son tendre enchantement !
Dans votre mol enlizement
Les âmes vivent, apaisées...
Le silence de vos musées.
Que trouble à peine un pas discret.
Est favorable au grand secret
Que disent les blanches statues
Lorsque les lèvres se sont tues ;
I. Les branches, de couleur rousse,
sont lustrées comme TémaiL — a. pris
par la gelée comme par un filét.
Et l'on sent battre un cœur vivant
Dans la rue où l'on va, rêvant,
Entouré de choses connues
Et de figures déjà vues,
Uù l'on retrouvera demain.
Parcourant le même chemin.
L'ami que l'on croisait la veille.
Le même oiseau, la même abeille...
Comme une sainte en oraison.
Avec la riche floraison
De son auréole irisée
L'église gothique est posée ;
Ainsi que d'un cœur entr'ouvert.
Sur son beau toit de cuivre vert
S'élance la flèche de flamme
Qui monte au ciel, emportant l'âme
Loin des luttes et des combats
Où l'on se déchire ici-bas :
Tandis que le corps se repose
Sous la pierre où la mousse pose
L'or des tapis de velours doux
Où le fils se met à genoux
Pour pleurer les morts dont les vies.
Par la tendresse épanouies.
En s'unissant firent jaillir
Joie et beauté pour l'avenir •=.
Et les tintements de la cloche.
Annonçant que la nuit est proche,
Versent des bénédictions...
Sur les façades à pignons
Descend lentement l'ombre grise...
Comme un oiseau la vie est prise
Dans la chambre aux volets épais
Où, le soir, on goûte la paix.
Près du tison qu'une main pousse
En écoutant la chanson douce
Que, sous la lampe de cristal,
Dit la bouilloire de métal,
Derrière ces fenêtres closes
Qu'enguirlandent lierres et roses,
De beaux petits enfants naîtront
Qui peut-être un jour deviendront
Des saints, des héros, des génies !
A cause d'eux soyez bénies,
0 villes aux vieilles maisons.
Vous que caressent les saisons.
Tendrement, comme des amies...
Beaucoup vous disent endormies ;
Mais, c'est que vous gardez pour eux
Le temps de vivre et d'être heureux.
Emilie Arnal.
3. le fils pleure ses parents morts. Le
passage est un peu trop contourné.
30 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [174]
Sur un paquebot.
La scène se passait en 1847 ^^^i' un navire à voile. Elle se reproduit souvent
aujourd'hui sur les paquebots à vapeur. Quel voyageur n'a pas rencontré, aux
environs de la Palestine, des familles orientales, des popes en pèlerinage, un
Marseillais bavard, le tout pèle-mèle à l'avant du vaisseau!'
L'avant du paquebot était infiniment plus amusant que l'arrière '. Les
haillons les plus pittoresques, les types de race les plus variés, se pres-
saient sur des nattes, sur des matelas, sur des tapis troués, rayonnants
de l'éclat de ce soleil splendide qui les couvrait d'un manteau d'or. L'œil
étincelant, les dents blanches, le rire insouciant des montagnards ; l'atti-
tude patriarcale - des pauvres familles kurdes, çà et là groupées à l'ombre
des voiles, comme sous les tentes du désert ; l'imposante gravité de cer-
tains émirs, plus riches d'ancêtres que de piastres ^ et qui, comme Don
Quichotte, semblaient se dire : « Partout où je m'assieds je suis à la place
d'honneur », tout cela sans doute valait bien la compagnie de quelques
touristes taciturnes et d'un certain nombre de Turcs cérémonieux ^.
Le Marseillais m'avait conduit en causant jusqu'à une place où il avait
étendu son matelas auprès d'un autre occupé par un prêtre grec et sa
femme qui faisaient le pèlerinage de Jérusalem. C'étaient deux vieillards
de fort bonne humeur qui avaient lié déjà une étroite amitié avec le Mar-
seillais. Ces gens possédaient un corbeau qui saulelait sur leurs genoux et
sur leurs pieds et partageait leur maigre déjeuner. Le Marseillais me fit
asseoir près de lui et tira d'une caisse un énorme saucisson et une bou-
teille de forme européenne .
— Si vous n'aviez pas déjeuné tout à l'heure, me dit-il, je vous offrirais
de ceci ; mais vous pouvez bien en goûter : c'est du saucisson d'Arles,
monsieur ; cela rendrait l'appétit à un mort ! . . . Voyez ce qu'ils vous ont
donné à manger, aux premières ^\ toutes leurs conserves de roastbeef et de
légumes qu'ils tiennent dans des boîtes de fer blanc, si cela vaut ' une
bonne rondelle de saucisson, que '' la larme en coule sur le couteau ! . .
Vous pouvez traverser le désert avec cela dans votre poche et vous ferez
encore bien des politesses aux Arabes », qui vous diront qu'ils n'ont
jamais rien mangé de meilleur.
Le Marseillais, pour prouver son assertion, découpa deux tranches et
les offrit au pope grec et à sa femme qui ne manquèrent pas de faire hon-
neur à ce régal.
— Seulement cela pousse toujours à boire, reprit-il. . . Voilà du vin de
la Camargue qui vaut mieux que le vin de Chypre, s'entend comme ordi-
naire ^ . . Mais il faudrait une tasse ; moi, quand je suis seul, je bois à
même la bouteille.
Le pope tira de dessous ses habits une sorte de coupe en argent couverte
d'ornements repoussés "^ d'un travail ancien et qui portait à l'intérieur
des traces de dorure. Peut-être était-ce un calice d'église. Le sang de la
I . L'avant du paquebot était réservé aux passagers de deuxième classe ; l'arrière à ceux
de première. — 2. paisible et ttn peu majestueuse, comme celle qu'on suppose aux
patriarches. — 3. plus nobles que riches. — h. Les Turcs, plus riches, étaient à l'ar-
rière. — 5. aux passagers de première classe. — 6. Phrase incorrecte mais fréquente dans
le langage populaire : Voyez si ce qu'ils vous ont donné. . . . vaut. ... — 7. si bien que. . .
incorrect, mais populaire. Ce Marseillais est un homme peu instruit. — 8. en offrirez
aux Arabes. Populaire. — 9. naturellement, comme vin ordinaire. — 10. en relief.
[175 1 PARTIE FRANÇAISE 31
grappe perlait joyeusement dans le vermeil ". Il y avait si longtemps que
je n'avais bu du vin rouge, et j'ajouterai même du vin français, que je
vidai la tasse sans faire de façons '^ Le pope et sa femme n'en étaient pas
à faire connaissance '^ avec le vin du Marseillais.
— Voyez-vous ces braves gens-là, me dit celui-ci ; ils ont peut-être à
eux deux un siècle et demi, et ils ont voulu voir la Terre-Sainte avant de
mourir. Ils vont célébrer la cinquantaine de leur mariage à Jérusalem ;
ils avaient des enfants qui sont morts ; ils n'ont plus à présent que ce cor-
beau. Eh bien ! c'est égal '+, ils s'en vont remercier le bon Dieu.
Le pope, qui comprenait que nous parlions de lui, souriait d'un air
bienveillant sous son toquet noir ; la bonne vieille, dans ses longues dra-
peries bleues, de laine, me faisait songer au type austère de Rébecca.
Gérard de Nerval.
II. argent doré. — 12. sans hésitation. — i3. connaissaient depuis longtemps
moins. Populaire.
Le pauvre et le riche*.
II
Lorsqu'il fit grand jour, le riche se leva, se mit à la fenêtre, et il
aperçut une belle maison neuve à l'endroit où s'élevait auparavant une
vieille cabane. Il ouvrit de grands yeux, appela sa femme et dit : « Regarde
un peu, ma femme, comment cela s'est-il fait? Hier il y avait là-bas une
misérable hutte et maintenant c'est une belle maison neuve : cours-y et
apprends ce qui s'est passé. » La femme s'y rendit et interrogea le pauvre
qui raconta : « Hier au soir est venu un voyageur qui cherchait un gite et
ce matin en nous quittant il nous a accordé trois souhaits : le salut éternel,
la santé ici-bas et le pain quotidien par- dessus le marché, et, au lieu de
notre cabane, une belle maison neuve. « Après avoir en tendu cela, la femme
du riche s'en alla en toute hâte narrer à son mari comment la chose s'était
passée. Celui-ci dit: « Jevoudraismemettreen pièces etme rouerde coups.
Ah ! si j'avais su cela ! L'étranger est aussi venu chez moi, mais je l'ai ren-
voyé. — Dépêche-toi, fit la femme, monte à cheval, l'homme n'est pas
loin, rattrape-le et tâche qu'il t'exauce trois souhaits. »
Le riche monta à cheval, rattrapa le bon Dieu et lui adressa des paroles
gracieuses et aimables, lepriantde l'excuser de ne l'avoir pas laissé pénétrer
aussitôt dans sa demeure : il avait cherché la clef de la maison, et pendant
ce temps le voyageur était parti ; s'il repassait par ce chemin, il devait ne pas
manquer d'entrer chez lui. « Oui, répondit le bon Dieu, si je reviens quel-
que jour je le ferai. » Puis le riche demanda s'il ne pouvait pas formuler
trois vœux comme son voisin. Le bon Dieu reprit qu'il le pouvait, mais
pour lui cela ne valait rien, il ferait mieux de ne rien souhaiter. Le riche
pensa pourtant qu'il saurait bien choisir un bon souhait, s'il était sur de le
voir rempli.
Le bon Dieudit : «Va, rentre et trois vœux que tu feras seront exaucés. ;>
Frères Grimm.
(A .navre.) {Traduit de V allemand.)
* Voir les quatre autres parties.
^- PARTIE FRANÇAISE [176]
Voyage dans la Lune.
Cette jolie fantaisie est une analyse d'un épisode d'un poème fameux : le
Roland furieux, chef-d'œuvre d'Arioste.
Un jour Astolphe, brave paladin, se trouva dans le paradis terrestre,
qui était sur la cime d'une montagne très haule, où son hippogriffe' l'avait
porté. Là il rencontra Saint- Jean qui lui dit que. pour guérir la folie de
Roland', il était nécessaire ([u'ils fissent ensemble le voyage de la Lune.
Astolphe, qui ne demandait qu'à voir du pays^, ne se fait point prier, et
aussitôt voilà un chariot de feu qui enlève par^ les airs l'apôtre et le paladin.
Comme Astolphe n'était pas grand philosophe^ il fut fort surpris de voir
la Lune beaucoup plus grande qu'elle ne lui avait paru de dessus la terre.
Il fut bien phis surpris encore d'y voir d'autres fleuves, d'autres lacs,
d'autres montagnes, d'autres villes, d'autres forêts, et, ce qui m'aurait
bien surpris aussi, des Nymphes qui chassaient dans ces forêts. Mais ce
qu'il vit de plus rare dans la Lune, c'était un vallon où se trouvait tout ce
qui se perdait sur la Terre, de quelque espèce qu'il fût, et les couronnes.
et les richesses, et la renommée, et une infinité d'espérances, et le temps
qu'on donne au jeu, et les aumônes qu'on fait faire après sa mort, et les
vers qu'on présente aux princes
Mais devinez de quelle sorte de chose on ne trouve point dans la Lune ?
De la folie. Tout ce qu'il y en a jamais eu sur la Terre s'y est très bien
conservé. En récompense*^ il n'est pas croyable combien il y a dans la Lune
d'esprits perdus. Ce sont autant de fioles, pleines d'une liqueur fort sub-
tile, et qui s'évapore aisément si elle n'est enfermée ; et sur chacune de ces
fioles est écrit le nom de celui à qui l'esprit appartient. Je crois quel'Arioste
les met toutes en un tas ; mais j'aime mieux me figurer qu'elles sont
rangées bien proprement dans de longues galeries.
Astolphe fut fort étonné de A^oir que les fioles de beaucoup de gens qu'il
avait crus très sages étaient pourtant bien pleines ; et, pour moi. je suis
persuadé que la mienne s'est remplie considérablement depuis que je vous
entretiens de visions'^ tantôt philosophiques, tantôt poétiqu-îs. Mais, ce
qui me console, c'est qu'il n'est pas possible que, par tout ce que je vous
dis, je ne vous fasse avoir bientôt aussi une petite fiole dans la Lune.
Le bon paladin ne manqua pas de trouver la sienne parmi tant d'autres.
11 s'en saisit avec la permission de Saint-Jean et reprit tout son esprit par
le nez, comme de l'eau de la Reine de Hongrie** ; mais l'Arioste dit qu'il
ne le porta pas bien loin et qu'il le laissa retourner dans la Lune par une
fohe qu'il fit à quelque temps de là ^..11 n'oublia pas la fiole de Roland qui
était le sujet du voyage. 11 eut assez de peine à la porter ; car l'esprit de ce
héros était de sa nature assez pesant, et il n'en manquait pas une seule
goutte.
Fo^'TENELLE.
I. Sorte de clieval ailé. — 2. Le héros du poème. — 3. qu'à voyager. — /j. à travers. —
5. savant éclairé. Sens vieilli. — G. en revanche. — 7. de rêves, de chimères. — 8. Sorte de
parfum en vogue au temps de Fonlenelle. — 9. peu après.
Les Cinq Langues
N" 5.
5 Décembre 1907.
8« Année.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
La mort de Torquato Tasso.
M. de Boncliatid vient de faire paraître un ouvrage où, comparant la vérité historique
à la pièce de Gœttie, il montre que le poète allemand a pris bien des libertés avec les
faits et que son drame « aboutit, en dernière analyse, à donner libre cours à l'exaltation
de la muse allemande ». Voici un extrait de cet ouvrage, à la fois docte et de lecture
captivante, comme l'est toute la prose de notre éniinent collaborateur.
Nous avons laissé le poète enfermé comme fou à riiôpilalSainle-Anne. Le mal-
heureux trouvait les jours d'au-
tant plus longs à s'écouler que sa
folie avait des intervalles lucides',
durant lescjuels il pouvait juger
son propre état et comprendre
toute la misère de sa condition.
Torquato ne cessait de réclamer
du duc Alphonse - sa liberté. Il
s'adressait aussi aux princes ita-
liens, aux cardinaux influents, au
Pape même pour obleiiir son
élargissement. Ces lettres étaient
souvent interceptées par Alphonse
d'Esté, qui conlinuait à faire la
sourde oreille 3. Ce ne fut cju'en
i586, sur les instances de son
propre beau-frère, Vincent de
Gonzague, qu'il consentit à ou-
vrir à Tasse les ijortes de Sainte-
Anne.
Le poêle avait à cette époque
c|uarante- deux ans ; il laissait
dans sa prison deux trésors dé-
sormais irrécouvrables : son ta-
lent et sa fierté.
Le premier acte du malheureux, quand il se trouva hors de l'asile Sainte- Anne,
fut de désavouer publiquement la Jérusalem délivrée, imprimée sans son
autorisation et qu'il prétendait contraire à l'esprit de l'Église ou susceptible de
l'exposer aux coups de l'Inquisition.
Il oubliait, l'infortuné, que, moins d'une année auparavant, il avait composé,
dans sa prison même, une apologie de cette Jérusalem délivrée, dans laquelle
il réfutait les critiques haineuses c^ue l'Académie florentine delta Crusca
avait adressées à cet ouvrage. Il se mettait presque de suite alors à composer
une Jérusalem conquise, sur le plan tracé par les Inquisiteurs, et il espérait faire
oublier par ce nouveau poème son chef-d'œuvre qui n'avait pas eu moins
Le Tasse (1544-1595).
I . par intervalles sa folie cessait,
n'en tenait aucun compte.
128]
2. Alphonse d'Esté qui le tenait en prison. — 3.
FRANC. 5
3't PARTIE FRANÇAISE [218^
de sept éditions déjà 1 « Puisse ma nouvelle trompette aux sons angéliques,
disait Torquato dans l'invocation de sa nouvelle œuvre, réduire au silence celle
dont le fracas remplit encore le monde ! »
Hélas ! Il se trompait cruellement ! La Jérusalem conquise, poème en vingt-
quatre chants, tombée dans un oubli mérité, n'est qu'un faible écho du poème^
dans lequel il avait dépensé toute la verve de sa jeunesse. Elle parut seulement
en iSgS, en même temps que deux poèmes religieux : Les larmes de Jésus et
Les larmes de Marie, écrits durant sa captivité et tous deux parfaitement négli-
geables. On peut en dire autant de l'épopée sur la Création intitulée : Les sept
journées, qui parut à Viterbe, après sa mort, en l'année 1607.
Accueilli honorablement à Mantoue par les Gonzague, à Florence par les
Médicis, à Naples par la haute société et par son ami Manso da Villa, à Rome
par tous les lettrés, le poète ne peut retrouver désormais ni le calme ni le bon-
heur. Il se lance dans un interminable procès pour rentrer en possession de
l'héritage de sa mère que sa qualité d'exilé des 1-^tat.s napolitains l'empêchait de
récupérer. Ame brisée, il erre de ville en ville, luttant contre la misère et en
proie à une insurmontable mélancolie, quand ce n'est pas à des accès de folie
furieuse. 11 ne se sert plus de ses vers que pour célébrer les Grands' auxquels il
demande dessubsides. Fiançailles, mariages, morts, tout lui est sujet à compo-
sitions poétiques, à éloges, à panégyriques. Sa santé, de plus en plus débile,
l'oblige à de longs chômages ^. La tète, la poitrine, l'estomac, les entrailles,
tout lui fait mal. A chaque instant, dans ses lettres, il se plaint de son défaut
de mémoire. Les médecins lui prodiguent en vain les eaux, les bains, les cau-
tères, les purgations, la saignée, l'ellébore : rien n'y fait. De tels traitements
l'éprouvent "' plus qu'ils ne lui font du bien.
il tombe dans un dénuement moral si complet qu'il s'écrie : « J'ai presque
oublié que j'ai été élevé en gentilhouîme. Hélas ! je ne suis rien, je ne sais
rien, je ne puis rien, je ne veux rien . . »
Incapable de médire et de satiriser^, il va jusqu'à laisser, quand il refait sa
Jérusalem, quelques vers à la louange de son ancien geôlier, Alphonse de
Fcrrare. Tout lui est bon pourvu qu'il ait un peu d'argent. Oh le malheureux I
Cependant l'heure de la réparation va sonner. Le cardinal Aldobrandini,
ami des lettres et des arts, devenu pape sous le nom de Clément VllI, voulut
ranimer dans l'âme découragée du poète le sentiment de la vie avec celui de la
gloire. 11 lui réservait le triocnphe et le couronnement au Capitole, vieille cou-
tume de la Rome païenne, remise en honneur pour Pétrarque deux siècles
auparavant. Une pension lui était en même temps assignée sur le trésor pon-
tifical et même, ô bonheur inattendu! le prince d'Avellino, qui l'avait frustré
de son héritage maternel, s'engageait à lui fournir une rente annuelle do deux
cents ducats.
Mais il était trop lard. Les préparatifs de la fête romaine n'étaient pas encore
achevés que l'illustre poète était saisi d'une fièvre violente. Il avait trop lutté,
trop soutîert ; ses forces étaient à bout ^. « Ce qui prouva la gravité de son
état, ce fut Pocil d'inditfcrence dont il considéra les apprêts de son triomphe.
Sa passion dominante, l'amour de la gloire, était éteinte dans son cœur. Las et
détrompé de toutes choses, il n'aspirait plus qu'au repos, à l'éternel repos »
Pressentant sa fin prochaine, il ne .songea plus qu'à s'y préparer. 11 se fit trans-
porter au couvent des lliéronymitcs de Saint-Onuphre le 1"='' avril i5(j5, et le
a'i du même mois, il rendait à Dieu son âme inquiète et géniale, à Rome, dans
les murs qu'habita Philippe de Néri, sur cette colline et à deux pas de ce jar-
din où s'élève encore l'énorme chêne qui abrita les dernières pensées du poète
moribond et d'où il ijut embrasser une dernière fois un des plus beaux paysa-
ges du monde. . . Pi^j-rc „e Bouch.\ud 'o.
U. rappelait vaguement le pome. — 5. les noblex. — G. inteiruplions. — 7. le font souf-
frir. — S. faire des vers satiriques. — g. épuisées. — 10. Gcïitue et Le Tasse, p. 76.
Paris, clicz Lemerre. Prix: 3 fr.Bo.
[219] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 3o
Une auberge espagnole.
L'auteur raconte un voyage en diligence de Grenade à Lorca. A un moment, la voi-
ture arrive, à travers des rochers, à une venta (auberge).
En Espagne, la venta est toujours saluée avec plaisir par le voyageur. C'est
généralement une maison isolée, ouverte à tous les vents, dans laqvielle on
trouve à boire et à manger... si Ton n'est pas délicat ! Je me souviens de cette
venta, sur le bord de la route, entre deux énormes blocs de rocher, où s'arrê-
tèrent nos mules. J'éprouvai une singulière impression de soulagement lors-
que, quittant le coche, je pus parcourir à pas rapides les abords de la venta
pour me dégourdir les jambes. Mais j'éprouvai aussi le besoin impérieux de
satisfaire mon estomac à jeun depuis le départ.
J'entrai dans la venta où s'offrit à mes yeux ébahis un spectacle des plus
caractéristiques.
Au milieu d'une vaste pièce, dont le sol était tel que la nature l'avait formé,
se trouvait un immense chaudron dans lequel bouillait une mixture quelcon-
que, remuée à l'aide d'une grande palette de bois par une plantureuse ' fille
de la montagne. Autour de ce foyer, surélevé d'un pied au-dessus du sol,
étaient assis une douzaine de personnages, hommes ou femmes, dans les cos-
tumes les plus pittoresques : les hommes en chapeaux pointus, les bords '^
étroits et retombants, ornés de bandes de velours vert ou jaune, avec des pom-
pons de peluche à chaque tour de velours ; des vestes ne dépassant pas la taille,
ornées de passementeries marron sur un fond couleur de tabac -^ ; sous la veste,
largement ouverte, une sorte de gilet qui ressemble à une cotte d'armes *,
tant il est brodé de fils de cuivre. Avec leurs culottes ouvertes près du genou
et agrémentées ■' de boutons dorés et d'un filigrane doré aussi qui recouvre la
couture des côtés, leur ceinture rouge enserrant le bas du gilet et le haut des
culottes, une cravate bariolée nouée en corde '^ et retombant dans l'entre-
bâillement du gilet, voilà les Espagnols del Puerto (de la gorge de la mon-
tagne).
Gomme eux, je m'approchai du foyer : l'air était vif à l'entrée de cette
gorge. D'un œil inquisiteur, je furetai autour de la salle pour découvrir d'au-
tres pi'éparatifs culinaires que le fricot qui bouillait dans le chaudron ; mais ce
fut en pure perte, car il n'y avait rien d'autre que de gros choux crus posés
sur un banc et, suspendus au plafond, deux horribles saucissons dont le boyau
ratatiné n'avait rien d'engageant ^. Mon œil inquiet revint donc vers le chau-
dron juste au moment où la fille y plongeait une grande cuiller en bois qu'elle
retira pleine d'un ragoût rien moins que tentant ^. J'eus un frisson de dégoût
en voyant cette sauce pleuvoir dans l'assiette. 11 y avait de tout : de la viande
innommable, des os de jjoulets, des choux verts et des carottes rouges, avec des
piments plus rouges encore et des tranches de pommes de terre blanches.
Celait Voila podrida! Le nom seul vous rassasie : la marmite pourrie. Je n'avai<;
plus faim.
Pourtant, ne me voyant pas prendre d'assiette, ou plutôt d'écuelle (car c'était
dans de larges et peu profondes écuelles que l'on servait ce mets national de la
montagne), le cocher '' me prévint charitablement que nous ne trouverions
plus rien à manger avant le soir, lard, à l'arrivée à Guadix. Je m'approchai du
banc où se trouvait le chou cru et, saisissant un des saucissons susjjcndus au
plafond, je l'écorchai et me mis en devoir de satisfaire ma faim ; ce fut un
véritable repas de caraïbe ^o. Je mouillai cela de deux verres de vin et je sortis
respirer l'air pur de la montagne. . .
I. grosse. — 2. les bords du chapeau. — 3. brun clair. — !i. Cuirasse souple faite en
lames d'acier. — 5. ornées. — 6. comme vue corde. — 7. On sait que la peau ratatinée
indique que le saucisson est vieux. — 8. j)oint du tout appétissant. — g. Le cocher de la
diligence. — 10. de saucage.
36 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [220]
La marmite était vide quand je revins ; la fumée des cigares avait remplacé
celle du foyer.
Nous remontâmes en coche, et hue ! mes mules jolies !
Victor FoROT.
Prix de vertu.
Tous les ans, l'Académie française accorde des prix à ceux qui se sont distingués soit
par des actes de dévouement, soit par une vie de sacrifice, noble en son obscurité. Ces
prix sont décernés dans une séance solennelle et un académicien, désigné par ses
confrères, lit un rapport. Ces rapports, vrais bulletins annuels de la vertu française, méri-
teraient d'rtre plus connus. Rien n'est consolant comme leur lecture. Ils enseignent
que, malgré les pessimistes, il ne faut pas désespérer de l'humanité et que, malgré les
calomnies, la France a toujours des enfants dignes d'elle.
Nos lecteurs en jugeront par cet extrait du rapport de l'année igo/i, écrit par M. Her-
vieu, et qu'un hasard a fait tomber entre nos mains. 11 s'agit d'un douanier, Jean-
René Morvan, père de six enfants.
Il y a treize ans, à Loctudy, trois enfants s'aventurent en périssoire. Un cou-
rant les entraîne vers le large. Ils se jugent perdus. Leurs clameurs ont attiré
du monde sur la plage ; et les spectateurs ne savent que pousser ce cri d'un
altruisme si ingénu * sur la lèvre des hommes : « Il faudrait un homme ! ... »
En voici un : Jean-René Morvan. 11 se jette à la mer. Par de vigoureuses bras-
sées, il atteint jusque vers les petits. Mais pour cjue le survenant monte avec
eux, l'embarcation est trop frêle. Que faire ? Le sauveteur saisit entre ses dents
le bout d'amarre qui pend de l'esquif. Et remorquant malgré le flot con-
traire, toujours nageant pendant des centaines de mètres, il cingle droit vers la
côle, le col - cambré sur les vagues, le front haut. On nous a conservé, après
trois mille ans, le renom d'un loup de mer qui auiait eu pareille mâchoire
dans la baie de Marathon^
Un dernier trait : Par un matin de beau temps, tous les bateaux de pèche
sont sortis du port où Morvan est sous-brigadier des douanes. Cela fait six cents
hommes qui sont, là-bas, à lever leurs filets. Toutefois la mer s'est mise à
grossir. Des vieux, sur le rivage, se communiquent bienlôt l'impression que,
depuis longtemps, on ne l'a pas vue déferler avec tant de furie. Il y a un mas-
caret qui va rendre bien dangereux le retour des barques. Vers deux heures de
l'après-midi, on songe à mettre à l'eau le canot de sauvetage. Mais par qui le
faire monter ? Son équipage régulier est en mer, dans le nombre des pécheurs :
ce sont les sauveteurs eux-mêmes qui auraient besoin d'être sauvés... On fait
appel à des volontaires ; on en trouve sept. Cependant aucun d'eux n'a le
crâne ♦ d'un chef. Le commandement est offert à Morvan. Vous pensez bien
qu'il accepte aussitôt... Le voilà parti! Et déjà il n'apparaît plus que par in-
tervalles dans les embruns, sous les panaches d'écume... Pendant cinq heures,
le canot qui lui obéissait resta sur la barre, chevauchant les lames, prêt à
bondir à gauche, à droite, au secours des premiers qui feraient naufrage. Celte
présence empêchait que l'angoisse de six cents êtres humains devînt de la folie,
alors qu'à demi déshabillés, ils étaient prêls, dans cette perdition, à sauler de
leurs bords s pour se battre tout de suite, corps à corps, avec l'eau. Jean-René
.Morvan n'eut personne à sauver, ce jour là ; mais on peut affirmer que, mora-
lement, il sauva une flotte, et qu'habitué à voir la mort, il ne l'a pourtant
jamais dévisagée de plus près.
Ce héros est titulaire"' de deux médailles d'argent, d'une médaille d'or, de
deux médailles d'honneur.
I. Chacun pense ingénument aux autres, non à lui. — a. le cou. — 3. Allusion à
l'histoire de l'Athénien qui saisit un navire perse avec un bras, puis avec l'autre, enfin
avec les dents, —h la télé, au figuré. Expression un peu étrange. — 5. de leurs
bateaux, terme maritime. — C. il a reçu...
[221] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 37
Le marbre artificiel.
Aujourd'hui, le marbre artificiel se fabrique couramment, comme toutes les
pierres d'ailleurs, et la Revue générale de la consiruction en donne une recette
simple et facile à mettre en œuvre. Nous la signalerons, non pour pousser dans
la voie du luxe et aux satisfactions de la vanité, mais parce qu'elle donne le
moyen de construire, dans les habitations, des parois évidemment plus hygié-
niques cjue les enduits déplâtre et d'autres matières poreuses.
Les ingrédients à employer se ti'ouvent facilement : plâtre, alun pulvérisé,
poudre de marbre, colle forte ; c'est tout. Avec de l'eau, on forme une pâte
qui, en se desséchant, acquiert l'aspect du marbre naturel.
Ce marbre artificiel, aujourd'hui très commun, est généralement livré sous
forme de plaques destinées au revêtement des murs d'appartement ou encore
à la confection de plateaux pour tables ou de dalles pour parquets et escaliers.
Pour obtenir ces plaques, on coule le mélange indiqué plus haut dans un
moule dont le fond est formé par une jolaque de verre et les bords par un
cadre mobile ; on attend, pour démouler, que la masse soit bien prise.
On peut imiter le ton chaud ' des marbres antiques. Si l'on dissout dans
l'eau qui sert à la confection de la pâte une légère quantité d'hydrate de fer,
cette substance, au bout de quelque temps, sous l'influence de l'air, se trans-
forme en un oxyde et la plaque de marbre prend une teinte crème. La colo-
ration bleuâtre est obtenue par l'incorporation d'une solution de cuivre. Quant
à la teinte rose, tant recherchée, elle est réalisée par l'addition d'une décoction
de bois rouge et d'un soupçon - de carmin. Enfin, pour compléter la ressem-
blance, on dessine à la main les veines foncées, et la poudre de mica ainsi que
la pyrite servent à imiter les cristaux brillants si fortement réfringents ^ qui se
trouvent dans le marbre naturel.
I. doré. — 2. un peu de. — 3. brillants.
L'héritage.
Celle pièce charmante est dans le goût de Théocrite. Nos lecteurs y respireront,
comme disaient les Anciens, le délicat parfum de la grâce hellénique.
Le vieux pâtre en mourant m'a laissé tous ses biens :
ses brebis aux toisons soyeuses ; ses deux chiens ;
son jardin égayé d'un murmure d'abeilles ;
son logis ; son verger plein de pommes vermeilles,
dont un dieu peint en rouge écarte les oiseaux ;
quelques prés d'herbe maigre où croissent des roseaux;
quelques talus rocheux où les chèvres vont paître;
et, pour fêter les dieux, une coupe de hêtre,
où je mélange l'eau des sources et le vin.
Mais il m'a donné mieux, sa (lu te au chant divin.
Quand, le soir, revenant des forêts, je ramène
mon troupeau fatigué vers mon petit domaine,
quand sous les monts qu'eflleure encore le soleil,
la campagne brumeuse est pleine de sommeil,
je fais souvent, parmi les ombres agrandies \
tlotter autour de moi de vagues mélodies.
Le chevrier qui vient derrière moi rêvant,
entend ma chanson grêle éparse dans le vent,
Souvenir de Virgile : majoresqiie cadunt altis de montitus iimbrœ.
38
PARTIE FRANÇAISE [222j
pareille à la rumeur des fontaines, mêlée
à tous les bruits confus et doux de la vallée
il songe au berger mort, et croit ouïr parfois
son âme harmonieuse et triste dans les bois.
Henri Potez.
Le pauvre et le riche'
III
Le riche, ayant à présent ce qu'il voulait, reprit le chemin de sa maison,
tout en réfléchissant à ce qu'il souhaiterait. Tandis qu'il méditait ainsi,
laissant flotter les rênes, le cheval se mil à cabrioler, si bien qu'il était
toujours dérangé dans ses idées et ne pouvait les rassembler. Il se mit en
colère contre sa bête et, dans un accès d'impatience, s'écria : « Puisses-tu
te rompre le cou ! » Dès qu'il eut prononcé ces mots, il tomba sur le sol;
le cheval était inerte et mort; le premier souhait se trouvait rempli. Comme
notre homme était avare, il ne voulut pas abandonner la selle, il l'enleva.
se l'ajusta sur le dos et dut rentrer à pied. Il se consolait en pensant qu'il
lui restait encore deux vœux.
En marchant ainsi dans le sable, sous le soleil brûlant de midi, il eut
fort chaud et s'attrista, et la selle lui pesait sur le dos et il n'arrivait tou-
jours pas à découvrir ce qu'il lui fallait souhaiter.
«Quand même, pensait-il à part soi, je souhaiterais tous les royaumes et
tous les trésors du monde, j'aurais après cela encore toute sorte de désirs,
celui-ci, celui-là, je le sais d'avance ; je vais donc formuler mon vœu de
telle façon qu'il ne me reste absolument plus rien à souhaiter. » Mais
quand il se figurait que cette fois il avait trouvé quel([ue chose, il lui sem-
blait ensuite que c'était trop peu, trop mesquin. Là-dessus, il vint à penser
combien sa femme était tranquille ; elle était à la maison, dans une chambre
fraîche et mangeait de bon appétit. Cela le jeta dans un beau dépit et sans
s'en rendre compte il murmura : « Je voudraisqu'elle fût assise chez nous
sur cette selle et qu'elle n'en pût descendre, plutôt que d'avoir à la traîner
sur mon dos. » Et dès que ce dernier mot eut échappé de ses lèvres, la selle
avait disparu de son dos et il vit que son deuxième souhait était réalisé.
C'est pour le coup qu'il eut chaud ; il se mit à courir pour rentrer chez
lui, s'isoler dans un coin et réfléchir afin que le dernier souhait fût vrai-
ment grand. Mais en arrivant et en ouvrant la porte de la chambre, il
trouve sa femme assise sur la selle au milieu de la pièce, et incapable d'en
descendre, et elle gémissait et criait. 11 lui dit : « Tranquillise-toi, je vais
te souhaiter toutes les richesses du monde, mais reste assise ! » Elle
de répliquer : « A quoi me servent toutes les richesses du monde si je reste
sur la selle':* Si ton souhait m'y a placée, c'est à toi de me tirer d'aifaire. >■
Bon gré mal gré, il dut formuler le troisième vœu : à savoir que sa femme
fût délivrée de cette selle et en pût descendre, et aussitôt le souhait
s'accomplit.
A'oir les qtialrc aiilics parties.
[223 1 PAKTIE FRANÇAISE 39
Ainsi il ne récolta que du dépit, de la peine, et un cheval perdu, tandis
que les pauvres vécurent heureux, tranquilles et sages jusqu'à leur mort.
(Fin.) Frères Grimm.
[Traduit de l allemand.)
Contes de la Vieille France.
Les légendes et fabliaux du moyen âge sont un inépuisable trésor de choses
amusantes, jolies ou même touchantes. Nous reproduirons quelques-uns de
ces vieux récits, ti'ès librement, sous une forme rajeunie, mais en respectant
l'essentiel du fond ancien. Nous espérons qu'ainsi présentées, ces fleurs de
jadis ne déplairont pas.
Le seigneur à la cruche.
Dans un château vivait autrefois un méchant seigneur. Le jour il tuait
des cerfs dans les bois. Le soir, il ne s'endormait qu'après avoir contemplé
dans ses cachots les prisonniers dont les prières et les gémissements le
réjouissaient. Au cours de ses chevauchées, s'il rencontrait une hète, c'était
pour la battre, un passant, c'était pour le maltraiter, et, de si loin qu'on
l'apercevait, les hommes se sauvaient et les mères rentraient apeurées dans
leurs maisons, en serrant contre elles leurs petits enfants.
Un jour d'automne, gris et humide, entre les arbres à demi dépouillés
qui bordaient la route gluante, il revenait seul, sur un haut cheval noir.
Il arriva près d'une source ; là, une très vieille femme essayait de poser
sur son épaule une cruche remplie. Elle était pauvre, cardes haillons la
couvraient ; débile, car ses mains maigres tremblaient en haussant le vase
lourd ; si pitoyable que, sur sa face tlétrie, les traits semblaient creusés
non par l'âge mais par la misère et la douleur. Elle leva vers lui ses yeux
presqus éteints et, d'une voix chevrotante, l'implora :
« Seigneur, ayez pitié. Aidez-moi. »
Lui, ricana et, comme elle se trouvait à sa portée, il lui détacha un tel
coup de son pied botté, en pleine poitrine, que la pauvresse culbuta avec
un cri déchirant et qu'elle se renversa sur la cruche dont l'eau répandue
se confondit avec son sang.
Mais, ô prodige ! soudain la cruche se suspendit au cou du mauvais et
une voix terrible retentit à son oreille :
« Maudit ! Tu ne t'arrêteras que le jour où la cruche sera pleine. »
Là-dessus un souille furieux courba les arbres et fit au loin gronder la
forêt ; des corbeaux croassèrent ; le cheval hennit, puis, crinière au vent,
s'élança, éperdu, vers l'horizon... Et ce fut désormais une galopade sans
but, sans fin, sans trêve. Et il eut beau faire, ni les orages c|ui le trempèrent,
ni les lacs elles fleuves qu'il côtoya ne remplirent la cruche éternellement
sèche. Il s'abandonna au destin. Des semaines, des années s'écoulèrent
ainsi.
Sous les yeux du cavalier se succédèrent plaines, montagnes et vallées ;
sur sa tête le soleil brûla, la pluie ruissela, la neige s'abattit. Devant lui
40 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [224]
se déroula le spectacle du vaste monde. Il vit peiner les pauvres gens qui
ensemencent les sillons, qui filent la laine, qui coupent le bois, qui
manient la rame, la truelle ou le marteau. Il vit cavalcader des gentilshom-
mes, étincelants d'acier, parmi les oriflammes multicolores. II vitles noces
où l'on chante et les enterrements où l'on pleure. Il passa près des églises
d'où sortait la musique des orgues, près des villes bourdonnantes comme
des ruches, près des villages paisibles où montait la fumée des chaumières,
près des vergers fleuris au printemps et dorés en automne. Il passa sur de
hautes falaises, d'où il apercevait les navires sur la mer resplendissante,
et au pied des montagnes couronnées d'un diadème de glace. Et peu à peu
l'àme ténébreuse de cette brute conçut la variété splendide des choses.
Mais il connut encore que la férocité humaine a gâté l'œuvre du Créateur.
Il vit des armées détruire les moissons et rougir de sang les rivières vertes.
II vit démolir les églises dentelées, dévaster les villes laborieuses et incen-
dier les humbles bourgades. Il vit le fort écraser le faible et le faible lever
vers le ciel des yeux noyés de larmes inutiles. Près de lui, des vieillards
appelèrent au secours, des femmes échevelées tendirent les bras, des enfants
crièrent dans l'épouvante... Et comme son cœur dur s'attendrissait avec
le temps, il aurait voulu tirer l'épée, protéger les misérables, se ruer sur
leurs bourreaux. Mais le noir coursier galopait toujours.
Un jour il arriva sur une route bordée d'arbres à demi dépouillés par
l'approche de l'hiver. Près d'une source, une vieille femme essayait de
poser sur son épaule une cruche trop lourde. Elle était vêtue de haillons,
débile, pitoyable, et quand passa le cheval noir, elle implora le cavalier de
ses yeux éteints et de sa voix chevrotante :
« Seigneur, ayez pitié. Aidez-moi. »
Lui l'eût aidée volontiers : elle était si triste, si vieille, si cassée ! De toutes
ses forces, il serra les genoux ; de toutes ses forces, il tira sur la bride de
sa monture pour en ralentir le galop enragé ; il supplia la bête... Tout
fut vain ; le malheureux, impuissant, désespéré, courba le front ; de ses
yeux une larme tomba, la première qu'il eût versée de sa vie, et roula dans
la cruche, ballottante et vide à son cou.
Alors le cheval s'arrêta: la cruche était pleine.
Max JASiNSki.
Gaîtés du cimetière.
Dans un des grands cimetières de New-York, on peut Aoirune tombe
où — parmi les fleurs soigneusement renouvelées — se lit l'inscription
suivante :
« En ce lieu gît John Smith ; il tourna contre lui-même un revolver,
système « Coït », qui l'abattit sur place. La meilleure arme pour les
désespérés. »
Sur un autre monument, fastueux et criard, un négociant a fait graver
CCS mots :
« Sous cette pierre reposera un jour James Bolton ; pour le moment,
il dirige brillamment, dans la quinzième avenue, numéro 67, la maison
bien connue de cuirs et crépins. »
Les Cinq Langues
N» 6. 20 Décembre 1907. 8« Année.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
La dinde de Noël.
Plus d'une semaine avant le 26 décembre, les petits Boulonnais, dont
j'étais, sentaient l'approche de Noël. Les charcutiers décoraient leurs pâtés
de guirlandes vertes, piquaient sur les spirales de boudins une fleur en
papier et installaient des majestueux châteaux en saindoux. Les bazars
exposaient sous le gaz rutilant des polichinelles rouges et jaunes, des sol-
dats en boîtes, des chemins de fer vernis. Les confiseurs étalaient des cho-
colats en pyramides, des bonbons dans des coupes de cristal, des barres
de nougat laiteux, des Bonhomme Noël barbus et couverts de givre. Et à
quatre heures, en revenant du Collège, nous allions coller nos figures ravies
aux vitres derrière lesquelles rayonnaient tant de belles choses.
Mais, si ce spectacle était le même qu'ailleurs, la veille môms de Noël
offrait à Boulogne-sur-Mer des plaisirs particuliers. Les pâtissiers garnis-
saient leurs devantures de plum-puddings anglais. Des marchandes à lu
voix aigre criaient dans les rues des craquelins, sorte de gâteau feuilleté,
friand et parfumé de beurre, que Ton trempait tout chaud dans le café au
lait. Puis, dès que la nuit était tombée, une multitude de gamins couraient
la ville, entraient dans les magasins, sonnaient aux portes, avec, en mains,
une chandelle allumée dans une carotte creuse. Ils chantaient une très
vieille chanson en patois, recevaient un sou et s'en allaient. Et je me
chante encore à moi-même ces antiques paroles, naïves, narquoises, et je
revois dans les rues sombres passer, se croiser, disparaître et reparaître
ces petites lumières rouges, pareilles à des étoiles.
Mais le principal, à Noël, c'était la dinde. Au marché précédent, il n'était
pas une paysanne assise en bonnet blanc derrière ses paniers qui n'appor-
tât une ou plusieurs de ces succulentes volailles. Au retour de ce marché,
ce n'étaient que dindes, dindons et dindonneaux dans les bras des bonnes
ou des mamans. Et, à la maison, les petits contemplaient d'un œil gour-
mand leur futur régal. D'avance on dégustait les filets de chair brune
devinés sous les plumes noires et les cuisses dodues dont on mesurait
déjà la réjouissante rondeur.
Le jour de Noël, à midi, après la soupe, quelle félicité, quand on sor-
tait du lour la bêle fumante et dorée ! On la posait avec précaution sur la
table et son parfum venait caresser les narines ouvertes. La mère
attendait quelques compliments inévitables sur la beauté du roli et sur le
choix judicieux de l'animal. Puis, après quelques moments d'une attente
silencieuse et solennelle, pendant que le père souriait, pendant que les
enfants, en extase, riaient jusqu'aux oreilles, la mère, souriante elle aussi,
[.S4] FKANÇ. 6
42 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [266]
plantait le couteau dans le ventre de la dinde et en faisait sortir la purée
de marrons dont il était bourré.
La bonne dinde ! C'est ce jour-là surtout qu'on l'appréciait. Dans bien
des ménages, d'ailleurs, on n'en mangeait que ce jour-là. Mais on se réga-
lait alors pour l'année entière. On commençait par les marrons, qui n'a-
vaient pas la saveur des marrons ordinaires, mais une autre, plus délicate
et plus rare. Ensuite on abordait la dinde elle-même; régulièrement on
la trouvait plus tendre et plus savoureuse que la dernière fois.
Et tout contribuait à la rendre meilleure : le feu qui ronflait, la bière
légère et blonde, la sensation d'être en un jour de fête, sans préoccupation
de la tâche quotidienne. Dehors, il gelait, et on entendait le pas sonore
des passants; ou bien il neigeait, et, les bruits extérieurs n'arrivant plus,
on aurait cru qu'une ouate enveloppait le logis ; ou bien il ventait, et la
grosse voix de la bourrasque grondait dans la cheminée.
Mange-t-on encore la dinde de Noël à Boulogne-sur-Mer ? Y crie-t-on
encore des craquelins pour le Réveillon ') Y voit-on encore courir les étoiles
rouges des carottes lumineuses ? Les traditions se perdent. Mais, à mesure
que nous vieillissons, celles que nous avons connues dans notre enfance
nous semblent plus douces. Elles sont douces comme le souvenir de ceux
que nous avons aimés, qui nous ont aimés et qui ne sont plus ; douces
comme le foyer paternel où nous nous sommes éveillés à la vie; douces
comme la ville natale dont la terre maternelle abrite nos morts.
Max Jasinski.
Nous avons le plaisir de publier une poésie d'un rythme charmant, un badinage gra-
cieux, finement spirituel, léger comme la mousse du Champagne, et où nos lecteurs
reconnaîtront lepuresprit parisien. C'est l'œuxre en effet d'undes plus délicats poètes de
Paris, M. Georges DocQuois, et elle a été faite spécialement pour Les Cinq Langues.
Le Monstre.
Le long de la côte, oU ! si doucement !
Le chemin s'en va, le ctiemin serpente.
C'est pour le flâneur un enchantement
Qu'un si beau chemin, sans pierres, sans pente !
On y marclierait, oui, jusciu'k demain.
Tant si doucement il file ' sans trêve !
Ah I mes bons amis, sur un tel chemin
Qu'on est donc lieureux de mener son rêve !
Et tout en flânant, voyez, quel régal!
Qu'on regarde à droite ou bien sur la gauche,
Le tableau toujours reste sans égal.
Et pour l'œil ravi c'est une débauche ^.
Car, sachez que, d'un ou d'antre côté.
Le décor ferait pâmer un barbare ;
Et de toutes parts, c'est de la beauté.
Et, si vous voulez, de la joie en barre^.
A droite, la mer aux mille couleurs
Sur le sable blond, câline, défei'le ;
I. il continue. — 2. un immense plaisir. — 3. delà pure et grande joie, par analogie de
l'or en barre, c'est à-dire de l'or pur, en lingots.
[267] PAUTIE FRANÇAISE 43
A gauche, des prés, des arbres, des fleurs,
Et sur notre tête un grand ciel de perle ''.
Et c'est si splendide, et c'est si charmant.
Qu'on voudrait rester là toute la vie,
Et qu'il ne vous nait en un tel moment
Ni méchant projet, ni mauvaise envie.
Ah I qui donc pourrait passer sans émoi
Dans cette nature où mon cœur s'éveille ?
Qui donc ne serait touché comme moi
Devant cette pure et noble merveille ?. . .
Mais quel est cet êtie à me faire peur '^
Qui des monstres vient augmenter la liste
Et qui nous arrive à toute vapeur ?
C'est (maudit soit-il !) l'automobiliste.
Le voici, couvert d'un masque hideux,
Le buste bardé ^ d'une peau de bête !
Et, si j'ose dire, il pique des deux^
Tout droit devant lui, comme une tempélc.
Quoi ! ne va-t-il pas s'arrêter un peu ?
Cet homme qui cache ainsi son visage
A pourtant une àme ; est-ce qu'il se peut
Qu'il n'admire pas ce cher paysage ?
Mais oui, ce brutal méprise, en effet.
Tout ce qu'il devrait adorer. J'en pleure !
Et dans ce soleil admirable, il fait
Sur ce beau chemin du cent vingt ^ à l'heure !
Georges Docquois.
h. couleur de perle. — 5. ejjrmjanl. — G. entouré. — 7. il court vite. — 8. cent vingt
kilomètres.
Les animaux à fourrure.
Dans une intéressante conférence. M. Trouessart, professeur au Muséum
d'histoire naturelle, a jeté un coup d'œil d'ensemble sur les animaux àfourrure
et ceci nous engage d'autant plus à en parler que l'époque de s'emmitoufler de
peaux de bêtes est arrivée.
Les fourrures que l'on trouve dans le commerce se divisent en deux catégo-
ries : 1° celles dont le pelage reste tel que le portait l'animal ; 2" celles dont on
supprime une partie pour les rendre plus légères, plus moelleuses et plus bel-
les. Pour comprendre cette distinction, il faut savoir que la plupart des ani-
maux à fourrure ont deux sortes de poils : la bourre et les jarres. La bourre
est ce fin duvet que l'on aperçoit en écartant les poils plus longs, plus lisses et
plus durs, souvent aplatis et dilatés en fer de lance, que l'on nomme jarres.
Lorsqu'on voit une Loutre sortir de l'eau, on remarque l'aspect luisant de son
pelage : on dirait que l'animal porte un vêtement de caoutchouc ; cet aspect est
dû aux jarres qui sont couchées et imbriquées comme les ardoises d'un toit et
empêchent la bourre sous-jacente de se mouiller. Pour avoir la bourre fine et
veloutée que l'on désigne dans le commerce sous le nom de loutre, il faut
donc enlever les jarres en ne gardant que la bourre.
44 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [268J
D'autres animaux ont les jarres assez fines et assez belles pour qu'il y ait lieu
■de les conserver : tels sont la Martre, la Zibeline, l'Hermine, le Petit-Gris. Ces
fourrures sont toujours plus faciles à reconnaître.
Pour éjarrer les peaux, c'est-à-dire enlever les jarres, on se sert d'ordinaire
d'un long couteau dont le tranchant est émoussc à dessein, pour qu'il n'agisse
pas comine un rasoir. On saisit entre les doigts une touffe de jarres, et, en la
frappant à rebrousse-poil avec le couteau, on l'arrache d'un seul coup. Ceci est
le procédé primitif : mais les fabricants possèdent actuellement des machines
à éjarrer qui fonctionnent avec plus de rapidité et de précision. Certaines peaux
sont simplement rasées à la tondeuse pour leur donner un aspect plus égal et
plus velouté, ou une teinte différente de la teinte normale.
Le genre qui fournit le plus d'animaux à fourrure est le genre Jlartre. La
Martre de notre pays est très estimée pour son pelage d'un brun soyeux, plus
■clair en dessous, et dont la valeur varie de i8 à 35 francs. Il ne faut pas la
confondre avec la Fouine, dont on vend souvent la peau sous le nom de Martre,
mais qui en diffère par sa gorge blanche. Les Martres du nord sont beaucoup plus
belles. La plus recherchée est la Zibeline, qui habite les confins du cercle arcti-
que en Europe et surtout en Sibérie. Sa fourrure d'hiver, d'un beau brun doré,
relevé sur le dos par une ligne d'un brun foncé, qui se fond insensiblement avec
la teinte des flancs, est plus brillante et plus touffue que celle de la Martre vul-
gaire. Sa valeur est encore augmentée par suite des fatigues, des souffrances et
des dangers auxquels s'exposent les chasseurs qui vont à la conquête de celte
nouvelle toison d'or.
Les Putois sonttrès voisins des Martres et, malgré l'odeur fétide qui leur a valu
leur nom, on trouve moyen d'utiliser leur fourrure. Le Putois d'Amérique est
particulièrement estimé : c'est sa peau que les fourreurs vendent sous le nom
de Skiink. On confond à tort avec celui-ci la Moufette, qui ne ressemble au
Putois que par l'odeur plus liorrible encore qu'elle exhale, odeur produite par
une glande placée sous la queue. C'est là un organe de défense des plus effi-
caces, car l'animal a la faculté de projeter le liquide sécrété par cette glande à
plusieurs mètres de distance, et le chasseur novice qui s'en approche sans
méfiance en gardera le souvenir toute sa vie. L'odeur est telle que l'homme le
plus robuste, en recevant cette décharge, est près de s'évanouir. 11 verra toutes
les portes se fermer devant lui comme s'il apportait la peste, car ses vêtements
çt même ses chaussures garderont cette odeur, malgré tous les lavages, pen-
dant des années entières. Il n'a d'autre ressource que de les brûler. On arrive,
cependant, par des procédés chimiques, à débarrasser les peaux de Moufette de
tonte odeur.
Le Vison n'est qu'un Putois aquatique ; mais sa fourrure, d'un brun foncé
uniforme, est beaucoup plus estimée que celle du Putois vulgaire. La Loutre est
une espèce encore plus aquatique que le Vison ; sa fourrure n'est utilisée qu'après
avoir été éjarrée. L'Hermine est une des plus petites de la famille des Martres,
mais une des plus précieuses, en raison de sa fourrure qui devient, en hiver,
d'un blanc parfait, sauf le bout de la queue qui reste noir. Parmi les autres
Carnivores, il faut citer le Renard bleu, qui sert à fabriquer des ftoasetdes étoles
atteignant un prix très élevé. Cette espèce, qui habite les régions arctiques du
globe, plus au nord encore que la Zibeline, varie beaucoup de pelage ; mais il
faut distinguer les changements dus aux saisons de ceux cjui caractérisent les
variétés locales. En réalité, ce Renard n'est bleu, ou plutôt d'un brun ardoisé,
qu'en été ; en hiver il devient coinplètement blanc. Une autre espèce du Canada,
le Renard argenté, d'un brun foncé, presque noir, est encore plus recherchée,
sui'tout lorsque les poils noirs sont mêlés de poils blancs qui donnent à la four-
rure un aspect givré très agréable à l'œil. Ces peaux représentent la livrée de
passage de l'automne à l'hiver, ou, de préférence, de l'hiver au printemps, et
c'est ce qui explique la grande variété de teintes que présentent ces fourrures
quand on les passe en revue à l'étalage des fourreurs.
Parmi les Chats, les Lynx, qvii habitent les régions arctiques, sont les seuls
[269] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 43
dont le pelage s'allonge en hiver pour former une fourrure plus longue et plus
<:haude, et qui a l'avantage d'être peu tachetée.
L'ordre des Rongeurs est important au point de vue des fourrures. En tête
se place l'Ecureuil et surtout cette variété, propre aux régions du Nord, que
l'on appelle Petit-Gris. Cette teinte d'un gris tiqueté, formée par les anneaux
alternativement plus clairs et plus foncés de chaque poil, est le pelage d'hiver
de l'Ecureuil de la Scandinavie et de la Laponie. Le Castor qui servait, surtout
autrefois, à faire des chapeaux, donne une belle fourrure d'un gris plus ou
moins clair, formé par la bourre, lorsque la peau a été éjarrée comme celle de
la Loutre. On s'en sert surtout pour doubler les pelisses. Les Chinchillas sont
originaires des régions montagneuses de l'Amérique méridionale. Leur pelage
très lin, très moelleux et très chaud, n'a besoin d'aucune préparation. On
recherche surtout actuellement les peaux de teintes foncées, celles dun gris de
perle se fanant très vite, et étant, en outre, tombées en discrédit par suite de
la facilité avec laquelle on les imite au moyen d'étoffes à longs poils.
Mais la fourrure la plus employée est celle du.... Lapin, avec laquelle on
imite celles de toutes sortes d'animaux, au point que les zoologistes eux-mêmes
ne savent plus s'y reconnaître.
Henri Coupix.
Philœ.
Dans la haute Egypte, au sud d'Âssouati, se trouve, au milieu du Ml, une
île célèbre où se dressaientd'admirables ruines. Artistes et archéologues venaient
jadis en foule contempler ce chef-d'œuvre du vieil art égyptien. Or les Anglais
ont construit un barrage. Grâce à ce barrage, les terres environnantes sont
devenues merveilleusement fécondes. Mais l'eau du fleuve a monté, sans plus
jamais redescendre ; les ruines, peu à peu envahies, sont aujourd'hui presque
noyées et disparaîtront bientôt pour toujours.
M. Pierre Loti a visité récemment ces lieux. Dans un bel article paru au
Figaro, il a décrit l'aspect désolé du glorieux monument, où l'on pénètre main-
tenant en barque; il l'a décritavec cette puissance descriptive qui lui est habi-
tuelle, et, de plus, avec une émotion profonde dont nos lecteurs auront une
idée par l'extrait suivant :
Nous approchons de ce qui fut l'île sainte. Par places, des palmiers,
dont la longue tige est aujourd'hui sous l'eau et qui vontmourh-, montrent
encore leur tête, leurs plumets mouillés, donnant des aspects d'inonda-
tion, presque de cataclysme.
Avant d'aborder au sanctuaire d'Isis, nous touchons à ce kiosque de
Philœ, reproduit par les images de tous les temps, célèbre à l'égal du
Sphinx ou des Pyramides. Il s'élevait jadis sur un piédestal de hauts ro-
chers, et les dattiers balançaient alentour leurs bouquets de palmes
aériennes ' . Aujourd'hui, il n'a plus de base, ses colonnes surgissent iso-
lément de cette sorte de lac suspendu et on ledirait construit dans l'eau, à
l'intention de quelque royale naumachie ^. Nous y entrons avec notre
barque, — et c'est un port bien étrange, dans sa somptuosité antique;
un port d'une mélancolie sans nom, surtout à cette heure jaune du cré-
puscule extrême, et sous ces rafales glacées que nous envoient sans merci
les proches déserts. Mais combien il est adorable ainsi, le kiosque de
Philœ, dans ce désarroi précurseur de son éboulement ! Ses colonnes,
comme posées sur de l'instable \ en deviennent plus sveltes, semblent
I. hautes et légères — 2. Combat naval dont les Romains faisaient un spectacle. —
3. sur un terrain mobile-
46
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
[270]
porter plus haut encore leurs chapiteaux en feuillage de pierre : tout à
fait kiosque de rêve * maintenant, et que l'on sent si près de disparaître
à jamais sous ces eaux qui ne haïssent plus...
Voici que de nouveau, pour quelques secondes encore, il fait presque
jour, et que des teintes de cuivre moins pales se rallument au ciel. Après
j
■^ ;Attîr"^'^f'
Phihe.
le coucher des soleils d'Egypte, quand on croit que c'est fini, souvent elle
vient ainsi vous surprendre, cette recoloration' furtive de l'air, avant que
tout s'éteigne. Près de nous, sur ces fûts élancés qui nous environnent, les
nuances rougeàtres font semblant de revenir, et de même là-bas, sur ce
temple de la déesse, dressé en écueiP au miheu de la mer que le vent cou-
vre d'écume.
Au sortir du kiosque, notre barque, sur cette eau profonde et envahis-
sante, parmi les palmiers noyés, fait un détour, afin de nous conduire au
temple par le chemin que prenaient à pied les pèlerins du vieux tenqis,
par la voie naguère encore magnifique, bordée de colonnades et de statues.
Entièrement engloutie aujourd'hui, cette voie-là, que l'on ne reverra
Zi. comme on en n've. — 5. seconde coloralion. Néologisme. — 6. comme un écueil.
[271] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 47
jamais plus ; entre ses doubles rangées de colonnes, l'eau nous porte à la
hauteur des chapiteaux, qui émergent seuls et que nous pourrions toucher
de la main. — Promenade de la fin des temps, semble-t-il, dans cette sorte
de Venise déserte, qui va s'écrouler, plonger et être oubliée.
Le temple. Nous sommes arrivés. Au-dessus de nos têtes se dressent les
énormes pylônes, ornés de personnages en bas-relief: une Isis géante, qui
tend le bras comme pour nous faire signe, et d'autres divinités au geste de
mystère''. La porte, qui s'ouvre dans l'épaisseur de ces murailles, est basse,
d'ailleurs à demi noyée, et donne sur des profondeurs déjà très en pénom-
bre^ Nous entrons à l'aviron dans le sanctuaire.
Halte et silence; il fait sombre, il fait froid ; les avirons ne remuant
plus, on n'entend que la plainte du vent et le clapotis de l'eau sur les colon-
nes, sur les bas-reliefs, — et puis tout à coup le bruit d'une chute pesante,
suivie de remous sans fin : quelque grande pierre sculptée qui vient de plon-
ger à son heure, pour rejoindre dans le chaos noir d'en dessous celles déjà
disparues, et les temples déjà engloutis, et les vieilles églises coptes, et la
ville des premiers siècles chrétiens, — tout ce qui fut jadis l'île de Philœ,
la « perle de l'Egypte », l'une des merveilles du monde.
7. au geste mystérieux. — 8. presque obscures.
Sarah Bernhardt et Edison*.
La voiture fit encore quelques tours de roue et nous fûmes devant la
maison de l'illustre Thomas Edison.
Un groupe de personnes nous attendait sous la vérandah. Quatre hom-
mes, deux dames et une jeune fille.
Le cœur me battait : Lequel de ces hommes était Edison? Je n'avais pas
vu sa photographie, et j'admirais profondément ce génial cerveau.
Je sautai de voiture. L'éblouissante lumière électrique nous donnait l'il-
lusion du plein jour. Je pris le bouquet que me présentait M""" Edison et,
tout en la remerciant, j'essayai de découvrir lequel de ces hommes étaitle
grand homme. Tous quatre s'étaient avancés vers moi. mais l'un d'eux
rougit légèrement, et son œil bleu exprima un si angoissant ennui que je
devinai Edison.
Je devins confuse et gênée moi-même, car je sentais bien que je déran-
geais cet homme. Il ne voyait dans ma visite que la banale curiosité d'une
étrangère ivre de réclame. Il entrevoyait déjà les interviews du lendemain,
les stupidités qu'on lui ferait dire. Il souffrait à l'avance des questions
ignorantes que j'allais lui poser, des explications que la politesse le force-
rait à me donner; et pendant une minute Thomas Edison me prit en aver-
sion.
Son merveilleux œil bleu, plus lumineux que ses lampes incandescen-
tes, me permettait de lire toutes ses pensées. Alors, je compris qu'il fal-
lait le conquérir ; et mon esprit combatif fit appel à toutes mes forces
séductrices pour vaincre ce délicieux et timide savant.
Voir les quatre autres parties.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE [272]
Je fis tant et si bien qu'une demi-heure après, nous étions les meilleurs
amis du monde. Je le suivais rapidement, grimpant des escaliers étroits
et droits comme des échelles, traversant des ponts suspendus au-dessus
de véritables fournaises; il m'expliquait tout.
Je comprenais tout ; et je l'admirais de plus en plus, car il était simple
et charmant, ce roi de la lumière.
Pendant que nous étions penchés tous deux sur le léger pont tremblant
sur l'abîme effroyable dans lequel tournaient, viraient, criaient d'immenses
roues enserrées dans de larges lanières, il donnait d'une voix claire des com-
mandements divers, et la lumière éclatait de toutes parts, tantôt en jets
crépitants et verdàtres, tantôt en éclairs rapides, parfois en traînées serpen-
tines, telles des ruisseaux de feu.
Je regardais cet homme de taille moyenne, à la tête un peu forte, au
profd plein de noblesse, et je pensais à Napoléon I*"". H y a certainement
dans ces deux hommes une grande ressemblance physique, et je suis cer-
taine qu'il est une case de leur cerveau qu'on trouverait identique. Bien
certainement,je ne compare pas leurs génies: l'un fut "destructeur", l'autre
'•'créateur". Mais, tout en exécrant les batailles, j'adore les victoires ; et,
malgré ses erreurs, j'ai élevé dans mon cœur un autel à ce dieude la mort,
à ce dieu de la gloire, à Napoléon.
Donc, je regardais Edison, lesprit rêveur, rapprochant son image de
celle du grand mort.
Le bruit étourdissant des machines, l'aveuglante rapidité des chan-
gements de lumière, tout cela me tournait la tête ; et, oubliant où j'étais,
je m'appuyais sur le léger rempart qui me séparait de l'abîme avec une
telle inconscience du danger, qu'avant même que je fusse revenue de ma
surprise, Edison m'avait entraînée dans la pièce voisine et installée dans
unfauteuil, sans quej'en eusse le moindre souvenir.Il me raconta peu après
que j'avais été prise de vertige.
Sarah Berniiardt.
Histoire de chasse.
Un disciple de Saint-Hubert' nous raconte sa petite aventure.
« Je passais, dit-il, près d'une mare couverte de canards. Un paysan,
les jambes écartées, les bras ballants, contemplait la mare.
0 Emporté par ma passion :
— Hé ! l'ami, lui criai-je, cent sous pour un de ces canards !
— Volontiers, mon bon monsieur !
i^ J'arme mon fusil, je tire sur le canard ; puis comme cela m'amusait :
— Cent sous pour un autre !
<^ L'homme m'ùta son bonnet et s'inclina en signe d'assentiment :
— Encore cent sous pour un troisième !
(( Je lui donnai quinze francs et, prenant mes canards, j'allais partir,
quand le paysan, me faisant un petit signe amical :
— Hé ! monsieur, ne vous gênez pas, dit-il, ils ne sont pas à moi !.... »
I. Un chasseur.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 7.
5 Janvier 1908.
8e Année.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
Oscar II, roi de Suéde.
Le roi Oscar 11, qui vient de mourir, était bien connu en France. On y
accueillait avec sympathie ce grand vieillard à barbe grise, aux yeux bleu-clair,
et qui portait fièrement à la boutonnière de sa redingote deux décorations
françaises : la ro-
^ s^ sette rouge de la
Légion d'honneur
et le ruban tricolore
de la médaille de
sauvetage qu'il avait
gagnée en arrêtant,
au péril de sa vie,
deux chevaux em-
portés.
C'était un homme
d'esprit, dépourvu
de toute morgue, et
un lettré de réelle
valeur. Voici, à son
sujet, quelques dé-
tails de M. Jean
Mélia, publiés dans
un article du G il
Blas.
Lenaturaliste Gas-
ton Bonnier était, il
y a quelques an-
nées,en Scandinavie.
11 botanisail dans les
environs de Stock-
holm. 11 aperçut
non loin de lui un
personnage un peu âgé qui se livrait à la même occupation. Une semblable
pensée rapproche. M. Gaston Bonnier et l'inconnu échangèrent des propos sur
la flore du pays, puis ils herborisèrent ensemble. On eût dit deux amis. Une
heure après, M. Gaston Bonnier déclara avoir faim. « Allons manger une
omelette. J'ai découvert hier une petite auberge où l'on mange très bien. »
L'inconnu répliqua : « .fe suis du pays, ma maison n'est pas éloignée et vous
me ferez, j'espère, le plaisir. . . »
Le savant botanisic français accepta . Ils arrivèrent à un pavillon de chasse
appartenant au roi Oscar, où celui-ci traita galamment et confortablement
le botaniste, « son cher confrère ».
Oscar II.
[^0]
FRANC. 7
50 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [314]
Le roi était fort soigneux de sa personne ; il aimait les parfums, il ne fumait
jamais... Il était ti'ès spirituel. Comme, à Drottningholm, il se trouvait
entouré d'une dizaine de Parisiens, quelqu'un insinua : « Votre Majesté n'est-
elle pas effarée de cet envahissement de républicains ?.. . » Oscar II se récria
en souriant : « Mais comment donc ! J'aime beaucoup la République. . .
ailleurs. Ici, que voulez-vous ? je suis royaliste, veuillez m'en excuser. »
Oscar II fut un poète ami de la foule. Dans sa sollicitude, il se plaisait à per-
mettre à ses sujets pour leur éviter de faire un long détour, de traverser la
cour de son palais. Le bruit des passants ne troublait pas ses méditations; il
le rattachait au contraire aux choses de la terre et Oscar II célébrait alors les
objets familiers. Il consacra un hymne de reconnaissance à sa table de travail
pour les plaisirs qu'elle lui procurait quand il s'accoudait sur elle pour compo-
ser des vei'S. INIais ensuite des idées plus hautes hantaient son esprit. Il écrivait :
Lève-toi pour cljanler, lève-toi pour lutter,
Prends ton épée et la lyre !
Il célébrait aussi les mers du Nord dont la voix s'engouffre lugubrement dans
le creux des rochers, leur écume si blanche qu'elle semble des linceuls pour
tous les marins en péril. Au surplus, voici la traduction de quelques-uns de ses
vers :
Mais maintenant la mer est sa suprême amante.
Les larmes du foyer n'existent pas pour lui ;
Et son désir bondit vers la vague écnmante
Qui le reprend bientôt, si loin d'elle il a fui.
Quel charme étrange, ô mer, nous retient à ton seuil,
Quand la vague en fureur déferle sur l'écueil ?
Aussi je veux chanter les flots dominateurs
Qui, nuit et jour, depuis l'éternité, frissonnent
Autour de nos rochers, inlassables guetteurs
Du chemin de la gloire et dont les clameurs sonnent
Comme des hymnes fous de triomphe et d'orgueil.
Quand la vague en fureur se brise sur l'écueil !
Béranger.
Voilà cinquante ans qu'est mort Béranger. Ce que fut l'homme, on le sai! :
atTeclueux, honnête, mais passionné, il eut des convictions sincères, souffrit
pour elles, resta gai malgré la prison et la pauvreté, dédaigna les honneurs et
l'Académie. Ce que fut sa gloire, on le sait encore : nul poète entre i8i5 et 1857
ne fut plus chéri de la multitude ; nul ne reçut des plus illustres plus d'hom-
mages ; et celte gloire a persisté. On le lit peu sans doute, mais on en parle
toujours.
Feuilletons donc ses œuvres. Au premier abord, quelle désillusion ! On dirait
que Béranger n'est pas contemporain des Romantiques, mais de Parny et de
Voltaire. Du lyrisme splcndide qui transformait la poésie française rien n'a
passé dans ces chansons. Autour de lui, l'imagination s'épanouissait en florai-
sons magnifiques ; le génie resplendissait en rythmes renouvelés ou nouveaux :
la langue et la versification acquéraient un éclat surprenant et une sonorité
inouïe. Lui, faisait de la prose rimée et rimée pauvrement ; il recueillait les
élégances surannées, les clichés' usés, la défroque mythologique, les fades
périphrases, dont tout le monde était dégoûté. Alors que la France frémis.sail
à la voix de Lamartine et de Hugo, lui célébrait le bonheur d'un célibataire
égoïste, le dieu des bonnes gens, Cupidonet Bacchus ! Souvent licencieux quand
1. Expressions ou métaphores banales.
[315J PARTIE FKANÇAISE 5!
il élailjoyeux et emphatique quand il était grave, il allait delà banale rotnance
au couplet grivois. Vraiment est-ce là le plus grand de nos chansonniers ?Et
cette réputation persistante n'est-elle qu'une trop longue duperie !'
Relisons-le. Parfois l'air d'une chanson revient à la mémoire ; on fredonne
en lisant, et, ù surprise ! ces vers qui semblaient plats prennent aussitôt une
allure, une force qu'on ne soupçonnait guère. Nous découvrons alors que celte
poésie n'était pas faite pour être lue, mais pour être chantée ; que ces paroles
sont merveilleusement appropriées à leur usage, et que, par conséquent, l'au-
teur, soit réflexion, soit instinct, a compris les lois fondamentales du genre
choisi par lui : ce qui se chante-doit être simple et clair pour être accessible
à tous ; ce qui est fait pour être chanté ne doit pas avoir en soi son harmonie
complète. Et nous nous expliquons alors pourquoi Lamartine s'irritait de voir le
Lac mis en musique, et pourquoi les chansons de Béranger n'ont qu'avec la musi-
que tout leur charme. Concluons donc que Béranger fut un grand artiste,
puisqu'il saisit et observa parfaitement le caractère et les limites de son art. Et
cela, en effet, n'est pas commun.
Mais considérons la date de chaque chanson : c'est l'épreuve décisive, et
l'œuvre tout entière en parait illuminée. Les circonstances donnent au sujet,
au développement, à tous les vers presque, un relief extraordinaire. Par elles,
nous conipi'enons le retentissement qu'eurent ces choses légères et la popula-
rité du poète. Le roi d'YveloL n'est en apparence qu'une fantaisie pleine de
bonne humeur ; mais regardons sa date : i8i3,etrhistoiredubon roi qui «sur un
âne, pas à pas, parcourait son royaume », qui " pour toute garde n'avait rien
qu'un chien » devient une satire hardie contre Napoléon 1". Le sacre de Charles
le simple est en apparence la description ironique d'une ancienne cérémonie ;
mais cela se chanta en 1824, quand on venait de ressusciter pour Charles \ toute
la pompe du moyen cage, et cela souleva l'hilarité universelle. Il n'est presque
pas une chanson, quel que soit son aspect débonnaire, qui ne pétille ainsi
d'une malice, aujourd'hui évaporée, mais que, irrités ou moqueurs, tous les
contemporains sentirent. Les rêves, les illusions, les hontes et les joies de toute
une époque se retrouvent dans Béranger ; il les exprima dans une forme abor-
dable à tous ; sur les ailes d'une musique facile, les espérances, les mélancolies
et les regrets de la France s'envolèrent sur tout le territoire, émurent, consolè-
rent, enthousiasmèrentles Français. Comme Hugo, le chansonnier aurait pudire:
Tout souflle, tout rayon, ou propice ou fatal,
Fait reluire et viljrer mou àme de cristaL
Mais si l'actualité procure des succès tapageurs, ce tapage s'atténue avec le
temps. Quand un ouvrage ne vaut que par là, forcément il s'oublie : après en
avoir beaucoup parlé, le public en parle moins, puis n'en parle plus. Heureu-
sement pour Béranger, son œuvre a des côtés durables et des qualités de
premier ordre.
Elle a d'abord ce qu'avait de meilleur la littérature du X VHP siècle : la limpi-
dité, la vivacité, l'esprit. Car Béranger avait beaucoup d'esprit : il avait même
plusieurs sortes d'esprit, le plus gros et le plus fin, le bouffon, le mordant et
le délicat. S'il sait faire rougir à l'occasion, il sait faire rire et sourire. Il
réussit moins quand il veut s'élever. Mais quand il parle de lui, de sa vie intime,
de ses misères, il sait encore doucement attendrir. Son ironie devient parfois
émouvante quand il s'émeut lui-même sur les malheurs de la patrie. Et quel-
quefois — trop rarement du reste — quand un sujet lui a convenu, que le
cadre déterminé par lui n'a pas été trop vaste pour son talent, et que la vrai-
semblance exige un ton simple et un langage familier, il a été excellent et
nous a laissé des chefs-d'œuvre. Par exemple, dans les souvenirs du peuple, il a
mis en scène une vieille paysanne qui raconte à ses petits-enfants ce qu'elle a
vu de Napoléon pi^iun passage d'état-major, le baptême du roi de Rome, l'inva-
sion de la Champagne, et, plus tard, la nouvelle de la fin, à Sainte-Hélène. En
quelques petits tableaux, c'est l'épopée impériale avec ses splendeurs et sa
52
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
[3161
chute, c'est tout le culte de la France pour le vainqueur d'Austerlilz, toute sa
pitié jDour le prisonnier de Hudson Lowe ; c'est encore, dans la bouche d'une
femme du peuple, l'orgueil de la victoire et l'horreur de la guerre ^. L'impres-
sion est inoubliable : n'aurait-il écrit que cela , Béranger mériterait sa
renommée.
Ce qui le grandit encore à nos yeux, c'est la comparaison que nous établis-
sons involontairement entre ses chansons et celles d'aujourd'hui. Depuis trente
ans, c'est un domaine où régnent la platitude, la sottise et la grossièreté ; ce
qui élait jadis la pensée mélodieuse de la foule n'en est plus que le plus
méprisable plaisir. Et il suffit de songer à telle romance larmoyante, bèlée de
Narbonne à Dunkerque, de se rappeler tel refrain imbécileet brutal, triomphe
des cafés-concerts, pour éprouver à l'égard du vieux chansonnier de l'estime et
de la gratitude. Au moins, lui, il écrivait en français ; il était aimable, sérieux
ou amusant ; et ce qu'il destinait à être chanté signifiait quelque chose.
La chanson correspond à un besoin populaire ; Aieille comme l'humanité,
elle ne périra pas sans doute et une renaissance lui viendra. Ce jour-là, on
évoquera moins le souvenir de Béranger. Mais je ne crois pas que son nom
disparaisse. Si une partie de son œuvre est caduque, soit par son peu de valeur,
soit parce qu'elle tirait toute sa valeur de l'actualité, une autre partie, petite
à la vérité, mais de réel mérite,' demeurera dans la mémoire de la nation. Et
si cette partie sombre à son tour dans le grand naufrage, Béranger lui-même
ne sera jamais un inconnu. Pour reprendre un mot célèbre, n'aura-t-il pas été
« un moment de la conscience française » i'
Max JvsixsKi.
2. Ainsi le vieux sergent qui oppose si lragi([iiement les vieux soldats aux jeunes oiri-
ciers et résume en quelques traits la situation terrible où se trou\ait alors l'armce
française.
Les souvenirs du peuple.
On parlera de sa gloire
Sous le chaume ' bien longtemps.
L'humble toit dans cinquante ans
Ne connaîtra plus d'autre histoire.
Là viendront les villageois
Dire alors à quelque vieille :
Par des récits d'autrefois,
Mère, abrégez notre veille.
Bien, dit on, qu'il nous ait nui,
Le peuple encor le révère.
Oui, le révère.
— Parlez-nous de lui, grand'mèrc ;
Parlez-nous de lui.
Mes enfants, dans ce village,
Suivi de rois, il passa '-.
Voilà bien longtemps de ça :
Je venais d'entrer en ménage.
A pied, grimpant le coteau
Où pour voir je m'étais mise,
11 avait petit chapeau
Avec redingote grise.
Près de lui je me troublai ;
I. dans les chaumières. — 2. En 1810.
Il me dit : » Bonjour, ma chère.
Bonjour, ma chère !
— Il vous a parlé, grand'mère ,
Il vous a parlé !
L'an d'après, moi, pauvre femme,
A Paris étant un jour,
Je le vis avec sa cour :
11 se rendait à Notre-Dame ^.
Tous les coeurs étaient contents ;
On admirait son cortège.
Chacun disait : quel beau temps !
Le ciel toujours le protège.
Son sourire était bien doux.
D'un fils Dieu le rendait père.
Le rendait père.
— Quel beau jour pour vous 1
'^grand'mère,
Oucl beau jour pour vous!
.Mais quand la pauvre Champagne
Fut en proie aux étrangers ^,
Lui, bravant tous les dangers,
Semblait seul tenir la campagne.
Un soir, tout comme aujourd'hui,
J'entends frapper à la porte.
J'ouvre. Bon Dieu ! c'était lui.
3, En 1811. — 4. En i8ii.
[317]
PAKTIE FRANÇAISE
5;;
Suivi d'une faible escorte.
Il s'asseoit où me voilà,
S'écriant : Oh! quelle guerre !
Oh ! quelle guerre !
— 11 s'est assis là, grand'uière,
Il s'est assis là !
J'ai faim, dit-il ; et bien vite
Je sers piquette ' et pain bis :
Puis il sèche ses habits.
Même à dormir le feu l'invite.
Au réveil, voyant mes pleurs,
11 me dit : Bonne espérance !
Je cours, de tous ses malheurs
Sous Paris venger la France.
Il part et, comme un trésor,
J'ai, depuis, gardé son verre,
5. Vin tïrossier.
Gardé son verre.
— Vous l'avez encor, grand' mère,
Vous l'avez encor ?
Le voici. Mais à sa perle
Le héi'os fut entraîné.
Lui qu'un pape a couronné
Est mort dans une île déserte.
Longtemps aucun ne l'a cru ;
On disait : Il va paraître ;
Par mer il est accouru ;
L'étranger va voir son maître.
Quand d'erreur on nous tira,
Ma douleur fut bien amère.
Fut bien amère !
— Dieu vous bénira, grand'mèic.
Dieu vous bénira.
Bkranger.
Les lettres de la reine Victoria.
Depuis quelques mois tous les Anglais lisent avec respect la correspondance
de la Reine Victoria, éditée depuis peu' sur l'oi'dre du roi Edouard Vil. Rien ne
fait plus d'honneur que cette correspondance au bon sens, à la noblesse et à
l'esprit de la vieille souveraine. Nous-mêmes, Français, ne pouvons lire avec
indifférence le premier volume qui vient de paraître. D'abord il est attachant
et instructif par lui-même ; puis il abonde en choses qui nous intéressent
directement.
Voici, par exemple, un portrait de Napoléon III :
L'empereur est un homme très extraordinaire, avec de très grandes qualités avérées ;
je pourrais presque dire que c'est l'homme nujstériettx. Evidemment, il possède un cou-
rage indomptable, une fermeté de dessein inébranlable, de la confiance en lui-même,
de la persévérance et une grande discrétion ; j'ajoulerai encore une grande confiance
en ce qu'il appelle son étoile : il rattache les présages et les incidents à sa future des-
tinée avec une foi qui est presque romanesque. Eln même temps, il est doué d'un
merveilleux empire sur lui-même, d'un grand calme, on peut même dire d'une
grande douceur et d'une puissance de séduction qui est très vivement ressentie par
tous ceux qui vivent davantage dans son intimité.
Jusqu'à quel point est-il influencé par le sentiment moral de ce qui est juste, ou ne
l'est pas, c'est bien difficile à dire. . .
Dans une autre lettre, la reine Victoria compare Napoléon III à Louis-Philippe :
Je dirais — déclare-t-elle — que le roi possédait des connaissances étendues sur
toutes choses. Il avait une énorme expérience des affaires publiques et une grande
activité d'esprit. L'empereur a beaucoup de jugement et une plus grande fermeté de
dessein, mais aucune habitude des affaires politiques et aucune application intellec-
tuelle. De même que le feu roi, il est doué d'une imagination fertile peut-être
excessive.
Une autre grande différence entre le roi Louis-Philippe et l'empereur, est que le
I. Voir un compte rendu de l'ouvrage dans le Supplément du 5 décembre 1907.
5i
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
[318]
pauvre roi était absolument Français de caractère ; il avait toute la vivacité et la loqua-
cité de ce peuple tandis que l'empereur est aussi peu Français que possible et ressem-
ble beaucoup plus à un Allemand... Comment pourrait-on espérer que l'eaipereur
puisse avoir quelque expérience desaffaires publiques, étant donné que, il y a six ans,
il vivait comme un pauvre exilé, qu'il fut emprisonné durant quelques années et ne
prit jamais la part la plus insignifiante à la vie politique d'aucun pays ?
11 est donc très étonnant, presque incompréhensible qu'il ait montré ces dons
d'homme d'Etat et tout ce tact merveilleux dont il témoigne dans sa conduite et ses
manières et que beaucoup de fils de rois, nourris dans les palais et élevés au milieu des
affaires, n'arrivent jamais à avoir. Je crois également qu'il serait incapable des ruses
et des duperies familières au roi Louis-Philippe.
Combien la lecture de cette correspondance sera plus captivante encore
lorsque nous arriverons, dans les volumes prochains, à des événements plus
rapprochés de nous !
Sur un paysage hollandais*.
Les ruisseaux traînent d'un air las,
el nulle brise ne caresse
les feuilles mortes, qui là-bas
semblent s'éteindre de vieillesse.
Des corbeaux planent lentement
ouvrant leurs ailes immobiles ;
dans l'air calme un moulin à vent
étire ses bras inutiles.
Voir le texte dans la partie allemande.
Tout semble endormi sous les cieux
jusqu'à cette maison fantôme,
qui s'est enfoncé jusqu'aux yeux
le bonnet de son toit de chaume.
Un pâtre auprès de son barbet
sommeille, accoudé sur des gru-
[mes,
et la nature à son rouet
s'endort aussi, lilant des brumes.
(Traduit de Lenau
par M. Victor Riemer,
I)rofesseur au lycée de la Rochelle.)
Histoire de Pierre la Barbe-grise.
Un jour de fenaison, comme Pierre la Barbe-grise rentrait chez lui après
un rude travail de quinze heures, plus furieux que de coutume, deman-
dant sa soupe qui n'était pas prête, jurant, écumant, et maudissant les
femmes et leur paresse :
— Eh quoi! Pierre, vous en parlez à votre aise', lui dit sa femme;
voulez-vous changer de rôle? Demain je fanerai pour vous ; vous ferez le
ménage à ma place. Nous verrons qui des deux aura le plus de peine et
s'en tirera le mieux -.
— Marché fait^ s'écria Pierre; il faut qu'une fois pour toutes vous
sachiez par expérience ce que souffre un pauvre mari : cela vous appren-
dra le respect; c'est une leçon dont vous avez besoin.
Le lendemain, au point du jour, la femme partit, le râteau sur l'épaule,
la faucille au côté, heureuse de voir le soleil el chantant à plein gosier
comme l'alouette.
Qui fut un peu surpris de se trouver seul au logis? Ce fut Pierre la
I. Vous n'ave: pas de mérite à parler ainsi. — 2. réussira le mieur. — 3. c'est concenu.
[319] PARTIE FRANÇAISE o5
Barbe-grise; mais il n'en voulut point avoir le démenti". Aussi se mit-il
à battre le beurre comme s'il n'avait lait autre chose de sa vie.
On s'échauffe aisément quand on fait un métier nouveau. Pierre avait
le gosier sec'; il descendit à la cave pour tirer la bière au tonneau. Il
venait d'enfoncer la bonde "^ et allait y mettre un robinet, quand il entendit
un grognement au-dessus de sa tête : c'était le porc qui ravageait la cui-
sine.
— Mon beurre est perdu ! s'écria la Barbe-grise.
Et le voilà qui monte l'escalier quatre à quatre \ tenant le robinet à la
main. Quel spectacle ! La baratte renversée, la crème par terre et le pour-
ceau se vautrant dans les flots de lait !
Un plus sage eût perdu patience. Pierre se jette sur l'animal qui se
sauve en grognant. Mal en prit au voleur ^ car son maître le saisit au
passage et lui donna sur la tempe un coup de robinet si bien appliqué
qu'il en tomba raide mort sur le coup.
En retirant l'arme toute sanglante, Pierre songea qu'il n'avait pas fermé
la bonde et que la pièce ^ coulait toujours ; il courut à la cave. Heureu-
sement, la bière ne coulait plus. Il est vrai qu'il n'en restait plus une
goutte dans le tonneau.
Il fallait recommencer la besogne et battre du beurre si l'on voulait
diner. Pierre retourna à la laiterie; il y avait encore assez de crème pour
réparer l'accident du matin. Le voilà donc qui bat et bat de plus belle'".
Tout en battant, il songea, mais un peu tard, que la vache était encore à
rétable et qu'on ne lui avait donné ni à boire ni à manger, quoique le
soleil fût déjà haut sur l'horizon. Aussitôt le voilà qui court à l'écurie,
mais l'expérience l'avait rendu sage :
— J'ai là, pensa-t-il, mon petit enfant qui se roule par terre; si je
laisse la baratte, le gourmand la renversera : un malheur est bientôt arrivé.
Sur quoi", il mit la baratte sur son dos et alla tirer de l'eau pour
abreuver la vache. Le puits était profond, les seaux n'enfonçaient pas;
Pierre, qui s'impatientait, se pencha sur la corde pour en finir. Paf ! voilà
le lait '^ qui lui coule sur la tête avant de tomber dans le puits.
— Décidément, dit Pierre, je n'aurai pas de beurre aujourd'hui; son-
geons à la vache; il est trop tard pour la mener aux champs, mais il y a
sur le chaume de la maison " ime belle récolte de foin qu'on n'a point
coupée. Notre bête ne perdra rien à rester au logis.
La vache sortie de l'étable, la faire monter sur le toit n'était pas malaisé :
la maison, construite dans un creux, était presque au niveau du sol; une
large planche fit l'affaire '^ et voilà la vache installée commodément dans
son pâturage aérien.
Pierre ne pouvait rester sur le toit à garder la bête; il fallait faire la
soupe et la porter aux faucheurs; mais c'était un homme prudent et qui
ne voulait pas exposer sa vache à se rompre les os ; aussi lui attacha-t-il
une corde autour du cou ; cette corde, il la fit descendre avec soin par la
cheminée de la cuisine ; cela fait, il rentra au logis, et s'attachant la corde
autour de la jambe :
[>. il persista dans sa résolution. — 5. avait soif. — 6. Trou par où l'on introduit le robinet
— 7. très vite. — 8. il arriva du mal au voleur. — 9. le tonneau. — 10. avec plus d'ar-
deur qu'auparavant. — ii. ensuite. — 12 Le lait qui était dans la baratte. — i3. Les
maisons des paysans étaient jadis couvertes de chaume, sur lequel poussait d e l'herbe.
— ik- lui sulfil.
56 PARTIE FKANÇAISE [320]
— De celle façon, pensa-t-il, je suis bien sûr que l'animal se liendra
Iranquille el que rien ne lui arrivera de fâcheux.
Il remplit alors la marmite, y mit un bon morceau de lard, des légumes
el de l'eau, la plaça sur des fagots, battit le briquet'^ et souffla le feu,
quand tout à coup, patatras 1 voici la vache qui glisse du toit et qui tire
mon homme en haut de la cheminée, la tête en bas, les pieds en l'air.
Où serait-il allé? On n'en sait rien, si son heureuse chance n'eût voulut
(ju'une grosse barre de fer l'arrêtât au passage. Et les voilà qui pendent
tous les deux, la vache en dehors, Pierre en dedans, tous deux entre ciel
el terre et poussant des cris affreux.
Par bonheur la ménagère n'était pas plus patiente que son mari. Quand
elle eut attendu trois secondes "^ pour voir si on lui apportait la soupe à
l'heure voulue, elle courut à la maison comme si elle allait y mettre le feu.
A la vue de la vache pendue, elle tira sa faucille et coupa la corde. Ce fut
ime grande joie pour la pauvre bêle qui se retrouva sur le seul plancher
(|u'elle aime'\ Ce ne fut pas un hasard moins fortuné pour Pierre qui
n'avait pas l'habitude de regarder le ciel, les pieds en l'air. Il tomba droit
dans la marmite, la tête la première. Mais il était dit'^ que tout lui réus-
sirait ce jour-là : le feu n'avait pas pris, l'eau était froide, la marmite hors
d'aplomb, si bien que la Barbe-grise sortit à son honneur '^ de cette épreuve
difficile, sans autre accident que le front éraillé, le nez écorché et les deux
joues déchirées. Il n'y eut de cassé que le pot-au-feu.
Quand la ménagère entra dans la cuisine el qu'elle vit son mari tout
penaud et tout sanglant :
— Eh bien! cria-l-elle, en mettant les deux poings sur les hanches,
qui donc a toujours raison au logis? J'ai fauché, j'ai fané! me voilà
comme hier, et vous, monsieur le cuisinier, monsieur le berger, monsieur
le père de famille, où est le beurre, où est le porc, où est la vache, où est
notre dîner? Si notre enfant n'est pas mort, certes ce n'est pas à vous
qu'on le doit. Pauvre petit ! Si tu n'avais pas ta mère!
Sur quoi elle se mit à pleurer et à sangloter.
Pierre reçut l'orage en silence et fil bien ; la résignation convient aux
grands cœurs. Laboulave {Contes bleus ■°).
i5. Avant rinvention des allumettes, on allumait le feu en battant le briquet. — 16.
trè-1 peu de temps. — 17. On appelle vulgairement le s^ol : plancher des vaclies. — 18.
le destin voulait que ... — 19. Iionornhlement, ironique. — 20. Edités chez Fasquelle,
Paris.
L'avare*.
Un avare se plaignait à son voisin : « Malheureux que je suis ! On m'a
dérobé cette nuit le trésor que j'avais enfoui dans mon jardin et à sa place
on a mis une pierre, une maudite pierre.
— Tu n'aurais quand même, lui répliqua le voisin, tiré aucun parli de
Ion trésor. Figure-loi que la pierre est ton trésor et tu n'en seras pas
appauvri.
— Et quand je n'en serais pas plus pauvre, répliqua l'avare, est-ce
qu'un autre n'en sera pas d'autant plus riche ! Oui, d'autant plus riche.
C'est à devenir enragé ! » Lessing.
* Voir les quatre autres parties.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 8.
2D Janvier 1908.
8e Année.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
La jeunesse de Giosue Carducci,
M. Pierre de Boiichaud vient de consacrer au grand poète italien une courte mais
substantielle et \ibranle étude. Une fois de plus noire collaborateur a montré que
l'érudition la plus sûre peut s'allier àla plus fine critique et au charme le plus aimable
du style. Nos lecteurs en jugeront par cet extrait.
G. Carducci élait né le 27 juillet i835 à Val di Castello, hameau de la com-
mune de Pietra Santa, dans la Yersilia.
Mais toute son enfance se passa à Cas-
tagncto Marittimo, un de ces petits vil-
lages de la maremme toscane, ceinturé'
de remparts et campé sur une croupe de
collines dominant les plaines et la mer.
Son père avait dû se réfugier dans ce
bourg et abandonner Val di Castello à
cause de la part c^u'il avait prise aux
conspirations des Carbonari et de la
Jeune Italie. Ce fut donc dans la ma-
remme que Carducci passa sa première
enfance. Il resta toujours fidèle à ce sol
farouche, tourmente, volcanique, riche
en trésors et pauvre d'aspect, crevassé,
dénudé, aux grands espaces déserts qui
finissent à la mer plus déserte encore ;
nids de vautours dans le génie de Vol-
terre, Massa, Chiusdino, où vivait, il y a
deux mille cinq cents ans, la race étrus-
que, intelUgente et artiste, dont les
descendants « encore nombreux dans
la Toscane actuelle, sont reconnaissables à leur taille petite et trapue, souvent
épaissie avec l'âge, à leur figure anguleuse, forte et fine à la fois » -.
Carducci vécut dans la maremme toscane des heures qu'il n'oublia jamais. Il
est bien le fils d'adoption de ce pa>s âpre et sauvage, mais si pittoresque I Que-
relleur, aimant le travail, il fouillait les fourrés en compagnie d'un loup appri-
voisé. Puis, la récréation finie, il regagnait la maison paternelle pour étudier le
latin, comme les enfants ne l'apprennent plus. Bien des années après, à la ville,
à Florence, à l'école de Pise, il apparaîtra comme un garçon robuste et fruste,
mal élevé, au geste violent, les cheveux en broussaille^, mais gardant, enclose
dans son cœur, une simplicité sentimentale^, une naï\cté peuple ^,que la vie ne
modifiera guère et qui restera une des grâces de son œuvre si pleine d'austérité.
Pliot F'" Ai.nari, Florence.
Giosue Carducci.
I. entouré. — 2. Hauvetle (Note de l'auteur)
simples. — 5. pareille à celte du peuple.
[46]
— 3. en désordre.
Ix. des sentiments
FRANC. 8
58
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
[362]
C'est ainsi que dans celle Idylle de marèmme, extrailc des RimeiKuove, il évoquera,
beaucoup plus lard, un des plus doux moments de ce lemps-là...
C'est peut-être à son enfance passée ainsi en pleine liberté que Carducci dut
cet amour de l'indépendance, cette droiture, celte honnêteté, qui firent de lui
un des plus hauts caractères de son époque. Son érudition prodigieuse — il
fut un des plus brillants élèves de l'école normale de Pise — sa critique sagacc
et passionnée l'aidèrent à résister à tout ce qui n'était pas vrai, haut et digne.
Sa vie fut presque soUtaire, car, travailleur infatigable, il n'eut jamais le loisir
de se répandre en société ^ ni de se faire des relations, quelque belles qu'elles
fussent. Ah ! les relations, non seulement il n'y tenait point, mais il s'en gardait
comme du feu. Ce grand et pur poète eut toujours l'orgueil de son indépen-
dance et la fierté de sa conscience '.
Pierre de Bouchaud.
6. de fréquenter la sociélê .
Prix : I fr.)
— 7. Extrait de Giosve Cardvcci. (Paris, Sansot, 1908.
Douceur de vivre.
« Le monde n tout entier pour floraison la vie;
Vivre, c'est échanger sans cefse avec autrui. »
(Sully Prudhomme, Le Bonheur.)
I
La douceur de vivre
Est grande ; elle enivre
De sa fine volupté
Ceux c^ui savourent les choses
Comme on goûte au cœur des roses
L'âme ardente de l'été.
Sur la longue route
Des jours, on écoute
Le vent clair dans les roseaux ;
Et l'on comprend la parole
De l'insecte qui s'envole.
Et le murmure des eaux.
Les couleurs caressent
Les yeux qui se laissent
Emplir de rayons divins.
Du gris nacré de l'espace.
De la flèche d'or qui passe
Dans le ciel blanc des matins.
Combien peut répandre
D'enchantement tendre
Le bleu mauve du couchant,
Le bleu d'argent de la lune,
Le bleu noir de la nuit brune,
Le bleu rose du levant.
Les doux paysages
Ont de chers visages
Qui deviennent des amis ;
Sous l'épais lacis des branches
On court, sur les routes blanches,
N ers tous les bonheurs promis.
Il est dans les villes
Des jardins tranquilles,
Urodés de volubilis.
De pavots blancs, de verveines.
Comme les manteaux des reines,
Tout parsemés de grands lis.
Uafiaîchi d'eaux vives,
L'été sur les rives
Du fleuve apporte un trésor ;
Et, toute rose et moirée.
L'onde, en nappe diaprée.
Glisse au ras des sables d'or.
Puis aux jours d'automne.
Quand le vent frissonne
Dans les grands arbres rouilles.
Il tombe vui charme magicpic
Du miroir mélancolique
Des cicux pâles et brouillés.
Le soir calme pose,
Gris, sur toute chose.
Les mailles de ses réseaux ;
Et les ténèbres bleutées
S'épaississent, veloutées
Comme l'aile des oiseaux.
L'âme alors s'apaise ;
Nul fardeau ne pèse !
Sous l'immense lotus noir
De la nuit épanouie
Se dissipe, évanouie,
La fatigue de vouloir. . .
[363]
PARTIK FRANÇAISE
59
II
O douceur de vivre,
Charme dont s'enivre
Celui qui sait le secret
De trouver dans la nature
L'unique bonheur qui dure
Et ne laisse aucun regret 1
Lorsque le cœur ploie
Sous l'immense joie,
Mûri par le soleil d'or
Gomme un beau fruit de tendresse.
Le désir ardent le presse
De vivre, de vivre cncor.
Et l'âme veut rendre,
Fraternelle et tendre,
Les bonheurs qu'elle a reçus :
]Mêlée aux brises courantes,
Aux haleines odorantes.
Elle parle aux cœurs déçus.
Et dans ses voyages
Aux lointains rivages
Elle voudrait chaque jour
^ erser des bonheurs sans nombre
Sur la pauvre maison sombre,
Sur le loyer sans amour.
Car la vie est brève,
Et le jour s'achève
Sans que meurent les désirs,
Avant que soit épuisée
La coupe, trop tôt brisée.
Des plus délicats plaisirs.
Les beaux yeux de flamme
Où luisait une âme
Pei'dent leur rayonnement ;
Et, sur la bouche muette.
Une pâle violette
Vient se poser lentement.
Puis la mort abaisse
La paupière et blesse
Au cœur celui cjui vivait :
Mais c'est encore une amie
Qui dit le prix de la vie.
Et quel beau rêve on rêvait.
Impassible et belle
Elle nous révèle
Les divins charmes trouvés
A savourer immolDile,
Dans un long sommeil tranquille
Les songes inachevés.
Et les blanches roses
Des deux lèvres closes
Disent que celui qui dort
A goûté, l'âme ravie.
Tout le bonlieur de la vie
Et la douceur de la mort.
Emilie Arnal.
Ce qu'enseigne la lecture des poètes.
iNous voudrions que les enfants de nos écoles apprissent à « lire » les paysages
qui les entourent à travers ces excellents commentateurs c^ue sont les poètes. Ils
en viendraient à les aimer, à y reconnaître la trace de leurs jjères et l'œuvre de
leurs bras. Ils les regarderaient comme un patrimoine sacré qui a formé leurs
ancêtres et que leurs ancêtres ont formé. Ils hésiteraient à les ravager, à les
souiller, à les salir ; ils vénéreraient les grands arbres, tout murmurants de
souvenirs, tout enveloppés d'harmonies. Ils songeraient moins à quitter les
campagnes si douces pour aller s'exténuer et se perdre dans la fournaise des
grandes villes. Ces plaines, ces collines, ces rivières ne leur souffleraient' pas la
haine du voisin^ ; au contraire, ils le voudraient en paix chez lui comme ils sont
en paix chez eux. Mais si l'on osait, les armes à la main, envahir ce territoire
où ils se seraient pour ainsi dire incorporés, ils se lèveraient d'un élan unanime
pour le défendre, comme firent jadis « les grands paysans de la grande Cliam-
pagne » . Leur patriotisme serait un sentiment très pur et très profond, hostile
aux aventures, mais capable, si les circonstances l'exigeaient, de tout dévoue-
ment et de toute abnégation. Car alors la Patrie, ce ne serait plus pour eux
une divinité abstraite qui exige des hécatombes ^ ce serait la terre même dont
ils sont sortis, où dorment leurs aïeux, où ils espèrent leurs tombeaux, et dont
I. inspireraient. — 2. étranger. — 3. massacres.
60
PARTIE FRAl\ÇAISE [364]
l'image les suivrait même dans les pays les plus lointains, enfoncée en quelque
sorte et précisée en eux par les phrases chantantes des poêles. Est-ce qu'on aime
la Famille prise en général ? Non, mais telle personne, tel visage, tel sourire et
tel passé. 11 en est de même de la Patrie*.
Henri Potez.
ti. Cette jolie page est tirée de la Préface de la Petite Anthologie du Nord et du Pa:i-
de-Calais qtie vient de faire paraître notre ami et collaborateur Henri Potez (imprimée
à Lille, chez Camille Robbe) .
L'Empereur François-Joseph*.
Ma bien chère, mon excellente Victoria,
J'aime beaucoup, je l'avoue, le jeune empereur ; il y a beaucoup de bon
sens et de courage dans la chaleur de ses yeux bleus et ils ne sont pas
dépourvus d'un aimable enjouement quand l'occasion s'en présente. 11 est
élancé et très gracieux, mais,, même dans la «mêlée» des danseurs et des
archiducs, tous en uniforme, il est toujours possible de le distinguer
comme le « chef ». Ce trait me frappa plus que toute autre chose, car, à
Vienne aussi la danse est maintenant une « mêlée » générale qui rend la
valse fort dillîcile. Ses manières sont parfaites, exemples d'ostentation et
de gaucherie, simples et — quand il est de bonne humeur, comme il le
fut avec moi — très cordiales et très naturelles. Il lient chacun en respect
sans prendre pour cela un air c( outre » d'autorité, mais simplement parce
qu il est le maître et qu'il y a en lui quelque chose qui lui donne une
autorité que parfois ceux qui délicnnent l'aulorité ne peuvent réussir à
faire accepter ni à exercer. Je crois qu'il sera sévère « si l'occasion se
présente » ; il a quel(|ue chose de vraiment énergique. jNous étions quelque-
fois entourés de gens appartenant à toutes les classes de la société et il
était à coup sur entièrement à leur merci, mais je n'ai jamais vu sa
physionomie s'altérer sous une impression, soit de plaisir, soit d'inquié-
tude.
[Lettre du roi des Belges Léopold /«r à sa nièce, ta reine Victoria ( /853).]
* A'oir les quatre autres parties.
Trop d'honneurs !
Le roi a fait venir Arlequin à sa cour et lui a donné pour l'honorer une escorte
composée du premier ministre Triveliii et de plusieurs valets. — Dans la scène fort
plaisante qui va suivre, nos lecteurs auront une idée assez exacte de la bouffonnerie dont
le théâtre italien des XVII" et XVIII' siècles amusa le public français.
Arlequin. — Dites-moi une chose ; il y a une heure que je rêve ' à quoi
servent ces grands drôles bariolés - qui nous accompagnent partout. Ces
gens-là sont bien curieux !
ThivELiN. — Le prince qui vous aime commence par là à vous donner
des témoignages de sa bienveillance; il veut que ces gens-là vous suivent
pour vous faire honneur.
i . je me demande. — 2. Les valets avaient des livrées multicolores.
[365] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 61
Arlequin. — Oh ! oh ! c'est donc une marque d'honneur?
Trivelin. — Oui, sans doute.
Arlequin. — Et, dites-moi ; ces gens qui me suivent, qui est-ce qui les
suit, eux ?
Trivelin. — Personne.
Arlequin. — Et vous, n'avez-vous personne aussi?
Trivelin. — Non.
Arlequin. — On ne vous honore donc pas, vous autres ?
Trivelin. — Nous ne méritons pas cela.
Arlequin. — Allons, cela étant^ hors d'ici ! Tournez-moi les talons *
avec toutes ces canal lies -là.
Trivelin. — D'où vient donc cela?
Arlequin. — Détalez ; je n'aime pas les gens sans honneur et qui ne
méritent pas qu'on les honore.
Trivelin. — Vous ne m'entendez' pas.
Arlequin. — Je m'en vais donc vous parler plus clairement [il court
après eux en leur donnant des coups de bâton).
Trivelln (s'en fuyant). — Arrêtez, arrêtez ! que faites-vous? (il disparait).
Arlequin (seul). — Ces marauds-là ! j'ai toutes les peines du monde à
les congédier, ^"oilà une drôle de façon d'honorer un honnête homme que
de mettre une troupe de coquins derrière lui ; c'est se moquer du monde.
(Il se retourne et voit Trivelin qui revient.) Mon ami. est-ce que je ne me
suis pas bien expliqué ?
Trivelin [de loin). — Écoutez, vous m'avez battu ; mais je vous le par-
donne. Je vous crois un garçon raisonnable.
Arlequin. — Vous le >oye/ bien.
Trivelin (de loin). — Quand je vous dis que nous ne méritons pas d'avoir
des gens à notre suite, ce n'est pas que nous manquions d'honneur ; c'est
qu'il n'y a que les personnes considérables, les seigneurs, les gens riches,
qu'on honore de cette manière-là. SMl suffisait d'être honnête homme,
moi qui vous parle, j'aurais après moi une armée de valets.
Arlequin. — Oh ! à présent je vous comprends Que diantre ! que ne
dites-vous la chose comme il faut ? Je n'aurais pas les bras démis « et vos
épaules s'en porteraient mieux.
Trivelin. — Vous m'avez fait mal.
Arlequin. — Je crois bien, c'était mon intention. Par bonheur, ce n'est
qu'un malentendu et vous devez être bien aise d'avoir reçu innocemment '
les coups de bâton que je vous ai donnés. Je vois bien à présent que c'est
qu'on fait ici * tout l'honneur aux gens considérables, riches, et à celui qui
n'est qu'honnête homme, rien.
Trivelin. — C'est cela même.
Arlequin. — Sur ce pied-là » ce n'est pas grand'chose que d'être honoré,
puisque cela ne signifie pas qu'on soit honorable.
3. puisqu'il en est ainsi. — /,. allez-vous en. — 5. comprenez. — 6. A force d'avoir
frappé. — 7. sans les avoir mérités. — 8. qu'en effet on fait ici... — 9. dans ces
conditions.
62 PAHTIE FRANÇAISE [366]
Trivelin. — Mais on peut être honorable avec cela.
Arlequin. —Ma foi ! tout bien compté, vous me ferez plaisir de me laisser
là, sans compagnie "'. Ceux qui me verront tout seul me prendront tout
d'un coup pour un honnête homme ; j'aime autant cela que d'être pris
pour un grand seigneur.
Marivaux.
10. tout seul.
Après Waterloo.
>iapoléon, après avoir quitté Philippeville, le 19 a deux heures de l'après-
midi, arriva le 20 à Mézières par la route de Rocroy. Il avait traversé le
département des Ardennes en berline et sans escorte, ne s'arrêtant que la
nuit, évitant de relayer dans les endroits populeux et repoussant toute
démonstration des fonctionnaires qui auraient pu le faire reconnaître. Son
abattement était profond ; il sanglotait au fond de la voiture et ne sortait
de son désespoir que pour demander au postillon où on était et lui reprocher
sa lenteur.
Plus ouvertement était arrivé à Mézières le maréchal Ney. Il avait réuni
à la préfecture les autorités ' civiles et militaires, leur avait conté ses efforts
surimmains à Mont-8ainl-Jean - ; puis, emporté par son bouillant carac-
tère, il jetait son chapeau sur le plancher, outrageait Louis Wlll, blâmait
Napoléon, se plaignait des généraux et, au dire de témoins \ ressemblait à
une bête furieuse plutôt qu'à un homme. » La tête^ de Grouchy ! s'écriait-
il la bouche écumante, la tête de Grouchy ! 11 la faut à la France ! Il n'a
pas marché ! 11 n'a pas voulu marcher au canon 1 » Puis il se sépara
brusquement de ses auditeurs dans la cour de la préfecture et monta en
jurant dans la chaise de poste.
Traullé, commandant de la place, nous a laissé sur le passage de Napo-
léon à Mézières des détails plus circonstanciés :
« Il était alors dix heures passées du soir... Trois calèches formaient le
cortège, je dirais presque funèbre ; la première était celle de l'empereur:
les généraux Bertrand et Drouot étaient, eux, dans la seconde ; le roi de
Westphalie et ses aides-de-camp étaient entassés dans la troisième et y
dormaient profondément. Les rideaux de la calèche de l'empereur ne
furent jamais ouverts ; il me fut donc impossible de savoir s'il y était seul
ou non : point d'escorte ; un officier supérieur en uniforme de hussards
la formait seul ».
(( Ces trois voitures arrivées devant la poste aux chevaux n'en trou-
vèrent point ; les postillons du relai précédant Lonny ^ s'étaient hâtés de
dételer. Force fut d'aller chercher des chevaux à une lieue de Mézières ; en
attendant, les voitures restèrent dételées au milieu de la place des Fontai-
nes pendant plus d'une heure, et quelle heure ! Le général et l'état-
major de la place entouraient les voitures, immobiles comme en un
jour de cérémonie ou plutôt de deuil. Le général Drouot, m'ayant reconnu,
m'avait appelé auprès de sa voilure ; nous causions de cette terrible cata-
I. les fonctionnaires. — a. Partie célèbre du champ de l^ataille de Waterloo. — 3. ont
dit des témoins. — i. la vie. — 5. était sa seule escorte. — G. le relai avant Lonny. Lonny
est un village près de Mézières.
[367] PAKTIE FRANÇAISE 63
strophe, quand l'officier de hussards, dont je viens de parler, après avoir
pris les ordres de l'empereur, vint dire à demi-voix au général Bertrand :
u Général, on vous demande. » Le général qui sommeillait ne répondit pas
et l'officier alla reprendre son poste ; quelques minutes après, l'officier
revint à la charge ^ en répétant, mais d'un ton plus élevé : « Général
Bertrand, on vous demande. » Pour cette fois ^ le général descendit de la
voiture, alla près de celle de l'empereur, passa la tête sous les rideaux et
reçut de la bouche de l'empereur le dernier ordre qu'il eût donné à son
armée. Cet ordre, que le général écrivit devant moi chez le maître de poste,
donnait à tous les corps ^ les environs de Laon pour rendez-vous.
« Il était presque minuit lorsque les chevaux arrivèrent et les voitures
partirent enfin. J'allai les conduire jusqu'aux glacis extérieurs de la porte
de Pierre. Les soldats des postes de la place les accompagnaient de leurs
cris poignants : a Vive l'empereur ! »
I.-A. Rayeur'".
7. recommença. — S. cette fois. — g. les corps d'année. — 10. Ce pathétique récit est tiré
de Variétés ardennaises . (Charleville, Imprimerie du Petit Ardennais, 1896.)
Contes de la Vieille France*,
H
Confiance mal placée.
Dans son vestibule, près du seuil, Satan, assis sur un trône de fer
incandescent, assistait à l'arrivée des âmes : âmes superbes de capitaines,
de juges et de rois ; âmes modestes de laboureurs, de marchands et de
valets, chacune, sur un mot bref, était immédiatement conduite au lieu
du supplice éternel. Ce jour-là, cela dura longtemps. Aussi le prince
des ténèbres commençait-il à bâiller, quand se présenta l'âme d'un poète,
amenée par un diablotin novice dont c'était la première sortie. Triste
butin que cette âme-là ! Maigre, menue, chétive, piteuse, c'était une âme
d'affamé, une âme sans valeur, une âme de rebut. Satan la regarda et,
voyant cette humble contenance, cette mine de chien Ijattu, il éclata d'un
gros rire.
« Tu m'amuses, s'écria-t-il. En vérité, tu as largement expié tes
péchés là-haut. Je te prends à mon service. Voici une chaudière où cui-
sent, dans l'huile bouillante, quelques âmes d'hôteliers. Je te charge d'at-
tiser le feu par-dessous et, en même temps, ^de surveiller l'entrée. Si je
suis content de toi, tu monteras en grade. «
Là-dessus Satan leva la séance ; le poète s'installa près de la chaudière
et tisonna le brasier avec activité. Il n'aimait pas en effet les hôteliers, qui
trop souvent lui avaient refusé du crédit, et il voulait plaire à son nouveau
maître. L'huile bouillonnait en fumant et le feu flambait. II rêva, n'ayant
plus rien à faire.
Alors s'approcha un seigneur vêtu de soie et de velours, avec des plu-
mes au chapeau et des éperons d'or, suivi d'un écuyer, également magni-
fique et drapé dans un manteau de brocard. Or ce splendide seigneur était
saint Pierre ; cet écuyer était saint Thomas, tous deux méconnaissables
sous leur déguisement. Ils venaient rôder aux alentours de l'Enfer, pour
essayer de sauver quelques pauvres âmes ; apercevant la porte ouverte,
* Voir le n° du 5 décembre 1907.
6i PARTIE FRANÇAISE [368]
ils étaient entrés. Saint Pierre salua civilement le chauffeur ; celui-ci
répondit avec courtoisie. La conversation s'engagea, tout de suite cor-
diale, et, très vite, le saint apprit que son interlocuteur avait été, de son
vivant, poète sans lecteurs ; qu'il avait eu toujours très bon appétit, mais
qu'il avait mangé rarement ; qu'il avait célébré le bon vin, la campagne
en fleurs et les joies mondaines, mais qu'il avait bu de l'eau, qu'il avait
logé dans un galetas et qu'il était mort de faim... Et cependant saint
Thomas se penchait sur la chaudière où cuisaient les hôteliers.
« J'aime les vers, dit saint Pierre. N'en savez-vous point par cœur ?
Vous me feriez plaisir si vous me récitiez quelques-uns des vôtres.
— Volontiers. Écoutez-moi ceux-ci : ce sont peut-être mes meilleurs.»
Le poète se mit à déclamer, avec des gestes amples, une figure extasiée,
et une voix tour à tour formidable ou mourante. Puis ce fut une deuxième
pièce, « encore plus belle que la première )) ; puis ce fut une troisième
« peut-être mieux réussie que la seconde ». Et saint Pierre écoutait avec
une évidente admiration. Et cependant saint Thomas attrapa quelques
âmes d'hôteliers qu'il fourra subrepticement dans un sac dissimulé sous
son manteau.
Quand le récitant fut hors d'haleine, saint Pierre s'écria qu'il n'avait
jamais ouï semblables merveilles. Mais comment un tel génie avait-il pu
rester ignoré? C'étaient probablement les envieux qui lui avaient nui.
« Sans doute, répondit l'autre.» Et il se mit à déblatérer contre ses con-
temporains. L'un était parvenu à la gloire par l'intrigue ; un autre grâce à
la camaraderie ; un autre en flattant les puissants ; un autre en volant à
autrui des idées et des vers. Parmi tous ces gens-là, pas un vrai talent. Ce
n'étaient que rimailleurs médiocres. Lui, au contraire... Et saint Pierre
approuvait énergiquement. Et saint Thomas attrapa encore quelques âmes
dans la chaudière.
«Écoutez-moi, dit saint Pierre ; je connais des éditeurs ; je pourrai peut-
être vous faire imprimer. 11 n'est jamais trop tard ; même je vous recom-
manderai à des âmes de critiques qui écriront des articles sur vos poésies.
Sauf de vous, le public d'ici ne parlera plus de personne.»
Alors ce ne fut plus de la joie qu'éprouva le poète, ce fut du délire. II
serra saint Pierre dans ses bras. Il lui assura qu'il lui dédierait une épître
en décasyllabes de style particuhèrement soigné. 11 s'engagea sur l'hon-
neur à lui envoyer ses œuvres complètes, aussitôt éditées. Et cependant
saint Thomas recueillit dans la chaudière le reste des hôteliers.
Les deux visiteurs se retirèrent alors, reconduits avec empressement par
le fidèle gardien. On se sépara après mille pohtesses, en se promettant une
éternelle amitié.
Et quand Satan revint, pour sa ronde nocturne, escorté de quelques di-
gnitaires infernaux, il trouva le feu éteint, l'huile froide, les âmes dispa-
rues et la porte ouverte. Il fit un vacarme épouvantable, jura comme un
païen, jeta son trône à la tête d'un dignitaire, la chaudière à la tête d'un
autre, et donna au malheureux chaufTeur un tel coup de pied, qu'il le
lança hors de l'Enfer, dans l'espace bleu, entre terre et ciel, là où monte la
fumée, où passent les nuages, où volent les oiseaux, là où flottent aujour-
d'hui les pensées des paresseux, des mélancoliques et des rêveurs.
Et c'est depuis ce temps, parait-il, que le Diable ne veut plus chez lui
■de poète et que tous les hôteliers sont en paradis.
Max Jasinski.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 9. 5 Février 1908. 8" Année.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
Une noble vie.
Nous avons souvent, dans Les Cinq Laïujiies, consacré des articles à des morts illustres;
rois, grands artistes, grands poètes. Cependant il est des existences moins connues qui
sont d'admirables exemples d'héroïsme. Ainsi, il y a quelques semaines, est mort
M. Brochard, professeur à la Faculté des lettres de Paris. Ce qu'a été la vie de ce modeste
savant^ on le verra par les extraits suivants du discours prononcé sur sa tombe par
M. Croiset, doyen de la Faculté. Ce discours est bien beau ; ce qu'il nous fait connaître
est plus beat! encore.
A la fin de la semaine dernière, dans une séance de la Faculté, où se discu-
tait une question importante, lecture était donnée d'une lettre où notre collè-
gue Brochard, empêché de venir à la séance, faisait connaître avec détails son
opinion ; et nous admirions tous quelle lucidité vigoureuse et fine il avait su
mettre dans ces lignes, que sa main pourtant n'était plus en état de tracer
elle-même '. Deux jours plus tard, il était mort. Cette brusque disparition ne
pouvait guère étonner ses amis, qui suivaient, avec angoisse, depuis plusieurs
années, le déclin de ses forces et l'implacable progrès de la maladie. Et cepen-
dant, au milieu des plus cruelles soulTrances, la force intellectuelle et morale
de notre ami était restée si intacte, qu'on oubliait presque, à causer avec lui,
la présence du péiil, et que cet homme, dont le corps était miné par un mar-
tyre presque continuel, donnait malgré tout, à ceux qui l'approchaient, l'im-
pression d'une activité sans défaillance et d'une sorte de joie de vivre. . . .
Quand les premières atteintes de la maladie se firent sentir à lui, il comprit
la gravité de ces menaces, et il en parlait avec une franchise mélancolique et
courageuse. A mesure que la lutle contre la souffrance devenait jdIus rude,
son courage s'accrut aussi, et il semblait que les ressources de son esprit se
multipliaient devant les obstacles opposés à son travail. Il ne voulut jamais
renoncer àson enseignement. Chaque fois qu'une thèse de doctorat se rapportait
à ses études, il hgurait parmi les juges de la soutenance, et nous étions émer-
veillés du rôle qu'il y jouait. Privé de la vue, il s'était fait lire le volume, et celui-ci
était tout entier présenta son esprit, dans l'ensemble de sa structure, dans les
détours parfois compliqués de ses déductions, dans l'inlîni détail des citations
dont il s'appuyait. Pendant trois quarts d'heure, Brochard, avec une sûreté de
mémoire étonnante et une fermeté de parole impeccable, discutait le plan, les
idées, l'argumentation, l'interprétation des textes cités, sans qu'on put se dou-
ter un seul instant que ce merveilleux dialecticien manquait de tous les
secours extérieurs qui peuvent servir de soutiens à la pensée.
Depuis un an, ses forces iDhysiques déclinaient de plus en plus. Jusqu'au
dernier moment, il a été entouré d'amitiés tidèles et soutenu par un pieux
dévouement. Mais les crises devenaient plus fréquentes et, parfois, malgré
son courage, il devait trouver que le martyre durait bien longtemps. La déli-
vrance est venue enfin, et la mort, en lui donnant le repos, consacre définiti-
vement, dans le souvenir de ses collègues et de ses amis, l'image de cette belle
vaillance, faite d'activité intelligente et de stoïcisme résigné.
. Depuis longtemps en effet, M. Brochard était aveugle.
[52] FRANC. 9
66
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
[4101
Une réception à l'Académie française.
Les réceplions des nouveaux académiciens sont toujours des fêtes très courues à Paris.
L'une d'elles a eu un succès particulièrement grand, tant par la notoriété des deux
orateurs que par la beauté des deux discours prononcés. M. Maurice Donnay, un des
plus célèbres auteurs dramatiques de notre temps, y a fait l'éloge de son prédécesseur,
M. Sorel. Voici comme il l'a comparé à Taine :
On a traité plus d'un parallèle entre Taine et Albert Sorel : tous deux, en
effet, ont étudié, chacun de son point do vue, les origines de la France contem-
poraine. L'auteur du Traité de
l'Intelligence ^ fut scientifique-
ment chagriné, un jour, de voir
que dos Français, en plein dix-
neuvième siècle, brûlaient eux-
mêmes leurs monuments, leur
hôtel de ville, leurs bibliothè-
ques -. Alors il écrivit un livre
sans optimisme et comme à la
lueur immédiate de lincendie.
C'est au son lointain du canon
de Yalmy, d'Austerlitz et de
Waterloo que l'auteur de l'Europe
et la Révolution ^ écrivit son livre
et. avant de le fermer, il pro-
clame « son admiration pour le
génie de son pays, sa tendresse
pour ses illusions, sa pitié pour
ses infortunes, sa fierté de ses
triomphes et sa foi inébranlable
dans ses destinées ». Sans doute
il pensait que, malgré le malaise
cl l'inquiétude de l'heure pré-
sente, la France demeurait la fille
aînée du Dioil, et que son génie
propre étant de défendre dans le
monde la justice et la civilisation, à travers des doctrines provisoirement
convulsives, elle préparait les temps où les nations se pénétreraient au lieu
de s'envahir, où des hommes patriotiquement internationalistes concilieraient
les différends, où l'on viendrait les uns chez les autres, mais pas tous à la fois ^.
Dans sa réponse, M. Bourget a repris l'éloge de M. Sorel; il a surtout fait celui de
M. Donnay, et, à ce propos, il a peint, de façon très heureuse, le cabaret du Chat-Noir
qui jadis attira tout Paris. Voici ce morceau, qui fut extrêmement applaudi :
Un chat en potence ^ se balançait au-dessus de la porte, de l'iiuis, plutôt,
auraient dit les roinanliques, lesquels eussent retrouvé là le bric-à-brac obli-
gatoire de leurs orgies : des tables et des sièges de bois, dans le style du
moyen âge ; aux fenêtres, des vitraux ; sur les murs, des tapisseries. I ne vaste
cheminée suigissait, garnie d'énormes landiers, avec des trophées d'armes, et
les inévitables tètes de mort. Des tableaux, çà et là, brossés par les habitués du
lieu, dénonçaient la libre fougue de la vingt-cinquième année. Et c'était dans
ce décor fantastique, une non moins fantastl([ue mêlée d'écrivains et de peintres,
de sculpteurs et de musiciens, de journalistes et d'étudiants, d'employés et de
M. Maurice 1»osnay.
I. Taine. — a. Pendant la Commune. — 3. Sorel. — 'i. C'est-à-dire pacifiquement.
— 5. Suspendu, comme un pendu, à luie sorte de potence.
[411] PARTIK FRANÇAISE 67
viveurs, sans parler des modèles *, et, parfois, des vraies grandes dames en
quête d'impressions pimentées '' , le tout présidé par un personnage de haute
mine, la l)arbe rousse aiguisée en pointe, l'œil gouailleur, la lè\ rc impudente,
qui s'intitulait lui-même gentilhommc-cabaretier ^ Il s'était plus modestement
et plus justement défini dans une annonce : « Le C/îa/-A'ojr, cabaret Louis XIll,
fondé en iii4, par un fumiste! » Une arrière-salle, exhaussée de trois
marches, s'appelait l'Institut. Ces trois marches sei'vaient de piédestal aux
poètes, qui venaient là le vendredi — le Chat-Noir avait pris un jour ', comme
une jolie femme — déclamer leurs œuvres. Tous les groupes d'alors étaient
représentés dans ces séances : les macabres et les hirsutes, les anciens hydro-
pathes et les néo-décadents, les brulalistes et les symbolistes, les ironistes et les
intimistes "'. Et tous recommençaient Ja lillérature. De chacun d'eux allait
dater une ère nouvelle. Où sont-ils :' aurait ricané Villon, le mauvais garçon ",
qui avait, comme de juste, sa statue d'ancêtre dans ce pandémonium '-,
Où sont-ils, Vierge smneraine ?
Mais où sont les neiges danlan ?.. . '•
C'est devant cet aréopage montmartrois '^, transporté rue Viclor-Massé, pour
cause de vogue, que vous comparûtes. Monsieur, en qualité de poète inédit,
par un soir du mois de janvier 1889. ^'^ ^^ ^'^s auditeurs de ce soir-là, qui
vous sert de parrain aujourd'hui, nous a tracé un crayon *' du Maurice Donnay
d'alors : «... Je le vois toujours, avec son visage ambré, ses cheveux bleus,
ses yeux noirs et doux, ses lèvres bonnes sous la moustache tombante, sa voix
caressante et paresseuse. Tel un mandarin annamite. . . »
0. Homme ou femme qui pose devant les peintres ou les sculpteurs. — 7. impressions
rares. — 8. 11 s'appelait Rodolphe Salis. — 9. Un jour de réception. — 10. Ces noms
baroques étaient ceux de divers cercles déjeunes poètes. — n. le mauvais sujet. —
12. Salle où se trouvent toutes sortes de choses. — i3. Vers célèbres de Villon. —
14. Le Chat-Noir était primitivement fixé à Montmartre. — i5. un portrait. — 16. cfun
noir presque bleuté.
La mort et le bonheur.
Premier fait. Ce qui fait obstacle au bonheur, ce n'est pas la mort même,
mais la pensée de la mort. Supposez la mort ignorée, elle est comme si elle
n'était pas. L'homme est dans le même état que l'animal ; il vit, comme lui,
dans la môme sécurité, la même placidité, la même félicité. La pensée, voilà
l'ennemi.
Deuxième fait. La pensée de la mort ne hante pas l'homme pendant tout le
cours de sa vie, de son premier à son dernier soupir, sans discontinuité,
avec une intensité égale. 11 y a d'abord les âges privilégiés. H y a ensuite,
chemin faisant ', des intervalles, des jouis, des heures d'oubli et de rémission -,
des accalmies, dirais-je. L'enfant en pleine, tlorissante et joyeuse vie, ne con-
çoit que la vie. Parlez-lui de la mort, il ne sait ce que vou.s voulez dire. Que
la fatalité le rende ■* témoin d'une mort, fut-ce celle de sa mère, il est terri-
fié, non éclairé '<■ ; il demeure dans la même ignorance et, la crise passée, dans
la même insouciance. Pendant la jeunesse et les premières années qui suivent,
la vie est un torrent, elle en a l'impétuosité, l'aveugle furie. Songer à la mort,
avec ce sang qui bouillonne, ces nerfs qui bondissent, ces passions qui s'in-
surgent, avec ces espoirs en possession de l'infini •', avec cette fougue et cette
force à niveler " les montagnes, est-ce possible ? Rien n'avertit. Voit-on s'en
aller ceux qui s'en vont ? On ne les rencontre plus, voilà tout. Senton le
I. pendant la route. Sens figuré. — 2. de calme. — 3. si la l'ataiil(' le rend... — l^.
non instruit. — 5. ces espoirs infinis. — 6. capable déniveler.
68 PARTIE FKANÇAISE [412]
temps fuir ? Ah ! bien oui 1 " on a l'illusion de l'éternité. Voilà donc la pre-
mière moitié de la vie soustraite à cette macabre pensée de la mort. Pendant
tout ce temps, on ne sait pas qu'on mourra, ou on le sait si peu ! L'autre
moitié, il faut l'avouer, s'assombrit, et de plus en plus. Ce n'est encore cjue la
maturité, mais la maturité c'est l'âge de la réflexion et la réflexion c'est la mère
des pensées graves . Il est dillicile de voir ce qu'on voit, les dinicullés qui se
dressent sous nos pas, la fortune qui se joue de nos elTorts, les maladies, les
vides ciu'elles creusent dans la famille, les vicissitudes politiques et sociales,
sans voir se lever en même temps le spectre de la mort. Un Jour, on le ren-
contre face à face : « Que veux-tu ? — Toi, ta femme, tes enfants ! — Hor-
reur ! » Toutefois cette entrevue n'est qu'accidentelle, fugitive. Elle n'a lieu
qu'à des intervalles espacés. Le tracas des affaires, la compétition des
ambitions *•, les succès, les revers, les soucis de la vie publique ajoutés à ceux
de la vie privée, toute cette activité, mouvementée, tumultueuse, désordonnée,
écarte la pensée de la mort, l'afîaiblit ou l'adoucit, nous laisse encore des jours
sereins. IMais voici la triste vieillesse. Le spectre réapparaît, s'assied à notre
foyer et ne le quille plus, il s'éveille avec nous le matin, s'endort avec nous
le soir, rêve avec nous la nuit, se met à table, lit, écrit, va, vient avec nous.
Il est là, toujours là. Mais non, j'exagère, je jibrase '■'. La réalité, atîreuse, ne
l'est pas à ce point. Le vieillard n'achève pas de vivre en ce tète-à-tête perpé-
tuel avec la mort certaine et prochaine. 11 a des diversions. Il n'est pas isolé. 11
s'achemine au terme fatal entouré et comme enveloppé dans un double
milieu, familial et social '", qui le console et le réconforte en l'occupant, le
distrayant, l'aimant. Et puis (comment dirais-je cela que je sens si bien ?) il y
a en lui une ténacité de vivre " (pii lui voile l'évidence. Il sait qu'il mourra
bientôt, mais pas demain ni après-demain, dans un avenir vague, quelconque,
et il meurt en pleine illusion de ne pas devoir mourir encore '-.
Troisième fait. La pensée de la mort, d'abord absente, puis présente, enfln
fréquente, devient de moins en moins amère à mesure que les années se
succèdent plus nombreuses et plus lourdes. Ah 1 la vie est belle en son prin-
temps, parce qu'elle est pleine de fraîcheur et prodigue de promesses, belle
en son été parce que le fruit est là dans la fleur épanouie et va mûrir ; mais
plus tard, lorsque la moisson est recueillie, qu'il n'y a plus rien à récolter
et que voilà l'hiver qui sévit ; lorsqu'on n'a plus rien à faire, rien à espérer,
aucun rôle à jouer dans le drame multiple de la famille, de la société, de l'hu-
manité ; lorsqu'on n'a plus le droit ni le pouvoir d'intervenir ni dans le
bien pour le favoriser ni dans le mal pour le combattre ; lorsqu'on n'est plus,
au milieu des générations nouvelles qui travaillent, apportent leur pierre aux
constructions sociales, (ju'un spectateur oisif et encombrant ; lorsqu'on a vu
disparaître un à un ses contemporains, ses collaborateurs, ses amis, ses témoins,
et qu'on n'est plus qu'un étranger dans une foule indinérente ; lorsque la
famille s'est effondrée '', que les personnes qu'on chérissait le plus tendre-
ment sont parties ''* les premières et qu'on a scellé son cœur avec elles là-bas
sous la froide pierre : quel prix attacher à une vie si vaine, sans objet ' •, sans
honneur, à une vie funèbrement voilée de crêpe et de deuils :* Comment
aimer encore ce qui n'a plus rien d'aimable, regretter ce qui n'est plus regret-
table ? Sont-ils rares alors ceux qui, ployant sous Icfaix ''■, craignent si peu
la mort qu'ils l'invoquent ? Et je n'ai pas tout dit ! Faites cette hypothèse
démentie par les faits : un vieillard que les disgrâces de la vieillesse n'auraient
pas touché : il aura du moins été touché par le temps, touché, c'est-à-dire
dévasté. Il se sera senti blessé, diminué, mutilé, dégradé dans tous ses mem-
bres, tous ses sens, toutes ses facultés. Il aura eu conscience de se désagréger
pièce à pièce, de se dissoudre fibre à fibre, de n'être plus que la ruine informe,
7. ironique. — 8. la concurrence des ambitieux. — 9. je fais des phrases un peu déclama-
toires. — 10. la famille et la société. — 11. une volonté tenace de vivre. — la. avec
l'illusion qu'il ne va pas mourir encore. — i3 o disparu en grande partie. — i/i. sont mortes.
— i5. sans but. Sens étymologique. — lO. le fardeau. Sens (igurô.
[413] PAHTIE FRANÇAISE 69
branlante, croulante, de ce qui fut un homme. Achever de mourir lui serait-il
si effrayant ? La mort, un épouvantail autrefois, se présente maintenant
comme un secours, vui allégement, le repos au bout du voyage, je serais tenté
de dire, comme une amie austère à laquelle on sourit mélancoliquement,
une larme dans les yeux. Non, non, croyez-m'en, aux heures fatiguées, épui-
sées, délabrées de l'existence défaillante, quand la coupe est vide, (ju'il ne
reste que la lie au fond, il n'est pas trop difficile de prendre congé de la vie
qui fuit, de donner rendez-vous aux Aimés '^ qu'on laisse après soi, en un
séjour qui demeure, où rien ne change, rien ne finit, où l'on ne se sépare
plus — dans l'éternelle patrie.
A oilà trois faits mal décrits, mais indiscutables ; rapprochez-les, méditez-les ;
il vous apparaîtra ^^, en un sentiment d'apaisement, qu'on peut être heureux,
même étant mortel.
Emmanuel Ghauvet '•'.
17. /' ceux que nous aimons . — 18. ii vous semblera certain. — 19. Extrait de : Le
Bonheur (Caen, 1908, chez Delesques). Ce passage est d'une belle sérénité, et cette séré-
nité paraît presque émouvante, quand on songe que l'auteur a plus de quatre-vingts
ans.
Paysages.
Loin des cités.
Aucun bruit. C'est la paix profonde des campagnes,
Loin des heurts des cités houleuses, loin des bagnes
Et des enfers que sont nos modernes chantiers.
Sur la grand'route blanche et le long des sentiers
Rien qui sente la houille ou trahisse la mine *.
Bordé par la forêt à laquelle il confine,
Le village, avec son église de granit
Très vieille et ses maisons claires, a l'air d'un nid,
Nid charmant qu'en tous sens, rubans ténus et lisses,
Des ruisseaux, où l'on va pêcher des écrevisses,
Traversent, nid plein d'ombre, à souhait - pour rêver
Au poème ébauché la veille, et l'achever.
II
Le puits.
De la grand'route on l'aperçoit. Sa silhouette
S'enlève ^ sur les frondaisons, rigide, nette,
Attirant le regard ; et les gens du hameau
El s'en montrent très fiers et le trouvent très beau.
Sur la rnargelle en grès fruste, pas de sculptures.
Seuls, la courbe élancée et svelte des ferrures ^
Qui le surmontent, lui faisant comme un berceau,
Et l'art avec lequel est forgé chaque arceau,
En indiquent le style ^ et la date lointaine.
I. fasse soupçonner Ve-cistence d'une mine de cluirhon. — 2. tel ciu'on peut le souhaiter
pour. . . — 3. se découpe bien. — U . Beaucoup de vieux puits sont surmontés d'une sorte
d'armature en fer forgé, parfois très élégante. — 5. le style architectural.
70 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [414]
Et, tout au fond, disque brillant qui tremble à peine,
La nappe d'eau limpide enclose en ce puits noir,
Evoque la mystique image du miroir,
Où, proscrite toujours, la vérité, sans voiles,
Mire éternellement son front nimbé d'étoiles.
P. A. Massv.
La mort d'un héros *.
Nous devons à l'extrôme obligeance de l'auteur, M. Friedrich VVerner van Oeslcren,
'raulorisation de traduire et de reproduire le texte de cette nouvelle. Elle est empruntée
à un recueil qu'il vient de publier chez Egon Fleischel et C'" a Berlin, « Der Weg ins
Nichts ». Ce volume classe M. van Oestéren au nombre des nouvellistes les plusdistin-
gués de son pays. Lire dans le Supplément un compte rendu de cet ouvrage.
I
En même temps que^lichel Lobicki, vingt-sept jeunes gens, réservistes
comme lui, quittèrent leur village natal et se rendirent à Czenstochau. On
les y avait convoqués pour les enrégimenter et les expédier de là vers le
lointain, l'inconnu, en Orient, afin de combattre les ennemis de la patrie
et de les vaincre. Quelle cobue dans la petite gare, sainte mère de Dieu 1
Tout le village avait escorté ceux qui partaient. Et ces soldats revien-
draient en béros ou ne reviendraientpas du tout. Bon Jésus ! que de larmes
versées ! Que de prières, que de vœux montèrent au ciel, balbutiés par les
lèvres frémissantes et douloureuses des femmes !
La séparation semblait particulièrement dure à ceux qui entouraient
Micbel Lobicki, ce jeune gars, beau comme une statue. La jolie Mania, fille
du plus ricbe cultivateur de tout le village, se cramponnait sanglotante à
son fiancé bien-aimé sans vouloir le lâcher. Et le vieux Jan Leschko, son
père, était là. Il aimait tant sa fille unique, seule héritière de ses biens,
qu'il avait consenti à son mariage avec le jeune orphelin. Michel ne pos-
sédait pas im kopeck vaillant et vivait des libéralités de sa sœur. Elle était
là, cette sœur, la maigre Katia Garowicz, que ses parents avaient laissée
dans la misère avec son jeune frère. Elle ne s'en était tirée qu'en happant
ce vieil imbécile de Kasper. Et Kasper enfin était là aussi. Sur l'ordre de sa
femme, il avait donné à son beau-frère Michel une bonne provision de
roubles clinquants. D'ailleurs tous ceux qui voyaient partir un des leurs
avaient entamé pour lui l'argent si âprement, si péniblement épargné, et
cela plus ou moins, mais autant que le permettait la dureté des temps. Et
si maintenant leurs larmes coulaient surtout dans la douleur de la sépara-
tion, dans le souci et l'angoisse du sort qui attendait les jeunes gens, ils
en versaient bien aussi quelques-unes à la pensée de leurs belles pièces
d'argent perdues sans retour. Mais pourtant, ils étaient fiers, ceux qui res-
taient là, tous, tous. Fiers de voir quelqu'vm de leur sang, de leur nom,
partir pour sauver là patrie, et, si le bon seigneur .lésus en avait décidé
ainsi, pour revenir ensuite en héros, en triomphateur,
' Voir les quatre autres parties.
[415] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 71
Cet orgueil, cet espoir flambaient dans tous les yeux, illuminaient les
fronts et les joues. Et les regards de Mania, la jolie lille dont le cœur
débordait d'inquiétude et de tristesse, rayonnaient aussi à travers le voile
épais des larmes qui, sans discontinuer, jaillissaient de ses yeux.
« Michel, mon bien-aimé, mon unique trésor, Michel, gémissait-elle
sanglotante, ne m'oublie pas, reste-moi fidèle. Vois-lu, on dit que les
Japonaises sont si belles, oh, si belles. .Je le sais bien, va, j'en suis sûre.
Et quand tu seras un beau monsieur, im héros célèbre, Michel, ô mon
Michel, ne m'oublie pas, reviens-moi. Je t'attendrai ; jour et nuit, je ne
penserai qu'à toi. Je te le jure au nom de l'auguste viergede Czenstochau,
notre mère bien-aimée, que pour toi j'implorerai sans cesse, Michel, ô
mon Michel. »
« 0, Michel, dit à son tourKatia d'une voix flùtée, n'oublie pas, entends -
tu, d'offrir un gros cierge à notre bonne mère de Czenstochau. Je t'ai
donné de l'argent pour cela. Et aA^ant tout, dis-lui, entends-tu bien, que
Katia Garowicz est une très brave femme, une bonne chrétienne et qu'elle
demande sa bénédiction. Entends-tu, ne l'oublie pas. »
{A suivre.)
Friedrich AVerxer van Oestéren.
Grandes routes et sentiers.
A travers champs s'en va la route poudreuse, aveuglante et nue ; adroite,
à gauche s'entr'ouvrent des petits chemins délicieux, tout ombragés de
peupliers et de chênes, où chantent les rossignols elles merles ; des haies
les bordent où le chèvrefeuille s'enlace à l'aubépine et à l'églantier, et
d'alertes ruisseaux les rafraîchissent. La route mène auK grandes villes où
l'homme croit toujours trouver lionneur et profit; les sentiers en éloignent
et conduisent aux métairies, aux fontaines où l'on ne saurait trouver que
le calme et la solitude. Les gens pratiques et pressés d'arriver se hâtent
sur la grand'route, en voiture, à bicyclette, ou, s'ils le peuvent, en auto-
mobile. Simples piétons, ils rencontrent de beaux équipages qui les aveu-
glent et les étouffent de poussière, les écrasent quelquefois et rarement
s'arrêtent pour leur offrir une place et les conduire plus loin au but...
Les rêveurs ne peuvent résister au charme des petits cliemins ; ils s'y
engagent ravis, les parcourent à pas lents, s'y arrêtent, s'y reposent, regar-
dant voler les papillons et les libellules, écoutant gazouiller les ruis-
seaux et les oiseaux, oubliant enfm le monde et les humains comme le
moine légendaire fasciné par le chant de l'oiseau bleu' . Ces flâneurs ne
rencontrent que des rustiques^ indifférents ou de rares artistes avec les-
quels ils échangent quelques propos sympathiques et admiratifs-^ ; et les
longues marches qu'ils font ainsi ne les mènent à rien.
M. Genès^.
I. Allusion à une légende où l'on voit un moine qui, cent années durant, écouta
chanter un oiseau bleu, sans s'apercevoir de la fuite du temps. — 2.;)rt//vaHs\ Archaïsme. —
3. Où les interlocuteurs sont sympathiques l'un à l'autre et admirent de concert le
paysage. — 4. Extrait d'un article paru dans Limousi.
72 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [416]
Un voleur attrapé.
Un seigneur, étant venu à Paris pour donner ses soins à un procès dont
le Parlement' était saisi, se trouva un jour enveloppé au Palais-, malgré les
efforts qu'il fit pour s'en débarrasser, par une bande de voleurs qui lui déro-
bèrent une bourse bien garnie. Furieux d'avoir perdu si sottement une
somme considérable, il jura de se venger. D'après ses instructions, un
habile mécanicien lui fabriqua une espèce de trébucliet^, assez petit pour
pouvoir se cacher dans sa poche, et combiné de façon à étreindre forte-
ment la main de tout individu qui tenterait de s'approprier sa bourse.
L'instrument mis en place, il alla se promener au Palais, se mêlant à tous
les groupes, s'arrêtant de distance en distance, le nez en Pair, semblant
en un mot inviter les filous à lui prendre sa bourse, dont les cordons sor-
taient à dessein de sa poche.
Plusieurs jours se passèrent sans que ce manège eût de résultat ; enfin
un matin il a le bonheur^ de se voir suivi, serré de près, entouré comme la
première fois, et de sentir une main se glisser le plus doucement possible
dans le piège disposé tout exprès pour la saisir ; il s'arrête, l'oreille au
guet% et bientôt il entend le bruit de la détente de la machine ; plus de
doute, sa ruse a réussi. Sans se retourner, sans faire semblant de savoir
ce qui vient de se passer, il reprend sa promenade, traînant derrière lui
son voleur, que la douleur et la honte empêchaient de tenter le moindre
effort pour dégager sa main. Cependant, le promeneur, ou plutôt le
triomphateur, se retournait quelquefois et repoussait son prisonnier com-
me un importun. Cedernier lui disait à voix basse et d'un ton suppliant :
(( Monsieur, je vous en prie, ne m'humiliez pas davantage » . Mais celui
dont il implorait la pitié paraissait ne pas entendre et continuait paisible-
ment sa promenade. L'attitude triste et honteuse du filou fixait sur lui
tous les regards ; et plusieurs, se doutant du piège dans lequel il était tombé,
riaient de sa déconvenue. Enfin le gentilhomme, se retournant vers lui
brusquement, lui dit, avec un visage enflammé de colère : u Pourquoi sui-
vez-vous ainsi mes pas, monsieur le larron ? » Le filou confus, ne sachant
que répondre, il ajouta aussitôt : « C'est toi misérable qui as pris ma
bourse ; il faut que je te fasse pendre ! » A ces mots, le coupable lui pro-
met de restituer l'argent (]u'il lui a pris, s'il consent à dégager sa main.
Le seigneur ne voulut point le relâcher avant d'avoir été dédommagé de ce
qui lui avait été dérobé. Le filou, ayant aperçu un de ses camarades, le. pria
de lui procurer la somme nécessaire pour recouvrer sa liberté, et aussitôt
qu'elle lui eut été remise, il la comptas au seigneur qui lui avait donné une
si rude leçon.
Paul Chaumeï.
(l'Ecole laïque.)
I. Ancien nom des Cours d'Appel. L'Iiistorietle se passait en efFet avant 1789.
— 2. Le Palais de Justice. — 3. .Sorte de piège. — ti. la joie. — 5. écoutant attentivemenl
— C. il la donna.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 10. 20 Février 1908. 8^ Année.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
La Corse moderne.
Après avoir été soumise pendant plusieurs siècles au dur despotisme et à
l'exploitation éhontéc des (îénois, la Corse s'est rapidement relevée sous
l'administration de la France. La Révolution a fait d'elle un département, et elle
a participé dès lors, dans la mesure où sa situation le lui permettait, à tous les
progrès accomplis par nous. Des routes nombreuses sillonnent aujourd'hui
ses montagnes. Trois voies ferrées relient Corte, l'acropole de l'île, la patrie de
Paoli, le héros de l'indépendance, aux ports qui s'ouvrent sur la côte : Bastia,
Ajaccio, Calvi, l'Ile Rousse. Des écoles s'élèvent dans chaque village à côté des
églises. Des établissements d'enseignement secondaire, dans les principaux cen-
tres, ont une population scolaire très élevée. La tyrannie génoise a fait place à
un régime de liberté. Par ces progrès matériels, intellectuels et politiques la
Corse s'est de plus en plus rapprochée de sa patrie d'adoption. Faut-il en con-
clure qu'elle ait perdu toute originalité? Nullement.
Son état social se ressent toujours du passé. L'esprit de clientèle ^ est encore
très vivant. La nature insulaire et montagneuse de la Corse, sa division en
compartiments étroits séparés les uns des autres par des chaînons latéraux ^ ont
favorisé partout le développement de la vie locale, l'émietlement de l'autorité,
le partage de l'île en paroisses ou « pièves », qui groupent tous les habitants
d'une même vallée. La Corse a été une terre d'élection ^ pour la féodalité. Les
barons chargés de la défendre contre les invasions successives ont réduit les
insulaiies à la condition de vassalité. Aujourd'hui encore, où la pauvreté met
trop de Corses dans la dépendance des « grandes familles », l'idée d'un état
impersonnel, le même pour tous, ne s'est pas pleinement substituée à l'esprit
de clientèle; et cet esprit, bien plus que l'esprit égalitaire républicain, est carac-
téristique de l'état social du peuple corse, qui donna un maître à la France
elle-même '\
On s'explique par là cpie dans la vie politique les questions de personnes
aient beaucoup plus d'importance cpie les questions de principes. Les Corses
votent le plus souvent pour un parent, pour un ami, pour l'homme qui leur
fera obtenir une place, une « faveur », et non pas pour une idée. Si le temps
n'est plus où « chaque maison était devenue une citadelle crénelée, où les
hommes se tenaient sans cesse à l'atTùt, tandis que les femmes protégées par
les mœurs sortaient librement et vaquaient aux travaux de la campagne », il
n'est pas rare les jours de scrutin de voir le sang couler, et les coupables cher-
cher un refuge dans le maquis '. Les coups de feu accompagnent surtout les
élections municipales. Les insulaires attachent en effet une im])ortance excep-
tionnelle à la possession de la mairie, qui leur permet de faire peser la plus
lourde part des impôts de répartition ^ sur leurs adversaires. La fraude est si
I. Tournure desprit qui fait subordonner des gens pauvres {clients) à quelques hom-
mes riches ou puissants {patron/:). Somenir de Rome. — 2. Petites cliaînes de monta-
gnes parallèles entre elles et qui se détachent d'une cliaîne de montagnes centrale. ^ —
3. une terre trh farorahle. — 4. Napoléon. — 5. Partie inhabitée delà Cor.se. — 6. Impôts
fixés, dans chaque commune, par des citoyens nommés répartiteurs.
[58] FRANC. 10
74 PARTIE FRANÇAISE ['458]
fréquente que la jurisprudence française en malicrc de délits électoraux est
fondée sur des cas empruntés presque exclusivement à la Corse. L'exemple le
plus curieux à citer est celui des colonnes volantes '' d'électeurs, que la vente
secrète d'un lopin de terre a fait inscrire dans une commune voisine, .et qui, par
leur arrivée inopinée, assurent à la minorité une majorité de surprise.
L'activité économique tente beaucoup moins les Corses que la vie politique.
Leur réputation d'indolence est en grande partie justifiée « à en juger par le
peu de cas qu'ils font des immenses ressources du pays ». En maints cantons
les travaux agricoles sont confiés à des journaliers italiens, venus de Toscane, et
que l'on traite dédaigneusement de Lucchesi (Lucquois), parce qu'ils venaient
autrefois presque tous des environs de Lucqucs. La vie en plein air dans l'azur
et dans le soleil, avec un minimum de besoins et d'efforts, leur paraît bien pré-
férable à l'activité incessante des continentaux. La fierté, qui faisait autrefois
considérer le travail manuel comme indigne d'un homme libre, les pousse au
reste de préférence vers la vie militaire et les emplois administratifs.
La vie morale des Corses n"a pas davantage changé. La solidarité familiale, le
respect de l'autorité palernelle remplacée par celle de l'aîné, c^uand le père a
disparu, l'attachement au foyer et au sol natal, la fidélité conjugale, le culte
des morts, l'hospitalité, le courage, la gravité, la sobriété y sont restés en hon-
neur. Beaucoup de croyances et de pratic^ues superstitieuses subsistent. Dans
les villages surtout, les traditions ont peu changé. On y entend encore paifois
des voceri et des lainenli^. Quelques bergers restent fidèles au vieux costume
national et ne sortent jamais sans leur fusil. La vendetta fait toujours des victi-
mes, et la criminalité est proportionnellement beaucoup plus élevée que dans
tout autre déparlement français.
Si, à tous ces traits par lesciuels se révèle la profonde originalité de la vie sociale,
politique, économique et morale de la Corse, on ajoute la beauté de ses mon-
tagnes aux découpures pittoresques, la majesté sauvage de ses sites, l'azur de
son ciel et de sa mer, le parfum de son maquis, où poussent, dans un enche-
vêtrement inextricable, les cistes, les myrtes, les arbousiers et les lentisques, on
comprendra pourc[uoi la Corse a été surnommée « l'ilc de Beauté », et pour-
c^uoi elle est passionnément aimée de tous ceux qui savent gré à un pays de
n'être pas banal ^
R. Dupucii.
7. troupes mobiles. — 8. Chanl.s de deuil improvisés, en usage aux eiitcrremenls
corses. — ij. Cet intéressant article pourrait servir de conchision à un livre excellent,
consacré à la Corse par MM. Robert Dcpucu et IIantz et qui, sous une forme agréal)lc
et facile, dit de celle île curieuse tout ce qu'il convient d'en savoir. L\ Couse (Paris-
.Uneii) .
Les origines populaires de l'art.
Les plus grands, les plus illustres, les mieux doués sortent souvent du peuple
el, loin de renier cette origine, ils en sont fiers. Comme ils ont laison ! Je crois
en effet que le peuple sera toujours appelé ', plus que l'aristocratie de naissance
ou de richesse, à fournir des artistes au pays, et j'en vois deux raisons. L'enfant
du paysan ou de l'ouvrier est plus près de la nature, source éternelle de l'art;
il a vécu au milieu d'elle, il en a senti les rigueurs et les tendresses. De plus
il est, par éducation, plus adroit, plus physique- —j'allais dire plus sauvage.
J'emprunte à M. Grosse-' cette observation que, chez les primitifs, les peuples
chasseurs sont plus artistes que les peuples agriculteurs : leur main est plus
habile, leur œil mieux exercé. C'est ce qu'il faut encore aux artistes de notre
I. destiné. — 2. matériel. Expression un peu étrange. — 3. Auteur d'un bon livre :
Débuts de l'art.
[459] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 73
temps : une main agile et un œil vif, toujours aux aguets, ou une oreille sen-
sible. Les dons physiques sont, comme jadis, le ressort '-^ indispensable de leur
talent.
On dira : et l'imagination ? et Finvenlion ? et le rêve où l'esprit s'absorbe et
oublie tout le reste ?
l"aisons-Icur la part aussi large que possible, carie domaine de l'artiste s'est
agrandi sans fin. Il regarde, et toutlui est ravissement \ Une Heur, une lumière
dans la nuit, un coin de nappe sur une table sont sa proie. S'il veut, il fixe à
jamais et rend éternels les traits périssables d'un être humain. S'il veut, il évo-
que le passé et, comme un magicien, il fait revivre des hommes qui dorment
depuis des siècles sous la pierre. Il rêve, et, à son commandement, les nymphes
aux cheveux d'or viennent s'étendre à Torée'' des futaies rousses d'automne,
les a-gipans '' dansent dans les îles Fortunées. Il pense, et sa philosophie s'or-
donne ^ en larges décors où la vie de Ihumanité passe et repasse, miraculeu-
sement muée ** en formes blanches et sereines. 11 monte encore, il incorpore
l'âme elle-même ; dans les ténèbres de l'être, il saisit la pensée, la tendresse, la
maternité à la fois souriante et douloureuse. Rien ne l'arrête ; il échappe au
monde matériel ; il est le « sur-homme » '°, il est dieu — et il est esclave toujours
parce que sa royauté est failed'un réseau de liens que jamais volonté humaine
n'a brisé.
Pour mesurer la force de cette servitude, qu'il vous suffise de prendre l'œuvre
des plus grands génies. Duquel pourrez-vous dire qu'il fut indépendant, au
sens absolu du mot, et qu'il a pu fuir le monde réel pour se créer un monde à
lui, chimérique et dédaigneux de la vérité ? Le direz-vous de Phidias qui, pour
nous, incarne l'Athènes de Périclès ? Des imagiers dévots de nos cathédrales, en
qui l'âme inquiète et mystique du moyen âge transparait si vivante ? De Michel-
Ange, dont la Nuit '' accablée dit les tourments du patriote florentin ? De
David et de ses aigles tournoyant autour de l'Empereur '-, de Delacroix et de ses
Croisés '^ où palpite tout le romantisme d'Hugo, des paysagistes de i83o qui
découvrent, après Chateaubriand et Lamartine, le mystère et la mélancolie des
champs ? L'art, un rêve ^^, un mensonge, un monde factice, opposé au réel ?
N'est-il pas, au contraire, comme un décalque exact de la société où l'artiste a
vécu ? N'est-il pas vrai que, si par miracle un grand peintre revivait dans un
autre siècle que le sien, on le verrait, sans aucun doute, produire des œuvres
complètement différentes ? Et c'est pourquoi l'historien, là où les textes et les
faits lui manquent, fait appel aux œuvres d'art pour lui expliquer la réalité
d'autrefois. . ,
Non seulement je ne crois pas permis à un homme, sauf aux aliénés, de
s'évader du réel, mais j'estime que l'artiste, comme le littérateur, est incapable
d'exprimer autre chose que ce c^ue l'on a pensé et senti autourde lui. Si l'on veut
dire que l'artiste transforme ce qu'il voit, qu'il lui imposesa marque personnelle,
nous nous trouvons en face d'un simple truisme' ', car on aura défini ce que tout
homme fait avec la matière éternelle, depuis le laboureur qui cultive son champ
jusqu'au savant qui soumet à ses ordres l'eau et le feu. Si l'on veut dire qu'il ne
peut pas atteindre la réalité vraie sous la surface mouvante des choses, et qu'il
crée un monde à son usage ^'\ nous demandons quelle force humaine a jamais
perçu et saisi cette réalité ? L'art n'est pas autre chose qu'une écriture et, par
suite, une variété du langage, l'expx-ession d'une pensée individuelle qui se
communique aux autres hommes. Les plus misérables sauvages en ont un '^, et
si demain nous étions submergés par la barbarie, il ne pourrait pas disparaître ;
il renaîtrait sous une autre forme. Quand les artistes, comme ceux de notre
ti. ce qui met en mouvement leur talent. — 5. tout le ravit. — 6. lisière. — 7. Demi-
dieux qui avaient un buste d'homme et des pieds de chèvre. — 8.^ se dispose.
— 9. transformée. — 10. au-dessus de l'humanité. Expression célèbre empruntée à Nielzsclie.
— II. Statue illustre qui est à Florence. — 12 . Napoléon I»'', dont David était le peintre
otTiciel. — i3. Fameux tableau d'Eugène Delacroix. — i4. L'art ne serait-il qu'un rêve...
— i5. vérité banale. — iG. pour lui seul. — 17. un art.
76 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [460]
temps, sont a^ipelés à concevoir leur métier sous un aspect très raffiné et sou-
vent subtil, ils n'ont pas à craindre — ou à se vanter — de se mettre en dehors
de la vie de la nation. Ils sont portés par elle jusqu'à ces sommets et leur pro-
duction est unerésultanle'** du travail social tout entier. Loin d'être de brillants
et inutiles bourdons, ils travaillent comme les autres à la fortune de la ruche.
E. POTIEU '9.
i8. conséquence. — ig. Extrait d'une lecture faite le i5 novembre 1907 à la séance
publique anniiellede l'Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-lettres.
Les Bœufs sauvages en Angleterre.
Certains grands propriétaires anglais se plaisent à faire l'élevage d'animaux
exotiques pour peupler leurs terres d'une manièi'e originale et, en même
temps, pour rendre service à la zoologie pure ou appliquée. Au cours d'une
mission qu'il vient d'effectuer, M. Loisel a eu l'occasion de visiter quelques-
uns de ces parcs, notamment ceux où, depuis fort longtemps, on élève
des Bœufs sauvages. Le plus curieux est celui de Chillingham. Sa i^artie supé-
rieure, dans laquelle vivent habiluellement les Cerfs, les Daims et les Bœufs
sauvages, se compose de landes, de ravins et de collines boisées où les ani-
maux se retirent ordinairement pendant le jour. La partie inférieure, séparée
de la première par une clôture, présente de grandes plaines herbeuses où les
animaux viennent paître pendant la nuit, quand on laisse les barrières ouvertes,
après la récolte du fourrage. Pendant l'hiver, on met, dans ces prairies, des
bottes de foin que les animaux viennent manger.
Les Bœufs sauvages de Chillingham possèdent un pelage qui est d'abord
blanc pur au moment de la naissance et devient ensuite blanc crème ; seuls le
museau, les sabots et l'extrémité des cornes sont noirs ; enfin, ils ont des poils
bruns à l'intérieur des oreilles qui sont elles-mêmes d'un brun rougeâtre. Les
yeux sont frangés de longs cils qui donnent de la profondeur et du caractère à
leur regard. Les formes du corps, sont harmonieuses, le dos horizontal et les
épaules laiges. La peau est mince et le poids du squelette est faible par rapport
au poids total.
Ces animaux restent couchés pendant la plus grande partie de la journée,
ne descendant guère qu'à la nuit dans les pâturages. Ils ont les mouvements
vifs et peuvent rivaliser avec les chevaux pour la rapidité de leur course. Leur
force musculaire est extrêmement grande, et on a vu de ces Bœufs, emprisonnés
dans un petit enclos, sauter sans élan par-dessus une barrière de 2 mètres de
haut et ne i^as la briser.
Le troupeau de Chillingham se compose actuellement de Go têtes environ. Les
Taureaux, les Vaches et les Veaux vivent tous ensemble, se déplaçant en bande
sous la conduite, semble-t il, d'un Taureau-cheL Lorsque celui-ci a atteint un
certain âge, huit ans en moyenne, il a à se défendre contre des Taureaux plus
jeunes qui veulent le détrôner ; de violents combats s'engagent alors et le
vaincu, cjui est généralement le vieux, est chassé du troupeau dans lequel on
ne le voit jamais reprendre sa place; il reste solitaire, et comme, dans cet état,
il est particulièrement dangereux, on le tue.
Quand les Taureaux sont trop nombreux, on essaie d'en attirer quelques-uns
en plaçant de la nourriture dans un étroit enclos ; lorsqu'ils sont entrés, on
les prend au lasso.
Une tentative d'élevage plus importante a été faite dans les propriétés du
duc de Bedford. Ce propriétaire, à l'esprit ouvert, cherche à acclimater, non seu-
lement des Bœufs sauvages, mais aussi toutes sortes d'animaux curieux, qu'il
[461]
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
77
laisse errer à leur aise sur ses terres. Cette expérience, commencée en 1892, a
porté jusqu'ici sur iGoo Mammifères et un nombre énorme d'Oiseaux repré-
sentant 80 espèces. En ce qui concerne les premiers, on peut dire que ce sont
les Cerfs importés d'Amérique qui ont donné les moins bons résultats.
D'une manière générale, la plus grande mortalité est due au froid et à l'hu-
midité, surtout pour les jeunes, ou au développement exagéré de parasites dans les
poumons ou Festomac. Il est à noter pourtant que les Cerfs Axis, les Cerfs des
marais de l'Inde, les (Icrfs de Duvancel et les Cerfs-Cochons paraissent réfrac-
taires aux maladies parasitaires ; ce sont aussi les espèces qui prospèrent le
mieux.
Une des preuves des bonnes conditions que rencontrent les animaux dans
les propriétés du duc de Bedford est que celui-ci conserve et obtient la multi-
plication d'espèces en voie d'extinction dans leur pays d'origine : les Elans, par
exemple, qui ont donné, jusqu'en 1905, 34 petits, les Bisons d'Amérique, qui
avaient donné 29 petits et les Cerfs du Père David, qui en avaient produit 38.
De tels essais d'acclimatation sont fort intéi'cssants. Pourc^uoi, en France, ne
sont-ils pas aussi nombreux, et surtout aussi grandioses ?
Henri Coupin.
Le roi Carlos de Portugal.
Tous les journaux français ont consacré de longs articles à ce roi, qui vient
de périr si tragiquement.
Voici un extrait d'unelon-
guc et intéressante biogra-
phie parue dans la Dépêche
de Toulouse.
Les anecdotes qui cir-
culent sur lui le repré-
sentent comme un hom-
me d'un sang-froid allant
jusqu'à la témérité. En
1890, il y avait une
échauffourée ' à Porto ;
le roi, tout jeune, venait
de monter sur le trône ;
on parlait déjà d'une sé-
dition militaire, d'une in-
surrection possible pour
renverser la dynastie. Le
plus tranquillement du
monde, le jeune roi va
se promener à cheval,
seul, sans armes, au mi-
lieu des mutins ; il est
acclamé et la sédition
s'arrête aussitôt.
Voici autre chose : En 1895, de grandes fêtes étaient données en l'hon-
neur du quatrième centenaire de saint Antoinede-Padoue ; une contre-
'W
Dom Carlos.
petite émeute.
78 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [462]
manifestation anticléricale était annoncée à Lisbonne. Tout à coup, une
bousculade terrible se produit devant l'estrade où était Carlos i"', près du
théâtre de Dona IMaria ; le roi reste impassible. La garde - croit que les
manifestants veulent faire un mauvais parti ■ au souverain ; les cavaliers
dégainent et vont charger.
Mais le roi s'est levé, bravant le danger ; d'un geste, il arrête la charge
de cavalerie et fait rentrer les sabres dans les fourreaux : « Arrêtez ! Il n'y
a rien ! » Ce jour-là, son sang-froid a peut-êtrp évité la guerre civile.
On raconte aussi à son sujet des actes de courage singulier. C'est ainsi
qu'il y a quelques années, pendant sa villégiature à Cintia, dom Carlos,
accompagné d'un aide de camp, suivait en voiture et en pleine nuit une
route déserte ; tout à coup, il crut entendre au loin des appels désespérés
et des cris d'angoisse et de terreur. Faire arrêter la voiture, sauter à terre
et courir dans la direction d'oii venait le bruit fat pour lui l'affaire d'un
instant.
Dom Carlos se trouva alors en présence d'un malfaiteur (pii, un poi-
gnard à la main, tentait d'assassiner un voyageur attardé. D'un coup de
canne vigoureusement appliqué, le malandrin ^ fut désarmé. Le roi s'oc-
cupa alors du blessé, le prit dans ses bras, l'installa dans sa voiture et le
ramena à Cintra, où tous les soins lui furent prodigués.
Cet acte de courage ne fut connu que longtemps après, par imc indis-
crétion de l'aide de camp qui se trouvait ce jour-là avec le roi.
En igo/j, à Londres, dom Carlos retournait au palais de Buckingham,
après une promenade à pied dans le Pall-Mall. In cheval attelé à un cab'
prit le mors aux dents et se précipita à une folle allure*"' dans la foule ;
déjà une femme avait été renversée et gisait par terre évanouie. Dans le
cab, un voyageiu-, les yeu\ liagards, poussait des cris perçants, appelant
au secours ; un policeman avait tenté vainement de maîtriser l'animal et se
laissait traîner sur le pavé.
Le roi s'élança, saisit le cheval par la bride et le força à s'arrêter. De sa
main libre, il releva l'agent, qu'il félicita pour son courage. Il reprit lian-
quillement sa promenade, sans plus s'occuper de rien.
Des curieux voulurent savoir (|uel était ce courageux sauveteur ; ils le
suivirent et ne furent pas peu surpris de le voir pénétrer dans le palais
royal, tandis que la garde lui rendait les honneurs.
Au physique, le roi Carlos était un prince épais, grand, solidement
campé sur ses fortes bottines jaunes de chasseur, le cou puissant\ le teint
hautement coloré ; il donnait l'aspect d'un homme robuste, sur de lui, ([ui
n'a pas la hantise» des risques et des embûches et qui jouit de la vie sans
appréhension.
Il se sentait capable de traverser la crise politi(iue et delà dénouer à son
heure^ ; c'était bien ce que signiOaitle sourire de ses petits yeux bleus, bril-
lants et vifs, qui tempéraient la ténacité et presque l'entêtement écrit sur son
front bombé, où perlaient, sous les boucles courtes de ses cheveux blonds
et crépus, de petites gouttes de sueur.
2. les soldats qui gardaient le roi. — 3. maltrailer. — li. le bandit.— 5. fiacre, en
Angleterre. — 6. courant follement. — 7. yros. — 8. la preoccupalion, — 9. quand il le
voudrait.
[463] PARTIE FKANÇAISE 79
Rêves d'avenir.
— Quand je serai grand je m'achèterai
Un cheval vivant de fougueuse allure !
Par monts et par vaux je chevaucherai
Pour chercher au loin la belle aventure !
— Quand je serai grand, comme en Orient,
Je serai nabab comblé de richesses !
J'aurai tous les fruits dont je suis friand,
Un palanquin d'or avec des négresses !
— Quand je serai grand. . . — Malins et joyeux
Ainsi devisaient plusieurs petits hommes ;
Le feu du Désir brillait dans leurs yeux :
Les jeunes Adams convoitaient les pommes.
— Enfants, que les dieux fassent le chemin
Prospère où s'en vont vos rêves en foule !
Hélas ! comme nous, vous direz demain :
Quand j'étais petit. .. — Sous le pont l'eau coule.
B. Reynold.
La mort d'un héros *,
L'orgueil exultant de ceux qui restaient ne paraissait pas animer les
jeunes gens. Ceux-là seuls qui avaient une « pointe », grâce à un nombre
considérable de petits verres, chantaient et déployaient une prolixité
bruyante et vantarde en faisant de grands gestes. Tous les autres se
tenaient là. tristes, laconiques, la gorge contractée, les regards anxieux.
Michel était de ces derniers. 11 éprouvait au cœur une douleur aiguë et
il aurait volontiers donné la moitié de son sang afin de pouvoir rester.
u Mania, mon petit cœur ! Mania, ma pauvre, ma douce fiancée ! Mania,
ma bien-aimée, ma petite colombe, n balbutiait-il de ses lèvres pâles en
caressant les blonds cheveux de la fillette.
« Soyons, mes enfants, objectale vieux Leschko, pourquoi cet affreux dé-
sespoir? Psia krew, moi aussi j'ai été jeune, j'ai été soldat. Je suis allé pour-
fendre les Turcs, je les ai découpés en menus morceaux, ma parole, et j'en ai
pourtant tiré ma peau. Et Michel en aura fini bien plus vite avec ces peti-
tes puces jaunes que moi avec ces bancals de Turcs. Dans un an, il sera
avec nous. Mania, ma petite fille.
— Mais si je meurs, ou si je reviens estropié? que faire alors ? répliqua
Michel d'un air sombre.
Mania se mit à pousser des cris en enlaçant plus étroitement son fiancé.
« Michel ! Michel ! »
Mais Katia déclara fièrement : « Estropié, qu'importe, si tu reviens en
* Voir les quatre autres parties.
80 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [464J
héros, entends-tu jMichel ? Tout le monde devra en être fier. Moi la
première, et je le soignerais jusqu'à la fin de les jours aus^i vrai que je
suis une bonne chrétienne et qu'il me faut l'aide des saints du paradis.
Que ceux qui pensent autrement. ...»
Le vieux Leschko l'interrompit en riant : « Tonnerre! crois -tu donc,
Katia GaroAvicz, que je sois moins bon chrétien que toi ? Michel vivra chez
moi, qu'il revienne malade ou bien portant. N'est-ce pas, petite, chez
nous ? »
Mania sanglotait trop violemment pour pouvoir répondre. Elle fît sim-
plement un signe de tête très affîrmatif.
Mais le dernier coup de sifflet retentit : tout le monde en voiture !
Quelques instants après, ceux qui restaient là, les yeux rougis par les
pleurs, virent disparaître Michel et ses camarades.
{A suivre.) Friedrich VVerner van Oestéren.
Un peuple gai.
Comme les Tyrinthiens ne pouvaient plusprendre leur sérieux sur rien \
toutallait en désordre parmi eux. S'ils s'assemblaient sur la place, tous leurs
entretiens roulaient sur des folies au lieu de rouler sur les affaires publiques;
s'ils recevaient des ambassadeurs, ils les tournaient en ridicule - ; s'ils
tenaient le Conseil de Ville '■, les avis des plus graves sénateurs n'étaient que
des bouffonneries ; et en toutes sortes d'occasions une parole ou une action
raisonnable eût été vm prodige chez les Tyrinthiens. Ils se sentirent enfin
incommodés de cet esprit de plaisanterie et ils allèrent consulter l'oracle de
Delphes pour lui demander les moyens de recouvrer un peu de sérieux.
L'oracle répondit que, s'ils pouvaient sacrifier un taureau à Neptune sans
rire, il serait désormais en leur pouvoir^ d'être plus sages. Un sacrifice
n'est pas une action si plaisante d'elle-même ; cependant, pour la faire
sérieusement, ils y apportèrent bien des préparatifs. Ils résolurent de n'y
recevoir pas de jeunes gens, mais seulement des vieillards, et non pas encore
toutes sortes de vieillards, mais seulement ceux qui avaient ou des maladies,
ou beaucoup de dettes, ou des femmes bien incommodes °.
Quand toutes ces personnes choisies furent sur le bord de la mer pour
immoler la victime, il fut besoin, malgré les femmes, les dettes, les
maladies et l'âge, qu'ils composassent leur air •"', baissassent les yeux à
terre et se mordissent les lèvres ; mais par malheur il se trouva là un
enfant qui s'y était coulé ''. On voulut le chasser selon l'ordre et il cria :
« Quoi, avez-vous peur que je n'avale votre taureau? » Cette sottise décon-
certa toutes ces gravités contrefaites. On éclata de rire, le sacrifice fut
troublé et la raison ne revint pas aux Tyrinthiens.
Fontenelle .
I. être sérieux en rien. — 2. ih se moquaient d'eux. — 3. le sénat. — 4. il leur serait pos-
sible. — 5. acariâtres et désagréables. — 6. prissent une phijsionoinie d'une (jravité forcée,
— 7. glissé.
Les Cinq Langues
NMl. 5 Mars 1908. 8» Année.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
Ce qu'on a dit de nous
Entre 1862 et 1871, Dostoïevski, le grand romancier russe, habita successivement Ber-
lin, Dresde, Genève, l'Italie et Paris. 11 était malade et sa femme qui l'accompagnait était
malade également. Ce sont de mauvaises conditions pour voyager. Aussi trouva-t-il
toutes les villes déplaisantes, toutes les populations antipathiques, tous les-climals détes-
tables. D'après lui, les Allemands sont ennuyeux à mourir; Genève est une cité triste
et noire et ses habitants sont atteints d'une bêtise particulière, la bêtise de l'homme
toujours content de tout et de lui-même; ^lilan, Florence reçurent quelques compli-
ments analogues de ce misanthrope ambulant. Mais c'est Paris à qui il réserva toute l'é-
nergie de sa mauvaise humeur.
M. Rémy de Gourmont, dans un excellent article paru dans la Dépêche de Toulouse, a
résumé les critiques de ce malade à noire capitale; il les a réfutées avec un tranquille
bon sens et une modération dont nos lecteurs jugeront par les extraits suivants.
Paris, dit-il, est la ville du monde la plus ennuyeuse, et ses habitants forment
un peuple dégoûtant d'effrontés et de vauriens. Le Français semble d'abord
doux, honnête, poli, mais il est faux et pour lui l'argent est tout. Aucun idéal,
pas de convictions; pas même de réflexion. Le niveau de l'instruction est très
bas, et ce qu'on appelle la science, en Russie, y est à peu près inconnu. Ceci est
extrait d'une lettre écrite de Paris au mois de juillet i86a. L'année suivante, il
publia dans la revue russe, Vrémia, un récit assez étendu de ses séjours à l'étran-
ger et principalement à Paris. Le ton est moins brutal que dans ses lettres; il
est ironique et quelquefois assez spirituel. Mais on sent que beaucoup de ces
observations sontprises dansleslivresbien plulôtquedansla réalité. La méthode
de Dostoïevski semble être de se renseigner d'abord, puis d'essayer de vérifier
en confrontant les renseignements avec la vie. Un étranger ne peut guère en
employer d'autre, quand il ne fait dans un pays qu'un bref séjour. Elle est dan-
gereuse, parce qu'elle détermine d'avance le sens dans lequel se feront les obser-
vations. 11 est rare que l'on découvre ainsi autre chose que des vérités très par-
ticulières, tellement particulières que le contraire est également vrai et tout
aussi facile à démontrer
Je l'aime beaucoup mieux dans certaines remarques humoristiques sur les
goûts champêtres du bourgeois de Paris. Le Parisien, tel que l'a comm Dos-
toïevski, en t863, avait, outre sa passion pour l'argent et pour l'éloquence, deux
autres besoins : celui de voir la mer et celui de se rouler sur l'herbe. Pourquoi,
se demande Dostoïevski, lui faut-il voir lamcri» Il ne le sait pas lui-même, mais
il le désire violemment. Après avoir remis son voyage d'année en année, parce
que les affaires lui prennent tout son temps, il se décide enfin, et, à son retour,
fier et ravi, il raconte en termes pompeux ses impressions ; toute sa vie, il se
rappellera avec douceur qu'il a vu la mer. Depuis cette époque, le bourgeois
parisien est devenu plus exigeant. Ce n'est pas une fois dans son existence qu'il
veut voir la mer, c'est tous les ans. Et il ne raconte plus son voyage. 11 continue
à aimer à se rouler sur l'herbe et surtout sur de l'herbe C[ui lui appartienne.
Alors, tout comme en i86:{, il achète une petite maison à la cazïipagne, avec un
petit jardin, une petite pelouse, et il accomplit son rêve traditionnel de dîner
[64 J FRANC. 11
82 PARTIK FRANÇAISE [506]
sur l'herbe, sur la bonne herbe dont il est iDropriétaire, et il est un peu ému,
comme Ta dit François Coppée, « quand la lune se lève au moment du café ».
En somme, Dostoïevski n'a vu cjue les tout petits côtés de l^aris, et il les a
peints, tantôt avec àpreté, tantôt avec esprit, parfois avec exactitude, plus sou-
vent avec exagération. 11 n'aimait pas Paris, ni la l'rance, ni l'Allemagne, ni la
Suisse, ni l'Italie. 11 n'aimait que la Russie. Son patriotisme est trop étroit. Dès
qu'il n'entend plus parler russe, il se sent perdu. Dès qu'il ne voit plus de
figures russes, il est mal à l'aise. C'est un homme de génie, mais c'est aussi un
malade et, de plus, un grand naïf. Yeut-on, en effet, connaître la conclusion de
ses voyages ? La voici dans toute sa candeur : « L'idéal de la beauté humaine
se trouve dans le peuple russe. »
Paysage de Lorraine.
M. Anatole France vient de faire paraître le premier volume de Jeanne d'Arc. L'ou-
vrage commence par une courte description du pays où naquit l'héroïne. Voici ce
morceau exquis.
De Neufchàlcau à Vaucouleurs, la Meuse coule libre et pure entre les trochées
de saules et d'aulnes et les peupliers qu'elle arrose, se joue tantôt en brusques
détours, tantôt en longs circuits, et divise et réunît sans cesse les glauques
filets de ses eaux, qui parfois se perdent tout à coup sous terre. L'été, ce
n'est qu'un ruisseau paresseux qui courbe en passant les roseaux du lit qu'il
n'a presque pas creusé; et, si l'on approche du bord, on voit la rivière,
ralentie par des îlols de joncs, couvrir à peine de ses moires un peu de sable
et de mousse. Mais, dans la saison des pluies, grossie de torrents soudains,
plus lourde et plus rapide, elle laisse, en fuyant, ime rosée souterraine qui
remonte çà et là, en flaques claires, à fleur d'herbe, dans la vallée.
Celte vallée s'étend, toute unie, large d'une lieue à une lieue et demie,
entre des collines arrondies et basses, couronnées de cliènes, d'érables et de
bouleaux. Bien que fleurie au printemps, elle est d'un aspect austère et grave
et prend parfois un caractère de tristesse.
L'herbe la revêt avec une monotonie égale à celle des eaux dormantes On
y sent, même dans les beaux jours, la menace d'un climat rude et froid Le
ciel y semble plus doux que la terre. Il l'enveloppe de son sourire humide ;
il est le mouvement, la grâce et la volupté de ce paysage tranquille et chaste.
Puis, quand vient l'hiver, il se mêle à la terre dans une apparence de chaos.
Les brouillards y deviennent épais et tenaces.
Aux vapeurs blanches et légères qui flottaient, par les matins tièdes, sur le
fond de la vallée, succèdent des nuages opaques et de sombres montagnes
mourantes, qu'un soleil rouge et froid dissipe lentement. Et, le long des sen-
tiers du haut pays, le passant matinal a cru, comme les mystiques dans leurs
ravissements^ marcher siu- les nuées.
La rose et le papillon.
Le papillon est j^lus beau et mieux organisé que la rose. Voyez la reine des
fleurs, formée de portions sphériques, teinte de la plus riche des couleurs, con-
trastée par un feuillage du plus beau vert, et balancée par le zéphyr ; le papillon
la surinasse en harmonies de couleurs, déformes et de mouvements. Considérez
[507] PARTIE FKANÇAISE 83
avec quel art sont composées les quatre ailes dont ' il vole, la régularité des
écailles qui les recouvrent comme des plumes, la variété de leurs teintes bril-
lantes, les six pattes armées de griffes avec lesquelles il résiste au vent dans son
repos -, la tromi>e roulée dont il pompe sa nourriture au sein des fleurs, les
antennes, organes exquis du toucher, qui couronnent sa tète, et le réseau
admirable d'yeux dont elle est entourée, au nombre de plus de douze mille.
Mais ce qui le rend bien supérieur à la rose, il a, outre la beauté des formes,
les facultés de voir, d'ouïr, d'odorer ', de savourer, de sentir, de se mouvoir,
de vouloir, enfin une âme douée de passions et d'intelligence. C'est pour le
nourrir que la rose entr'ouvre les glandes nectarées ' de son sein ; c'est pour
en protéger les œufs, collés comme un bracelet autour de ses branches, qu'elle
est entourée d'épines. La rose ne voit ni n'entend l'enfant qui accourt pour la
cueillir ; mais le papillon, posé sur elle, échappe à la main prête à le saisir,
s'élève dans les airs, s'abaisse, s'éloigne, se rapproche, et, après s'être joué du
chasseur, il prend sa volée, et va chercher sur d'autres fleurs une retraite plus
tranquille.
Ici le philosophe m'arrête : l'Etre tout-iDuissant, dit-il, est sans doute infini-
ment intelligent ; mais il n'est pas bon, puisqu'il a livré à l'inquiétude et à la
mort un être innocent et sensible.
La mort est une suite nécessaire des générations de la vie. Si le papillon ne
mourait pas, s'il vivait seulement la vie d'un homme, la terre ne suffirait pas
à sa postérité ; mais il vit sans craindre la mort, et il meurt sans regretter la
vie ; il voltige çà et là sans se soucier de l'embuscade perfide de l'araignée,
ni du vol infatigable de l'hirondelle, qui l'engloutit quelquefois tout entier.
Peu lui importe pour lui-même l'avenir avec ses perspectives de terreur ou de
gloire. Il ne s'inquiète point si un naturaliste barbare le clouera tout vivant avec
une épingle sous un cristal^ où il sera rongé des mites, ou si la bonne nature,
attendant la fin de sa carrière, destinera son brillant squelette à l'immortalité,
en versant sur lui une larme d'ambre jaune. Quand les Hyades pluvieuses
ramènent les frimas ^ et les autans, il ne s'afflige point de la rapidité de ses jours ;
il confie à la nature le soin de ses enfants c£u'il ne doit jamais voir. Content
d'avoir prévu leurs premiers besoins et d'y avoir pourvu, sans s'embarrasser de
leur reconnaissance, il meurt satisfait de sa propre destinée. Que pourrait-
il désirer désormais sur la terre ? Il a vécu sur les ffeurs. et il a vu le soleil
près d'entrer dans la région des ténèbres ; il cherche un peu d'ombre au pied
delà plante qu'il a aimée, et, comme cet empereur qui voulut mouiir debout,
en empereur, se ressouvenant de sa beauté, il se pose sur ses pattes, et, les ailes
étendues, il expire en papillon. Oh ! cjue le philosophe lui-même serait sage,
si, comme le papillon, il vivait et mourait sans autre souci que de parcourir
avec la vertu la carrière que la nature lui a tracée !
Bernardin de Saixt-Pierre.
I. avec lesquelles. — 2. quand il se repose. — 3. flairer, mot très rare. — 4- pleines de
nectar. — 5. dans une vitrine. — G. quand l'automne ramhie le froid. Expressions déiuDdées,
empruntées à l'antiquité.
Une situation terrible.
Voici la scène principale d'une pièce célèbre, une des meilleures du XY1II« siècle,
et que la Comédie francise vient de reprendre avec succès.
M. Vanderk sait que son flls se bat en duel avec un officier inconnu, avec lequel il
a eu une altercation dans un café. Antoine, le vieux domestique, a été aux nouvelles ;
il a reçu l'ordre de frapper trois coups à la porte de la chambre si le fils de M. Vanderk
est tué.
M. Desp.vrville. — Monsieur, monsieur, je suis fâché de vous déranger.
8\
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
[508J
Sedaini-;
Je sais tout ce qui vous arrive. Vous mariez votre fille? Vous êtes à
l'instant ' en compagnie : mais un mot, un seul mot.
M. Vanderk. — Et moi, monsieur, je suis fâché de ne vous avoir point
donné une heure plus prompte ^ On vous a peut-être fait attendre. J'avais
dit à quatre heures et il est trois heures
seize minutes. Monsieur, asseyez-vous.
M. Desparville. — Non, parlons de-
bout. J'aurai bientôt dit. Monsieur, je
crois que le diable est après moi ^. J'ai
depuis quelques jours besoin d'argent
et encore plus depuis hier pour la cir-
constance la plus pressante et que je ne
peux pas dire. J'ai une lettre de change,
bonne, excellente : c'est, comme disent
vos marchands, c'est de l'or en barre* ;
mais elle sera payée quand? quand? Je
n'en sais rien : ils ont des usages, des
usances ^ des termes que je ne com-
prends pas. J'ai été chez plusieurs de
vos confrères ^ ; mais tous ceux que j'ai
vus jusqu'à présent sont des arabes, des
usuriers Ils m'ont demandé
des remises ' considérables parce qu'ils
voient que j'en ai besoin. D'autres m'ont
refusé tout net. Mais que je ne vous retarde point. Pouvez-vous m'avancer
le payement de ma lettre de change, ou ne le pouvez-vous pas ?
M. Vanderk. — Puis-je la voir?
M. Desparville. — La voilà. {Pendant que M. Vanderk Ut.) Je payerai
tout ce qu'il faudra. Je sais qu'il y a des droits^ Faut-il le quart? faut-il...
J'ai besoin d'argent.
M. Vanderk {sonne) . — Monsieur, je vais vous la faire payer.
M. Desparville. — A l'instant ?
M. Vanderk. — Oui, monsieur.
M. Desparville. — A l'instant ! Prenez, prenez, monsieur. Ah ! quel
service vous me rendez ! Prenez, prenez, monsieur.
M. Vanderk (aa domestique qui rentre). — Allez à ma caisse, apportez
le montant de cette lettre, deux mille quatre cents livres ^
M. Desparville. — Monsieur, au service que vous me rendez, pouvez-
vous ajouter celui de me faire donner de l'or ?
M. Vanderk. — Volontiers, monsieur. {A u domestique.) Apportez la somme
en or.
M. Desparville. — Faites retenir, monsieur, l'escompte, l'a compte'".
M. Vanderk. — Non, monsieur, je ne prends point d'escompte, ce n'est
point mon commerce " ; et je vousl'avoue avec plaisir, ce service ne me
coûte rien. Votre leltre vientde Cadix, elle est pour moi une rescription'^ :
elle devient pour moi de l'argent comptant.
M. Desparvillk. — Monsieur, monsieur, voilà de l'honnêteté : vous ne
I. maintenant. — 2. indiqué un rendez-vous plus tôt. — 3. me porirsnil. — l\, cela vaut
autant qu'un lingot d'or. — 5. Même sens qu'usages , inusité aujourd'hui. — 6. M. Van-
derk est négociant. — 7. des escomptes. — 8. des frais. — q. francs. — 10. Même sens
que : escompte. Inusité dans ce sens aujourd'hui. — n. je ne suis pas banquier. — la.
î/?i remboursement par correspondance.
[509] PARTIE FRANÇAISE
savez pas toute l'obligation que je vous dois, toute l'étendue du service
que vous me rendez.
M. Vanderk. — Je souhaite qu'il soit considérable.
M. Desparville. — Ah ! monsieur, monsieur, que vous êtes heureux !
Vous n'avez qu'une fille, vous ?
M. VA^'DERK. '■ — J'espère que j'ai un fils.
M. Desparville. — Un fils ! mais il est apparemment dans le com-
merce, dans un état '^ tranquille ; mais le mien, le mien est dans le service '^ ;
àl'instant que je vous parle, n'est-il pas occupé à se battre ?
M. Vandebk. — A se battre ?
M. Desparville. — Oui, monsieur, à se battre .... Un autre jeune
homme dans un café, un petit étourdi, lui a cherché querelle, je ne sais
pourquoi, je ne sais comment; il ne le sait pas lui-même.
M. Vandere, — Que je vous plains ! et qu'il est à craindre
M. Despara'ille. — A craindre ! je ne crains rien : mon fils est brave,
il tient de moi, et adroit, adroit : à vingt pas il couperait une balle en deux
sur une lame de couteau : mais il faut qu'il s'enfuie, c'est le diable '■> : vous
entendez bien, vous entendez bien : je me fie à vous, vous m'avez gagné
l'àme ".
M. Vanderk. — Monsieur, je suis flatté de votre... {on frappe à la porte
un coup) Je suis flatté de ce que . . . {un second coup).
M. Desparville. — Ce n'est rien, c'est qu'on frappe chez aous {un
troisième coup. M. Vanderk tombe sur un siège). Monsieur, vous ne vous
trouvez pas indisposé ?
M. Vanderk. — Ah ! monsieur, tous les pères ne sont pas malheureux.
{Ledomestique entre avec des rouleaux de louis). Voilà votre somme. Partez,
monsieur ; vous n'avez pas de temps à perdre-
M. Desparville. — Que vous m'obligez !
M. Vanderk. — Permettez-moi de ne pas vous reconduire.
M. Desparville. — Ah ! vous avez affaire '^ ! Ah ! le brave homme !
ah ! l'honnête homme ! Monsieur, mon sang est à vous ; restez, restez,
restez, je vous en prie (// sort).
M. Vanderk (seul). — Mon fils est mort. ... je l'ai vu là. ... et je ne
l'ai pas embrassé. . . . Que de peine sa naissance me préparait ! Que de
chagrin sa mère. . . *^
Sedaine. {Le philosophe sans le savoir.)
i3. métier. — i/i. le service militaire. — ib. c'est une grosse di/ficulté. — iG. cous ave: gagné
mon amitié. — 17. vous êtes occupé. — 18. Que nos lecteurs se rassurent. M. Vanderk en
est quitte pour celte horrible émotion. Le messager s'est trompé, le jeune homme n'a
pas été tué et son adversaire, le fils de M Desparville, devient son ami.
Le calme de la mer*,
Dans les eaux règne un profond
"calme,
L'Océan dort sans se mouvoir,
Et, morne, le marin contemple.
Tout autour, le vaste miroir.
De nulle part aucune brise !
Calme terrible de la mort !
Dans l'immensité monstrueuse,
Chaque vague, immobile, dort.
Goethe ,
(Traduction Pierre Halary.)
Voir la partie allemande.
86 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [510]
La mort d'un héros *.
III
Le régiment auquel on affecta Michel Lobicki, à peine arrivé à desti-
nation, fut envoyé sur le front de l'armée, et, quelques jours après, il se
trouva déjà engagé dans un combat avec l'ennemi. Ce ne fut pas un choc
d'importantes masses mihtaires, mais plutôt une petite escarmouche. La
fatalité voulut pourtant que Michel Lobicki reçût de graves blessures. Un
coup de sabre l'atteignit au visage; un projectile lui fracassa la jambe au-
dessous du genou. Il resta quatre mois à l'hôpital militaire de Kharbin,
puis, une fois guéri, on le congédia et on le renvoya dans son pays comme
impropre au service. Sa jambe droite n'existait en chair et en os que jus-
qu'au genou, le reste était du bois. Une grande cicatrice rouge descendait
de la joue gauche au menton en passant par la bouche, le défigurant com-
plètement et lui tailladant les lèvres. De plus, il lui manquait trois dents.
Ce n'était plus le jeune gars, plein de vigueur et de santé, beau comme
une statue, qui avait quitté son village huit mois auparavant. C'était
maintenant un être estropié, malingre, horrible à voir. Malgré la croix
des braves qui brillait sur sa poitrine, il ne pouvait plus guère aimer
la vie. Sainte mère de Dieu, qu'il avait souffert par tout son corps, le pau-
vre Michel ! Et que de tortures il endurait maintenant dans son âme, à la
pensée de revenir ! Comme il avait hurlé de douleur quand, après sa
guérison, il se revit pour la première fois dans un miroir! Et que de gémis-
sements lorsqu'il se vit obligé d'apprendre à marcher avec sa jambe de
bois comme un petit enfant ! que de larmes amères, larmes d'angoisse et
de désespoir il avait versées en songeant au retour ! Il était maigre comme
un mourant, pâle comme un cadavre, et triste comme une pauvre âme
damnée. Mania, Mania ! Que dirait Mania ? Et katia, et tous les autres?
Ils pleureraient avec lui, sur lui ! Grâces soient rendues au ciel, ils étaient
de bons chrétiens ! Ils ne le mépriseront pas, ne le repousseront pas, oh
non, au contraire, ils l'aimeront et le soigneront. Oui, mais Mania ?
L'aimera-t-elle encore, l'estropié, avec cette vilaine jambe de bois et cette
liorrible cicatrice ? Il avait le cœur gros, si gros, le pauvre garçon !
On savait au village que Michel Lobicki revenait blessé. Un de ses cama-
rades, qui savait écrire, avait envoyé une carte. Mais la carte ne disait pas
que les blessures étaient très graves et dans quel état se trouvait le malheu-
reux ; cela, tout le monde l'ignorait au village. Et pourtant lorsque la
carte arriva, ô grands saints du Paradis, elle suscita une révolution, une
véritable révolution. On eût dit que son Excellence le général kouropat-
kine, ce capitaine qu'on disait si célèbre, allait arriver en personne. La
belle Mania sanglotait comme une possédée, sans répit, toute la journée.
Ces méchants Japonais, ces êtres impies que le feu du ciel aurait dû
anéantir avaient blessé son Michel, son beau Michel bien-aimé. La maigre
Ratia fit alors remarquer, non sans aigreur, qu'au lieu de pleurer sur les
blessures de son fiancé, elle ferait bien mieux de jubiler comme un ange
du ciel à cause de son prochain retour, qu'elle témoignait ainsi de senti-
ments peu dignes d'une brave chrétienne, d'un amour bien superficiel —
et Mania cessa de gémir. Sur quoi, le vieux Leschko, tout content, déclara
que sa fille était une héroïne, digne d'un héros. Mais tout le monde au
village attendait le retour de Michel avec une curiosité ardente mélangée
d'anxiété et de souci.
Ce retour se fit désirer au delà des limites permises. A plusieurs
reprises, Michel dut interrompre son voyage ; il lui fallut séjourner
tantôt plus, tantôt moins longtemps, dans de petits villages de la Sibérie,
* Voir les quatre autres parties.
[311] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 87
jusqu'à ce qu'il lui fut permis de reprendre le train. Pourquoi cela ? Il ne
le sut jamais. On lui dit que c'étaient des secrets militaires. Enfin, après
un voyage atroce, il arriva à Varsovie. Là, de nouveau, trois jours d'arrêt.
En revanche, il fut présenté à son Excellence le général qui lui prodigua
des paroles élogieuses et lui donna en outre quelques belles pièces
d'or. El alors, il put continuer le voyage. Mais à la gare, il commença par
accoster un employé. Un sentiment confus d'angoisse, de honte et de
douleur le poussa à prier instamment monseigneur l'employé d'être assez
généreux et bon pour envoyer un télégramme, contre paiement, cela va
sans dire. Et c'est ainsi que Katia GaroAvicz reçut un télégramme de son
frère. Il lui indiquait l'heure de son arrivée, la priait de ne rien dire à
personne et de venir toute seule à la gare avec une petite voiture. Si tout
le village sut une demi-heure plus tard que Michel revenait, ce ne fut pas
la faute de Katia toute seule, par son âme, mais aussi celle de l'employé
de chemin de fer du village.
{A suivre.)
Friedrich Werner va>' Oestéren.
Contes de la Vieille France
m
Le paysan et l'enchanteur Merlin.
Quand il eut fait à sa corde un nœud coulant, Jean-Pierre, le pauvre
bûcheron, accrocha cette corde à une branche de chêne, assez forte pour
supporter son poids, assez haute pour que ses pieds ne touchassent |)oint
le sol. Puis, avant de passer la tête dans le nœud coulant, il s'assit près de
l'arbre, se cacha la figure dans les mains et pleura sur sa misérable desti-
née. Dans sa chaumière, il mourait de faim ; sa femme, vêtue de loques,
s'arrachait tous les jours les cheveux devant la marmite vide et la huche
sans pain ; ses enfants allaient tout nus et se nourrissaient de fruits sau-
vages. . . Chaque année les jeûnes étaient plus longs ; chaque année la vie
devenait plus dure. . ?se valait-il pas mieux en finir immédiatement ? Et
Jean-Pierre, sanglotant mais farouche, se releva brusquement et saisit la
corde.
Mais une voix grave et douce s'éleva dans la forêt ; à celte voix, les
feuilles ne bruirent plus, les oiseaux ne chantèrent plus et le désespéré
demeura immobile, la main sur le nœud coulant et les yeux écarquillés
par la surprise.
— Malheureux ! dit la voix, lu me fais pitié. Que souhaites-tu ? parle.
Je suis l'enchanteur Merlin et j'accomplirai tes désjrs.
Alors Jean-Pierre tomba à genoux et, le cœur gonflé de joie, la parole
entrecoupée, il balbutia :
— Que monseigneur Merlin m'accorde seulement du pain pour ma
femme et mes enfants, et je n'aurai pas assez de toute mon existence pour
le bénir.
— Retourne chez toi, répondit la voix ; vous aurez tous du pain et même
du beurre et du lard. Ta gratitude me fait plaisir. Je te permets de revenir
ici une fois par an, si tu as besoin de moi.
Jean-Pierre tendit des mains tremblantes d'émotion vers son invisible
sauveur, se releva, car il était resté agenouillé, et partit en courant, éperdu,
affolé, suiîoqué par le bonheur.
Un an après, Jean-Pierre était au même endroit; cette fois il avait les
* Voir les n"* 5 et 8.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE [512]
joues moins creuses el des babils confortables. Cependant son air était
soucieux.
— Monseigneur Merlin ! appela-t-il. un peu timidement.
— Que veux- tu ? répondit Merlin.
— Combien je serais beureux si j'étais propriétaire ! si je possédais une
terre pour la léguer à mes enfants ! si j'babitais une maison et non une
tanière ! Est-ce trop vous demander ?
— Ce n'est pas trop. Va, tu auras ce que tu veux.
— Que vous êtes bon, monseigneur Merlin ! . . . Et Jean-Pierre s'en
retourna, l'œil bumide d'attendrissement.
Un an après, Jean-Pierre était là : mais quelle transformation ! Il était
gros et gras, de mine fière. Il appela vigoureusement :
— Monsieur Merlin !
— Qu'y a-t-il ? lui fut-il répondu.
— Je voudrais être, moi aussi, un seigneur, avoir un château, des
chevaux caparaçonnés, de l'or et des écuyers. Pourquoi n'aurais-je pas moi
aussi ma part des plaisirs de ce monde ?
— Va, tu seras châtelain, puisque tu le désires.
— Merci, monsieur Merlin.
Un an après, il était encore là, mais monté sur un grand cheval et la
tête couverte d'un casque empanaché. Il cria :
— Merlin !
— Qu'y a-t-il?
— Mes voisins, le comte et le baron, me gênent.
11 me faut leurs domaines pour arrondir le mien. Et puis leur orgueil
mérite une punition : ils ne m'invitent pas en effet à leurs fêtes et leurs
femmes ont de plus beaux bijoux que la mienne.
— Tu auras ces deux domaines.
— Bien ! dit Jean-Pierre.
Là-dessus il tourna bride et rejoignit son escorte qui l'altendait à la
lisière du bois.
Un an après, il était toujours là, en un magnifique équipage, entouré
d'hommes d'armes et de bannières déployées, précédé de trompettes à
cheval et de hérauts splendides.
— Holà !
— Qu'y a-t-il ?
— Je veux être le roi, avoir pour me servir des marquis et des ducs. Je
veux qu'on tremble devant moi et que les peuples se prosternent sur mon
passage. Mais je suis pressé. Dépêche-toi. Je neveux pas attendre.
Alors la voix gronda dans la forêt, non plus grave et douce mais ton-
nante et formidable.
— Ingrat ! mauvais cœur ! J'ai satisfait à toutes tes demandes, bien
qu'elles fussent chaque année plus folles. J'ai eu trop d'indulgence pour
toi et tu en as été de moins en moins digne. D'abord j'ai été pour toi
«monseigneur Merlin», puis « monsieur Merlin », puis « Merlin » tout
court : à la fin tu oses me tutoyer ! D'abord, c'est à genoux que tu m'as
remercié ; puis tu ne m'as plus remercié du tout. Après avoir été trop
humble, tu deviens insolent. Je te retire ce que tu as reçu de moi.
Tout disparut, hommes d'armes et bannières, hérauts et trompettes.
Jean-Pierre se retrouva auprès du chêne, pieds nus, vêtu de haillons, el. en
levant les yeux, il aperçut le nœud coulant qui se balançait en attendant
son cou. Cependant il ne se pendit pas. Il haussa les épaules furieuse-
ment, cracha par lerre en signe de mépris, tendit dans la direction de la
voix miraculeuse un poing menaçant et, presque étranglé par la rage, il
rugit à l'adresse de son bienfaiteur :
— Canaille !
Max Jasiinsri.
Les Cinq Langues
N« 12. 20 Mars 19C8. 8" Année.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
Bourgeoise et marquise.
On verra, par ces peliles scènes plaisantes, le nnépris que les nobles avaient au
wu'î siècle pour les bourgeois : cela a bien changé depuis ; on y verra aussi la vanité
qui poussait trop souAent les bourgeois à faire des sottises : de ce côté, le changement
est moins sensible.
Scène I.
[Madame Patin entre précipitamment, suivie de sa servante Lisette.)
Lisette. — Qu'est-ce donc, madame ') qu'avez-vous ? que vous esl-il arrivé?
que vous a-t-on fait ?
i\|me Patin. — Une avanie, .ah ! j'étoufTe. Une avanie. . . je ne saurais par-
ler. Un siège '.
Lisette (lui donnant un siège). — Une avanie ! à vous, madame ? une avanie !
cela esl-il possible ?
;\|me Patin. — Cela n'est que trop vrai, ma pauvre Lisette : j'en mourrai.
Quelle violence ! en pleine rue on vient de me manquer de respect.
Lisette. — Comment donc, madame, manquer de respect à une dame
comme vous ? Madame Patin, la veuve d'un honnête partisan -, qui a gagné
deux millions de bien ^ au service du roi ! Et qui sont ces insolents-là, s'il
vous plaît ?
^jme Patin. — Une marqviise de je ne sais comment^ qui a eu l'audace de
faire prendre le haut du pavé à son carrosse et qui a fait reculer le mien de
plus de vingt pas.
Lisette. — Voilà une marquise bien impertinente. Quoi ! votre personne
qui est toute de clinquant-', votre grand carrosse doré qui roule pour la pre-
mière fois, deux gros chevaux gris-pommelés à longue queue, un cocher à
barbe retroussée, six grands laquais, plus chamarrés de galons que les estafiers
d'un carrousel ^, tout cela n'a point inspiré de respect à votre marquise ?
]\][me Patin. — Point du tout : c'est du fond d'un vieux carrosse, traîné par
deux chevaux étiques, que cette gueuse de marquise m'a fait insulter par des
laquais tout déguenillés.
Lisette. — Ah ! mort de ma vie ", où était Lisette ? Que je lui aurais bien
dit son fait * !
]\lmo Patin. — Je l'ai pris sur un ton proportionné à mon équipage ; mais
elle, avec un « laisez-vous, bourgeoise », m'a pensé faire tomber de mon
haut 3.
Lisette. — Bourgeoise! bourgeoise! dans un carrosse de velours cramoisi à
six poils '0, entouré d'une crépine d'or !
I. donnez-moi un siège. — a. financier. Inusité aujourd'hui dans ce sens. — 3. de
fortune. — k. dont j'ignore le nom. Expression vulgaire : M°"' Patin est une personne peu
instruite et mal élevée. — 5. brilllanle de bijoux. — 6. les valets dans les divertissements
équestres : ces carrousels étaient à la mode au xvu'^ siècle. — 7. Juron fréquent au xvu'
siècle parmi les gens du peuple. — 8. dit ses vérités. — 9. me faire tomber ma fierté. —
10. rfe très bonne qualité.
[70J FRA>Ç. 12
90 PARTIE FRANgAlSE [554]
M"" Pati>. — Je l'avoue qu'à celte injure assommanle" je n'ai pas eu la
force de répondre ; j'ai dit à mon cocher de tourner et de m'aniener ici à
foute bride '^.
Scène II.
[Labrie, laquais de W""= Patia, entre, les vêlements déchirés.)
Lisette. — Ah I vraiment voilà un de vos laciuais en bel équipage ! Vous
moquez-vous, I^abrie ? Comment paraissez-vous devant madame ? Quel désor-
dre est-ce là ? Dirait-on que vous avez mis aujourd'hui un habit neuf?
Labhie. — Les autres sont plus chiffonnés cjue moi, et je venais dire à
madame cjue Lafleur et Jasmin ont la tète cassée par les gens '^ de cette mar-
quise, et qu'il n'a tenu qu'à moi'* de l'avoir aussi.
Lisette. — Et cjue ne disiez-vous à qui vous étiez '•' ?
Labrie. — Nous l'avons dit aussi.
^jme Patin. — Eh bien ?
Labrie. — Eh bien ! madame, je crois que c'est à cause de cela qu'ils nous
ont battus.
Lisette. — Les lourdauds !
j\I[ne Patin. — Va-l'en dehors, mon enfant.
Labrie. — Mais Lafleur et Jasmin sont chez le chirurgien.
^jme Patin. — Eh bien ! cju'ils se fassent panser, et qu'on ne m'en rompe
pas la tète "^ davantage. (Labrie s'en va.)
Scène IIL
Lisette. — Au moins, madame, il faut prendre celte atîaire-ci du bon côté.
Ce n'est pas à votre per.sonne qu'ils ont fait insulte, c'est à votre nom. Que
ne vous dépêchez -vous d'en changer?
]\|me Patin. — J'y suis bien résolue ; et j'enrage contre ma destinée de ne
m'avoir pas faite tout d'abord une femme de qualité'".
Lisette. — Eh! vous n'avez pas tout à fait sujet de vous plaindre; et si
vous n'êtes pas encore femme de qualité, vous êtes riche au moins et, comme
vous savez, on achète facilement de la qualité ** avec de l'argent ; mais la nais-
sance ne donne pas toujours du bien '^.
]yime Patin. — Il n'importe ; c'est toujours quelque chose de bien charmant
cju'un grand nom.
Lisette. — Bon, bon ! madame, vous seriez, ma foi, bien embarrassée si
A'ous vous trouviez comme certaines grandes dames de par le monde "-'^, à qui tout
manque, et qui, malgré leur grand nom, ne sont connues que par un grand
nombre de créanciers, qui crient à leurs ijortes depuis le matin jusqu'au soir.
]\lme Païin. — C'est là le bon air-', c'est ce qui distingue les gens de qualité.
Lisette. — Ma foi, madame, avanie pour avanie, il vaut mieux, à ce qu'il
me semble, en recevoir d'une marquise que d'un marchand ; et, croyez moi,
c'est un grand plaisir que de pouvoir sortir de chez soi par la grande porte,
sans craindre qu'une troupe de sergents " viennent sortir le carrosse et les
chevaux. Que diriez-vous si vous vous trouviez réduite à gagner à pied voire
logis, comme quelques-unes à qui cela est arrivé depuis pevi ?
j^jme Patin. — Plût au ciel que cela me fût arrivé et que je fusse marquise !
Lisette. — Mais, madame, vous n'y songez pas.
]\lme Patin. — Oui, oui, j'aimerais mieux être la marquise la plus endettée
de toute la cour, que de demeurer veuve du plus riche financier de France.
La résolution en est prise, il faut que je devienne marquise, quoi qu'il en
coûte ; et, pour cet effet ^^, je vais absolument rompre avec ces petites gens
dont je me suis encanaillée : commençons par M. Serrefort.
II qui m'a assommée, sens étymologique. — 12, très vite. — i3. tes domestiques . — i^.
si je m'étais laissé faire. — i5 qiieJI- était votre maitresae. — 16. qu'on ne m'ennuie pas.
— 17. une femme noble. — 18. de la noblesse. — 19. de la fortune. — 20. dans le monde. —
21. la grande mode. Sens vieilli. — 22. d'huissiers. — 28. pour cela.
[555]
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
91
Lisette. — M. Serrefort, madame! votre beau-frère !
lyime Patin. — Mon bea a-frère ! mon beau frère ! Parlez mieux;, s'il vous
plaît.
Lisette. — Pardonnez-moi, madame ; j'ai cru ([ii'il était votre beau-frère
parce qu'il était frère de feu monsieur votre mari.
^|me Patin. — Frère de feu mon mari, soit ; mais, mon mari étant mort,
Dieu merci, M. Serrefort ne m'est plus rien-*. Cependant il semble à cet homme-
là qu'il me soit de quelque chose -^ ; il se mêle de censurer ma conduite, de
contrôler toutes mes actions. Son audace va jusqu'à vouloir me faire prendre
de petites manières comme celles de sa femme, et faire des comparaisons d'elle
à moi. Mais est-il possible qu'il y ait des gens qui puissent se méconnaître
jusqu'à ce point-là '•)
Lisette. — Oui, oui, je commence à comprendre qu'il a tort et que vous
avez raison, vous. C'est bien à lui et à sa femme à faire des comparaisons avec
vous-^. Il n'est que votre beau-frère et elle n'est que votre belle-sœur, une
fois ^' .
\jme Païin. — Il n'y a pas jusqu'à sa fille qui ne se donne aussi des airs -^
Allons-nous en carrosse ensemble, elle se place dans le fond -^ à mes côtés.
Sommes-nous à pied, elle marche toujours sur la même ligne, sans observer
aucune distance entre elle et moi.
Lisette. — La petite ridicule ! une nièce vouloir aller de pair avec sa tante !
]\|me Patin. — Ce qui me déplaît encore, c'est qu'avec ses minauderies elle
attire les yeux de tout le monde et ne laisse point aller sur moi le moindre
regard.
Lisette. — Quele monde est fou ! Parce qu'elle est jeune et jolie, on la regarde
plus volontiers que vous.
^Ime Patin. — Cela changera, ou je ne la verrai plus.
Dancourt (1661-1725).
2/1. n'est plus mon parent. — a5. cet homme se croit encore mon parent. — 26. à .se
comparer avec cous. — 27. après tout. Inusité aujourd'hui. — 38. qui ait de la fierté. —
29. Sur la banquette de derrière (place d'iioiineur).
Le Dôme*.
C'est la nuit aux. morts consacrée
Dans l'église paroissiale,
Rompant leur repos funéraire
Aux tintements sourds de la cloche,
Les ensevelis anciens sortent.
Sortent des monuments de pierre
Et des sarcophages de marbre ;
En foule ils surgissent des dalles,
Des chapelles et de la chaire.
Et de l'autel et de l'abside ;
Et les blêmes squelettes grimpent.
En un bourdonnement de ruche,
Par les piliers, i^ar les pilastres.
Les chapiteaux, les galeries,
Jusqu'aux arcades, jusqu'aux voûtes,
Volent, en essaim, des corniches
* Voirie texte dans la partie italienne.
Vers la coupole taciturne
Où, formant de ténébreux groupes,
Pendant un instant ils s'arrêtent.
Se montrent aux vitres laiteuses,
Et se hissent dans la lanterne
Surmontant le Dôme. — Une vitre
Est brisée. . . Alors, pêle-mêle
Et sans bruit, quelques-uns s'échap -
[peu t.
Et, derrière eux, se précipite.
Avide d'air libre, la foule. . .
Certains n'osent, mais s'enhardissent ,
Et tous ont franchi l'ouverture.
(A suivre.)
Giulio Orsini.
(Domenico Gnoli.)
Trad. Pierre Halary (Du Vallon au
Sommet. Paris, xVlphonse Lemerre,
1908}.
92 PAKTIK FRANÇAISE [556]
La mort d'un héros
IV
Presque tous ceux qui avaient assisté au départ de Michel Lobicki
étaient là pour son retour. Il est impossible de décrire l'agitation, la
curiosité anxieuse avec laquelle on attendait le jeune héros qui avait
répandu pour la patrie son sang généreux et vermeil. Katia, dans son
trouble, avait même oublié la petite voiture demandée et était accourue
à pied. Seul, Jean Leschko avec sa jolie fdle était venu dans son élégant
panier jaune aux coussins bourrés de foin et recouverts de cuir. Mania
tremblait de tout son corps ; par instant, elle était aussi pâle, bon Jésus,
aussi pâle qu'une figure de cire, pour devenir, l'instant d'après, aussi
rouge que si elle avait été empourprée par le sang que Michel avait
répandu. A vrai dire, le vieux Leschko n'était guère moins ému, mais
jamais, au grand jamais. Dieu l'en garde, il n'aurait voulu le montrer. Il
sut, à la perfection, prendre un air tout à fait calme, parlant aussi peu
que possible, n'enlevant pas sa pipe d'entre ses dents et s'entourant
d'épais nuages de fumée. Kasper Garowicz imita Jean, cela lui plaisait du
reste à merveille II était tellement sot qu'il ne pouvait jamais ouvrir la
bouche sans se faire rabrouer par Katia. Mais, en revanche, tous les autres
parlaient, tous ceux qui attendaient là, oisifs et curieux, et d'autant plus
que les proches de Michel faisaient plus d'efforts pour se taire. Par ins-
tant, le tumulte était si grand, que l'employé de chemin de fer les priait
d'un ton à la fois poli et sévère de « fermer leurs boîtes ».
Enfin, le train apparut. Lentement, très lentement, il s'avançait et le
sol trembla. Mais Mania trembla plus violemment encore. De tout son
poids, elle s'appuya contre son père pour ne pas s'affaisser. Un coup de
sifflet prolongé, et les roues s'arrêtèrent. Toute la troupe des curieux se mit
alors à hurler — non, jamais encore on n'avait entendu de tels cris. Le
nom du voyageur était répété sans trêve, entremêlé d'exclamations.
« Hurrah ! — Vive Michel ! — Qu'il soit le bienvenu ! — Que la sainte
mère de Dieu le bénisse ! ^ Vive le héros ! »
(A suivre.) Friedrich Werner van Oestéren.
' Voir les quatre autres parties.
Chemineau.
{Réciid'un père à son petit garçon.)
— Je vais te conter aujourd'hui Ihistoire de mon chat.
— De quel chat ?
— Du seul de mes chats qui fut malheureux, les autres n'ont point
d'histoire. Je l'appelais " Chemineau " et tu verras que je ne l'avais pas
[357] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 93
mal baplisé '. 11 faut d'abord que tu saches qu'uQ chemineau est ua vaga-
bond, un homme qui voyage, qui n'a pas de maison où il veuille rester
plus dun jour ou plus d'une nuit, qui vit du hasard des rencontres ^, tra-
vaille peu et s'arrange pour résister au cruel hiver et jouir comme un roi
du brillant soleil quand vient l'été.
— Alors ton chat était un vagabond ?
— Il le devint s'il ne l'était déjà quand je l'eus. D'ailleurs cela ne m'é-
lonnerait pas qu'il fût né sur les routes. Je le trouvai un jour sur le seuil
de ma porte. H n'était pas trop mal ^ vêtu d'une peau tigrée comme beau-
coup de ses pareils, mais la couleur de ce vêtement était assez rare pour
avantager celui qui le portait.
— S'il avait couché sur la route il ne devait pas être propre.
— Eh ! justement; il l'était, heureusement pour lui. C'est ce qui lui
valut d'être bien accueilli. Car il en est des bêtes comme des gens; il est
avantageux d'être proprement tenu * quand on se présente quelque part.
Peut-être '' Chemineau " avait-il eu le temps de faire sa toilette, peut-
être s'était-il arrêté aux portes de la ville, ou peut-être, plus simplement,
sortait-il du grenier à foin où son poil s'était lustré. Mais de quelque
endroit qu'il vînt il était manifeste qu'il n'avait pas déjeuné. Il faisait
entendre un petit cri assez comparable h une musique dun sou qu'on
achète à la foire.
— Ah ! oui, je sais, avec un ballon rouge, on souffle, et puis ça gonfle,
mais des fois ° on souffle trop fort et puis ça crève !
— C'est ça même. Mais " Chemineau " ne soufflait pas trop fort ; sa
petite musique était faible, et il serait sans doute crevé tout de même si
je ne l'avais secouru.
— Tu comprends donc le langage des chats, toi ?
— Oui, et toi aussi, sans t'en douter, car les animaux ne disent pas de
vaines paroles, et si on ne peut pas toujours donner un sens à celles des
hommes, on peut toujours comprendre la voix des bêtes. Donc, Chemineau
déjeuna, de bon appétit, d'une croûte de pain ramollie dans une tasse de
lait tiède. Et quand il eut fini il s'assit sur son derrière, ramena sa longue
queue par devant ainsi que font les dames avec leurs robes, puis ayant
passé trois ou quatre fois sa langue sur ses moustaches et léché son plas-
tron, il me regarda de ses petits yeux japonais qui louchaient un peu et
me dit merci à sa manière.
— Ah ! bien, s'il louchait, il n'était pas beau ton Cliemineau.
— Tu te trompes. Sa robe, tigrée comme je te l'ai dit, était en outre
d'une teinte vaguement chamois et gris-souris qui absorbait les rayures,
de sorte que le dessin n'en était pas très apparent. On voit bien cela chez
les tout jeunes clials, mais chez les adultes c'est une particularité assez
rare.
— Qu'est-ce que c'est un adulte ?
— Un chat adulte est un chat qui ne grandit plus, qui est devenu un
homme, tu comprends ? Donc " Chemineau " portait un vêtement de cou-
leur rare qui lui donnait l'apparence de l'enfance, mais il avait la figure
grave et triste d'un lion du désert. Ah ! si tu avais vu son regard bigle «,
tu ne dirais pas que " Chemineau " n'était pas beau, car ce regard était
1. nommé. — 2. de ce qu'il rencontre par hasard. — 3. assez bien. Expression fami-
lière. — 4. habillé. — 5. parfois. Expression familière. — 6. louche.
9Ï PARTIE FRANÇAISE [558]
d'un lion ; s'il louchait, c'est que les objets qui frappaient sa vue étaient
trop petits ou trop près de son œil.
— Oui, oui, comme quand on a un tlocon de suie sur le nez.
— " Ghemineau " n'était pas joueur comme beaucoup de chats. Il pas-
sait son temps à guetter les oiseaux qui venaient manger les miettes semées
dans la cour à leur intention et, dès qu'on secouait la nappe, il courait
se blottir sous les caisses à fleurs ou dans les bosquets de fusains. Mais je
l'y allais prendre et le ramenais derrière le vitrage de la salle à manger
d'oii il pouvait voir descendre les petites bestioles des murs et des toits
voisins et assister à leur repas.
Mais ce spectacle n'était pas du goût de " Ghemineau ", et dans ces
moments-là, je te l'accorde, il n'était pas beau à voir car il grimaçait
vilainement et courait d'une vitre à l'autre avec l'espoir de trouver quel-
que issue pour fondre sur ' les pauvres oiseaux. Ah ! le vilain chat, bien
nourri de viande, de lait et de biscuit, plus gâté qu'un enfant de pauvre
bien sûr ! ventru comme un lapin à la veille de Pâques, et qui avait le
front ^ de montrer les dents à de petits misérables sans abri ! Tu penses
bien que je lui faisais honte de sa conduite ! Je lui racontais comment les
lions, auxquels il ressemblait, vivaient autrefois, libres et doux, dans les
palais de Garthage et ne se retournaient pas sur les gazelles qui folâtraient
sur les pelouses ; je lui disais comment d'autres lions, dont lui " Ghemi-
neau " avait la figure noble, liraient le char de Marc-Antoine dans les rues
de Rome, sans renifler aux croupes des cavales ramenées de la Thrace ;
mais " Ghemineau "était réfractaire à l'histoire des hommes illustres et
des cités ruinées, et il ne répondait à mes leçons que par un petit crisse-
ment douloureux dont j'avais pitié — dont j'avais pitié parce que " Ghe-
mineau " était une bonne nature de chat. Ce n'était pas sa faute, à lui, si
lui et ses ancêtres, au lieu de chercher la gloire et les honneurs, avaient
croupi dans le cannibalisme.
— Qu'est-ce que c'est que le cannibalisme ?
— G'est l'état de ceux qui mangent leurs semblables.
— Ça n'est pas bon.
— Je ne sais pas si c'est bon, mais ça n'est pas beau. Et pourtant " Ghe-
mineau " gardait du goût pour le sang et pour la chair vive. Un jour que
je me promenais avec mes parents dans une garenne qui avoisinait la mer,
il se sauva de la voiture et poursuivit un lapin jusque dans son terrier.
Pauvre "Ghemineau " ! 11 était retourné à la vie sauvage de ses premiers
parents ^ tout d'un coup, comme un enfant qui sortirait du jardin de son
père pour suivre un papillon sur la route pleine de soleil et ne retrouve-
rait plus jamais sa maison En rentrant sans lui, je pleurais beaucoup,
car je n'étais alors qu'un petit garçon, comme toi, cl je ne savais pas que
la vie nous réserve d'autres chagrins plus réels. La tête sur mon oreiller
baigné de larmes, je voyais mon chat endormi sous une touffe de genêts
et digérant le grand festin qu'il avait si longtemps rêvé de faire. Et je
me disais : « Tout à l'heure, quand il se réveillera, il aura soif d'avoir
mangé tant de poil. Gar Gatherine, notre cuisinière, n'était pas là pour
lui écorcher et lui fricasser son lapin avec une bonne sauce. Et il
cherchera autour de lui la tasse de lait qu'il ne trouvera pas. Alors il pleu-
rera, lui aussi, mais pas très fort, car il aura peur des grosses voix qu'on
7. se jeter sur. — 8. l'audace. — 9. ancHres
[559] PAHTIE FRANÇAISE 95
entend la nuit dans la campagne : celles des grands loups libres, des gros
chiens attachés dans les cours des fermes et des vilaines bêtes que les
paysans clouent par les pattes sur les portes des granges. »
— Ah ! pauvre " Chemineau '' !
— Bien sûr, pauvre " Chemineau " I
— Et tu n'es jamais retourné dans la garenne pour le chercher?
— Mais oui, plus de dix fois, les jeudis et les dimanches, tu comprends,
parce que, les autres jours, il fallait bien aller à l'école. Et puis c'était loin
de la maison, et puis l'hiver était venu, l'hiver fatal aux chemineaux. Au
printemps suivant, il faisait même encore bien froid, je rencontrai la
petite-fdle du garde-chasse dont la maison est bâtie sur le pont de la
rivière. Elle avait au cou une belle fourrure, et elle disait avec fierté que
c'était une loutre que son père avait tuée au bord de l'eau. Mais j'avais
reconu mon pauvre " Chemineau " à sa robe tigrée dont les rayures ne se
voyaient presque plus, décolorée qu'elle était comme les cheveux des
petits enfants qui jouent sous la pluie et sous le soleil.
— Alors ?
— Alors, au lieu de l'embrasser, je la mordis un bon coup. Et la jDetite
se mit à pleurer, un peu parce que je lui avais fait mal, tu penses bien,
et beaucoup parce que je lui dis que son père était un assassin et qu'il
périrait sur l'échafaud.
— Ah ! bien oui, on ne guillotine plus.
— Heureusement pour lui, va ! '°.
Henri Caudevelle.
10. Ce charmant récit, œu^re d"iin ami, a paru en janvier dans le Cicérone, journal
littéraire de Boulogne-sur-Mer-
Double aventure.
Il y a quelques jours, raconte notre confrère Très Curieux, dans un
salon, une vieille dame racontait une aventure terrifiante et singulière.
M"ie X... avait dîné en ville. Elle quitte à minuit ses hôtes. On va lui
chercher une voiture. Pour rentrer chez elle, elle traverse la cour du Car-
rousel, déserte et glacée. Tout d'un coup, le cocher tourne le long de la
grille du square, arrête son cheval, et dit tranquillement à la vieille dame
ahurie :
« Si vous le voulez bien, nous allons faire une petite partie de cartes. »
A demi-morte de peur, la voyageuse essaye de laisonner. Peine perdue,
le cocher tient à son idée. 11 s'installe, tire des cartes crasseuses, les étale
sur sa houppelande tendue sur ses genoux. Le genre de jeu lui est égal.
Madame ne sait pas le piquet ? Pas le bésigue :' Pas Iccarté ? Pas la manille
k deux ? La bataille, peut-être' ?...Oui P eh bien ! soit, la bataille.
Et, bon gré, mal gré, les mains tremblantes, claquant des dents, aux
tempes la sueur froide, la vieille dame joua sa partie de bataille.
Après quoi l'automédon - remonta sur le siège et la conduisit, sans autre
i. noms de divers jeux de cartes. — 2. le cocher.
96 PARTIE FKANÇAISE [560J
incident, à son domicile. Elle était si troublée qu'elle ne pensa même pas à
prendre son numéro^.
Parmi les personnes qui écoutaient ce dramatique récit, se trouvait la
jeune femme d'un journaliste absent de Paris en ce moment. Le soir du
même jour, elle-même dînait en ville, près des boulevards. Après dîner,
on fait de la musique, on s'attarde, si bien que c'est à minuit passé qu'on
xa. lui chercher une voiture pour rentrer rue des Saints-Pères, où elle liabite.
La cour du Carrousel est déserte et glacée. Tout dun coup, le cocher
arrête* le long de la grille du square, descend de son siège, ouvre la
portière...
Alors, la jeune femme éperdue :
« Donnez vite les cartes, cocher! je joue très bien au piquet. Je serais
enchantée de faire une partie avec vous ! Je me disais même : comme il
larde à faire une partie de cartes ! »
Le cocher referme la portière, remonte sur son siège, fouette ses chevaux,
arrive au commissariat, dégringole % réveille le brigadier et lui dit :
« Place du Carrousel, j'ai voulu réparer un petit accident à mon trait*"',
et prévenir la dame de ne pas s'inquiéter. Eh bien ! elle était devenue folle !
Elle voulait absolument faire une partie de cartes avec moi ! »
3. A Paris chaque flacre a un numéro. — 4. arrête sa voitnre. — 5. descend rapi-
dement du siège. — 6. Partie du harnais du cheval.
Un mot de Rossini.
Une admiratrice de Sainl-Saëns vient de lui élever une statue à Dieppe.
L'illustre maître a donc, de son vivant, son image sur une place publique.
Pareille chose arriva jadis à Voltaire. Pareille chose faillit arrivera Rossini.
A'ers i86o, les habitants de Pesaro conçurent l'idée de dresser la statue
du maître sur la place de la commune où se tenait le marché. En infor-
mant de ce i^rojet leur illustre compatriote, ces braves gens lui disaient
combien les habitants de la campagne seraient heureux de contempler ses
traits, en venant chaque semaine vendre à la ville leurs œufs et leurs
volailles.
— Donnez-moi plutôt — répondit, moitié sérieux, moitié riant, le
« cygne de Pesaro » — la somme que vous voulez consacrer à mon monu-
ment et je m'engage à aller tous les jours de marché me montrer aux pay-
sans en chair et en os.
Les gens de Pesaro, vexés, n'acceptèrent pas la proposition ; et Rossini
ne fut pas statufié de son vivant. . .
Les Cinq Langues
No 13. 5 Avril 1908. ge Année.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
Carducci*.
Le i5 mars a eu lieu à Paris, au Collège de France, en l'honneur de Carducci, une
cérémonie commémorative organisée par l'Union des sociétés latines.
M. Beauquier présidait, assisté du comte Tornielli, ambassadeur d'Italie; de
MM. Emile Loubet, Henri Barboux, Anatole France, G. Levasseur, Alfred Mézières,
Jules Bois, Lozé, etc.
M. Jules Bois, un des orateurs, a résumé ainsi pour le journal Le Malin l'influence
italienne et mondiale de Carducci.
Giosué Carducci, dont le buste a été couronné hier au Collège de France,
devant une salle enthousiaste, est le plus grand des poètes italiens modernes.
11 faut remonter jusqu'à Dante pour lui trouver un égal. Sa popularité au
delà des Alpes dépasse celle de Victor Hugo chez nous. En effet, les artistes et
les professeurs, les grands et les humbles, ont pour lui la même vénération.
Il incarne, quoique mort, la patrie nouvelle ; il souffrit et combattit pour la
jeune Italie; afin de l'entraîner, il lui chanta notre C'a ira. Son Hymne à Satan,
c'est-à-dire à la raison, à la matière, à la vie, causa un scandale qui n'est pas
encore apaisé. Dans la langue la plus forte et la plus pure, il a expiimé les
idées sommeillant au cerveau du peuple qui, muet, travaille, souffre, produit
et sait aimer.
En vain, on chercherait dans son œuvre la trace d'une mollesse, d'une per-
versité, d'une déchéance. Jamais ce robuste ne fut un malsain. S'il a chanté,
pour se reposer des luttes politiques et des flèvres de la pensée, « la blanche
Lydia, fleur de l'âme, fleur du désir, naviguant sur le fleuve calme, avec le
tendre amour, au soleil couchant », c'est que l'ivresse des cœurs et des lèvres,
quand la poétise l'enthousiasme intérieur, est encore une vertu.
Il était tendre et farouche. Jeune étudiant, il se promenait solitaire, tenant
en laisse un loup apprivoisé. Mais il n'est vraie douceur que d'homme fort. Ce
démocrate, ce républicain, consacra un de ses plus exquis poèmes à une reine.
Il ignorait les basses superstitions du fanatisme et il saluait, même sur le
trône, la bonté et la beauté. 11 avait la foi, la foi laïque, la foi humaine. Il
crut en la vie, en la joie ; il crut surtout en cette influence dynamique, explo-
sive de la pensée, en << la force vengeresse de la raison ».
La puissance de la vérité et de la sincérité est telle qu'aujourd'hui les anciens
adversaires de Carducci lui Iressent eux aussi des couronnes. C'est que, glori-
flcateur de la démocratie, il n'en fut jamais le courtisan ; amoureux de la vie,
il n'en voulut cueillir que les fruits les plus nobles; enthousiasle de la liberté,
il lui imposa de plus hauts devoirs ; prophète de l'humanité, il ne fut pas dupe
des niaiseries qu'on débile en son nom.
Au milieu du bêlement universel des lâches et des mous, il protesta contre
le pacifisme. Sa voix rude et sauvage chanta en un hymne de circonstance la
• Voir la traduction dans la partie italienne.
[76] FRANC. \3
93
PARTIK FRANC^AISE
[602]
lutte qui virilise, l'iiéroïsme qui n'admet point que la paix s'achète aux dépens
de l'honneur.
En esthétique aussi, il fut un mâle, un vaillant, un lahorieux. 11 haïssait
cette poésie moderne dont les flancs stériles ne tressaillent plus : strophes
amorphes, vers désarticulés, relâchement de la forme qui correspond au relâ-
chement de l'âme. 11 a resserré la ceinture dénouée du lyrisme italien. Il a
retrouvé les rythmes antiques et il en a fait la cuirasse des idées modernes.
Carducci a été le prophète de 1' « Homme » et voilà pourquoi les obsèques de
ce professeur à l'université de Bologne ont été appelées : a Les funérailles d'un
dieu » .
.Iules BOIS.
(Le Matin du i6 mars 1908.)
Le Japon et les fleurs.
L'un des caractères dislinctifs de la race japonaise, c'est l'amour de la fleur,
et, en vérité, la vie sans les fleurs ne serait, pour la plupart des .Taponais, que
marasme ' et monotonie. La
nature ne devait pas l'igno-
rer, puisqu'elle a paré lile
lointaine d'une joaillerie fleu-
rie - cjui enchante, d'un bout
de l'année à l'autre, les cœurs
indigènes. En de certaines
saisons où elle est particuliè-
rement prodigue , l'enthou-
.siasme populaire, qui en -
ferme volontiers au creux des
corolles un lutin ou une fée,
parait s'exalter jusqu'au dé-
lire. Mais si pauvre et si
morose que soit l'heure ^, le
regard du voyageur fatigué
tombe toujours sur quelque
fleurette qui égaie la roule, sur quelque site qui délasse et apaise.
Le culte d'un Japonais pour les fleurs, surtout pour les premières de cha-
que espèce, a quelque chose de grave et de solennel. Son admiration est
une qualité active ^ ; elle est née presque toujours d'un commerce allenlif
et prolongé, non pas d'une impression passagère au contact du beau. Demandez
à un enfant japonais qui regarde une ileur délicate de vous dire ce qu'il voit :
il est très probable c[ue, s'il est intelligent, l'enfant n'indiquera pas sèche
menl l'espèce et la couleur, mais qu'il fera des détails une description très
nette.
Pendant toute une période de l'année, au Japon, le chemin des jours ■' sem-
ble jonché de corolles éclatantes et variées. Le goût des fleurs a si bien péné-
tré la trame journalière de l'existence japonaise qu'un attribut lloral caracté-
rise la plupart des actes sociaux, fêles, réunions de thé '•, cérémonies et même
certains événements parmi les plus ordinaires de la vie courante. . . Et quelle
diversité dans les tons et dans les parfums de toutes ces lleurs ! Changeant sans
I. sombre tristesse. — '2. de /leurs l)rillanies et variées comme des bijoux. — 3 Je
moment. — l^ qui fnii agir. — b. lasitile des /ou/'s, comme un chemin. — 6. où Von boit
du the.
[603J PARTIE FHANÇAI.SE 99
cesse avec le coui's des saisons, tantôt elles présentent une gamme de teintes
foncées, tantôt elles flamboient d'une splendeur sans égale.
L'un des ouvrages qui lait de la guerre contre la Russie une peinture des
plus vivantes nous conte une belle anecdote où éclate cette passion de la race
japonaise pour les fleurs.
Un bataillon japonais, emporté dans un élan farouche, montait à l'assaut
des collines qui entourent Port-Arthur. L'ennemi avait découvert cette mar-
che en avant, car les gros canons de la citadelle lançaient une pluie d'obus
sur la partie de la colline qu'escaladaient les fantassins nippons.. Parmi le fracas
des projectiles et les plaintes des camarades blessés, un soldat faillit fouler aux
pieds une gracieuse fleurette qui croissait, belle et solitaire, au liane de la col-
line. C'était une de ces plantes qui sont comniunes '' à la Chine et au Japon,
et le soldat, surpris peut-être par un brusque souvenir, se baissa, cueillit la
fleur avec amour sous la grêle de shrapnels et la mit dans son havresac :
puis il bondit pour reprendre sa place au premier rang et braver le feu meur-
trier des Russes.
Combien de soldats, combien d'hommes eussent songé à s'arrêter un instant
pour sauver de la destruction une mignonne fleurette ? Combien se fussent,
en un semblable péril, laissé amollir par cette subite et humaine tendresse ?
Nulle part au monde les fleurs et la décoration florale ne sont associées à la
vie journalière du peuple comme au Japon. Chaque maison de thé, chacjue
demeure particulière, chaque temple a son jardin qui resplendit et qui
embaume. Même dans les grandes villes comme Tokio, Yokohama et Nagasaki,
où l'espace ** coûte cher, on ne renonce pas à ce luxe, mais on remplace les
parterres et les plates-bandes par des pots et des caisses de fleurs dont la
splendeur parfumée réjouit presque autant la vue. C'est qu'en effet le jardi-
nier japonais n'est pas seulement un ouvrier habile ; c'est un artiste, un
magicien même, capable d'embellir les aspects de la nature les plus ingrats ■',
que ce soit un maigre jardin en bordure de la route ou la pente rocheuse d'un
coteau presque entièrement dépourvu de terre végétale.
Chaque mois de l'année japonaise a une tleur qui lui est consacrée, quel-
ques-uns en ont deux. Au mois de janvier, les arbres sont dénudés ; le gazon
selon toute apparence est mort (du moins pour qui ne connaît point les bizarres
habitudes de l'herbe de Corée) ; le jardin a pris une teinte brune ; les pal-
miers et autres plantes setnblables sont douillettement enveloppés dans la
paille de leurs chaudes couvertures d'hiver, qui portent le nom de kimonos et
sont donc des vêtements au sens propre du terme. En dépit de ces tristesses,
le jaune éclatant de l'arabis s'épanouit avec orgueil, et partout des signes
certains annoncent les prochaines moissons Ileuries. Dans les rues de la ville,
des gens portent tendrement de grosses bottes de ramilles que garnissent de
minuscules bourgeons à peine entr'ouverls ; ils vont utiliser toutes les res-
sources d'un enviable génie inventif pijur faire servir ces maigres branches à
la décoration de leurs logis.
Mainte pensée gracieuse et subtile, mainte idée poétique se sont glissées dans
les noms japonais des fleurs et des plantes. Ainsi l'expression Saikan no san ya
(les trois amis de l'hiveri nous montre réunis la prune commune, le pin et le
bambou. Si l'on se rappelle que la prune symbolise la douceur et la joie, le pin
la longévité, le bambou la droiture, et que tous trois sont donnés en cadeau à
l'époque du premier de l'an, on voit quelle délicate allégorie expriment ces sou-
haits de bonheur. ">
Cuve Holl.vjnd.
7. qui poussent également .' — 8. le terrain. — y. désagréables. — lo. Tiré d'un livre
charmant: Ac Japon (Vuibert et Nony, Paris, 1908). Voir le compte rendu au Supplément .
100
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
[604]
Le Dôme
(Suite.)
Dans la nuit, d'étoiles semée
Et sous la sérénité bleue,
Le Dôme courbe son échine
De plomb sur le tambour de pierre,
Comme une mère soucieuse
Sur la ville dormante il veille,
Et, la dominant, symbolise
L'Eternité dans l'air qui passe.
Les morts, en silence, se glissent
Sur le dos de plomb et simulent
Bientôt une frange aux saillies ;
Sur chaque relief ils se posent.
— Les marins d'Antium retirent
Du port de Néron des amphores
Voir le texte dans la partie italienne.
Que les ondes tyrrhéniennes
Incrustèrent de coquillages ;
Ainsi le Dôme, immense amphore,
S'élève dans la nuit sereine,
Tout incrusté de blancs squelettes
Qui l'ornent comme des guirlandes.
De là-haut ils courbent leurs crânes
Sur le plan confus des demeures.
Cherchant les lieux qui, jadis, virent
Leur chair souffrir et leur cœur
[battre.
Ils cherchent ces témoins antiques
De leurs amours et de leurs larmes.
Où de nouveaux êtres encore
Aiment comme eux et, comme eux,
[plevuent.
(A suivre.)
Giulio ORSl^M.
(Domenico Gnoli.)
Trad. Pierre Ilalary (Du Vallon au
Sommet. Paris, Alphonse Lemerre,
1908).
La mort d'un héros
V
Mais où était-il donc ? Tous les regards volaient de wagon en Avagon,
ceux de Mania pleins d'anxiété ; à chaque seconde il lui semblait qu'elle
allait défaillir. 0 Dieu du ciel, qu'il battait follement, son cœur !
Et maintenant, un homme ouvrit la porte d'un Avagon devant lequel se
tenaient justement Leschko et sa fdle. Avec une peine infinie, pAle comme
la mort, chancelant, appuyé sur le bras d'un employé complaisant, Michel
descendit de wagon et se trouva soudain près de Mania. S'il avait fait moins
sombre, si l'unique lampe à pétrole de la gare avait été moins mauvaise,
Mania l'aurait certainement reconnu. Mais elle le regarda à peine. Lorsque
d'une voix basse et timide, il prononça son nom, elle tressaillit, et, secouée
par un frisson d'épouvante, elle fixa le malheureux estropié. Puis avec un
cri terrible : Michel ! elle tomba inerte avant que son père, dont l'horreur
avait paralysé les bras, evit pu faire un mouvement pour la retenir.
Les autres avaient entendu le cri de terreur de la jeune fille et coururent
vers elle. Tout se tut On n'entendit plus que le halètement de la locomo-
tive et le grincement des roues. Et lorsque ce bruit lui-même se fut
évanoui, il régna dans la gare un calme de cimetière, un silence à vous
briser le cœur. Personne ne remuait. Enfin le vieux Leschko s'écria irrité :
« Psia krew ! Etes-vous figés, bonnes gens, ou bien la foudre vous a-t-elle
frappés ? Aidez-moi donc à transporter la petite jusqu'à la voiture ! »
Voir les quatre autres parties.
[605] FAKTIE FRANÇAISE iOl
Sans mot dire, quelques hommes relevèrent la jeune fille étendue là
toute raide et la portèrent jusqu'à la voilure. D'autres, hommes et femmes,
s'esquivèrent en se joignant au groupe. Bientôt, on entendit le galop d'un
petit cheval et le roulement de la britschka.
A la gare, toujours même silence, un silence de mort. Subitement, un
cri le traversa, un cri qui pénétra dans tous les cœurs en les glaçant.
C'était Michel Lobicki qui sanglotait, ô Vierge pleine de grâces, qui
sanglotait efTroyablement, comme seuls les hommes peuvent sangloter.
Alors se passa une chose étrange. Kasper Garowicz, dont en ne connais-
sait presque plus la voix, s'approcha du pauvre infirme en larmes et lui
dit : « 0 Michel, mon cher beau-frère, tu es un grand héros, aussi vrai que
j'ai besoin du secours de Dieu, et je t'aime bien. Sois le bienvenu ! » Et il
embrassa Michel sur les deux joues.
Les autres, subitement, retrouvèrent la parole, se mirent à pousser des
cris de joie plus bruyants qu'auparavant, et des hourrahs, etdes vivats en
l'honneur de celui qui revenait. Ratia lui sauta au cou et affirma en sanglo-
tant : « Je f aime bien, Michel, mon frère, aussi vrai queje suis une bonne
chrétienne et que je désire le salut éternel. Viens, ô héros bien-aimé ! »
Michel secoua tristement la tête et dit à voix basse : « J'ai tant de mal,
tant de mal à marcher, chère Katia, as-lu là ta petite voiture ? »
Non, elle avait oublié la petite voiture, il ne s'en trouvait pas d'autre
là, et il y avait loin jusqu'au village pour une pauvre jambe de bois peu
habituée à se mouvoir.
Un des jeunes gens eut une idée qui enthousiasma tous les autres :
« Nous porterons notre héros en triomphe jusqu'au village, » cria-t-il.
c( Psia krew, nous sommes patriotes et bons chrétiens. »
« Oui, nous le sommes, par mon âme, » dit Katia, « mais il en est
d'autres qui ne le sont pas. » Cette restriction était à l'adresse du vieux
Leschko et de sa fille.
Michel se défendit tristement. « Je vous en prie, ne le faites pas, » sup-
plia-t-il. « Je vous en prie. »
Mais en vain. Deux solides gaillards le prirent sur leurs épaules, et en
avant ! Le malade se mordait les lèvres jusqu'au sang pour ne pas crier.
Car le chemin était raboteux, et quand les porteurs trébuchaient, ou chan-
geaient le pas, ou allaient trop vite, Michel avait mal dans tous les mem-
bres. Et ces petits accidents se produisaient à chaque minute. Le héros
pleurait tout bas. Mais ceux qui le portaient, ceux qui marchaient devant
et derrière lui ne le voyaient pas. Il faisait si sombre !
(A suivre.) Friedrich Webner van Oestéren.
La souffrance cherchée.
C'est un petit enclos couronné de rosiers
Où l'été joue avec ses flèches et ses flammes'
C'est un petit enclos à l'odeur de fraisiers
Où le volubilis s'accroche aux jusquiames.
I . ses rmjons de soleil.
102 fAUTlIi FRANÇAISE [606]
C'est un petit enclos plein d'orangers fleuris,
D'ardents- géraniums, de mauves balsamines ;
D'où l'on entend la voix rauque de la perdrix
Descendre doucement des prochaines collines.
On voit glisser sur les pelouses de satin'
De souples écureuils à la queue en panache. . .
Parfois un cri de biche et le son argentin
Des clochettes au col ^ d'une paisible vache .
Sur l'étang constellé de roses nénuphars
S'entrechoque au soleil l'essaim des libellules. . .
C'est un petit enclos strié de vols épars
D'oiseaux happant les moucherons des campanules.
La vie avec bonheur et d'un pas alangui
Chemine sur le sable éclatant des allées
Et me dit : « Le repos est là. Si l'heure fuit,
Qu'importe ? N'es-tu pas à l'abri des mêlées ?
« Reste. J'offre l'oubli, l'allégement, la paix
Dans mon enceinte où règne un si calme silence ! »
— Hélas ! petit enclos, sous vos taillis épais
Mon cœur éclaterait d'être ainsi sans souffrance !
Pierre de Boucii.vud '\
2. de couleur vive. — 3. unies comme le salin. — 4. au cou. — 5. Les Lauriers de
l'Olympe, page 65 (Lemerre. Paris, 1907, prix 3 fr. 5o).
Contes de la Vieille France*.
lY
Mécontente de son sort.
Bien certainement, Mathurin était le meilleur mari du village. Matlm-
rine, sa femme, dormait encore quand il se levait : il allumait le feu, tirait
l'eau du puits, distribuait le grain à la volaille, préparait les légumes pour
la soupe. Quand il partait aux champs, pour ne déranger personne, il
emportait son pain et son lard. A la nuit tombante, il revenait pour tra-
vailler encore, et, quelle qu'eût été la besogne de la journée, il obéissait à
un mot, à un signe. Fallait-il récurer un chaudron, balayer le plancher,
bercer le petit enfant, bêcher un coin du jardin au clair de lune, monter,
descendre, courir ? Il était prêt à tout, il faisait tout avec docilité, touché
jusqu'aux larmes d'une parole affectueuse, résigné aux paroles dures, tel
un bon chien.
Mathurine ne contestait pas les mérites de Mathurin ; cependant elle
n'était pas heureuse : elle trouvait son mari trop âgé. Les jours de fête, elle
* Voir les n°^ 5, 8 et 11 .
[607] PARTIK P^KANÇAISE 103
le comparait aux autres hommes et se sentait humiliée de lui voir le front
ridé, les cheveux grisonnants, le dos un peu voûté. 11 ne dansait pas si
légèrement que celui-ci ; il ne chantait pas si bien que celui-là ; il n'avait
pas l'allure dégagée ni le sourire aimable de cet autre. . . En somme, il ne
faisait pas honneur à sa femme et elle souffrait dans sa vanité.
Or un matin, sur la grand' place, arriva un étranger vêtu de pourpre et
d'or, couvert d'un casque éblouissant, déforme insolite, escorté de nègres
noirs comme la nuit. D'où venait-il ? de l'Orient ou de l'Enfer ? Etait-ce un
diable ou un Sarrasin ? Sa barbe était d'ébène, ses yeux de flamme, et son
visage avait la pâleur d'un cierge. Il fit installer une énorme chaudière de
cuivre et, redressant sa haute taille, dominant de la tête la foule des paysans
séduits et craintifs, il parla d'une voix singuhère qui avait la sonorité du
métal. Il déclara que, pour un faible salaire, il se chargeait de faire du
neuf avec du vieux et qu'il resterait deux jours entiers dans le bourg à la
disposition des amateurs. « Habits élimés, bêches usées, socs ébréchés,
meubles éclopés, il réparerait et rajeunirait tout ; bien plus, il rendrait la
vigueur aux affaiblis, la beauté aux enlaidis, la fraîcheur aux fanés. Rien
n'était impossible à son art. » Effectivement, cette matinée-là, il fit des
miracles, et, l'après-midi, ce fut encore plus prodigieux : on plongea dans
la chaudière mystérieuse des outils cassés qu'on en retira intacts, des vête-
ments rapiécés, véritables loques, qui reparurent tels qu'ils étaient sortis
des mains du tailleur ; elle reçut un àne décrépit, pelé, et rendit un ànon
gambadant. Les villageois rentrèrent chez eux émerveillés.
Mathurine aussi rentra émerveillée ; elle n'avait pas de tout le jour quitté
la grand' place, les yeux arrondis par la surprise et l'âme en émoi. Quand
Mathurin revint des champs, elle fut aimable, câline, et le bonhomme en
eut le cœur si plein de joie qu'il oubliait de manger sa soupe, fumante et
appétissante pourtant. La soupe mangée, les écuelles vicies, les époux
s'assirent dehors sur le banc, à côté de la porte. Les étoiles s'allumaient
dans le ciel limpide, encore vaguement clair ver» Toccident ; l'odeur
des foins couj^és montait des prairies ; et Mathurine chuchotait à l'oreille
de son compagnon alangui par la digestion et les parfums rustiques, ému
par la tendresse inaccoutumée de sa femme, incapable d'ailleurs de refuser
rien. Aussi fut- il bientôt convaincu, et quand ils allèrent se coucher, il
avait promis de se soumettre, comme d'ordinaire, à ce qu'elle voudrait.
C'est pourquoi le lendemain, dès l'aurore, on le fourra dans la grande
marmite, et il en sortit droit, svelte, avec des cheveux noirs, des dents
blanches et des joues roses. Mathurine, à son côté, hère comme un roi
après une victoire, fière comme une mère au bras de son fils aîné, traversa
le village rempli d'envie et d'admiration.
Cette félicité dura peu. En même temps qu'il avait recouvré la jeunesse,
Mathurin avait perdu ses qualités d'autrefois. Ce fruit muret sucré devint
très vite un fruit âpre et vert. Désormais, ce fut Mathurine qui dut se lever
la première, allumer le feu, tirer l'eau du puits, préparer les légumes ; ce
fut elle qui dut frotter, balayer, donner le grain aux poules et bercer
l'enfant. Ce fut elle qui monta, descendit, trotta, courut. Comble de misère,
ce fut elle qui se lut quand il parla. Et comment parlait-il ? « Allez, la
vieille, obéissez et sans réplique ! C'est moi le maître ici. Pas d'observa-
tion, ou gare au bâton ! » Voilà le ton qu'il prenait avec elle. Sans doute il
chantait comme sainte Cécile elle-même : mais il chantait chez les autres ;
chez lui il criait et jurait. Sans doute il était, à la danse, aussi léger qu'un
lOi PARTIE FRANÇAISE [608j
papillon : mais, comme elle vieillissait, il dansait avec d'autres. La
malheureuse, tête basse, acceptait les ordres et les injures ; et elle soupi-
rait en songeant au temps passé ; et elle s'arrachait les cheveux toutes les
fois où elle se rappelait l'étranger escorté de ses nègres. . .
Elle guetta longtemps, sur la route poudreuse, l'arrivée d'un nouveau
magicien qui, dans une autre chaudière, aurait transformé le neuf en vieux
et les jouvenceaux en vieillards : mais ce magicien-là ne vint jamais.
Max Jasinski.
Le Pin et le Palmier *.
Un pin se dresse solitaire
Au nord, sur un morne coteau.
11 s'endort ; la glace et la neige
L'enveloppent d'un blanc manteau.
11 rêve à quelque palmier grêle
Qui, loin, là-bas, en Orient,
Seul et taciturne, s'attriste
Sur le flanc d'un rocher brûlant.
H. llElXE.
(Traduction Pierre Halary.
* Voir la partie allemande.
L'esprit d'à-propos.
11 y a peu de temps, une scène amusante s'est produite dans un théâtre
de Londres où l'on ne joue que les drames les plus sombres et les plus
terrifiants.
On en était au dernier acte, au moment où la vertu allait être récompen-
sée et le vice puni. M. Robinson qui avait joué le rôle du traître, du méchant
traître, allait mourir quand le public, révolté par une émotion excessive,
se mit à hurler, à siffler, avec un épouvantable vacarme. Durant trois ou
quatre minutes, M. Robinson, qui était couché sur son lit de mort, tint
bon ' contre la foule déchaînée -. Mais comme celle-ci ne s'apaisait pas, il
bondit brusquement, s'avança jusqu'au bord de la scène et dit :
— Mesdames et Messieurs, je fais appel à votre esprit de justice et je vous
prie de ne pas troubler la représentation. Les bons ^ vont être sauvés et
récompensés, mais il faut que vous nous en laissiez le temps. Quant à
moi, je suis tout prêt à mourir, mais, je vous assure, il m'est impossible
de mourir au milieu d'un tapage pareil.
Le public éclata en applaudissements et M. Robinson, satisfait, retourna
à son lit de mort, se coucha, tira la couverture jusqu'au menton, poussa
quelques gros soupirs et mourut.
Les spectateurs furent dans l'enthousiasme, et jamais M. Robinson
n'eut un tel succès.
résista ù. — a. lumuUueuse. — 3. Les personnages sympathiques de la pièce.
Les Cinq Langues
N» U. 20 Avril 1908. 8« Année.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
Haïti.
Le monde entier connaît les derniers événements de Haïti. Il en a lu les détails
avec un peu de dégoût mais avec peu de surprise. Voici longtemps en elTet que
cette petite république est célèbre à trois titres * : la coquetterie de ses femmes,
sa voirie et ses révolutions.
Rien n'égale la passion des négresses, mélisses et mulâtresses pour la toilette,
les plumes et les fanfreluches. Heureuses là-bas les couturières, les modistes et
celles qu'on appelait autrefois « les marchandes de frivolités - ». Jeunes et vieilles
vident chez elles leurs bourses. Jamais les chapeaux ne sont assez compliqués ;
jamais les robes n'ont assez de plis et de volants ; jamais les oreilles, les doigts,
le cou et le corsage n'ont assez de bijoux. Et quelles couleurs ! Cela éclate, cela
rayonne, cela éblouit. Le violet, le jaune, le vert et le rouge luttent entre eux
furieusement et flambent à l'envi, illuminés par le soleil des Antilles et par le
rire des dents blanches.
Les rues où se promènent toutes ces splendeurs laissent une autre sorte de
souvenirs. La municipalité de la capitale a, depuis longtemps, renoncé aux
vaines préoccupations du balayage et de l'arrosage ; l'égout n'est là qu'une
supcrfluité^. On jette les ordures devant la porte ; on verse les eaux sales par
les fenêtres et, pour le reste, on s'en remet à la Providence. Heureusement, des
porcs flânent ; entre deux sommes, ils mangent et boivent ce qu'ils peuvent ;
grâce à eux, le passant, l'étranger, l'élégante en ombrelle ont la place suffisante
pour poser le pied. J'ajouterai que, probablement par respect pour la couleur
locale, ces utiles animaux sont tout noirs.
Quant aux révolutions, elles sont une habitude en ce beau pays. Le Cri de
Paris racontait dernièrement comment M. Pichon, notre ministre des affaires
étrangères, eut l'occasion jadis de faire connaissance avec ces mœurs spéciales.
Dans sa jeunesse il avait eu comme camarades à Paris des étudiants haïtiens,
tous fils de sénateurs, de généraux, tout au moins de colonels. Plus tard il alla
représenter la France à Port-au-Prince. Il retrouva certains de ces jeunes gens
devenus des notables : colonels, généraux, sénateurs. Il s'enquit des autres.
« Fusillés 1 lui répondit-on ; ils complotaient, nous les avons exécutés. »
Récemment une vingtaine de conspirateurs ont été sans jugement passés par
les armes^. C'est vraiment peu de chose, doivent penser les vieillards de là-bas.
Dans leur enfance ils ont vu Soulouque. A côté de Soulouque, qu'est-ce que le
président Nord Alexis ?
Soulouque, devenu maître de Haïti en 1849, commença par le grotesque.
Hanté par le souvenir de Napoléon I'"', il se fit fabriquer à Paris une couronne,
un globe, un sceptre, un manteau impérial, et se proclama empereur. Il pro-
mulgua une constitution et se fixa une liste civile d'un million. Puis, toujours
à l'image de Napoléon, il créa une noblesse, qu'il décora de litres de carnaval :
sous des uniformes de mardi-gras"', on vit parader le prince de Tape-à-l'œil, le
1. pour trois raisons. — 2. De plumes, de rubans, de fard, etc.. — 3. une chose inu-
tile. — 4. fusillés. — 5. carnavalesques.
[82] FRANC. 14
106 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [650]
duc de Trou-bonbon, les marquis de la Limonade, de la Cassonade, de la Mar-
melade, les barons du Petit-Trou et du Sale-trou. Il voulut aussi des grenadiers
avec des bonnets à poils, et sur les bonnets à poils reluisaient des plaques en fer-
blanc sur lesquelles se lisait encore: sardines à l'huile.
Cela était drôle ; ce qui fut moins drôle, ce furent les moyens dont il usa
pour se maintenir dix ans au pouvoir. Emprisonnements, fusillades, massacres,
c'étaient ses jeux ordinaires. Sur un soupçon'^, il faisait arrêter et mettre à
mort, et c'est par l'épouvante qu'il régnait, aussi terrible à ses généraux qu'à
ses plus humbles sujets. On sait comment cela se termina : il rêva lui aussi la
gloire militaire, déclara sottement la guerre à la République dominicaine, se fit
battre, s'enfuit à ia Jamaïque avec son argent et sa famille et il y mourut dans
l'imbécillité finale.
Assurément, les événements actuels, loin d'effrayer, doivent faire sourire les
bons nègres de Haïti s'ils se rappellent ces dix fameuses années. Une vingtaine
d'exécutions, seulement ? Peut être même trouvent-ils que les temps héroïques
sont passés, que les traditions se perdent, que la vigueur diminue dans les âmes,
que tout dégénère. Sans doute les vingt fusillés auraient une opinion différente ;
mais, à l'heure qu'il esf, leur opinion est négligeable. Et à travers les i-ues,
parmi les porcs rôdeurs, il y a probablement toujours autant de toilettes miri-
fiques qui fiamboient au soleil.
M. J.
G. (juand il soufiçonnait quelqu'un. — 7. maintenant.
L'enterrement de la sardine.
Si vous étiez à Madrid, gare d'Âtocha, vers huit heures du matin, le jour du
samedi saint, vous verriez s'ébranler un train peu ordinaire. En etfet, voici une
locomotive, parée, fleurie et enrubannée comme pour un jour d'inauguration
de ligne ferrée. Mais, au lieu de luxueuses voitures, on attelle, derrière, de
simples wagons, presque tous de troisième classe. Les groupes qui s'avancent
sur le quai pour les prendre d'assaut' ne sont pas non plus des personnages
officiels ; ce sont de braves provinciaux du inidi de l'Espagne, en habits de fête,
portant chacun un panier bondé^ de victuailles et de menus colifichets. Tous
ces gens, hommes et femmes, avec les costumes de leur province, Castillans,
Manchegos et autres, forment des groupes réjouissants à l'œiP par les coulem's
variées, la coupe et les ornements de leurs vêtements. L'heure du départ appro-
che, mais en Espagne on n'est jamais pressé de partir, moins encore d'arriver.
Les tètes semblent attendre quelqu'un à la portière. Qui peut-on bien encore
attendre?... Mais ce groupe* de musiciens qui vient bannièie déployée et s'ar-
rête près du train. Sur un signe du chef, les accents d'un pas redoublé^ se font
entendre, les voyageurs agitent leurs chapeaux, leurs mouchoirs, poussent les
ah! ah! viclor ! traditionnels.
Les musiciens prennent place dans un compartiment, le train s'ébranle et
disparait bientôt dans un nuage de fumée. Il conduit tout ce monde à l'enter-
rement de la sardine. A chaque station s'ajoute un groupe de voyageurs. A Aran-
juez, Alcazar, la Roda, Chinchilla, Cieza, villes les plus importantes entre
Madrid et Murcie, arrivent de nouveaux musiciens, de nouvelles bannières.
De Madrid à Murcie, ce sont des éclats de rire bruyants, des cris, des chants,
des fanfares : la journée et la nuit se passent ainsi. Mais c'est à l'arrivée à Murcie
qu'il faut assister.
On a ajouté de nombreux drapeaux à l'avant de la locomotive qui a été soi-
gneusement enguirlandée de verdure. Chaque portière a son drapeau ou sa
1. pour y monter en tumulte. — 2. rempli. — 3. d'aapcçt réjouissant. — /). mais, c'est ce
groupe... — 5. d'une marche .
[651]
PARTIE FKAiNÇAISE
107
bannière, chaque wagon a son orcheslre. jouant son morceau le plus criard ;
la machine siftle à pleine vapeur; tout ce peuple saute à terre, criant, brail-
lant, levant les bras, agitant cannes, chapeaux et mouchoirs, faisant voler au
loin les paniers devenus inutiles. C'est un brouhaha infernal !
On déploie la sardine, immense baudruche de plus de dix mètres de long,
représentant ce poisson sous les plus belles couleurs qui rekiisenl au soleil. La
sardine est fixée au bout de quatre ou cinq perches tenues par des jeunes gens
qui élèvent ce gigantesque poisson bien au-dessus des tètes de la fouie. Le cor-
tège en rangs serrés se met en marche ; mais un roulement de vingt tambours
se fait entendre à la sortie de la gare ; un orcheslre composé de nombreux
musiciens joue un air funèbre; chacun se tait. C'est la municipalité de la ville
de Murcie, alcade en tête, qui vient recevoir la sardine. Un discours de bien-
venue est adressé au peuple par le premier magistrat de la ville et, après de
nouveaux vivais'', de nouveaux cris, en sautant et gambadant, cette foule se
remet en marche. Chaque groupe de musiciens exécute son morceau de musi-
que, sans se préoccuper de celui qui est Joué devant et derrière lui ; c'est une
cacophonie indescriptible : on ne s'entend plus parler entre voisins, on ne se
voit plus à quelques pas, tant la poussière de la roule vous aveugle, dans ce
pays où il pleut si rarement.
Le spectacle est vraiment hilarant " de cette sardine se tortillant au-dessus
de celte foule et qui semble nager dans l'espace par suite des mouvements que
lui impriment les porteurs bousculés par la cohue.
On fait ainsi le tour de la ville; mais à un moment la débandade est sonnée;
la sardine s'arrête au milieu de la place et les groupes, musique en tète, se
dispersent parcourant toutes les rues voisines.
A la rencontre de deux groupes, au tournant de deux rues ou sur une place,
ce sont de nouveaux cris et de nouveaux gestes; on danse une sarabande vrai-
ment échevelée ^ où se mêlent hommes, femmes et enfants. C'est une popula-
tion en délire, en folie de gaîlé^
Le lundi, réception officielle du train Bolijo, venant de Carlhagène.
Ce train des jarres, ou mieux des outres, qu'on nomme Bolijo, est aussi
remarquable que celui venant de Madrid, mais alors ce sont les populations et
les costumes du nord de l'Espagne qui viennent se mêler à ceux du sud arrivés
la veille.
Après la réception des Carthaginois commence l'enterrement de la sardine.
C'est une nouvelle cavalcade abracadabrante "^ qui se termine par le défilé des
chars sur la place de la Glorieta sur la rive droite de la Ségura. La nuit entière
se passe en fête ; les illuminations et les feux d'artifice éclairent la ville et les
environs. Enfin le ti'oisième jour, pour clôturer la fêle, il y a une grande
course de taureaux. Aussitôt après, au bruit de tous les instruments encore en
état de donner des sons, escortés par la municipalité, les amis et les parents,
les voyageurs des trains de la sardine et des Bolijos se rendent à la gare et
reprennent les voies qui les reconduiront vers Madrid et Carlhagène.
La sardine est enterrée pour une année".
Victor FoROT.
6. acclamations. — 7. coiniciue. — 8. fougueuse. — 9. folle de gaité. — 10. burlesque.
II. Extrait d'un livre très curieux : Carnacals et semaines saintes à travers le monde. Ctiez
Paul Chéronnet, Paris, 1906.
Le Dôme*.
{Suite.)
Quelques fenêtres resplendissent
Dans les ténèbres ; des squelettes,
* Voir le texte dans la partie italienne.
Parfois, les indiquent et tendent
Leurs doigts décharnés vers la Vie.
Vers la fenêtre où je regarde
Se tourne un squelette ; il secoue
Le crâne, comme pour un signe
Au descendant venu des Limbes.
108
PARTIE FKANÇAISR
^652]
Pourquoi ce salut qu'il m'envoie ?
« Serais-tu né dans ma demeure ?
Aurais-tu vécu dans ma chambre?
Serais-tu mort dans mon alcôve?
« Quand tu descendis dans la tombe,
Squelette, qu'étais- tu ? Jeune
[homme ?
Vieillard caduc ? Dame jolie,
D'un nimbe d'amour rayonnante ? »
Mais aujourd'hui votre sang rouge
Emplit nos artères fiévreuses,
Et nous sommes des chairs vivantes,
Et vous, des ossements arides.
Qui se souvient de vous ? Personne,
-Morts anciens ! Les morts de la veille,
Jalousement, toujours réclament
Des vivants en deuil fleurs et larmes.
Votre mémoire s'est éteinte,
S'est éteinte comme les notes
Qu'égrène une lyre sonore,
Et qui, dans le lointain, se perdent.
Que faites-vous là. Morts antiques ?
Etque voulez-vous de nous. Ombres ?
Rentrez dans la paix éternelle...
Pour vous il n'est plus rien sur terre !
Giulio Orsim.
(Domenico G.noli.)
Trad. Pierre Halary (Du Vallon au
Sommet. Paris, Alphonse Lemerre, 1908).
Edison chez lui.
Edison est très gravement malade : peut-être est-il perdu. A ce propos, voici l'extrait
d'un article de W. Octave Uza.nne paru dans la Dépêche de Toulouse.
11 ne faisait parade d'aucune vanité. Bien qu'il n'eût alors que quarante-si.f
ans, il en paraissait au moins cinquante-six. Vêtu à la façon des ouvriers anglais,
en bras de chemise, les manchettes retroussées, sans faux-col, le chapeau
melon ' posé à l'arrière du crâne, la figure poupine^, non rasée depuis plusieurs
jours, les cheveux sel et poivre -^ on eût dit, en le voyantchcz lui, qu'il appar-
tenait, en sous-ordre, à quelque équipe de chaulTe ou d'ajustage ^. La démarche
était lente, le dos légèrement voûté, l'œil gris-bleu froidement inquisiteur,
malicieux, pénétrant, bien que sans feu. Je remarquai ses mains courtes aux
ongles en deuil •', meurtries, éraflécs par des travaux de métallurgie. Il vint à
moi, dans la salle où je l'attendais, avec beaucoup de rondeur affable et cette
cordialité d'accueil si agréable, presque si fraternelle, chez les Anglo-Saxons
supérieurs.
11 convenait de lui parler fort, car déjà sa surdité était profonde ; mais il
s'approchait de lui-même, la main en corne d'acoustique, riant gaminement "
de son infirmité qui l'obligeait à tant de combinaisons pour converser. Il avait
énormément d'humour et de drôlerie dans son langage et sa diction nasil-
larde. 11 ne connaissait pas un traître ^ mot de français, d'italien, et très peu
d'allemand, mais, chose étrange — était-ce par galanterie? — il me déclara
aimer passionnément la France et les Français et n'avoir pour ses compatriotes
et même pour les Anglais que des sentiments antipathiques. Les uns et les
autres sont, me dit-il, trop brutaux, insensibles {unfeeliny) ; ils meurtrissent
les délicats et sont impitoyables dans leur arrivisme ". Et avec une grimace de
dédain et d'amertume, une crispation clownesque de son visage de vieux cabo-
tin ^ il ajoutait : « Vilaines, vilaines bêles ! Sales bêles ! »
La vérité est qu'Edison avait à se plaindre énormément des hommes d'alTaires
yankees. II avait été exploité, trop souvent même dépouillé du fruit de cer-
taines de ses découvertes. Son indignation à ce sujet ne s'apaisait pas, et tout
en me prenant le bras familièrement pour me conter la férocité des procédés
dont il avait eu à soulTrir, il concluait, moitié riant hautement, moitié se
I. rond. — 2. ronde, imberbe, comme celle d'une poupée. — 3. grisonnants. — 4. à
un groupe de chauffeurs ou d'ajusteurs, dans une usine. — 5. bordés de noir. — 6. comme
un gamin. — 7. un seu' ° h.v;^ .ro,-.-:,,^^ ^ ,.r,o i.o.,!^
— 9. acteur.
s nu a ujusifurb, uaiia une usine. — a. uuruts ue nuu . — u. cumine
l. — 8. Désir d'arriver à une haute situation, par tous les moyens.
[653] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 109
lamentant, avec un geste tragique : « Les hommes sonl trop canailles et voleurs,
voyez-vous ! » Puis, gentiment, comme pour corriger son dire : « ... Sauf les
artistes, les poètes, les rêveurs ; ce sont les bons d'entre les méchants ! >•>
C'était d'autant plus aimable de sa part qu'à son avis, j'en suis sur, l'art n'était
qu'un luxe superflu et que les œuvres d'imagination ne pouvaient servir les
intérêts réels et pratiques de l'humanité...
... Je ne saurais décrire tout ce que je vis comme outillages inédits, inven-
tions à l'essai, machines à graver les chiffres et les lettres d'imprimerie, machi-
nes à chiffrer, à additionner, téléphones nouveaux styles, etc. Je revois encore
Edison, penché sur les cylindres des phonographes en fabrication, me faisant
admirer, à l'aide du microscope, les infinitésimales parcelles de saphir sei'vant
à fixer le son, à accrocher la note sur l'appareil enregistreur. Plus loin, il me
mettait en main, fébrile de gaieté, en me piessant de la mettre en poche,
comme souvenir, une montre à bon marché, la montre populaire en cuivre, du
prix de un dollar, qu'il venait d'éditer. Et il sortait la sienne, la jetait en l'air
comme un camelot, pour me montrer qu'elle ne craignait rien et c^u'il était
fier de n'en point avoir d'autre pour mesurer son temps si précieux. Au cours
de cette visite, le brave homme ne savait que m'offrir et me prodiguer, riant
sans cesse d'un rire de sourd à ses propres saillies, avec une joie très manifeste
et de fréquents tapotements de main affectueux sur mon épaule.
Ce puissant créateur de phénomènes avait une physionomie extraordinaire
de mobilité ; il semblait prendre plaisir à être comique, à grimacer, à exprimer
par des expressions énergiquement drolatiques ses goûts et dégoûts "*.
10. ce qui lui plaisait et ce qui le dégoûtait.
La mort d'un héros
VI
Les garçons déposèrent leur fardeau devant la maisonnette de Kasper
Garowicz. « 0 Michel, dors tout ton saoul aujourd'hui, » crièrent quelques-
uns. « Demain, nous fêterons ton retour à l'auberge. » — « Oh oui ! et tu
nous raconteras tout. » — « Tout le village sera là », criait-on pêle-mêle.
L'estropié passa le seuil en boitillant et entra chez son beau-frère. Dehors,
on entendait encore crier : « Vive le héros !» — « ^ ive Michel ! » —
c( Vivat !» — « Que tous les saints le protègent ! » Puis le silence se fit.
(( As- tu faim, Michel ? » demanda Katia.
Il secoua la tête. «Non, chère sœur, vraiment non, mais je suis fatigué,
affreusement fatigué. »
« j\e ferait-il pas bien d'aller se coucher ? n risqua timidement Kasper.
Katia fît un signe de tête ; elle était devenue subitement muette. Puis
elle conduisit son frère dans la petite chambre qu'il avait occupée autre-
fois, u Repose-toi, lui dit-elle, dors bien », et elle partit vite comme si elle
avait peur d'être seule avec lui. Il ne lui vint même pas à l'esprit de
l'aider à se déshabiller.
Mais le voyageur ne pensait guère à se déshabiller. Sans même enlever
sa jambe de"^bois, il se jeta sur le ht, comme il était, enfouit son visage
dans les épais oreillers de plume qu'on avait amoncelés sur le lit en son
honneur et étouffa ainsi les sanglots qui secouaient tout son être. « Mania! »
gémissait-il, « Mania ! »
Et cela dura longtemps, très longtemps. Puis Michel se dressa parce
qu'il entendait dans la chambre contiguë la voix criarde de sa sœur:
« Tu n'es qu'un imbécile, Kasper, disait-elle, entends-tu, le plus grand
" Voir les quatre autres parties.
110 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [654J
imbécile que j'aie jamais connu. Un honneur, tu dis que c'est un honneur,
je te remercie de l'honneur. Peut-être qu'il va venir travailler aux champs,
dis, espèce d'âne? Oui, n'est-ce pas, il va nous aider, l'infirme? Quanta
Mania, n'en parle pas. C'est une belle espèce, aussi vrai que je suis une
bonne chrétienne. Et le vieux Leschko, quel propre à rien ! Elle vient juste
de me dire qu'elle ne voulait pas de cet horrible cadeau, et lui, qu'il
n'entendait pas nourrir une bouche inutile. Comprends-tu, imbécile ? Et
maintenant, c'est nous qui lui donnerons à brouter, à lui qui ne peut
rien faire et qui peut vivre encore cent ans. Et pourquoi, je te le demande?
Naturellement, que je ne vais pas le laisser mourir de faim ; c'est mon
frère, je suis une bonne chrétienne et j'aime le bon Dieu. Mais prétendre
que c'est un honneur, espèce d'àne, parce qu'il est un héros, c'est une
— ah ! une stupidité sans pareille, tu m'entends bien. Et maintenant, va
te coucher. »
Michel, toujours dressé, entendit tout cela sans bouger, pétrifié. Il était
pâle à faire peur, mais pas un mu.«cle ne tressaillit, pas un membre ne
remua. Et il resta ainsi, semblant attendrequelquechose. Une heure entière
s'écoula; il ne remuait toujours pas. On aurait dit une statue. Puis subi-
tement il se mit à gémir, doucement, tout doucement.
Une porte conduisait de sa chambre au dehors. Michel, en boitillant,
passa la 2')orte.
Le lendemain matin, on retrouva le héros dans l'étang du village avec
l'étoile des braves sur sa poitrine.
[Fin.) Friedrich Werner van Oestéren.
La Maison.
Que vous êtes heureux, vous qui, bellement quittes
Des multiples soucis d'un sort plein de revers,
Pouvez, selon vos vœux, borner votre univers
A la demeure où vous naquîtes !
Lorsque d'autres, poussés si souvent à changer
De logis, par l'effet d'une fortune ' instable.
S'en vont porter leur lit, leur fauteuil et leur table
En un domicile étranger ;
Quand ceux-là, subissant les constantes gourmades
D'un destin sans pitié comme un jardin sans fleurs,
Doivent continûment mener, avec les leurs,
Une existence de nomades ;
Vous, sous l'antique toit de la même maison
Qui vit naître et mourir le grand-père et le père.
Vous pouvez, caressés par un destin prospère.
Passer votre humaine saison ^.
Le souvenir aimé des aïeux y fourmille ;
Et vous y rencontrez, par leurs soins amassés
Et par leurs doigts défunts si joliments placés,
Tous les trésors de la famille.
De vas ébats d'enfants immuables témoins,
Les portraits sur les murs ont des yeux débonnaires ;
I. destin. — s. le temps de votre vie.
[655] PAKTIB FRAMÇAISE ill
Et, tout autour de vous, les meubles centenaires
Se tassent clans les mêmes coins.
Les tentures, partout exquisement fanées.
Sont le cadre charmant du familier décor
Où le parfum subtil du passé flotte encor,
Malgré le nombre des années.
Il semble que, depuis toujours, chaque matin.
Par les carreaux verdis de la haute fenêtre.
Le soleil, souriant habitué, pénètre,
Et va dorer les plats d'étain.
Et ne dirait-on pas qu'en sa gaine noircie.
Qui cache son vieux cœur sans relâche battant,
Depuis toujours de même et d'un zèle constant,
L'horloge aux vôtres s'associe ?
Mille objets démodés, chauds encore et blottis
Dans le recueillement de l'ancestrale armoire,
Vous remettent-ils pas, à toute heure, en mémoire,
Les chers êtres qui sont partis?
Mais, quoi ! sont-ils partis ? Si la chose était telle,
Éprouveriez-vous donc un sentiment si doux ?
Non, ils ne sont pas morts : ils revivent en vous,
Dans ce milieu calme et fidèle.
Déjà leur propre voix, en vous, vous consolait ;
Au fond de vous, sur vous, vous retrouvez leur trace;
Et, quand vous vous voyez, par hasard, dans la glace.
Vous voyez leur propre reflet.
Vous avez, en parlant, les mêmes attitudes.
Et vous sentez en vous courir le même sang ;
Et, dans ce même lieu qui les vit vieillissant.
Vous reprenez leurs habitudes.
Aussi, ne cessant point d'aimer et de choyer
Tout ce qui, dans leur temps, fit leurs raisons de vivre,
Vous avez ce bonheur si rare de poursuivre
Votre vie au même foyer !
Vous y saurez goûter la paix la plus profonde,
Si vous le voulez bien, jusqu'à votre trépas ;
Car ce petit espace émouvant n'est-il pas,
Pour vous, le vrai centre du monde ^ ?
Georges Docquois.
3. Cette poésie, doucement émue, n'a-t-elle pas le charme des vieux meubles et des
vieilles maisons qu'elle décrit?
Souvenirs sur Ibsen.
Tous les jours à midi, dans la salle à manger du Grand Hôtel de Chris-
tiania, un homme vieux, petit, trapu, touffes de cheveux blancs sous un
vaste chapeau haut de forme, favoris blancs encadrant un visage énergi-
que et ridé, faisait son entrée.
H2
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
6561
Tout le monde le connaissait, la caissière, les garçons, les habitués du
restaurant et même les étrangers de passage qui venaient déjeuner là tout
exprès pour voir Henrik Ibsen...
A midi, bien exactement, il ouvrait la porte et se dirigeait vers la table
qui lui était réservée. Mais, dans cette salle pleine de gens qui étaient en
relations avec lui, il ne regardait
^ — Ov-_ personne, il n'adressait pas un
coup de chapeau ', pas un salut,
pas un sourire. 11 était, pour
l'instant % au milieu d'inconnus.
Arrivé à sa table, il donnait son
pardessus au garçon et apparais-
sait, immuablement, en redin-
gote. 11 gardait son chapeau, le
posait sur la table en face de lui
de façon à voir la coifFe. 11 tirait
un petit peigne de sa poche et,
sans cesser de regarder au fond
de son chapeau, il ébouriffait ses
cheveux blancs un peu aplatis,
leur redonnait l'allure échevelée
(|ui lui plaisait ; il passait aussi
le peigne dans ses favoris. Et, ce
laisant ^, il avait toujours les
yeux fixés sur l'intérieur de son
chapeau .
Une fois cheveux et favoris en
broussaille ^, Ibsen remettait le
peigne dans sa poche, posait le chapeau sur la banquette à côté de lui, et
alors, alors seulement, il découvrait autour de lui des visages connus.
Ah ! quel élonnement ! Quelle agréable surprise tous les jours renou-
velée! Quoi! leconsidR... est là ! Et l'avocat X... ! Et le chambellan T...
avec sa femme ! Et le brasseur Z... ! Vraiment, les voilà réunis aujour-
d'hui comme hier ! Comment ne les avoir pas aperçus plus tôt! Quelle
impardonnable distraction ! C'est à n'y pas croire ! Et Ibsen, souriant et
confus, adresse d'aimables saints à droite, à gauche, en face, à gauche
encore, et même à cette jeune femme décidément inconnue qui le regarde
avec une curiosité si nettement admiralive ^ — avec de beaux yeux
aussi, de beaux yeux bruns un peu métalliques. Il y en a maintenant
pour tout le monde ; chacun a son salut, et les cheveux ébourifTés pen-
dant quelques minutes ne cessent de s'incliner.
Mais qu'y a-t-il donc au fond de ce chapeau haut de forme posé tout
à l'heure sur la table ?
... Devinez, si vous l'osez, ce qui se cache dans le chapeau d'Ibsen !...
Un miroir !
Un petit miroir ovale encadré dans la coiffe, un miroir juste assez grand
pour que le maître puisse y voir reflétés sa vieille tête, ses cheveux blancs
un peu aplatis, ses favoris blancs un peu défaits par le vent qui vient de
la mer et qui souffle fort dans les rues de Christiania. A chaque fois qu'il
enlève son chapeau, il le place devant lui, et, devant la glace sertie « dans
la coiffe, il s'arrange, il ébouriffe ses cheveux, il donne à sa figure l'aspect
(ju'il veut, l'air que doit avoir aux yeux des contemporains et de la posté-
rité la tête d'Henrik Ibsen ^ ...
Ileurik Ibskn.
I. Une se découvrait pas. — 2. en ce moment-là. — 3. en faisant cela. — h. ébou-
riffés. - 5. on l'admiration se voyait si nettement. — G. encadrée. — 7. Celle jolie anec-
dote est extraite d'un très intéressant article de M. Claude Anet paru dans le Gil Blas.
Les Cinq Langues
NM5. 5 Mai 1908. 8^ Année.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
La littérature et l'éducation.
Dans les Irois derniers siècles on croyait à l'existence d'un Beau unique,
absolu, le même dans tous les temps et pour tous les hommes, que les œuvres
d'art avaient plus ou moins parfaitement réalisé et dont l'image la plus ache-
vée nous avait été donnée par les œuvres des Anciens '. Le XVI[« siècle, qui pro-
clamait que la source du Beau était dans la nature, déclarait en même temps
que celle-ci avait été si parfaitement exprimée par les Anciens que le devoir des
Modernes était désormais de la chercher surtout dans l'image qu'en avait laissée
les classiques. Telle est la pensée de Boileau. Telle est aussi la théorie de Le
Brun ^ en matière d'art, et c'est l'idée qu'on rencontre à chaque instant dans
les discussions de l'Académie de peinture du XYII* siècle. Ces vues -^ ont régné
plus ou moins explicitement dans tout l'enseignement littéraire jusque vers le
milieu du siècle dernier.
Aujourd'hui nous ne croyons pas à l'existence d'un Beau unique, immuable,
révélé une fois pour toutes*, et dont les œuvres d'art de tous les temps ne puis-
sent se rappiocher que dans la mesure où elles ressemblent aux œuvres anti-
ques. Nous admirons également et avec une pareille sincérité, n'en déplaise à ^
Ferdinand Brunetière, le Parthénon et Notre-Dame '^, Sophocle et Shakespeare.
Dans les créations les plus différentes du génie humain, nous reconnaissons un
effort égal et également heureux pour exprimer quelques-unes des plus hautes
aspirations de l'humanité; efîort nécessairement partiel, fragmentaire, mais qui
enrichit chaque fois notre idée du Beau, si bien que cette idée, infiniment com-
plexe, ne pourra nous apparaître dans sa plénitude que lorsque, l'humanité
ayant achevé sa course, nos descendants pourront faire la somme de toutes les
espérances du passé.
Ce n'est donc pas la règle du Beau absolu que nous cherchons dans la litté-
rature. Disons, d'une manière générale, que c'est la vie, l'homme lui même,
dans ses tendances personnelles et dans son évolution indéfinie.
Nous demandons à la littérature d'un peuple de nous apprendre comment il
vivait et comment il pensait. Les événements extérieurs de son histoire, le
tableau'' même de ses institutions, nous renseignent moins finement, moins
profondément, sur ce qu'il y a en lui de plus intime. Pour nous apprendre
comment il perçoit les choses, comment il imagine, comment il lie ses percep-
tions et ses idées, comment il raisonne, comment il sent et comment il veut,
rien ne vaut le témoignage inconscient qu'il en a laissé dans les écrits de ses
poètes et de ses penseurs.
Est-ce à dire que nous négligerons le côté esthétique de la littérature ? En
aucune façon, pas plus que le côté moral. L'idéal moral et esthétique d'un
peuple fait partie de son àme et c'est cette àme tout entière que nous voulons
connaître. Mais nous ne chercherons pas dans son idéal des règles absolues qui
I. Les Grecs et les Romains. — 2. Grand peintre du XVII« siècle. — 3. ces idées. —
4. définitivement. — 5. malgré — 6. L'église Notre-Dame à Paris, clief-d'œuvre d'ar-
chitecture gotiiique. — 7. l'exposé méthodique.
[88 J FRANC. 15
114 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [698]
s'imposent à nous ni un modèle à imiter servilement. Nous y verrons les élé-
ments d'une connaissance plus complète de l'homme en général, étudié dans
ses diversités caractéristiques et un moyen d'enrichir en nous-mêmes la notion
du Beau intellectuel et moral à laquelle l'humanité ajoute sans cesse et qu'elle
n'achève jamais.
Il me paraît évident, je le répote, que c'est la littérature qui peut nous donner
celte intelligence profonde des peuples, de ce qu'il y a de plus délicat et de
plus intime dans l'esprit des peuples. Cela est si vrai que, par exemple, pour la
langue que nous savons le mieux et que nous apprenons par la méthode directe,
pour notre langue, supposez un Français qui serait totalement étranger à la
littérature française, qui aurait, parlé le français en France comme nous tous,
qui aurait continué à le parler avec ses compatriotes, qui aurait même lu les
journaux, si vous voulez, et qui arriverait à l'âge d'homme, mais qui ne sau-
rait rien du XVII' siècle, rien du XVIII» siècle, rien de la grande poésie du
XIX= siècle ; quelle idée ce malheureux se ferait-il de la France, de l'esprit fran-
çais, de l'évolution de l'esprit français ? Et même si vous ajoutez à cette connais-
sance pratique de la langue qu'il aurait acquise petit à petit, la connaissance
de certains grands faits de l'histoire, certaines notions sommaires, abstraites à
la fois et insuffisantes, si vous ajoutez cela, que saura-t-il en somme? Bien peu
de chose. La littérature au contraire^ c'est l'image la plus précise, la plus déli-
cate de l'esprit français dans ce qu'il a de plus profond, de plus permanent, de
plus propre ^ et en même temps dans ses changements, dans ses évolutions
incessantes; c'est tout cela que la littérature nous offre, et de la manière la
plus précise en même temps que la plus agréable.
Comment, par la littérature, peut on arriver à saisir cela ? Est ce par une
lecture rapide, superficielle, faite en courant et sans préparation P Non, évidem-
ment ; comprendre à peu près, ce n'est pas comprendre en matière littéraire ^,
car la langue des écrivains vaut surtout par sa richesse et ses nuances; c'est
par là qu'elle est expressive et elle est fort diiîérente de la langue usuelle, de la
langue iDarlée. On a calculé que beaucoup d'hommes se contentaient pendant
toute leur vie de quelques centaines de mots. Faites le total des mots qui
entrent au contraire dans la littérature d'un peuple : ce sont des milliers et des
milliers de mots et qui expriment des nuances infiniment délicales, (|u'on ne
saisit pas du premier coup. 11 y a des Français qui ne comprennent pas le fran-
çais. Chose extraordinaire qui me revient à l'esprit en ce moment : je lisais ces
jours-ci un très beau rapport sur l'agrégation des lettres par le président du
Jury, par un homme d'un esprit infiniment délicat, M. Ernest Dupuy. Savcz-
vous une des choses dont il se plaint le plus? C'est que dans le thème latin et
dans le thème grec, — oh! ce n'est pas qu'on ait fait des solécismcs, il en prend
son parti '" — mais c'est qu'un trop grand nombre de candidats n'ont pas saisi
finement et avec précision la pensée de l'auleur français. Et c'est à l'agrégation
des lettres que cela se passe ! Je ne vous cite cet exemple que pour vous prouver
combien il est dilTicile, même à un Français cultivé, s'il ne fait pas une très
grande attention, de saisir avec exactitude la pensée d'un homme qui sait
écrire, c'est-à-dire une pensée complexe avec toutes ses nuances et ses liaisons
infiniment souples et délicates.
Une lecture superficielle donc ne suffit pas, même en français; à plus forte
raison en anglais, en allemand, en italien, dans toutes les langues étrangères,
lorsque nous avons affaire à une pensée qui n'est pas tout à fait la nôtre, qui
ne procède pas tout à fait de la môme façon, et qu'il faut commencer par nous
assimiler cette manière de concevoir, puis comprendre dans le détail ce voca-
bulaire des écrivains et des j^oètes qui n'est pas celui dont nous nous servons
tous les jours, ces tours de phrases qui ne sont pas non plus la demi-douzaine
de tours de phrases dont nous usons habituellement, mais qui cxpj'iment bien
d'autres choses et plus difficiles à saisir.
8. particulier. — g. en littérature. — lo. il s'y résvjne.
[699]
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
115
Donc une lecture superficielle ne suffît pas; il y faut autre chose, il y faut
un effort qui nous fasse pénétrer à fond dans le texte et nous permette de saisir
dans SCS nuances cette pensée qui est celle d'un homme supérieur et non pas
celle d'un enfant ".
Alfred Croiset.
1 1 . Ce morceau est extrait d'une admiraljle conférence faile à l'Assemblée générale de
la Sociéli' de^ professeurs de langues vienntes de renseif/nement /lublic. Nos lecteurs qui vou-
draient lire celte conférence tout entière la t^ou^e^ont dans la lievue pédagogique du
i5 mars 1908. D'ailleurs la lecture seule de notre morceau montre que cette prose est
faite surtout pour êlre dite.
Élevages singuliers.
^^''7^ -^ "i i/F "^r J^^ >\ i i*^
En Amérique, la mode, en ce moment, est d'avoir, pour animaux d'agré-
ment..., des crocodiles, qu'on laisse errer en liberté dans les jardins ou les serres,
voire même dans les appartements. Ces Reptiles, on le sait, ne sont pas toujours
commodes et ils possèdent vuie bouche dont les fortes dimensions n'ont d'égal
que leur appétit: mais, tant qu'ils restent petits, ils sont assez tolérables, ce
qui permet de les « choyer » pendant longtemps, car leur croissance est si
lente, qu'à quinze ans, leur taille n'atteint pas encore o™,6o de longueur.
L'engouement des Américains pour les crocodiles est tel qu'un industriel,
M. H. Campbell, a créé
une ferme spécialement
destinée à l'élevage de
ces animaux, cepen-
dant peu sympathi-
ques, dont il tire bé-
néfice en les vendant
&\ix Misses excentriques
, s et en exploitant le cuir
' yf J^ ,t,fb'i.3^^ " de ceux qui deviennent
■•r* 'i4?^^.„ t (^fS^^^^%f\r trop vieux. La ferme
'-W'r^mW^- - compte actuellement
-"^ une superficie de cinq
Crocodile. hectares et s'étend sur
les doux rives d'un
ruisseau, dont le cours offre une série de petits lacs.
D'après les renseignements que donne M. Forbin, les adultes, capturés en
Floride, sont parqués par catégories selon leur taille. La sélection est particu-
lièrement méticuleuse à l'égard des jeunes sujets qui, dès les premiers pas hors
du nid ou de la couveuse arlificielle, font preuve d'humeur batailleuse. Pen-
dant longtemps, M. Campbell laissa les mères couver leurs œufs. Les désavan-
tages du système furent reconnus à la longue. Pendant l'incubation, d'une
durée très variable selon l'état de la température, les mères se montraient
agressives, féroces même, attaquant les employés qui pénétraient dans leur
enclos. Maintenant les œufs sont enlevés des nids aussitôt pondus et placés
dans une couveuse.
Les nouveau-nés sont nourris pendant deux ou trois semaines avec de la
viande de bœuf hachée, qui leur est distribuée cinq fois par jour. Les adultes
font un seul repas par jour : le menu, composé exclusivement de viande de
boucherie reconnue insalubre par les services sanitaires des grands abattoirs de
la région, n'est varié que grâce à l'intervention des touristes qui s'amusent à
lancer dans les enclos des poules et des canards achetés aux fermiers voisins.
On pourra se faire une idée des bénéfices réalisés par M. Campbell en apprc-
116 PARTIE FRANÇAISE 1 700]
naiil (ju'il achète, à laison de 20 francs la douzaine, les œufs de crocodiles que
lui apportent les nègres de la campagne, et qu'il vend les petits, deux semaines
après leur naissance, à raison de 20 francs pièce.
Une des attractions de la ferme est constituée par quatre crocodiles longs
de 3 mètres, que leurs gardiens ont habitués à grimper au sommet d'une
plate-forme, d'où ils se laissent glisser sur un tobogan dont la base repose au
milieu d'une mare.
Je ne crois pas que la mode d'élever des ciocodiles soit près de s'implanter
chez nous. Mais il n'en est pas de même de l'élevage d'autres reptiles, pratiqué
l)ar les Japonais, et qu'il serait bien amusant de tenter en France. 11 s'agit de
mignonnes petites tortues — à l'humeur débonnaire — dont les Japonais pra-
tiquent la multiplication dans un des faubourgs de ïokio.
D'après les renseignements que donne iM. Bourgeois, chaque bassin est
entouré, à une certaine distance de l'eau, par une cloison de planches, portant
en haut un rebord, et s'enfonçant d'autre part en terre à une certaine profon-
deur, pour empêcher les tortues de passer par-dessus ou par-dessous en creu-
sant la terre. Dans un bassin spécial pour les tortues adultes, on entretient en
très bon état une des berges, celle que le soleil chauffe le plus longtemps, et
on la laboure soigneusement au printemps, pour que les animaux y puissent
creuser aisément : de mai à août, chaque femelle vient faire de 2 à 4 pontes.
Elle cherche d'abord l'endroit qui lui convient, creuse le trou avec ses pattes
de derrière, de façon vigoureuse, et en projetant parfois la terre à 2 et 3 mètres;
le trou mesure 8 à lo centimètres de largeur pour 10 de profondeur. Puis elle
pond de 17 à 28 œufs, à joeu près sphériques, de 20 millimètres de diamètre,
et les recouvre soigneusement en ramenant toute la terre qu'elle jDeut attein-
dre; elle la piétine quelque peu et retourne immédiatement à leau.
L'emplacement de la ponte est aisé à reconnaître, et un employé spécial,
qui passe une fois par jour, le recouvre d'une sorte de panier en toile métal-
lique, ce qui permet de surveiller l'incubation et l'éclosion, et empêche qu'une
autre ponte vienne se faire au même endroit.
Il suffît généralement d'une soixantaine de jours pour que les œufs soient
suffisamment couvés par l'effet de la chaleur solaire. II faut empêcher que les
jeunes aillent dans le bassin de leurs parents, car ils lisqueraienl de s'y faire
dévorer.
De place en place sont enterrés dans le sol des vases en terre pleins d'eau,
dont l'ouverture est au niveau du sol. C'est là que les jeunes sortis de terre se
rendent. On les recueille quotidiennement pour les porter dans un bassin spé-
cial, où on les nourrit avec de la chair de poisson telle quelle ou des coquil-
lages légèrement broyés. On a remarqué que les tortues se trouvent très bien
de la présence de carpes ou d'anguilles dans leurs bassins, parce que ces pois-
sons agitent la vase, et que la tortue ne s'aventure guère à chercher sa nourri-
ture dans une eau trop transparente.
A 3 ou 5 ans, on met fin à leur existence calme en les mangeant telles quelles
ou en en faisant d'excellents potages.
Henri Colpin.
Soir d'automne.
.)'ai refait le chemin qui conduit au vieux mur,
Où j'aimais à m'asseoir lorsque, las de létude,
J'allais chercher plus loin un peu de solitude,
Altéré que j'étais de silence et d'air pur.
Les ronces de la route étaient pleines de mûres
Telles que j'en cueillais lorsque j'étais enfant,
l701] PAKTIE FRANÇAISE li;
Et tout comme jadis, le doux souflle du vent
Du ruisseau chuchoteur m'apportait les murmuras.
J'ai revu le sentier tout embaumé de fleurs
Et j'ai marché longtemps, pendant plus d'une lieue,
Tandis qu'autour de moi, dans la lumière bleue,
S'éparpillait le vol des insectes frolcurs.
Malgré le temps enfin bien loin de leur présence.
C'était encor pour moi, dans la tiède saison,
Et les mêmes senteurs, et le même horizon,
Dont mon àme gardait la chère souvenance.
Triste et comme accablé de fatigue et d'ennui,
Un troupeau, lentement, descendait vers la plaine.
Et le pâtre leva son vieux bonnet de laine.
Lorsque, montant toujours, je passai près de lui.
Puis j'atteignis l'endroit tranquille et solitaire.
Dont le moindre détail était connu de moi.
Et le cœur tout remph d'un indicible émoi,
Je ne pus que rêver, et ne sus que me taire.
Alors, comme autrefois, pensif, je fus m'asseoir
Sur le bord écroulé de la muraille grise,
D'où j'aperçus au loin le clocher de l'église
Qui tintait doucement dans le calme du soir.
Emile Boucher.
Le coussin de la comtesse Confalonieri *.
La comtesse Thérèse Casati Confalonieri était venue à Vienne pour obte-
nir la grâce de son mari '. Le jour où la fatale décision avait été prise un
courrier était parti à minuit, porteur de la sentence de mort. L'impératrice,
bonne et charitable, envoya à la comtesse un chambellan pour qu'il lui
exprimât, par son silence plein de dignité, toute la douleur de l'angélique
souveraine de ne pas avoir obtenu la vie sauve. Malgré l'heure très avan-
cée, Thérèse Confalonieri vola au palais en voiture; l'impératrice qui s'était
déjà retirée dans ses appartements ne put refuser de la recevoir. La malheu-
reuse femme pleura, pleura, et son déchirement était si irrésistible que
l'impératrice tout en désordre courut chez l'empereur et après quelque
temps (quel siècle d'angoisse ce dut être pour Thérèse !) revint avec la
grâce.
Vite, vite ; il fallait rejoindre le courrier, le dépasser, — il portait la sen-
tence de mort ! Thérèse se jette dans une voiture et sans jamais s'arrêter,
payant les postillons quatre et six fois leur prix, prenant quelques boissons
pour toute nourriture, arrive à Milan à temps, et Frédéric ne monta pas
sur l'échafaud .
A'oir les quatre autres parties.
. Le comte Frédéric Confalonieri condamné par l'Autriche pour carbonarisme.
118 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [702]
Pendant le voyage elle avait reposé la tête sur un petit coussin qu'elle
avait mouillé de ses larmes ; ces larmes c'était tour à tour l'anxiélé mor-
telle de ne pas arriver à temps, l'espérance, l'amour conjugal qui les lui
avaient fait verser.
Ce confident du moment le plus tragique et le plus solennel dans la vie
des deux époux, fut déposé entre les mains des juges de PVédéric qui l'a-
vaient condamné à mort ; ceux-ci le remirent religieusement au mari sau-
vé. 11 l'emporta au Spielberg. Là, dépouillé de ses vêtements, enchaîné,
gisant sur la paille, privé de toute les aises de la vie, il ne se sépara jamais
du petit coussin. . .
Pierre Maroincelli -.
2. Compagnon de captivité du poète Silvio Pellico et du comte Confalonieri .
Contes de la Vieille France *
\
L'oiseau bleu.
Là où, entre les arbres, coule en susurrant la Liane, là où, comme un
nid dans la verdure, se trouve aujourd'hui, près de Boulogne-su r-AIer. le
village de Pont-de-Briques, se dressait un monastère, il y a longtemps,
bien longtemps. Les moines y vivaient dans une paix qui n'était troublée
ni par les tempêtes, car elles passaient par-dessus les collines, ni par les
hommes, car aucune maison n'existait aux alentours. Un bois épais aux
senteurs sauvages le garantissait des bruits humains, et même le souffle
rude de la mer n'arrivait pas à ses murailles. Le silence régnait dans cette
retraite, rompu seulement par le frémissement des feuillages, le murmure
des oraisons et le tintement grêle de l'angélus. Et dans l'àme de ses hôtes
régnait aussi la foi, limpide comme l'eau de la Liane, inébranlable comme
les gros arbres, fraîche et parfumée comme le pays environnant.
Un de ces moines, pourtant, tout au fond de lui-même, était moins
tranquille que ses compagnons. Sans doute, à la chapelle, il chantait les
cantiques d'une voix sonore et se prosternait aussi bas que les autres. Ses
propos étaient pieux et ses adorations sincères. Fallait-il fendre du bois,
tirer de l'eau, bêcher un carré de jardin? Il s'accjuittait de sa besogne avec
bonne humeur. Il mangeait avec appétit au réfectoire et dormait dans sa
cellule d'un sommeil profond, ce qui n'indique pas une mauvaise
conscience. Cependant il n'était point parfaitement heureux, car un doute
était en lui. Ce doute portait sur un point, un seul: « Comment, se disait-
il, l'éternelle félicité promise aux élus ne deviendrait-elle pas monotone à
la longue? D'abord, évidemment, la béatitude doit être inexprimable.
Mais après deux, trois, dix, vingt siècles n'y a-t-il pas quelque fatigue,
peut-être un peu d'ennui, tout au moins une diminution de bonheur? Ici-
bas les joies les plus enivrantes perdent vite tout leur charme; ici-bas on
se lasse du soleil, du printemps, des fleurs, de tout ; au paradis ne se
lasse-t-on jamais ? » Et quand il s'était dit ces choses, le moine, honteux
• Voir les n^s 5, 8, ii et i3.
[703] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 119
de lui-même, allait demander pardon à la A'ierge pour cette coupable pen-
sée, ^lais le lendemain la pensée coupable revenait, comme une mouche
qu'on chasse de la main et qui rôde obstinément autour de vous.
Un matin de mai, il promenait sa rêverie dans le bois. A travers le
feuillage vert tendre se voyait l'azur délicat du firmament ; un frais soleil,
passant parmi les branches, faisait scintiller la rosée sur l'herbe Une et les
cailloux du sentier. Il marcha longtemps, l'esprit préoccupé, sans regar-
der la nature printanière, sans écouter le ruissellement des sources, sans
songera remercier Dieu, comme d'ordinaire, pour avoir fait le monde si
beau. Il arriva enfin sur la berge de la Liane ; la rivière jolie, où glissaient
parfois des poissons d'argent, où vibraient comme des rubans les plantes
d'eau, élincelait sous la lumière, tournait, puis, un peu plus loin, disparais-
sait sous une voûte verte entre des saules. Il s'adossa à un gros chêne ; il
croisa les bras dans les amples manches de sa robe ; il continua d'évaluer
la durée possible et l'intensité des plaisirs éternels ; et, machinalement,
il regardait l'espace clair encadré par les cimes frissonnantes des arbres.
Tout à coup il aperçut très haut, très haut, un point mobile ; ce point
grossit et se rapprocha : c'était un oiseau, d'espèce inconnue, de forme
élégante, et dont le plumage était d'un bleu si exquis qu'on aurait cru voir
voler un morceau de ciel. Intéressé, le moine le suivit de l'œil ; l'oiseau,
après avoir décrit deux ou trois cercles en l'air, se posa sur une grosse
branche du vieux chêne, se lissa les plumes d'un geste vif et gracieux et
se mit à chanter. Il chanta presque timidement d'abord, puis, peu à peu,
à plein gosier, et ce chant était d'une mélodie si rare, d'une telle variété,
d'une suavité si pénétrante, que le bois tout entier parut attentif, que la
Liane ne coula plus, que les feuilles ne remuèrent plus, que les autres
oiseaux restèrent muets au bord de leurs nids et que le moine lui-même
oublia sa mélancolie pour écouter. Et non seulement il oublia la pensée
qui l'attristait, la nature caressante qui l'entourait, les exercices de piété
dont le moment allait venir, mais encore il s'oublia lui-même : pris tout
entier par cette musique ineffable, respirant à peine, insensible à la fatigue
de l'immobilité, sans s'apercevoir de la fuite des heures, il s'abandonna à
cette sensation nouvelle ; il fut comme une tleur tombée dans un ruisselet
et que le courant emporte, comme un fil de la Merge que les vents balan-
cent à leur gré sur une prairie, comme une épave qui Hotte sur la mer et
dont se jouent les vagues. Il ne vécut plus que par l'ouïe, dans une extase
sans nom.
Brusquement l'oiseau bleu s'interrompit et s'envola. Le moine revint à
lui et, avec stupeur, constata que le soleil était déjà bas sur l'horizon.
Qu'allaient dire ses frères? Il s'élança, mais avec difficulté, probablement,
pensa-t-il, parce que ses jambes étaient engourdies. Après quelques pas,
il se trouva hors de la forêt. Il s'était donc trompé de chemin ') Mais non,
là-bas, au bout d'une large route qu'il ne reconnaissait point, parmi des
champs de blé, il reconnaissait bien l'entrée et le clocher du couvent,
Ivêvait-il ? Ou quel miracle avait en un jour supprimé taillis et futaies, percé
cette large route, bâti ces chaumières, semé et fait croître ce blé ? Il renonça
à comprendre, hâta sa marche de plus en plus pénible, sonna, et, de plus
en plus stupéfait, lorsque la porte fut ouverte, se trouva devant un nou-
veau portier.
— Que désirez-vous, mon père? demanda poliment celui-ci.
— Mais je rentre, après être sorti ce matin.
120 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [704]
Le frère portier eut lair extraordinairement surpris.
— ^lon père, si vous ne vous raillez pas de moi, vous êtes dans l'erreur.
Voilà dix ans que je suis ici, et je ne vous ai jamais vu.
Il dit, et, un peu inquiet, fit mine de refermer la porte sur Tintrus.
Cependant, comme celui-ci, éploré, ne quittait pas le seuil et persistait
dans ses affirmations, il alla chercher le prieur. Encore une nouvelle
figure ! Notre moine abasourdi raconta son histoire ; on fit venir le frère
lecteur, le frère sonneur, le frère trésorier, le frère cuisinier, tous les frères,
l'un après l'autre : personne ne le reconnut et il ne reconnut personne.
Qu'est-ce que cela signifiait ? Enfin arriva un dernier frère, courbé, chauve,
à moitié paralysé, et plus qu'octogénaire. D'une voix chevrotante et cassée
il demanda :
— Comment vous appelez- vous ?
— On m'appelait frère Eusèbe, dit le malheureux qui, tremblant,éperdu,
ne savait plus lui-même que croire.
— Frère Eusèbe!... Frère Eusèbe!... attendez... jadis, dans ma jeu-
nesse, on m'en a parlé... Il partit un matin et ne revint plus... On le
regretta car il chantait bien au lutrin... Voilà, oui, cent ans de cela, au
moins.
Cent ans ! Frère Eusèbe poussa un cri. Il baissa les yeux et vit qu'une
barbe blanche inondait sa poitrine, que ses mains étaient décharnées comme
celles d'un squelette. Il comprit que ses doutes d'autrefois étaient une
offense à la toute-puissance divine et que Dieu le lui avait prouvé en lui
faisant prendre un siècle pour une journée. Il tomba sur ses genoux débiles,
joignit ses vieilles mains et murmura en pleurant son acte de contrition.
Alors, sur le mur, dans sa niche, la statue de la Vierge sembla sourire
maternellement ; une invisible main fit tinter la cloche de l'angélus ; des
parfums délicieux se répandirent dans l'air ; les derniers rayons du soleil
couchant formèrent au-dessus du vieillard une auréole. Tous les moines se
prosternèrent et lui, au milieu d'eux, transfiguré par une joie céleste, se
renversa sur le pavé et mourut doucement.
Max Jasinski.
Déguisement macabre.
La gaîté change de forme selon les latitudes. Un soir de Mi-Carème, sur
les bords de la Tamise, certain lord facétieux apparut dans un bal,
déguisé en cercueil. Ses pieds se dissimulaient sous une draperie noire, et
son corps était enveloppé d'une bière, au-dessus de laquelle apparaissait
la tête blafarde du joyeux insulaire.
Ce lugubre travestissement jeta le trouble parmi la fête, et les masques,
attroupés autour du lord au tombeau, menacèrent d'exterminer le faux
mort et de porter réellement en terre le pseudo-cercueil.
Inquiet, le milord sauta hors de sa bière, et déguerpit à toutes jambes,
drapé de ses longs voiles blancs.
L'incident fit du bruit, la mode de ce funèbre déguisement se répandit,
et cette saison-là, on ne vit plus que cercueils ambulants à Londres
durant tout le carnaval.
Ça devait être gai !
Les Cinq Langues
N" 16. 20 Mai 1908. ge Année.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
Emile Gebhart.
L'Académie française vient de perdre un de ses membres, M. Emile Gebhart, qui était
à la fois, chose assez rare, bon érudit et excellent écrivain. A ses funérailles^ M. de
Foxille, président de V Académie des sciences morales et politiques a remarquablement
caractérisé l'homme et son talent. Voici un extrait de son discours :
L'enveloppe', chez Gebhart, semblait un peu rude, un peu lourde, un peu
froide aussi, au premier abord ; mais il s'y cachait un esprit singulièrement
alerte et fin, une imagination des plus souples et des plus riches, une réelle
et vive sensibilité. Il savait aimer ; il savait haïr. Prêt à tous les déAOuements,
il était également prêt à toutes les hardiesses, même à celles qui peuvent
déplaire, quand il croyait avoir à défendre une juste cause. Dans son ardent
patriotisme se confondaient harmonieusement l'amour de la petite patrie lor-
raine - et l'amour de la grande patrie française. Il avait voué aussi une ten-
dresse quasi filiale à ces beaux pays ensoleillés c[ue la Méditerranée baigne et
dont il avait reçu la mission spéciale de révéler à ses auditeurs de la Sorbonne
les multiples littératures.
L'École française d'Athènes lui avait facilité le culte fervent de l'art grec.
L'Espagne lui était devenue familière. Mais ce fut surtout l'Italie qui l'attira
toujours irrésistiblement. De bonne heure, elle l'avait conquis, et il l'avait
conquise. Il en connaissait toutes les beautés naturelles et tous les trésors
artistiques. Il n'ignorait rien de « ce qu'y racontent les vieilles pierres » — le
mot est de lui — et les physionomies elles-mêmes lui parlaient là-bas un lan-
gage dont il ne se lassait pas de scruter les nuances. Ses yeux savaient, à pre-
mière vue, distinguer un Toscan d'un Vénitien, un Piémontais d'un Lom-
l)ard, les gens de Rome de ceux de Naples ou de Palerme. Et il ne discernait
pas moins sûrement les époques que les races.
Le passé, tous les passés successifs de la péninsule ^ lui étaient comme 2)ré-
sents. Il savait l'histoire, voire même * la chronique de chaque cité, de chaque
règne, de chaque guerre ou de cliaque révolution, et c'était merveille ■' de lui
voir ressusciter, avec leurs costumes, avec leurs gestes, avec leurs cris, avec
leuis passions et avec leurs violences les grands et petits personnages d'il y a
quatre, cinq ou six cents ans : princes et prélats, capitaines et diplomates,
pèlerins et artistes, soldats mercenaires et moines turbulents... Il a su faire
également revivre les grands mystiques du moyen âge, les âmes candides, alté-
rées d'idéal d'un François d'Assise ou d'une Catherine de Sienne.
Et comment ne pas rappeler, maintenant que nous y pouvons surprendre
l'image des évolutions de sa propre pensée, les pages symboliques où Gebhart
nous racontait la miraculeuse odyssée de ces quinze moines irlandais qui, il
y a quelque douze cents ans, cherchèrent pendant sept années, au fond des
mers occidentales, l'île paradisiaque, le séjour des bienheureux, et qui, après
mille détours et mille péripéties finirent, un soir, par en toucher le seuil ?
I. l'aspect extérieur. — a. Gebhart était né à Nancy. — 3. La péninsule italienne,
naturellement. — !i . et même. — 5. c'était une chose admirable.
[94] FBANÇ. 16
122 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [746]
Gebhart restera l'un des peintres les plus autorisés c, les plus touchants de
la \'ie des cloîtres. Plus d'une fois, après l'aA'oir écouté ou lu, ses confrères se
plaisaient à se le représenter, portant lui-même la robe de bure blanche ou
brune et promenant dans les jardins de quelque lointaine abbaye ses éclec-
tiques méditations.
11 savait cependant, à l'occasion, redevenir le plus parisien des Parisiens.
Il fut aussi un académicien zélé et, lorsque vint son tour, un président modèle...
6. qui avaient le plus d'autorité, le plus de prestige.
La Mort d'Agrippine.
Comme la fille de Germanicus ' s'en allait à Baïa^, afin de passer, au bord
du golfe charmant, à l'ombre de ses lauriers-roses, les semaines brûlantes de
l'été, Trimalchion acheta une maison de campagne qui. de l'autre rive, faisait
face à la villa de l'impératrice.
Chaque soir, après le coucher du soleil, Agrippine montait sur un navire de
plaisance et piolongeait fort avant dans la nuit sa promenade lente, rêveuse,
jusqu'au promontoire de Misène, jusqu'en vue des rochers de Caprée. Elle se
tenait, au seuil de la chambie de poupe ^, à demi couchée ou accoudée sur
des coussins, entourée de ses femmes, taciturne, bcixée par la cadence des
rames, le regard immobile, parfois douloureux, attaché aux étoiles comme au
chiffre * mystérieux de sa destinée. Et, chaque soir, une chaloupe aux rames
dorées, éclairée par des torches odorantes, toute sonore du chant des flûtes et
des lyres, filait^ sous la proue de la nef '' impériale et jetait sur le miroir de
l'onde des brassées de feuillages et de fleurs. Puis les rames se relevaient, ruisse-
lantes, et l'harmonieuse chaloupe se rangeait à l'écart et s'arrêtait. Debout près
du gouvernail, dévotement ^ incliné, Trimalchion contemplait la majesté
mélancolique du navire voguant vers la haute mer. Alors les rames dorées
s'abaissaient et la barque i^ortant la fortune ^ de Trimalchion s'élançait à la
suite d'Agrippine. Dans l'émeraude sombre du sillage, la lueur empourprée des
torches versait une traînée sanglante.
Mais l'altière impératrice, les yeux obstinément attachés au ciel, jamais ne
récompensait ni d'un sourire ni d'un regard l'ingénieux courtisan qui, pour
lui rendre hommage, dépouillait de leurs roses les jardins de Prestum.
Par une nuit très douce, une nuit divine, semée d'étoiles, Agrippine parut
à l'afTranchi ■> plus pâle que de coutume. Elle était vêtue d'une robe couleur
de violette, lamée d'or ; un long voile blanc cachait sa chevelure noire. Accou-
dée au lit de repos, le front anxieusement tourné vers la chambre de poupe,
elle semblait prêter l'oreille au bruit de quelque manœuvre inattendue. Tri-
malchion crut qu'elle découvrait enûn la présence de son humble ami. Il fit
avancer la chaloupe fleurie, tandis que ses esclaves élevaient par-dessus leurs
têtes les torches parfumées. Alors Agrippine se redressa, tendit les mains vers
l'affranchi, puis retomba sur les coussins, comme abattue par l'épouvante. Le
vaisseau de plaisance'» brusquement traçait un vaste demi-cercle, déployait
ses voiles au vent du large et revenait en arrière vers la rive de Baïa. Les rameurs
de Trimalchion précipitèrent leurs elTorts. Tout à coup éclata un horrible fra-
I. Agriiipirie, mère de l'empereur Néron. — 2. Sur le golfe de Pouzzoles. C'était la
station balnéaire à la mode cliez les Romains. — 3. Sorte déliante cabine qui se trou-
vait à l'arrière sur les vaisseaux antiques. — /i. comme à des signes qui indiquaient sa des-
tinée. — 5. allait rapidement. — 6. navire. Vieilli dans ce sens. — 7. avec unrespect presque
pieux. — 8. portant les espérances d'avenir. — g. Trimalchion est un ancien esclave affran-
chi. — To. Celui d'.\grippine, naturellement'.
[747] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 123
cas. La chambre de poupe, écrasée par une masse de plomb, s'abîmait. Des
clameurs de détresse, la supplication des femmes, des corps jetés à la mer, une
lutte effroyable à coups de rame sur le pont du navire, des râles d'agonie, puis
un grand silence. Des lumières volaient follement à travers les jardins des villas ;
des ombres se heurtaient le long du rivage. .Maintenant le vaisseau, changeant
encore de route, la proue haute et la poupe à demi engloutie, courait s'échouer
sur la plage sablonneuse, près du temple de la Sibylle ". Mais Trimalchion ne
quittait pas du regard une femme voilée de blanc qui, silencieusement, nageait,
soutenue par un matelot. La chaloupe redoubla de vitesse du côté de '^ la
naufragée .
Agrippine, solitaire, chancelante, disparut parmi les noirs cyprès de sa villa.
Trimalchion bondit sur la rive et pénétra dans les jardins. Il s'égara quelque
temps aux 13 allées tortueuses, arrêté par les haies du buis, par les arbres, les
socles des statues. Le parc semblait abandonné. Mais, au fond des ténèbres,
une voix grêle d'enfant, accompagnée d'un chalumeau de pâtre, chantait sur
un ton joyeux des paroles grecques. L'affranchi, à tâtons, rencontrait enfin le
palais. Sur les degrés de marbre, il foulait aux pieds ^'•- le voile blanc trempé
d'eau. Personne ne veillait au seuil. Il poussa la porte de bronze qui tourna
sur ses gonds avec un grondement prolongé. La cour, où fleurissait un par-
terre de rosesj le portique intérieur, tout blanc de statues, étaient déserts.
Mais une voix, une parole terrible, retentit tout près du visiteur :
— Au ventre! frappe au ventre ! *•'
Trimalchion souleva violemment une lourde tenture. La robe impériale, la
l'obe violette lamée d'or, gisait, hâtivement dépouillée, à l'entrée de la cham-
bre où brûlait une petite lampe d'airain. En travers du lit, la fille de Germa-
nicus, la face voilée par le désordre de sa chevelure, la poitrine inondée de
sang, palpitait, mourante.
Par une porte dérobée, un prétorien se relirait d'un pas tranquille.
Trimalchion s'enfuit du palais. Il se perdit de nouveau parmi les détours du
jardin. Mais, dans le mystère des bosquets, la jeune voix chantait toujours et
le chalumeau rustique l'accompagnait encore de sa musique enfantine. L'affran-
chi marcha droit à l'étrange concert, afin d'apercevoir d'innocentes créatures.
Il retrouva tout aussitôt la grande avenue de la villa. Ici venait de passer
Agrippine poursuivie par l'assassin. Au bord de cette allée, vaguement éclairé
par une lanterne de batelier enfouie sous les feuillages, assis, entre deux
enfants grecs, sur un chapiteau de marbre, drapé en sa chlamyde "^ athénienne,
>éron souriait aux iietits musiciens et, de sa main où luisait l'anneau de l'Em-
pire, marquait la mesure pour une idylle de Théocrite.
Trimalchion, saisi d'efîroi, comprit le drame et s'arrêta. Le parricide battit
des paupières tel qu'un oiseau de nuit, laissa retomber sa main et, d'une voix
rauque^ saccadée, il dit en langage de populace :
— Un de vadis ? *''
— D'où je viens? répliqua l'affranchi. Gravissons tous deux l'escalier de ce
palais, je guiderai tes pas le long des portiques et tu sauras alors d'où je viens.
— Tout à l'heure, après le chant de l'idylle, répondit Néron.
Et les paroles siciliennes et la plainte amoureuse du chalumeau résonnèrent
une fois encore sous la futaie murmurante des lauriers-roses.
Trimalchion s'élança hors de la villa tragique. Les torches de sa chaloupe
étaient éteintes, ses lyres et ses flûtes muettes. Mais les étoiles tremblaient dans
l'azur immense et les ondes paresseuses du golfe berçaient lentement les splen-
deurs du ciel. '^
Emile Gebhart.
u. A dîmes, par conséquent. — 12. en se dirigeant vers... — i3. dans les. — i!\. il
marchait sur. — i5. On sait que ce sont les paroles authentiques d'Agripplne : elle ne
voulait pas sans doute ùtre défigurée, même après sa mort. — 16. Sorte de manteau.
— 17. d'au viens-tu? — 18. Extrait d'un très bel ouvrage : d'Uhjsse à Panurge, igoS.
Paris, Hachette.
124
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
[748]
Notes de voyage.
I
Dakar, le 14 Juillet.
D'abord c'est une satisfaction de constater les progrès l'éalisés à Dakar : treize
ans ont passé depuis que nous y avons pour la première fois fait escale * ; le
port et la ville sont méconnaissables. Sur ce coin d'Afrique jadis desséché et
Dakar. — l.a fêle du 11 •luillct.
aride, on a, par d'intelligents travaux, amené l'eau bienfaisante ; des arbres ont
grandi ; un peu d'ombre adoucit la crudité d'une lumière vive, et, dans les lar-
ges avenues, on goûte le charme réel d'un coloris chatoyant : les indigènes
sont vêtus d'étoffes aux couleurs presque discrètes ; il y a des gammes de bleus ^
qui demeurent harmonieuses malgré le voisinage d'une écharpe trop jaune,
d'une large chéchia ou d'un turban vert.
La foule est joyeuse et s'empresse vers la grande place, car on célèbre le i4
juillet et, ici comme en France, il convient d'affirmer la foi républicaine ^ eu
dressant des mâts de cocagne, en organisant des courses en sacs, jeux de
baquets '*et autres divertissements.
Quel rire éclatant ont les noirs '^ ! On ne sait vraiment pas ce que peut être
le rire large, épanoui, le rire inextinguible, le rire bruyant, sonore et sans
réserve quand on n'a pas vu des nègres s'esclaffer <>, se tordre et sauter de joie
gourmande pour attraper au vol des gâteaux secs lancés en signe de bombance.
Or, tandis que sur la place enguirlandée et pavoisée s'ébaubit ^ ainsi la
foule exubérante, là, tout près, sur le trottoir d'une rue déserte, est accroupi
près de son bâton un enfant aveugle et fou qui, les yeux vides levés vers le ciel,
I. depuis que notre vaisseau y a abordé. — a. des nuances successives de bleu. — 3. ses
convictions républicaines . — l^. Noms de divers jeux populaires. — 5. les nègres. — G.
éclater de rire. — 7. s'amuse.
[749] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 123
chante à tue-tête ^ des mélopées étranges. Indifférent à tous et de tous ignoré,
il s'entretient seulement avec les dieux auxquels il adresse ses ferveurs ^ ;
et qui sait si ses prunelles éteintes ne voient pas dans l'infini du rêve des mer-
veilles que nul de ceux qui heurtent l'infirme d'un pied dédaigneux ne saurait
même imaginer ?
Mais le soleil se fait encore plus chaud ; la promenade devient fatigante :
l'heure est venue de rentrer à bord '", non sans avoir salué au passage un
vieillard souriant et débonnaire qu'on nous présente comme un roi déchu, et
qui n'hésite pas à remplacer les ressources d'une liste civile ", maintenant dis-
parue, par un impôt de quelques sous, prélevé sur les photographes amateurs
désireux de fixer sur leurs plaques les traits augustes et quelque peu défraîchis
de ses femmes et de ses filles, reines et princesses (p. 24).
La pampa.
Dans les environs de Buenos Ayres et de Rosario, la pampa acquiert déjà le
riant aspect d'une vaste plaine admirablement cultivée où paissent béatement
d'innombrables troupeaux, où les charrues à trois ou quati'e socs tracent leurs
profonds sillons, où s'élèvent çà et là les blanches murailles des fermes, où se
projette l'ombre des paraisos, sorte de saules au feuillage d'un vert tendre et à
la silhouette harmonieuse.
Mais, plus loin, la pampa donne mieux que l'océan la sensation de l'infini.
L'océan a ses lames ''^ qui s'élèvent, qui s'abaissent, qui se poursuivent : il
vit, il change, il remue, il a ses colères et ses apaisements. La pampa, elle, est
immuable et morne : rien n'arrête le regard jusqu'à la ligne d'horizon ; pas
un arbre, pas un buisson, pas un mouvement '^ du sol, pas un rocher, pas
même une pierre : c'est la terre sèche, aride, revèche, couverte seulement d'une
herbe i-are, poussiéreuse et rude. C'est la solitude absolue, le silence que rien
ne saurait troubler ; c'est l'infini d'un ciel qui n'aurait ni nuages ni étoiles.
Cela est imposant et lugubre, magnifique et désolant, émouvant et hostile. Il
semble que si, par impossible, l'abandon d'un train vous y laissait soudain, on
mourrait immédiatement d'épuisement et de désespérance, tant l'effort paraî-
trait vain de tenter de franchir ces solitudes sans limites.
La nuit vient et ajoute encore sa pesante obscurité à une impression qui se
fait angoissante ; à toute vitesse nous roulons maintenant à travers l'immen-
sité.
Parfois le train s'arrête : c'est une station perdue '•^ le long des rails et qu'é-
claire faiblement le lumignon d'une modeste lanterne. Nous y apportons une
minute la vie, l'activité, le bruit des conversations, l'éclat de nos lampes électri-
ques, et nous repartons, laissant là, pour le service de la petite gare, un hom-
me, deux peut-être, qui, quand le roulement du train se sera tu dans l'éloi-
gnement, doivent épiouver — j'imagine — qu'ils sont comme retranchés de
l'humanité, comme enlizés dans le désert jusqu'à l'ariivée du prochain con-
voi...
Mais la nuit est passée et nous ne retrouvons plus la pampa au réveil. Main-
tenant nous traversons une forêt clairsemée, où, çà et là, de beaux arbres
dominent les broussailles : les gares sont plus rapprochées les unes des autres,
et on aperçoit de temps en temps les huttes des bûcherons... (p. 374).
Henri Turot '^,
8. de toutes ses forces. — 9. ses ferventes prières. — 10. sur le vaisseau. — ii._ appoin-
tements royaux. — 12. ses vagues. — i3. une ondulation. — i/i. lointaine et isolée. — i5.
Ces deux morceaux donneront une idée de l'intérêt de l'ouvrage : En Amérique latine,
chez Vuibert et Nony, 1908.
126 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [750J
L'Idéal.
Pour trouver à la vie un goût plus savoureux ',
11 faut se proposer toujours de grandes choses,
Chercher de nobles buts, loin des esprits moroses
Qui méprisent les cœurs ardents et généreux.
Si nous sommes exclus du banquet des heui'eux,
11 faut pieusement garder en nos mains closes,
Comme un bouquet formé de lis blancs et de roses,
Les rêves qui nous font prêts à mourir pour eux.
Et lorsque dans la nuit la solitude immense
Laisse entendre ces mots qui troublent le silence :
« Vous avez tout perdu, le sacrifice est vain ! »
Il faut se recueillir -, puis rallumer la flamme
En laissant consumer tout le bonheur humain ^
Et, jusqu'au dernier jour, y réchauffer son âme.
[Vers les Sommets* .) Emilie Arnal.
I. pour que la vie paraisse plus agréable. — 2. méditer sur nous-mêmes. — 3. nous rési-
gner à sacrifier le honkeur sur la terre.
* Voir dans le Supplément un compte rendu de cet ouvrage
Goethe
Ce qui caractérise Gœthe aux yeux des lecteurs français et anglais, c'est
une qualité qu'il partage avec sa nation : l'habitude de se référer à la vérité
intérieure. En Angleterre et en Amérique on a de l'estime pour le talent ;
et lorsqu'il se met au service d'intérêts ou de partis reconnus ou dont
l'existence est compréhensible, ou bien lorsqu'il leur livre une lutte régu-
lière, le public est satisfait. En France, le plaisir que procure en elle-
même la manifestation de brillantes facultés intellectuelles est plus grand
encore. Et, dans tous ces pays, des hommes de talent écrivent parce qu'ils
ont du talent. Il suffit que l'intelligence soit occupée, que le goût soit
satisfait, qu'un certain nombre de pages, un certain nombre d'heures soient
remplis d'une façon intéressante et convenable. L'esprit allemand n'a pas
la vivacité française, le délicat sens pratique des Anglais, l'esprit
d'aventure des Américains, mais il a une certaine probité qui ne s'arrête
jamais à la surface, à l'exécution et demande toujours : A quelle fin') Le
public allemand exige la suprématie de la sincérité. Voilà une pensée
active: mais que se propose-t-elle ? Qu'est-ce que cet homme veut dire ?
D'où viennent toutes ces pensées, quelle en est la source ?
Le talent seul ne saurait constituer l'écrivain. Il faut que derrière le
livre se trouve un homme, une personnalité qui, de par sa naissance et
son caractère, soit inféodée aux doctrines qu'elle expose, qui existe pour
Voir les quatre autres parties.
[751] PARTIE FRANÇAISE
127
voir et représenter les choses de telle manière et non de telle aiitre^ s'atta-
chant à elles pour elles-mêmes.
S'il ne peut s'exprimer convenablement aujourd'hui, les mêmes objets
subsistent et se révéleront à lui demain. Un fardeau pèse sur son âme :
le fardeau de la vérité qu'il doit proclamer — qu'il l'ait comprise peu ou
prou. Sa tâche et sa vocation en ce monde, c'est de comprendre ces cho-
ses et de les faire connaître. Qu'importe s'il trébuche, s'il bégaie, que sa
voix soit rude et sifflante, que sa méthode ou ses tropes ' soient insuffi-
sants ? Le message trouvera bien tout seul méthode et images, expression
et harmonie. Et quand le truchement serait muet, le message parlerait
pour lui. Mais s'il n'en est pas ainsi, si le verbe de Dieu ne vit pas en cet
homme, que nous fait qu'il soit adroit, disert et brillant?
{A suivre.) Emerson.
I. images, figures de mots.
Le merle.
Ce morceau est extrait d'une causerie parue dans le CicEROiSE de Boulognc-
sur-Mer. Nos lecteurs en goûteront la douce ironie et la délicate sensibilité.
Dans le matin froid, j'ai guetté le merle, le merle qui tous les ans revient
dans les jardins, nus encore, d'où émergent surtout les murets' de clôture.
L'habit noir de l'oiseau ne se détache pas très bien sur les arbres sans
feuilles dont le bois est couleur de suie. Mais son bec fait une petite tache
jaune parmi les petites taches vertes des bourgeons. Je ne suis pas très sûr
de la petite tache jaune ; peut-être n'est-ce, après tout, que la hantise- du
nankin^ de nos pères qui me la fait voir. Quand il descend dans les allées,
fraîchement ratissées pour une première toilette, je le vois beaucoup mieux
et je suis son petit manège. Sans doute, il fait son nid, car en une heure
ou deux, à peine, il a arraché toute une bordure de je ne sais quelle herbe
sèche que le jardinier avait pourtantrespectée. Surhuit mètres de long, sans
en emporter d'abord une brindille, il a couché sa glanée sur le gravier au bord
du chemin. En deux ou trois petits coups secs, il arrachait à gauche, sau-
tillait, faisait demi-tour, et posait sa becquée régulièrement à droite. Dans
cette contre-allée minuscule, à sa taille, il travaillait avec diligence, propre-
ment, sans ternir son habit à queue. Quand je suis revenu après déjeuner,
il avait tout emporté. Il y avait bien de quoi faire un nid de cigognes.
Ce n'est pas le même merle que l'an dernier, bien sûr. D'abord il ne
chante pas encore ; tout au plus fait-il entendre un petit gazouillis pro-
metleur^ Bientôt, sur le faîte du toit qui borne mon horizon, je verrai sa
silhouette agrandie se détacher sur le couchant d'émeraude, de rubis et de
saphir. De là, il égalera le cjuartier de ses trilles éperdus. La saison passée,
je le prenais pour un pigeon tant il semblait énorme sur le ciel empourpré.
J'entendais sa chanson vibrante et pure. Je le cherchais partout sans vou-
loir le reconnaître dans cet oiseau grand comme une girouette, immobile
entre les cheminées. Ah ! quelle joie, quand, avec ma jumelle, je distinguai
I. petilfi murs. — 2. le souvenir persistant. — 3. ÉlofTe jaune et légère, jadis à la
mode. — 4. qui promet d'autres chants.
128 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [752]
nettement le clapet de son bec et les ondulations de sa gorge ! Jusqu'aux
premières ombres du soir il restait là, infatigable musicien, admirable
artiste, saluant en virtuose la splendeur du crépuscule. Puis, tout à coup,
et pendant que les martinets sifflaient encore dans les hauteurs, restées
lumineuses, inaccessibles à son vol pesant, il regagnait le mur de mon jar-
din où, pendant quelques instants, dans le lierre épais, il gazouillait tout
bas avant de s'endormir.
J'ai toujours aimé les oiseaux, mais plus particulièrement le merle, parce
que je crois avoir sur la conscience la mort d'une de ces bestioles, je dis,
je crois, et je donnerais beaucoup pour me tromper. Voici l'histoire :
Mes voisins en avaient un dans une volière, au fond d'une cour. Il
chantait peu, le pauvret, dans les rocailles où un jet d'eau le condamnait
à une existence qui aurait infiniment mieux convenu à des grenouilles.
Quoi qu'il en soit, il ne paraissait pas trop misérable. Il faisait la joie
d'une petite fille qui était son amie vraisemblablement car il venait pren-
dre tout ce qu'elle lui offrait quand elle passait ses doigts menus à travers
les mailles du treillage. Dieu ! quels grands coups de bec il donnait ! La
petite ne bronchait pas. Je la trouvais très brave. Moi, j'étais l'ami de la
petite fille, mais je n'étais pas brave comme elle, et quand elle me pressait
d'offrir quelque graine à son favori, je n'osais pas. Un jour j'eus l'idée à
jamais déplorable dépiquer une vesce • à la pointe d'une épingle. L'oiseau
ne fit qu'un saut sur mes doigts vivement retirés. La peur me fit fermer
les yeux, et quand je les rouvris, je crois bien que le merle avait tout
avalé. Oui, comme l'autruche du jardin des Plantes qui avale des gros
sous et des boutons d'uniforme. Ahl comme j'aurais voulu me tromper !
Tous les jours, sans rien dire de mes transes, je cherchais dans le gravier
qui débordait de la volière si, par hasard je ne retrouverais pas la fatale
épingle. Hélas ! Trois fois hélas ! ce fut le merle que ma petite voisine
retrouva sur le dos. les pattes en l'air. Des cris déchirants m'apprirent la
catastrophe. En un bond, je fus au hautde l'échelle sur l'arête du mur de
clôture En bas, de l'autre côté, mon amie, avec de grands hoquets dou-
loureux, levait ses bras tendus vers ma face coupable. A travers mes
pleurs, je vis dans ses menottes une petite chose noire et lamentable. Je
gardai mon secret, mes remords, et je passai, moi criminel, pour un petit
camarade doux et compatissant.
Nous lui limes des funérailles dignes d'une fin aussi tragique, auxquelles
furent conviés nombre d'enfants. Quelques-uns riaient en cachette. Même
à l'automne, soit simple hasard, soit malice, un vague cousin^ eut la
cruauté de l'exhumer et de le représenter à nos yeux horrifiés.
Aussi, je ne puis supporter la vue d'un oiseau en cage, d'un merle
surtout.
Henri Caudevelle.
5. Petite plante de la l'amille des légumineuses. — 6. un cousin quelconque.
Les Cinq Langues
N" 17. 5 Juin 1908. 8» Année.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
En Flandre.
L'humidité poursuit l'homme jusque chez lui, sattaque à ses vêtemenls, à
ses meubles. L'homme se défend, frotte, nettoie, arrose. L'humidité a fait la
propreté flamande, célèbre dans la France entière. On lave à grande eau ' ,
on inonde la maison chaque semaine. C'est pour le dimanche que la maison
doit être propre ; on y travaille donc le samedi, et on flnit par s'y mettre le
jour précédent ; dès le vendredi, la ménagère flamande commence son grand
nettoyage. Boucher de Perthes, visitant Lille en i856, trouvait que la ville sen-
tait le savon noir. Le résultat paraît mince dans les grandes villes industrielles,
emplies de fumée, de poussière et de bouc ; mais les villes un peu assoupies-,
Ypres, Saint-Omer, Furnes, Bailleul et même Courtrai, Bruges, une partie de
(iand sont réellement propres, nettes; elles ont même l'air un peu froid, trop
bien tenu. De même les campagnes flamandes sont généralement irréi^rocha-
bles : meubles frottés, dallage brillant, tout bien en ordre. Souvent la mai-
son ne paie pas de mine^, c'est une vieille ferme en torchis, murs déjetés,
toit de chaume, et l'intérieur est attrayant, avec ses ustensiles reluisants, son
grand poêle astiqué, ses meubles cirés, et la petite collection d'objets de piété
aux couleurs claires. C'est que le climat désagréable force le Flamand à vivre
beaucoup chez lui.
Aussi cherche-t-il à se créer un intérieur c^ui soit gai, clair, et lui tienne
lieu du monde extérieur que la pluie, le brouillard et la boue rendent déplai-
sant. De là les nombreuses et hautes fenêtres dont s'ornent les vieux manoirs
ruraux et toutes les maisons des villes; elles tiennent foute la rangée de la
façade, et n'ont pas de contrevents ^, comme si on craignait d'empêcher un
peu de jour d'entrer ; de ]^ aussi les larges baies qui remplacent les fenêtres
dans les demeures modernes, et laissent pénétrer à flots une douce lumière
tamisée dans la dentelle des rideaux. Mais si l'on désire que la lumière pénètre
le plus largement possible, l'entrée de l'air brumeux, humide, souvent agité
par les vents d'Ouest, est chichement mesurée; toutes ces fenêties sont divisées
en deux parties, dont la seconde seulement peut s'ouvrir : et c'est souvent la
plus petite. C'est encore à la lutte contre un climat brumeux qu'est due la
véranda, cette pièce vitrée si caractéristique de la maison lilloise, où l'on a
résolu le problème de voir clair, de vivre hors de la maison un peu sombre,
d'être à l'extérieur tout en restant confortablement enfermé. Pour assurer à la
pluie fréquente un écoulement rapide, les grands toits s'allongent, intermina-
bles, faits de petites tuiles rouges, qui donnent un aspect de gaîté si inattendu
aux vieilles villes flamandes vues de leur beffroi, comme Bruges ou Bergues".
Raoul Blanchaiîd.
I. avec beaucoup d'eau. — 2. où le mouvement est moindre dans les rues. — 3. n'a pas
un bel aspect. — l^. colds. — 5. Tiré de La Plaindre (Paris, Armand Colin).
[100] FRANC, n
130 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [794]
Les castes dans Tlnde.
Extrait d'un intéressant article de M. Rémy de Gourmont paru dans la Dépêche de Tou-
louse.
En princi^îe, dans l'Inde, les brahmanes, mis à part comme supérieurs et
tes parias comme inféiieurs à tous les hommes, chaque caste est pure pour
elle-même et impure pour les autres castes. Chaque caste éprouve pour toutes
les autres une répugnance à la fois physique, religieuse et sociale. Gela sera
plus ou moins marqué selon les degrés de la hiérarchie où se trouvent res-
pectivement les deux castes en présence ; cela sera plus accentué dans les cam-
pagnes que dans les villes où le coudoiement est quotidien' ; mais rien n'effacera
jamais entièrement cette horreur singulière que le forgeron éprouve pour le
boucher, le charpentier pour le maçon ou le barbier, aussi bien pour le
riche joaillier que pour le misérable tisserand. « On eut beaucoup de peine,
dit M. Bougie 2, à établir k Calcutta une canalisation d'eau ; comment les
gens de castes différentes pourraient-ils se servir du même robinet? » Voilà un
scrupule qui montre à la fois la profondeur et la puérilité des répulsions entre
castes. 11 est vrai qu'il s'agit de l'eau, qui lave toute souillure, mais à condition
qu'elle soit pure. Or, si le robinet a été touché par une main souillée, l'eau
sera-t-elle encore pure ? Il serait curieux de connaître les raisonnements
par lesquels les Anglais réussirent à convaincre ces pauvres gens, si étroite-
ment captifs de leurs pauvres idées.
Comment se souille un homme pur? De bien des manières, par tous les
sens, par le contact direct, mais aussi par la vue et même par la seule présence.
Comme jadis chez nous les lépreux, on oblige parfois les parias à porter des
clochettes, afin d'être averti à temps, et de pouvoir se mettre en garde contre
une rencontre si néfaste. En certaines régions, on les force d'aller nus, afin de
n'être pas frôlé par leurs vêtements flottants. Les tchandalas ne sont guère
moins redoutés que les parias. Si elle a regardé par mégarde un de ces êtres
souillés, une jeune fille doit aller aussitôt se laver les yeux. Les castes impures
souillent les castes pures à des distances variables pour chacune d'elles et qui
semblent varier, on a pris la peine d'en faire le calcul, de vingt à soixante pas.
Dangereux à trente pas, un tchandala ne le serait plus à cinquante, tandis qu'à
soixante pas, et peut-être davantage, un paria demeure redoutable. Les pro-
menades ne doivent pas être une sinécure -^ dans ce singulier pays ; il faut
posséder un coup d'oeil sûr et diligent. Encore, que de fois doit-on être
trompé, cjuand il s'agit d'une caste qui n'est pas tenue de porter une marque
extérieure! On raconte l'histoire d'un brahmane, terrifié d'avoir fait route, sans
le savoir, avec un tchandala, ne sachant comment effacer promplement une
souillure si grave, et se répandant, tout égaré, en imprécations terribles
Ce que redoutent le plus les membres d'une caste, c'est de partager les aliments
avec les membres d'une autre caste. Rien, et c'est une idée qui, Ijien comprise,
serait juste, n'est plus facile à souiller que la nourritui'c. Le regard, et nous
rentrons aussitôt dans labsurde, suffit pour cela. On s'accorde même à dire
que si un paria jetait les yeux sur les ustensiles d'une cuisine, ils devraient être
remplacés. Jacquemont, qui voyagea dans l'Inde avec une escorte de cijDayes,
remarquait que chaque homme se faisait une cuisine particulière et mangeait
à part ; c'est qu'ils étaient tous de castes différentes. Quand on entend parler
de la famine dans l'Inde, il faut penser aux castes. En tout autre pays, il suffi-
rait de distribuer des vivres. Dans l'Inde, il faut que les vivres soient distribués
aux différentes castes par des castes de qui les affamés peuvent sans souillure
recevoir des aliments.
1. où Ton se rencontre chaque jour. — 2. Auteur d'un beau livre sur l'Inde. — 3. une
occupation exempte de soucis.
[795] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 131
Médecin pour dames.
La scène se passe chez la coquette Araminte où sont réunis : trois dames,
coquettes et frivoles, Araminte, Ismène, Cidalise, une jeune fille de bon sens,
LuciLE, un auteur qui voudi'ait lire sa pièce et en est empêché, Damon, un
abbé habile joueur de guitare, un visiteur raisonnable, Lisidor.
La soubrette, — C'est votre médecin, madame.
Araminte. — Qu'il entre, j'en suis ravie ; qu'il entre. Venez ; je vous
sais bon gré * de ne pas m'alaandonner. Ismène, je vous demande votre
confiance pour monsieur... Un fauteuil, Lisette ^... Ce cher docteur, c'est
qu'il est bien moins mon médecin que mon ami. C'est par attachement
qu'il me traite ^ : et, dans ma dernière migraine, il ne m'a pas quittée
d'une minute.
Le MÉDEcm. — Que voulez- vous ? Quoique vous nous fassiez mourir *^
il faut bien songer à vous faire vivre... Toutes vos santés, mesdames,
me paraissent assez belles.
Aramiinte. — Oh ! point du tout.
Damon {à part). — Me voilà perdu !
L'abbé (à Ismène). — Vous croyez aux médecins, madame?
Ismène. — Comme aux abbés.
L'abbé. — Toujours méchante.
Le médecin. — Comment donc ! Quelles sont ces indociles maladies que
notre sagacité ne peut réduire ? Oh ! nous en viendrons à bout,
madame... Voyons... Justement... L'estomac délabré... et l'appétit?
Araminte. — Est-ce qu'on mange?
Le médecin. — Crachez-vous?
Araminte. — Je crois qu'oui.
Le médecin. — Tant mieux ! Poursuivons^... ?Sous avons des nuages
devant les yeux, des disparates ^ dans la tête ?
Araminte . — Précisément.
Le médecin. — Je l'aurais gagé''... Allons, allons, il faut prendre un
parti sérieux : il faut du régime, se mettre à l'eau de poulet ^. Je vous jure
qu'avec des bols de savon nous parviendrons à atténuer ces humeurs ®
errantes.
LisiDOR. — Des bols de savon !
Le médecin. — Oui, monsieur; c'est un spécifique divin que depuis
deux ans je réussis à mettre à la mode. Les anciennes drogues dont nos
ancêtres faisaient usage pouvaient convenir à leurs santés robustes et
grossières ; mais aujourd'hui tout doit être soumis aux lois de notre déli-
catesse et de nos grâces. Voudriez-vous par exemple que je déchirasse
l'estomac d'une jolie malade avec du miel aérien, qui ne purge que par
indigestion ?
L'abbé. — Oserais-je vous demander, monsieur, ce que c'est que du miel
aérien ?
Le MÉDECIN. — C'est de la manne, monsieur l'abbé, c'est de la manne.
I. je vous suis reconnaissante. — 2. C'est le nom de la soubrette. — 3. soigne. — 4.
A cause de votre coquetterie. Fade plaisanterie. — 5. continuons. — 6. des troubles. —
7. j'en étais sûr. — 8. On dirait aujourd'hui : du bouillon de poulet. — 9. L'ancienne
médecine attribuait certaines maladies à Tàcreté ou au déplacement de certaines
humeurs.
132 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [796]
Non seulement nous avons renoncé aux drogues antiques, mais nous
avons encore changé leurs dénominations vulgaires.
AramiiNte. — 11 est charmant !
Damo.x (à part). — Oh ! des gens aussi superficiels ne sentiront jamais
les beautés mâles de ma tragédie.
Le médecin (à Ismène). — Et vous, madame, pour lier connaissance,
n'avez -vous pas quelque confidence à me faire?
IsMÎi.xE. — Mais vraiment oui.
L'abbé. — Vous allez aussi consulter '° ?
lsMÈ:NE. — Sans doute : ne me connaissez-vous pas de la langueur, des
tiraillements ?
L'abbé {à part). — Je n'y tiens plus ". (Il se lève, se promène, ouvre des
livres de musique, prend une guitare.)
Le médecin. — Doucement, s'il vous plaît, madame, doucement. De la
pesanteur, dites-vous ; des dégoûts... M'y voici '-... Quelques éblouisse-
ments ?... Des impatiences de fibres ?... Vapeurs que tout cela, vapeurs...
Le fluide nerveux que la chaleur éleclrise... des nerfs qui se crispent...
une sorte de spasme... Vous portez sur vous des eaux de Cologne, de fleurs
d'orange ?
Ismène. — Toujours,
Le médecin. — C'est bon. Il faut conserver cet usage-là '^ J'irai demain
malin vous faire ma cour'» ; je serai bien aise de vous voir un peu assi-
dûment, afin de mieux étudier les causes de votre état '^.
LisiDOR (à Lucile). — Le ridicule personnage !
CiDALisE. — Plus je l'écoute, plus il m'enchante.
Damon {se levant). — Comme les moments s'écoulent ! Si vous vouliez
permettre, mesdames....
Araminte. — Ah ! de grâce *^ monsieur Damon, quartier '' ! Laissez-
nous jouir de ce cher docteur.
Damon (à part). — J'enrage. Où me suis-je fourré ?
Le médecin. — Et vous, belle Cidalise ?
CiDALiSE. — Je ne suis guère mieux.
Le MÉDECIN. — Je le crois. C'est contre mon avis que vous avez fait
éventer la veine ^^ Mais voilà comme vous êtes, mesdames ; depuis que
votre petit chirurgien s'est donné le renom d'un joli saigneur, il vous fait
tourner la cervelle ^'•'... Je devrais, pour vous punir, vous abandonner à sa
lancette inhumaine, vous laisser épuiser jusqu'au blanc ^° : mais vous êtes
si intéressantes ! A'oyons ce pouls : il est fréquent, mais égal'-' ; l'appétit,
je parie -', modeste, mais franc; le sommeil rare, mais doré ^'K Je ne vous
conseille pourtant pas de vous tranquilliser sur ce prétendu bien-être : il
faut du régime, de l'exercice et de la petite diète -'' A vous, mon aima-
ble demoiselle.
LuciLE. — Oh ! monsieur, je me porte très bien.
Le médecin. — Je n'en crois pas un mot.
LuciLE. — Mais j'en suis bien sûre, moi.
10. consulter le médecin. — ii. j'en suis hors de moi. — la. je comprends. —
i3. On notera que ce médecin se garde bien de contrarier ses clientes. — i4. Saluer
quelqu'un et causer respectueusement et galamment avec lui. — i5. voire étal de
santé. — i6. je vous en prie. — 17. ayez pitié de nous. — 18. vous vous clés fait saigner. —
19. il vous rend folles. — 20. saigner jnsqu" à la dernière goutte de sang. — 21. il bal vite,
mais avec régularité. — 22. j'ensuis sûr. — 28. vous dormez peu, mais agréablement. —
a '1 . «ne diète légère .
[797] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 133
AramIxNte. — Eh bien ! n'allez-vous pas faire ici la ridicale quand mon-
sieur le docteur a pour vous des complaisances ?
Le médecin. — Il sulfit : ne chagrinons pas cette chère enfant ; ne con-
traignons personne. La vivacité de ses yeux cependant me fait soupçonner
dans son sang une sorte d'effervescence dont je croirais prudent de préve-
nir les elfets par de petits calmants, par quelque préparation d'aconit ou
de ciguë, que nous lui proposerons -^ dans une crème aux pistaches.
LisiDOR. — En vérité, monsieur, j'ai cru jusqu'à ce moment qu'un
habile médecin ne devait consacrer ses lumières ''^ qu'à soulager ou du
moins consoler la faible humanité : mais vos savants discours ne tendent
qu'à l'épouvanter. De grâce, laissez-nous attendre les maux ; nous n'au-
rons que trop tôt recours aux remèdes.
Le médecin. — "N'oilà précisément ce que pense un peuple '-' de méde-
cins qui ne songent qu'à guérir. Mais moi, monsieur, mais moi j'étudie le
caractère, la tournure d'esprit de mes malades ; je prévois les accidents ;
et j'aime mieux préparer et même, dans l'occasion -^, prolonger une
maladie, que de trancher dans le vif -'^ et vous rendre en huit jours une
santé grossière dont on ne jouit dans le monde que pour en abuser.
LisiDOR. — Voilà certainement une étrange politique^" !
POINSINET (1735-1764)-
25. offriron.1 . — 26. son savoir. — 27. une foule. — 28. à l'occasion. — ig. agir vile
l'Iunp'M brutalement . — 3o. méthode.
Goethe *.
Il
C'est chose bien différente pour la force d'une expression que derrière
elle il y ait un homme ou qu'il n'y en ait point. Dans lejournal savant, dans
la gazette influente, je ne distingue aucune forme déterminée, rien qu'une
sorte d'ombre irresponsable; plus souvent encore c'est quelque société
financière, ou un pantin qui, derrière le masque et sous le manteau d'un
article, espère passer pour un personnage. Mais dans chaque phrase, dans
chaque paragraphe d'un vrai livre j'aperçois les yeux d'un homme bien
déterminé : sa force et sa terreur inondent chaque mot ; les virgules et les
tirets sont vivants, si bien que son livre est athlétique et agile, il peut aller
loin et vivre longtemps.
En Angleterre et en Amérique on peut être versé dans des écrits d'un
poète grec ou latin sans avoir ni goût ni verve poétique. Qu'un homme ait
consacré des années à Platon et à Proclus, cela n'autorise pas à présumer
qu'il ait des sentiments héroïques ou qu'il dédaigne les modes de son
pays. Mais le peuple allemand montre en pareille matière la bonne foi la
plus ridicule : l'étudiant sorti de la salle de cours rumine encore la leçon
qu'il vient d'entendre et le professeur ne peut se défaire de l'illusion que les
vérités de la philosophie sont, dans une certaine mesure, applicables à
Berlin et à Munich.
Ce sérieux leur permet d'avoir un horizon intellectuel bien plus vaste
que celui d'hommes mieux doués.
Voir les quatre autres parties.
134
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
[798J
C'est pourquoi presque toutes les définitions usitées dans les conversa-
tions d'ordre élevé nous viennent d'Allemagne.
(A suivre.) Emerson.
Contes de la Vieille France*.
YI
Le testament de l'âne.
Un matin, entrant dans letable, le curé de Wimille trouva son âne mort.
Il cria : Martin ! d'une voix ane^oissée, et les longues oreilles ne bougèrent
Galhéttrale de Lîoulogne-sur-Mor.
pas. Il tàta la croupe : la peau était déjà froide. Il constata que les pattes
étaient raides, que les yeux étaient vitreux, que, dans le râtelier, la bottede
foin était intacte. Alors le curé essuya ses paupières humides et se mit à son-
ger mélancoliquement. Son pauvre compagnon ! C'était une si bonne bête,
infatigable quand elle trottait, obéissante au moindre mot, douce et affec-
tueuse ! Quand elle paissait, elle laissait les gamins grimper sur son dos
et se suspendre à sa queue. Quand son maître arrivait, elle le reconnaissait
* Voir les n'* 5, 8, 1 1, i3 et i5.
[799] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 135
de loin et saluait sa venue de cris sonores et pleins de tendresse. Elle était
sobre, soumise, modeste et travailleuse ; elle avait toutes les vertus. Ce
n'était pas un âne, c'était un camarade et le meilleur des serviteurs. En
songeant ainsi le pauvre homme poussait de gros soupirs et des sanglots
montaient à sa gorge.
Son émotion un peu calmée, il se demanda ce qu'il ferait de ce triste
corps. « Il ne l'enverrait pas à l'équarrisseur. Fallait-il l'enterrer dans le
pré où Martin broutait l'herbe salée par le vent de la mer, en haut du
coteau? Ce serait mieux, mais Martin méritait davantage. . . Après tout,
pourquoi ce digne animal n'aurait-il pas un petit coin de terre sainte, un
peu à l'écart sans doute, mais là où reposaient bien des gens qui ne le
valaient pas? » Et c'est ainsi que le curé de Wimille fut amené parla suite de
ses méditations et par l'effet d'une légitime douleur à commettre une action
condamnable. C'est ainsi que. à la tombée de la nuit, il creusa furtivement
une fosse dans le terrain consacré et y déposa, en les arrosant de ses lar-
mes, les restes de son humble ami. Personne ne le vit, personne n'en sut
rien, pensa-t-il.
Mais tout se voit, tout se sait, tout se répète. Comme quelques jours
avaient passé sans incidents fâcheux et qu'il commençait à se rasséréner, il
surpritparmi ses paroissiens des sourires étouffés ; sur la route, il remarqua
que des villageois se poussaient du coude sur son passage ; même quel-
ques vieilles femmes très pieuses ne répondirent plus à son salut. Cela
devenait grave. Qui donc l'avait espionné ? Qui donc l'ayant espionné
avait parlé? Chose plus grave encore : un courrier vint frapi:>er à la porte
du presbytère et lui annonça que l'évêque de Boulogne ' le mandait. Le
malheureux sentit ses jambes flageoUer et son front se mouiller de sueur.
« Je suis perdu ! se dit-il avec désespoir ; ces brigands-là m'ont dénoncé. »
Il eut tout de même assez de force pour répondre au courrier : « J'irai » .
Bien plus, il eut le courage de lui offrir de la bière et de trinquer avec lui .
Mais ses dents claquaient contre le gobelet.
Le lendemain il partit sans avoir l'air de faire attention aux sourires
malicieux des femmes embusquées derrière les portes enlr'ouvertes ; il n'eut
pas l'air de voir quelques polissons qui lui tiraient la langue ; il n'eut pas
l'air d'entendre les ricanements de quelques paysans qu'il rencontra. Cepen-
dant ses pensées étaient lugubres, et comme un troupeau d'oies le suivaient
en criant, il crut distinguer dans leurs cris le mot : cachot. C'est encore
le mot cachot qu'il reconnut dans le croassement de quelques corneilles,
et, lorsqu'il fut en haut de la côte, le mugissement de la mer sembla lui
dire aussi : cachot, cachot.
Il n'y a qu'une lieue de Wimille à Boulogne. D'ordinaire il faisait cette
lieue en une heure; il mit cette fois plus de temps car il ne se pressait
guère. Il arriva tout de même, hélas ! Il franchit la porte de Calais, sous
les vieux remparts, et, sous la voûte, le bruit de ses pas lui parut effrayant.
11 passa près de la cathédrale, encore inachevée, où des ouvriers, blancs
de poussière, taillaient la pierre sur des échafaudages. 11 entra dans l'évê-
ché et, le cœur battant, fut introduit devant Monseigneur.
Généralement Monseigneur, petit homme grassouillet aux joues rondes.
avait la bonté peinte sur sa figure. Mais, ce jour-là, le curé de Wimille
comprit immédiatement que les choses allaient mal. L'évêque avait une
moue de mauvais augure, les sourcils froncés, la mitre posée de travers
I. Jadis il y a>ail un évoque à Boulogne-sur-Mer.
136 fARTIE FRANÇAISE [800]
sur ses boucles blanches. Bien plus, près du \aste fauteuil où il était
assis, se tenait debout le grand vicaire, personnage long et sec, noir
comme sa soutane, le grand vicaire qui n'avait jamais ri, le grand vicaire
qui avait en ce moment sa mine la plus implacable et son altitude la plus
terrorisante. Notre curé eut si peur... qu'il en recouvra son sang-froid.
— J'en sais de belles sur votre compte, dit l'évêque avec sévérité. Il
paraît, monsieur le curé, que vous avez mis votre âne dans la terre sainte
Un vil animal parmi des chrétiens ! Quel scandale !
Et le vieillard leva vers le ciel des bras indignés, et le grand vicaire,
silencieux, terrible, darda sur le coupable un regard foudroyant.
Le curé, son bonnet à la main, répondit, d'une voix qui peu à peu se
raffermissait :
— Monseigneur, Martin n'était pas un âne ordinaire ; non seulement il
travaillait, mais il économisait. Comme il était très laborieux et qu'il a
vécu dix ans chez moi, il est parvenu à épargner cinquante écus. Or, la
veille de sa mort, il m'a révélé sa cachette et m'a déclaré que, pour se
faire pardonner ses péchés, il vous léguait tout son pécule. Monseigneur,
afin de contribuer pour sa part à la construction de votre cathédrale. Je
l'ai vue tout à l'heure, votre cathédrale, et elle n'avance pas vite. Refu-
serez-vous le legs de Martin ?
Là-dessus, le curé de Wimille, à la fois piteux et un peu narquois,
comme un enfant qui craint d'être battu mais qui espère en l'indulgence
paternelle, fouilla dans sa poche et tendit à son juge la belle monnaie d'or.
Alors l'évêque regarda le vicaire et le vicaire regarda l'évêque. Sur les
traits renfrognés du vicaire il y eut quelque chose qui ressemblait à un
sourire. L'évêque, lui, rit franchement, puis dit avec bonne humeur:
— Curé, ton àne avait de louables sentiments ; j'accepte son héritage
pour ma pauvre cathédrale qui en a bien besoin. C'est du reste la pre-
mière libéralité qui me vient de ton village. Aussi, fais-moi le plaisir de
transporter ailleurs ce baudet si généreux : son voisinage serait trop humi-
liant pour tes paroissiens. Sur ce -, retire-toi et va en paix.
Max jAsixskf.
2. el maintenant.
Un peintre expéditif.
Autrefois, il y eut des peintres qui travaillaient avec une prestesse extraor-
dinaire. De tous, le plus véloce fut Luca Giordano, un Napolitain du
\Y1L siècle. IT ne prenait jamais de repos, étant fort âpre au gain. Quand
Giordano peignait, sa femme ou son père lui apportaient son repas — à
la becquée, écrit un de ses biographes, c( comme on eût fait à un merle
ou à un passereau ». Et il allait si rondement qu'on le surnomma Luca
le « Va vite «, Luca fa presto.
Un jour que Giordano était occupé à peindre un tableau représentant
Jésus el ses disciples, il fut interrompu par son épouse ([ui l'appelait pour
dîner (il dînait à table, par exception ce jour-ià, ayant, sans doute, des
invités) : « Luca ! criait M'"e Giordano, descends tout de suite. La soupe
va refroidir !» — « Je viens, répondit le Napolitain, je n'ai plus à faire
que les douze apôtres ! »
Les Cinq Langues
N« 18.
20 Juin 1908.
8e Année.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
François Goppée.
François Coppée, qui vient de mourir quelques jours après sa vieille sœur et
fidèle compagne, Annetlc, fut un prosateur estimable, un bon poète et un brave
homme, .le laisserai le prosateur, qui écrivit beaucoup, fut très lu, mais dont
probablement aucun ou-
vrage ne restera. Je lais-
serai l'homme, dont la naï-
veté égala la bonté, qui fut
toujours sincère, prompt
à l'enthousiasme, épris de
toutes les idées généreuses
et dont le meilleur éloge
à faire est de rappeler qu'a-
près plusieurs années de
politique militante il n'eut
pas un seul ennemi. Je ne
m'occuperai ici que du
poète : le poète vaut qu'on
s'en occupe.
Par ses amitiés, par son
âge, Coppée était parnas-
sien. Comme les autres,
il rêva l'impersonnalité, la
splendeur de la forme, la
précision et l'ampleur du
style descriptif. De là,
dans son œuvre, quelques
pièces de langue riche et
sonore qu'on cite jîarfois,
qui sont agréables, mais
qui ne sont point de pre-
mier ordre. Pour les admi-
rer, il ne faudrait connaî-
tre ni Banville, ni Leconte de Lisie, dont il ne fut alors que le laborieux
élève. C'est ailleurs qu'on doit chercher son originalité.
Cette originalité, je ne la chercheiais pas dans les morceaux purement lyri-
ques, à qui font souvent défaut la distinction et le souille. Je ne la chercherais
pas non plus dans les Récits épiques, imitations parfois frajDpantes de Hugo,
qui, adroitement composés et contenant de beaux passages, soutiennent la
lecture, mais à qui nuit vraiment trop le souvenir de la Légende des siècles. Je
ne la chercherais même pas dans son théâtre en vers : assurément Severo Torelli,
Pour la Couronne, Les Jacobites, sont des drames honorables, abondants en
scènes pathétiques et en tirades à etîet. Mais, vraiment, n'est-ce point là le
[106] FRANC. 18
Franvois CoppÉe.
138 PARTIE FRANÇAISE
théàlre romantique avec sa déclamation, son lyrisme, sa psychologie superficielle
et un peu brutale, sa couleur locale imparfaite, ses antithèses conventionnelles
et son exotisme déjà suranné ? Que pouvait Coppée là où le génie de Hugo lui-
même ne suffit plus ? Sans doute il eut du succès ; mais une part de ce succès
allait au nom de l'auteur, déjà très connvi, et à la tradition qui fait applaudir
chez nous toute pièce en cinq actes, en vers, conforme à l'esthétique ancienne.
On applaudit donc par habitude, parce qu'on se sentait en face d'un elTort
consciencieux, parce qu'on aurait eu un peu honte de ne pas applaudir. Mais
le public ne réclama point de reprises.
Cependant, parmi tous ces drames, un seul, le plus court, eut une singulière
fortune : ce fut Le Passant. Chose rapide et légère, née d'un moment de véri-
table inspiration, toute pénétrée de grâce, de jeunesse, d'une tendresse élégante
et douce, bien écrite d'ailleurs, en un langage délicat et chantant, cette piécette
a résisté aux années ; elle plaît toujours ; on la joue encore ; on la jouera long-
temps. C'est que Coppée y mit, avec l'excellente technique du Parnasse, quel-
que chose de lui-même ; c'est que, dans Le Passant, il y eut, outre l'ouvrier
appliqué de Severo Torelli, le poète des Intimités.
Là en etïet se trouve un vrai poète. Il était infiniment affectueux; il l'était
avec timidité, avec pudeur ; il aimait le coin du feu. la tiédeur des chambres
closes, les bonheurs obscurs, le frôlement silencieux d'un être chéri. Sainte-
Beuve avait jadis essayé de rendre cette poésie et il ne l'avait pas rendue tou-
jours heureusement, parce que son cœur n'était pas simple et qu'il était trop
l^sychologue. Coppée y a souvent léussi délicieusement, parce qu'il sentait
fortement et qu'il ne se regardait pas sentir, parce qu'il s'abandonnait à sa
nature comme un enfant.
Mais, s'il sentait, il savait aussi observer. 11 s'amusa à décrire les scènes de la
rue, touchantes et variées dans leur vulgarité, la vie des humbles, parfois ridi-
cules mais, de même que lui, aimants et passionnés. Et comme, par bien des
côtés, il était semblable à ses infimes héros, il les peignit avec une bienveillance
qui rappelle Dickens et qui lui a quelquefois fait écrire de petits chefs-d'œuvre.
Dans la populace, Flaubert n'avait vu que la sottise et il l'avait représentée avec
férocité, avec colèi-e. C'est avec amour que Coppée raconta l'existence sans joie
d'un pitoyable éijicier. Pour ces récits, pour ces tableaux, il quitta le splendide
Parnasse ; il s'exprima comme les bourgeois, le soir, autour de la lampe ; son
vers se rapprocha de la prose usuelle ; il en prit les tours, la langue, le vocabu-
laire. On le lut en souriant, mais on fut conquis. L'art qui se dissimulait sous
cette bonhomie, la fine ironie qui se révélait çà et là, enchantèrent les lettrés.
Et il arriva qu'il fut surtout un artiste le jour où l'artiste sembla disparaître en
lui.
Voilà en quoi excella ce poète. Il émeut là où il est lui-même, soit quand son
âme candide s'exhale en confidences, soit quand il nous dépeint quelque coin
de ce Paris qu'il aima de tout son cœur, quelque figure de ce petit peuple
dont il était issu. Mieux que les longs récits, décidément trop vulgaires et trop
mélo-dramatiques, mieux que L'Épave ou La Grève des forgerons, telle page, telle
pièce brève, mélange d'attendrissement et de discrète plaisanterie, renferment
l'essence même de son talent et ce qu'il y a en lui de plus incontestablement
original. C'en est assez i^our que l'on n'oublie pas (Coppée. D'autres furent
plus grands, plus distingués, plus brillants. Leurs œuvres font songer tantôt
à la mer immense, tantôt à la forêt profonde, tantôt à un parc somptueux. La
sienne évoque le demi-jour d'un appartement parisien, modeste et propre, avec
une fenêtre que fleurissent des géraniums, et d'où l'on voit le spectacle chan-
geant d'une rue populeuse : ouvriers qui reviennent de l'usine, jeunes filles
qui sortent de l'atelier, régiment qui passe musique en têle. Et cela tout de
même a son charn:te.
Max Jasinski,
[843] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 139
Tableau rural.
Au village, en juillet. Un soleil accablant.
Ses lunettes au nez, le vieux charron tout blanc
Répare pi-ès du seuil un timon de charrue.
Le curé tout à l'heure a traversé la rue
Nu-tête. Les trois quarts ont sonné, puis plus rien,
Sauf monsieur le marquis, un gros richard terrien,
Qui passe en berlingot ' et la pipe à la bouche.
Et qui, pour délivrer sa jument d'une mouche.
Lance des claquements de fouet très campagnards,
Et fait fuir, effarés, coqs, poules et canards.
Croquis de banlieue.
L'homme, en manches de veste -, et sous son chapeau noir,
A cause du soleil ayant mis un mouchoir,
Tire gaillardement la petite voiture
Pour faire prendre l'air à sa progéniture :
Deux bébés, l'un cjui dort, l'autre suçant son doigt.
La femme suit et ijousse, ainsi c[u'elle le doit.
Très lasse, et sous son bras portant la ledingote ^ ;
Et l'on s'en va dîner dans une humble gargote
Où sur le mur est peint — vous savez ? à Clamart —
Un lapin mort avec trois billes de billard *.
Cheval de renfort.
Le cheval qu'a jadis réformé la remonte •'■
Est là, près du trottoir du grand faubourg cfui monte.
Pour qu'on l'attelle en flèche au prochain omnibus.
Il a cet air navré des animaux fourbus.
Sous son sale harnais cjui traîne par derrière.
iMais lorsc]ue, précédés d'une marche •' guerrière,
Des soldats font venir les femmes aux balcons.
Il se souvient alors du sixième '' dragons
Et du soleil luisant sur les lattes ^ vermeilles ;
Et le vieux vétéran redresse les oreilles.
Au bord de la Marne.
C'est régate à Joinville. On tire le pétard.
Les cinq canots, deux en avant, trois en letard.
Partent, et de soleil la rivière est criblée.
Sur la berge, là-bas, la foule est assemblée,
Et la gendarmerie est en pantalon blanc.
— Et l'on prévoit, ce soir, les rameurs s'attablant.
Au cabaret, les chants des joyeuses équipes ^,
i. pelite voilure. — 2. On dit plutôt : en manches de chemise. Il a retiré sa redingote
pour avoir moins chaud. — 3. Celle de son mari, naturellement. — 4. Beaucoup de mar-
chands de vin, dans la banlieue, ont en effet pour enseigne, peint sur le mur, ce que
dit Coppée. — 5. fa remonte de Varmée, qui réforme les chevaux. — G. Morceau de
musique bien rythmé. — 7. sixième ré(jimenl de dragons. — 8. Sabres longs et droits de la
grosse cavalerie française. — g. les équipes de canotiers.
140 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [844]
Les nocturnes bosquets constellés par les pipes,
Et les papillons noirs qui, dans l'air échauflFé,
Se brûlent au cognac flambant sur le café.
Aux bains de mer.
Sur la plage élégante au sable de velours
Que frappent, réguliers et calmes, les flots lourds,
Tels que des vers pompeux aux nobles hémistiches,
Les enfants des baigneurs oisifs, les enfants riches
Qui viennent des hôtels voisins et des chalets,
La culotte troussée au-dessus des mollets,
Courent, les pieds dans l'eau, jouant avec la lame,
Le rire dans les yeux et le bonheur dans l'âme.
Sains et superbes sous leurs habits étoffés
Et d'un mignon chapeau de matelot coifl"és,
Ces beaux enfants gâtés '", ainsi qu'on les appelle,
Creusent gaiment, avec une petite pelle.
Dans le sable fin d'or des canaux et des trous ;
Et ce même Océan qui peut dans son courroux
Broyer sur les récifs les grands steamers de cuivre
Laisse, indulgent aïeul, son flot docile suivre
Le chemin que lui trace un caprice d'enfant.
Ils sont là, l'œil ravi, les cheveux blonds au vent.
Non loin d'une maman brodant sous son ombrelle,
Et trouvent à coup sur chose bien naturelle
Que la mer soit si bonne et les amuse ainsi.
— Soudain d'autres enfants, pieds nus comme ceux-ci.
Et laissant monter l'eau sur leurs jambes bien faites.
Des moussaillons " du port, des pêcheurs de crevettes.
Passent, le cou tendu sous le poids des paniers.
Ce sont les fils des gens du peuple, les derniers
Des pauvres, et le sort leur fit rude la vie ;
Mais ils vont, sérieux, sans un regard d'euAie
Pour ces jolis babys '- et les plaisirs qu'ils ont.
Comme de courageux petits marins qu'il sont.
Ils aiment leur métier pénible et salutaire
Et ne jalousent point les heureux de la terre ;
Car ils savent combien maternelle est la mer,
Et que pour eux aussi souffle le vent amer
Qui rend robuste et belle, en lui baisant la joue.
L'enfance qui travaille et l'enfance qui joue.
Matin d'octobre.
C'est l'heure exquise et matinale
Que rougit un soleil soudain.
A travers la brume automnale
Tombent les feuilles du jardin.
10. trop choyés par leurs parpiUs.— n. petits mousses. — la. bébés.
[845] PAHTIE FRANÇAISE 141
Leur chute est lente. On peut les suivre
Du regard, en reconnaissant
Le chêne à sa feuille de cuivre,
L'érable à sa feuille de sang.
Les dernièi'es, les plus rouillées,
Tombent des branches dépouillées ;
jNFais ce n'est pas l'hiver encor.
Une blonde lumière arrose
La nature, et, dans l'air tout rose.
On croirait qu'il neige de l'or.
François Goppée
i3. Toutes les poésies de Coppée ont été éditées chez Alp. Lemerre (Paris, Passage
Choiseul). Nos extraits ont tous été pris dans le Cahier rouge (Poésies, 2^ volume).
Chez François Coppée.
« Annette, descends ; c'est le monsieur pour les chats. »
(Le monsieur pour les chats, on l'a deviné, ce n'est pas un autre que
moi.)
Mademoiselle Annette Coppée, toute blanche de cheveux, fait son entrée
dans la salle à manger. Un sourire agréable éclaire son visage de bonne
personne.
« Soyez le bienvenu, monsieur. Monsieur va déjeuner avec nous, n'est-
ce pas ?
— Mais certainement ! Nous aurons ainsi tout le temps de causer de
Bourget, de petit Lou-lou et de Mistigris ' . »
— « Asseyez- vous donc », me dit alors M . François Coppée qui me dési-
gna un siège devant la table sur laquelle trois couverts entouraient des œufs
au plat. « Ah ! il faut en passer par là ^ », insista affablement le poète des
Humbles, « si vous tenez à être renseigné sur ma ménagerie. En dehors du
temps nécessaire à l'ingurgitation de ce léger repas, je serais fort empê-
ché de vous accorder même cinq minutes. Songez donc que je fais demain
une conférence aux Havrais et que je ne l'ai pas encore préparée. Il est
vrai que je leur dirai de mes vers ; mais encore faut-il leur servir quelques
cornichons ' autour. »
Les « cornichons autour » m'amusèrent autant que le « monsieur pour
les chats ».
Tant d'amabilité de la part de cet académicien vraiment bon enfant ^
leva mes derniers scrupules et je ne fis plus aucune façon pour me rendre
à ■' une invitation qui, au fond, me charmait autant qu'elle m'honorait.
L'image et la gravure ont rendu populaire la physionomie de M. Fran-
çois Goppée : sur la figure entièrement rasée du maître ^ on voit à la fois
les tons bleus des faces des comédiens et un peu du hâle qui brunit les
matelots. Aux heures familières \ ce visage, dans lequel ies amandes des
I. Noms des trois chats de Coppée. — s. s'y résigner. — 3. Les cornichons sont un
assaisonnement. On comprend la plaisanterie. — 4. cordial et simple. — 5. accepter.
— 6. Nom qu'on donne par respect aux grands écrivains et aux grands artistes. — 'j . de
familiarité.
142 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [846]
yeux pointent vers les tempes, ce visage s'empreint d'une malice amu-
sante, d'une gaieté gaminière ^. Un pantalon gris d'argent en velours à
côtes et un simple gilet de chasse ^ couleur loutre habillent, non sans cor-
rection, mon illustre amphitryon.
En mangeant, M. François Coppée me parle de ses chats.
« En fait d'amour pour les bêtes, me dit-il d'abord, je suis très prati-
quant mais pas du tout théoricien. Aussi n'attendez pas de moi sur elles
des développements ingénieux.
— Pas de cornichons autour ? fis-je "* en riant.
— Non, pas de cornichons . Réservons-les pour les Ilavrais, demain. . . .
Il y a eu ici des chats par douzaines. Nous en avons eu de véritables dynas-
ties, comme dans l'Egypte antique. Le plus vieux des trois qui nous restent,
c'est celui qui dort, tenez, là, à votre droite, sur cette chaise, le nez sur la
lueur de la salamandre. C'est « le vieux ». 11 s'appelle Bourget.
— Comment, Bourget ?
— Vous voyez peut-être dans ce fait une irrévérence à l'égard de l'auteur
de Cruelle énigme " ? Du tout '- ; c'est peut-être une preuve de notre
amitié pour lui qu'il faut y voir. Du reste, par la prononciation, le nom
s'est altéré, et de Bourget nous avons fait Zézé. . . . Zézé ! Zézé ! »
Bourget, un grand chat noir efflanqué de vieillesse, leva péniblement
son mufle pelé et le laissa tôt '^ retomber sur ses pattes rouillées 'S non
sans avoir entr'ouvert un œil miteux à l'expression presque complètement
détachée '^ des choses et des gens.
« C'est le Chevreul "' de l'espèce ! proclama M. Coppée en brandissant
sa fourchette. Songez qu'il a bientôt dix-huit ans, ce qui, pour un chat,
est un âge très avancé. •
— Voyez, me fit remarquer mademoiselle Coppée, voyez, monsieur,
voyez comme Bourget a les oreilles déchiquetées.
— Ah ! s'il a les oreilles à l'état de dentelles, c'est qu'il s'est beaucoup
battu, Bourget. Ilein ? mon vieux Bourget, que tu t'es beaucoup battu ? »
Mais le très vieux mufle demeura indolemment sur les très vieilles pat-
tes ; seulement le déchiquetage des très vieilles oreilles • ' frémit un peu.
Georges Docquois.
8. pareille ù celle des gaynins. — g. Gilel en grosse laine. — lo. dis-je. — ii. Roman
célèbre de Paul Bourget. — 12. pan du lotit. — i3. aussitôt. — ih. impotentes . — i5.
indifférente ù. — iG. Illustre savant mort centenaire. — 17. les très vieilles oreilles
déchiquetées.
Goethe*.
m
Mais tandis qu'en Angleterre et en France des hommes distingués par
l'intelligence et le savoir choisissent leurs études et leur parti avec une cer-
taine légèreté et qu'on ne leur demande pas de s'y engager profondément
et de toute leur âme, Goethe, la tête et la personnification de la nation alle-
mande, ne parle pas parce qu'il a du talent, non, c'est la vérité qui brille
à travers ses paroles ; il est sage au suprême degré, bien que son talent
* Voir les quatre autres parties.
[847] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 143
voile souvent sa sagesse. Si parfaite que soit l'expression, ce qu'il a en vue
est meilleur encore. Voilà qui excite ma curiosité. 11 a l'indépendance for-
midable que donne le commerce de la vérité; écoutez-le ou abstenez-vous
de l'entendre, le fait qu'il a établi subsiste, votre intérêt pour l'écrivain
n'est pas limité à son histoire et vous ne le chassez pas de votre mémoire
après qu'il s'est convenablement acquitté de sa tâche, tel un boulanger
qui a remis son pain; non, son œuvre est la moindre partie de lui-même.
Le vieil Esprit, l'Esprit éternel qui a édifié l'univers s'est plus confié à cet
homme qu'à tout autre Son but n'est rien moins que la conquête de
la nature entière, de la vérité universelle, dont il veut faire son lot. Cet
homme ne peut être corrompu, ni trompé, ni intimidé ; stoïque dans
l'empire qu'il a sur lui-même et dans son abnégation, il n'a d'autre
pierre de touche pour tous les hommes que celle-ci : Que peux-tu m ap-
prendre ? De ce point de vue seul il évalue tous les biens : rang, privi-
lèges, santé, temps et l'existence elle-même.
(Fin.) Emerson.
Génie et folie.
Certains psychologues et psychiatres', tels que M. Lombroso et son
élève, M. Max Nordau, ont soutenu et essayé de démontrer que le génie
était une forme de la démence. Pour appuyer une si b.elle thèse on s'est
servi quelquefois de l'exemple de Schumann, dont la vie, on le sait, fut
troublée de désordres cérébraux.
Dans le Journal de Psychologie, le docteur Pascal étudie le cas du célè-
bre musicien. Suivant lui, Schumann aurait été atteint de deux affections
distinctes. De vingt-trois à quarante-deux ans, il a souffert d'une psycho-
névrose^ se manifestant par des crises où l'on avu, à tort, les signes d'uae
démence précoce. Les facultés intellectuelles et l'intégrité des sens restaient
absolument intactes. Ces crises correspondaient généralement à des pério-
des de travail excessif ou de sentimentalisme aigu : le Paradis et la Péri,
Manfred, Faust, les quatre Symphonies.
En i85o, apparaissent des symptômes nouveaux : embarras de la parole,
hallucinations de louïe, délire. Le malade voit des anges, des démons ;
il entend un la perpétuel ; il est obsédé et terrifié par l'idée de la mort
prochaine.
Dès ce moment Schumann, atteint par la paralysie générale, ne produit
plus rien. On l'enferme dans une maison de santé et, en i856, il meurt,
après quatre années de déchéance continue.
On retrouve là, déclare le docteur Pascal, tous les signes de la folie.
Mais chez Schumann, comme chez le Tasse, Newton, Volta, Nietzsche, le
génie, loin de coïncider avec la folie, s'éteint en même temps que la rai-
son.
médecins des maladies mentales. — 2. mauvais état nerveux du cerveau.
144 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [848]
Un hôpital d'un nouveau genre.
Il vient de se fonder, à Londres, un hôpital dont le besoin se faisait
vraiment sentir. On n'y traite ni tuberculeux, ni scrofuleux, ni phtisiques,
ni anémiques : on y soigne les petits oiseaux . . .
La directrice fondatrice de cet hospice est une jeune dame qui est aidée
dans son œuvre de bienfaisance ornilhologique par une demi-douzaine
d' « assistantes », des médecins et des chirurgiens.
« Le traitement, dit le prospectus, de ces petits malades ailés dont la
vie tendre exige de grandes précautions et beaucoup de patience, est des
plus malaisés. Aussi, l'institution répond-elle à toutes les nécessités : ins-
truments d'une finesse extrême pour réparer des pattes ou des ailes cassées,
pharmacie contenant des médicaments pour toutes les affections dont peut
souffrir la gent ailée, des lits composés de minuscules paniers garnis de
flanelles et de bassinoires, tout y est. »
Le nombre des pensionnaires est. en ce moment, paraît-il, de cent cin-
quante.
Un jour nous apprendrons qu'il vient de se fonder un hôpital pour clo-
portes rhumatisants ou hannetons anémiques.
Les éclipses.
Dans toutes les Indes Orientales, on croit que, quand le soleil et la lune
s'éclipsent, c'est qu'un certain dragon, qui a les griffes fort noires, les
étend sur cet astre ' dont il veut se saisir; et vous voyez pendant ce temps-
là les rivières couvertes de têtes d'Indiens qui se sont mis dans l'eau
jusqu'au cou, parce que c'est une situation très propre, selon eux, à obte-
nir du soleil et de la lune qu'ils se défendent bien contre le dragon. En
Amérique ^, on était persuadé que le soleil et la lune étaient fâchés quand
ils s'éclipsaient et Dieu sait ce qu'on ne faisait pas pour se raccommoder^
avec eux. Mais les Grecs, qui étaient si ralTmés, n'ont-ils pas cru longtemps
que la lune était ensorcelée et que des magiciennes la faisaient descendre
du ciel pour jeter sur les herbes une certaine écume malfaisante ? Et nous,
n'avons-nous pas eu une belle peur nous-mêmes, à une certaine éclipse
de soleil, qui, à la vérité, fut totale ? '* Une infinité de gens ne se tinrent-ils
pas enfermés dans des caves ? Et les philosophes -^ qui écrivent pour nous
rassurer, n'écrivirent-ils pas en vain ou à peu près? Ceux qui s'étaient
réfugiés dans les caves en sortirent-ils? En vérité tout cela est trop honteux
pour les hommes ; il devrait y avoir un arrêt^ du genre humain qui défen-
dît qu'on parlât jamais d'éclipsés, de peur que l'on ne conserve la mémoire
des sottises qui ont été faites ou dites sur ce chapitre-là ". Mais il faudrait
aussi que le même arrêt abolît la mémoire de toutes choses et défendît
qu'on parlât jamais de rien ; car je ne sache * rien au monde qui ne soit le
monument de quelque sottise des hommes.
FONTENELLE.
1. Le soleil ou la lune. — 2. Chez les Peaux-Rouges. — 3. se réconcilier. — l». En i65/|.
Ce que dit Fontenelle arriva en effet. Aujourd'hui le peuple est mieux renseigné. —
5. les écrivains éclairés et de libre esprit, sens vieilli. — 0. un décret. — 7. svr ce sujet.
• — 8. je ne sais, tournure encore correcte, mais un peu moins employée.
Les Cinq Langues
N" 19.
5 Jaillet 1908.
8^ Année.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
Gaston Boissier.
', Entre tous les articles nécrologiques qui ont paru après la mort de Gaston Boissier,
iin de M. Ebnest-Charles, dans le Gil Blas, nous a semblé particulièrement juste et
agréable dans sa brièveté. Ce sera sans doute l'avis de nos lecteurs.
Le charmant Gaston Boissier s'est laissé mourir, âgéde quelque ' quatre-vingt-
cinq ans. Il y a soixante ans, il était
célèbre déjà dans les milieux universi-
taires. Etre célèbre durant soixante
années, même dans des milieux res-
treints, ce n'est pas une affaire com-
mode... Elle devint facile pour Gaston
Boissier, parce qu'il avait de la science
et du talent.
Il écrivait avec une aisance agréable.
11 ne croyait pas que l'érudition dût
être sévère, et, pour ainsi dire, inacces-
sible aux braves gens qui ne sont pas en
mesure de faire la critique de source -.
Il lui plaisait de plaire. Et les lettrés,
qui ne croient pas avoir assez fait lors-
qu'ils ont lu un piètre roman contem-
porain, passaient, en la compagnie de
ce savant latiniste, des heures attra-
yantes.
Vous pouvez relire — car vous les
avez déjà lus — ces livres, qui ont pour
litres, Cicéron et ses amis, La Findu Paganisme, d'autres encore, les Promenades
archéologiques, par exemple. Vous ne prendrez, à les relire, nulle peine,
même légère. Et quel bon moment vous passerez ! Vous entrerez, comme à
votre insu, dans la société romaine elle-même et vous y entrerez de plain-pied...
Cela vous consolera de vivre à notre époque. Vous trouverez cela délicieux.
II fut un temps où nous prenions modèle en Allemagne et où nous ne vou-
lions plus tolérer que la science rébarbative. Gaston Boissier resta dans la
bonne tradition française. Tous nos savants y reviennent aujourd'hui. Et parce
qu'ils écrivent de façon avenante et que tous les gens cultivés peuvent profi-
ter de leurs travaux, ils n'en répandent pas moins une science extrêmement
solide et sûre.
Au reste, Gaston Boissier aimait son succès. Il écrivit naguère une biogra-
phie de Madame de Sf'vigné qui eut plus de vingt mille acheteurs. Et il se vantait
volontiers de ce triomphe de librairie pour une œuvre à la fois souriante et
grave. Il avait raison. Gaston Boissier était un sage. Imitons-le. Tâchons de
faire comme lui des livres qui se vendent et qui ne soient pas néanmoins
dépourvus de toute valeur.
Gaston Boissier.
I. crenviron. — 2. en remontant aux textes oi'iginaux.
[112]
FRANC. 19
146 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [890]
La bonne humeur.
Toutes choses humaines se partagent en deux catégories, les choses néces-
saires et les choses superflues. On peut quelquefois, a dit un humoriste, se
passer du nécessaire, jamais du superflu. Le budget de l'Etat s'établit solide-
ment sur ce jîaradoxe, et s'équilibre grâce au tabac et à l'alcool', deux articles
absolument superflus, qui font partie du nécessaire. La bonne humeur elle
aussi rentre dans cette classe de supertluités indispensables au bonheur et au
succès des individus et des peuples.
Qu'est-ce donc que la bonne humeur ou pour lui donner un nom plus
psychologique, l'égalité d'àme ? C'est une vertu modeste, la violette ^ des ver-
tus, une vertu qui s'efface devant d'illustres sœurs, telles que l'honneur, la
probité, l'énergie ; mais, au même titre, elle a sa place marquée dans la prati-
que morale de tout homme, de toute femme et de tout écolier. C'est l'art de
faire bonne mine à mauvais jeu, c'est la maîtrise de soi, môme au point de
regarder en souriant les soucis, les peines, les déboires de la vie. C'est une des
formes, c'est la plus française des formes de courage : devant un danger ter-
rible, dans un de ces cataclysmes qui bouleversent ou affolent, on se sent
exalté au-dessus de soi-même ; une flamme inconnue monte en nous ; et
c'est l'action d'éclat qui vous met dans la gloire, c'est le dévouement sublime
qui fait les héros ; cet élan surhumain, ce courage admirable naît pour un jour,
pour une heure ; et celle heure pour combien d'entre nous sonncra-t-elle ?
Ce qui nous attend tous, ce sont les mille piqûres d'épingle ^ de la vie, les
lietites luttes journalières sans poésie, sans grandeur, où l'àme la mieux trem-
pée verra peut être faiblir son énergie, sans l'aide puissante de la bonne humeur.
Ce qu'on appelle humeur, nous dit La Bruyère,, est une chose trop négli-
gée parmi les hommes, et Bossuet ajoute : « Nous agissons par humeur et non
par raison ». Cette parole est frappante. La raison vient à notre secours après
le premier mouvement, et ce premier mouvement, tout instinctif, est l'indice
de notre humeur, bonne ou mauvaise. 11 est quelquefois bien difficile à répa-
rer : On marche sur iria robe, on y renverse un verre de sirop ; le mouvement
premier est de dire : « Maladroit j), ou toute autre épithète peu aimable ; la
bonne humeur m'enjoint d'accepter avec grâce les excuses du coupable.
Bonne humeur : le professeur qui recommence et recommence la même
démonstration fastidieuse sans impatience; bonne humeur : le voyageur qui
manque la corresi)ondance, voit son train partir à trois mètres de lui et qui
ne voue pas la compagnie, l'ùt-ellc de l'Ouest, aux dieux infernaux ; bonne
humeur: l'enfant puni, même injustement, (|ui ne boude pas l'autorité ' ;
bonne humeur : l'abonné qui ne gratifie les demoiselles du téléphone d'au-
cun mot malsonnant, et les remercie poliment s'il obtient satisfaction ; bonne
humeur : la maîtresse de maison sans cuisinière qui fait cuire elle-même ses
œufs à la coque, sans récilminalion ; bonne humeur : le candidat vaincu qui
félicite son adversaire et lui tend la main après la bataille ; bonne humeur
plus méritoire : l'hoimiie de travail et de mérite à qui la vie est dure, qui
n'a ni jalousie des plus heureux ni acrimonie contre le sort et se console avec
les bonheurs à supporter ; bomie humeur : ceux qui, à tous les rangs de la
société, refusent de croire à la décevante malchance et, contemplant en face
les obstacles de la course qu'est l'existence, disent : « En avant ! » On échoue,
on recommence, sans rancœur, sans dégoût, avec ce joli courage qui refoule
au fond de l'àme loute faiblesse, et l'on finit par réussir le plus souvent. La
fortune sourit aux audacieux; être audacieux, c'est avoir confiance en soi ; la
confiance en soi n'est-elle pas une conséquence de la bonne humeur ?
I. On sait que le tabac cl l'alcool subissent en France de très lourds impôts. — 2.
La violette est l'emblème de la modestie. — 3. petits iucidi'iils di'sagréablcu. — !^. ne
garde pas d'irritation contre ses maîtres.
[891] PARTIE FRANÇAISE \'i1
L'art de faire rire, par contre, n'a rien à voir avec la bonne humeur, et tel
comique célèbre, hors de la scène où il met la salle en joie, quand il porte la
balte d'Arlequin ou la robe de chambre d'Argan •', reprend, dans la cou-
lisse, avec ses vêtements de ville, la tristesse et peut-être la maladie. Molière
n'a-l-il pas joué admirablement sur le bord de la tombe le Malade imaginaire ;
et les spectateurs ne riaient-ils pas devant ses soutîrances réelles qu'ils croyaient
être le jeu de l'acteur ? Et les malheureux, pitres, clowns, paillasses de tout
degré ? n'y a-t-il pas de quoi les rendre à jamais neurasthéniques, dans ce
fait que toute leur vie, malgré leurs peines, leurs chagrins privés, la souffrance
et la vieillesse, ils doivent venir nous divertir par leurs pitreries et leurs grima-
ces i' 11 faut une solide bonne humeur pour y résister.
Avoir de l'esprit n'est pas toujours synonyme d'avoir de la bonne humeur ;
avec elle, le mot spirituel n'est jamais méchant ; sans elle, le trait s'enfonce
profondément et blesse mortellement quelquefois de son dard empoisonné.
Nul n'a plus d'esprit que Voltaire ; nul n'a moins de mansuétude pour ses
semblables !
M'"'- Voisin.
5. Voir : Molikrk, Le Malade inuifiinnire .
Vieilles filles.
Voici une étude profonde mais dénuée de bienveillance, terminée par un beau
portrait, d'un admirable dessin, comme tous les portraits de Balzac. Naturellement, si
un de nos lecteurs veut nous envoyer un éloge de la vieille fille, nous sommes disposés
à l'insérer : ce sera l'antithèse après la thèse.
La vie habituelle fait l'àme et l'àmc fait la physionomie. Si tout, dans la
société comme dans le monde, doit avoir une fin', il y a certes ici-bas quelques
existences dont le but et l'utilité sont inexplicables. La morale et l'économie
politique repoussent également l'individu qui consomme sans produire,
qui tient une place sur terre sans répandre autour de lui ni bien ni mal ; car
le mal est sans doute un bien dont les résultats ne se manifestent pas immé-
diatement. 11 est rare que les vieilles filles ne se rangent pas d'elles-mêmes dans
la classe de ces êtres improductifs. Or, si la conscience de son travail donne à
l'être agissant un sentiment de satisfaction qui l'aide à supporter la vie,
la certitude d'être à charge ou même inutile doit produire un effet contraire,
et inspirer pour lui-même à l'être inerte le mépris qu'il excite chez les autres.
Cette dure réprobation sociale est une des causes qui, à l'insu des vieilles filles,
contribuent à mettre dans leurs âmes le chagrin qu'expriment leurs figures.
Un préjugé, dans lequel il y a du vrai peut-être, jette constamment partout,
et en' France encore plus qu'ailleurs, une grande défaveur sur la femme avec
laquelle personne n'a voulu ni partager les biens ni supporter les maux de la
vie. Or il arrive pour les filles un âge où le monde, à tort ou à raison, les con-
damne sur - le dédain dont elles sont victimes. Laides, la bonté de leur
caractère' devait racheter les imperfections de la nature; jolies, leur malheur
a dû être fondé sur des causes graves. On ne sait lesquelles, des unes ou des
autres '-, sont les plus diglies de rebut. Si leur célibat a été raisonné, s'il est un
vœu d'indépendance, ni les hommes ni les mères ne leur pardonnent d'avoir
menti au dévouement de la femme ^ en s'étant refusées aux passions qui
rendent leur sexe si touchant ; renoncer à ses douleurs, c'est en abdiquer
la poésie, et ne plus mériter les douces consolations auxquelles une mère a
toujours d'incontestables droits. Puis, les sentiments généreux, les qualités
I. un but, sens étymologique. — a. à cause de. — 3. pense le monde. — 4. des laides
ou des jolies. — 5. de ne pas s'Hre dévouées comme le fait la femme épouse ou mère.
148 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [892]
exquises de la femme ne se développent que par leur constant exercice ; en
restant fille, une créature du sexe féminin n'est plus qu'un non-sens : égoïste
et froide, elle fait horreur. Cet arrêt implacable est malheureusement trop
juste pour que les vieilles filles en ignorent les motifs.
Ces idées germent dans leur coeur aussi naturellement que les effets de leur
triste vie se reproduisent dans leurs traits. Donc elles se flétrissent, parce que
l'expansion constante ou le bonheur qui épanouit la figure des femmes et jette
tant de mollesse c dans leurs mouvements n'a jamais existé chez elles. Puis elles
deviennent âpres et chagrines, parce qu'un être qui a manqué sa vocation
est malheureux : il souffre et la souffrance engendre la méchanceté. En effet,
avant de s'en prendre à elle-même de son isolement, une fille en accuse long-
temps le monde ^. De l'accusation à un désir de vengeance, il n'y a qu'un pas.
Enfin la mauvaise grâce répandue sur leurs personnes est encore un résultat
nécessaire de leur vie. N'ayant jamais senti le besoin de plaire, l'élégance, le
bon goût leur restent étrangers. Elles ne voient qu'elles en elles-mêmes. Ce
sentiment les porte insensiblement à choisir les choses qui leur sont com-
modes, au détriment de celles qui peuvent être agréables à autrui. Sans se
bien rendre compte de leur dissemblance avec les autres femmes, elles finissent
par l'apercevoir et par en souffrir. La jalousie est un sentiment indélébile dans
les cœurs féminins. Les vieilles filles sont donc jalouses à vide^... Ainsi
torturées dans tous leurs vœux, les vieilles filles éprouvent toujours une gêne
intérieure à laquelle elles ne s'habituent jamais. N'est-il pas dur à tout
âge, surtout pour une femme, de lire sur les visages un sentiment de répulsion,
quand il est dans sa destinée de n'éveiller autour d'elle, dans les cœurs,
que des sensations gracieuses ? Aussi le regard d'une vieille fille est-il toujours
oblique, moins par modestie que par peur et par honte. Ces êtres ne pardon-
nent pas à la société leur position fausse, parce qu'ils ne se la pardonnent pas à
eux-mêmes. Or il est impossible à une personne perpétuellement en guerre
avec elle, ou en contradiction avec la vie, de laisser les autres en paix et de ne
pas envier leur bonheur.
Ce monde d'idées tristes était tout entier dans les yeux gris et ternes
de mademoiselle Gamard '■> ; et le large cei'cle noir par lequel ils étaient bordés
accusait '" les longs combats de sa vie solitaire. Toutes les rides de son visage
étaient droites. La charpente de son front, de sa tête et de ses joues avait les
caractères de la rigidité, de la sécheresse. Elle laissait pousser, sans aucun
souci, les poils jadis bruns de quelques signes " parsemés sous son menton. Ses
lèvres minces couvraient à peine des dents trop longues qui ne manquaient
pas de blancheur. Brune, ses cheveux jadis noirs avaient été blanchis par
d'affreuses migraines. Cet accident la contraignait à porter un tour '- ; mais ne
sachant pas le mettre de manière à en dissimuler la naissance, il existait sou-
vent de légers interstices entre le bord de son bomiet et le cordon noir
qui soutenait cette demi-perruque assez mal bouclée. Sa robe, de taffetas en
été, de mérinos en hiver, mais toujours de couleur carmélite'^, serrait un peu
trop sa taille disgracieuse et ses bras maigres. Sans cesse rabattue, sa collerette
laissait voir un cou dont la peau rougeàtre était aussi artistement rayée que
peut l'être une feuille de chêne vue dans la lumière '^. Son origine expliquait
assez bien les malheurs '^ de sa conformation. Elle était fille d'un marchand de
bois, espèce de paysan parvenu. A dix-huit ans, elle avait pu être fraîche
et grasse, mais il ne lui restait aucune trace ni de la blancheur de teint
ni des jolies couleurs qu'elle se vantait d'avoir eues. Les tons de sa chair
avaient contracté une teinte blafarde... Son nez aquiUn était celui de tous
les traits de sa figure qui contribuait le plus à exprimer le despotisme de ses
G. souplesse gracieuse. Le mot est pris dans le bon sens. — 7. les autres. — 8. sans raison
précise. — 9- Personnage principal du roman où nous avons pris cet extrait : Le
Curé de Tours. — 10. révélait. — ii. petites verrues. — 12. Faux cheveux placés autour
du front. Balzac l'appelle plus bas : demi-perruque.— i3. brune.— i4.par transparence,
naturellement. — i5. les imperfections.
[893] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 149
idées '^ de même que la forme plate de son front trahissait l'étroitesse de son
esprit. Ses mouvemeilts avaient une soudaineté bizarre qui excluait toute
grâce, et, rien qu'à la voir tirant son mouchoir de son sac pour se moucher à
grand bruit, vous eussiez deviné son caractère et ses mœurs. D'une taille assez
élevée, elle se tenait très droit et justiflait l'observation d'un naturaliste qui a
physiquement expliqué la démarche de toutes les vieilles filles en prétendant
que leurs jointures se soudent. Elle marchait sans que le mouvement se distri-
buât également dans sa personne, de manière à produire ces ondulations si
gracieuses, si attrayantes chez les femmes ; elle allait, pour ainsi dire, d'une
seule pièce, en paraissant surgir, à chaque pas, comme la statue du Comman-
deur *\ Dans ses moments de bonne humeur elle donnait à entendre, comme le
font toutes les vieilles filles, qu'elle aurait bien pu se marier, mais qu'elle
s'était heureusement aperçue à temps de la mauvaise foi de son Gancé, et
faisait ainsi, sans le savoir, le procès à son cœur en faveur de son esprit
de calcul **.
H. DE Balzac.
iG. M"» Gamard était impérieuse et intolérante. — 17. Voir Molière, Don Juan, acte V
— 18. Elle montrait qu'elle avait eu peu de cœur et beaucoup de calcul.
Les bouleaux du chemin *.
Ces lignes ont été écrites par le roi Oscar de Suède à l'âge de iS ans. Elles sont tirées
des OEuvres en prose, traduites en allemand par Emile Jonas et publiées à Hambourg.
(Librairie A. G.)
I
Un matin d'automne. Le globe embrasé du soleil venait de paraître à
l'horizon, mais ses rayons n'avaient pas encore réchauffé l'air frais. Sur la
route, je vis quelques bouleaux aux feuilles déjà jaunissantes. C'était la
fin de leur beau temps. Leur épanouissement, bien que bref, avait été
superbe dans cette splendide nature des pays du Nord. Quand les rayons
du soleil printanier eurent fait fondre la neige et la glace, quand les ruis-
seaux délivrés se mirent à murmurer doucement, quand l'alouette tout là-
haut, dans l'azur, fit entendre ses trilles, de tendres bourgeons pointèrent
aux rameaux dénudés, éclatèrent en feuilles qui se développèrent sous les
tièdes brises du printemps. Le bois de bouleaux se revêtit de la verte cou-
leur d'espérance. Et tant que l'été, ce dieu aux boucles de lumière, régna
dans les pays du Nord, les arbres jouirent de leur beauté épanouie. Inno-
cents et simples, ils se caressaient les uns les autres et olîraient une ombre
exquise au voyageur lassé par le brûlant soleil. Mais maintenant que Tété
si bref a fui les pays du Nord, voyez avec quelle résignation ils suppor-
tent leur destinée et comme ils laissent tomber le trésor de leurs âmes . Au
moment de leur humiliation et de leur malheur, ils sont là, admirant pour
ainsi dire le calme de cette heure matinale. On dirait qu'ils parlent au voya-
geur passant en hâte pour se rendre après le repos du dimanche à son
travail quotidien et qu'ils veulent éveiller en lui l'admiration et faire naître
dans son âme des pensées d'au delà.
L'homme, lui aussi, a son printemps, son été et son automne. Le prin-
temps est sa jeunesse, l'été son âge viril, l'automne sa vieillesse. Mais il
est vrai qu'en plein printemps l'homme peut sentir un vent d'automne, de
Voir les quatre autres parties.
iSO PARTIE FRANÇAISE [894]
même qu'à l'époque de l'automne peut passer un frisson printanier. Le
souci peut changer l'aube en crépuscule et le printemps en automne.
Quand la foudre a frappé l'arbre de vie, il lui est difficile de se relever, tout
au moins lui faut-il pour cela beaucoup de temps. Cela lui serait même
impossible sans l'aide d'hommes charitables qui soutiennent l'arbre chan-
celant et le forcent à rester droit Au désert, le palmier solitaire est rongé
par le sirocco juscju'à ce qu'il tombe en dépit de sa sveltesse et de sa force.
(A suivre.)
Le poète et les bêtes.
t.e poète Clovis Hugues aimait les bêtes. Voici comme il en parlait à notre ami et col-
laborateur Georges Docquois.
Ah ! les bêtes ! quels souvenirs j'ai gardés d'elles ! Quand j'étais tout
enfant, j'avais une grosse passion : c'était le martin-pêcheur. Il faut vous
dire que j'habitais dans le Yaucluse, à Velleroie, sur la rivière de la Sor-
gue, si poétiquement célébrée par Pétrarque, en un moulin que mon père
avait alfermé ' et qui était le rendez- vous des plus jolis martins-pêcheurs
du monde. Ils ne s'y arrêtaient pas longtemps, par exemple ^ ; et comme
ils filaient '^, les gentils oiseaux de topaze et de soleil !... Je me rappelle
que je faisais, avec les petits camarades, des courses absolument fantasti-
ques le long des rives plantées de saules et d'ormeaux, à la recherche du
nid oij nous devions trouver les mignonnes bêtes écloses. Hélas ! nous
trouvions quelquefois le nid, mais il était toujours vide. Du reste, si nous
avions découvert ce que nous cherchions, je me serais battu jusqu'au
dernier sang * pour empêcher les autres gamins de « gâter le nid »,
comme on dit chez nous. Plus tard, quand j'ai été ce qu'on est convenu
d'appeler un homme, j"ai essayé de traduire ces innocentes impressions
du bel âge en une pièce de vers quia paru sous ce titre : le Martin-pêcheur.
Vous ne sauriez vous imaginer combien j'aime cette petite pièce de vers,
non point pour la forme qui est, comme tout ce que j'ai écrit, le simple
reflet ■' rapide d'une chose éprouvée, mais pour l'espèce de fraîcheur
qu'elle me jette au front et dans l'Ame lorsque je la relis. Ah ! c'est qu'on
a rencontré, par la suite ", dans la vie, d'autres bêtes qui ne sont pas des
martins pêcheurs !. . .
J'ai aussi le souvenir d'une bonne chienne de mon père. \ous l'avions
appelée Flore, bien qu'elle méritât de s'appeler Diane, car c'était une chas-
seresse endiablée '. Un jour, comme elle avait beaucoup vieilli et qu'il
fallait la tuer, pour lui épargner des souffrances qui nous désolaient tous,
mon père, craignant qu'un étranger ne lui imposât une nouvelle torture
en l'abattant, se chargea de la lugubre exécution. Je le verrai toute ma
vie revenant à nous les yeux gros de larmes, quand la chose eut été faite.
« Elle me regardait si tendrement, nous dit-il, qu'elle avait l'air de vou-
loir me pardonner. » Je ne vous cacberai pas que cette triste fin d'une
chienne aimée m'a empêché très longtemps d'avoir des animaux.
Il y a quelques années, cependant, j'adoptai un petit chien qui était
venu s'installer dans les bureaux du journal la France, dormant dans les
ateliers, couchant sur les tas de journaux, vivant comme il le pouvait,
I. pris en location, à ferme. — 2. néanmoinx, familier. — 3. ils se sauvaifnl. — /i.j'uv-
(jxt'à la mort. — 5. reproduction — G. plus tard. — 7. forcenée.
[895] PAKTIE FRANÇAISE 151
quand il le pouvait. 11 élait noir de charbon, le jour où je l'emportai
sur les hauteurs de Montmartre * . Mes enfants lui firent un accueil enthou-
siaste. Nous lui cherchâmes tout de suite un nom et, comme il était blanc
sous son charbon, nous l'appelâmes Hlack '•*, pour faire honneur aux
contrastes de l'école romantique. Seulement nous eûmes beau le gâ-
ter "\ ses instincts de vagabond l'eurent vite repris et, un matin, adieu
mon Black ! Je le cherchai partout ; je suivis pendant trois ou quatre
jours tous les chiens blancs qui erraient sur la butte *'. Ce qu'il y a de
particulier, c'est que je ne pouvais guère donner son signalement, parce
qu'il ne ressemblait à rien. Je fus -^ le réclamer à la fourrière. Peine
perdue ! Mais un jour une petite fille du quartier le reconnut, je n'ai
jamais su à quoi, et elle nous le ramena triomphante. Ah ! ce qu'il fut
cajolé, le cher toutou '^ ! En pure perte ''% du reste, car il filait ^■' à nou-
veau, quelques semaines après, profitant d'une porte ouverte dans
le jardin, pour recommencer sa vie errante. Mais, comme je me méfiais,
j'avais eu le soin de le photographier et il est là, tenez, paisiblement
assis sur ses pattes de derrière, dans un cadre de luxe s'il vous plaît !...
J'ai souvent pensé à lui ; je me demande même quelquefois encore
s'il n'est pas tombé entre les mains d'un implacable vivisecteur.
Georges Docouois.
8. La hutte Montmartre, quartier de Paris on habitait Clovis Hugues. — <j. signifie
noir en anglais. — lo. le soigner lendreineiit. — ii. La butte Montmartre. — 12. J'allai.
— i3. chien, familier. — iti. vainement. — i5. il se sauçait.
Légende slave.
Dans un hameau de Bohême dont l'histoire ne fait pasmention\ vivait
une famille de très pauvres gens chargés d'enfants. Le travail, les priva-
tions et les soucis Jiiinèrent la santé de la mère. N'en pouvant plus-, elle
dut un beau jour s'aliter sur un grabat, et le surlendemain elle mourut.
On l'enterra dans l'humble cimetière du village.
Rentrés chez eux, le père et les orphelins trouvèrent plus triste que
jamais ■' la cabane où celle qui dormait son dernier sommeil avait toujours
vaqué si courageusement aux affaires du ménage. Le père puisa un peu
d'oubli et de distraction dans les tâches quotidiennes qui l'appelaient au
champ ou à la forêt. Les petits souffraient davantage du vide qu'avait laissé
la défunte. Le temps qui guérit toutes les blessures aurait aussi cicatrisé à
la longue celles des cœurs sensil)les, mais facilement oublieux des enfants,
si leur père ne s'était remarié.
Elle était jeune la femme qui vint remplacer leur mère. Sa figure n'était
point pâlie par les soucis ni ses joues creusées parles privations.
Au commencement tout alla bien. La belle-mère se montra douce, ave-
nante, affectueuse. Tout changea le jour où elle eut un enfant. Désormais
elle ne s'occupa que de lui ; elle oublia les pauvres orphelins, puis devint
pour eux une véritable marâtre et les maltraita sans cesse, sans que leur
père osât intervenir en leur faveur. N'y pouvant plus tenir *, ils se levèrent
un jour avant l'aube, se rendirent au cimetière pour raconter leur détresse
à leur mère et implorer son secours.
I. inconnu des historiens. — 2. épuisée. — 3. qu'autrefois. — 4- n'y pouvant plus résister .
152 PARTI K FRANÇAISE [896]
La lune éclairait encore la terre de sa lumière douce et argentée ; tous
les objets étaient encore revêtus des formes mystérieuses de la nuit lors-
qu'ils se levèrent et partirent. Leur toilette du matin fut courte, car ils cou-
chaient tout habillés sur quelques bottes de paille, sans oreillers ni cou-
vertures, sous un hangar où la bise les faisait grelotter, où la pluie et la
neige, entrant par les fentes, mouillaient souvent bs loques qui couvraient
à peine leur corps amaigri et souffreteux.
Tout doucement, ils sortirent, traversèrent le jardin et s'engagèrent ^
dans le sentier du cimetière. Arrivés près de la tombe maternelle, ils
tombèrent à genoux, joignirent leurs petites mains meurtries par les coups
et se mirent à prier. Leur prière fervente, entrecoupée de sanglots, balbu-
tiée par des lèvres qui tremblaient de froid et de peur aurait attendri des
cœurs de pierre.
— Oh ! chère maman, dirent-ils, pourquoi es-tu partie !* Pounpioi nous
as-tu laissés seuls •' Viens près de nous, viens caresser nos joues et lisser
nos cheveux. Notre nouvelle maman ne nous aime pas. Elle ne chérit que
notre petit frère, venu après ton départ. Nous voudrions enlever les mottes
de terre qui te recouvrent et descendre près de toi. Si tu ne peux sortir de
ta tombe, montre-nous du moins que tu entends nos paroles !
Aussitôt une touffe de fleurettes se mit à pousser sur la tombe, exha-
lant un parfum très doux. C'était, dit la légende, le signe visible de
l'amour maternel qui sortait du cœur de la- mère ensevelie pour consoler
les orphelins •"'.
A. Herdlicka.
b. pénétrèrent. — fi. Cette légende a paru déjà dans le journal scolaire V Ecole Nouvelle.
Désintéressement.
11 faut croire qu'aux États-Unis tout se monnaie en dollars, même
l'héroïsme.
Au mois de janvier dernier, une collision s'est produite entre deux
trains à New-Jersey. Parmi les voyageurs se trouvait un M. X.... de Phi-
ladelphie, qui, sorti indemne de la catastrophe, s'est empressé de porter
secours aux blessés. La Compagnie de chemin de fer, la Pensylvanic Rail-
way Co adressa à celui-ci ses féhcitations. Elle aurait bien voulu demander
pour lui une décoration quelconque, mais, ces hochets n'existant pas aux
États-Unis, elle se croyait donc quitte. Aussi ne fut-elle pas peu étonnée de
recevoir ces jours ci une facture où M. X... de Philadelphie tarifait ses
secours comme ceci :
10 i,5oo dollars et libre parcours à vie sur toutes les lignes de la Com-
pagnie, pour avoir éteint le feu qui prenait aux wagons ;
2° 4,ooo dollars, pour avoir tiré deux femmes de dessous les débris du
wagon ;
3° i,ooo dollars, pour avoir, à coups de parapluie, éteint les vêtements
en flammes d'un voyageur ;
4" 5 dollars pour le parapluie.
11 n'a oublié qu'une chose, le brave homme : se faire payer le relard que
l'accident lui a causé...
Les Cinq Langues
N" 20.
20 Jaillet 1908.
8^ Année.
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
Le neveu de la fruitière.
Le petit Lazare, le héros de cette histoire, vit confiné dans la boutique pleine de fumée
de son père le rôtisseur. Sa mère étant morte, l'enfant manque de soins. Marthe, une
tante, fruitière à Montreuil, réussit à enlever l'orphelin à son père afin de l'élever et de
le dorloter chez elle.
Le premiei' soin que prit la bonne lante, après avoir installé son neveu chez
elle, fut de lui apprendre elle-même à lire, ce dont le père Lazai'e ne se fût
jamais avisé : car, totalement dépourvu d'instruction, le brave homme n'en
connaissait pas le prix, et on l'eût bien étonné, je vous jure, en lui apprenant
qu'une des plumes qu'il arrachait avec tant d'insouciance à l'aile de ses oies
pouvait, tombée entre des mains habiles, bouleverser le monde. Le petit
Lazare apprit vite, et avec tant d'ardeur que linstitutrice était souvent
obligée de fermer le livre la première et de lui dire : « Assez, mon ange, assez
pour aujourd'hui ; maintenant, va jouer, sois bien sage, et amuse-toi bien. »
Et l'enfant d'obéir et de chevaucher à grand bruit dans la maison ou devant
la porte, un bâton entre les jambes. Quelquefois, l'innocente monture ' prenait
le mors aux dents. — « Mon Dieu ! mon Dieu ! il va tomber », — s'écriait alors
la bonne Marthe qui suivait l'écuyer des yeux ; mais elle le voyait bientôt
dompter, éperonner, diriger son manche à balai avec toute la dextérité et
l'aplomb d'une vieille sorcière ^, et, rassurée, lui souriait de sa fenêtre comme
une reine du haut de son balcon.
Cet instinct belliqueux ne fit qu'augmenter avec l'âge ; si bien qu'à dix ans,
il fut nommé, d'une voix unanime, général en chef par la moitié des bambins
de Montreuil qui se disputaient alors, séparés en deux camps, la possession
d'un nid de merle. Inutile de dire qu'il justifia cette distinction par des
prodiges d'habileté et de valeur. On prétend qu'il lui arriva même de gagner
quatre batailles en un jour, fait inouï dans les annales militaires. Mais son haut
grade et ses victoires ne rendirent pas Lazare plus fier qu'auj^aravant, et tous
les soirs le baiser filial accoutumé n'en claquait pas moins franc sur les joues
de la fruitière. Mais hélas I la guerre a des chances terribles et, un beau jour,
le conquérant éprouva une mésaventure qui faiUit le dégoûter à jamais de la
manie des conquêtes.
Voici le fait : comme il se baissait pour observer les mouvements de l'ennemi,
la main appuyée sur un tronc d'arbre et à peu près dans la posture de Napoléon
pointant une batterie à Montmirail, le pantalon du général observateur craqua,
et se déchira par derrière, où vous savez, laissant pendre et fiollcr un large bout
de la petite chemise que Marthe avait blanchie et repassée la veille. A cette vue,
les héros de Montreuil pouffèrent de rire, aussi fort que l'eussent pu faire les
dieux d'Homère, grands rieurs, comme chacun sait. L'armée se mutina ; le géné-
ral eut beau crier comme Henri IV dont il avait lu l'histoire : « Soldats, ralliez-
vous à mon panache blanc 1 » on lui répondit qu'un panache ne se mettait pas
I. Le hàton. — 2. On croyait jadis que les sorcières allaient au sabbat en chevau-
chant un manche à balai.
[118]
FRANC. 20
loi PARTI K FKANÇAISR [950]
là, et qu'on ne pouvait, sans faire injure aux couleurs françaises ', les arborer sur
une pareille brèche ; si bien que le pauvre général brisa sur le dos d'un mutin
son bâton de commandant et rentra dans ses foyers triste et penaud comme les
Anglais abordant Douvres après la bataille de Fontenoy... Ce nom me rappelle
une circonstance que j'aurais tort d'omettre, car elle influa beaucoup sur le
caractère et la destinée du héros de cette histoire. Un pauvre vieux soldat qui
venait de temps en temps chez Marthe, sa parente éloignée, fumer sa pipe au
coin de l'àtre et se réchauffer le cœur d'un verre de ratafia* n'avait pas man-
qué d'y raconter longuement comme quoi lui et le maréchal de Saxe avaient
gagné la célèbre bataille. Je vous laisse à penser si ce récit inexact, mais chaud,
avait dû enflammer l'imagination du jeune auditeur. Depuis lors, endormi ou
éveillé, il entendait sans cesse piaffer les chevaux, sifller les balles et gronder
les canons; et plus d'une fois, seul dans sa petite chambre, il se fit en pensée
acteur de ce grand drame militaire.
11 eût fallu le voir alors trépigner, bondir et crier :
« Tirez les premiers, messieurs les Anglais ! — Maréchal, notre cavalerie est
repoussée ! — La colonne ennemie est inébranlable ! — En avant la maison du
yq[o î _ ]3ravo ! le carré anglais est enfoncé ! A nous la victoire ! vive le roi ! » Le
pauvre Lazare se croyait pour le moins alors écuyer du roi Louis XV ou colonel.
Une pareille ambition vous fait rire sans doute ! C'eût été miracle, n'est-ce
pas, que le neveu de la fruitière pût s'élever si haut ? Oui, mais souvenez-vous
que nous approchons de 1789, époque féconde en miracles, et écoutez :
Lazare, engagé d'abord dans les gardes françaises, malgré les larmes de sa tante,
qu'il tâchait en parlant de consoler par ses caresses, ne tarda pas à devenir
sergent. Puis le siècle marcha, et la fortune de bien des sergents aussi. Enfin,
de grade en grade, il devint... — Colonel? — 11 n'y avait plus de colonels.
— Ecuyer du roi ? — Il n'y avait plus de roi. — Vous ne devinez pas ? Eh bien !
Lazare, le neveu delà fruitière, devint général ; non plus général pour rire, et en
casque de papier ; mais général pour de bon, avec un chapeau empanaché et
un habit brodé d'or, général en chef, général d'une grande armée française,
rien que cela, et si vous en doutez, ouvrez l'histoire moderne et vous y lirez
avec attendrissement les belles et grandes actions du général Hoche. Hoche
était le nom de famille de Lazare. Hâtons-nous de dire à sa louange que ses
victoires, bien sérieuses cette fois, le laissèrent aussi modeste et aussi bon que
ses victoires enfantines à Montreuil.
Aussi, lorsqu'un jour de revue il passait au galop devant le front de son
armée, il y avait encore, à une fenêtre près de là, une bonne vieille femme
qui couvait des yeux le beau général, haletante de plaisir et de crainte, et
répétant comme vingt ans auparavant : « Mon Dieu, mon Dieu ! il va tomber 1 »
Hégésippe Moreau.
3. Le drapeau français était blanc alors. — A. Sorte d'eau-de-vie. — 5. Nom que l'on
donnait à la garde royale.
Un scarabée historique.
M. Guimet vient d'acquérir, pour le compte du Musée qu'il a fondé, un sca-
rabée en grès, d'assez fortes dimensions, à la face inférieure polie et creusée de
caractères hiéroglyphiques, trouvé dans les fouilles de Bubaste, en Basse-Egypte,
par M. Bourian. Ce coléoptère était demeuré enveloppé dans un vieux papier
pendant la durée de la maladie du célèbre égyptologue, c'est-à-dire depuis
1898. L'inscription qu'il porte dans sa partie inférieure, enfin traduite, fixe un
point important de l'histoire : le premier périple accompli autour de l'Afrique,
[951] PAKTIE FRANÇAISE 155
par des navigateurs égyptiens, en l'an 599 av. J.-C. Voici la traduction à peu
près textuelle de ces quinze lignes :
« jo Le roi Néchao II a envoyé un messager i^our faire le tour de la Terre
mystérieuse (continent noir).
« 2" Ce messager acheva heureusement son voyage, revint par eau, après
avoir suivi le tour complet de la terre. 11 rapporte une cargaison et dit qvi'il
lui est arrivé des aventures merveilleuses.
« 3° Néchao II a reçu le messager à Bubaste et il a fait mettre par écrit tout
ce que le messager avait vu. »
Un second scarabée, tout pareil au premier, et originaire des mêmes fouilles,
a été acquis par le ÎMusée royal de Bruxelles : il précise la date de ce voyage.
Ainsi se trouve confirmé le récit fait par Hérodote (liv. 4, chap. 42), rappor-
tant que les membres de l'expédition envoyée par >îéchao II furent absolument
déroutés, après plusieurs mois de navigation, d'avoir vu le soleil qui se levait
dabord à leur gauche, apparaître soudain à leur droite.
Une communication à ce sujet a eu lieu récemment à l'Académie des Inscrip-
tions.
Les bouleaux du chemin*.
II
Mais, grâce à Dieu, le printemps peut aussi régner en plein automne.
Contemplez dans le bois ces bouleaux serrés. Ils vont se reposer durant
celte longue nuit d'hiver, satisfaits de leur Aie d'été. Après que l'hiver
aura fait rage, ils espèrent qu'un air plus doux, un soleil plus splendide,
un chant plus majestueux que le hurlement du vent d'automne les éveillera
à une vie nouvelle, à de nouvelles joies. Et c'est leur vie, cet incessant
passage de la naissance à la disparition, de la vie à la mort.
Et nous, nous qui souvent sommes ingrats quand le destin place un
obstacle en travers de notre route, nous qui blâmons le dessein de la Pro-
vidence et lui tenons tête, nous qui obéissant à des principes dictés par
l'orgueil, voulons créer une vie que nous croyons meilleure, quelles pen-
sées avons-nous ?
La promesse de printemps et de résurrection après l'automne delà vie
et l'hiver du tombeau, cette promesse déposée en nos cœurs n'est-elle pas
plus sage et plus réconfortante que celle qui a été faite aux autres créatures
dans le règne de la nature :' N'avons-nous pas reçu le don de nous grouper
comme les bouleaux des bois pour cheminer ensemble en confiance et en
amitié par les sentiers de la vie ? Et ce don n'est-il pas plus précieux que
beaucoup d'autres choses dont le prix est inestimable aux yeux de ceux qui
tiennent au monde? Pourquoi désespérer i' Le printemps, après l'hiver
du tombeau, ne passera jamais pour nous, car il est éternel et impérissable.
Il est plus merveilleux que tous les printemps terrestres. Le soleil y sera
Dieu lui-même et nous y serons les anges.
Pourquoi l'amitié éprouvée ici-bas ne subsisterait-elle pas là-haut?
Pourquoi ne pas croire qu'elle y sera plus forte qu'ici-bas? Oui, l'amitié
qui a uni les hommes au temps où ils vivaient, où ils travaillaient, où par
des voies différentes ils ont poursuivi le même but, celte amitié subsis-
* Voir les quatre autres parties.
1S6 PARTIE FRA^ÇAISE [952]
tera encore, une fois le but atteint, elle nous suivra dans l'éternel prin-
temps par un plus beau matin de printemps, au son de chants printaniers
plus splendides et elle sera le meilleur souvenir que nous posséderons
d'une vie terrestre évanouie et d'un automne glacé.
(Fin.)
Contes de la Vieille France*.
VII
Grisélidis.
Grisélidis avait été bergère; son seigneur, touché de sa grâce et de sa
beauté, l'avait épousée. Or, quoique, devenue châtelaine, elle eût des pages
pour la servir et des hommes d'armes pour l'escorter, quoiqu'elle fut revê-
tue de velours, de brocart et de fourrures coûteuses, son cœur était demeuré
ingénu. Femme d'un puissant baron, mère d'une fdlette déjà belle et d'un
garçon déjà robuste, elle était sans orgueil et sans égoïsme ; ses pensées
n'allaient pas vers elle, mais vers les autres. A son lever elle se disait :
« Comment faire passer aux miens une journée heureuse? » Etle soir, avant
de s'endormir, elle se demandait : « Ai-je aujourd'hui fait tout mon devoir
et mérité mon bonheur? « Assurément nulle créature humaine ne fut plus
digne de respect et d'amour. Et comme il arrive quelquefois que la vcitu
ait ici-bas sa récompense, tous avaient pour Grisélidis de la vénération.
Lorsque, dans la campagne, elle se promenait sur sa paisible haquenée,
tous les i'ronts s'inclinaient bien bas devant elle ; les bêtes elles-mêmes
tournaient vers elle des regards tendres; et le vent semblait faire flotter
comme une caresse autour d'elle ses longs voiles blancs. Lorsqu'elle
s'asseyait sous le dais seigneurial à la table de famille, époux, enfants,
écuyers et valets contemplaient son fin et délicat visage avec autant d'ado-
ration que si c'eût été le visage d'un ange.
Un soir pourtant, comme elle allait prendre sa place accoutumée, elle
s'aperçut que son siège avait disparu et qu'au lieu de deux hauts fauteuils
en chêne, surmontés du dais, il y en avait seulement un. Elle s'arrêta
interdite sur le seuil de la salle et regarda son époux. « Grisélidis, lui dit
celui-ci, désormais vous ne vous asseoirez plus parmi nous. Vous aiderez
les valets et vous mangerez avec eux à la cuisine. » La pauvre femme blê-
mit et, d'une voix qui tremblait, demanda : « Ai-je commis quelque faute,
mon seigneur? — Non, Grisélidis, mais telle est ma volonté. — J'obéirai,
mon seigneur. » Une semaine durant elle servit à table, mangea dans la cui-
sine, et de sa bouche il ne vint pas vme plainte, et dans ses yeux clairs il
n'y eut que de la douceur.
La semaine écoulée, comme elle remportait un plat vide, un appel de
son époux l'arrêta. « Vous êtes, lui dit-il, pour une servante, trop élégante
d'habits et de coiffure ; laissez ces bijoux, couvrez-vous de grosse toile et
demeurez tête nue. » — « Mon seigneur, j'obéirai » dit Grisélidis; et, pen-
dant une semaine, elle fit office de servante, accoutrée comme la plus
pauvre des paysannes .
* Voir les Nos 5, 8, ii, i3, i5 01,17.
[953] PARTIE FRANÇAISE ! 57
A la fin de la semaine, comme elle se retirait, son époux la fit rester encore
et, devant les enfants, les pages, les écuyers muets de stupeur et de déso-
lation, il lui signifia qu'il prenait une autre femme et que, conséquem-
ment, elle eût à loger dans une petite mansarde, au loin, sous le toit du
château. Cette fois Grisélidis crut qu'elle allait s'évanouir. Elle se raidit
pourtant sous ce nouveau coup. Affreusement pâle, mais silencieuse, elle
alla humblement baiser la main de celui qu'elle aimait, puis, sans un mot,
quitta la grande salle où, à la lueur des lampes, ctincelait la vaisselle d'ar-
gent. Le lendemain une femme, plus jeune qu'elle, splendidement costu-
mée, fit dans la cour d'honneur une entrée solennelle et, parmi la valetaille
respectueusement inclinée, Grisélidis s'inclina elle aussi devant sa rivale.
11 y eutle soir un festin où des convives innombrables vidèrent des tonneaux
de vin et dévorèrent des sangliers entiers ; des trouvères, au son des luths
et des violes, chantèrentles exploits de Charlemagne; l'empereur à la barbe
ileurie ; et, pendant que se déroulait la fête, pendant qu'éclataient les rires
grossiers, dans le fracas des plats heurtés et des pieds remués, Grisélidis,
pareille à une souris, comme elle menue et de gris vêtue, allait et venait sans
bruit ; sur un signe du maître, elle remplit le verre de la mariée. Quoique
sa main tremblât, son pur visage demeura calme. Et pourtant les valets
eux-mêmes avaient les larmes aux paupières.
Sept jours passèrent et ce fut un nouvel ordre. Mais quel ordre, celui-
là ! « Grisélidis, dit son époux, il me plaît que vous quittiez le château,
seule, pour n'y plus revenir. Embrassez votre fils, votre fille, et dites-leur
adieu. » Et il fit avancer les deux enfants qui, éperdus, se jetèrent au cou
de leur mère. Elle poussa un cri déchirant et les serra follement contre sa
poitrine, toute secouée de sanglots. L'instinct maternel allait-il vaincre l'es-
prit d'obéissance? Non : elle écarta d'elle ses deux petits ; mais elle tourna
vers le maître une figure suppliante, si bouleversée que, parmi les assistants,
il y eut un sourd murmure, que même les durs hommes d'armes pleurè-
rent. Le baron demeura impassible. Alors, une dernière fois elle baisa les
boucles blondes ; une dernière fois elle reput ses yeux de ces joues fraîches
qu'elle avait tant caressées jadis, de ces bouches vermeilles dont le balbu-
tiement avait été si cher à son cœur .... puis, la tête basse, sans se retour-
ner, elle partit.
Elle traversa la cour. Elle franchit le pont-levis. Elle arriva sur la route.
Un grand arbre s'élevait sur un talus vert. A bout de forces, elle s'abattit sur
l'herbe, remercia Dieu de la faire mourir et perdit connaissance.
Quand eUe revint à elle, elle se trouva couchée dans le lit conjugal, et ses
deux enfants mouillaient ses mains de leurs pleurs ; son mari, l'envelop-
pant de ses bras, penché sur elle, guettait anxieusement son retour à la vie.
La chambre était pleine d'écuyers et de gentilshommes également anxieux.
Et quand elle ouvrit ses yeux bleus, ce fut comme une tempête d'acclama-
tions joyeuses. Alors on lui révéla que, conseillé sans doute par le diable,
le baron avait voulu l'éprouver, qu'il avait voulu voir jusqu'à quel point
irait la constance de cette parfaite épouse. Publiquement ce rude homme
lui demanda pardon des doutes injurieux qu'il avait conçus, des souffrances
cruelles qu'il lui avait infligées. Publiquement, genou en terre, il lui jura
une affection éternelle, dans ce monde et dans l'autre. Et toute l'assistance
cria « Noël ! » comme devant un miracle. N'était-ce pas un miracle en
effet que tant d'amour joint à tant de soumission en une seule femme ?
Max Jasinski.
158 PARTIE FRANÇAISE [954]
Le vieux célibataire.
Diibriage, vieux garçon de 65 ans, reçoit la visite de Georges, son filleul et
son portier.
Georges [de loin, à part.)
Ils sont sortis, entrons.
DuBRiAGE {se croyant seul encore.)
Oui, j'ai moins de chagrin
Quand Charle ' est avec moi : nous causons.
Georges {de loin, ci part.)
Bon parrain 1
Il parle et n'a personne, hélas ! qui lui réponde.
Approchons.
Dubuiage
C'est toi, George ? Où donc est tout le monde?
Georges
Tout le monde est dehors.
Dubriage
Madame Evrard ^ aussi ?
Georges
Elle aussi : chacun a ses affaires ici.
Et moi de leur ahsence, entre nous '\ je profile
Pour vous faire, monsieur, ma petite visite :
Je ne vous ai point vu depuis hier au soir.
Dubriage
Moi j'ai de mon côté grand plaisir à le voir.
Georges
Vous clés tout pensif.
Dubriage
Cest cette solitude.
Georges
Vous devez en avoir contracté l'habitude.
Dubriage
On a peine à s'y faire. .. et le temps aujourd'luii
Est sombre : tout cela me donne un peu d'ennui.
Georges
Vous êtes malheureux. Jamais je ne m'ennuie :
<^u'il fasse froid ou chaud, du soleil, de la pluie,
Tout cela m'est égal ; je suis toujours content.
Dubriage
Je le vois.
Georges
Je bénis mon sort à chaque instant,
Car si je suis joyeux, j'ai bien sujet de l'clre.^
D'abord j'ai le bonheur de servir un bon maître,
Un cher parrain ; ensuite, à l'emploi de portier
I. Domestique de Dubriage. On observera que, dans cet extrait, Cliarles et Georges sonl
orthographiés Charle ci George. C'est une licence poétique encore tolérée aujourdhui,
pour la conimodilé de la versification. — a. Gouvernante de Dubriage. — 6. je le Uts a
tovs seul ,
[955] PARTIE FRANÇAISE 1S9
J'ai, comme de raison ^ joint un petit métier :
Une loge ^ ne peut occuper seule un homme.
Et puis, écoutez donc ^, cela double la somme.
Je fais tout doucement ma petite maison
Et j'amasse en été pourl'arrière-saison \
DUBRIAGE
C'est bien fait. D'être heureux ce George fait envie.
Georges
Ajoutez à cela le charme de la vie :
Une femme : la mienne est un petit trésor.
Elle a trente ans ; je crois qu'elle embellit encor.
Point d'humeur "^ ; elle est gaie, elle est bonne, elle est franche ;
Elle aime son cher George. Oh ! j'ai bien ma revanche " !
Dame ! c'est qu'elle a soin du père, des enfants !....
Aussi, sans nous vanter, les marmots sont charmants.
Sans cesse autour de moi Ton "' passe, l'on repasse :
C'est un mot, un coup d'œil, et cela me délasse.
DuBRIAGE
Mais cela te dérange.
Georges
Un peu ; mais le plaisir !
11 faut bien se donner un moment de loisir :
Cela n'empêche pas que la besogne n'aille ^' ;
Car moi, tout en riant, en causant, je travaille.
(// indique par gestes le mclierdc laillciir.)
Mais quand, le soir, bien tard, les travaux sont finis.
Et qu'autour de la table on est tous réunis
(Car la petite bande '- à présent soupe à table'),
Si vous saviez, monsieur, quel plaisir délectable !
Je me dis quelquefois : « Je ne suis qu'un portier,
Mais souvent clans la loge on rit plus qu'au premier. »
Dubriage
Chacun est dans ce monde heureux à sa manière.
Georges
Ah ! la nôtre est la vraie, et vous ne l'êtes guère,
Heureux ! C'est votre faute aussi ; car, entre nous.
Pourquoi rester garçon ? Il ne tenait qu'à vous
Dans votre état '^, avec une grosse fortune.
De trouver une femme et dix mille pour une '^
DlBRIAGE
Que veux-tu ? j'ai toujours aimé le célibat.
Georges
Célibat, dites- A^ous ? C'est donc là votre état ?
Triste état, si, par là, comme je le soupçonne,
On entend '^ n'aimer rien, ne tenir à personne !
Vive le mariage ! 11 faut se marier,
II- comme il est naturel. — 5. \om que porte encore le logement du concierge.
— G. songez-y. — 7. pendant la maturité potir la vieillesse. — 8. point de mauvaise humeur,
— 9. je l'aime bien aussi. — 10. Sa femme, bien entendu. — 11. que je ne travaille beau-
coup et bien. — 12. les enfants. — i3. votre situation. — i4. tant que vous en voudrez, â
choisir. — i5. on veut.
Î60 PAKTIE FRANÇAISE [956J
Riche ou non ; et, tenez, je m'en vais parier,
Que si quelqu'un offrait au plus pauvre des hommes
Un hôtel, un carrosse, avec de grosses sommes
Pour qu'il vécût garçon, il dirait : « Grand merci,
Plutôt que d'être riche et que de l'être ainsi,
J'aime cent fois mieux vivre au fond de la campagne.
Pauvre, grattant la terre, auprès d'une compagne. »
Dl'briage
Assez !
Georges
Ce que j'en dis, c'est par pure amitié.
C'est que vraiment, monsieur, vous me faites pitié.
COLLIN d'HARLEVlLLE.
Souvenirs d'enfance.
Je n'ai vu mourir ni mon père ni ma mère ; je leur étais cher, et je
ne doute pas que leurs yeux ne m'aient cherché à leurs derniers
moments
Il est minuit. Je suis seul, je me rappelle ces bons parents, et mon cœur
se serre quand je pense à toutes les inquiétudes qu'ils ont éprouvées sur
le sort d'un jeune homme violent et passionné', abandonné sans guide à
tous les fâcheux hasards'- d'une capitale immense^.
Une des choses qui m'aient fait le plus de plaisir, c'est le propos bourru
que me tint un provincial quelques années après la mort de mon père.
Je traversais une des rues de ma ville ; il m'arrête par le bras, et me dit :
« Monsieur Diderot, vous êtes bon ; mais, si vous croyez que vous vaudrez
jamais votre père, vous vous trompez. » Je ne sais pas si les pères sont
contents d'avoir des enfants qui valent mieux qu'eux ; mais, moi, je le fus
d'entendre dire que mon père valait mieux que moi.
Je crois, et je croirai tant que je vivrai, que ce provincial m'a dit vrai.
Quelle tâche* mon père m'a imposée si je veux jamais mériter les hom-
mages qu'on rend à sa mémoire !
Un des moments les plus doux de ma vie, ce fut, il y a plus de trente
ans et je m'en souviens comme d'hier, lorsque mon père me vit arriver du
collège, les bras chargés des prix que j'avais remportés, elles épaules char-
gées des couronnes qu'on m'avait données et qui, trop larges pour mon
front, avaient laissé passer ma tête.
Du plus loin qu'il m'aperçut, mon père laissa son ouvrage% il s'avança
sur la porte et se mit à pleurer.
C'est une belle chose, un homme de bien qui pleure de joie !
...Maintenant, je suis seul, je me rappelle mes bons parents, et mon
cœur se serre. Je ne sais ce que j'ai, je ne sais ce que "j'éprouve. Je vou-
drais pleurer. 0 mes parents ! ô ma mère, toi qui réchauffais mes pieds
froids dans tes mains !
Diderot.
I. ardent. — a. dangers de toute sorte. — 3. I^aris. — !i. quels devoirs. — 5. Le père
de Diderot était coutelier.
TABLE DES MATIÈRES
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
I. — Actualités.
Pages.
Pour et contre Rousseau. . . i
Sully-Prudliomme Max: Jasins-
Kl) ! 9
Oscar II, roi de Suède .... 4 g
Les lettres de la reine Victo-
ria 53
Une noble vie 65
Une réception à l'Académie
française 06
Le roi Carlos de Portugal ... 77
Carducci 97
Haïti (M. J.) io5
Edison chez lui [O. Uzanne) . . 108
Emile Gebhart 121
Erançois Coppée (Max Jasinsri) 187
Gaston Boissicr (E. Chaules) . i45
II.
Poésies.
Les blessures (Sully- Pru-
dhomme)
Cri perdu (Sully-Prudhomme
Automne (P. de Bouchauu)
Petites villes (E. Ar.nal) .
L'héritage (II. Potez) . .
Le monstre (G. Docquois)
Les souvenirs du peuple (Béran
ger)
Douceur de vivre (E. Ar^al)
Paysages (P. A. Massy) . . .
Rêves d'avenir (B. Reynolu) .
La souffrance cherchée (P. de
Bouchaud)
La maison (G. Docquois) . .
Soir d'automne (E. Boucher)
L'idéal (E. Arnal)
Tableau rural ( François Goppée)
Croquis de banlieue (François
Coppée)
29
37
42
52
58
69
79
lOl
110
116
126
189
189
Pages.
Cheval de renfort (François
Coppée) 189
Au bord de la Marne (François
Coppée 189
Aux bains de mer (François
Coppée) i4o
Matin d'octobre (François
Coppée) , . i'io
III. — Traductions.
Les trois chansons (Uiila>d) . 6
A la lune (Léopardi) .... i5
Le pauvre et le riche (Frères
(iRIMM) 23, 81, 38
Sarah Bernhardt et Edison
(Sarau Bermiardt) .... 47
Sur un paysage hollandais
(Lenau) 54
L'avare (Lessing) 56
L'empereur François - .Joseph
(Léopold 1) 60
La mort d'un héros (F. W. Van
Oësterex; 70, 79, 86, 92, 100, 109
Le calme de la mer (Goethe) . 85
Le Dôme (Giulio Orsim) 91, 100,
107
Le pin et le palmier (Henri
Heine) io4
Le coussin de la comtesse Con-
falonieri (P. Maroincelli). . 117
Gœthe (Emehson) . 126, 108, i43
Les bouleaux du chemin
(Oscar II) 149. i55
IV.
Dialogues. — Théâtre.
Oncle et neveu (A. de Musset) i i
Une fille à marier (Picard) . . 26
Trop d'honneurs ! (Marivaux) 60
1G2
PARTIE FRANÇAISE
958]
Pages.
Une si tua lion terrible (Sedaine) 83
Bourgeoise et marquise (Dais-
court) 89
Médecin pour dames {PoI^sI-
ket) i3i
TiC vieux célibataire (Collin
d'Harlemlle) loS
V. — Variétés historiques
et géographiques.
L'île d'Ouessant (Claude àiset) 2
Le voyageur à Rome (E. Alber-
TINl) 17
Enterrements et fêle des morts
en Corse (V. Forot) .... 22
Sur un paquebot (G. de Ner-
val) 3o
Une auberge espagnole (V. Fo-
rot) .35
Phiho (P. Loti) ^5
Après Waterloo (L A. Rayeur) 62
La Corse moderne (Ch.DupuGH) 78
Paysage de Lorraine (Anatole
Frange) 82
Le Japon et les fleurs (Clive
IIolland) gS
L'enterrement de la sardine
(V. Forot) 106
Notes de voyage (H. Tlrot) . 12/1
En Flandre (R. Blanchard). . 129
Les castes dans l'Inde (R. de
Gourmont) i3o
VI. — Variétés scientifiques.
Le problème de l'azote (Henri
Coupin) 18
Le marbre artificiel 87
Les animaux à fourrure (Henri
Coupin) /j3
Les bœufs sauvages en Angle-
terre (Henri Coupin) ... 76
Elevages singuliers (Henri Cou-
pin) ii5
VII. — Variétés littéraires.
[Critique, contes, fantaisies.)
Un citoyen utile (Max Jasinski). /|
La reine des poissons (G. de
Nerval^ 6
Science et littérature (M. Sou-
ri au) i3
Mort d'un avare (H. de Bal-
zac) 19
Pages.
Flaubert (Max Jasinski) ... 25
La mort de Torquato Tasso
(1\ DE Bouchaud) 33
Contes de la Vieille France
(Max Jasinski) :
I . Le seigneur à la cruche. Sg
II. Confiance mal placée . G3
III. Le paysan et l'enchan-
teur Merlin 87
IV. Mécontente de son sort. 102
V. L'oiseau bleu .... 118
VI. Le testament de l'âne . i34
VII. Grisélidis 106
La dinde de Noël (Max Ja-
sinski) 4i
Béranger (Max Jasinski) ... 5o
Histoire de Pierre la Barbe-
grise (Laboulaye) 5A
La jeunesse de Giosué Car-
ducci (P. DE Bouçhaud). . . 57
Ce qu'enseigne la lecture des
poètes (H. l^OTEz) 59
La mort et le bonheur (E.
Cuauvët) 67
Les origines populaires de
l'art (Potier) 7I
(^e qu'on a dit de nous (R. de
Gourmont) Si
La rose et le papillon (B. de
Saint-Pierre) 82
Chemineau (Henri Caude-
velle) oa
La littérature et l'éducation
(A. Croiset) II 3
La mort d'Agrippine (E. Geb-
hart) 122
Le merle (Henri Caudevelle). 127
La bonne huiueur(M™« Voisin). i/iO
Vieilles filles (H. de Balzac) . 1^7
Légende slave (Herdlicka). . i5i
Le neveu delà fruitière (Hégé-
sippe Moreau) i53
Souvenirs d'enfance 'Diderot). iGo
VIII. — Curiosités. —
Historiettes.
La Morue 5
Médecine expéditivc 8
Cbezlesaveugles (M"« Jonchade) i4
La Meule (Franklin) .... 16
Chasses gratuites aA
Voyage dans la lune (Fonte-
nelle) 32
Prix de vertu 36
Gaîtés du cimetière /|o
19591
TABLE DES MATIERES
163
Pagfs.
Histoire de chasse '|8
Grandes roules et sentiers (M.
Gênés) 7^
Un voleurattrapé (P. Chalmet). 72
Un peuple gai (FoMENELLE). , 80
Double aventure 95
Un mot de Rossini u'J
L'esprit d'à-propos lo/i
Souvenirs sur Ibsen (Cl. Anet). m
Déguisement macabre .... 120
Un peintre expéditif i36
Chez François Goppée (G.
DOGQUOIS) lll
Génie et folie i43
Un hôpital d'un nouveau genre 1 4 4
Les éclipses (Fontenelle). . . i44
Le poète et les bêtes (G. Doc-
QUOIS) i5o
Désintéressement i53
Un scarabée historique. ... i54
IX. — Illustrations.
Pages.
J. 13. Corot 5
Sully- Prudhomme 9
Flaubert ^^
Le Tasse ^o
PhiUe 46
Oscar II 49
Giosué Garducci 57
Maurice Donnay 'oQ
Dom Carlos 77
Sedaine 84
Marchand de fleurs japonais . 98
Henrik Ibsen 112
Crocodile "5
Dakar. La fêle du i4 Juillet . 124
Cathédrale de Boulogne-sur-
Mer i34
François Coppée 187
Gaston Boissier i4â
Les Cinq Langues
N° 1.
5 Octohre 1907.
8« Année.
PARTE ITALIANA
Miscellanea.
La. ferrovia Chary onix-Martigny .
L'importanza sempre crescente che assume di anno in anno la valle di
Chamonix corne cenlro di esciirsioni e di villeggiatura aveva da lungo
tempo fatto sorgcre l'idea di farla attraversare da una linea ferroviaria che
si sarebbe poi riallacciata alla rete svizzera. — Finalmente si risolse di co-
striiire una l'errovia a trazione elettrica.
I lavori furono intrapresi nel 1902 e ora, in capo a cinque anni, la parte
pin difficile puo dirsi compinta, e non resta piîi che a costruire il tratto
compreso nella regione francese fra la stazione di Chatelard e il villaggio
d'Argentière in terreno relativamente piano.
Quanto al lavoro compiuto è veramenle meraviglioso, ed è impossibile
farsi un'idea, senzaaverle constatate coi propriocchi, délie difficollà enormi
che sono state superate. Ghiacciai, precipizi, senlien a pioco', tntto è stato
varcalo vittoriosamente.
La lunghezza totale délia linea è dicirca 20 chilometri, e il trngitto richie-
1. perpendicolari.
[5]
ITAL. 1
PARTE ITALIANA
[34]
derà circa tre ore, comprese le fermale. Fra Vernayaz e Salvan questa fer-
rovia è a crémaillère, ogni vagone è lungo 17 metri, ed il treno piiô in tutto
contenere 100 persone oltre i bagagli e le mercanzie. Moite deliziose loca-
lità, fra cui la cosi detta Vallorcina, in grazia di qiiesta linea non tarderanno
a divenire luoghi ricercati di villeggiatura.
Una protesta di Giovanni Pascoli.
Corne tutti sanno ormai, Tillustre poeta Giovanni Pascoli, benchè roma-
gnolodi nascita,hascelto corne sua
dimora — nei mesi che gli restan
liberi dall' insegnamento universi-
tario a Bologna — il villaggio di
Barga in Toscana.
Or ecco che a Barga si è prodotto
qnesto incidente : due anni or sono,
al momento délie elezioni ammi-
iiistralive, il Pascoli, che di Barga
I' cittadino onorario, ottenne tutti
i voti. — Ma il poeta non era
iscritto siille liste e perciô non era
eleggibile , quindi l'elezione fu
nulla. Per diventare eleggibile si
iscrisse, ma ora, aile nuove elezioni,
non ottenne piii nessun voto. Il
poeta, ginstamente ofteso, inviô al
sindaco del coimine nna lettera in
cui rifiuta la citladinanza onoraria.
Ecco il testo délia lettera :
i/Z"'" Si(j. Sindaco prof. Giu-
liani,
Ella sa bene : duc anni sono -
tutti i vofi; quest'anno nessuno.
Allora non ero eleggibile, ora si, allora ero eletlo, ora no.
Si poteva aspettareche gli elettori, quest'anno, intendessero dimostrare che
due anni prima avevano votato il mio nome, proprio per eleggermi. Ma no :
essi hanno dimostrato che mi diedero il voto soltanto qiiando era corne non
dato. Il che non è una carezza, per un ospite di Barga, quai son io, punto
smanioso d'entrare e brigare e pesare nel Comune non nativo, e pur sem-
pre predisposto, in questa mia terra adottiva, a servir tutti e ognuno in ciô
che poteva e puô.
Non è una carezza, non davvero, ne un onore. E perciô, se bene in co-
scienza io creda di non meritare questo sfregio e quindi non me ne turbi e
contristi molto, non si turbi e si contristi la S. V, III. se anche per parte mia
io respingo e rinunzio quella ciitadinanza d'onore che il 15 maggio 1897 il
Consiglio comunale mi decretava, e che il 28 luglio 1907 gli elettori mi
hanno ritolta. Chè gli elettori hanno tacitamente, ma chiaramente, detto
che nessun onore Barga riceve da me e che nessun onore io merito da l.ei,
sia. Resto contrihuente, lieto se il mio contributo e quello di tutti mercè
la saviezza délia S. V. 111. e del Consiglio sarà dedicalo primamente e
principalmente a favorire i centri di abilazione, che ne mancano, di acqiia
sana e sufficiente e di puliti appositi degni edifizi scolastici ; se, insomma
mirera a cio che è sopra tutto necessario alT igiene del corpo e alla igiene
delTanima. Giovanni Pascoli.
Giovanni Pascoli.
2. due anni or sono, due anni fa.
[35] PARTE ITALIANA
Perché il gallo è il simbolo délia Francia.
Si parla spesso del coq gaulois, quale emblema di Francia.
Un gallo, infatti, sormonta il limpano * del Louvre, nel lato orientale de!
grande cortile quadrato ; un altro gallo soUeva la cresta sul portone del
giardino delTEliseo ; dal 1889, finalmente, il gallo francese si drizza siii
siioi sproni^ nelle monete d'oro délia repiihblica di Francia.
Nondimeno, qiiesto gallo eraignoto presso i Francesi, prima del secolo XVI.
NeU'antichità, allorchè scoppiavauna rivoltanella Galliatransalpina, i Romani
dicevano Gallus ea»tat, scherzando sul doppio significato latino délia parola
galiiis. Ma i Galli non avevano punto il bipède pennuto per emblema, corne
Homa ha la lupa, Torino il toro, Venezia il leone alato e Napoli il cavallo.
Fincliè la Gallia rimase allô stato di barbarie, fu divisa in molti popoli
nemici Ira loro e non ebbe alcun emblema nazionale. Allorchè divenne
romana, il gallo apparve raramente e saltuariamente ■'.
Sopra 10,413 monete antiche conosciute e classilicate, se ne trovano a
série di cenlinaia che recano cavalli, lupi, cervi, cignali, tori, arieti, câpre,
aqùile, allodole, corvi, gru e cicogne ; soUanlo quaitordici portano il gallo
e sono monete dell'Aquitania e non délia Gallia celtica.
Il gallo, invece, ricorre frequentemente nelle monete d'Itaca e di Troia e
in quelle di Campania e di Sicilia.
Nel Medio-Evo non v'è traccia del gallo. Bisogna arrivare al 1546, nella piena
rinascenza classica,per trovarvi un accenno nelle parole con che un ilaliano,
Pietro, vescovodi (3rvieto,interruppeDanes, ambasciatorelVancese, alConcilio
di Trento.
L'ambasciatore parlava conlro i prelati italiani e il vescovo Pietro grido :
Gallus cantat !
La vera origine del gallo conie emblema di Francia, è questa :
Il 1" gennaio del 1655, .1. Passerai, professore d'eloquenza al Collegio di
Francia, pubblico una poesia latina sul gallo, sacro a Marte e cosi valoroso
come i Galli, donde conchiuse che aveva dato il nome alla Gallia col verso :
Praectarumque simul tribut tibi, Gallia, nomen !
Da questo momento la Gallia fu personificata nel gallo presso tutti i popoli
pei quali il latino era ancora lingua viva.
In Italia, nel 1601, fu coniata una medaglia per la nascita del tiglio di
Enrico IV, quel che fu poi Luigi XIII, rappresentante un gallo presso un
bambino, il quale liene in una mano unoscettroe neU'altra un giglio.
Nel 1730, a Parigi, per festeggiare la nascita di un Delllno di Francia, ventie
incendiato un fuoco arlificiale rappresentante un editizio. Un libretto
esplicativo, pubblicato allora, dice che « nella loggia di destra è rappresentalo,
in un medaglione, il gallo simbolico délia Francia ».
Per Tastuccio d'una carta délia foresta reale di Fontaineblau , il re
Luigi XVI aveva inciso all'acqua forte le coq gaulois.
Il re Luigi Filippo doveva credere davvero aU'origine celtica del gallo come
enbiema, poichè il 10 di agosto del 1839 ordinô ch'esso sormontasse l'asta
délie bandiere militari.
L'ordinanza reale fu controlîrmata dal ministro Guizot, il quale, come
osserva G. Dupont-Ferrier, nel « Journal des Débats », non si ricordô, in quel
momento, d'essere uno storico insigne E il 17 settembre dello stesso anno,
il gallo fu messo suUa bandoliera e sui bottoni dei gendarmi.
Ma il gallo e la polizia possono andar d'accordo : il primo è l'emblema
délia vigilanza ; la seconda dovrebbe esser sempre vigile.
[Il Risveglio italiano.)
1. fronton. — 2. zampe. — 3. a intervaili.
PAHTK ITALIANA [36]
Gl'Italiani del mezzodî giudicati dal Goethe
In un' intéressante pagina il dotto critico italiano Cesare Ue LoUis riferisce l'opi-
nione che intorno agli Italiani del sud il Goethe espresse nel suo Viaggio in Italia
e la pone a confronte con quella del Yolkmann, autore a que' tempi d'un libro équi-
valente aU'odierno Baedeker.
Il Goethe apprezzava molto la guida del Volkmann, e se ne servi utilmente
nel suo viaggio atlraverso la penisola, ma in quanto poi ad accellarne i
giudizi arlislici, gli apprezzanienti altorno agli usi e ai coslunii.era un altro
aff'are. Quelli il Goethe si riservava di giudicarli coi propri occhi eil proprio
cervello.
Cosi avvenne quando si trattô di apprezzare la vita del popolino napole-
tano. Ecco che cosa ne scriveva il Volkmann : « Il paese è bello e fertile ;
il caraltere degli aljitanti che risponde al loro cielo, lahiUidine di non métier
da parte, ma di vivere alla giornata ', tutte queste ragioni fan si che gl'Ita-
Jiani non siano tanto assidui ai loro negozi e non provvedano all'avvenire con
allrellanlo ïjtudio ■^ quanto gli artigiani e commercianli d'altri paesi, dove
molle son le privazioni che i genitori s'impongono per meglio educare i
propri tigli e procurar loro col lempo una buona occupazione. Il méridio-
nale pensa aff'allo diversamenle e non conosce questa maniera d'ambizione.
Egli cerca di godere il présente ed al fuluro non pensa. Un tal modo di
ragionare trova luogo sollanto in un paese dove è quasi sempre sovrabbon-
danza dei mezzi naturali délia vila ».
Il Goethe, pur riconoscendo in parte i fatti, vide pero più addentro e più
profondamenle ; lissando sulle più piccole e recondite manifeslazioni délia
rumorosa vita napolctana quei suoi grandi occhi che tante verità pene-
trarono, si accorsecome il Volkmann, e tanti altri Tedeschi con lui, melte-
vano anche nel novero dei « fannulloni » lutta quella gente il ciii lavoro
si compie per via : faccliini, pescatori, barcaiuoli, calessari^, venditori ambu-
lanti d'ogni génère e d'ogni età, rivenduglioli, mondezzai, ortolani, acquaioli ;
e li metlevano Ira i « fannulloni » perche quelli accompagnavano il lavoro
coU'allegria, perché lavorando si godevano il sole, perché nelle pause del
lavoro, ritnanevan per islrada invece di rincasare, perché insomma nel
lavoro, oltre la vita, cercavano la gioia délia vila e non si dimostravano
quello sfoi'zo ch'é caratteristico del lavoralore del Nord.
Ma quello sforzo, osservava il Goethe, é una consegucnza délie condizioni
naturali del paese. L'uomo del Nord non lavoraper la giornata, molto meno
per Tora ; egli ha e deve sempre avère di mira, oltre al présente, l'avveni-
re ; e questa doppia preoccupazione aumenta il suo sforzo e corruga, durante
Topera, la sua fronte. L'uorao del Nord, egli osserva ancora, del suo lavoro
non puô, pur troppo, dar spettacolo sulla slrada ; la stanchezza, comei frutti
del suo lavoro, egli deve smaltirli ^ Ira le pareil délia casa.
L'uomo del Nord è porlato alla grande iudustria, che impone un lavoro
metodicamenle ordinato, dalla vitaraccolla allaquaie il clima del suo paese
lo condanna. Ma allrellanlo quanto essa, è legitlima la piccola industria
dalle mille forme svarialeche il napolelano esercila sui marciapiedi délie vie,
agli angoli dei vicoli, sulla soglia d'un porlone, e ch'è in perfetia relazione
colla facilita délia vita di cui natura voile gralificar quei paesi,
Sicché il Goethe arrivô per proprio conlo a concludere che l'induslria
bisogna in Napoli cercarla specialmente Ira la classe più bassa. Sopratutlo
lo colpisce, queat'industria, nei bambini, che altrove, abbandonali cosi a se,
parrebbero degni d'immensa pielà, laddove ■■ sul laslrico délie vie di Napoli
1. au Jour le jour. — 2. diligenza. — 3. ûacclierai. — 4.spacciarli, consumarli. —
5. nientre, invece.
[371 PARTE ITALIANA
appaion lasciati liberi al pascolo per qiiella leygenaturale clie a cerli nccelli,
sotto certi climi, consente di razzolars Ira le sloppie ■ non appena sgusciati
dalTiiovo. E la loro operosità egli classifica con una precisione e iina com-
piaccnza che inteneriscono. Non glisfuggono quelli che raccallano frasche o
scbegge di legnaaie nell'arsenale o altrove ; e neppur quelli che ?i scaldan
le manine sulle lastre délia via che la fiammata d'un fabbro ha riscaldale.
Curvo in osservazione su quel gruppo di « scimmiette », com'egli amorevol-
mente li chiaiiia, egli esercila cosi quel suo meraviglioso dono d'osserva-
zione che ha sempre applicato durante lutta la vita, e che lo fece penetrare
cosi addentro nel giudicar le cose : cosi in una coscienza umana, couie
iK'iranatornia d'un uiarnniitV.ro; cosi nolle latebie » di un cervello corne
nelle forme complesse della vita di un popolo,
6. (jratler. — 7. chaume. — 8. nascoiidi^li.
I figli di Carlo Alberto allô studio,
È un intéressante articolo che {tubblica la Nuova Anlulogia (V^\V\\\^\\\\^^ l'asci-
colo, in base aile carte e ai registri lasciati dal Padi-e Lorenzo Isnardi. scolo-
{)io, che fu precettore dei Priucipi Vitlorio — di poi re Yittorio Enianuele II
— e Ferdinando di Savoia, negli anni 1831-1837.
L'articolo comincia col darci Torario secondo cui era ri[)artita la giornata
(Ici reali fanciulli, quaudo essi conlaxano rmio die<'i e Taltro uovc aiuii.
Ecco quest'orario :
Uisveglio e preghiere dalle 5 aile u 1/2.
Studio e lezioni dalle 5 12 aile 8.
Goiazione, messa e riposo dalle 8 aile 8 3/4.
Equitazione (Pr. Vitlorio) i
Visita a S- M. la Regina. [,,„,. , [ dalle 8 3/4 aile 10.
„. .. Pr. herdinando \
Giniiastica. f * ' )
Uisegiio (Pr. Vitlorio). J . n m n ha
r lî f /n f V I \ "l'^"^ 10 aile H.
Lalugrafia (Pr. Ferdinando). ]
Studio e lezioni dalle 11 ail' 1.
Pranzo e Ricreazione dall' 1 aile 2.
Ballo 0 Scherma dalle 2 aile 2 1/2. "
Passeggio dalle 2 1/2 aile 4.
Ësercizi ginnaslici e militari dalle 4 aile 5.
Studio e lezioni dalle 5 aile 1 1/2.
Cena dalle 1 1/2 aile 8.
Visita a S. M. la Regina (l'r. Vitlorio) ) _^^^^^ ^ ^^^^ ^ ^ ^
Ricreazioni (Pr. Ferdinando) )
Lettura e Preghiera dalle 8 1/2 aile 9.
A letlo aile 9.
Una lal)oriosa giornata, couie si vede !
Nel suo registro il Padre Isnardi segnava giornahnente l'argonieuto délie
lezioni, apponendovi délie note circa il contegno e il prolitto dei piccoli priu-
cipi, e giornalmente poi questi i-egisti-i erano presentati alla Regina, che ne
faceva parola ai fanciulli nella visita che essi ogni di, corne api)arc dalfoi'ario,
scparatamente le facevano.
La vita dei due principi è lutta in quei registri : in essi le quattro opera-
zioni, il Bonato, VEpitome, le Favole di Fedro, le ^ite di Cornelio Nipote,
i teoi-emi geometrici, le lettere di Plinio e Tito Livio, Tucidide e le frazioni
PARTE ITALIANA [38]
s'altei'iiaiio colle funzioni religiose, iiiiii gita a qualche reale castello, iina par-
ti ta di caccia.
Diversi del tutto pero i risultati degli studi per cio che riguarda i dvie pi'in-
cipi. Mentre Ferdinando appare dai registri laborioso, diligente, attento, Vit-
torio è continuamente tacciato^ di negligenza e svogliatezza.
« 11 Pr. Vittorio è sempre addormentato » dice il registro a più riprese; e
infatti Vittorio, qiianto più appariva Aivace e chiassoso nel parco di Monca-
iieri, e doviuiqiie si trattasse di esercizi del coi'po, tanto piîi mostravasi
svogliato e disti'atto nella sala di studio.
« 11 Pr. Ferdinando molto imjjara e {)iù intuisce, dice ancora il registro; al
Pr. Vittorio riesce assai grave lo studio délie lingue e più quello délie raate-
matichc » e dopo \in paio danni di insegnaniento il Pr. Isnai-di proi)Oneva che
si desistesse- del tutto di insegnargli il latino.
A poco intatti servivano gli aninionimenti del precettore e deirottima regina
Maria Teresa. Vittorio, buono, atiVttiioso, rispettoso, niostrava i)ei'0 una resi-
stenza passiva a tutti gli amiuonimenti, e continuava a restare tranquilhunente
indifférente agli studi.
Ma, come ben dice Farticolo, la gloria del primo re dltalia non resta dimi-
nuita da qnesti fatti, ne mène simpatica ci appare per essi la figura del re ya-
lanliionio ; chè anzi tin d'allora il Pr. V' ittorio rivela la bontà e generosità délia
sua indole, incapace di rancore verso Finflessibile precettore, di invidia (|ual-
siasi i)er il fratello sempre pin elogiato di lui.
Il biion Vittorio, appena tinita l'ora di studio, si affrettava a dimenlicarne
tutte le amarezze e fin d'alloi-a dedicô al Padre Isnai'di tal memore affetto che
il tempo non valse ad attenuarlo; e quando gli anni lo cbbero chiamato a ben
altre cure che non fossero le traduzioni e i teoremi, re Vittorio, più volte
ancora, scrisse airaiilico maestro, chiamaiidolo car issimo padre e coutiiniaiiilo
a niiti'ire per lui raffettiu)so ossequio del discepolo.
1. accusato, incol[);ito. — 2. Iralasciasse.
I tre canti *.
Ue Sil'rido tien corte : — Arpeggiatori,
il più bel canto quai di voi ini sa'.' —
E un giovinetto esce di scliicru Inori,
snello : in nnui l'arpa, spada al lianco egli ha.
— Tre canti, o re, so io. Del primo c spento
da tempo ogni ricordo entro il tuo cuor :
tu mhai niorto ' il fratello a tradimento :
tu m'hai morto il fratello o tradilor,
l/altro canto una notte, e urlava forte
il turbine, una notte, ebbi a pensar :
tu hai da pugnar meco a vita e morte,
a vita e morte hai meco da pugnar. —
E appoggia l'arpa al tavolo ; e già fuorc '•
traite han le spade arpeggiatore e re;
|)ugnano a lungo con liei'O fragore
huche cade nell'alta sala il re.
* Vedi le altre quattro parti. — 1. liai fatto morire (modo poco usato). — 2. fuori
(modo poetico).
139'
PARTE ITALIAPIA
— Or canto il tcrzo, il canto mio più vago,
ne mai stanco a ridirlo mi farà.
Giace Sifrido re nel rosso lago
del sangiie suo, morto nel sanyue sta.
L. IJULAND.
(Veisione di G. Carducci.)
Una Rondine.
Poclii istanti fa, io era ancora sdrajato presso la finestra. Sentite corne
cade fitta la poggia? Io guardava la pioggia e pensava : nulla di
strano : nnll'altro fanno tutti gli uo-
niini e per tutta la vita : guaidano e
pensano.
I tetti, su cui la pioggia scorre da
moite ore, hanno oggi una lucidità
quale io non ho mai veduta : ieri, qui
intorno alla mia tinestra, io vedeva tutta
una festa di rosso cupo che si inseguiva,
che si perdeva per l'azzurro del cielo
abbracciandolo : e le tegole ' allineate,
gaje sotto la gloria del sole come pic-
coli soldati pronti ad una rivista ; e i
coniignoli- bianchi come elmi plumati
di generali molto grandi, su i soldati
molto piccoli.
Oggi invece tutto è triste : il rosso dei
soldati è quasi nero, e il bianco dei ge-
nerali è fangoso. Pur tutto è lucido,
di una lucentezza olivastra ed azzurra-
stra: i tetti hanno rifrazioni metalliche
come Fali délie cornacchie, e la pioggia cade, per l'aria senza vento,
diritta, rigida, continua.
Una rondine, che solca rapida Io spazio per posarsi in una piccola
alcova di marmo sulla loggia del campanile, mi ricorda un'ora lontana
simile a questa. Anche in quel giorno, io accompagnava il mio pensiero
al ritmo eguale délia pioggia, sdrajato presso la tinestra. Era un acquaz-
zone estivo, e l'aria rombava di tuoni senza tregua. La rondine, che in
(|ueiranno era venuta a posare il nido poeo luugi dalla mia linestra, vi
stava tutta stretta per evitare i goccioloni.
Pochi giorni prima, essa aveva dato le aie ^ a' suoi nati : io l'aveva
vista guidarli amorosamente dall'orlo del nido fino al tetto di fronte,
accompagnarli poi a più larghi voli per l'aria azzurra, pigolando, chia-
mando, sorreggendo. Quel giorno le rondinine eranofuggite fin dal mat-
tino, e la madré le aveva lasciate andare, mandando a loro, che f'uggi-
vano lontano, un ultiino cousiglio in un ultimo cinguettio. Poi aveva
1. tuiles.
•2. camini. — 3. aveva dato il volo.
PARTE ITALIANA [40]
riassestato il nido ed era aiidata tutto il giorno volando qua e là, un po'
smarrita, un po' triste nel trovarsi sola.
Quando il cielo aveva cominciato arnmoreggiare, la rondine era venuta
rapida al nido e vi si era fermata molto inquiéta. Si adagiava un istanle
per riniontare tosto su 1' orlo, spiando se un vélo lontano solcasse 1' oriz-
zonte, su cui le nuvole salivano con rumore digrani riversati. E pigolava
echianiava. Nel suo squittire era tutta l'ansia délia sua piccola anima di
rondine e délia sua grande anima di madré : perché le sue piccine non
venivano a traverso l'uragano minaccioso ? Perché non sentivano la sua
voce chiamante piii che ilcrepitare dei tuoni ? Bene i tigli devono sentire
la voce che s"alza dal nido quando la tempesta minaccia intorno alla
loro vita. (Continua.)
Ercole Rivalta.
Una risposta di spirito.
Giorni sono al pittore Dall'Oca Bianca, uno degli artisti più geniali del
Veneto, è giunta la seguente letterina — le solite importune richioste dei
collezionisti di autograti :
Genlife signore,
Vengo a pregarla d'un gran favore e spero vorrà scusarmi délia libertà
che mi prendo. — Faccio una raccolta di cartoline dipinte a mano. e sarei
ben lusingato, scella fosse cosi gentile di mandarmi una cartoiina con un
soggetto qualunque scgnalo dalla ûrma. Sarà certo la cartoiina più pre-
giata délia mia collezione e in spécial modo, perché potrô dire che Ella
lu tra i primi, che voliero onorarmi in tal modo.
6' .. 7... Trieste, Via S... n. 9.
Con tutta stima, ringraziandola anticipatamente.
^\.. T. .
H Dall'Oca liianca, che è anche ima persona di spirito, si allVeltù a ri-
spondere con la seguente letterina :
Genlile aignore,
Yengo a pregarla di un favore. e spero vorrà scusarmi délia libertà che
mi prendo.
Kaccio una raccolta di cartelle da mille, e sarei ben lusingato se ella
fosse cosl gentile di mandarmene una. Sarà certo la cartella da mille piîi
pregiata délia mia collezione, perché potro dire che Ella fu tra i primi
che voliero onorarmi in taie modo.
Con la speranza di riceverne una, mi permetto di darle il mio indi-
rizzo.
Angelo Dall'Oca Bianca
Verona, Via santa .Maria Rocca Maggiore, n. 13
Con tutta stima, la ringrazio anticipatamente.
Aneelo Dali/Oca Bianca.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 2,
20 Octobre 1907.
8« Année.
PARTE [ÏALIANA
Miscellanea,
Utribria verde.
L'Esposizione di Periigia ha ridestato in Italia, e più ancora.forse, tra gli
stranieri l'altenzione e l'animirazione per rUiiibiia,qiie.sla bellaprovincia che
si protende fra la mite collina délia Toscana e la monlagna rnpcstre dell
Abruzzo, dove la natura e Tarte han prodigato tanto sorriso.
Il Noak nella Kdlnische Zeitung ricorda gli stranieri che maggiormente
amarono qiiesta contrada: dalT Overbeck', il caposciiola dei Nazareni che al
principio del secolo scorso fre(mentava con i discepoli queste colline e queste
chiese, contem])lando i cbiostri t'rancescani con occhio noslalgico, al reLodo-
vico di Baviera che intorno al 1820 fece lunga dimora nella nobile cittk; —
mentre Gabriele Mdiirey snlla Grande Revue, nel siio articolo Regards sur
l'âme ombrienne, rievoca la storia niedioevale delle ciltà nmbre, ancor visibile
nei moniuiienli, nelle rocche - e nelle chiese, e il contrasto fra la l'erocia
delle lotte intestine e l'aspirazione mistica cosi ben espressa dalla snapittura.
Numerosi frattanto accorrono i visitatori alla niostra, attratti piii ancora
che dair Esposizione — pur cosi armoniosa e originale — dal paesaggio
stesso. Infatti, nel cuore d'Italia, le valli dell' Umbria rimangono conie un
oasi pei sognatori di tutto il mondo, e nelT aria trasparente e dolce sembra
oscillare ancora il sorriso e il canto del poverello d'Assisi '^ . . .
* *
Cor cordium.
A Percy Shelley, il gentile poetache meritô il nome di « cuor dei cuori »,
i'ii inaugnrata in questi giorni una lapide, in
qiiella casa di San Terenzo dove egli ebbela sua
iiltima dimora. Partito, come si sa, su lieve
scafo ^ (la Livorno, egli naufragô miseramente.
L'epignife, dettata da Ceccardo Roccatagliata
Ceccardi suona :
« Da qucsto portico in cui si abbatteva l'an-
tica ombra di un leccio — il luglio del
MDGCCXXII — Mary Godwin e Jane Williams
altesero con lagi'imante ansia — Percy Bysshe
Shelley — che da l.ivorno su fragil legnoveleg-
giando — era approdato per improvvisa t'ortuna
— ai silenzii delle isole elisee. — 0 benedette
spiagge — ove Tamore la libertà i sogni — non
hanno catene».
Percy Shelley.
Negli uitimi giorni d'agosto sul colle dell' Olen
1. pittore telesco che imitô i Pciinitivi. — i. fortezze, castella. — 3. S. Francesco
d'Assisi (1182-122G) clie fu pure poeta. — 4. barca.
[11] "AL. 2
iO PABTE ITALIANA [82]
presso (iressoney, a iiOOOm. fFaltezza, fn inaut^nrato un laboratorio scionli-
fico per lo studio sistemalico délia natura fisica a quell' allitudine.
Proniotoredi questo laboratorio fii AngeloMosso, autore délia Fisiologia
delV uomo sulle Alpi, il quale, concepitane Fidea, diramô un invito aile
Università eslere, perché volessero participare ail' erezionedcl laboratorio e
poi ai lavori scientifici.
Aderirono i govcrni di Gcrmania, Francia, Aiistria, Svizzera, Stati IJniti.
L"edificio si compone di un corpo principale liingo 26 nietri e largo 8, di
due corpi avanzati proiondi 7 nietri ; esso ha tre piani edè délia complessiva
altezza di 10 metri e mezzo. Al pianterreno si trovano i laboratorî di fisiolo-
gia ehatteriologia, di hotanioa ezoologi a, in ampie sale perte ttamen te disposte;
dietro, separate da un corridoio centrale, la sala da pranzo, lacucina, il gazo-
nietro e un niagazzino. Al primo piano c'c la bibliotcca, e diciassctte stanze
da letto, piccole ma linde e graziose, che per primo ospite hanno avuto il
professore Fuchs diErlanden. Al secondo piano non si trovanoche trestanze
ad Hso del personale di servizio, un laboratorio di meteorologia ed nno di
tisica terrestre.
E adesso le nevi immacolate altondono i coi-aggiosi clie, per l'amore délia
srienza, si confineranno per settimano e mesi fra le bianche solitudini.
Costantino Nigra.
Neir occasione délia morte dell' insigne diplomatico, avvenuta nelloscorso
agosto, moite parole di ammirazione c di rimpianto furon scritte in Italia.
Tra gli allri Alessandro d'Ancona, il venerando storico délia ietteratura
italiana, ebbe a dire dol Nigra, il quale, chi non lo sapesse, fn pnre in gio-
ventii un ardente cnltore délie lettere belle e un élégante poeta. Sopratutto
nello studio delle letiorarie discipline* lo attirava quel palrimonio di poesia
popolarc disseminato per la penisola, nelle canzoni, negli stornelli, nelle
ballate che su lia bocca dei figli del popolo passano di generazione in gene-
razione. Fu questo amore, ch'egliebbecomune col d'Ancona, che lo avvicinô
al futuro autore délia Poesia popolare in Italia.
« Ci vedetnmo spesso, dicc il d'Ancona. tra il 1854 e il '55, ne credo che
a lui afl'alicato nelle cure politiche, spiacessc ritornare un momento a quelle
indagini, cominciate con ardore nella prima giovinezza e ora dovute soltanto
interrottamente proseguire.
« Più spesso ci vedemmo negli anni '58 e '59 al « Café de Paris » 2. Quando
all'ora délia colazione non vi capitava, intendevo che dovesse esser andato
per missione del contediCavour,a Parigi. Al ritorno, nessuna indiscrezione,
s'intende, per parte mia : nessuna, s'intende anche meglio, per parte sua :
ma scrutavo nei suoi occhi. sentivo nella sua voce, indovinavo nella sua
voglia di discorrere 0 di tacere se il tempo cra a burrasca 0 al sereno. Ma ne
l'uno ne l'aitro ci vietavamo qualche accenno aile speranze, che allora arri-
devano a tutti, Ricordo che una mattina del '59 prolungammo i colloqui
fin sotto i Portici di Po e volemmo pigliarci un po' di sole invernale fine a
Ponte su] Po ; e godendo di queslo calore esterno e di quelle che avevamo
entro di noi, egli a un tratto si fermô e proruppe in queste parole : — E dire
che fra tre o quattro mesi potremo passeggiare come oggi, in Piazza San
Marco! — Dio lo voglia! — io risposi ; ma, per allora almeno, Dio no'l
voile. »
i. materie. — 2. a Torino.
|83J PARTE ITALIANA 11
E più oltre narra il d'Ancona :
0 Fra i parecchi aneddoti da lui racconlatimi, uno ne trascelgo, caratteri-
stico quanto mai, che si riferisce ai fatti del 1859. AU'anniinzio dei prelimi-
nari di Viiiafranca, il conte di Cavour correal Quartier Générale pieniontese,
coU'aninio seonvollo e quasi uscito di senno pel dolore di veder alterato e
troncato il programma délia liberazione « dalle Alpi uU'Adriatico ». Giunse a
notte inoltrataalla presenza del Re. Si assevera, ma su ciô il Xigra sorvolava,
che non lutte le espressioni sue di risentimento, e quasi diremmo di indi-
gnazione, fossero misurate nel riinproverare VittorioEmanuele di aver aderito
a quel patti. Ma il Re, il Gran Re, che li aveva sottoscritti solo « in quanto
lo concerneva », comprese quale doveva essere la condizione del suo niini-
stro in quel momento, emai non perdette la calma. E qui vorrei poter riferire
l'ultima parle del colloquio in quella stessa forma originale vernacola ^, con
che il is'igra la raccontava, e mi si perdonerà se lo faccio in un pieniontese
nongenuino, ma approssimativo, specialmente neila orlogratia del dialetto.
Ma con un po' di buona volontà da ambe le parti, io scrivero ed altri cer-
cherà d'intendere.
« Quando dunque alla viva contestazione succedelle il silenzio e il Conte ebbe
replicatamenle e fermamente otferte le dimissioni sue e dei coUeghi del
Ministero, il Re si volse al iNigra, che assisteva in disparte, e gli disse :
« Nigra, a i è '1 cont d' Cavour ca voeul andè a cougiesse : ca l'acompagna^ » :
e aggiunse che poi tornasse. E quantio fu ritornato, riprese : « Ca vada a
ciamè '1 gênerai La Marmora ' ». Quando quesli gli venue dinnanzi, Vittorio
Emanuele loinlbrmô délie dimissioni del Ministero, e lo incaricô di formarne
un altro. « Mi? — replicô il générale : — Maestà, badinla?'' » Ma il Re non
scherzava; e amareggiato com'era che in quel difficile moinenlo non trovasse
volonterosi e pronli i suoi consueti cooperatori, proruppe in queste parole :
« Ah, lour a fan i bulo, i eroi, e as na van, e an m' lassan mi a rangiè i so
embrôi''! » 11 fedele e leale uomo non replicô ; e il Re aggiunse che per la
maltina dopo gli portasse la lista dei nuovi rainistri. Poi, chiamato nuova-
mente il Nigra : « Nigra — gli disse — a i è '1 gênerai La Marmora ca voeul
andè a cougiesse : ca l'acompagna ».
« Ecosi fu risolta quella crisi ministeriale. E ci vollero ancora parecchi mesi
perché Cavour rilornasse al timone délia nave, e si riunissero insieme per
raggiungere la riva quelle duc forze, il Re e il gran ministro, che gli eventi
allora disunivano. Forse il conte di Cavour quella notte non dormi : ma tor-
nato il di appresso alla sua solitudine di Lari, ricominciô, per fortuna sua e
d'italia, a tesser la tela rimasta interrotta in quella triste notte al Quartier
Générale. Ma quale dovelte allora essere la tempesta subilanea, entro quella
testa poderosa! E quanta era l'autorità morale ed effettiva, e il possesso di se
medesim.) e l'avvedutezza di re Vittorio! Ah! quali tempre d'uomini ebbe
ritalia nel ricostituirsi a dignità di nazione ! »
3. dialettale. — 4. c'é il conte di Cavour che vuol andarsi a corkare. Vaccom-
pagni. — 5. Vada a ckiamare il tjenerale ... — 6. /o . . . Vostra Maestà scherza. —
l.Àli, loro fanno i bravi, gli eroi, è se ne vanno e lasciano nie ad aggiustan; i pasticci.
— 8. (coine sopra).
Danae e Perseo in preda aile onde'.
Quando fu dentro ail' arca dedaléa^
Che intorno la marina onda ti'aéa
E la furia del vento,
1. Acrisio, re d'Argo, a\endo udito da un oracolo che sarebbe stato ucciso da un
nipote, aveva chluso in una torre la figlia Danae ; ma quando questa divenne madré
di Perseo egli la fece mettere in una cassa col figliolelto, e i'abbandono aile furie del
mare. — 2. ben costrutta.
12 PARTE ITAMANA [84]
Ella, lutta spavento,
Lacrimosa la faccia,
Si strinse tra le braccia
Perseo, e dicea : Figliuolo,
Oh che diiolo ch' è il niio !
E tu cosi ne l'infantile oblio^
Dormi entro il legno siiiistroe inchiodato
Di bronzo, fra le ténèbre profonde;
Ne ti curi de l'onde
Che ti passan su '1 capo inanellato,
Ne ti ciiri del vento
Che nrla; qui posandoli contento.
Ne la porpora avvolto,
Chino il volto sul volto.
Oh se quel ch' è terrore
Fosse a te pur terrore,
Udresti il inio lamento!
No, dormi, o bambinello; e dorma il mare;
Dorma l'angoscia mia che non ha pare'\
Zens" Padre, e tu deh muta il tuo talento c !
Che se nel vote temeraria io sono,
Pel figlio mio concedimi perdono.
(Versione di G. Mazzoni
da un frammento di Simonide').
3. qua per ignoranza. — 4. che non ha pari, che non ha l'eguale. - 5. Giove
6. il tuo anirno. — 7. lirico greco vissuto dal ii56 al 467 a. Cr.
Issogne.
È il nome del castello che Vittorio Avondo, ha regalato testé al governo
italiano. A meta circa della valle d'Aosta, in riva alla Dora spumeggiante,
Ira i boschi di noci e di castagni mormoraiiti al sollio del porpotiio ven-
ticello, sorge il bel nianiero' che lïi già dimora pi-eferita degl' illiistri
signori di Ghallant.
Le mura austère guardano la valle ; dentro, ilcortiie qiiadrato, col suo
porticato e il pozzo centrale, è pieno di pace ; in alto ^vigihino, eterne
sentinelle, le grandi cime nevose délie Alpi. [1 viatore ~, entrato cjuasi
distrattamente, si sente invadere a un trallo da un'iinpressione augusta
e solenne ; tiitto il fascino di un passato l'avoleggiato da prosatori e poeti
gli entra nell'animo ; a un tratto egli si sente trasportare jn pieno medio-
evo, quando i trovatori giungevano ai castelli fendali, e le nobili dame
cantavano ballate su! liiito, e i prodi gai'zoni partivano per belle imprese
e bei torneamenti '. Ma più forte si l'a quest' impresslone quando il 'visi-
tatore pénétra nelle varie stanze che s'aprono sul portico o sul loggiato
del primo piano, nella sala da pranzo, nella sala délie udienze, nella
cappella e via via. Compléta allora è Tilhisione, la restitiizione del pas-
sato évidente, e ciasciin s'aspetta di udir da lontano un suon di corno
annunziante il ritorno^del signore dalla caccia, o il cigolio délie catene
del ponte levatolo È ad un artista di genio, il (piale è anche un grande
1. castello. — 2. viandante. — 3. gioslre, tornei.
[85] PARTE ITALIANA 13
paesista, che si deve questa restitnzione : è Vittorio Avondo clie, avendo
trovato e acquistato il castello d'lssOf;ne saccheggiato e spoglio délia
maggior parte dei suoi ariedi, voile ridargii la sua integrità, e perciù, con
lunga pazienza si diede a raccogliere nella valle stessa la suppellettile
dispersa, qua un mobile, là un utetisile di cucina, più oitre un arazzo
o uno stallo deila cappella gentilizia. Gosi lu ricostruito caméra per ca-
méra Issogne « Issogne, che, couie dice Fiero Giacosa, è piîi prezioso di
(pialsiasi museo d'arte médiévale, perché rappresenla nella sua realtà
l'abitazione délia l'amiglia nobile di (pielT epoca, Issogne che ci mostra
la severa e parsimoniosa dignità délia casa siguorile in (juesto Piemonte
che non lu mai ricco ne lasloso couie la vicina Lombardia. »
B. A.
Alla luna *.
0 graziosa luna, io mi rammento
Che, or volge l'anno', sovra (juesto colle
10 venia pieu d'angoscia a rimirarti :
E tu pendevi allor su quella selva
Siccome^ orfai, che tutta la rischiari.
Ma nebulosoe tremulodal ^ pianto
Che mi sorgea sul ciglio, aile mie luci '^
11 tuo volto apparia, che travagliosa
Era mia vita : ed è, né cangia stile %
0 mia diletta luna. K pur mi giova
La ricordanza, e il noverar l'etate
Del mio dolor. Oh corne grato occorre
Nel tempo giovanil, (juando ancor lungo
La speme e brève ha la memoriail corso,
Il rimembrar délie passate cose,
Ancor che triste, e che l'affanno duri 1
Giacomo Leopardi
(1798-1837).
* Vedi le altre quattro parti.
i. or fa un anno. — 2. corne. — 3. a cagione del. — 4. occhi. — T). ne cangia modo
Il primo Asilo-Famiglia in Italia.
E sorto a Yelo d'Astico (Vicenza), principalmente per opéra di Antonio
Fogazzaro, il quale, con una lettera al Giornale d'Itniin, fa conoscere
la pia istituzione e lo scopo che i suoi Ibndatori si propongono. « Gli
Asili-Famiglia, egli dice, sconosciuli in Italia, mentre in altre nazioni, per
esempio in Ingh il terra, tioriscono, si propongono la formazione di lami-
glie artiticiali per i fanciuUi poveri dei due sessi, che non hanno chi 11
raccolga e li nutra o sono in baPia d'indegni. Non tutti possono trovare
ricovero negrislituli cui provvede la benelicenza pubblica ; ne gl'istituti
sostituiscono bene la l'amiglia. »
Dando poi alcuni ragguagli intorno alla fondazione dell'asilo di Vélo
prosegue :
14 PARTE ITALIANA [86]
« Abbiamo dovuto escludere, per difetto di mezzi, l'assohita gratuità.
NeU'Asilo-Famiglia si preparano dei poveri a vivere laboriosamente ma
poveramenle. Aile Congregazioni di carità e ai privati che desiderassero
attidarci un bambino noi doinandiamo una retta di cinquanta centesimi.
Vogliaino che la sede, lontana dalle città, sia pulita e salubre ma povera ;
e la vogliamo foniita di un orto dove i fanciuUi giuochino e anche,
potendo, lavorino confrutto'. Yogliamo che il cibo sia sano e abbon-
dante ma quale gli agricoltori usano : pane, polenta, paste, laUicini,
legumi, erbaggi. E vogliamo che il numéro dei fanciulli, per ciascun
asilo, non oltrepassi quello di una famiglia normale.
« Ora ne abbiamo, nell'Asilo di Yelo d'Astico, quattro ; nou andremo
oltre gli Otto. Si capisce che, con un numéro tanto ristretto, le spese
generali premano - il costo itidividuale ben oltre i cinquanta centesimi.
Vuol dire che benefattori non mancheranno all'Asilo-famiglia, se H saprà
meritare. 11 governo délia famigliuola è aflidato a una donna che fa le
veci di madré. La «madré», abbastanza largamente retribuita, secondo
il poter nostro, adempiei doveri délia maternità; provvedendo alla fami-
glia senz'assistenza vcruna, com'è nécessita délie madri povere; e li
adempie con quella coscienza dell'uliicio e quell'adatta cultura che noi
vogliamo congiunte nella persona chiamata a dirigere un asilo. Questo ci
appareil problema più scabroso ^ ; la scella felice délie madri. Pero il
sentimenlo délia maternità, che si manifesta particolarmente nell'amore
ai bambini, è profondo in moite donne a cui la sorte neg5 una famiglia
propria. E se vi si accompagnino altri sentimenti non rari nella donna
che ha varcata la prima gioventii, un amore dei bene e un desiderio di
opère che sono quasi la trasformazione elevata di passioni impetuose,
non è difficile che Tuflicio di madré in un Asilo-famiglia sia desiderato
da moltinobili cuori femminili.
« Noi siamo, come dicevo, al principio dell'esperimento. Fra qualche
mese daremo conto agli ol)latori e al pubblico dei suoi primi risultati.
Speriamo di poterlo l'are con lieto animo. Se a qualcuno che mi legge
l'opéra pare degna di aiuto, sappia questo lettore che noi di qualunque
aiuto gli saremo grali, anche di mia sola parola buona. »
Antonio Fogazzaho.
1. con profitto. — 2. oltrep;ïssino, gràvino. — ,'5. anliio, difticile.
Una Rondine.
(CONTINUAZIONE.)
Una nuvola grossa, cupa, teneva* il vertice dei cielo : crépité ancora
una volta c si sciolse : rari gocciolonl larghissimi macchiarono il bianco
selciato : si fecero piii spessi, ed il bianco délia via disparve sotto la loro
contaminazione. E per l'aria saliva l'odore un po'acre délia terra bagnata,
un profumo di ozono che vellicava le narici con una freschezza risto-
rante. La rondine aveva mandato un ultimo cinguettio e si era stretta
nel nido. Tutta la sua ansia ed il suo dolore vibravano nelle pupille
irrequiete nere scintillanti.
1. occupava.
|87] PARTE ITALIANA 15
— Fate presto, fate presto : è ancora tempo d'arrivare prima delTura-
g;ano : fate presto, fate presto.
La pioggia cadeva a rnscelli, sbatteva su i tetli, su le vetrate : intorno
era un chiasso di finestre serrate d'un tratto con paura.
E le pupille irrequiete dicevano :
— Adesso sarauno tutte bagnate. Gioventù, gioventù ! Non l'avevano
visto il mal tempo che saliva ? Pur che non si faccia piîi brutto.
Dinanzi aile nuvole nere una nuvola bianca veniva, quasi guida aile
altre; nna nuvola lunga, leggiera corne un veio un po' stretto qua e là,
svolazzante altrove nelle falde sottili. La rondine la guardù paurosa.
— Nuvola bianca, nuvola di grandine. E non si veggono ancora !
Fu allora un primo crepitare di moschetteria - : granelli piccoli e can-
didi, battendo sul selciato, rimbalzavauo gajamente e si raccoglievano
correndo cpia e là negli angoli : battevano sui tetti e scorrevano giù per
i brevi sentieri fra le tegole : battevano su le vetrate corne piccoli diti
cliiamanti e si accovacciavano sui liraiti dei davanzali.
E su tutta quella ridda ^ allegra, gaja dei chicchi distruggitori, il rombo S
sordo a quando, a quando scrosciante, délia bufera riempiva l'aria e la
terra di paure e di fremiti. La rondine si era ancor più stretta nel nido ;
un liore di marmo, un intarsio finissimo di trina marmorea copriva il
suc letto : e le pupille spiavano acutamente a traverso la ridda paurosa
délia grandinata.
— Almeno avessero cercato un luogo di rifugio !
La grandine precipitava più densa. Un punto nero apparve ira le nubi :
un vélo che veniva verso di noi con rapidità verliginosa. La rondine ebbe
un fremito : avanzô la piccola testa bruna fuori dei nido nelfansia dell'
attesa ; la grandine precipitava. Un chicco lucido e bianco batte sul tianco
d'un terrazzo 11 presso, deviô, colpi la piccola testa bruna sporgenle, ro-
tolo da l'orlo giù nel caldo dei nido e stette.
La rondine non si mosse più : con la piccola testa poggiata sul limitare
délia sua casa piccina, quasi guardando ancora verso l'orizzonte. Il vélo
lontano aveva deviato ed era scomparso : il chicco si scioglieva nel caldo
dei nido, stretto al piccolo corpo.
Poi la bufera svani lentamente : un raggio di sole s'apri il varco ^ ira
una rotta compagine •"' di nubi e si ripercosse nel bagliore lucido délia
grandine stesa dovunque. Il sole vinceva, le nubi fuggivano rotte e lontane
e la piccola testa bruna, cadente su Uorlo dei nido, mandô un bagliore
di métallo alla nuova luce solare. Tutta la vita, interrotta dalFuragano,
ricominciava ad agitarsi : per la via passo un ru more di ciabatte ^ fretto-
lose, suonî) la bestemmiadi un passante che scivolava, ed i monelli gio-
cavano con i chicchi caduti.
La rondine dormiva nel suo nido per seinpre e la morte aveva fatta
eterna la sua espressione ansiosa dell'attendere.
Yennero a traverso i ritornati raggi trionfanti le rondinine fuggite al
mattino. Una, prima dell' altre, tocco il nido e cinguettô. La madré non
rispose. La sfiorô con l'ala : la madré non rispose. Uu'altra sorella arri-
vava : la prima mosse incontro come interrogando : si strinsero presso la
morta pigolando spaurite.
Non comprendevano. Venue la lerza, Tultima, e la sua gajezza sparve
2. di fucileria. — 3. ballo sfrenato. — 4. rimbombo. — 5 si fece strada. — 6.
mucchio, — 7. scarpe vecchie e larghe, pantofoie.
16 PAKTE ITALIANA [88]
poi che fu nel nido. E piansero nel loro mesto pigolio, mentre la madré
doriniva per sempre nella sua posizione ansiosa deH'attcndere.
Gliiamaroiio e piansero tiitta la ^iornata e non dormirono per tutta la
nolte. Al mattino mossero dal nido e vi ritornarono a piii riprese portando
piccoli steli d'erbe. Fuggirono ancora una volta quasi liete per un dovere
compiuto e non ritornarono più. La madré eternamente aspettavacon la
testa piccola e bruna poggiata al limitare délia piccola casa.
Ercole Rivalta.
Varietà.
L'amore per le bestie.
Le bestie soiio assai spesso araate in modo da far invidia agli uomini. I
gatti haniio suscitate moite passioni. Petrarca fece imbalsamare il suc
gatto morto e da Montaigne a Baudelaire tutta la letteratura francese ha
cantato la gloria del gatto. Presso gli egiziani poi, questo grazioso felino
era semplicemente un dio. Se scoppia un incendio in qualche casa
egiziana — racconta Erodoto ' — la gente non s'occupa punto del fuoco,
e non bada che a salvare i suoi gatti. Se qualcuno di essi perisce, è una
calamité pubblica. ïutto il popolo prende il lutto, gli uomini si radono
le sopracciglia, le donne corrono gemendo per la città e i sacerdoti
s'impadroniscono del corpo, lo imbalsamano e lo trasportano solenne-
mente negli appartamenti sacri di Bubastis. Ne il solo gatto è tanto caro
agli uomini. Si sa che l'Imperatore Augusto aveva una vera passione pel
suo pappagallo ; Commodo amava graiidemoiite una scimmia ed P]lioga-
balo uno stornello. Ouanto a Caligola, tutti sanno ch'egli aveva costruito
un palazzo apposta pel cavallo Incitatus e sperava di farlo nominare
console. L'Imperatore Onorio adorava una gallina, a cui aveva posto il
nome di Koma. Quando gli lu annunciato che Roma — Taltra Roma —
era caduta nelle mani di Alarico, Onorio ne lu costernato, ma perche
aveva capito maie. — Corne ! — esclamo egli dolorosamente. — Roma è
perduta? Ma se un momento la mangiava sulla mia mano!
Il « lei » e il « voi » nella commedia italiana.
Cosimo Giorgieri Gontri in uiia nota, sulla Rassc.çjna latina, osserva come
i commediograti italiani si trovino in un grande imbarazzo per l'nso
délia terza persona nel dialogo : inf'atti, tranne che neU'Italia méridionale,
dove le persone si trattano col voi, come nel francese e nelT inglese, nel
resto deir Italia è col lei che si parlano le persone per bene. I comme-
diograti dunque, per attenersi alla realtà, nel dialogo dovrebbero usare
il lei. — Ma un primo inconvcniente è la poea naturalezza, la poca spedi-
tezza che questa forma dà al dialogo, Come si ia, dice il Giorgieri Contri,
a dire sulla scena (ammesso che lo si dica ancora) : Lei è un miserabile ?
— Il secondo inconveniente è quello delTambiguità. Infatti mettete sulla
scena due persone che si diano il lei e fate che discorrano diuna signora
assente. A ogni lei, a ogni ella non si capirà se parlano l'uno dell'altro o
dell'assente. Perqueste ragioniil Giorgieri Contri propugna nella comme-
dia l'uso del vui, che ha maggiorc speditezza e naturalezza, che è una
formula più spiccia e in pari tempo più robusta.
1. célèbre storico greco del Vsec. a. C.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 3. 5 Novembre 1907. S" Année.
PARTE ITALIANA
L'inaugurazione del monumento a Vittorio Bottego.
A Parma, présent! i mille e più dotli di tntto.il mondo, ivi convenuti per il
grande congresso scientifico, fu inangurato il monumento a Vittorio Bottego,
esploratore del Ginba e deU'Omo e vittima délia sua missione e del suo
eroismo.
L'iiomo ebbe corpo ed animo da Spartano, muscoli e menle robiistissimi,
resistenza incredibile a qiialsiasi tisico dolore, temerità indomabile dinanzi
ai più fieri pericoli. Aveva ediicata la sua volontà a superare ogni ostacolo,
ed abituato il corpo a tutte le privazioni. Era un uomo anzitutto di volontà.
Adolfo De Bosis, poeta e forlunato traduttore di Shelley, neU'intimità fra-
terna, che si mantenne fino alla scomparsa del Bottego, gli osservô un giorno
che i siioi scritti — stava scrivendo il libro sul « Giuba » — non erano ecces-
sivamente rispettosi délia grammatica.
— Diventerô anche scrittore, esclamo il Bottego, e si pose a leggere e stu-
diare con foga trattati di grammatica e di rettorica, corne fossero manuali
di chimica o di trigonometria.
Ogni volta che inlraprendeva una spedizione, era solilo prepararvisi imban-
dendo la sobria mensa ora con un corvo, ora con un falco, o con qualche
altro animale di carne coriacea e nauseabonda.
— Ghi sa quante volte non avrô nnlla da mangiare, diceva. Bisogna che
abitui il mio stomaco a digerire anche queste carnacce.
Ed educava il corpo a questi tormenti con il fervore di un mistico. In
Eritrea è a memoria di tutti, e ricordato spesso da indigeni e da blanchi,
come un miracolo, la folle corsa a cavallo fatta da lui a precipizio, per scom-
messa, dali'Asmara a Massaua. In un viaggo compiuto longo la costa da
Massaua ad Assab tra non lievi difticoltà gli baleno il pensiero di diventare
esploratore : ed esploratore fu.
Co.si era l'uomo : la stessa ipertroha ' délie facoltà volitive, che talvolta
nelle faticose marce africane, lo faceva apparire tiranno, contribuiva a fog-
giarne quello spirito individualistico, che solo puô darci l'esploratore per-
fetto. C'era in lui veramente la tempra di uno Slanley italiano.
Con queste singolari doti egli compi la esplorazione del Giuba (1892-93) e
deirOmo (1895-97), con i quali due nomi di fiumi africani bisogna intendere
la massima parte deirAfrica tra il Benadir e la valle del medio Nilo.
Dal 1877 per 20 anni gritaliani, riacceso l'ardore per i grandi viaggi e
ridestata dopo un sonno secolare la tradizione di Caboto e di Colombo,
avevano tentato le inesplorate vie delFAfrica equatoriale assalendola da ogni
parte con le spedizioni di Miani, Piaggia, Gessi, Matteucci, Antinori, Anto-
nelli, Beltranie, Baudi di Vesme, Franzoi, Traversi, Ruspoli. Ma la meta pro-
posta dallo Antinori con la grande esplorazione dei paesi Ira lo Scioa e i laghi
1. sviluppo esagerato.
[17] ITAL. 3
18 PARTE ITALIANA [130]
equatoriali, sembrava sfiiggirci e i parziali siic<-e?si erano segnati da altrel-
tanle loinbe. Quanti e quali martiri délia scienza : Miani, Piaggia, Chiarini,
Antinori, Blanchi, (iiulietti, Porro, Ruspoli, Cecchi !
Le sole due spedizioni del Bôtiego terminarono il loro compito e insienie
completavano il programma enunciato nel 1877 dai geograti italiani.
Tutti gli ultimi veli del poderoso acrocoro etiopico furono per esse tolti.
Dopo aver traccialo Timportantissimo e grandioso bacino del fiume Giuba
e aver nella successiva spedizione atlraversato la Somalia, i paesi dei Boran,
scoperto due vaghissimi laghi tra le montagne galla, risoluta la questione
deirOmo, ehe non va al Giiiba, non va al Nilo, ma si geltanel Lago Rodolfo
e ivi miiore; aver percorse le piane niliache- aile falde délie montagne abis-
sine, Topera dellesploratore era compiuta. Egli, dirello a Cassala, termine
del siio viaggio, entrava in paesi gik noti. Ma aU'aiïacciarsi sulTaltipiano le
genti del degiacc Giotè lo uccidevano e facevano prigionieri i suoi compagni
Vannutelli e Citerni.
»
Ed ecco che dopo dieci anni l'Italia risaluta, effigiato nel bronzo, il suo
nobile figlio, e ne ricorda l'opéra scientifica che ancor oggi splende di tutta la
sua luce.
Due secoli fa sulle carte geografiche délie vaste regioni da lui percorse si
scriveva : « Hic siint leones » ; qiiindici anni fa si scriveva ancora : « Terre
incognite ». Le ultime carte dell'acrocoro etiopico dense di nomi di nuovi
itinerarii hanno ancora per base la bella e gloriosa impresa di Vittorio Bot-
tego snggellata con il suo sangue.
I nostri successi in quelle parti d'Africa furono segnati quasi da sepolcri. I
cippi funebri dei nostri sono le piètre miliari che si susseguono nel lungo,
dolorose e pur sempro affascinantecanimino di quel mondo già ignoto.
L'ultima pietra miliare fu ancora una tomba. Ma quel cippo è anche il
segno vittorioso che la meta fu dagli Italiani raggiunta.
(Da un articolo di Bach nel Giornale (Tltalia.)
2. la pianura del Nilo.
Nebbia.
Xascdndi le cose lonlanc,
tu nebbia impalpabile e scialba ',
tu fumo che ancora raiii()<)lli -
sulFalba,
da' lanipi notlurni e da" crolli
d'aeree franc 1
Nascondi le cose lontane,
nascondimi quello ch'c morte !
ch'io veda soltanlola siepe
dell'orlo
il muro ch'ha piene le crêpe ^
di valériane.
Nascondi le cose lonlane :
le cose son cbbre di pianlo !
ch'io veda i due peschi, i due meli,
soltanto,
che danno i soavi lor niieli '*
pel nero raio pane.
4 . pallida, scolorita. — 2. sorgi, scaturisci. — 3. i crepacci. — 4. cioè : il loro dolce
miele.
[131
PARTE ITALIANA
19
Nascondi le cose luntane
che vogliono ch'ami c che vada ^ !
Ch'io veda là solo quel bianco
di strada
clie un giorno lio da faro. tra stanco
don don di campane ^ . . .
Nascondi le cose lontane,
nascondile, involale '' al volo
del cuore ! Ch'io veda il cipresso
là solo,
qui solo quest'orto, cui presso
sonnecchia il mio cane.
Giovanni Pascoli.
5. che m'invitano nd andare... — 6. le campane che suonano a morto.
involare = portar via, togliere, rapire.
Gatlinin.
(RaCCONTO DEL td [>El MORTI.)
I miei ricordi d' infanzia più cari si riannodano alla villa délia nonna, una
casetta piccola, dipinta di rosa colle persiane verdi, sorgenle t"ra i vigneti,
suir alto d'un colle solatio ^ Davanti alla casetta si stendeva V aia e più in là
un giardinetto cinto di un mu-
ricciuolo. Di lassù si dominavano
le pendici tutte coltivate a vigneti e
la gran pianura del Po sino aile
Alpi.
Quella villelta era l'amore e la
gioia di noi bimbi ; d'inverno la
sognavamo la nolte, ([uando l'estate
arrivava essa hrillava nelle nostre
menti oppresse dallo spauracchio
degli esami. Poi il giorno bene-
detto giungeva, il viaggio sul lento
Iram a va pore, l'arrivo al villaggio
ed ecco sulT alto délia collina appa.
rire la piccola casa rosa colle per-
siane verdi.
Oh giorni benedetti !
Mai pero la dolcezza di quel fido
cantuccio m' appariva cosi grande
corne allorchè — dopo averla lascia-
ta in fin di settcmbre per tornare in
città — vi ritornavo col babbo ail'
Colle povere dila deformi faceva la maglia . . pnoca dei Santi
Oh la gioia di rivederela cara villetta lasciatacon tanto rinipianlo, un mese
prima, la gioia di ritrovare, dopo la città grigia piena di nebbia e di lango,
i vigneti dove morivano le ultime foglie d'oro, la grande pianura e le Alpi
lontane tutte blanche dineve! E come mipiaceva quel particolare aspettoche
le cose assumevano in quel momento dell' anno : le camere, non più colle
1. soleggiato.
20 PAKTK ITALIANA |^132]
finestre spalacante, invase d'aria e di sole, ma chiuse e tepide del fuoco
scoppiettante nei caminetti, i matlini nebbiosi, le lunghe serate trascorse nell'
alrio a canlo al fuoco su cui cuocevano le buone castagne, e sopratiitto il
giardino che, pieno l'estate di rose, di fucsie, di oleandri, ora invece pareva
Irasforniato in una sola grande aiuola di crisantemi. Crisantemi rosei, cri-
santemi violacei, crisantemi gialli d'un giallo d'oro, crisantemi blanchi,
candidi corne palle di neve. Quanti erano ! Nelle prime ore del mattino,
quando la nebbia non era ancor dileguata e la pianura era nascosta da un
vélo, il piccolo giardino fra quel grigio mi faceva l'effetto di un' isola
fa ta ta !
La vigilia e il giorno dei Sanli tutti quel fiori eran recisi et trasportati in
grosse panière nell' atrio délia villa e li cominciava il lavoro d' intrecciar
gliirlande per i morti.
Vi lavoi-avano tutte le donne del podere, dalla nonna che intrecciava solerte
colle sue belle dita aristocratiche fini ed alfusolate e il bel volto bianco sotte
la cuffia bianca, sino ail' ultima contadinella. Lavoravano tutte, ma una era
a tutte maestra, e lecorone e le ghirlande che uscivano dalle sue mani ave-
vano una leggiadria di disposizione e di tinta che ogni volta faceva meraviglia.
Era Catlinin, la niogiie del massaro.
lo non ho mai dimenticalo Catlinin.
Da giovane, quando a diciassett' anni era venuta sposa alla villa, diconoche
fosse bellissima, con due occhi neri come more, e una persona tutta forza e
sainte. Poi, verso la quarantina, era stata presa da una lenta artrite che le
erasalita su su dalle articolazioni dei piedi a quelle délie mani, dalle gambe
aile braccia, estendendosi a tulto il corpo, e riducendola in brève un povero
essere rattrappito e rigido, seuza movimento.
Al tempo ch' io dico, perô, le era rimasta un' agilità strana, quasi inespli-
cabile nelle dita. Quelle mani tanto avvezze ai grossi lavori délia campagnae
délia casa, parevano incapacidirestare inerti,esse forzavanoil maie, vincevano
la paralisi e-, in quell' organismo ligneo^, quasi impietrato, sole vivevano.
E maneggiavano ancora i ferri délie calze, e, nella stagione délie ciliegie,
preparavano le belle panière da recare al mercato, e nella ricorrenza dei
Morti intrecciavano, coU' antica perizia^, le ghirlande pei defunti.
— (luardate, guardate, Catlinin ha finito un' altra ghirlanda.
E guardavamo tutti ; la ghirlanda viveva smaglianle di colori, fresca e leg-
giadra, come creata dun sotho, mentre le dita che l'avevano intrecciata si
piegavano nere, ad unche, deformi.
Povera Catlinin !
Da tre anni non avevo più accompagnato il babbo in villa "nella sua perio-
dica gita autunnale. Questa gioia era toccata per turno ai miei fratellini, e
poi io ormai ero una signorina che fre(iuentava le ultime classi elementari e
dovevo pensare a tante cose série. Fui dunque tutta lieta quando, l'anno
appunto che ero entrata in quinta, il babbo mi disse che m' avrebbe presa
seco nella sua andata dalla nonna.
Giungemmo al paese la sera del 31 ottobre, allesei; faceva buio come in
bocca al iu[)0, e Maso, il minore dei figli del massaro ci aspettava per rischia-
rarci la strada colla lanterna.
Subito dal modo che Maso ci salutô, il babbo si accorse ch'egli doveva
avère qualche grossa preoccupazione.
— Che c'è, Maso ?qualcosa di l)rutto lassù 1"
— Eh, padrone, la povera madré nostra. S" è presa una polmonite, il medi-
co ha detlo ch'è tinita.
Catlinin visse ancora tutta la notteel lutto il di dopo ; nella notte Ira i Santi
e i Morti spirô ; io lo seppi il mattino dei Morti svegliandomi.
2. di legno. — 3. abilità.
[133| PARTE ITALIANA 21
La volli vedere.
Siil letto matrimoniale ampio ed allô, colla grossa coperta a scacchi rossi
e bianchi, ella giaceva supina, veslita del suo abilnccio niigliore. Il volto,
già rigtdo e affilato in vila, non era mutato. Pareva che dormisse qiiietamente,
finalmente senza soffrire. Nelle povere mani dolorose stringeva il crocitisso
e a capo del lettole avevano appoggiato le grucre, adoperale per lanti ;inni.
E poi, in giro per tiitta la caméra, siil letto, sulie sedie, siil canterano, pei-
terra, appoggiate ai muri, corone corone coronc dicrisaiitemi,di tutti i coluri,
di tutte le sfumalure, di tiitte le grossezze.
Le figlie e le nipoti avevano lavorato tutta notte ad intrecciarle e anche la
nonna avcva voliito collaborare.
Povera Catlinin ! ella ne aveva intrecciate tante pei nostri morti, tinchè
le sue mani eran state capaci !
E fu cosi che la vidi Tultima volta. La persona piccola, rattrappita dal
maie non aveva piîi nulla di umano, faceva piuttosto pensare a iina di quelle
santé di legno coricate nelle chiese ; attorno a lei nella stanza tutte quelle
ghirlande vivide mettevano la loro poesia e la loro bellezza, e le povere mani
che avevano tanto operato, posavano per sempre.
Barbara Wick-Allason.
Il ladruncolo svelato.
Una piccola scuola di campagna.
Personaggi : la Maestra, Vincenzo, Paolo, Carlo, Luigi, Giulia,
Félicita.
Scena I.
La Maestra. — Ragazzi miei, une spiacevole l'atto è accaduto ieri.
Alla vecchia Beppa, che ha il suo orticello contiguo ^ al giardiyo délia
scuola, furon riibate due magnitiche père, le sole che il suo alberetto
avesse prodolte quest'anno. È un brutto fatto, perché la Beppa è vecchia
e povera, e rubare a una persona infelice e indil'esa è anche peggio
che rubare ad uiio ricco e capace di difendersi. Ma cio che per me
è più triste èche il ladrodeve trovarsi Ira voi. (Movimenlo nella scolaresca.)
Solo un alunno délia scuola puù aver varcato il piccolo muricciuolo che
chiude l'orto délia Beppa e lo sépara dal nostro giardino. Orbene, ragazzi
miei, io invito il colpevole asvelarsi. Kicordatevi che « peccato confessato
è mezzo perdonato » e che solo la confessione leale e l'espiazione volon-
tariamente accettata ricomprano il fallo commesso.
{Silenzio nella classe.)
Nessuno parla ? E allora mi duole, ma dovrù ricorrere a un mezzo che
mi spiace. Poichè il colpevole non vuole denunziarsi dasè, lo scopriro io.
Aspettate. {esce.)
Scena II.
Paolo. — Oh quest'è brutta !
Carlo. — Chi se l'apettava ?
Félicita. — Rubare alla vecchia Beppa che, poverina, è quasi cieca, e
non ha che quel suo orticello per campare !
Giulia. — E pensare ch'era cosi orgogliosa di quelle belle père e divi-
sava ^ già di venderle al mercato !
Luigi. — E avete sentito ciô che ha detto la signora maestra ?
Paolo. — Sicuro ! che scoprirà lei il colpevole.
1. vicino, confinante, finltimo. — 2. faceva conto di, disegnava.
22
PARTE ITALIANA [134]
GiuLiA. — Oh bella ! e corne farà ?
Paolo. — Mali ! vedremo.
Félicita. — Oh ! son proprio curiosa di vedere.
GiuLiA. — E tu, Vincenzo, non dici niente ?
ViivcENZo (scontroso'^). — Che voleté che dica ?
Paolo. — Oh non ti pare una brutta azione qnella di aver rubato le
père alla vecchia Beppa ?
Vincenzo. — Che me ne importa a me délie père e délia Beppa ?
Paolo. — Non dico questo, ma non sei curioso di vedere corne farà la
signora maestra periscoprire il ladro ?
Vincenzo. — Hum ! io non ci credo. La signora non è mica un mago !
GiULiA. — Ma ha detto che lo scoprirà e la signora non dice bugie.
Scena III.
(Btentra la maestra con la bidella ^ che reca in uncesto una gallina nera.
— Tulti (jlialunni sfanno altenti.)
Maestra. — Dunque, ragazzi miei, ancora una volta il colpevole è di-
sposto a confessare ?
[Silenzio.)
Allora, ecco(iua. Vedete questa gallina 1 Ebbene, ciascuno di voi dovrà
passarle innanzi e accarezzarle il dorso colla palma destra. Quando la
gallinasi sentira accarezzata dal colpevole essagriderà. Avanli, a te, Carlo.
[Carlo si avanza e accarezza la gallina.) — Ora a te, Luigi. (Luigi fa lo
stesso.) Ora a voi, Félicita, Giulia, Paolo, Vincenzo. (/ ragazzi via via che
son chiamati si avanzano, carezzano la gallina, poi iornano aposto.)
Vincenzo {lornando a posto, da se). — Eh ! lo dicevo io che non
avrebbe gridato. Chi credo ancora a quelle stregoncrie ? Perô una bella
paura Iho avuta.
Maestra. — E adesso, pronti tutti mostratemi le vostra palma destra.
[Tutti voltano la palma; tutti, meno Vincenzo, l'hanno tinta di nero.)
Maestra. — Vincenzo, il ladro sei tu. i tuoi cotnpagni avevano la co-
scien/a tranquilla e percio non han temuto di accarezzare la gallina. Tu
invoce che ti senti vi colpevole non bai fatto che stiorarle le penne, (h'a io
avevo fatto tingere le penne del volatile di nero fumo, e cosi si spiega
che la tua mano sia rimasta bianca mentre quella degli altri è nera.
Vincenzo (piangendo). — Perdono, perdono.
Maestra. — Veramente il perdono non lo merili, perché alla colpa
di aver rubato liai aggiunlo la viltà di non aver coiifessato, e di aver
lasciato pesare il sospetto sui tuoi compagni innocenti. Vedremo se, pcr
Tavvenire, con una condotta irreprensibile, saprai rimediare al doppio
fallo e farlo dimenticare. Avve.
3. con mal garbo. — 4. l'inservietite délia scuola.
Il povero ed il ricco*.
I.
Nei tempi andati, quando il buon Dioancorsoleva aggirarsi di persona
tra gli uoniini, avvenne che una sera si trovasse stanco e che la notte lo
coglicsse prima ch'egli potesse arrivare ad un albergo. Davanti a lui,
sulla via, sorgevano due case, l'una grande e bella d'aspetto, l'altra
[135^ l'AlîTK ITAI.IANA 23
piccola e povera, e la p^rande apparteneva ad un ricco, ad un povero la
piccola. Allora penso il Signore : — « Certo che al ricco io non riusciro
d'incomodo, io voglio bussare da lui ». Il ricco, quando udi bnssare alla
porta, aperse la tinestra e chiese alio straniero che cosa cercasse. Il
Signore rispose : « Io non chiedo che un giaciglio per la notte. » Il ricco
squadro il viandante dalla testa ai piedi e poichè il btion Dio era vestito
modestamente et non aveva l'aria d'uno cheavesse moltodenaro, tentennù
il capo e disse : '< Io non posso albergarvi, le mie stanze son piened'erbe
e di granaglie, e se dovessi ospitare quanti bussano alla mia porta, potrei
ben andarmene poi io a chieder l'elemosina. Cercate ospitalità altrove ! »
Poi sbattè la tinestra, piantando in asso il buon Dio. Allora il buon Dio
gli volse le spalle. si avvicinù alla casetta che serge va in faccia e bussù.
Aveva appenabussatoche il povero giàgli aprivaTuscio e Io invitava ad
entrare e a passar la notte da lui.— « E' scuro, disse, e per <juest' oggi, già
non poteteandar oltre. » Ciù piacque al buon Dio, ed egli entrù ; la ino-
gliedel povero gli porse la mano, gli diede il benvenutoe disse chestesse
comodoe li scusasse, non avevanogran che, ma quel poco Io otfrivano di
cuore. Poi mise délie patate a cuocere, e mentre cuocevano munse la
capra per avère un po' di latte da condirle. E quando la tavola fn appa-
recchiata, il buon Dio vi sedette con loro e mangiù, e la magra vivanda gli
parve buona perché attorno a se aveva dei volti sereni. Quand'ebbero
mangiatoe vennel'oradiandar a dormirela donna chiamô nascostamente
il marito e gli disse : « Senti, caro marito, per questa notte noi dormiremo
sulla paglia. affinchè il povero viandante possa coricarsi nel nostro letto
e riposare; tutto il giorno egli ha camminato, e cio stanca. » — « Ben
volentieri, rispose il marito ; gliene t'aru la proposta » e avvicinatosi al
buon Dio Io pregè che accettasse il loro letto per riposare a dovere' le
membra. Il buon Dio non voleva privare i due vecchi del loro giaciglio,
ma essi non Io lasciarono in pace tinchè non ebbe accettato e non si fu
coricato nel loro letto. Il mattino seguentesialzarono prima che aggiornasse
e ammanirono al loro ospite la miglior colazione che poterono. Quando
ilsolepenetrùnella cameretta ilbuonDiosialzùe tornô amangiarecon loro,
dopodiche voile rimettersi in cammino. Mentre stava per varcare la
soglia, disse : « Poichè siete si compassionevoli e pii, dite tre desideri, e
io li esaiidirô. » Allora disse il povero : «Che altro potrei desiderare oltre
la salvezza eterna e che noi due, finchè campiamo, abbiamo sainte e il
pane quotidiano? ma terza cosa non sapreidesiderarla ». Il buon Dio disse:
« Non ti piacerebbe una nuova casa invece délia vecchia ? » Disse allora
l'uomo : « Si, se ciô fosse possibile. infatti mi piacerebbe. » E il buon Dio
esaudi i lor desideri e muté la loro vecchia casa in una casa nuova, e dopo
li lasciù e prosegui la sua via.
{Segiie.) Fratelli Ghi.mm.
(dalle Favoie.)
* Vedi le altre quattro parti. — 1. per bene, in modo conveiiiente.
Accrescitivi, diminutivi e peggiorativi falsi.
Il maestro :
— Con le desinenze ina, ini, ine, si fanno i diminutivi ; con le desinenze
accio, acci, accia, acce i peggiorativi ; con le desinenze one, ona, oni, gli
24 PARTE ITALIANA [136]
accrescitivi. Avete capito bene ? Per domani dunque, scrivetemi una pa-
gina ove sieno raccolti alcuni ditninutivi, alcuni accrescitivi, alcuni peg-
giorativi.
Ecco la pagina presentata dal piii intelligente fra gli scolari :
« leri, poichè mio padre mi aveva concesso un'ora di libertà, andai a
fare una passeggiata : non volli passare dalla solita strada perché avevo
scorto in distanza due poveri pazzi, padre e figlio, cioè il mattone e il
mattino ; presi dunque un'altra via, e stavo contemplando i montoni
azzurreggianti lontano, quando una scena terribile mi fece voltare : un
povero mulino spaventato dall'incontro di un torino, si dava a fuga pre-
cipitosa: i merletli ' strepitavan sugli alberi. Mi diedi a fuggire anch'io,
finchè, essendo stanco, mi riposai ail' ombra di un fronzuto me/one. Stetti
Il un poco, ma improvvisamente un gran rumore mi colpi ; era un gros-
sissimo uccello che roteavaper l'aria- Domandai ad un passante che sorta
di uccello i'osse e quegli mi rispose : « È un aquilone, terribile uccel di
raphia i. Cio vuol dire, io dissi fra me, che il suo cibo preferito è una
piccola râpa.
E contento di aver visto tante cose, girai i tacckini verso casa : e a casa
giunsi assai presto, passando per un triste viale di castagnacci o"^.
1. pizzi. — 2. torta di castagne.
Varietà.
Quale è il più bel punto d'Italia ?
Ê questo il quesito che il Giornale d'Italia ha posto ai suoi lettori, e
che gli ha attirato centinaia di risposte.
Eccone alcune interessanti :
Signor Direttore,
Ho girato l'italia per lungo e per largo, c sono del parère che Monte-
falco meriti di essere preso in séria considerazione. Su tutte le guide
straniere e nazionali essa ha il nome lusinghiero di « Ringhiera dell'Um-
bria ». Su diun poggio in mezzo alla vasta vallata délia ridente Umbria, dal
quale si domina no collo sguardo ben 17città (Perugia, Assisi, Foligno,
Spoleto ecc). Allefalde diversi fiumi, le fonti delCIitunno* ecc. ; di là le
alte montagne di Norcia, di qua il gruppo Martano. Tutto in mezzo ad un
bel verde poetico, che spiega corne l'Umbria siastata la culla dell'arte per
influenza délia natura stessa. Ed infine perché Montefalco è nel centro
geometrico e geografico d'Italia.
Signor Direttore,
Il più bel punto d'Italia è il Canal Grande di Venezia. Non c'è niente
di più bello ne in Italia ne in tutto il mondo.
Signor Direttore,
Uno dei luoghi più belli d'Italia è l'Alpe di Catenaia (Arezzo), che si
éleva oltre i mille metri sul livello del mare, per offrirci uno spettacolo
veramente meraviglioso. Ci offre, niente di meno, che la vista del più
bello e grande giardino del mondo : il Gasentino '-.
1. cantate dal Carducci in un' ode célèbre. — 2. Dante dice « il verde piano del
Gasentino ».
Les Cinq Langues
N» 4.
20 Novembre 1907.
8« Année
PARTE ITALIANA
Galabria desolata,
Sono trascorsi poco più di due anni dacchè il terremoto devastava la
Galabria, il bel paese fertile e pittoresco bacialo dai due mari, ricco di
uliveti e di bestiame, abitato da una popolazione indiistre e biiona. Sono
hy-d. i^i luviiie di i-eiiiuzanu.
[Reportage photographique de II. Mknasci.)
trascorsi poco più di due anni, ed ecco che di nuovo il flagello si rovescia
sulFinfelice paese.
Per una combinazione strana il terremoto questa volta ha visitato la Gala-
bria il domani del giorno in ciii, solennemente, con grande concorso di
popolo e clero, con processioni e fuochi di festa s'inauguravano i due vil-
laggi-modello fabbricati colle elargizioni del Piemonte e délia F.ombardia.
lin soffio di buon augiirio sembrava passare sul paese, gli animi parevano
aprirsi alla speranza, ed ecco, subito, terribile e crudele il nemico irrom-
pere, far nuova e più lugubre strage di nomini e di cose.
I giornali recano la lunga lisla di nomi dei paesi per meta ruinali, sono
Sant'Ilario Jonico, Gerace Marina; Gioiosa, sorgenti a specchio delJonio cosi
azzurro, sono Sanl'Eufemia d'Aspromonte, Sinopoli, Brancalcone... Ma un
123] ITAL 4
26 PARTE ITALIANA [178]
nome, fra tulti, è divenuto sinonimo di sciagura, il nome di Fernizzano il
paese inghiottito dalla frana, la necropoli, in fondo alla quale dormono ora
centiiiaia di viltime !
Indicibile è Torrore di quella rovina, raccapriccianle lo spetlacolo clie
offre.
« Quelle che agghiaccia in quel cimitero di uomini e di cose — scrive
il corrispondente del Pungolo — è il deserto complète, il silenzio che lo
avvolge. I superstiti sono fuggiti, lianno abbandonato gli schelelri délie loro
case, i cadaveri dei loro cari, pazzi di terrore sono .scappati sotto la minaccia
assillante ^ di nuove scosse, di nuove rovine. »
I giornali sono pieni di racconti di superstiti inlorno alla fatal note 23-24
ottobre. Notevole, fra le altre, quella d'un cai-abiniere.
« A un tratto mi parve che il quadro col ritratto del Re oscillasse da destra
verso sinistra violentemeiite. Innanzi a me illelto parcva scossodauna mano
invisibile ; i vetri tremavano ; senlivo mancarmi la terra sotto ai piedi. Non
pensai al terremoto, sulle prime, tanto la mia mente era lonlana da quella
possibile catastrofe, e il fenomeno mi parve dovuto piuttosto a soverchia
eccitazione mia. Qualche secondo dopo tutto era ritornalo nella calma pri-
mitiva. Non avevo perô fatto ancora un passo che mi sentii avvolto tutto in
un fragore rumoroso di vetri infranti e di porte sbattute. Le mura si inclina-
rono pericolosamentc verso di me, poi diversero^ violentemente verso l'e-
sterno. La lampada si era spenta, infranta contre il mure, ma l'aria, attra-
verso i vetri, appariva lutta insanguinata. Un brivide intense correva lungo
le fibre délia terra. Un rombo immane rumoreggiava aU'esterno col fragore
di un masse énorme che da un mente rotoli precipitosamente a valle. Nell'
oscurità e nel rumore si levavane altissime grida acute.
«Carpeni, dimentico di tutto, pazzo di terrore, puntellandomi cen tutte le
forze dei miei musceli contre le asperità del suolo fatto di terriccio battuto,
fuggii 0 meglio mi Irascinai a lentoni tino ali'arco délia porta che avevo
chiusa prima di andare a letto, ma che, neU'impeto délia scossa, si era spa-
lancata. I primi calcinacci ceminciarono a cadere alterne a me. Una trave
cadde pc-santemente accanlo sfiorandomi le spalle. Mi rincantucciai più che
potei al riparo deirarchilravc. Fuori, nella via, una terribile bufera iuiper-
versava. Una fella di génie, spaurita, urlante, nuda, gesticelanle, si precipi-
tava pcr le vie oscure guazzando nell'acqua che, evunqne, aveva fatto dei
pantani. Le donne, a gran voci, rhiedevano a Die ri])aro dal sue tlagelle. La
turba di gementi si urtava, si spingeva, si premeva in tutti i sensi, Nell'on-
dala di popole, quelli che erano innanzi venivano sopraggiunti da colore che
cerrevano dietre, e cadevane a terra, sparivano, sopratfatti, malconci, entre
une nueva endala vivenlc.
« Su tutte dominava il furore delTuragano, che illividiva con sinislri ba- .
gliori di lampi uomini e cose, e il fragore del calaclisma che accunuilava una
sulTaltrale case, falciando villime. Poi pian piano, il fragore diminui, si
smorzo, cessô quasi del tutto. Il silenzio i-ientrô, rotto solo dalle scresciare
violente délia pioggia e dal franare imprevvise délie case. Un gruppo di
donne recitava litanie. «
1. che stimola, che spinge ; assillo = mouche plate. — 2. da divirgere = staccarsi
l'una daU'altra.
Il giusto e il falco amor délie lettere.
A un giovane che gli scriveva, deplorando che il jiadre suo volesse lai'c di hii un
commcrciante, montre egli si sentiva \ivamente portato a tare il letterato, cosi rispon-
deva Alessandro Manzoni :
179^ FAUTE ITAMANA 27
Il suo signor padre ha volulo ch' Ella siappigliasse ' al commercio : la ret-
titudine del suo cuore ha fatto ch' P^Jla obbedisse e desiderasse d'obbedir
volentieri ; ma da quel giorno in poi Ella non ha più pace ne reqnie : tuUo
Le è venuto a noia e in dispetlo : Ella non vede di poter più andare innanzi
cosi. E perché? Per amor délie leltere. Ma che letLere son codeste che non
lasciano aver hene ^^ un uomo nelF adempiinenlo del suo dovere, e in im'
occiipazione che ha uno scopo utile, e che prcsta pure un continuo esercizio
alla rifléssione ed alla sagacità delT ingegno ? Sono elle le l)uone lettere? Le
cose buone e vere si amano con un ardore tranquilloe paziente: nonportano
a non volere se non ciô che è incompatibile con esse, ne ad abborrire cosi
fortemente se non il loro contrario, cioè le cose false e malvagie. lo temo
che codeste lettere di oui Ella è tanlo accesa, sien quelle appunto che vivon
di se e da se e non veggono che ci sia qualcosa da fare per loro ^ dove non
si tratli di giocare colla fantasia : temo, anzi credo, che codesta tanto vio-
lenta avversione al commercio sia cagionala in Lei, per gran parte, dalla
impressione che le hanno fatta quelle massime, quelle dottrine che esallano,
consacrano certi esercizi dell' intelligenza e délia attività umana, e ne svili-
scono *^ altri, senza tener conto délia ragion délie cose, del sentimento comune
degli uomini, e délie condizioni essenziali délia società. Ma si franchi'' un
momento da queste dottrine, ne esca, e le gnardi da di fuori ; e pensi di che
sarebbe p\ii impacciato il mondo, del trovarsi senza banchieri o senza poeti ;
quale di queste due profession! serva di più, non dico al comodo, ma alla
coltura dell' umanità. Codesta avversione non le lascia scorgere, corne l'occu-
pazioneche Le è data, non solo non Le tolga ogni mezzo a progredir nelle
lettere, ma ne sia un mezzo ella medesima. Chè certamenteil suo tempo non
sarà cosi interamen te da essa portato via, clie non gliene avanzi da dare alla
letlura o ail' esercizio deilo scrivere; ed è forse piccolo sussidio ad ogni stu-
dio libérale la cognizione degli uomini e délie cose, che si acquista nel com-
mercio ? Ma la prima cagione dell' essere codesto affetto per le lettere cosi
violento in Lei, cosi esclusivo, e per conseguenza cosi tormentoso, me 1' ha
manifestata, senza ch' io cerchi altro, Ella medesima. N^elIe lettere Ella vede
un mezzo d'ac(iuistar fama : un vivissimo desideriodi questa, un nobile sde-
gno deir oscurità, per ripeter le sue parole, sono il suo stimolo principale
allô studio, e il suo tormento. Ma credeElla forse che l'ottener questa fama
porrebbe fine al tormento? Per amor del cielo, si levi dail' animo una taie spe-
ranza. Quando Ella avrà veduto un avaro felice dell' essersi fatto ricco, s'a-
spetti alloradi vedere un cûpidos di fama felice dell'esser diventato famoso.
Iddio ci vuol troppo bene per lasciarci trovare la contentezza nel soddisfaci-
mento délie nostre passion!
Al pari di tutti gl! altri sentiment! che mirano ad un godimento e non
a una perfezione, lo sdegno dell' oscurità è tutt'allro che nobile; come, al
pari di tutti i sentiment! che sono fondât! nella '' contidenza in no! e nelle
nostre forze, è tutt'altro che savio; come, al par! d! tutti i sentimenti ne!
quai! l'uomo si propone per fine una sua soddisfazione, e non l'adempimento
di un dovere, non ha di che consolare nella cattiva riuscita. Non è un
nobile sentimento di alcuni ma una miseria d! tutti; imperciocchè chi, in
qualunque condizione, non sa volere che gl! altri lo ammirino"? chi non è
tentato d! ringalluzzarsi ^, quando vegga quulche paio d'occhi rivolti sopradi
lui, e senta ripetere da qualche bocca il suo nome con una Iode «[ualunque?
Ben è miseria spéciale d^alcuni l'aver voluto fare d"una passione unavirtù,
d'una tentazione un privilegio, d'un sentimento che gl! uomini, quando pur se
ne lasciano vincere, non vogliono confessare, un proposito e un precetto. E,
come le storture ^ trovan meglio da appigliars! et da spiegars! in un iingua-
1. si dedicasse. — 2. aver pace, aver contentezza. — 3. iiitende i propugnatori
deir arte per l'artc. — 4. denigrano, disprezzano. — 5. si liberi. — 6. desideroso,
avido. — ~l. si dice anche: fondare su. — 8. gli errori, le idée stprte. — 9. inor-
goglirsi. : -„ .
PAHTE ITALIANA [180]
ggio slraordinario, fanlastico e di convenzione, cosi i poeti hanno in
qiiesta miseria la maggior parte, e il più cospicuo '° liiogo. Ma, oltre che
ne' poeti, c'è, per questo corne per ogni allra cosa, il pro e il contre, e non
so se ve ne t^ia uno il quale, predicando in un luogo l'amor délia fama,
non dica in un altro luogo virtuosa e invidiabile l'oscurità, e sapiente
l'amore di essa; badi chei poeti vanno sccniando d'autoriik comedi numéro ;
e l'esser con tulto ciô cret^ciuto (inello dei lettori fa si che alla venerazione
sottentri il giudizio; e son giudicali ogni di più con questa ragione che se
le cose dette da loro tanno per loro soli'^ e non impoi-tano ail' umanità, son
cose da non curarsene; se importano, bisogna veder corne sien vere. Alcuni
poi (e ce n'èstali pur troppo, e scrittori tutl'altro che senza grido), i quali
hanno trasportate quelle storture nella prosa, facendone materia di ragio-
nata deliberazione e di serio insegnamento, hanno certamente potuto con
ciô dilatarne il regno per qualche tempo, ma avranno, se non erro, con-
tribuito ad abbreviarlo...
Ad ogni modo, nella natura stabile e nella ragion perpétua délie cose, Ella
ha troppo di che convincersi, che il rimedio alla présente sua inquietudine
non è nell' obbedire alla sua passione, ma si nel combatterla ; non nel cor-
l'ere atï'annosamente per una via ch'EUa ha scelto, ma nel camminare per
quella dovela Provvidenza manifestaniente La pone. Questa''^ le darà forza e
quiète, tanlo più quanto più ne chiegga, e insieiiie s'aiuti, opponendo, non
soltomettendo, la sua ragione adopinioni t'antastiche ed arbitrarie. Xel tare
con risoluta e pronta volonlk quello che sicuramente è ora il meglio, Ella
troverk il cont'orlo del fare il suo dovere; e perché non anche, a poco a poco
quella soddisfazione che si trova in ogni occupazione ragionevole?Eognialtro
studio non Le sark men dilettevole, ne, oserei dire, men proticuo, perché
diventi accessorio. ?s^ecker, che pure ave va una forte passione per le lettere,
entrô a quindici anni, e ne passù venti, nello scrittoio d'un banchiere; e fu
poi, com' Ella sa. autoredi moiti libri : ne si puo dire che una taie disci-
plina abbia mortiticalo il suo ingegno ; giacchè, anche a non guardarlo che dal
lato letterario, l'aridezza non è certo il difetto che si trova negli scritti di
lui. E se, col tempo, la vaghezza'^ ragionevole di parlar di cose a cui Ella
avrk pensato più che altri, e la speranza di propagar cosi idée utili o buoni
sentimenti, La portera a scrivere, codesta fama benedelta Le verra dietro
tanto piîi, quanto più Ella avrk avuto tutl' altro in mira scrivendo; Le
recherk men dispiaceri, quanto meno Ella vi cercherk compiacenze ; Le dark
men noia, quanto piii Le verrk importuna.
Alessandro Manzoni.
tO. rngguanievole, importante. — 11. cioè : riguardano loro soli, importano a loro
soli. — 12. la Provvidenza. — 13. desiderio.
Traduzioni Oraziane di G. B. Giorgini.
Uno degli uUimi fascicolidella A'''HOi'a .In/o/o^tarecaalcune bellissime traduzioni del
Giorgini, il filologo nov antenne e cieco, che traslalô anche in latino varie poésie del
Carducci. Ecco una di codeste traduzioni :
LiBRO, I, Ode I :
Mio vantoeschermo', nobilestirpedi re^,Mecena^
V'è laie che daU'allo del cocchio in sull'arena
Gode inalzar la polvere Olimpica^, e la meta
Schivata dalle fervide rote e la palma lieta
Ai sommi dei l'uguaglia. Quest'allro, degli ambiti
1. difesa. — ?. discendente d'antenati re, cioè propriamente i lucumoni Etruschi.
- 3. Mecenate. — 4.0limpia era famosa per i suoi giuoclii.
[181] • PARTE ITALIArfA 29
Triplici onori ■' al seggio, dei mobili Quirili
La turba a gara inalza : chi, rigido massaio,
Quanto la Libia miete chiiide nel suo granaio ;
Chi, di sua inan del patrio poder liingo le prode S
I campi coU'indigena marra sarchiar si gode.
Xonsarà maicho, pavido nocchiero, un dicostoro,
fQiiand'anche ilrcgno d'Attalotu gli offeriscael'oro)
II mar Mirteo su frigia trave ' a segar s'attenti.
Talora, qiiando liberi tumulluando i venti.
Il mar ch'Icarobevve^ sconvolge Affricoin guerra,
I campi loda e i franchi^ ozi délia sua terra
II mercadante : poi sdegnoso d'un'abbietta
Penuria, i legni laceri a riparar saffretta.
V'è chi del giorno inutile gran parle occupa, molle
Il sen di vecchio Massico'", o sopra verdi zolle ;
Disteso a piè d'un albero, o presso un sacro rio
Ghe pullula" dal sasso con lene mormorio.
Délie guerr'iere trombe non pochiaman gli squilli
Al suono délie til»ie commisti, ed i vessilli '^
Terrore délie madri. Altri, al seren la notte,
Immemor délia tenera moglie rimane, o rotte
l'n appulo cignale abbia le reti, o vista
Del cervo i fidi cuccioli'^ da lunge abbian la pista.
Me, premio délie dotte fronli, il vivace alloro
Mesce '* agli Dei : me il gelido bosco elo snello coro
Délie Ninfe danzanti coi Satiri divide
Dalvolgo :e se all'impresa propizia Euterpe arride,
E se Polinnia, al supplice desîo pieghevol musa,
Délia mia cetra tendere le corde non ricusa,
Fer tuo voler, dei lirici vati *° al drappello unito,
Mi crederô d'avere toccato il ciel col dito.
5. la questura, la prettira, il consolato. — 6. le sponde. — 1. nave. — 8. TEgeo :
allude alla nota favola d'Iearo. — 9. liberi. — iO. famoso vino campano. — 11.
zarapilla. — 12. bandiere. — 13. cani. — 14. coUoca fra gli dei. —13. poeti lirici.
Il povero ed il ricco*.
Il
Quando fu giorno fatto, e il ricco si alzo e si mise alla fineslra, vide
una bella casa nuova là dove prima sorgeva una vecchia capanna. Tutto
meravigliato chiamô la moglie e disse : « Guarda un po', moglie, come
mai è avvenuto? leri sera 11 c'era una miserabile capanna e adesso vi è
una casa nuova e bella. Yacci un po' e fa di sapere corne cio è accaduto ».
— La donna ando e interrogô il povero. Qiiesti narro : « leri sera capitè
un viandarite che cercava asilo per la notte, e stamani nel congedarsi ha
sodisfatto a tre nostri desideri : Feterna salvezza, la salute finchè vivianio
e il pane quotidiano, e di piîi, invece délia nostra capanna, una bella casa
nuova ». — Quando la moglie del ricco ebbe udito cio, corse via e narrù
al marito come era accaduto. Il marito disse : — « Yorrei essere fatto a
pezzi e fustigato ; oh, se lo avessi saputo ! Anche da me è venuto quel
forastiero, e io l'ho mandato via. » — « Sbrigati, disse la moglie, monta
* Vedi le altre quattro parti,
1. affrettati.
30 PAIITE ITALIANA [182 1
a cavallo: quell' uomo non puô esser lontano, tu devi raggiungerlo
e ottenere clie anche a te concéda l'adempimento di tre desideri. »
Subito il ricco si mise in sella e raggiunse il buon Dio, gli parla nel
modo più grazioso e gli disse che egli non doveva volergliene se non era
stato prontamente ricevuto in casa; non aveva subito trovata la chiave,
ecco, e mentre la stava cercando, lui se n'era andato; ma se un' altra
volta si fosse trovato per quella via doveva certamente venire in casa sua.
— « Si, disse il buon Dio, se mi ritrovo per questa via, verro ». Allora il
ricco chiese se gli accorda va di esprimere tre desideri, corne il suo vicino.
E il Signore disse che lo poteva, ma che non era bene per lui, che
avrebbe latto meglio a non chieder nulla. Ma il ricco opiné che avrebbe
studiato qualcosa di buono da domandare, purchè fosse certo di venire
esaudito. Disse il buon Dio : « Torna pure a casa, e tre desideri che tu
esprimerai ti saranno esauditi ».
(Segue.) Fratelli Grimm.
(dal tedesco.)
Briciola.
(Racco.nto)
EU' era proprio un povero cosino esile e magro, con grandi occhi tristi
in un faccino pallido, e in tutta la minuta persona un non so chedi rasse-
gnato, come di chi ha piegato sotto l'inevitabile durezza délia sorte. La
poveragente del vicinato che la vedevano sempre cosi sottile e mingher-
lina, l'avevano soprannominata Briciola, colla solita smania del popolino
di appiopare nomignoli a tutti : una cosa che, fra parentesi, ha i suoi in-
convenienti, perché s'è visto il caso di chi, a forza di essere abituato a
sentirsi designare con un soprannome, ha finito per scordarsi il proprio
nome.
Era successo quasi lo stcsso per Briciola. I suoi genitori, poveri portinaj
di una gran casa in un popoloso quartiere, ormai non lachiamavano altri-
menti, e ben pochi si ricordavano che il nome di battesimo impostole dalla
sua madrina (una maestrina elementare alquanto sentimentale) fosse
Faustina.
Povera bimba, non fu profetico il tuo nome ! Mai croaturina nacque
condannataa più misera vita ! La sua madré, operaja mal riuscita per-
ché indolente e vana, aveva trovato marito in grazia diduebegli occhi, e
sposando il calzolajo Gino Bonelli, credeva di essersi assicurata una vita
agiata, quasi da signora. Egli, uomo taciturno, serio, lavoratoreesobrio,
.aveva allora un piccolo negozio, e faceva discreti alfari; ma sia che li
trascurasse alquanto per occuparsi tro()po délia sposa, sia che questa
facesse spese superiori ai loro modesti guadagni, in ca[)0 a pochi anni il
povero calzolajo si trovo in rovina e, per evitare il fallimento, dovette
cedere la bottega, vendendo tutto per soddisfare i creditori . La piccola
Fausta aveva allora quattro anni, ed era una donnina in miniatura, alta
un pal mo, con mani o piedi microsco[)ici, e una faccelta séria con due
occhi neri che non sorridevano mai. Povera piccina ! non sapeva più cosa
fosse unacarezza materna, daccho le era nato un fratellino ! A lei tocca-
vano le sgridate, le busse, so il piccolo Gesare piangeva, se il padre tornava
a casa di umor nero; — e (juesto pur troppo i?uccedeva di fréquente !
(183| PARTE ITALIA^'A 31
Il pover' iionio non aveva catlivo cuore, e aile volte sgridava aspra-
menle la nioglieper le sue aspre/ze verso la bainbina; ma dopo un momento
egii ricadeva nella sua taciturna apatia, sembrando non accorgersi di
quelle che succedeva intoino a lui. Aveva trovato lavoro j)resso una
ditta deila città, e talvolta lo portava a casa, talvolta stava via a lavorare
le intere ciornate, lasciando cosi l'infelice bambina in balîa délia madré.
Erano passati (piattro anni daccliè i conjugi Bonelli avevano dovuto
rassegnarsi a farsi portinaj, e a poco apoco, Briciola eradiventata la ser-
vetta deirintera casa.
Aile sei del mattino, d'inverno o d'estate, la madré inumana ficcava
una scopa nelle sue manine tremanti,ela mandava su su ■al quinto piano
per fare la pulizia délia scala. Soltanto quandoil lungo lavoro era termi-
nato, Briciola riceveva un pezzo di pane e qualche volta — non seinpre
— una tazza di latle. Poi le toccava metter in ordine la portineria men-
tre la madré andava a fare quel po' di spesuccia conducendo secoil Gesa-
rino, e indugiandosi a chiacchierare colle vicine; e guai a Briciola se,
tornando, essâ non trovasse tutto a posto, letazze lavate, il letto rifatto !
Nel frattempo giungeva la posta, e la bambina doveva correre a distri-
buirla ai diversi inquilini, su egiù continuamente per quelle eterne scale.
Pero era forse questo il suo più bel momento. Parecchi degli inquilini,
vedendola sempre gentile e premurosa, ne avevano, infatli, compassione
e se la tiravano in cucina per darle un bicchiere di latte o un biscottino
0 un bel panettofresco, che la piccola atfamataaccettava avidamente. Ciô
nonostanle, a otto anni, Briciola ne dimostrava cinque, e le buone donne
che la vedevano passare con quel passo strascinato, e sentivano quella sua
tossetta asciutta, scrollavano il capo e dicevano Ira loro che Briciola non
diventerebbe mai una giovinetta. E la dura sua vita si faceva sempre più
dura, senza che alcuno pensasse ad ajutarla o a difenderla. La compian-
gevano tutti, colla facile pietà che desta una sofferenzatroppo palese, ma
passavano oitre inditîerenti, un po' per tema délia madré sgarbata, un
po' perquel sentimentod'egoismo chesiamagiustificarecol motto : " Non
immischiarti degli afl'ari altrui. " Essa, povera martire, non si lagnava
mai ; abituata aile percosse e aile sgridate continue, non piangeva più, e
se qualche volta il suo povero cuoricino traboccava ', unico suo sfogo
erano quel singhiozzi muti, quel- sospiri profondi, cosi terribili a sentirsi
in una creatura di quell'età. Se le sacre carte c' insegnano, che Iddio è
consapevole d'ogni uccello checade in terra, quaiito più dovrà Egli tener
conto dei pianti dcllesue creaturine innocenti ! Quai tremendo rendicon-
to chiederà Egli un giorno a chi fuiugiustamente causa délie loro lagrime
e dei loro pati menti !
* *
Una sera d'inverno, i membri délia famiglia Bonelli sedevano davanti
al magro fuoco del caminetto, lélici d'essere ricoverati, giacchè di fuori
la pioggia cadeva a dirotto, e il vento fiscliiando ti%-lë vecehie imposte ;
scuoteva i vetri mal connessi e minacciava di spegnere e lume e l'uoco.
Da alcuni giorni il piccolo Cesareera indisposto per un grosso ratl'red-
dore, e frignava - continuamente, l'acendp disperare la n>adre, sempre
pronta ad allarmarsi per il suo Beniamino. Erano en tram l)i d'ini umore
^ . ; .iCi i &iâOi'.<
1. era troppo i^ieno. — 2. piagniiçolavn,__
32 PARTE ITALIANA [184]
insopportabile, e il torvo calzolajo che aveva un lavoro pressante da ter-
minare,ognitanto si sfogavaconiinabestemmiaalF indirizzo délia moglie
0 del bambino. Briciola, sedutaneU'angolo piùlontano dal fuoco, taceva,
appoggiata alla parete con qiiella posa abbandonata che rivela l'estrema
stanchezza.
La madré, che la guardavacoirocchio cattivo, quasi rabbiosa di vederla
un momento in riposo, proruppe ad untratto :
— Eppure ci sarebbe il niezzo di farlo quietare il mio angioletto !
Vuole le castagne, che tutto il giorno gli prometto, ed egli se ne ricorda !
— Ma dagliele, in nome del diavolo, — gridô il marito esasperato, e
lasciaci in pace, una volta !
— È presto detto, — rimbecco lei, — ma Briciola non vuol andarle a
prendere. Colla scusa che è un po' lontano, qiiella poltronaccia prel'erisce
sentir piangereil fratellino. Ha paura che il vento la porti via !
— E ha ragione, perbacco ! — disse il padre, guardando pietosamente
là povera bimba. — Se non fosse questo maledetto lavoro, andrei io a
pigliartele le castagne. Ma ci vuol altro ! — E ilpover' uomo sospiro riflet-
tendo che, senza i danari che riceverebbe per quegli stivali, non potreb-
bero mettersi in bocca un boccon di pane il giorno dopo.
(Segue.) Yantyé.
Per ridere.
Eustorgio Eruditi, ispettorc scolastico, si présenta in una classe, e a
(luellofragliscolaricheglisembrad"ingegno|)iù acuto,rivolgeladonianda:
— Ditenii ciù che trovate di notevole in alcune città d'italia.
Lo scolaro, tutto d'un (iato :
— San Francesco d'Assisi, spumante d'Asti ',disfidadi Barletta^,Nerodi
Barolo, battaglia di Bcncvento, mortadella di Bologna, Arnaldo da Bre-
scia, vino di Chianti, torroni di Cremona, marmo di Garrara, sedie di
Chiavari, pane di Como, assedio di Firenze, canditi di Genova, pietra di
Lavagna, ibrmaggio Lodigiano, panettonidiMilano, zampone di Modena,
vino di Marsala, bagni di Montecatini, maccheroni di Napoli, biscottini
di Novara, olio di Nizza. mandarini di Palermo, campaniledi Pisa, Sant'-
Antoniodi Padova, Diritto Romano, Francesca da Rimini, terra di Siena^
vermouth di Torino, amanti di Verona ^.
1. vino bianco spumante. — 2. tra Francesi e Italiani (1503). — 3. nome di un
colore usato dai pittori. — 4. Romeo e Giulietta.
Segni di un paese felice.
AUorchèle sciabolesonoricoperte di rugginee levangiie son rilucenti;
allorchoi granai son pieni e leprigioni vuote; allorchè i panattieri vanne
in portantina e i medici a piedi ; quando le scale délie pagode ' son con-
sumate, e icorlili dei tribunali son coperti d'erba ; allora l'impero è ben
governato. Dallo Shi-Kinr/ \
(Versione diG. Bindi.)
1. templi. — * 0 Libro dei Canti, raccolta di 305 canfi popolari cinesi. composti tra
il Xll e il VI secoio av. G. Questa raccolta fu fatta da Confucio perché la gente colta
potesse da essi conoscere i bisogni e le costumanze del popoio.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 5.
5 Décembre 1S07.
S« Année.
PARTE ITALfANA
Miscellanea.
Pala^zo Stro:^i.
Essendo morto il principe Piero Strozzi, ultimo d(?lla nohile famiglia, si è
fatto un gran discorrere su pei giornali délia sorte chosarebbe toccata al siio
palazzo, una délie più pure gemme deirarchilettiira italiaua del Rinascimento,
(lid°° Alixaui.)
FiBENZE.
Palazzo Strozzi.
di cui furono architetti Benedetto da Majanoe Simone del PoUajolo detto il
Cronaca.
Molli propendono, si capisce, perché lo Slato se ne renda acquisittore e vi
trasporti la sede dell' Istitulo Superiore degli studi. Cosi reslerebbe alpopolo
italiano quel!' avita diniora di cui Filippo Strozzi pose le fondauienta il
6 agosto 1489 fra il tripudio appunto di tulto il popolo di Firenze.
AUri perô si sono opposti ail' ingente spesa, ed è corsa anche la voce che un
miliardario americano penserebbe ad acquistarlo. (".ontro tal voce lianno
protestato gli organi di tutti i cenacoli artislici e segnatamente il tiorentino
Marzocco : « Non perche, esso dice, soffrisse l'estremo oltraggio di tramularsi
in un ostello straniero, Simone del Pollajolo detto il Cronaca ne aveva coro-
nato il fastigio' con l'elegante cornice corintia ; non perché ci appendessero
le lampade elettriche, aveva forse Niccolô Grosso Capurra reso duttile il ferro
1. lasommità d'un edificio.
[29]
ITAL 5
34 PARTK 1TAI,IA.\A [226]
aile volute délie sue lanterne. Gridano gli scettici che i palazzi non corrono
pericoli, perché non sono esportabili. Corne se le cose non soffrissero e non
perdessero la loro essenza e il loro carattere, anche per un semplice camhio
di destinazione ! Cotne se fosse toUerabile che il Palazzo Farnese diventasse
un bel giorno un Palace Hôtel, di Bertolini o di Ritz, che il San Giovanni fosse
mulato in una Chiesa Evangelica, e il Colosseo in un'arena per gli speltacoli
di Buffalo Bill ! »
*
* •
Le onoranze a Pasquale Yillari.
Il 3 novembre fnrono rese in Firenze solenni onuranzo a Pasquale Villari
per il suo otlantesimo compleanno.
Napoletano di nascita, dopo la piibldicazione del siiolibro sul Savonai-ola-,
il Villari, appena trentenne, fu nominato professore iiniversitario. D'allora
lennc la caltedra con amoree diligenza, lavorando pei giovani e coi giovani,
assidiiamente.
Fu minislro deila Pubblica Istrazione, e copri quella carica, oltre che
con profonda conoscenza dei bisogni degli studiosi, con probita assolutae
con fermezza e nobiltà di carattere. A un deputato amico che, ricevendo un
lifiuto a un favore chiestogli, gli doniandava candidamente : — Ma a che
mi serve dunque la tua amicizia? — Pasquale Villari fieramente rispondeva :
— A nuUa, se mi cliiedi cose illecile.
Ben presto agli studi storici, che lo resero tanto insigne, il Villari accoppio
il vivo interesse per il formidabile problenia politico-sociale del Mezzogiorno.
Era a cio indotto dal grande suo amore per la patria e per il popolo, dalla
grande pietà per quelle provincie meridionali dove, la socielà essendo princi-
palmente agricola, le condizioni sono piii gravi che altrove, e i poveri con-
iadini, gravali da troppi pesi, stanchi di soft'rire, preferiscono emigrare, an-
dando incontro a una vita piena di soderenze e di incertezze.
Deir emigrazione infatli il Villari si è sempre specialniente occiipato, e
ora, in occasione del suo giubileo, essendosi raccoUa la somma di lire die-
cimila, il Villari l'ha destinata ad un premio per il migliore studio intorno
aile cause che delerminano l'einigrazione in Italia e ai riinedi che si possono
utilmente opporrc al maie.
E tutta ritalia ha applaudito a questo insigne vegliardo, la cui anima si
mantiene cosi giovane e piena di entusiasmo, ardente di amore e di pietà
per il popolo e di fcde in un suo migliore destino.
« »
Emanuele Gianlurco.
Il 10 novembre si è, spento in Napoli Emanuele (jianturco, ministro dei
lavoi'i pubblici. Con lui scom{)are un uomo di grandi virtii pubblicdie e pri-
vate, un nobile carattere e un chiaro ingegno. Oitrechè uomo politico emi-
nente egli fu un illustre giureconsulio c un bi'illante oratore forense. Colli-
vava poi la musica e specialniente il violoncello con virluositk più che da
dilettante.
Partecipô quattro volteal (ioverno:la prima, nel 18'.i3 cnme sottosegrelario
di Grazia, Giustizia e Culti; la seconda, nel 1896, corne ministro delV I>tru-
zione Pubblica; la terza, nel 1897, corne guardasigilli, e finalmente nel 1905
gli fu datoil portafogli dei lavori pubblici . Ouest' uomo, salitoa si alli onori,
fu di modesta origine. Era nato ad A\igliano, umile paese délia Basilicata,
in poverissime condizioni. Suo padre, modeste arligiano, era vedovo con
tre figli quando sposô una popolana intelligente, laboriosa, da cui nacquero
Emanuele e Vincenzo : quest'ultimo valoroso professore di batteriologia nell'
Università di Napoli.
2. célèbre moiiaco ûoi-entino, avverso ai Medici, che fini su! rogo nel 1498.
12271 PARTE ITALIANA 3o
Fra i ti'e figli che il padre aveva avuto dalla prima moglie, il maggiore era
don Peppino, già prête quando nasceva Eiiianuele. Don Peppino, lipo di
prête libérale all'antica, uomo di cuore e di coraggio, comprese ben presto
che Tassidiio lavoro paterno non avrebbe a liingo potuto sopperire alla
seconda famiglia crescente, e allora ideo un distacco doloroso ma necessa-
rio. Egli, fratellastro e maggiore di tutti, sarebbe diventato il padre dci fra-
telli minori e la nuova piccola famiglia sarebbe emigrata a Napoli.
Cosi avvenne. Don Peppino giunse a Xapoli coi fratelli Emanuele e Vin-
cenzo adolescent!, senza mezzi, senza amicizie, ma pieno di fede e di volontà
per lavorare e studiarc. A quarant'anni ricomincio a studiare il greco per
ottenere l'abilitazione alFinsegnamonto. Ottenulolo, Tavvenire dei fratelli gli
parve assicuralo. Destinato come insegnante a Potenza e a Reggio Calabria,
nel duro e talvolta sconsolato pellegrinaggio, i due piccoli fratelli non l'ab-
bandonarono mai. Fu richiamato finalmente a Napoli. E qui, nientre egli
insegnava nel liceo Genovesi, ambo i fratelli presero la laurea giovanissimi.
Mentre frequentava i corsi di giurisprudenza, Emanuele s'iscrissc ai corsi
nel coUegio di musica di San Pietro in Maiella, compiendo gli studî di con-
trappnnto, d'armonia e di istrunientazione.
Egli conservé sempre pel fratello prête e professoro di scnola média —
oscuro e dimenticato, ma primo fra tutti nel disimpegno dei doveri profes-
sionali — rispetto e perfino timoré, come di tîglio a padre e di scolaro a
maestro.
Un altro amore grandissimo ebbe l'estinto per la madré sua, niorta a Roma
lo scorso dicembre all'età di novant'anni. Tutti ricordano che ogni volta
che egli partiva o arrivava a Xapoli, la madré era alla stazione ad attenderlo
ed egli, lasciate le autoritk e gli amici, si rocava da lei ad abbracciarla e
baciarle la mano.
Dopo le inondazioni.
Quel che lascia l'acqua.
Gli ultimi giorni di ottobre e i primi di noTembre, quasi non bastasse il terremoto
Calabrese, furono attristati da gravi inondazioni neila parte média ed estrema dei corso
dei Po.
Finito il flagello il Corriere délia Sera pubblicô un articolo : Quel che lasc'a l'acqua,
da oui togtiamo :
Le acque si ritirano da tutti i luoghi inondati e scoprono spettacoli di
desolazione più dolorosi e più tristi di quelli che offriva l'inondazione stessa
con la sua vasta livellazione, con la sua impenetrabile eguaglianza d'acque
torbide. La piena nascondeva i danni ; celava le sue colpe, devastava al
coperto. Ora le rovine emergono, compaiono a mano a mano che le onde
calmate s'allontanano, come stanche di distruzione e di saccheggio, dai loro
territori d'occupazione. Vi sono villaggi sui quali pare sia passata la furla
d'una battaglia : case sventrate, case abbattute, campi steriliti, alberi divelti',
strade distrutte.
lutte le arginature secondarie sono scomparse, e, siccome suite arginature
correvano le strade comunali, le comunicazioni sono interrotte. Si trasborda
in barca, sul higo. Piantagioni di gelsi e filari di pioppi sono a!)battuti : gli
alberi atterrati nella stessa direzione, con le radici in aria. 11 piccolo sob-
borgo detto dei Crocione ha quasi tutte le case sventrate.
Facciate intere sono crollate, e dalla strada scavata, impantanata, insab-
1. sradicati.
3t) PAHTE ITALIANA [228]
biata, si vodono le can)ere, con Ire sole pareil, che pare stiano versando
fuori, per i pavimenti inclinati e sconnessi, le mobilia.
Strani oggetti si vedono mezzo sepolti nella fanghiglia- : lelti di ferro,
macchine da cucire, utensili. Ai rami degli alberi abbattuU e siigli arbiisti
pettinati dalla corrente sono rimasti aggrovigliati^ indumenti, lenzuola,
coperte, piccoli tesori domestici strappati, corne degrinlestini, dalle case
.squarciate. Ncl fango si scorgono anche dei polli morti.
Qiiando l'inondazione era alla, la popolazione rifugiatasi siigli argini si è
nntrila per vari giorni unicamenle di polli anncgali che galleggiavano nelle
acque fangose. I coiitadini sorridono racconlandolo. Quel cibo délie grandi
feste li conforlava un po", e parlano délia pesca al polio corne d'una cosa
che aveva il suo lalo divertente. È queslo l'unico episodio che non sia
triste 0 tragico.
La matlina del 30, all'alba, sotto la pioggia, sessanta uomini di San Rocco
partirono lungo gli argini verso Guardamiglio per una spedizione audace, e
oslile ad altre regioni : una spedizione di guerra. Essi credevano che tagliando
l'argine del Po a monte^ e aprendo cosi aile acque un nuovo sbocco, il loro
paese sarobbe slalo in parte salvo. Ma il laglio ideato avrebbe forse fatlo
inondare (iuardamiglio, ancora incolume. In cerli momenti non si ragiona
più. 1 paesi hanno anche loro l'islinlo délia conservazione. San Rocco si
difendeva. I sessanta uomini giunsero in un punto ove l'argine maestro del
Po fa una gran ciirva . era il hiogo presccllo. Venti dei piii forti e dei più
abili si disposero in calena e cominciarono rapidamenle ad aprire una
breccia larga un métro. Gli allri quaranla presero posizione di difesa. Il
lavoro incominciû con premura concilala.
Accorsero i guardiani dcU'argine, tulli conladini di Guardamiglio, al suono
dei corni d'allarme, e con loro accorsero i carabinieri. Aile ingiunzioni di
smettere, quel di San Rocco risposero preparandosi alla lotta. Il lavoro
conlinuô alacremente. L'acqua entrava già nello scavo. Quel di Guarda-
miglio erano pochi, e si ritirarono al paese in cerca di rinforzi I carabinieri
rimasero sul posto esortando inulilmcnle i sessanta ad andarsene.
Poco dopo si udirono le campagne di Guardamiglio suonare a martello.
Il villaggio si sollevava, e presto una moltitudine risoliila comparve urlando
suU'argine ; si avvicinava di corsa. Arrivé addosso al nemico. La lolta fu
brève. II sinislro l'intocco délie campane aveva già scosso la risolulezza dei
tagliatori delTargino. Dalla massa dei nuovi arrivali un uomo dalle forme
atleliche si distaccô e pioinbô in mezzo agli avversarî, noncurante délie loro
armi, sferzando pugni. Fu il segnale d'una rapida zulfa-'. Quel di San Rocco
fuggirono. Gli altri non li inseguirono, Iratlenuli dalla nécessita di riparare
ai danni fatti ali'arginatura. Ed eccoli lulti iiilenli a colmare il taglio a furia
di sacchi e di ghiaia.
Erano ancora al lavoro, verso le nove. quando dalla parte di Codogno
arrivarono dei carri diretti a San Rocco. Portavano i primi soccorsi. Andavano
a prendere una parte délia popolazione per ricoverarla a Codogno. Ma quel
di Guardamiglio li fei-marono. «Non si passa ! gridarono. Occhio per occhio.
La gente di San Rocco voleva farci del maie, e noi facciamo del maie a
loro : non si passa ! Indietro ! »
Quando perô udirono che bisognava salvare délie donne e dei bambini
affamati, il loro fiirore cadde. Essi tacquero. Domandarono poi soltanto due
carri in preslilo per trasporlare la ghiaia necessaria a riparare bene il guasto,
e lasciarouo andare gli allri al loro pietoso lavoro.
2. fango. — 3. attaccati, intrecciati. — 4. cioè : risalendo la corrente.
[2291 FAUTE ITALTANA 37
Sugli argini rimasti in piedi e sullo anliclie t'orliticazioni è ancora accam-
pata una parte degli abitanti che non ha più casa. Gli altri sono ospitati a
Piacenza e a Codogno, i cui Gomitati di soccorso dànno prova di una geno-
rosa c instanoabile attività. Singolari capanne si allincano, atlendamenti
zingareschi, lile di carretti il_cui piano fada telto ainlere famiglie, e mandrie
di beslianie cho dimagra.
Questo straordinario bivacco contribuisce a dare ai luoghi un'apparenza di
paose belligérante, di paese che abbia già subite tutte leferocie délia guerra.
Si sente pariarc di opère di difesa urgenti, corne se veramente un nemico
fosse là, sempre minaccioso.
E infatti il nemico è là di fronte, dietro ag'i alberi, e puô tornare alPas-
salto : il Po.
Il Povero ed il ricco*.
111
II ricco avendo ottenuto cio che voleva, cavalcù verso casa, e intanto
andava studiando che cosa gli convenisse desiderare. Mentre ritletleva a
quel modo, e lasciava andar le redini sul collo del cavallo questi comin-
ciu a spiccar dei salti, sicchè gli disturbava il corso dei pensieri ed egli
non poteva venire in chiaro di nulla. Allora cominciù ad arrabbiarsi colla
bestia, e nella sua impazienza esclamô : « Potessi romperti il collo ! »
Aveva detto appena quella parola che, punfete ! si Irovô per terra, et il
cavallo era morto e non si muoveva più, e cosi il primo desiderio era
esaudito. Perù, siccome era avaro, non voleva perdere anche i linimenti,
quindi li tagliù, si pose la sella in ispalle, ed eccolo nella nécessita di
tornarsene a casa a piedi. Si consolava tuttavia pensando che gli resta-
vano ancora due desideri. Mentre camminava fra le sabbie, e sul mezzodi
il sole si fece scottante, aveva un gran caldo e divenne di malumore : e
intanto la sella gli pesava sulla schiena, né frattanto gli era venuto in
testa che cosa dovesse desiderare. — « Se anche, pensava, io chiedessi
tutti i regni e i tesori délia terra, mi resterebbero ancora un' intinità di
desideri insodisfalti ; Io so a priori ; io invece voglio formulare un desi-
derio taie che dopo non mi resti più nulla da desiderare. n Ma ogni volta
che gli pareva di aver trovato il latto suo ', ecco che subito quella cosa
che voleva chiedere gli pareva troppo poca, troppo meschina. A un tratto
gli venue in testa quanto bene se la passasse frattanto sua moglie -, seduta
in una bella caméra fresca e certo occupata a mangiar di gusto. Quel
pensiero gli diede la stizza, e senz'avvedersene esclamo : « Mi piacerebbe
che quella là sedesse su questa sella e non potesse scender giù, anzi che
dovermela portar io sulle spalle ! » Non aveva detto ancora l'ultima
parola che la sella spari ed egli capl che anche il suo secondo desiderio
era stato esaudito. Allora si senti un gran caldo e si mise a correre, per
giungere a casa e sedersi in disparte a pensare qualcosa di grande per il
terzo desiderio. Ma ecco che arrivando a casa e aprendo la porta délia
stanza, trova la moglie che sedeva sulla sella, e non riusciva a scender
giù e si lamentava e gridava. — « Datti pace, disse lui, io chiederù per
te tutte le ricchezze dell' universo, solo che tu rimanga li ! » Ma ella
* Vedi le altre quattro parti. — 1. ciô che gli conveniva. — 2. passarsela bene
star bene, stare comodamente.
38 PARTE ITALIANA [230]
rispose : « Che mi giovano tulte le ricchezze dell' universo se devo restar
qiiassù? se è in grazia a un tiio desiderio che ci son salita, tocca a te ora,
farmene scendere. » Yolere o no, egli dovette esprimere il desiderio che
ella fosse liberata dalla sella e potesse scenderne ; ed anche questo terzo
desiderio fii esaudito. Cosi il ricavo netlo lu molta rabbia e fiitica e un
cavallo perdulo ; i poveri invece se ne vissero contenli, qiiieli e pii, e
finirono poi serenamente.
Fratelli Guimm.
(dal tedesco.)
Un avaro.
Ottavio solo.
Ott. (va raccoglieiido da terra lutte le minute cose che Irova). — Questo
pezzo di carta sarà buono per involgervi qualche cosa. Questo spago
servira per legare un sacchetto. In qiiesta casa tutto si iascia andare a
maie. Se non fossi io che abbadassi • a tutto, povero me !
Entra Thappola
camminaiido forte con una sporta-in niano.
Ott. — Va piano, va piano, bestia, che tu non rompa le uova.
TitAP. — Lasci cli'io vada a l'are il desinare, acciù non si consumi il
fuoco.
Ott. — Asinaccio ! chi t'ha insegnato a accendere il fuoco cosi per
tempo ? Io Iho sper)to, ed ora lo tornerai ad accendere.
ÏRAP. — Sia maledetta lavarizia.
Ott. — Si, SI, avarizia ! Se non avessi un poco d'economia, non si
mangerebbe come si fa. Yien qui : hai fatto buona spesa '?
Tkap. — Ho giratotuttaBologna per aver l'uovaa mezzobaiocco' l'una.
Ott. — Gran cosa ! tutto caro, tutto carro ! Non si puù vivere. Quante
ne hai prese ?
TiiAP. — Quattro baiocchi.
Ott. — Quattro baiocchi ? Che diavolo abbiamo a l'are d'otto uova '?
TiîAP. — In quattro persone è veramente troppo.
Ott, — Un uovo per uno si mangia e non più.
TiiAP. — E se n'avanza, vanno a uialc '.'
Ott. — Possono cadere, si possono roinpere. Quel maledetto gatto me
ne ha rotle délie altre.
ÏRAP. — Le metteremo in una pentola.
Ott. — E se si ronipe la peutola, si rompono tutte. No, no, le metterù
io nella cassa délia farina, dove non coi'rerannopericolo. Lasciami veder
quelle uova.
Trap. — Eccole quà.
Ott. — Uh ignorante ! Non sai spendere t Sono piccole, non le voglio
assolutamente; portale indietro, ch'io non le voglio.
TitAP. — Sono délie più grosse che si trovino.
* Dal Vero amico, atto 1, scena 7» . — l. badassi. — 2. \aligia o cesta. — 3. moneta
antica, vale circa un soldo.
[231] PARTE IÏALIA^A 39
Ott. — Délie più grosse :' Sei un balordo '-. Osserva : (luesta è la misura
deiruovo. Oaelle che pussano per queiranello son piccole e non le
voglio.
Trap (da se). — Oh avaro maledetto ! Anche la misura deU'uovo ?
Ott. — Questo passa, questo non passa, questo non passa, questo passa,
qnesto passa, questo non passa, cpiesto passa, questo non passa. Quattro
passano e (juattro non passano. Oueste le tengo(se le pone neila tasca delta
veste da caméra) e queste portale indietro.
ÏUAP. — Ma corne ho da l'are a trovare i contadini che le hanno ven-
dnte ?
Ott. — Pensaci tu, cli'io non le voglio. Ma corne le porterai ? Se le
porti in mano le romperai. Mettile nella sporta.
TuAP. — Nella sporta vi è dell'altra roba.
Ott. — Altra roba fche cosa c'è ?
Trap. — L'insalata.
Ott. — Oh ! si, si, l'insalata. Quanta ne hai presa ?
Trap. — Un baiocco.
Ott. — Basta mezzo, da' qui la raetà e l'altra portala indietro.
Trap. — Non lavorranno più indietro,
Ott. — Fortala, che li venga la rabbia.
Trap. — Ma corne ho da lare ?
Ott. — Da qui la inetà nel mio fazzolelto {Cava il fazzoletto e gli
cadono le uova e si rom-pono.) Ohimè, ohimè ! {Jrappola ride.) Turidi
eh, mascalzone? ridi délie miedisgrazie, del luo padrone? Quelle uova vale-
vano due baiocchi. Saitu che cosa sianodue baiocchi "Ml danaro sisemina
come la biada, e all'uomo di giudizio un baiocco Irutta tanti baiocchi,
quanti granelli in una spiga produce un grano. Povere quattro uova!
Povere quattro uova ! Poveri due baiocchi !
Trap. — Queste quattro le ho io ha riportaie indietro '?
Ott. — Ah ! Bisognerà tenerle per mia disgrazia.
Trap. — Vado ad accendere il i'uoco.
Ott. — Avverti ^, non consumar troppa legna.
TiiAP. — Per quattro uova poco fuoco ci vuole.
Oit [osservando quelle in terra). — Quattro e quattro otto.
Carlo GoLDONi.
i. scimup.ito, sciocco. — 5. Bada.
Briciola.
(Co.ntinuazio.ne)
A sentirsi vilipendore ', la donna cominciù a ingiuriare il niarito, il
l)imbo a strillare piii forte, e chi sa corne la sarebbe linita se Briciola,
commossa forse dall' insolita parola ad'ettuosa del padre, non si losse
alzata dicendo colla sua vocina stanca : — Vado, mamnia.
Essa staccô da un chiodoun vecchioscialletto e se lo mise in testa ; poi
stese la mano alla madré, che esclamo brontolando :
1. offendere, svillaneggiare. _
40 PAHTE ITALIANA [232]
— Ah, ora ti decidi ! — si frugô in tasca, e ne trasse qiialche soldo
che le di'ede. — Va, e ia presto, — aggiunse poisgarbatamente, neppure
un momento locca -^ dal sagrificio délia Hgiiola.
Ma il padre se la tifô vicino un inomeuto e la baciù in froiite, mor-
morandole all'oreccliio :
— Domani, sai, ti porterô le chicche^
La bimba non rispose, ne sorrise ; s'indugio un istante sotto la carezza
paterna, poi aperto l'uscio, sguscio via nella notte. L'aria gelata entro
turbinando nell' angusto locale, facendo rabbrividire i rimasti. Bonelli
morinoro un'imprecazione tra i deuti, la donna e il bambino tac(juero.
E Briciola ? Briciola, tenendosi stretto il suo misero scialle sulle spalle,
tremando e battendo i denti, cogli occhi acciecati dal nevischio che il
vento le sbatteva in viso senza misericordia, correva incontro al suo
destino.
Non era micatanto vicina la botteguccia del venditore di caldarrosteS
e le toccava attraversare due strade prima di giungere alla piazzetta dove
egli si trovava.
Impaurita dall' oscurità e dal sentirsi cosî sola per le strade a quel-
l'ora, facendosi forza contro il vento impetuoso, la povera piccina svoltô,
correndo, l'angolo délia strada e non vide unacarrozza che le veniva in-
contro.
Al grido d'allarme del cocchiere, essa comprese, l'ece per ritrarsi, ma
il piede le scivolo sul fango ghiacciato délia via, e, con un urlo straziante,
la piccola martire rotolô sotto i piedi dei cavalli. . .
» *
E intanto il calzolajo, subito pentito di averla lasciata partire, inter-
rompe un momento il lavoro per andare a guardare fuori : la chiama,
s'inquiéta, maledice l'egoismo délia moglio e la propria miseria. . . .
Povero padre, chiamala pure, aspettala ancora, ascolta siilla porta, ma
quel passini non li udrai più !
AH'ospedale dove la portarono, le suore si atïbllarono pietose attorno
al piccolo cadavere, e vedendo quel visino rigido nella morte, si dissero
che ben di rado i bambini uccisi da morte violenta avevano taie espres-
sione di félicita.
Infatti, un sorriso d'angelo irradiava quel volto macilento. Qualche
visione non certo délia terra le era apparsa nella brève agonia. Gli occhi
aperti, vivi, guardavano estatici ; i pallidi labbruzzi sorridevano mi-
steriosamenle ...
Yantyé.
2. commossa. — 3. i dolci. — 4. le cnstngne arrostite.
Per ridere.
Un signore si avvicina ad una sentinella e gli demanda :
— È questo il fucile a lunga porta ta ?
— Pur troppo ! è dalle sette di questa mattina che lo porto.
Les Cinq Langues
N" 6 20 Décembre 1907. 8« Année.
PARTE ITALIANA
Parodia o contraffazione ?
Il fatto è noto.
Mentre La Figlia cli Jorio di Gabriele d'Annunzio trionfava suUe scène ita-
liane, Scarpetta, comico napoletano iii grande ingegno, pensô di fare la paro-
dia del célèbre dramma, e venne l'uori con un Figlio di Jorio ricalcato sulle
tracce di quello ma con intenlo unioristico.
Il d'Annunzio, sia che gli spiacesse proprio quella caricatura, sia che cer-
cLisse nuo\a occasione a far parlare di se, intenlo processo allô Scarpetta.
La cosa venne dapprima deferita a tre periti che diedero ragione al d'An-
nunzio ; ma Scarpetta si appello. Due altri giudici furono designali entrambi
competentissimi, e cioè : Giorgio Arcoleo, senatore del Regno o professore
nella Facolta di Legge dcU'Universita di Napoli, e Benedetto Croce, autore
deir Estetica e il critico letterario forse più dotto e apprezzato d"ltalia.
Ora vien pubblicata la loro relazione, intéressante per cio che, con chiarezza
e autorità di dottrina, segna la linea esalta di demarcazione tra la parodia
e la contratfazione.
Ecco in parle linteressanle pagina :
Napoli, 7 novembre.
La domanda, che ci è stata rivolta, è : — se, lenute presenti le circostanze
risullanli dagli atti e fatto il confronlo tra la Fie/lia di Jorio del D'Annunzio
e 11 figlio di Jorio dello Scarpetta, possa dirsi che lo Scarpetta abbia com-
messo un reato di contra ff'a^iojie inercè rappresentazione e riproduzione abii-
siva ; o si sia invece mantenuto nei limiti di i\ns. parodia, non vietata dalle
leggi e ammessa presso tutti i popoli c in tutti i tempi. —
E noi, fatto il confronlo ed esaniinati gli atti, non dubitiamodi risponderc
nel più reciso modo negativo alla prima parte délia domanda, e nel piii
reciso modo affermativo alla seconda parte.
ContralTare un'opera d'arte non pnô signiflcare altro se non appropriarsi
VeffeLto artistico e pateiico di quellopera, sia col traduria e ridiirla, sia col
mutare superficialmente qnalche nome o qnalche particolare, sia con altri
espedienti analoghi, che possano escogitarsi ; sempre mirando a soslituire,
coHopera cosi camuiïata' e allerata, Topera originale ; e dando luogo, per
tal modo, a una \er-A concorrenza sleale.
La contraffazione — che, per le forme ingannevoli che assume, non sem-
pre pnô essere colpita dalla legge — consiste nel mutare, se questo giova,
in maggiore o minor misura, lingiia e particolari, serbando lo spirito
dell'opera. La parodia, invece, puo serbare moUissimi particolari, e pertino
quasi integro il linguaggio dell'opera parodiata ; ma ne muta sempre lo spi-
rito animaiore. Il criterio distinlivo dei due fatti è. dunque, netlissimo ; ed
4. camuffare = travestire in modo riilicolo.
[35] ITAL. 6
42 PARTE ITALIANA [274]
è perciô un metodo poco conducente, per determinare se un'opera sia con-
traffazione anzichè parodia, quello di ricercare e computareil numéro niag-
oiore 0 minore di parlicolari che in queU'opera si Irovino simili all'origi-
nale. La ricerca da tare è, invece, se lo spirito animatore o il tono dell'ori-
ginale siastato o no mutato ; di tragico in comico, di serio in ridicolo, di
triste in giocondo.
Ora, che ciô sia accaduto pel Figlio di Jorio dello Scarpetla rispetto alla
tragedia pastorale del D'Annunzio, sembra a noi cosa che saltaagliocchi.
Non solo il titolo è di verso, ma è diverso il sesso del protagonista, e diversi
i personaggi con la stessa radicale differenza di sesso, che basla da sola a
mutare sostanzialmente idée, attetti, iinguaggio.azione. Diverso èTambienle,
saturo di tradizioni seivagge, di paiire mistiche, di pregiudizii religiosi, di
forza brutale, che dà rilievi e conlrasti violenti sopra uno sfondo scuro e
tra-^nco, nelToperadel DAnnunzio : laddove, in quella dello Scarpetta, si Ira-
sforma o déforma in una série volgare di equivoci, di sorprese, di pettegolezzi
nei quali prévale il trivio-, che vuol essere comico sempre, con liinico inten-
dimentodi destare riso, non pietà.Di versa è la fine, che è 11 nacata s trofenelTopera
d'annunziana, e diventa una lietasolnzionenelloperascarpeltiana. Siagginnga
la forma dialettale, che è adoperata non a dar i'e(inivalente del pathos d'an-
nunziano, ma a farne la caricatura.
Ma questo nostro parère, cosi difforme da quello dci periti che ci hanno
preceduti, ci mette neirobligo didomandarci corne mai egregi letterati siano
potuli giungere a un giudizio, che a noi sembra del tiilto erroneo, in ima
questione che, d'altra parte, a noi sembra di semplicissima e indubitabile
soluzione.
La prima cagione d'errore è proveniita da un preconcolto di critica lettera-
ria, noto col nome di preconcetto dei qeneri o dei tipi fîssi. I nostri prede-
cessori, in luogo di considerare Tessenza délia parodia, hanno prcso corne
termine di confronto alcnni gruppi parlicolari di parodie, e in ispecie quelle
delTAHavilla e delPelito ; onde hanno ragionato cosi: — Topera dello Scar-
petla non risponde al tipo di cio che noi chiamiamo parodia ; dunque, non
è una parodia
La seconda cagione di errore è stata nello scambio tra il giudizio sull'in-
dole di un lavoro e quello sulla sua bellezza o bruttezza; ossia nell'aver
perduta di vista la questione giuridicn per la questione letteraria. (losi nella
prosa delgiudicc istruttore comein quella dei periti, noi incontriamo espres-
sioni di questo génère, a proposilo del lavoro dello Scarpetta: coniiene tri-
viali e disadorne traduzioni dei niagnifici versi dell'originale ; è siomacJievote ;
vi sono incoerenze e infrazioni del color L -cale ; il senso délia comici'à ha qui
abbandonato lo Scarpetta; è una co?itrai fnzione, se non intenzionale, di fatto;
lo Scarpetta voile fare una parodia, ma non vi riiisci ; ecc. ecc. Ora, noi pos-
siamo rallegrarci, in qualità di letterati. di queste manifestazioni di viva
sensibilità esletica anche da ])arle del giudice islrutlore; e possiamo essere
su per giù d'accordo con lui nella riprovazione letteraria del lavoro dello
Scarpetta; ma, corne periti, dobbiamo animonire di non confondere le que-
stioni. Lo Scarpetta dovrebbe C'^sere condannato, se avcsse commesso una
contraffazione ; il che non è. Ma non puô essere condannato per aver dato al
pubblico un'opera letteraria sb 'g'iata. (iiacchè, per non dir altro, se questo
principio si ammeltesse, di condnnnare giudizialmente gli autori di opère
letterarie sbagliate, troppo gran lavoro avrebbero i tribunali !
Giorgio Arcoleo.
Benedetto Cuoce.
2. dicesi trivio per dire un ambiente sommameiite volgare c abietto,
12751 PARTE 1TA.LIANA
La nuova Principessina S^bauda e le Giovanne
di Casa Savoia.
La Casa sabanda è stata allietata dalla nascita di iina nuova Principessa,
quartogenita di Re Viltorio Emanuele III e délia Regina Elena. Alla nuova
Principessa è statu imposlo il nome di (iiovanna, un tempo assai comune
nella genealogia di Casa Savoia.
La prima Giovanna fii figlia di Ottone Duca di Aosta e dcl Cliiablesp,
Donna di energia e di volontà virile, essendo (iglia unica, tenlo, alla morte
del padre, di succedergli nel dominio del Diicato, che invece per legge
doveva passare al più prossimo parente maschio.
Dopo una série di altre Principesse di qiiesto nome di cui non si ricorda
nessuna spéciale gesta, la storia regislra Maria Giovanna Battista, più nota
sotto il nome di Madama Reale.
Nata nel 1644 da Amedeo di Savoia Duca di >»'emours, nel 1665 andô sposa
a Carlo Emanuele II di cui rimase vedova nel 167").
Siccome Vittorio Amedeo II non aveva che nove anni, a loi toccô la Reg-
genza, e durante la Reggenza ebbe campo di mostrare le solide virtù délia
mente e del carattere.
Molti sono gii slorici che esaltano il suo buon governo, principale fra essi
il Muratori. Essa fu donna di alti sentimenti, di molta coltura, di ferma
saggezza : a lei si deve la fondazione deirAccademia reale di Belle Arti,
ristitnzione di un Consiglio cavalleresco per decidere dclle qnestioni d'onore,
la costruzione del palazzo Carignano.
Due episodî che si riferiscono ai suoi rapporti con Luigi XIV meritano di
essere ricordati, poichè dimostrano quale fosse la lierezza del suo carattere :
il primo riguarda l'assassinio di Alessandro Stradella, il musicista e cantore
napoletano iicciso a Genovada un suo rivale. L'assassino e i suoi complici,
compiuto il delitto, si erano rifugiati nella residenza deirambasciatore di
Francia che segretamente li proleggcva ; ma la Duchessa indignata corne
tutti i suoi sudditi, impose all'ambasciatore energicamente la consegna im-
niediata dei colpevoli. L'altro episodio ricorda i giorni più tristi e dolorosi
délia sua Reggenza. Il Ducato era invaso dalle truppe straniere ; l'alleanza
francese le era imposta e Giovanna dovette piegare alla nécessita. Ma quando
come patto di alleanza si tratlô di oifrirle una pensione vilalizia di oUre
centomila lire e distribuire fra i ministri altre pensioni minori, la fierezza
délia doima e délia principessa si risvegliô in lei. Essa non vendeva la sua
libertà e rispose aU'ambasciatore : — Sarebbe più onorevole pel Re e più
degno délia mia riconoscenza, se egli volesse rivolgere piuttosto a mio tiglio
le sue liberalità, dandogli cosi il mezzo di mantenere un maggior numéro di
soldali ». L'ambascialore di Luigi XIV abbasso lo sguardo e non insisté.
La nuova principessa nostra accrescerk pregio al bel nome, che ricorda
accanto alla tierezzadi Giovanna di Nemours, la dolce anima di un'allra Gio-
vanna délia sua stirpe ; la figlia santa di Luigi XI di Francia e di xMarghci'ita
di Savoia.
La casa di Nazaret *.
Presso la cuna del figliuol divinn
Sta (ilando la Vergin benedetta,
E San Giuseppe, con in man l'accella,
Acconcia il Ironco dun reciso pino.
* Ques«a graziosa lirica fu trovata, inedita, fra le carie di Costantiiio Nigra, non
meiio valeiite lellerato che diplomatico. La stampô per primo // Giurnale d'Italia.
4i
PARTE ITALIANA
[276]
Ma nel tepor primaverile è sccso
Leggiero il sonno siilla casa pia ;
Cadiito è il fiiso ai piedi di Maria,
Donne Giiiseppe sulla pancn steso.
Ralïaello Saiizio. — La Sacra Fauiiglia.
E il piccolo (lesîi si leva, e il fuso
Raccoglie e fila. Ma, comei lo locca.
In tino argento caiigiasi la rocca,
L'arida lanain lila doi'o l'uso.
Poi con la pialla il duro albero monda
Corne virginei ricci in torli* giri,
1. attorti, ronlorti.
[277] PARTE ITALIANA io
0 nastri pinti^ nei color dell'Iri-',
La ghirlanda dei tracioli* il circonda.
Gli areangeli in immensa teoria ■•
Ei fianimeggianti clierubini in coro,
Miran cantando l'umile lavoro
Délie mani dei figlio di Maria.
Ma dei celesli messi, ecco, la voce
Si muta in pianto, e si raccliiudon l'aie,
Poichè in man delTartefice iramorlale
L'albero a un tralto s"é foggiato in oroce.
Costantino Nigra.
2. dipinti. — 3. iride. — 4. copeaux. — 5. coro, schiera.
Sarah Bernhardt e Edison*.
La vettura avanzô ancoia di qualche passo, e ci trovammo dinanzi la
casa deirillostre Tommaso Edison.
Un gruppo di persone ci attendeva sotto le véranda : quattrouomini,
due signore ed una signorina. Il cuore mi batleva : qnale di qiiegli uomini
era Edison ? Non avevo visto la sua fotogratia ed aninùravo profonda-
mente quelFindividuo géniale.
Balzai giù dal legno. La luce elettrica abbagliante dava l'illusione di
essere di pieno meriggio. Presi il mazzo che mi presentava la signora
Edison, e mentre la ringraziavo cercavo di indovinare quale di quegli
uomini fosse il granduomo. Tutti e quattro si erano avanzati verso dirae,
ma l'un d'essl arrossi leggermente e il suo occliio azzurro espresse una
noia cosi piena di angoscia che indovinai in lui Edison.
Divenni coni'usa e imbarazzata a mia volta, perché sentii che lo di-
sturbavo. Nella mia visita egli non iscorgeva che la banale curiosità d'una
straniera smaniosa di far parlare di se : già egli presentiva le interviste
dei giorno dopo e le sciocchezze che gli avrebbero fallo dire. Anticipata-
mente egli soti'riva délie domande insulse che gli avrei rivolte, délie spie-
gazioni che egli dovrebbe darrai per cortesia ; e durante un minuto
Tommaso Edison midetestù cordialmente.
Il suo meraviglioso occhio azzurro, piîi luminosoche le sue lampade
incandescenti, mi dava agio di leggere tutti i suoi pensieri.
Aliora capii che mi bisognava conquistarlo, e il mio natîo spirito di
combattimento fece appello a tutte le mie forze di seduzione per vincere
quel delizioso e timido scienzialo.
Me la presi cosi bene che una mezz'ora dopo eravamo i migliori amici
dei mondo. Lo seguivo rapidamente arrampicandomi su per délie scale
dritte corne scale a mano, attraversando dei ponti sospesi al di sopra di
vere fornaci : egli mi spiegava ogni cosa.
lo capivo ogni cosa e la mia ammirazione per lui cresceva ognor più,
poichè era semplice e att'ascinante, quelre délia luce !
Mentre entrambi sul ponte leggero e mobile, stavamo curvi suU'abisso
spaventoso dove giravano, si volgevano, cigolavano immense ruote chiuse
da larghe correggie, con chiara voce egli dava ordini varii, e la luce rom-
peva da ogni lato, ora in zampilli crepitanti e verdastri, ora in rapidi
lampi, e ora in istriscie serpentine simili a ruscelli di fuoco.
Guardavo quell'uomo di média statura, un p5 grossa la testa e il
profile pieno di nobiltà,e pensavoa Napoleone I. Certo una grande somi-
' Vedi lo stesso nelle altre quattro parti.
46 PAllTK ITALIANA [278]
glianza fisica esiste tra quei due iiomiiii e sono certa che vi è iiel loro
cervello un lobo che è identico. Senza dubbio non paragono i loro genii:
l'uno (ïi un « distruttore », l'altro un « creatore ».
Ma benchè io esecri le battaglie, adoro le viltorie, e, non estante isuoi
torti, ho innalzato nel mio cuore un altare a quel Dio délia morte, a quel
Dio délia gloria, a Napoleone.
Dunque, guardavo Edison, pensosa, avvicinando la sua immagine a
quella del gran morto.
Il rumoreassordante délie macchine, l'abbaglianterapidllà dei cambia-
menti di lucemi davanola vertigine ; dimenticando dove mi trovassi mi
appoggiati sul lieve sostegno che mi separava dall'abisso, con una taie
incoscienza del pericolo che, prima ancora che io potessi rimottermi del
mio stordimento, Edison mi trasse in una sala viciua e mi adagio su una
pol trôna senza che me ne avvedessi. Poco dopo mi disse che ero stata
coltada vertigine. S^iral^ Bernhardt.
Il regalo del Bambino.
(Racconto di Natale.)
Benchè fosse ancora molto per tempo e sulla campagna coperta di
brina sodiasse un'arielta fredda che intirizziva, Geppino, al solito, spinse
il battente délia porta carraia * — molto grève per le sue piccole braccia —
e attraverso la strada per andare ad attingere Tacqua al pozzo comunale.
— Bravo, Geppino, sempre su per tempo !
Era ilsaluto di mastro Titta il fornaio che, ritto davanti la sua bot-
tega, aiutava i garzoni a scaricare alcuni sacchi di farina.
— Buon giorno, mastro Titta, disse serio il bambino.
— Eh allegro, allegro, domani c Natale : hai da far festa anche tu. Che
regalo aspettiche ti porti il Bambino ?
Geppino scosse la lesta con gravita précoce.
— Non aspelto ni en te, io.
Mastro Titta rise.
— Guardate lî che ometto, è alto un soldo dicacio-e non crede piii al
Bambino. Orsù attenti a quel che fate, poltroni.
Quest'ultima l'rase era rivolta ai garzoïii che Irasportavano i sacchi nel
retrobottega, e da querl momento tutta l'attenzione del fornaio torno a
concentrarsi su di loro.
Geppino, lasciato a se, calo il secchio nel pozzo, poi (|uando udi il
tonfo annunciante che esso si era immerso, si mise lentamente a tirar
su, dipanando la corda attorno all'argano. in alto la puleggia ^ cigolava
con un suo noto cigolio stridulo ; un suon di campane veniva dal campa-
nile délia parrocchia, e l'aria purae frizzante del niattino carezzava il viso
del piccolo come se volesse dirgli qualcosa.
*
# m
La chiesa parrocchiale del villaggio era tutto uno sfolgorio di ceri rom-
penti dal gran bnio délia navata. L'organo su in alto versava le sue lar-
ghe onde sonore sposate al canto liturgico, sul capo reclinato dei fedeli
alïbllati.
Fuori era la notte, la pia notte, la gran notle prodigiosa del Natale.
1. porte cochére. — 2. alto una spanna, piccolo. — 3. o carrucola = poulie.
[2791 PAItTE ITALTANA 47
Geppino accoccolato '► su un banco vicino all'altar maggiore in mezzo
allô sciame degli altri ragazzetti gnardava innanzi a se, comme estatico.
Una deliziosa incoscienza lo invadeva a poco a poco, e in quel benes-
sere egli dimenticava tutte le cure délia sua piccola vita giâ cosidolo-
rosa.
Ecco, egli non era più Geppino il vaccaro che da quattr'anni traeva la
grama esistenza in una casa che non era la sua., dove nessuno gli sor-
rideva e lo carezzava e nessuna dolcezza veniva mai a interrompere l'uni-
formità délie sue giornate laboriose. Ecco, egli dimenticava che la
sua povera mamma era morta e che il suo babbo era partito per l'Ame-
rica e non se n'era mai più saputo nulla.
Eppure quello era il suo incessante pensiero, povero Geppino !
Mentre pascolava le mucche nel prato, seduto sotto un albero, la sua
testolina andava, andava, alla ricerca di quel padre che tutti dice-
vano morto, e ch'egli si ostinava a creder vivo, chissà, malato forse 0
piombato nelFestrema miseria, sperduto in una di quelle grandi città
americane dove i poveri emigranti patiscono tanti stenti.
Ancora qualche anno, sognava Geppino, e poi non mi collocherù a
padrone a meno di ottanta o cento lire, e allora farù ben economia,
faro durare gli abiti e gli zoccoli più a lungo che potrô e il resto lo met-
terô tutto da parte ; poi quando avrù un bel gruzzolo partirô, andrù in
America ancli' io, e allora. . .
Cosi sognava Geppino all'ombra dei pioppi che stormivano. Ma ora 11,
in quella bella chiesa piena di suoni e di canti,i suoi pensieri pigliavano
un altro corso,
Ecco, egli era nella stessa chiesa molti anni fa, piccolo piccolo, e suo
padre lo teneva in braccio. Come adesso gnardava i lu mi e ascoltava
l'organo e l'issava il presepio ove, tra il bue e l'asino, vegliato da Giu-
seppe e da Maria, il bambinello coronato di raggi stendeva le braccia
verso gli uomini con un geste d'amore.
Rannicchiato sul braccio del babbo, colla testa appoggiata sulla sua
spalla, Geppino sentiva un gran caldo e una gran voglia di dormire. Poi
la funzioiie doveva esser tinita : Geppino aveva la sensazione dell'aria
esteriia,gelida. Ma una mano amorosa glicalava il berrettmo sugli occhi,
gli stringeva la cravatta di lana attorno al viso. Adesso camminavano :
Geppino sentiva confusamente il brusio ^ délie voci dei contadini che
tornavano ai loro casolari, il ritmo del passo paterno locullava,e stavolta
egli si addormiva proprio profondamente.
Poi di nuovo luce, caldo ; Geppino apriva gli occhi. — Erano arrivati
a casa ; un gran fuoco bruciava nel focolare, sulla tavola fumava la
zuppiera, le castagne che cuocevano spandevano il loro aroma. 11 padre
scott'va la neve dagli zoccoli e dal mantello, la mamma correva afîac-
cendata per la cucina. Geppino aveva caldo, appetito, era cos\ felice. . .
Si scosse, ecco, si era addormentato per davvero e l'ultima parte dei
suoi ricordi Taveva ritrovata in sogno.
Si alzù in fretta perche tutti si affollavano già all'uscita; dalla porta
gettù un ultimo sguardo al presepio che raggiava nella luce dei ceri.
Mentre camminava tra ungruppo di contadini che avanzavano allume
4. rasgomitolalo. — 5. mormorio confuso.
48 PARTE ITALIANA [280]
di una lanterna di carta, Geppino, stretto nel suo piccolo mantello, pen-
sava ancora al Bambino del Presepio.
Una volta aveva creduto anche lui che in quella notte Gesii fanciullo
andasse perle case degli uomini distribuendo i suoi doni ai bimbi buoni
e laboriosi ; ma adesso non lo credeva più.
Erano le persone che volevano loro bene che portavano i doni ai
bimbi, percio i suoi padroncini ne avevano ogni anno dei magiiitici,
mentre sempre invano egli aveva atteso un ninnolo o un dolce. Ecco
perche, il mattino, egli aveva risposto a quel modo a Mastro Titta il for-
naio.
* *
Quando entrô nellagrandecucina dei padroni dove il fuoco scoppietava
e nella pentolacuocevanolerituali castagne, il primo pensierodi Geppino
lu di correre a cavar fuori dall'armadio le bottiglie del vino per andarle
ariempire alla botte. Dopo attingerebbe l'acqua, e certo la grossa Maria
gli direbbe ancora di portar dell'altra legna per mantenere la tiammata.
Ma mentre apriva l'armadio il padrone lo chiainù.
— Ehi Geppino, dove corri ? non vedi che ci sono dei forestieri ?
Geppino alzo gli occhi e vide suUa panca accanto al focoiare un uomo
sconosciuto che aveva una faccia macilenta e una barba biondiccia
sparsadi lilidi argento. Unabrutta valigia lacera era posata ai suoi piedi.
Geppino guardu stupito. Perché gli diceva quello il padrone ?
Ma prima che avesse il tempo di larsi quella domaiida, vide l'uomo al-
zarsi di botloS si seuti stretto fra due braccie e si udi singhiozzare sul capo :
— Lui, lui, com'è diventato grande !
Stupito egli restava iuerte ; e allora l'uomo lo scostù da se, lo tenue
un pu lontano.
— Ma non mi conosci, non conosci più il papa?
Geppino videa untratto ognicosaoscurarsi, si senti traballare le gambe,
cadde tra due braccia che lo stringevano " Papa papa ".
Uu'ora dopo sul suo pagliericcio egli riposava accanto al babbo.
Nella casa tutti dormivano. Geppino non poteva pigliar sonno.
— Papa partiremo domani ?
— SI, douiani, liglio mio,
— E torneremo alla nostra casetta vicino al Pilone délia Madonna ?
— No, Oglio mio, andremo lontano. Dobbiamo andar là dove per noi
c'è pane e lavoro.
— Povera uiauima lei non puo venire ?
— Povera ma m m a !
— Papa, e non partirai mai più ? Staremo seinprc insieme :'
— Sempre, Geppino, non ci separeremo mai più.
Geppino si striuse ancor di più contro la spalladel pailre e poco dopo
la stanchezza lo vinse ; si addormento.
E sogno clie aiidava couie allora, al ritmo del passo palerno nella pia
notte di Natale verso una casa bella, piena di caido e di liice. 11 suono
délie campaae echeggiava nella mistica sereuità notturna ; meutre lag-
giù nella chiesa, sulla paglia, Ira i ceri, avvolto nel suo nimbod'oro il
bambino Gesù continuava a tendere le braccia agli uomini cou un gesto
d'amore. Barbara Allason-Wick.
r>. d'un trallo.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 7.
5 Janvier 1908.
8« Année.
PARTE ITALIANA
Giudici di campo.
Ecco un' istantanea délie grandi manovre.
Tutti sanno ciô che sono le grandi manovre. Due partit! di finti nemici sono
posti di fronte — i rossi e gli azzurri, poniamo — ; in mezzo stanno, impar-
ziali, i ghidici di campo — i bianchi.
I rossi e gli azziirri fanno attachi e contrattacchi, sortite improvvise e
Giudici di campo.
ripiegamenti non meno inaspettati, essi procedono per scaramucce', poi
vengono a battaglia campale : la fanteria dispone i suoi batlaglioni, Varti-
(jlieria protegge lo schieramento délia fanteria e ne copre la ritirata, la
cavalleria ha il suo momento eroico, la carica che si abbatte siil quadrato,
forniidabile muraglia umana ; il genio scava fossi, costruisce ponti, âpre
strade ed érige Irincee.
l giudici di campo osservano eannotano, calcolanole probabilità divittoria
deH'iino et dell'altro partito, conlano i morti che ci dovrebbero essere... ma
non ci sono, stabiliscono quale e quanto di Iruppa dovrebbe essere messo
fuori combattimento dal fuoco avversario ... se non fosse un fuoco per
i. combattimenti di pochi uomini.
[35]
50 PAHTE ITALIANA [322 1
ridere, c dopo aver tiitto vaglialo, esaminato, ponderato, decretano a chi
sia toccata la vittoria, a chi la sconfitta.
Dopodi che cavalleria e fanteria, hrillanti reggimenti e bnttaglioni com-
patti, iiomini, bestie. cariaggi, l'ucili ritornano aile rispettive caserme....
aspellando il giorno che si faccia pcr davvero.
M. A.
Miscellanea.
Il fatto d'avere il Matin bandito un nuovo raid automobilistico per la
meta occidentale del mondo (da New York a Parigi, passando sui ghiacci
degli estremi lembi nord-amcricani), ha indotto un redattore del Giomale
cCItalia a chiedere al principe Rorghese cosa ne pensasse ; ma il principe —
appunto per essere stato vinciloro del raid orientale — se ne schermi limi-
tandosi a dire délia sua « moderata tiducia nell'esito délia nuova impresa »
alla qiiale disse che non prenderà parte. «Impresa impossibile ? « gli fii
chieslo. Maegli ribaltè che nuUa è irapossibile quando si abbiano volontii
e denaro; solo evitava dar giiidizî per non far la figura d'uno specialista in
traversate continentali. Fii facile osservargli che se esisteva nno specialisin
cra proprio lui ; al che il principe rispose dando nna notizia che è davvero
caratteristica — « Già — disse — appnnto per cio mi hanno nominato mem-
bro d'una Commissione per la scella di un automobile postale ! !» 11 giorn.i-
lista non insistette e il principe si dilegiiô.
È in progoUo l'isiitiizione di una a Società di filologiamoderna » aventeper
iscopo di promuovere l'intéresse per le Ictteralure straniere. — A questo
SGOpo la Società fondera una rivista e cercherk inollre di agevolare e molti-
plicare le buone traduzioni. Délia buona rinscila délia Società fan fede i nom!
autorevolissimidi coloroche la compongono, e cioè: Benedetto Croce, Cesare
de LoUis, Paolo Savj-Lopez, A. FarinoUi, (;. Alanacorda.
Le contraffazioni délie opère d'arle costituiscono nna indnstria moUo pros-
perosa anche in Italia e ogni centro artistico ha la sua specialitk. I fores-
tier! vedono, credono c comprano, ricorrendo a mille artifizi per trafugare
capolavori che nessuno si sogna di trattenere. A Napoii una volta— racconta
il Palmariiii nel Marzocc.o — la direzione degli «cavi di Pompei venue a
sapere che un antiquario, insieme con forestieri misteriosi, doveva in nn
certo giorno operare uno scavo in un piuito della campagna ercolanense ; cd
eccG, quindi, clie, mentre la piccola brigala trac dalle viscère della terra
tesori d'arle, piomba su di essa un ispelloi'e del Museo con quatlro gnai'die
travestile. Tulti in quoslura ; e Fanliquario ebbe il suo da fare per convin-
cere i compelenti che si tratlava d'uno scavo... a colpo siciiro'. A Firen/e
certi disceudenti di anliche nobilissime famiglie, che si son divoralo il palri-
monio al Irenla e quaranla, ospitano falsi rilratti di antichi cavalieri, sanli',
arazzi, qualche tondo dei Della Robbia, che diventano « coUezione privala
di una nobile anlica famiglia », e prendono il venli o il trenta per cento
snlle vendite. Qualche volta capilano dei casi veramenU; ameni. Una voila
fu presentato a un ufïicio d'esportazione un rilrallo d'iioiiîo, altribuito ad
1. Cioè preparato precedentemente.
[3231 FAUTE ITAMANA 51
artista del Cinquecento e vendiUo per ben quarantamila lire GTispeltori lo
dichiarano falso e ritiutano di liceiiziarlo per antico : Qia allora il venditore
poiie questo dilenima : — 0 Tuflicio lo licenzia conie lo dichiaro io, antico e
aulenlico, o mi rilasci una dichiarazione di falsilï, in seguilo alla quale mi
riserbo di citare per danni il Governo, dimostrando l'autenlicita del dipinto.
L'unicio, per prudenza, dovè dichiarai-e il quadro antentico e antico. . .
Il commercio fra l'Italia e la Francia
al confronto con l'esercizio précédente.
Gli scambi commerciali tra l'Italia e la Francia durante i primi 10 mesi
del 1907 sono saliti a franciii 351. 384. 000, di cui fr. 153.16i.000 di merciita-
liane e fr. 198.220.000 di merci francesi e di origine extra-europea.
C.onfrontati qiiesti risultati con quelli del 1906, si ha una maggiore cntrata
in Francia di merci italiane per fr. 3.126.000 ed nna maggiore entrata in
Italia tra merci irancesi e di origine extra-europea di IV. 4.004-.O00.
Le merci italiane in aumento all'entrala in Francia durante i 10 primi
tnesi del 1907 sono: la canapa per 2.9.i9.0()0; le nova per fr. 1.351.000; il
minérale di zinco per fr. 1.1 tj. 000; i formaggi per fr. 946.000 ; il burro per
fr. 693.000, poi per cifre minori : le lane, crini e peli ; le frutta da tavola; la
pagiia di miglio di scope ; il riso ; le macchine ed i meccanismi; le piume da
ornamento ; le terre cotte ; vasellami e cristalli ; la crusca ed il foragi^io ; il
pollame ed i piccioni vivi ; le automobili ; la salumeria ; il poUame e piccioni
morti ; i marmi ; i mobili ; i lavori in legno ; i marroni e castagne ; il legno
da ebanisti ; il minérale di piombo ; i pesci ; le treccie di pagiia, di scorza
])er capelli ; le spugne.
Le merci italiane in diminuzione all'entrata in Francia durante i 10 primi
mesi del 1907 sono : la seta e borra di seta per fr. 2.547.000; l'olio d'oliva
per fr. 2.237.000; lo zolfo per fr. 2088.000; i legumi secchi e loro farine
per fr.738.000 ; e poi per cifre minori : i generi medicmali; le pelli crude
anche da pellicceria ; il sommacco ' ; il legno comune ; le pelli o pelliccerie
lavorale; i prodotti chimici ; i tessuti di seta e di borra di seta; i vini, gli
oggetti da collezione ; le bestie da soma^, la carta, carton!, libri ed inci-
sioni ; i capelli di pagiia ; gli oli volatili od essenze ; le piètre e terre per arli e
mestieri ; il cotone in bioccoli ; gli aslaci ^ ed aragoste.
Le merci francesi in aumento alTenlrata in Italia durante i 10 primi mesi
del 1907 sono : i prodotti chimici per fr. 2.9.ï9.000; i tessuti di seta in pacchi
postali per fr. 2.862.000; le macchine ed i meccanismi per fr. 2,'i09.000 ; i
vini per fr. 1.864.000 ; la ghisa, il ferro e l'acciaio per fr. 706.000 ; e per cifre
minori : i tessuti di seta e di borra di seta ; il rame ; il vasellame, vetri e cris-
talli ; i bastimenti in legno, ferro ed acciaio ; il baccalà ed altri pesci ; il
carbon fossile e coke ; Tessenza di trementina ; il legno comune ; il semé
di bachi da seta ; i ttlati d'ogni sorta ; le sementi ; gli utensili ed i lavori in
métallo ; le piètre e terre per arti e mestieri.
Le merci francesi in diminuzione allentrata in Italia, durante i dieci primi
mesi del 1907, sono : le automobili per fr. 2. 308.000; le vestimenta e bian-
cheria per fr. 623.000 ; e poi per cifre minori : lorificeria e la bigioUeria d'oro,
d'argento e l'orologeria ; gli strumenti di ottica, di calcolo, ecc. ; il sego e gli
altri grassi animali ; le pelli e pelliccerie conciate ; le bestie da soma ; le vet-
1. cuoio conciato col sommacco. — 2. bestia destinata a portar carichi. — 3. astacus
fluviatilis = gambero.
PARTE ITALIAINA [324]
tare ; la carta : cartoni, libri ed incisioni ; lo zinco in massa, greggio e lami-
nato ; gli articoli di Parigi ; gli stracci ; i tessuti di lana ; gli zuccheri, greggi
e ralfinati ; le cuighie, i tubi in caoutchouc e guttaperca, i tessuti di cotone.
Le merci extra-europee in aumento aU'entrata in Italia durante i 10 primi
mes! del 1907 sono : le sete greggie e la borra di scta per franchi 1.435.000 ; il
caoutchouc e la guttaperca per fr. 762.000; il cotone in bioccoli per
fr. G06.000.
Le merci extra-europee in diminuzione alla entrata in Italia durante i 10
primi mesi del 1907 sono : le lane e cascami di lana per franchi 4.723.000;
le pelli crude da pellicceria ed altre greggie per fr. t. 483. 000 ; peli d'ogni
.sorta per fr. 198.000.
Gapo d'anno.
(Goro di voci sparse.)
L'n GIOVANETTO.
Benvenulo, millenovecentotto ! Per noi ogni nuovo anno (' un amico, cho
ci porta una bracciata di doni e di speranze doro. Tu m'allungherai i bafli
m'aggiungerai due dita di statura c mi libérerai dal greco e dal latino. Scrivi
il tuo testamento, o veccliio anno ; preparatevi alloperao al trionfo, o giovani
e tu, anno nuovo, passa rapido come una meteora sopra 1' onda giovanile che
freme 0 urta gli argini, .smaniosa d'irrompere sulla terra promessa.
U» SIGNORE OUAKANTENNE.
Sii il mal venuto, anno nuovo, nel quale compirô i (luarant'anni. Quaranta I
Che brutto suono ! Ha delto bene uno scrittore arguto. Venti ! Sentite che
parola armoniosa, snella, gentile. Trenla, con quelferre che stride e con
quell'a che spalanca la bocca, ha già un suono meno gradevole. Ma quaranta
non è piîi un suono, è un rumore; non vi pare il fracasso villano d'una
imposta di finestra che vi sia sbattuta sul viso? Si, qucslo è il grande pas-
saggio, il salto dalla biiona età alTetà ingrata, la fine légale délia gioventù,
l'enlrata solenne in quel ]>eriodo délia vita, in cui divcntaridicolo il commo-
versi a un dramma in teatro e fare una piroetla in uno slancio di gioia.
Un piccolo imimegato,
il primo deU'anno. Festa civile. Perché ? lo ])asso daU'anno vcccliio all'annd
nuovo con la stessa indilï'erenza che da un lastrone all'allro del mai-citipiedi.
So bene che l'anno che vienne sarà stupido e noioso come quello che se ne
va ; che mi Icverô ogni maltina all'ora solita per venire per la solita slrada a
lare ail' ullicio lo stesso lavoro, barattando ' coi coUeghi le stesse parole ; che
il ventisette d'ogni mese andrô a riscuotere quel medesimo stipendio dispe-
rato, senza un centesimo di piii, forse con qualcuno di meno ; e che per arri-
varc al ventisette dovrô sempre stiracchiare i conti ad un modo, e impormi
le stesse moitificazioni degli anni passati. Per me gli anni sono tutte copie
idenliche d'un solo originale: che misero originale! lo non sono altro che
im calendario ambulante che ogni sera mi strappo di dosso da me stesso la
data del giorno coj'rente, con la sola differenza dai calendari di carta, che
invece di cambiar piatto ogni giorno-, ho lo stesso piatto quasi tuttoTanno.
1. scambiando. — 2. spcsso i calendari portano giornalmente la ricetta o il nome
d'un piatto [mets).
[325] PARTE ITALUNA o3
Se ogni anno non fosse un passo avanli verso queirosso di pensions, vorrei
che la mia vita fosse an anno di diciotto mila giorni, per risparmiarmi almeno
la noia di scrivere una data nuova nelle minute '^. 0 anno nuovo, ti sciolgano
altri degr iniii ; io ti ricevo con una scrollata di spalle e ti saluto con uno
sbadiglio.
Una MADRE.
0 figliuol mio lontano, unico amor mio, è questo, dopo che vivi, il primo
annoch' io incomincio senza di te. Da vent'anni, in qiiesto giorno, io ti sve-
gliavo la matlina con un bacio, {»erchè il buon augurio di tua madré ti suo-
nasse nel cuore uvanti ogni altro, e il tuo primo : — Buon anno ! — fosse
per me. Eanchequesta mattina, corne per il passato, entrai nella tua caméra
e deposi sul capezzale abbandonato la dolce parola a cui non puo piii rispon-
dere che la tua penna. Corne passerai, figliuol mio, questo giorno, che tras-
correvamo insieme, vicino al fuoco, cosi uniti e cosi sereni ? Chi ti farà il
primo augurio? Festeggerai il nuovo anno in mezzo a nuovi amici, ad altri
giovani senza madré e senza casa, cercando forse di compensarti in un'alle-
gria rumorosa délia dolcezza quieta che godevi al mio fianco. 0 tigliuol mio
anche in mezzo agli amici, volgi il pensiero a tua madré lontanae triste, che
tende le braccia verso di te, che darebbe la luce degli occhi per riaverti, che
consentirebbe, per poterti raggiungere, a rigar di stille di sangue tntta la
terra che ci divide !
Un emigrante.
Ho intesogridare a prua: — Mille novecento e otto ! Vuol dire che èsuonata
mezzanotte e che siamo entrati nell'anno nuovo. 11 mare è tranquillo, il
cielo pieno di stelle, e soffia un'aria tepida. E il cuore dell'inverno, e siamo
in primavera. Chi ne capisce qualchecosa? Si naviga frai tropici, dicono.
Quanto è gik lontano il mio paese! Chim'avrebbe detto un anno fa che avrei
passato questo primo delFanno fra cielo e acqua, solo, in mezzo a tanta gente
che non ho mai vista, in viaggio per l'America ? Che paese c quello che
m'aspetta ? Quale sarà la mia sorte ? Io non so nulla. So soltanto che vado
in un altro mondo con trenla lire in tasca a olirire le mie braccia o la mia
schiena, secondo i casi. Sento i signori délia prima classe che vociano e coz-
zano i bicchieri. Eh, loro son contenti, chesanno dove vanno, sicuri de! fatto
proprio. Quando potrô far venire con me la mia famiglia? Che cosa faranno
a quest'ora? Mia moglie veglierk ancora, pensando a me, forse. Gigi e Maria
dormiranno abbracciati, come sempre, povere créature. Quando li rivedro?
E se non li dovessi più rivedere? Ah, che povera cosaè un uomo che attra-
versa il mare per cercar del pane ! Gom'è tranquillo il mare ! Senti come gri-
dano : — Buon anno ! Buon anno ! — Ebbene, sento un non so che... 0 Nando,
tare s ti la sciocchezza di piangere? Andiamo, il nuovo anno sarà buono,
coraggio !
Edmondo De Amicis.
3. brutta copia.
L'Avaro*.
« Oh povero me, diceva un avare al siio vicino, m'han rubato stanotte
il tesoro che avevo nascosto sotterra nel mio giardino, e al suo posto han
messo un maledettissimo sasso. »
« Tanto, gli rispose il vicino, tu non te ne saresti servito. fmmagina
* Vedi le altre quattro parti.
54 PARTE ITALIANA [326]
dunque che quel sasso sia il tiio tesoro,e non sarai più povero di prima. »
« Ancliese io non fossi più povero, replicij l'avaro, v'è pero ano che
é allrettanto più ricco. Altrettanto più ricco ! G'é da morir di rabbia ! »
Lessing.
Bravi Figliuoli.
Scena : Un giardino.
LiSETTA, N1NO5 IL PADRE
LisETTA e Nlno colla cartella sotlo il braccio vanno a scuola.
NiNO. — Eh, non correre tanto, altrimenti arriveremo a scuola che il
cancello è ancorcbiuso.
LiSETTA. — È vero : ci siam spicciati per tempo stamane.
NiNO. — Ecco, fermiamoci un momento qua in questo bel giardino.
Ci si sta a meraviglia.
LisETTA. — Si 5 che belle pian te, che beU'ombra. [Siseggonosu un banco).
NiNo. — Eh. fosse nostro ? corne giuocheremmo bene a rincorrerci, a
rimpiattino^, a gatta cieca- !
LisKTTA. — Che ti viene in testa? avère un giardino cosi? Ma ci pensi i
lo mi contenterei di molto meno : vorrei solo che la mamma non avesse
da crucciarsi tauto per comprarci le vesti e provvedere aile spese di casa
e il babbo non dovesse lavorare tante ore al giorno.
NiNo. — Eh, hairagione ; povera mamma, povero babbo !
LiSETTA. — E dire che son tanto buoni ! La mamma non fa che lavo-
rare tutto il giorno, rammendarc, cucire alla macchina, rassettare la
casa, e il babbo poi, quaiido ha linito le sue ore di scuola, va ancora in
giro lino a sera tardi per dar lezioni private.
JNiNO. — Sicuro, e come è bravo ; a scuola sento sempre dire che pochi
maestri son bravi come il babbo, cosi diligenti, cosi abili a farsi inteii-
dere dagli scolari. Ma già questo non basta, e noi non saremo mai
ricchi .
LiSETTA. — Non devi pensare queste cose. La mamma m'insegija sempre
che non bisogna voler essere ricchi. basta essere in salute e poter lavorare.
NiNO. — Buona mamma nostra. Eppure io vorrei essere ricco per lei,
[Scattando in piedi). ïoh vedi là in queU'aiuola qualcosa che luccica?
LiSETTA. — Dove '? dove ? non vedo.
NiNO. — Ma, là dietro. Ecco (cerca nell'aiuola e ne tira f'uori un orolo-
gio d'oro) oh ! un orologio.
LiSETTA. — E d'oro se non sbaglio.
Nmo. — Ma si, ma si, proprio d'oro.
LiSETTA. — Com'è bello !
NiiNO. — Oh Lisetla, Lisetta che gioia ! Lo porteremo al babbo ; ligurati
come sarà feliçe. È tanlo tempo che desidera un oriuolo.
1. a nascondersi. — 2. 0 a galta cieca cioè a rinconersi cogliocclii bendati.
[327] PARTE ITALIANA
LisETTA. — Sicuro, e qnante volte gli ho sentito dire corne rimane
confiisoe raortificato allorchè qnalche alunno o qualche compagno gli
chiode l'ora ed egli non puù dirla.
NiNO. — Si, è vero. E invece adesso non avrà più quest'umiliazione.
Avrà il sno orologio.
LiSETTA. — E d'oro pergiunta !
NiNO. — Ma SI, ma si. Andiamo presto che sono impaziente di tornar-
mene a casa . {Si avviano.)
LiSETTA. — (Arrestandosi di botta) Senti, Ninetto, mi viene un diibbio.
NiNO. — Quale '?
LiSETTA. — Abbiam noi il diritto di prendere queU'orologio'?
NiNO. — Oh bella l'abbiamo trovato ; non l'abbiam mica rubato.
LiSETTA. — Ma si ha il diritto di ritenere la roba che si trova e che appar-
tiene ad altri ? Pensa, Ninetto, a qiiest'ora, mentre noi ci rallegriamo, c'o
qualciino che si addolora, che cerca e si dispera, e quel qualciino è il
legitlimo proprietario dell'oggetto; l'ha comperato — chi sa'? — forse
lacendo dei sacrifizi, dopo lunghe privazioni...
NiNO. — [Scosso.) Veramente mi ci fai pensare. — Ma il babbo, il babbo
che sarebbe stato tanto contento ?
LiSETTA. — Gerto il babbo Perù senti : credi proprio che il babbo
potrel)be rallegrarsi di un oggetto che non ha il diritto di tenere ? credi
che lo accetlerebbe ?
NiNo. — È vero, è vero. Ma
LiSETTA. — Ninetto mio, non c'è " ma " che tenga. È proprio cosi.
NiNO. — Peccato pero. E che dobbiam fare secondo te ?
LiSETTA. — Oh una cosa semplicissima. Ecco là una gnardia. Noi
andremo da lei e le consegneremo l'orologio, dicendole di averlo trovato
cosî e cosi . —
NiNO. — E andiamoci. (Si avviano. — Mentre si avviano^ il padre
esce fuori di dietro un cespvglio.)
Padbe. — Lisa, Ninetto, tigli miei.
LiSETTA e NiNO. — Oh il babbo!
Padre. — Figli miei, ho sentito tutto. Ero li dietro quel cespugiioe sono
commosso e f'elice. Ho visto dapprima la vostra gioia nel trovare quel
bell'orologio, poi subito avete ponsato al vostro babbo ; ma intanto la
coscienza ha parlato : vi ha detto clie quell' oggetto non vi appartiene e
voi avete ascoltato quella voce. Bravi, bravi.
NiNO. — Ma intanto, papa, tu resti senza orologio.
Padre. — Figli miei, la gioia- che provo nel sapervi onesli vale tutti
gli orologi del monde. E poi — sapete ? — c'era una volta iina patrizia
romana che richiesta da un'amica di mostrare le sue gioie, indice i proprî
figliuoli dicendo esser quelli i siioi tesori più cari. Qiiando qualciino mi
richiederà dell'ora pensero che anch'io posseggo nei miei tigliuoii due
gioielli d'inestimabile valore,enii consolerô delCorologio che mi manca.
AwE .
PARTE ITALIANA [328]
La veste del lutto.
- " lo non la voglio quella lana scura ! ,,
Diceva un fanciiillino alla sorella.
" È tanto brutta che mi fa paura !
" Voglio la bianca ch'è molto più bella ! .,
- " Fratello ! Nostra madré se n'è andata,
" Lontan, lontano !... ,, rispondea la mesta '.
E il fanciullin : " quando sarà tornata,
" Mi vestirai deU'abito da festa ? ,,
- '' Nessuna morta è mai tornata al mondo,,
Quella prornppe con lacrime amare.
Ma disse il fanciullin, tutto giocondo :
" S'Ella non torna, andiamola a trovare ! ,,
Leopoldo Marenco '-.
1. intendi : la mesta fanciulla : mesia dicesi poeticamente per triste. — 2. autore di
apprezzate commedie, morto da poco, e figlio a Carlo Marenco che fu ai suoi tempi
autore di celebri tragédie.
Varietà.
Perché si adopera di più la mano destra ?
E" noto che la quasi generalità degli uomini adopera la mano destra a
preferenza délia sinistra ; ma si puo giurare che sono pochissimi coloro i
(piali conoscono la causa di questo fenomeno che risale airanlicliità più
remola.
Taie causa — secondo lo Speltntore — dipende da ciù : che l'emis-
fero sinistro del corvello che comanda ai nervi di destra, è j)iù ricco di
sangue, dell'emisfero destro, visto che il sangue arterioso sale alla sini-
stra del cervello direttamente dall'aorta, vale a dire quasi direttamente
dal cuore, mentre va all'emisfero destro solamente da una diramazione
venosa.
Il l'enomeno è in ogni modo una meiiomazione dell'energia prodiittiva.
e in certi casi rappresenta una vera iuibizioue al lavoro. Perciù a Londra
si è costituita una associazione il cui scopo è appunto quellodi sviluppare
l'ambidestrità, cioè abituare a servirsi inditferentemente délia mano destra
0 délia mano sinistra ; il che si puô ottenere lacilmeute cou un razionale
esercizio.
L'articolista ricorda che l'iniziativa, senza dubbio utilissima, non è
senza precedenti ; perche a FiladeUia e a Kôiiigsberg giàesistono scuole
apposite dove si insegna a disegnare e a scrivere con la mano sinistra.
L'articolista soggiunge che anche in parecchie scuole d'Italia si insegna
agli aUinni a servirsi délia mano sinistra come délia destra ; e poichè i
fanciulli, per la maggiore elasticità délie loro articolazioni, si avvezzano
piii facil mente ad ogni esercizio, lo scrittore raccomanda che in tutte le
classi elementari sia praticata e insegnata la ambidestrità.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 8. 20 Janvier 1908. 8« Année.
PARTE ITALIANA
Miscellanea.
Il grande avvenimenlo polilico con cui si âpre iii Italia il 1908 è ravvento
del " Ministre délia Guerra borghese ".
Il niiovo Miiiislro délia Guerra borghese h Severino Casana, Senatore, già
Sindaco di Torino, uomo di moUi meriti, di forte e leale carattere. Tuttavia
circa questo awenimento le opinioni sono divise. — V'è infatti chi assicura
che solo il Ministro délia Guerra borghese pnô tutelare gl'interessi clelTesereito
e risolvere tutti i delicati problemi dell'organico e del materiale, perché un
générale è troppo ligio ai rigunrdi di disciplina e di gerarchia, troppo infeu-
dato ' ai colleghi e al capo dello stato maggiore ; mentre altri atfermano clie
solo un uomo clie sia vissuto nell'esercito piiô conoscerne i bisogni, saperne
i mali ed escogitarne^ utilmente i rimedi. Gli avvenimenti diranno chi
abbia ragione.
* *
É su tutte le bocche il nome di Ernesto Teodoro Moneta, l'italinno vincitore
del premio Nobel per la pace.
Il Moneta ha settatitaquattr'anni, e da più di quaranta, infaticabilmentc, su
pei giornali, colle conterenze, nei libri va esercitando il suo apostolato in
lavore délia pace universale. In questo vecchio alacre^ baldo, pieno d'impeti,
d'altruisnîo, di fede, anche coloro che non ne dividonc le idée devono ammi-
rare l'abnegazione, la costanza, Tidealità, viva fiamma che brilla fra tanto
materialisino e tanto egoisnio.
* •
Circola di questi giorni in Venezia, recando le firme più autorevoli (basta
citare Fradeletlo, Etlore Tito, Fortnny, Fragiacomo, Ciardi, Milesi, A. Moro-
sini, il principe Hohenlohe-Waldenburg) una protesta contro Tuso invalso da
poco di lornire di rétine Auer i fanali delTilluminazione nottiu'na. Tutto il
fasciiio cosi spéciale dellc notti veneziane è infalti distrutto da quella luce
bianca e criida, che abolisce non solo Tomltra ma fin la penombra, forza vio-
lentemente la tranquillità délie calli 3, il silenzio raccolto dei canali.
Venfzia coi fdnali Auer, dicc la protesta, non è \i'\i\ Venezia; è Torino, è
Milario, è Berlino ; ma le notti care ai poeti, le notti che innamorarono
Lamartine e De Musset, Byron e Wagner, piene di gorgoglii imprecisi e mi-
steriosi, nelle qiuili le gondole silenti passano siiU'acqua bruna radendo le
fondamenla dei palazzi, sono perdute irreparabilmente.
S. M. il Re d'Italia ha accettato la presidenza onoraria délia Lega italiana
contro il dueilo. Questa lega, che accoglie molti chiari uomini, ha deliberato
1. legati, assoggettati (da feudo, feudale). — dal latjno cogo, pensare, inventare. —
3. vie, strade. — 4. Gabriele d'Annunzio.
[47j ITAL. 8
S8 PAKTK ITALIANA [370]
di presentare al miuisLro guardasigilli un suo voto per la retta applicazione
giiidiziaria dclle leggi penali che tutelano Tonore, ed ha proposto di sotloporre
al congiesso inlernazioriHle di Budapest la qiiestione deU'astensione dei medici
dallassistenza ai duelli ed il divieto délia publicazione dei verbali dei duelli
slessi,
*
* *
Un collaboratore dei Giornale d'Itnlia ha intervistato Massimo Gorki il
quale si trova a Ronia. Dopo averlo interrogato intorno aile sue opinioni
circa gli avvenimenli di Uussia e circa la letteratnra russa atluale, il gior-
nalisla voile sapere ciôche Gorki pensi délia letteratnra italiana. Comineiando
dagii scrittori viventi Gorki si è dimoslrato fervido ammiratore dei poeta
délie Laudi. Egli conoscehenissimo il concettoegli intendimenti àeWccNaoe' :
« — È un opéra veramente colossale — egli ha detto — è qualche cosa di
veramenle grande, che esce dall'ordinario. lo, inoltre, ammiro Tintendiniento
di esaltare la patria e la razza. L'artista non puo dimenticare di consacrarsi
a qualche grande idea. L'arte dev'essere avvivata da aiti concetti. Il vostro
formidaldle poeta Dante, non solo è un poeta formale, ma colui che seppe
concepire un'altissinia immagine, che domina il mondo.
— Dei nosiri autori quale preferile ed an)niirate con maggior entusiasmo ?
chiese ancora il giornalista.
<i — È dilficile siahilirlo, tanto è varia la loro attitudine e la bellezza delle
loro opère, che non potrei dire subito quale pretVrisco. Tuttavia amo moltis-
simo il r»e Amicis e, fra gli anti(thi, il Tasso e PAriosto. Sono anche tVrvido
ammiratore dei Petrarca. Vi fu un tempoincui auiai moltissimo il Leopardi,
forse perché rispondeva a speciali condizioni dellaninio mio.
— E in voi l'Italia non ha svegliato ancora una vivace ispirazione ?
t — Si. Scrivero un libro sull Itali;), non appena la conoscero perfefla-
mente. »
5. l'ultimo dramma di d'Annunzio.
Sulle scène.
OHndo Guerrini — e per dirla coi suo nome Hi baltaglia, Lorenzo Stecchetti — pub-
biica di questi giorni.pei tipi dell'eiiitore ZanicbelM, un volume autobiograûco intito-
lato Bruni di vila, dove dietro il poota di Postuma caro aha gioventîi, si rivela il
severo studioso e l'ecceilente uomo privato. Ne togliamo questo grazioso capitolo :
Se me lo dicessero, non lo crederei ; ma fui filodrammatico ed attore e
non posso negare la verità. Furouo pochi minuti, fu incoscienza di bambine,
fu tutto quel che vorrcte, ma il fatto è che lui filodrammatico anch'io !
La sioria è antichissima e, se non temessi di usare una frase nuova, dirci
che risale e sinasconde nella notte deitempi.
Dovete dunque sapere che in un anno dei secolo scorso (la precisione è
inutile), regnando Pio IX. io studiavo la grammalica latina in un Collegio
diretto da preti. Avevo circa nove anni ed ero magro corne un figlio dcl conte
Ugolino.
Una mattiua i nostri professori ci dissero che era instituito un corso di
ginnastica e di ballo e fummo présentât! al professore.
Era un veneto bassotto e biondo ; uno di quei veneti che girano ancora pei
cafTè imitando colla voce tutti gli animali delTarca e mangiando con molto
appetito la stoppa accesa. Il corso comincio subito. La ginnastica consisteva
nel rovesciare le leggi délia estetica umana, stando col capo sopra un sac-
cone e le gambe per aria e il ballo era una série lunga e variata di pose
plastiche e di riverenze eleganti.
[371
PAKTE 1TALIA^A
59
Venue il carnovale. r.li alunni recitarono certe commedie, qiiando il niiovo
professore, che in qnalclie periodo niisterioso délia sua esislenza doveva
esserc stato « tramai^nino » *, voile aggiungere allô spcttacolo un ballo di sua
invenzione.
Ne ho una memoria confusa, ma il « clou » stava in questo, che il maestro
cercava un lesoro, e un iJolo, oercotendo un campanello, ylielo in-iicava.
La scena erain China e l'idoio ero io.
E' legge teatralc e filodrammatlca che i chinesi si distinguano dal reslo
délia umanità pei lunghi baRl piovenli e il cap|>ello a paralimie. Cosi fui
'I truccato » 2 io e messo a sedere colle gambe inciociaLe solto nn tempiello
portatile, délia stessa architettura del cappcllo. Avevo nella sinistra un cam-
1. nome del gergo teatrale che si dà ai figurant! dei Lalli. — -2. canuiffato, costu-
ma to.
60 PAHTE ITALIANA [3721
panello da orologio c nella désira un marlellino metallico che tiniva — lo
vedo ancora — con una piccola pallottola poco più grande di un fagiolo.
S'intende che alla mia etk, poro pratico di « battute »; mi regolavo coi
cenni che mi faceva don Gamberini dalle quinte ; quel don Gamberini, Dio
glielo perdoni, che ini insegnô a far versi !
La sera dello spetlacolo fui dunque portalo in palcoscenico. 11 maestro
cercava aft'annosamente il tesoro e, quando fu presse ad un pozzo di cartone,
don Gamberini alzando al cielo due sterminate braccia, mi dette il segnale.
Picchiai sul campanello usando la pallottola corne mi pareva più logico, ma
il SMono era debole. Don Gamberini diceva « più forte » ed io, con uno di
quei lampi di genio che illuminano le menti privilegiate, rivoltai il martello
6 cominciai a picchiare dalla parte del manico. Il maestro scese nel pozzo di
cartone per trovare il tesoro e don Gamberini mi disse « basta ».
Ma io ci avevo trovato gusto e picchiai cosî bene che il campanello di
acciaio si ruppe corne il vetro e l'idolo chinese restôprivo délie insegne délia
sua professione.
La conclusione di tutto questo fu che mi punirono colla privazione délia
cena e l'infelice « debutto » mi disamoro dal teatro.
Non ho mai più calcato le tavole del palcoscenico e Tarte tilodrammatica
fece cosi una perdita in-eparabile !
Olumio Guerrixi.
Roma e Bjdrnstjerne Bjbrson.
Molti dispacci ed indirizzi di congratulazione furono inviati dalla Norve-
gia, dai paesi scandinavi e da altre parti d'Kuropa a Bjornstjerne Rjorson,
il vigoroso poeta e romanziere norvegese, che in questa Roma, ormai sua
seconda patria, ha compiuto il 75° anno.
Come Henrik Ibsen, anche BJôrson è un innamorato dell'ltalia e di Roma.
In una poesia scrilta prima del 1870, Bjorson cantava:
Viene la sera, rosseggia il sole — raggi colorati spaiidoiio nelTorizzonte— fasci di
luce, infliiitamente piena di languore ; — la collina iiitorno si rischiara come un viso
nella niorle.
Le cupole rosseggiano di fuoco meiitre loiitano — un vélo grigio di nebbia sale
lentamente — dai campi come l'oblio : — il vélo d'un lungo passato copre questa \alle.
U sera, calda e rosseggiante ! — brillante d'una vita di popolo — impetuosa come
musica di trombe, — piena di flori e di sguardi bruni. — 1 busti dei gloriosi, nel
marmo scolpiti — stanno e vigilano.
Suonano i Vespri e cala la sera. Il poêla sente le campane, che diffondono
un lento e confuso suono. E continua :
Sui colli Sabini s'allaccia la cinta di fuoco, — s accendono per la campagna i lumi
dei pastori, — alla oui floca luce si disegna — il contorno di Roma, come nelle stori-
clie leggende.
Per l'aria bruna — risuona un saltarello ' - canti di galli, risa e giuochi a morra '^ ;
— [ pensieri anelano la pace, in uirarnionia — di suoni e di colori.
La notte si avanza, ancora, le ténèbre scendono sulla cittk : passa un
mortorio : mentre altrove si danza al suono del mandolino ed echeggia il
passo cadenzato délie pattuglie.
Nel martellare di questa vita — nasce lalba del pensiero che diventerà luce di giorno.
1. ballo dei contadini délia Campagna romana. — 2. giuoco molto in uso fra il popo-
lino italiano : i due contendenti gridano un numéro e in pari tempo avanzano le dita
d'una mano: si vince quando la somma délie ciita a\anzate corrisponde al numéro
gridato.
[373J
PARTE ITALIANA
6i
Il cielo senipre più silenzioso e cilestrino — veglia ed aspetta ; sotto — un passato
che sogna ed un fiituro che speni, — incerte luci vacillanti nel grigio. — Corne
esse s'accendono nella nolte, cosi Uoma — s'accenderà di luce per il regno d'itaha :
— suoneranno le campone, tuoneranno i cannoni, — i ricordi fiammeggieranno
nellazzinro del futuro.
Il grillo e le formiche *.
Sotto l'ombra d'una fragola
Che distende le sue foglie,
Denso un popol si raccogiie
Di formiche a lavorar ' .
Fuor dal buco una molecola
Porta ognuna, e al fondo torna.
Sta un grillelto, alte le corna,
Muto, immobile a guardar.
E dinanzi a queli'assidua
E per lui strana falica.
Pensa : — Forse una formica
È più nobile di me.
Nera è anch'essa, ma più piccola,
Ed i canti, i salti ignora ;
Tutto il giorno se lavora,
A^ rà certo il suo perche. —
Poi, superbo, piega i tendini,
Piomba in mezzo a l'operaie,
E strillando note gaie,
S'ofTre l'opéra a compir.
Ma co' piè le glèbe- rotola,
Fiori e margini scompiglia,
* IJuesta poesia è tolta dal bel volume
di Rosa Errera « Come gente che pensa
suo cammino >> di cui si i^arlerà in un
prossimo Supplément. — i. Costruisci :
un denso popolo di formiche si racco-
giie a lavorare. — 2. le zoUe di terra.
Atterri ta la famiglia
Corre, gira per fuggir.
A queir ansia il grillo attonito
Grida : — A che tanto spavento ?
10 vo' farvi in un momento
Quel che voi fate in un di.
Ma tranquilla in mezzo ai ruderi
Délia povera officina
Yiene al grillo la regina,
Favellandogli cosi :
« — Sei venuto per soccorrerci,
Caro amico, è manifeste :
INIa un soccorso non richiesto :
Pernicioso ^ sempre f u ;
Perche è inetto ed è nocevole
Chi va fuor del suo mestiere :
Mi vorresti un po'vedere
k saltar come lai tu?
ïu sei nato per la musica.
ïu sei nato perla danza ;
11 silenzio e la costanza
A noi altre il cielo dà.
Più caparbio che magnanimo
M'hai distrutto una provincia ;
Il lavor già ricomincia. . .
Grillo, scusa, fatti in là. — »
Riccardo Pitteri.
— 3. dannoso.
L'Imperatore Francesco Giuseppe*.
MiA CARISSIMA^ OTTIMA YiTTORIA,
ti confesso che mi piace molto il giovane Imperatore ; nei
suoi caldi occhi azzurri v'é molta assennatezza e coraggio, ne vi manca
un'amabile allegria quando se ne presenti l'occasione. — Di persona egli
* Lettera del Re del Belgio (Leopoldo V
Vedi le altre quattro parti.
a sua nipote la Regina Vittoria (1853). —
62 PARTE ITALIAMA [374]
c slanciato e pieno di grazia, ma anche nella mêlée dei ballerini e degli
Arciduchi, tutti in uniforme, egli si fa sempre riconoscere corne « il
Capo ».
Questo mi colp'i piîi di tutto, poichè anche a Yienna il ballo è qiiella
viêlée générale che rende tanto difficile il vnlzer. — 1 suoi modi sono
irreprensibili, lontani dalla tronliezza corne dalla timidità, semplici,
e, quando è ben disposto come fu meco pieni di cordialità e di spon-
taneilâ.
Egli sa far stare ognuno al suo posto senza assiimere per questo un
aspetto « ouiré » di autorità, sernplicemente perché egli è sire', e vi c in
lui quel non so che conferisce lautorita, e che talvolta non riescono a far
accettare ne ad esercitare coloro che pure hanno l'autorUà.
Credo che egli sia capace di severità « si l'occasion se présente »; egli
ha l'aspetto moltoenergico. Talvolta ci trovammo circondali da gente di
ogniceto-, egli era palesemente in lor bail a, ma non gli vidi mai mutare
tisionomia per esprimere sia piacere sia timoré.
« DdAVEpistolario délia Regina YmoRiA».
1. Signore (litolo clie si dh al Monarca). — 2. di ogni classe sociale.
I tre desideri di Margherita.
(Raccointo.)
Sola nella pineta ove si recava per liinghi ; nella vasta cuciiia nera di
fumo ove passava le lunghe ore lavorando o dondolando la culla del
fratellino ; fuori nci campi, sotto il soUeone o di notte in un dornii-
veglia pieno di sogni, sempre i tre desideri risorgevano nellantmo délia
fanciulla, tre desideri ben defmiti, ben precisi.
Yeramente uiia volta essi non erano che due : divenir bella ed avère un
abito i)ianco come quello che aveva visto indosso alla figliola del signor
sindaco. Ma dacchè la lamiglia del proprietario era veniita in villeggia-
tura, Margherita aveva desiderato un' altra cosa, l'amicizia, la benevo-
lenza, almeno, di Celina la bionda figliola dei padroni.
Erano tre desideri irrealizzabili e Margherita lo comprcndeva bene,
pure se li accarezzava, se li teneva cai-i, non sapeva staccarsene.
La veste bianca, ella, figliola di contadini, non l'avrebbe avuta mai,
neppur se i funghi ch'ella raccoglieva le l'ossero stati pagati a peso d'oro.
Che cosa avrebbe detto la gente ?. . . Non trovavano già a ridire perché a
scuola aveva voluto percorrere tutte le classi, edera meno ignorante délie
sue compagne? — Sperare poi di diventar bella era sernplicemente una
assurdità. Come lo avrebbe potuto con quel viso ?. . . Più di una volta
non fidandosi dell'unico specchio verdastro che era nella caméra dolla
sua mamina si era recata sulla riva del piccolo torrente e si era protesa
su quell'acqua limpida specchiandosi. Ma sempre se n'era ritratta con
un amaro sconforto nel cuore.
Margherita |)e' suoi undici anni, era alla e forte ma aveva gli occhi
piccini neri ecupi, i capelli corti ed indocili come quelli di un monello
e la carnazione bruna riarsa dal sole. In quanto al divcntare una corn-
pagna, un'amica per la signorina, non c'era neppur da pensarvi. La
[375] PARTE ITALIANA 63
prima volta che, per caso, le due faiiciiille si erano incoiitrate in un
vioUolo, la contadinella si era fermata sui due piedi stupita. Dio, conie
era l)ella la padroncina !
Era piccola ed esile, ma aveva i capelli biondi raccolti in iina lunga
treccia che le cadeva sulle spalle, aveva un visino roseo e bianco e due
grandi occhi color de' tiordalisi. Camminava séria e impettita, seguita
dalla caineriera ed era bellissima cosi nel vaporoso abito di vélo.
Subito Margherita l'aveva salutata colla sua voce un po' rude e col suc
buon soi'riso.
— Buon giorno, signorina, e buona passeggiata.
L'altra aveva alzato il capo con aria sdegnosa, l'aveva avvolta in un'oc-
chiata di pietà e aveva proseguito la sua strada dritta e liera corne una
minuscola regina.
Un giorno la signorina aveva smarrito nella pineta un piccolo meda-
glione, e Margherita aveva avuto la fortuna di ritrovarlo. Voile portarlo
subito ella stessa alla villa dei padroni. Vi trov«j Celina tutta in lagrime,
quel cerchietto d'oro racchiudeva il ritratto délia suanonna e Celina non
sapeva darsi pace di averlo smarrito. Margherita fu cosi commossa da quel
pianto, che poco manco non scoppiasse ella stessa in singhiozzi e fu con
voce tretnante che mormoro :
— Signorina, ho trovato il medaglione nella pineta, eccolo non pianga
più.
La padroncina scostù le mani dal viso lagrimoso, afferrô ilgioiello che le
veniva presentato, non guardô la fanciulla, ma disse solamente :
— Dio, come hai le mani sporche !
Non erano sporche; erano ruvide, erano callose, erano brune di quella
tinta che non puô imbiancare ne sapone, ne ranno ', di quella tinta spé-
ciale délie mani operose che lavoran la terra. Cosi ella avrebbe voluto
rispondere, ma senti un nodo alla gola e scappô via presto per non pian-
ger davvero.
Sulla soglia fu raggiunta da una domestica.
— Margherita la mancia, non vuoi la mancia ?
Margherita ritiro in l'retta la mano, divenne rossa e mormoro :
— Non son venuta per questo, grazie, non voglionulla.
Quel giorno fu triste triste e la ninnananna canlaia al fratellino, fu più
strascicata, più monotona del solito.
Un' altra volta Celina era stata sorpresa in aperta campagna da un
furioso acquazzone ; Margherita che ritornava dai campi ove aveva por-
tato la colazioneal babbo e ai fratelli, appena intravvide in quel turbinio
di vento e di acqua, il noto abito azzurro délia padroncina, corse a
perditiato - per raggiungerla.
— 0 signorina, p'-enda prenda — e levatosi l'ampioe lindo grembiuledi
piccola massaia, lo porse alla fanciulletta raccomandando :
— Se lo metta in testa, si copra cosi.
Ma Celina, anche malgrado iconsigli délia donna che l'accompagnava,
noti voile assolutamente saperne, la respinse con stizza, protestando che
preleriva bagnarsi che coprirsi la testa con quello straccio.
Due ore dopo era tornato il sereno e Margherita vide ancora la padron-
cina in compagnia di un'altra fanciulla, non bella ma assai ben vestita.
Passeggiavano tenendosi abbracciate, sorridendosi, guardandosi cou
1. lisciva, lessive. — 2. tanto rla pcrdere il f;ato.
64 PARTE ITALIANA [376]
affetto. Che cosa non avrebbe ella dato per essere al posto di qnella fan-
ciulletta?...Essere arnica diqnella bella e sdegnosa bimba bionda, essere
guardata con siinpatia dai quel grandi occhi color de' liordalisi, doveva
essere una grande félicita.
Una mattina la ma m ma di Celina, che aveva compreso corne Marghe-
rita fosse cortese e ediicatae che desiderava dare una compagna di gioco
alla sua figliola, invité la fanciulla alla villa. Oh come fu felice Marghe-
rita !. . Avrebbe voluto abbracciare quella bella signora tanlo cortese !
Indossè presto presto il siio abito dei giorni solenni, calzù un paio di
zoccoletti nuovi,si ravviù come meglio potè i capelli indocili e corse alla
villa.
Le batteva forte il cuore, ma era tanto contenta !
Ma ahimè ! Appena Celina vide la compagna che sua madré le aveva
destinata corrugù il bel visino, ebbe un lampo di stizza negli occhi, e con
accento dira repressa disse concitata : — Va via, torna a casa tua ; io sto
benissimo sola, io non gioco colle figlie dei villani.
[Continua.)
Ani;elina Brocca.
Varietà.
Note suiralcoolismo.
Il magistrato Lino Ferriani, ora alla Cassazione di Roma, ha iniziata
una campagna contro l'alcoolismo riferendo una slatistica impressio-
nante dei suo sviluppo in Italia e dei rapport! suoi colla criiniiialità.
Mentre nel 1874 in Italia si consumavano litri 6,5 di alcool per ogni
abitante, nel 1898 la cifra sali a litri 10,23 ; inoltre per ogni abitante la
statistica dei 1899 dava una consumazione di litri 91. A queste cifre
corrisposero nel 189'i ben 627 casi di morte per alcoolismo acuto ed una
criminalilàdi 7 sopra 100. OUi). Ma più grave ancora è l'eiïetto délia dege-
nerazione causala dall'alcoolismo cosicchè negli anni 190U-904 su cento
padri alcoolizzati si ebbero trenta ligli criminali manilestatisi tali fra i
10 e i "2U anni. Risultù pure che nei periodi di malattie infettive, sopra 10
alcoolizzati ne muoiono 9 mentre su 10 astinenti ne muoiono appena 2.
]Negli Stati Uniti d'America l'alcoolismo ebl)e effetti giganteschi : uccise
300.000 persone : invi6 a case di sainte 100 000 fanciulli : mandù in car-
céral 50.000 persoue, di cui :2s,0OO minorcnni ; fecc commettcre 1500
assassini ; détermina 2000 suicidi : rese vedove 200. OOO donne. Queste
cifre spiegano il riliorire délia letteratura antialcoolista per debellare
questo tiraniio, che è Io spegnitoio deU'intelligeiiza e l'accenditore délia
criminalità '. Galtier diceva che il bicchierino quolidiano dei mattino
è la moneta di sottoscrizione per l'Ospedale. La più efticace délie
propagande antialcool iste fu dal Ferriani notata in una scuola di Berna
ove ligurano a grossi caratteri rossi délie massime come qiiesta di Gay
Patin : « Acquavite, acqua di morte ; fa vivere chi la vende e assassina
chi la beve ».
1. che spegne l'intelligenza e accende, alimenta la criminalità.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 9
5 Février 1908.
8° Année.
PARTE ITALIANA
Attualità.
Lo scontro di Lugh.
Un piccolo lalto, ma di (jiielli che hanno una grande eco, perche è
una pagina di quella vita coloniale che appassiona tiitto il paese, perché
ebbe le sue vittime, laggiù in quelle terre quasi equatoriali, cosi lontane
dalla palria.
Lugh trovasi in territorio abissino, soggetto quindi a Menelik ; pero ha
il suo sultnno, e fin dal 1893, al tempo dell'esplorazione del Bolti^go, il
sultano di Lugh riconobbe il protettorato italiano, e aH'ltalia la t'acollà
d'impi.nntare sul suo territorio una stazione, con iscopo commerciale e
scicntiflco, munito di un presidio militare.
Lugh è situato nel Benadir. in Somalia, cioè in quella plaga del con-
tinente africano che, a t'oggia di triangolo. dal fondo del goifo di Aden e
dall'P^quatore, si protende a levante, appuntataal capo Gurdafui. Limitata a
nord dal golfo ora detto, a scirocco dalToceano Indiano, la Somalia è mal
dednita a ponente da una linea che, dal mare andando presso a poco a
mezzodi, lungo il meridiano di Harar fino all'equatore, sépara le popola-
zioni somali dai Galla.
Le cose duravano da dodici anni corne le avevo lasciate il Bôttego,
quand'ecco giungere la notizia che gli abissini hanno attaccato gli ascariita-
liani di Lugh, che ne hanno uccisi molti, e che anche i capitani italiani
Bongiovanni e Molinari, comandanti del presidio, son stati vittime dell'attacco.
Gran fermenlo nel paese, per tema di nuovi e maggiori danni, di nuove
guerre col Negus ; molti chiedono délie giuste rappresaglie verso gli
abissini. — t\la losfo ad acquietare gli animi giunge l.i notizia délie piene
soddisfazioni che Menelik accordera all'Italia.
Per cui rincidente si sarà ridotto a poca cosa ; e aH'ltalia non restera più
che a intrecciar corone votive per quel suoi tigli morti cosi lontano per
l'onore del vessillo ' tricolore e a iscrivere il loro nome nell'albo dei valo-
rosi che han dato la vita per la patria.
Il successo délia « Nave ^^
Un grande avvenimento qiiesto, che per l'importanza sua ha sconfinato
dal mondo artistico e ha appassionato tutti quanti. La « Nave » di Gabriele
d'Annnnzio atlesa da tanto tempo, annunciata da tutti i giornali dell'orbe,
esaltata già da parecchi letterati insigni, la sera delT M Gennaio ha avuto
al Teatro Argemina di Roma, il suo battesirno di gloria.
L'importanza del dramma sla sopratutto in ciô, che esso non è un sem-
plice intreccio di passioni e di fatti, ma mira a esaltare la razza e la storia,
1. bandiera. — 2. Attila.
[35]
ITAL. 9
00
PARTE ITAUANA
[418]
glorificando le origini délia repiibhlica vcneUi e raggnippando lutta lazione
del drainma intoi'no al varo délia prima nave veneziana Totus Mundus.
Ijiogo (Icirazioiir èdiinqiio Vonozia, ma, inicndiamoci, la Vcriozia del VI
socolo, piîi siinile a un villaggio la-
custre doirepoca ddlc iialafitte clie
alla i'iitura cittk di niercauti arinati.
« È appena un secolo — dice Tar-
tarin, esponcndo il dramma — che,
fuggendo davanli al sacco e al fuoco
«del Flagello di Dio'-» gli abitalori di
Aquileia e i coltivatori délia valle del
lîrenta si sono rifugiati nelle isole
deHestuario ^. Essi non sono punto
annientati e attbniti sotto l'urto délia
calamità che li strappo aile loro sedi
antiche e alla lunga catena délia viia
ancestrale '•■ per rovesciarli in una
palude nialfernia fra gli uccelli niarini
c. le alighe putrel'alle ; ma tutta la
piilliihinte ed effervescente vitalità di
una stirpe eroica, agitata dal presen-
timento del suo grande destino, anima
i naiitVaghi, i (piali a un tempo fog-
giano gli utensili elementari del lavoro
e conformano suU'invasalura la chiglia
délia nave conqnistatrice del monde.
« Forse gli slorici frcmcranno di questa sovrapposizione di un sogno
clnicu, comtemporaneo aile ci'ociale, alla mentalilà necessariamente rozza e
limida d'una povera umariinità. appena scampala dall'uragano barbarico; ma
chi osei'à domandar conio al poeta, che raccoglie in un episodio rappresen-
lali\o tiilfi gli elemenli, i principi e le cause dcterminanti d'una grande gesta
nazionale, <li qualche aniicipazione croiiologica ? Gabriele D'Annunzio ha
avulo la \ isione simiiltaiiea délia t'ondazione di Venezia e délia sua spinta
vei-so rOriente, dueeventi separati da seie(>nlo aimi di lenta e oscura prepa-
razione, e li pi'oietta insicnie siilla scena cou aiidacia di prospeltiva, di ciii
sarebbe dil'ficile trovare allri esempii. »
L'azione si svolge nel conflilto di duc faniiglie che enti'ambe aspirano alla
supremazia nella nascenle repubblica, i (Iratici e i Faledro. Vince la prima ;
Marco Gratico eletlo « tribiino del mare » ascende la nave che andrà in oriente
a cei'care le reli(inie di S. Marco, patrono di Venezia, mentre la madré di
ini, la diaconessa Ema \aticina la futura grandezza délia città :
Gabriele d'ANNUNzio.
In ogni porto avrai la reggia tua
Nel mar latino ed oitre le colonne
E per sempre sarai glorifirata
Sopra ogni llutto, entro ogni gorgo,
Ogni vente promette l'iddio nostro.
Ogni alto (Ici dramma (son quattro) è un ejtisodio, e oltre i personaggi
principali délie duc famiglie rival!, ha molti personaggi di sfondo : piloti,
timonieri, catecnmeni, accoliti •% naumachi'', maestranze artigiane, arci(M'i,
prigionieri, danzatri(M, buccinatori ', ciurme.
Il primo alto — il prologo — rappresenta la spiaggia deirisololto dell'e-
stuario veneto, su ciii il popolo costrnisce la sua Basilica; il seconde — primo
episodio — un altro i)unto délia Venezia antichissima, la Fessa Fuia, dove
3. la laguna Veneta. —4. degli avi. — li. chierici. — 6. maruiai. — 7. trumbettieri.
[419 J PARTE 1ÏALIA^'A 67
son ciisloditi i prigionieri : il seconde episodio si svolge neirinterno délia
Basilica ultimata e ricca di splendidi marmi ; esso rappresenta un agape "^
pagana sul tipo di quelle che avevano luogo nella corrotta Bisanzio (iin alti'o
anacronisnio) di Teodora e di Costanlino ; il tcrzo episodio succède luiova-
mentc siilla spiaggia, dove la nave finita attende il momento di prendei-e le
acque, e il dramnia si chiude appunto col varo délia nave.
Sfarzo di scénario, ingegnosità di macchinai-io, splend(jre di costumi, e la
musica assai pregevole che a(;compagna parecchie scène, han contril)uito
non poco al successo clamoroso del dramma — a cui re Vittorio assisteva
dal palco l'cale.
8. banchetto.
I papiri dell'antico Egitto.
Gonferenza del dott.or Grenfell all'Università di Roma.
Oxyrynchos è un villaggio arabo, divenuto importante daccliè, scavando il
suolo, vi si sono trovati numerosi papiri contenenti, intere o frammentai'ie,
opère di autori greci tinora ignorate o perdute.
Anche l'Italia per un po' di tempo ebbe in Oxyrynchos la sua missione
scientifica rappresentata dal dotto professore Gerolamo Vitelli ; ritiratasi di
poi, rimasero sole sul luogo la Francia, la Germania, l'Inghilterra.
Di questi giorni il professore TTrenfell delF Università di Oxford, tenue in
Roma, alla presenza del Re e dcUa Regina Madré, una conferenza, parlando
degli ultimi fortunatissimi scavi, che, Ira l'allro, diedero alla luce parecchie
liriche affatto sconosciute di Pindaro.
I poemi ritrovati di Pindaro sono (juasi tutti dei [teani*; mentre fin adesso, di
Pindaro non si avevano gli Epmicia^, e dei peani non si conoscevano che una
dozzina di versi sparsi. I peani ora ritrovali — in un bel manoscritto degli
inizii del secondo secolo, accompagnato da copiosi scolii marginali^ che ne
garantiscono l'autenticità e ne spiegano i passi difficili — sono cinque e sono
stafi scritti per le città diTebe, di Geo, di Delos, di Abdera e di Delfo.
Questo èil trovamento piii importante. Vengonodopo alcune liriche di SafFo
e Bacchilide, frammcnti di Platone, un brano storico forse di Teopompo, e
una gran parte dclla tragedia di Euripide fin qui sconosciuta — VHysipyle — ,
con argomento che appartiene al ciclo tebano.
Riproduciamo due iniport;uiti brani délia bellissima conferenza del Grenfell
che furono pubblicati dalla Rivista di Roma diretta dal barone Alberto Lum-
broso. 11 primo è un' apologia délia vita semplice, tolto dal peana dedicato a
Geo (traduzione del prof. Hunt) — E' l'isola slessa che parla :
'<In verità io vivo sur una roccia, ma le mie prodezze hanno risuonato
nelle gare délia Grecia e la eco délia mia Musa non è senza faina.
« In verità anche il raio unico ettaro di terreno non dà ogni anno che al
massimo unamisura di quel sugo vivificante che da Bacco ci è arrecato.
«Non ho cavalli, non ho parte neirallevamento del bestiamc. Ma non voile
mai Melampo lasciar la patria sua per seder sul trono di Argo, non voile egli
mai rinunziare al dono glorioso délia divinazione.
« lê lè, ô iè Paian ! (« Sainte, sainte, o Peana »). La città natale, i concitta-
dini, la casa palerna, la famiglia, saranno sempre cari all'uomo che saprà
contentarsene.
« l>ungi dagli insensati, io lodo nella mia félicita le parole di Euxantios
1. inni in onore di Apollo. — 2. inni celebranti unavittoria. — 3. commenti scritti
in margine.
68 PAllTE ITALIANA [^20]
che, meiilre insistevano i suoi coinpagni, rifiulo il trono che gli si offriva e
la sua parle — un settimo di cento città — clie i figli di Pasiphar volevano
dividere con lui.
« E disse loro questa profezia :
« Temo la guerra con Zeus, temo coliii che scuoteil mondo con IVacasso.
« Con le loro folgori c con il tridenle, essi precipitarono, un tempo, in fondo
al Tartaro questa terra e tutti i suoi oserciti ma risparmiarono mia madi'e e
la sua dimorabcn cinla.
« Andrôoi'a io, avido di ricchezze e mettendo da banda, senza uno scrupulo,
quanto hanno deciso intorno a questa contrada gli Dei lieati, a ricercare
altrove un vasto regno ? Comc trovare, cosi, duratura sicurezza?
«Non ti fermarc, o cuore niiu, suUe t'oreste di cipressi, non ti fermare
suirida dalle grasse pasture.
«llmio patrimonio è umile : un semplice boschetto di (luercie, ma le
tribolazioni o l'avversità non mi toccano ».
Cosi chiudevasi poi la conferenza :
«Ai Francesi Oxyrynchos diede testi d'Alemano, diperide c, ieri ancora,
quattro commedie di Menandro, del principe cioè délia commedia nuova.
Ai Tedeschi tesli di Timoleo e di Didimo. Agli Inglesi che sono stati favoriti
dalla soi-te, altri tesli dfpcride, poi di Aristotile, di Pindaro e lutto cio che
si conosce di Eronda e di Bacchilide.
Quale glorioso elenco !
E chi piiù dirci che altro non ci riserbi Tavvenire ?
Poclii i-ami dello scibile sono progrediti in ([uosti ultimi anni, quanto gli
studi greci. Ci si crederebbe tornati ai giorni luminosi in cui un Aurispa. un
Filelfo '% riconducevano dalle ténèbre deU'Oriente i te.sori dimenticali délia
lelteratura ellenica, per geUarli in preda aU'avidità géniale deirilalia tutia
irradiatadall'alba grandiosa délia Rinascita.
In epoca cosi materialista corne la nostra in cui le nostre preoccupazioni ci
allontanano cosi spesso da ogni tentalivo di prodirzione artistica e letleraria,
(juale col[)o di sprone è mai, per le nostre aspirazioni verso l'Idéale, questa
scopertadi tanti capolavori delTArle e délia Letteratura grcca, questa scoperta
che ci riconduce d'un tratlo aile fonti stcsse di ciù che la nostra civiltà di oggi
ha di più spiiituale e di più fine !
Possa esso esserc ancora ben lonlano quel giorno fatale in cui il greco,
sccacciato dalle scuole, cessera di esser compresoin Occidentc,e in cui l'uomo,
in mezzo ai triboli délia vita moderna, non jtotrà i)iù cercare un ritugio in
seno aU'ellenismo, nei poemi di unOmero o di un Pindaro, nelle tragédie di
un Eschilo o di un Sotocle, davanti aile sculture di un Fidia e di un Prassi-
tele, o alTombra sacra del sanluario delflco rcso alla luce dalla Francia e
cantato con le seguenli parole da Pindaro, in uno di quel iVagilissimi fogli di
cui vi parlava poc'anzi che abbiamo avuto la rara foi'tuna di ritrovaree di
pubblicare:
« Per Zeus olim|)i('0, ascolta la mia preghiera, o Pitonessa dorata, oracolo
i-inomato, e voi, (lariti, e tu, Afrodite, ricevetemi ai piedi del voslro ti-ono
sacro, me intei'prete délie Muse armoniose.
« Già che appi'endo che v'ha dimanda di uomini per danzare al suono délia
musica délia fonte Castalia, presso il corso d'accpia dalle porte di bronzo.
Yengo dun(iue in aiuto dei mei amici, per la vostra gloria e per la mia
« Ho seguito il mio cuore, come un bimbo segue la tenera madré, sono
disceso al piccolo bosco d'Apollo, ove, fra le ghirlande e le teste, presso il
centro oscuro délia terra, danzano le vergini di Delfo, cantando le lodi del
figlio di Lato n a •'> ».
DOTT. B, P. Greni'ell.
4. celebri umanisti itaiiani. — ;j. cioè : Apollo.
[421] PARTE ITALIANA 69
Un burbero benefico.
Geronte solo.
Ger. — Piccardo ! Martuccia ! Piero ! Corlese ! ... Ehi ! c'è
iiossiino ? Piccardo !
Enli^i Piccardo.
Pic. — Signore !
Ger. — Briccone ! Non rispondi ?
Pic. — Perdonate, signore : eccomi.
Ger. — Uisgraziato ! Ti ho chiamato dieci volte.
Pic. — Mi rincresce ma. . . .
Ger. — Dieci volte disgraziuto !
Pic. {da se in collera). — Egli è ben rabbioso qualche volta !
Ger. — Hai veduto Dorval ?
Pic. {bruscamente). — SI, signore.
Ger. — Dov'è ?
Pic. — È partito.
Ger. — Corne è partito ?
Pic [bruscamente). — E' partito corne si parte.
Ger. {h minaccia e lo fa dar addietro^). — Ah ! ribaldo ! [in collera
grande) Gosl si risponde al suo padrone ?
Pic. [indielreggiando con aria estreniamente adirata). — Signore, datemi
la inia licenza
Ger. — La tua licenza, sciagurato ! [lo minaccia, e lo fa indietreggiare ;
P[CGARi)0, indielreggiando, cade fra la sedia. e il tavolino. Gekonte corre
in suo soccorso e lo rialza).
Pic. — Ahi ! ( s'appoggin al dorso délia sedia, e moslra niollo dolore).
Ger. (imbarazzato). — Che c'è ? che c'è ?
Pic. — Sono ferito, signore ; m'a vête storpiato.
Ger. [da se, melanconico). — Oh, mi dispiace. [A Piccardo) Puoi tu
camminare ?
Pic. {sempre in collera). — Credo di s'i, signore [si prova e camuiina
maie).
Ger. [I)ruscamenle). — Vattene.
Pic. [mortificalo). — Signore, voi mi discacciate ?
Ger. — No : [vivamenle) va a casa di tua moglie che ti medichi. {Cava
la borsa, e vuol dargli del denaro). Prendi, per farti curare.
Pic. [aparté, intenerito). — Quai padrone !
Ger. (porgendogli del denaro). — Prendi.
Pic. [con modestla). — Eh ! no, signore ; io spero che non sarà nulla.
Ger . — Prendi, ti dico.
Pic. [ricusando per civiltà). — Signore
Ger. [riscaldalo). — Corne ! tu ritiuti il mio danaro ?. . . lo riliuti per
orgoglio, per dispetto o per odio ? Credi tu ch'io Tabbia fatto a bella
posta "? Prendi questo danaro, prendilo. Animo, non mi l'ar arrabbiare.
Pic [prendendo il danaro). — Non v'adirate, signore ; vi ringrazio
délia vostra bontà.
1. retrocedere, itidietreggiare.
70 TARTE ITALIANA [422]
Ger. — Va subito !
Pic. (cammina maie). — Si, signore.
Ger. — Va adagio.
Pic. — Si, signore.
Ger. — Aspetta, aspetta ; prendi la mia canna.
P(G. — Signore
Ger. — Prendila, ti dico ; voglio cosi.
Pic. — {prende la canna, e partendo dice). — Che bontà !
Carlo G0LDON12.
2. dal Burhero Benefico. Atto II, scena 21"
Morte eroica *.
Dobbiamo aU'estrema cortesia delTautore Federico Werner van Oestéren, l'autoriz-
zazione di traduire e di riprodurre questa novella, la quale fa parte del \olume
intitolato « Dit Weg hts Nichts » (Verso il nulla) pubblicatosi di questi giorni pei tipi di
Egon Fleischel e C. ia a Berlino. Questo volume pone il van Oestéren Ira i migliori
novellieri délia Germania. Si legga nciSupph'rnent il resoconto del libre.
I
Contemporaneamente a Michèle Lobicki, ventisette altri giovani, tutti
délia riserva corne lui, lasciavano il villaggio nati'o per recarsi a Czensto-
cbau. Erano stati convocati Vi per esserearruolati e spediti verso l'oriente
lontano e ignoto, per combaltervi inemici délia patria evincerli. Madonna
santa, che folla c'era quel mattino nella piccoUi stazione ! Tutlo il villag-
gio aveva voluto scortare quelli che partivano, che andavano alla guerra
e che sarebbero ritornali coll'aureola dell'eroisino, o non sarebbero ritor-
nati alïatto. E quante lagrime Gesù caro, quante pregbiere balbettate da
tremanti labbra di donna, e che scambio di auguri !
Più che agli altri sembrava pesare il distacco a coloro checircondavano
Michèle Lobicki, un giovanotto bello corne un Adone. V'era la bella
Mania, la liglia del più ricco conladino del villaggio, che s'era avvitic-
chiata al suo diletto fidanzato e non voleva staccarsene ; v'era il padre
di lei, il vecchio Gianni Leschko, il (piale voleva talniente hene all'unica
ligliuola, la sola erede délia sua fortuna, che aveva acconsentito al suo
matrimonio con Michèle, benchè questi fosse orfano e senza manco un
kopek di suo, tanto che viveva délia generosità délia sorella. E v'era anche
costei, Katia Garowicz una donna secca e allampanata' la quale era
sfuggita alla miseria in cui i genitori l'avevano lasciata col Iratello, spo-
sando il vecchio stupido Gaspare ; e v'era fniahnente Gaspare stesso, il
quale anzi, obbedendo ciecamente agli ordini délia moglie, aveva recato
al cognato un bel gruzzolelto di rubli nuovi di zecca.
Più 0 meno,delresto, nelle misure che lo concedevanolecattive annate,
tutti coloro che avevano fra i partenti uno dei loro cari, avevano sacrili-
cato qualcosa dei loro risparmi conquistati con si dura fatica ; e se le
loro lagrime erano provocate dal dolore del distacco e dalla cura pel
benessere dei loro cari, anche il pensiero dei bei pezzi di moneta perduti
senza ritorno c'entrava per qualcosetta. Cionoslante erano orgogliosi,
* Vedi le altrc quattro parti. — 1. magra, scarna.
[423]
PARTE ITALIANA
71
quelli che rimanevano, tutti tutti ; orgogliosi che uno del ioro sangue,
del loi"0 nome, se ne j)ai-tisse per andare a salvar la patria, pei' ritornare,
se Iddio misericordioso lo coiicedeva, eroe acclatnato e lesteggiato da
tutti.
Questa consapevolezza, questa speranza brillava negli occlii di ognuno,
luccicava suUe fronti e sulleguance. Fersino gli sguardi di Mania, la bella
f'anciuila il cui cuore traboccava pure di ansia e di dolore pel distacco,
splendevano attra verso il vélo délie lagriuie che scorrevano incessant!.
— Michèle, o mio diletto, uiiico mio — gemeva ella singhiozzando —
non dimenticarmi, siimi fedele ! Sai? dicono che le giapponesi siano cosl
belline ; lo so proprio di certo. E quando tu sarai un grau signore ed un
eroe célèbre, o mio Michèle, non dimenticarmi ! toriia a me ! io t'aspet-
terù, e giorno e notte penserè solo a te. Te lo giuro per laNostra Signora
di Czenstochau, che io pregherù per te, Michèle mio, tanto tanto !
— 0 Michèle, diceva a sua volta Katia colla sua vocesottile, non dimen-
ticare di ofTrirealla nostra Santa Vergine di Czenstochau un cero che sia
molto pesante. Ti ho dato il denaro. E anzitutto dille — m'intendi ? —
che Katia Garowicz è una donna timorata e una buona cristiana e che
chiede la sua benedizione, capisci ? Non dimenticartcne !
Federico Wehner van Oestéuen.
[Coyitinua.)
Sonno interrotto.
É tardi "1 — Nella notte
Un sibilo lontano,
0 l'orse un grido umano,
L'ali al mio sogno ha rotte.
Io m'alzo. E lisso in vano
L'occhio aile ininterrotte
Ténèbre délia notte !
Tendo l'orecchio in vano !
Del sogno lu un inganno f
Passe un treno nel piano ?
0 u n'anima spire ?
Io penso a quei che vanno
Lontano, assai lontano ....
Io penso a quei che muoiono. . . .
[Non so.
E. A. BuïTi '.
* Chiaro scrittore vivente.
I tre desideri di Margherita.
(CONTIMIAZIOiNE.)
Margherita, dolorosamente meravigliata aveva tentato di dir ([ualcosa,
di placare quello sdegno cosi ingiustiticato, ma Gelina non gliene aveva
lasciato il tempo.
Coi piccoli pugni chiusi si era slanciata verso di lei spingendola fuor
délia porta.
La lanciulla non si era ribellata a quella violenza, solamente gli occhi
neriepiccini sembrarono farsi più cupi nel visino divenuto pallidis-
simo.
Margherita perdonù. Quella piccina bionda era cosi bella anche nella
collera ch'ella non poteva serbarle rancore. Solamente da quel giorno
ebbeciira di niettersi il meno possibile sulla sua strada.
PARTE ITAUANA [4241
Eppure nelle lunslic orc passate ciillando il fratellino, nel dormi-
veglia délia notte, nella solitudine délia pineta,mentre gli uccellini cin-
giiettavaiH), semprc i tre desideri sorgevano ancora, siio malgrado,
ncll'aniino délia lanciulla. Anzi v'erano momenti in oui non le parevano
più cosi irrealizzabili, in oui si sentiva quasi sicnra di riuscire un giorno
ad essere meno brutta,ad avère una veste bianca, e raftetto délia bionda
e sdegnosa bambina.
# *
l^^rano passati due mcsi, si era ormai in autunno ; da dieci giorni
pioveva senza interruzione e il piccolo torrenle era in piena. Se fosse
continuato il cattivo tempo sarebbe certamente straripato.
Un giorno in oui la pioggia era momentaneamente cessata Celina, elu-
dendo la vigilanza dei suoi di casa si era avviata verso il torrente. Voleva
vedere anche lei lospettacolo di quell'acqna niinacciosa che pareva ribol-
lisse,che si precipitavacon rumore sinistro. scliiumeggiando. Possibileclie
il lorrentello quieto dall'acqua chiara ove le fanciulledel paese andavano
alla sera a bagnarsi, si fosse cambiato cosi ?. . . E quanta gente sulla
sponda!... Celina si spinse avanli. Come era bello, corne era impo-
nente ora il piccolo corso d'acqua ! Avanti ancora, voleva veder meglio !
Ad un tratto echeggiù un grido disperato, la fanciuUetta aveva inesso un
piede in fallo ed era precipitata nelle onde torbide e irose.
Dominando lo scompiglio générale Pietro, il boscaiolo. slava impar-
tendo ordini per tentare il salvataggio délia piccoia imprudente, quando
si vide Margherita livida, ma risoluta, farsi largo Ira gli spettatori e
slanciarsi nell'acqua. In un attimo, con due vigorose bracciate clla aveva
raggiunto il posto ove, per la seconda volta emergeva la testa bionda di
Celina. Si levo un grido di ammirazione tosto seguito da un urio di spa-
vento. Margherita era una buona nuotatrice, ma Celina colla forza délia
disperazione, si era avvinghiata alla sua salvatrice, paralizzandoneogni
movimento.
Affogano, alîogano ! . . .
Allora un giovinotto animoso si gettô a sua volta nell'acqua, lotto di-
speratamente contro la correnle impetuosa e finalmente fra le acclama-
zioni délia folla trépidante riusci a tirare a riva le due fanciulle.
Ma gli applausi cedettero presto il posto ad una profonda pietà. Fra il
silenzio solenne dei présent! e il pianto disperato délie due madri accorse
spaventate si constatù con raccapriccio che se Celina era solamente
svenuta, Margherita la buona, la coraggiosa Margherita, era morta.
Tutto il paese rimpianse la coraggiosa fanciulla, tutto il paese, si puù
dire, passé in pietoso pellegrinaggio per la cameretta splendente di ccri
dove era esposta la povera salma. Distesa cosi sul lettino semplice, la
piccoia eroina seml)rava felice. L'avevano vestita di un ricco abito l)ianco
che nascondeva nelle iilte sue pieghe il povero corpo sformato, ed era
nel suo viso, che pareva bellissimo, cosi pallido sotto i bruni, indocili
capelli corti da monello. una singolare espressione di pace, pareva che
le labbra buone sorridessero ancora. A capo dei letto, singhiozzante,
pentita, balbettante mille soavi e dolci cose piene di riconoscenza e di
allotto, di pentimento e di amore, stava Celina, la bimba bionda e
sdegnosa dagli occhi di liordaliso.
Troppo tardi i tre desideri di Margherita erano stati esauditi !
Ansfelina Brocca.
Les Cinq Langues
N" 10.
20 Février 1908.
8° AnDée.
PARTE ITALIANA
Miscellanea.
Torcello — Tisoletta veneziana che fu madré a Venezia, e che in un passato
antichissimo fu fiorente di palazzi e di ville — abbandonata da troppo
Isola di Torcello. — Cannle con veduta del Duomo.
tempo non è più che un glorioso rudere, e anche questo, se non è pronio
il rimedio, destinato a sparire.
Ne parla a lunp;o di questi giorni, nelhi Gazzettadi Venezia, G. A. Le\ i che
a Torcello ha dedicato una gran parte délia sua vita e délia sua t'ortuna.
Due sono i palazzi — secondo egli informa — che sussistono a Torcello :
quelle già del Pretorio, e quello dell'Archivio che il Levi stesso comproe
fecc restaurare e riempire di oggetti trovati nelTEstuario e nei comuni
lagunari. Importanti e bellissime son le due chiese Santa Fosca e il Duomo,
il cui campanile stava per crollare e fu tenuto su in grazia ad ah-uni re-
stauri dovuti essi pure aU'opera infalicabile del dotto archeologo.
V'è un solo mezzo, secondo il Levi, se si vuole che l'isola non rovini inte-
[59] ITAL. 10
74 PARTE 1TAMA^A [466]
ramcntc : qiicllo di agrcggarlci al comune di Vcnezia : « lo chieggo a Venezia
queslo solo — esclama — se ho benc mcrilato di lei : non un lauro, non
nna torcia, non un quattrino, quando si getteranno le mie rencri in mare,
ma che pensi a TorceJlo. »
Tn seguito a un terzo concorso è stalo finalmente scelto il bozzetto del
monnmentoal Petrarca che deve sorgerc in Arezzo. Il bozzetto scelto è qncllo
delloscultore Lazzerini. Cosi lo descrive nella relazione ufficialedel concorso
il poeta Guido Mazzoni :
« Il monnmento dovrà sorgere nella piazza cosi delta del Prato, vicino al
Duomo, e più precisamente nello spazio vicino al palazzo : consta di un'alta
parete figutai-a a basso rilievo il qnale rappresenta i ruderi délia basilica
costantinianaed altri avanzi del Foro Romano, a destra di essa parete sorge
spiccatamente libéra in alto la statua di Francesco Petrarca che ha presse
di se, ma un poco in basso, la lii{)a di Pionia allaitante Romolo e Remo ; a
sinistra un griippo di una donna sqnisitamente modellata, di nna fanciulla
e di nna giovanc vigorosa rappresentano le ispirazioni del Poeta e la figura
maschileche si éleva nobile e possente pare che lanci verso il cielol'apostrofe :
lo vo gridando face, pacc, pace '.
« AÏtrc figure e ornamenti minori completano in questa 'parte frontale il
concetto defPetrarcaumanistaepatriottaitaliano.il gruppo suddettoavvoige
il lato di sinistra preparando la série délie figurazioni del fronte posteriore
ove si ha un altorilievo rapprescntante la coronazione del Petrarca in Cani-
pidoglio, e quindi altre figure allegoriche che si riconnettono al fronte
anteriorc con la statua di Amore allusiva ai Trionfi. »
Il nionumento sark tutto di marmo di Carrara e spicchera su! verde délia
bel la piiizza alberata.
E'niorta a Viareggio, a 68antii, la scrillrice « Oiiida », inglese per nascita,
ma ornifii quasi italiana per il Inngo soggiorno in Ilalia e per l'amore che
portava alla patria nostra. I suoi romanzi s'incpuidrano quasi tutti in una
cornice italiana : Pascarel si svolge a Firenze, in A Winter city è ancora di
Firenze che si parla. S^gna, In Maremma contengono descrizioni d'ambiente,
di persone, di luoghi italiani, in quello sfondo di paesaggio or gentile ora
aspro che la scrittrice conosceva e sapeva rendere cosi bene. I libri di
« Guida weran molto diffusi e apprezzati anche in Inghilterra ; ma nonostantc
la sua celebrità, la vecchia scrittrice ha terminato i suoi giorni nella mise-
ria. Ciô si deve essenzialmente al grande disordine di questa donna, che
tutta la vita ebbe un'ignoranza assoluta del valore del denaro, e in pochi
giorni soleva sciupare le migliaia di lire che le inviavano i suoi editori per
compenso dei suoi lavori. Cosi ella trascorse tutta la vita in una perpétua
alternativa di splendidezza c di povertà, passando da una magnitica villa ad
una catapecchia 2, ricevendo ora sontuosamente nella sua casa di Firenze,
riducendosi poscia a taie da iovcr passare una notte sulla spiaggia di
Viareggio per non aver di che pagai-c una caméra d'albergo. Negli uUimi
anni errô da Sauf Alessio ai Bagni di Lucca, da Viareggio a Massarosa
trascinando aftannosamente da un albergo a una cajmnna di coniadini
il suo cuore malato, la sua cecità, le poche vesti, e i suoi trc cani, Ruffivo,
Goldoni e Neino i cari animali compagni inseparabibi délia sua vecchiezza.
Viveva ritiratae disdegnosa di tutto e di tutti ; al Governo inglese che le
aveva offerte una pensione di loO sterline rispondeva col noto lelegramma
« Vi proibisco assolutamente di occuparvi di me ».
1. chiusa délia Canzone del Petrarca AWIlalUi. — 2. tu^urio, misera capaiina.
[467] PARTE ITALIA^A 75
Le poésie di Enrico Panzacchi.
La Ditta Nicola Zanichelli ha pubblicato di questi giorni le poésie di E. Panzacchi
raccolte in edizione postuma e deflnitiva. Preludia alla raccolta una bellissima pagina
di Giovanni Pascoli, da oui togliamo i seguenti passi :
Rileggiamo,
L'ora dcl tempo e la stogione sono propizie allapocsia. E'una matlinata di
novembre pienadi soh'. Oh!
tra la nebhia autunnale
dolce riso d'Aprile !
liileggiamo tra questo riso il Pocta morlo.
JVlusica lene', musica blanda, un riguardo di eantar troppo alto e di sonar
troppo forte, un orrore dello stridulo e del rimbombante, ritmi che si allen-.
lano e spezzano, cadenze ches'affrettano amorire... Strumenti antichi, vecclii
cembali dalla tasliera gialla, stradivari, oricalchi 2, leuti ^ buccine '% e la
sinfonia dei fiori che suonano aceompagnando le rose che cantano, e l'inno
delsilenzio nottui'no, com|)Oslodi nmrmuri, di sibili, di sospiri, ditrilli e di
ronzii, che fa perccpire rimpcrccUibile movimcnto degli astri ..
Odo tra il sonno. Alla casetta intorno
c'('' qualcuno che gira e che bisbiglia.. .
Corne note e nuove ([ucste « voci della villa », dal suon dell'Avc al ronzio
délie api, dal fischio dei tramvia all'ansai'e della trebbiatrice, dalla rauca
fanfara d'un battaglione che fa un nuvolo di polvei-e per la via Flaminia,
aile acutc cantilene délie conladine che annunziano, povcrette, d'esser nate
in mezzo ai fiori !
Buono era questo Poeta profondamente. So bene che la bont^ (pare
impossibile !)ha mala voce^, oggidi. Noi pendiamo a credere ch'ella sia una
cotai Hacchezza, indelerminatczza, irresolutczza ; c ci sentiamo pot*tati a
rispondcr maie a chi ci dà questa taccia. Eppure noi proviamo lulti, nel
segreto della nostra coscicnza, che è più facile il biasinio che la iode, e la
vendetta che il perdono. H maie salta agli occhi; le ingiiirie ci si affollano
aile labbra. Diflicile è ricacciarle dentro, le ingiurie, difticile è distrarre
l'occhio dal malc e vedere anche il bene, diflicile allai'garc il pugno e sten-
dere la mano.
La bontà, insomma, c fortezza. E (juesto qui, cosi sereno come critico,
cosi cquilibrato come oratore c pensalore, cosi un)ilr e alto come Poeta, era
un forte : un forte senza darsene Tai'ia.
El"! ? Sicuro : sino dal V ottobre del 1904 ntm è jjiii. Lassii, appunto, in
(|uel vermiglio San Michèle che biilla al sole, si sfiense. Voile morir lassù,
il buon Enrico, in quelFIstituto che puo chiamarsi il capolavoro
della bontà. Lo fondu, come tutti sanno, il grande chirurgo Rizzoli con « le
sostanze » che gli pei'venncro, « dai malati » e che cosi tornarono « a pro'
deU'umanità sott'erente ». A pro', tornarono, deU'umanilà che comincia con
la vita la soiîerenza. A pro' délie créature rachitiche, stoi'pie, deformi... Che
bei visini vi si vedono ! che dolci e meste seml»ianze ! Lassii avvengono i
miracoli delTelà nostra.
Quivi sto io coi parvoli innocenti
mi par ch'egli esclami dalla rotonda, con la grave, soave, profonda voce
che doveva aver Virgilio quando parlava aile a lire ombre. « Prcsso loro
volli morire, e presso loro io vivo, ora e sempre, ombra di pio vate, con
Tumbra di eolui che servi i'umanità « con vero amore ».
Ullimi di novembre.
(iiovanni Pascoli.
1. lieve, tenue. — 2. ottoni. — 3. liuti. — 4. trombe. — l'>. cattiva fama.
76
PAUTE ITALIANA
[468]
Rubrum in sero
Dietro i monti una raggieni '
fan le iiiibi. È sceso il sole
ne la sua gloria tranqnilla.
\'an per l'aria de la sera
risa e garrule ^ parole,
sovra gli usci délia villa.
Da ponente un lu me roggio^
muor sui vetri. Vola un cheto
pipistrello a torno a torno.
La villetta in cinia al poggio
serba senipre un volto lieto,
tra il finir mesto del giorno.
Enrico Painzacchi.
* Dalle Voci dcUa Villa in Poésie di
Knrico Pakzacchi (Zanichelll, 1908). —
1. Corona di raggi. — 2. Loquaci. —
3. Rosso.
La trebbiatrice
Meriggio. — La macchina trebbia
ansando con rombo profondo.
Il grano, rigagnolo biondo,
gii^iscorre. Nell' aria è unanebbia
sottile. Sogguarda per Paia
il nonno con faccia rubizza ^
Neir aria una rondine guizza,
radendo la bassa grondaia.
E intanto che ressa ' sul ponte
tra i mucchi di spighe e di paglia,
col sole chegli occhiabbarbaglia,
col sole che affuoca ^ ogni fronte !
Le donne di rosse pezzuole
avvolgon le treccie sudanti.
Non s'odon ne risa, ne canli.
Ma il nonno : — Su allègre, figii-
[ uole ! —
Enrico Panzacchi.
* Dalle Voci dclla Villa in Poésie
d'Emico Panzacchi.
1 . Rossa e IVesca, dicesi vecchio ru-
hizzo per Uorido, robuste. — 2. che
afTollarsi di gente — 3. infuoca.
Corne si debba tradurre in italiano la parola « menu ».
Il parère dello Stecchetti.
Finora a Cortc il mrnu dei pranzi era scritto in francese ; or;i si apjirende
che il Re ha ordiitato du un niese circa che la carta pei pranzi sin compilata
in lingiia ilaliana. IiifaUi a Capodanno, al pranzo offerto dal Re ai grandi
dignilari dello Stato, il menu era scritto nella nostra liiigua. A (jnesto pro-
posito il (jiornale cVlialia rivolse quesla curiosa donianda agli uccadeniici
délia Crusca ' « Se dovoste dare un grau pranzo ai colloghi, corne tradur-
resle la parola menu ? Nota, carta, lista ? »
Ecco corne, tra gli altri rispose lo Stecchetti (Olindo C.uerriiii) : Menu., nel
senso di lista délie vivande, non deve essere parola mollo anlica, nenimeno
in francese. L'esempio più veccliio che ne rcgistri il Liltré è del Marmontel.
In italiano, lista è antipalico perché ricorda il conto da pagare ed elenco è
troppo solenne e cattedi-alico ; minuta poi è di italianilà dubbia, e specie in
questo signiticato. E dunque corne si fa ?
Si fa corne facevano i nostri antichi. Cristoforo Messisbugo ciioco del diica
Alfonso di Ferrara inlitola lelenco délie vivande cosî : desinare (o cena o
colazione) dato dal diica eccetera, al signor gran commendatore eccetera ;
Bartolomeo Scappi, cuoco di Paolo V, quel Hurghesius cosi suporbameiite
iscritto sopra il fronlonc di San Pietro, fa lo stesso, salvo che in\ecc di
1. L'Accademia délia CcMSca è destiiiata a mantenere la purezza e la propriotà
délia Hngua italiaiia, di oui i suoi niembri rompilano il dizionario.
[469] PARTE ITALIANA 77
desinare, dice pranzo. Tl Romoli, detto il Panunto, non varia altro che nel
nome che per lui è convito ; lo Stefani, cuoco del duca di Mantova procède
allô stesso modo, ma dice banchetto, parola oggi troppo abusata. Il Vassalli
dice banchetto anche lui. Pranzo, dice il Matlci da Camerino cd altre volte
banchetto corne il Lalini esercitato nel servitio di vari porporati e prencipi -
grandi. II Tanari dice pranzo e nel Frugoli lucehese o nel Cigher, trinciantc
deWillustrissima natione alemanna in Padova apparc la parola lista. Coi
settecentisti Corradi e Cavalcanti abhiamo minuta, di évidente importazione
francese.. . e tinisco per non essere iniportuno.
Per tornare dmique alTantica moda italiana, io direi che si potesse scriverc
nel cartoncino cosi, j)er csempio : Pranzo offerio da Sua Maestà il re dltalia
al corpo diplomalico il 1908 e qui attaccare l'enumerazione dellc vivande
lasciando nella loro lingiia nalia quelle che sono esoticlie spccialmcnte i
vini, Champagne, bordeaux, Xères eccetera, e traducendo in italiano quel
che sia traducibile senza l'affettazione di quel puristi che traducevano Gof-
froy de Houillon per Goffredo del Brodo. Sfuggirei anche la moda che
in Francia accenna già a decadere, di far precedere l'articolo aile vivande
corne le quaglie arrosto, le pcrnici allô sciampagna, riservando l'articolo
aile vivande a ciii sta bcne iina indicaziune topografica corne il cignale di
San Piossore, il camoscio di Valsavaranche ed altrc Ma finisco la chiacchie-
rata archeologica e culinaria, per la quale ho \oluto l'icordare l'uso dell'ita-
liano antico e non già mettere il naso nci falti di cbi ù buon padrone in
casa sua.
Olindo GuERRiM.
2. italiano antico : iiel servizio di vari porporati (da porpora ; dicesi dei grandi
dignitari délia Chiesa) e principi.
Spontini.
Nel dicembre scorso si sarebbe ])otato l'esteggiarein Italia il centenario délia
Vestale l'opéra del maestro Spontini alla quale egli deve la fama. Lo Spontini
erariconosciuto da! Wagner pei'uno dcisuoi logiltimi [jrcdecessori, einsieme
col Gluck e col Webcr fu gindicato dal Berlioz entusiasticamente. Do[)0 la
rappi'esentazione del suo Cortez, il Berlioz gli scriveva una lettera che tiniva:
« Se ammirare le grandi cosc ed onorare i grandi uomini è im dovcre,
stringendovi la mano sento che è anche una félicita «. Cwuc Wagner — pur
senza voh^r esagei'are nel paragone — lo Spontini fu esposto aile ostilità e
alla dei'isione dei nemiei d'ogni innovazione. Quando — ricorda la Rivista
marchigiana illustrata — egli porto la partitura ai censori dell'Accademia
impériale di musica questi ne condannarono la stravaganza dello slile, Fau-
dacia délie innovazioni, Fabuso délia sonorità, e uno di loro giunse a dire
che il suo canto si posava sull'accompagnamento « corne un pugno dicapelli
sopra una minestra » : conclusero di non permetterne l'esecuzione alTOpéra.
Ma, per forluna, lo Spontini godeva délia protezione deirimperatricc Giusep-
pina, e l'Opéra gli fur aperta. Vennero altre amarezze. Icantanli — corne fu
detto poi per le opère di Wagner — dichiaravano quella musica ineseguibile.
L'attore, che doveva tare il sommo sacerdote, brontolava tanto che un giorno
lo Spontini, sdegnat.o, gli strappo la parte dalle mani e la gettô al fuoco. Il
basso Dérivis, giovane allora (juasi ignoto, la strappo aile tiamme e disse :
— Io rho salvata e io me la prendo. — I nemiei dello Spontini decisero di
provocare il fiasco alla prima rappresentazione e, non potendo fischiare
perché i fischi erano severamente proibiti, si promisero di raggiungere
l'etïetto con le risate e gli sbadigli. Pel hnale del secondo atto i)oi, tutti dove-
78 PARTE ITALIANA [470]
vano mettere in lesta dei IteiTelti da nolte, i)er dimostrare che la mnsica
spontiniana laceva venire il sonno. Ma la rappresentazione fu un trionfo e i
conginrati non osarono mettersi contro il pubblico. Allora si fece correre la
voce che la ])ai'tilura non raveva fatta lui, ma Taveva trovala per caso da
un drogliicre e adattata al librelto. E a qucsta stiipida calunnia presto fede
anche il Rossini !
Morte eroica *.
11
Il sentimento d'orgoglio di coloro che rimanevano non sembrava con-
diviso dai giovani partent!, ad eccezionedei pochi chelecopiose libazioni
avevano resi un p'o brilli, e che schiamazzavanoe facevano i millantatori
discorrendo con dei grandi gesti.
Tutti gli altri se ne stavano li, tristi, parlaudo poco, con la gola stretta
e gli sguardi spauriti. Anche Michèle Lobicki era di (|uesti. Egli sentiva
una gran stretta al cuore, e avrebbe dato volentieri la meta dei suosangue
per poter rimanere.
— Mania, cuore mio ! Mania, mia povera cara sposina, Mania, mia
diletta tortorella — balbeltava continuaniente con pallide lal)bra, carez-
zando i biondi capelli délia l'anciulla.
— Via, ragazzi, obiettù il vecchio Leschkosipuù sapere perché piagnu-
colate a quel modo ? Psia A'reiv, sono stato giovanotto e soldato
anch'io, mi son battuto coi turchi, com'è vero Dio, li ho latti a pezzi e
tuttavia me ne son tornato sano e salvo. Michèle se la spiccerà ancor più
presto con queste pulci gialleche non me la sia cavata io con quel turchi
sbilenchi, e fra un anno sarà nuovamente qui. Mania, figliuola mia.
— Ma se muoio o resto storpiato '? chiese Michèle cupo. Mania a quelle
parole si mise a gridare e ad abbracciare il lidadanzato ancor più stretto
— Michèle, Michèle !
Ma Katia dichiaro superbamente :
— Un eroe puù anche tornare storpiato, capisci, Michèle. Enon c'è che
da esserne orgogliosi. Io per la prima ne sarei orgogliosissima e t'accudirei
tino al fine dei tuoi giorni, com' è vero che sono una buona cristiana e
che ho bisogno dell'aiuto dei Santi. E chi la pensa altrimenti. . . .
Ma il vecchio Leschko la interruppe, dicendo :
— Fui mini e saette, Katia Garowicz, credi tu che io sia un cattivo cri-
stiano? Che torni sano o che torni malato, Michèle vivra con me, nevvero,
ligliuoletta, egli starà con noi ?
Mania singhiozzava troppo per poter rispondere ; pero l'ece di si, di si
con energia.
Ma in quel punto echeggio l'ultimo lischio. Bisognava salire. Pochi
minuti dopo Michèle e i suoi camerati eran sottratti agii sguardi lagri-
mosi di coloro che rimanevano.
[Continua.)
Federico Werner van Oestkren.
Vedi le altre quattio parti.
[471] PARTE ITALIANA 79
La composta di prugne.
Mamma {entra recando una lerrina w mano). — Senti, Gioriîina, io
debbo uscire per fare alcune compcre. Metto dunqiie qua questo vaso di
composta di prugne che ho linito or ora, perché si ralifreddi Posso
fidarmi che la mia piccola golosa non lo toccherà ?
Giorgina. — Fidati, tidati mamma.
Ma3Ima. — Eh si, tu dici sempre cosi, ma poi, alla prova, è sempre la
gola che la vince.
Giorgina. — Ma questa volta non sarà, vedrai.
Mamma. — Yedremo. 0 a proposito, è ben stassera che il babbo vuol
condurti seco a quel Girco équestre che dà le sue rappresentazioni al
Politeama ?
Giorgina. — SI, stassera. È la serata d'addio.
Mamma. — Ebbene, inteso : se non toccherai la composta ci anderai,
altrimenti, rimarrai a casa.
GioRGiXA. — Non la toccherù.
Mamma. — Sta bene, sta bene. Intanto io voglio stabilire un piccolo con-
trollo. Yieni qua, Giorgina.
Giorgina. — Eccomi, mamma.
Mamma. — Ecco qua un pezzo di carboncino che il babbo adopera per
disegnare. Con questa io ti farù una croce sulle labbra. Se al ritorno
la croce c'è ancora vuol dire che non avrai toccato la conserva, se non
c'è
Giorgina. — Oh bella, mamma.
Mamma. — Sta ferma. Ecco, ti faccio un segno perpendicolare aile
labbra ifinrje di segnarlo, ma non lo segna). Ferma. E poi un altro che
taglia il primo [corne sopra). Ecco fatto. E adesso naturalmente mi
porto via il carboncino e vedremo corne manterrai la promessa.
Giorgina. — Oh lo vedrai davvero. Addio, mamma.
Mamma. — Addio, Giorgina. (Esce.)
Giorgina (sala). — Oh questa volta la mamma non mi coglierà in fallo.
La conserva di prugne è molto buona, ma andare al Girco col babbo mi
piace ancor più; e poi ho promesso e devo mantenere (Bussano alla
porta). — Chi sarà mai '?Avanti. [Entra Carletto.) Oh sei tu, Carletto?
Carletto. — Buon d), Giorgina, ero venuto a cercare la zia. Non c'è?
Giorgina. — No, è uscita per certe sue compère. .Ma che vuoi ?
Carletto. — Niente niente, tornerù un'altra volta.
Giorgina. — Sta bene.
Carletto ( Va sulla porta ; poi s'arresta). — 0 che odore c'è qua ?
Giorgina. — Odore V non so.
Carletto. — Si un'odore. Si direbbe, ecco, corne di composta diprugne.
Giorgina. — Oh le prugne !
Carletto — 0 mi sbaglio?
Giorgina. — ^' No no ; infatti la mamma oggi ha fatto la composta di
prugne e Iha messa li in quel vaso a raffreddare. {Prontamente.)Ma non
si tocca.
Carletto. — Ohibô, s'intende.
Giorgina. — Carletto, piace anche a te la composta di prugne?
Carletto. — Si, mi piace assai.
Giorgina. — A me piace moltissimo.
80 PARTE ITALIANA [472]
Carletto. — Infatti è buona e dolce.
GioRGiNA. — Oh è cosi buona ! La mamma poi la fa cosi l)ene : sopra
c'è il sngo e in fondo le prugne clie paiono candite.
Carletto. — Sai che mi fai venire rac(|uolina in bocca?
GioRGiNA. — Oh io l'ho già da tanto tempo {dopo una pansa) —
Senti, Carletto, la mamma a te non dira niente. Se vuoi una prugna la
puoi assaggiare. Non di piii, ma una si, te lo assicuro.
Carletto. — Sei certa che la zia lo permetterebbe f
GioRGiNA. — Certissima.
Carletto. — E allora perché no ? {Si accosta al vaso, prende una pru-
gna e la niangia.) oh eccellenle ! proprio come dici tu. Pare candita. Ma
tu non ne assaggi ?
GioRGiNA.. — Jo. . . veramente non so. Una sola non sarel>be un
gran maie nevvero f
Carletto. — Mah, non credo.
Giorgina. — E allora senti ecco, ne assaggero una anch'io.
{Prende la prugna) Ah com'è buona, com'è buona ! (pansa) Oh ora che
ci penso non hai perô assaggiato il sugo.
Carletto. — lo no.
Giorgina. — Via un goccetto disugo lo possiamoprendere. Che ne dici?
Carletto. — E prendiauiolo. {Inlinge il cucchiaino. Lo iniingc anche
Giorgina e dopo la prima volta, una seconda e terza e quarla. Poi Gior-
gina getia un grido).
Giorgina. — Oh povera me che ho fatto !
Carletto. — Che liai fatto, che c'è ?
(Continua.)
AWE.
Aforismi di Arturo Graf *.
Gli egoisti sono poveri niaestri nolTarle di godere, ignorando la gioia
del dare e del darsi.
Chi voglia udire la voce sincera délia coscienza si metta un l)atuf}blo
di ovatta nelle orecchie ' .
La ricchezza e la povertâ sono la stessa cosa [)erché fanno dell'uomo
uno schiavo.
Chi non abbia altro che quattrini è un povero diavolo.
A i'are sana e giusta politica non basta conoscere gli uomini : bisogna
ancora amarli.
Da compiangere l'uomo che non sa parlare : da ammirare la donna
che sa tacere.
Cosi quando la dotma tende a trasformarsi in uomo, come ((uando
l'uomo tende a trasformarsi in donna, la eiviltà è in pericolo.
Di nessuna cosa si puo dire soltaiito bene ; di nessuna cosa si pu6
dire sol tanto maie.
Se invidii qualcuno, fa di rendergli servizio e guarirai dall' invidia.
Arturo Grae.
• AnxuRO Graf. — Ecce Homo. Aforismi e Parabole. (Milano, Trêves, 1908). — 1.
cioè : si turi gli orecchi per non senliie la voce degli uoniini.
Les Cinq Langues
No H.
5 Mars 1908.
8° Année.
PARTE ITALIANA
Note d'Atlualità.
Attorno alla reggia insanguinata.
Lalragedia di Lisbonaha concenlralo rallenzione dcU'Europa e del mondo
Hilla nazione portoghese, su quel palazzo délia Necessitades che ha accollo
tanto scempio e
tanto dolore. Tutti
gli aninii si sono
volti curiosi o pie-
tosi verso le vil-
time : il re arliîta
lin po' spensierato
e imprudente, ma,
pur negli errori
suoi, generoso, ca-
valière, leale ; il
principe ereditario,
povera giovinezza
recisa prima di
sbocciare; laregina
madré — Maria Pia
di Savoia — antico
esempio di virile co-
raggio, Maria Ame-
lia, dolce figura
muliebre adorna di
tutle le grazie, ora
rieinta da una dop-
pia auréola di mar-
tirio, e finalmente
il nuovo re che, a
diciott" anni, nelP
età dei giovanili
abbandoni , délia
fiducia, délia spensicralez/a, si trova innalzato al trono insanguinato del
sangue paterne e fraterno.
-Nel tragico evento quanti atli di gentilezza e di valore, quanti tratti
commoventi e nobili la sloria regisira : dalla parola del re morente « E la
regina ? », a quella di ManuellI <> Quandosi sale al trono nelle condizioniineui
vi sono salito io non v'è che una via da seguire — quella délia clemenza »,
dalTatto délia regina che si alza nella carrozza per fur scudo del proprio
corpo ai figli, al grido di Maria Pia o Ah se ci fossi stata io ! »
Inlorno al morlo re scno interessanti alcune note che, sotto il titolo « Un
re pittore », pubblica sul Marzocco Vitlorio Corcos, il ce'ebre ritralti^-ta.
[65] mL.ll
Ret.,ina Maiia Amelin
82 PARTE ITALIANA [514j
<( Non avevo ancora voduto nulla dcl re, allorchè una matlina egii vcnne
improvvisamenle a trovarmi nella sala grande degli antbasciatori dove lavo-
ravo, poT invitarmi a visitare il suo studio. Mi sombra di vederlo : vestiva
Tabito da générale, con la veste aperla sulla can)icia da notte, con una cor-
lissima pipa in bocca, e con le pantofoie di veliuto. Non costretto'il corpo
iiel cinturino d'ordinanza ne dalla abbottonatura délia tunica, il re mi
apparve énorme piîi del consueto, ma, bonario e cortese sempre, mi salnto
con lin grazioso cenno del capo senza parlare per tema di disturbarmi.
a Cosi rimase per circa mezz'ora finchè in perfetto italiano : « Sa,
professore, » mi disse « sono un po' pittore anch' io ; venga a vedere i miei
scarahocchi. » E indicandomi la via da percorrere, mi condusse altraverso
sale e saloni, scale e scalette, fino aH'ullimo piano del palazzo, Lassii viveva
escliisivamente l'artista e non il re, neWatelier che si era fatto coslruire
apposta, in buona luce, con tutti gli accessorî dé! mestiere, cavallelti, stoffe,
armi, tappeti, divani, per le sieste e gli inevitabili riposi dopo un faticoso ed
insistente lavoro dal vero.
<c Rammento una série di acqnerelli deliziosi, eseguiti con maestria addirit-
tura singolare. Fra gli altri, una f'uga di nnbi, deciinanti verso il Tago
nebbioso e profondo, un cielo di uragano ove mi sorprese soprattutto la
fattura insolita con cui l'acquerello era trattato dal re. « E' un mio piccolo
segreto » disse. « Vede, pei miei cieli io non mi servo mai di pennelli «, e
stemperata una certa quanti ta dï nero, di bien e di bitume con acqua mol-
tissima, prese un batufolo di coton floscio che intinse in quella mescolanza,
E servendosene come spugna e come pennelio al tempo stesso, con rapiditk
grande tracciô su di un cartoncino in pochi minuti uno spaventoso oft'etto di
nubi. sorprendente di verilà, proprio un cidonein mioiatura....
« lia visto ? E' il mio piccolo segreto » ripeté Carlos un sorriso di compia-
cenza.
Ed ecco la visita di congedo :
« Il re mi ricevé solo, nel suo appartamcnto privato. Era vestito da géné-
rale, e questa volta senza la pipa ne le pantofoie Dopo brevi e cortesi
parole, c qualche schiarimento su certi damaschi stupemli che gettali alla
rinfusa spiccavano sui mobili dorati, il re, coUo sguardo diretto verso il
softitto, mi disse, indicandomi una tela di piccole dimensioni :«Vuol vedere
unRaff'aello autentico ? Non mi è riuscito ancora di trovare un posto dove
collocarlo in buona luce ; per ora è lassù. » Io Hssai il ijuadro senza vederlo,
ne polei per conseguenza partecipare alla ammirazione del re che di quella
teîa si mostrava fanatico. « Aspetti, » mi disse» c'è la scaletta délia biblio-
leca, la prenda, e saïga lassù, che ne vale la pena. » Presi la scala, ed
alquanto titubante, restio come sono ad ogni sorta di evoluzione acrobatica,
vi salii sopra, ma incespicai nella brève e facile salita allorchè mi accorsi
che il re, temendo una sciagura, mi teneva ferma la scala. Il re in porsona,
con quel sorrizo canzonatorio délie grandi occasioni ; mentre io, in frac e
cravattabianca allenove di matlina, me ne stavo in cima ad una scala di
legno, assorto nella contomplazione di uno dei più delicati bozzetti usciti dal
pennelio del divino urbinale-.»
Anche intorno a Maria Amelia circolano numei'osi gli aneddoti che ne
ricordano la bontà, la gentilezza, tutte le virtù rare c squisite: ricordanoche
si gettù a nuoto per salvare un operaio, ricordano comme fosse pietosa coi
poveri, sposa, madré modello.
Un giornale di Napoli, in quesli tristi giorni, riportava inlorno a lei un
aneddoto certo poco noto.
Due anni or sono la Regina Maria Amelia soggiornava in Napoli, ospite
délia duchessa d'AosIa, e amava sludiare davvicino i costumi del popolo,
1. coalringere lia significato morale di forzare, e materiale di slringcrc, clùudere- —
2. Haffaello'da Urbino.
[515] PARTK ITALI\ISA
recandosi sovente nei quartier! popolari. Visitando, un giorno, in com-
pagnia di un dotto studioso di Napoli antica, il pitloresco e brulicanle rionc
di Pendino, la b<?lla Regina lu t'crmaLa da nna vecchia grinzosa, tutta rat-
trappita e nntuosa, che le disse ; « M'hanno delto che voi siete la Regina tV
'e Purtugalle (regina délie arancie !). Ma, cosi bella corne siete, con codeste
labbra inzuccherate, dovreste invece chiamarvi la Regina délie fragole ! «
— Maria Amelia rise deU'ingenuo e strambo madrigale e allora la veccbietla
prese ardire e voile leggerle la ventura nel paimo délia mano. Non aveva
ancora presa la mano délia nobilissima signora, che la fattucchiera ' si rab-
buiô in viso e scoppiô in dirotto pianto. Non ci fu verso di cavarle più di
boccaunaparola. Ma per quel giorno la Regina gioconda c spensierata non
rise più.
Le era forse passato nell' animo il presentimenlo angoscioso délia tragica
notte in cui ella, muta e sola, avrebbe veglialo fra due cadaveri adorati, con
nna mano snl volto del marito e l'allra sul capo del tiglio giovinetto ?
Il graa raid automobilistico New-York-Parig-i.
Il fanioso raicZ automobilistico Pechino-Parigi avvenuto Tanno scorso e nel
quale la vittoria spettô all'Italia, suggeri ad un signor Lelouvier Tidea di un"
altra corsa automobilistica assai più importante : ([uella da New-York a Parigi
per l'Alaska, pei ghiacci dello stretto di Behring e la Siberia. Egli comunico
(luesla sua idea al giornale Le Matin di Parigi, (che promosse Tanno scorso
la Pechino-Parigi) che la fece sua bandendo senz'altro ilconcorso.
Nonostante la temerarietà dell' impresa si trovarono sei automobili in
gara : un' americana condotta da Harold Brincker, unatedesca, tre francesi,
e un' italiana — la Ziist, guidata dal giovane Antonio Scarfoglio.
In mezzo a una foUa énorme acclamante dai marciapiedi, dalle finestre e
dai tetti degli sky-scrapers, seguite da un corteo di trecento automobili, le
sei vettureconcorrenti han lasciato Nuova-York il 13 febbraio, ed ora volano
verso il nord, verso i ghiacci e le nevi, mentre il pubblico attende curioso
Tesito deir impresa audace a bizzarra.
maliarda ; iiicantatrice.
Il Giardino.
Il giardino è un frammento délia natiu'a fatto prigioniero fra le murao le
siepi, e dovrebbe esser sempre un quadro, in cui le bellezze naturali fossero
scelte bene, raccolte con ingegnosa selezione in piccolo spazio ; per modo
che fossero non deformate, ne contraffatte, ne mutilate dalla mano deiruomo,
ma messe con arte ingegnosa in una cornice cosi bella, che le facesse meglio
distinguere e meglio apprezzare.
Invece, ahimè, molli giardini sono grottesche caricature délia natura, o
per colpa délia tirannia dello spazio o délia povertà del padrone ; più spesso
pero per povertà di gusto estetico, per ignoranza deU'arte.
Abbiamo manuali e trattati suirarte di tare i giardini, e vi puô essere in
un giardino tanta ingegnositàdi architettura quanto in un palazzo. La beilezza
di ([ueste prigioni di piaiite ha sempre seguito i progressi c i regressi deU'arte,
avanzando o indietreggiando, elevandosi o abbassandosi con essa. Ghi oggi
puô senza raccapriccio e senza orrore passeggiare in un antico giardino, dove
pareti di bosso o di carpino rappresentano lettere, ghirigori od anche uomini
8't PAUIE ITALIANA [516"
ed animali ; dove le ajuole di fiori sembrano polpelte in un tegame, e tutto
sembra lavorato a furia di pialla e di compasso e le plante son peltinate e
tenu te sulla t'alsa riga délia simmetria dal cosmetico dei giardinieri ?
Oggi fortunatamente qiiesti giardini si conservano in pochi antichi castelli
di grandi signori,esi ammirano corne eccentriche manifestazioni diun gusto
barocco. È in quel giardini che dovevano passeggiare con delizia signore
dal guardinfante e gentiluomini con parrucca e coda, e la cipria che volava
via da quelle teste piene di vente ei-a un profumo degno di quelle ajuoline,
di quel labirinti, di (juelle statue grottesche con analoghi motti ; di tutto
quel secentismo borniniano' inflitto aile povere e innocenti plante di quel
tempo.
Meglio assai di questi giardini son quelli délia China e del Giappone, dove
alberi nani in vialelti minuscoli e contraftazioni di uomini, d'nccelli e di
quadrupedi ti rappresentano una biiffoneria fanciullesca, che non ha alcuna
pretesa di grandezza, ma che ti fa ridere, corne ogni caricatura fatta bene.
Oggi perô non abbiamopiùi giardini del secoloXVII e XVilf, ne sapremmo
imitare i giardinettidell'estremo Oriente, e ci siamo avvicinati ad una ripro-
duzione intelligente e artistica délia natura, Questi giardini son chiamati
ancora all'inglese , ma presto saranno i giai'dini di tutto il mondo. E nasce-
ranno artisti nuovi, che sapranno immaginare nuove combinazioni estetiche
nella disposizione délie plante e dei fiori ; nell'armonia dei viali, dei senlieri
dell'acqua e délia terra.
La natura del terreno, se piano o inclinato, la mancanza o l'abbondanza
dell'e acque, sopratutto poi la diversità del clima, che non permette la vita
prosperosa che ad un dato gruppo di plante, si impongono corne condizioni
indiscutibili all'architetto dei giardini ; cd egli len endo conto di tutti quesli
elementi, deve cavarne il maggior frutlo possibile, dilettando il nosti'o occhio
con una série di quadri tutti belli, ma tutti diversi.
lo non sono architetto e neppure agrimensore, ma <imante appassionato
délie plante e dei liori sino dalla mia prima infanzia ; e se avessi tanti quat-
trini da potermi l'are un giardino a modo mio, lo vorrei in un terreno acci-
dentato délia Riviera di Genova, ma dove Tacqua fosse cosi copiosa da per-
mettermi il lusso di cascate, di laghetti e di ruscelli, e dove la terribile
provenza ^ non mi avessc da bruciare una o due volte Fanno le mie verdi
fîgliuole,
E allora, chiamato un architetto di giardini, gli direi : fate quel che voleté
e corne voleté, ma non violatc quel precetti, ch'io credo degni di esser ele-
vati a dogmi deU'artc di fare i giardini :
Nascondere al possibile le pareti, che racobiudono il giardino, onde non
possa esser creduto una prigione.
Riimire in piccolo spazio il maggior numéro di piaule arborée, dei piii
diversi tipi.
Ogni giardino che si rispetta deve presentarci ([uesti quadri elementari
dei paesaggi naturali : la foresta, il boschetto, il cespuglio, il prato, il ru-
scello, la fontana e il lago.
*
In qualunque punto noi rivolgiamo lo sguardo, vi deve esserc un oriz-
zonte vasto o che sembri laie.
*
Fuggire al possilibe i viali diritd, e nelle curve ardite e fréquent! nascon-
dere la ristrettezza dello spazio.
1.11 nernini è famoso scultore del Seicento. — 2. nome d'un vento.
[517J FAUTE ITALIANA
Stadiare con somma arte le combinazionipiùsimpatiche délie diverse varietà
del verde, gettando qua e là qualche macchia di alberi dalle t'oglie blanche
e rosse.
«
In nessuna stagione manchi il verde, in nessun giorno manchi il fiore.
*
Vi sia pure un angolo del giai'dino, in cni rovine classiehe di un lempio
antico e colonne e cippi e statue ci parlino délia sublime simmetria greca,
ma queste bellezze sieno corne sommerse dalle plante arrampicanti, dalle
edere ; come sopraffatte dalFinvasione degli alberi più scapigliati 3, dimo-
strando che Tarte più sublime non è che una povera e modesta ancella^ délia
natura.
Anche nelle ajuole più simmetriche nessuna insalata di ordine composito,
ma l'ordine nel disordine.
Che in qualche luogo si possa crederdi smarrirsi, senza che vi sa il classico
labirinto di Versailles o di Desio, e la natura sembri in ([ualche posto aver
\into e soprafTatto la mano dell'uomo.
*
Prima d'ogni altra cosa, sopra ogni altra cosa Tarte sia cosi ben nascosta.
che non si possa neppur intravvedere ; e alberi e fiori e sentieri sembrino
eombinazioni foi'tuite di quel massimo genio, che è la natura.
Paolo Mantegazza.
{DeLlV 11 lustra :-ione iiopolare.)
3. scapestrati, dai rami disordinati. — 4. serva.
Morte eroica*.
\\\
Il reggimeiito a cui Michèle Lobicki era stato assegnato, appena arri-
vato sul luogo, fu mandato sul fronte deIT esercito e pochi giorni dopo
si trovo coiiivolto in un combattimento col nemico. Non fu il cozzo di
due importanti masse militari, h\ piuttosto una scaramuccia ; ma il
destine voile che Michèle restasse gravemente ferito : un colpo di scia-
bola lo colpi in faccia, una palla gli fracassé la gamba sotto il ginocchio.
Egli rimase quattro mesi al lazzaretto di Charbin, donde fu rilasciato
come guarito, quindicongedato come inabile al servizio, La gamba destra
era carne e ossa sino al ginocchio, il resto — legno. Dalla guancia sinistra
poi, attraverso la bocca e sino al mento, correva una larga cicatrice rossa
che gli deturpava tutto il volto e gli sconciava le labbra. Gli mancavano
anche tre denti. Insomma non era più lo splendido giovanotto che uem-
manco otto mesi prima aveva lasciato il suo paese tîorente di
salute e di forza ; era un povero storpio brutto e malaticcioa cui neanche
la croce dei prodi rilucente sul petto poteva rendere cara e desiderabile
la vita. Quanti patimenti iisici aveva sopportato, santissima Yergine, e
adesso che doveva tornare, che soff'erenze moraii ! Che urlo aveva cac-
* Vedi le altre quattro parti.
86 PARTE ITALIANA [518]
ciato la prima voltache s'era visto nello specchio dopo la guarigione,
([uanti gemiti allorchè, colla sua gamba di legno, avevo dovuto ricomin-
ciare ad apprendere a camminare come im bambino, e come aveva
pianto amaramente, pieiio il cuore di spasirao e di tiinori, pensaudo al
ritorno al paese. Egli era magro come un moribondo, pallido come uu
cadavere, triste come una povera anima dauuata. Mania, Mania, che
direbb' ella? E la Katia, e tutti gli altri? Oh essi piangerebbero su di lui,
con lui. Lodato Dio che essi erano dei buoni cristiani; essi non lo di-
sprezzerebbero e non lo respingerebbero, oh no, anzi certo lo accoglie-
rebbero per ajnarlo e curarlo. Sta bene, ma e Mania? Potrebb' ella
amare lo storpio dalla gamba di iegno e dalla turpe cicatrice? Il cuore
del giovine era grève, tanto tanto grève.
In paese si sapeva oramai che Michèle tornava ferito. Un compagno
che sapeva scrivcre, lo aveva annunziato per cartolina. Quanto grave
l'ossero le l'erite e in che stato il povero Michèle fosse ridotto, questo
sulla cartolina non ci stava, e cosi nessuno in paese lo sapeva. Tuttavia
la notizia mise tutti quanti in subbuglio. Bisognava vedere ! Si sarebbe
detto che stava per arrivare in persona Sua Eccellenza' il générale Kuro-
patkin, che era pure un cosl famoso capitano. La bella Mania singhioz-
zava come una forsennata, dall' alba alla sera, senza ristare. 11 suo
Michèle le avevano ferito quel traditori miscredenti dei Giapponesi, che
il Signore fulmini e cont'onda, il suo bel Michèle tanto ainato. E solo
squando la magra Katia ebbe osservato, non senza asprezza, che dimo-
trava ben poco sentimento cristiano e un ben tiepido amore quella
tidanzata che piangeva sulle fcrite del suo sposo, invece di rallegrarsi
del suo ritorno come un beato del Paradiso — solo allora ella cessô di
piangere. Il vecchio Leschko se ne consolù tutto e diceva che la sua
ligliuola era un' eroina degna in tutto e per tutto di un eroe. Intanto
tutti <|uanti aspettavano il ritorno di Michèle Lobicki con un' ansia mista
di preoccupazione che andava sempre crescendo.
Ma il ritorno tardava, tardava, oltre ogni limite, l'iii volte Michèle
aveva dovuto interrompere il viaggio e arreslarsi or (|ua or là in (jualche
piccolo villaggio siberiano in attesa di ripartire con un altro treno.
Perché ciô avvenisse, egli non lo sapeva. Erano segreti militari, gli
dicevano. Finalmente, dopo un viaggio tormentosissimo, giunse a Var-
savia. Nuova fermata di tre giorni. In compenso fu presentato a un
ecceltentissimo signor générale, che gli disse moite parole di Iode, e gli
fece dono di alcune pezze d'oro fianimante. Finalmente potè proseguire.
Ma allastazione si recô da un impiegato. Un oscuro senso di timoré, di
vergogna, di dolore lo indusse a pi-egare cpielT illustrissimo signore di
fargli il favore — pagando, s'int(Mide — di spedire un telegramma a
casa sua E cosi fu che Katia Garowicz ricevetle un telegramma del
fratello. In esso le diceva l'ora del suo arrivo e la pregava di non dirne
rmlla a nessuno, ma di venire da sola ad as|)ettarlo alla stazione con un
biroccino. Se un' ora dopo tutto il paese sapeva la notizia non era sol-
tanto per colpa di Katia, sull' anima sua, macientravano anche per qual-
cosetta i signori im])iegati délia posta.
(Continua.)
Federico Werner van Okstéren.
[519] PARTE ITALIANA 87
Il sole.
Verra?... verra? — diceaii, Ira l'erbe, i liori
Levando un po' la testa,
Non appena giunt;ea dei nuovi albori
II poco lume dentro la foresta.
— Verra ? — D'un tralto il sol venia, passando
Corne una freccia d'oro
Ira planta e planta, e ifiorl, palpltando,
Apiiano a lui dei calici il tesoro.
Poi, quando egli spariva e alla loresta
L'ombre non eran rotle \
SuU'erbe i tior chinavano la testa,
A sognare di lui tulta la notte.
Felice Soffrk.
1 . cioè : era buio perfetto.
La composta di prugne.
(CONTliNUAZIONE.)
GioRGiNA. — Presto presto, Carlelto, dimmi, si vede che qui suUa bocca
ho una croce fatta col carboncino ?
Carleïto. — Che dici ? una croce ?
GioRGiNA. — Ma si una croce al carboncino, due segni attraverso la
bocca. Dimmi non si vede ?
Carlktto. — lo non vedo niente.
GiORGiiSA. — Oh povera me!
CAfii.ETTO. — Che vuol dire?
GiORGiNA. — Ecco, la mamma prima di uscire per accertarsi che non
avrei toccato le prugne mi fece una croce al carboncino sulla bocca. Si
vede che soi-bendo il sugo l'iio cancellata.
Cauletto. — Evideiitemenle.
Giorgina. — E adesso corne fare?
Garletto. — Non c'è altro che confessar tutto alla mamma.
Giorgina. — E allora il babbo non mi condurrà più al Circo équestre !
Carletto. — Ohibô laHare è serio. Allora bisogna cercaredi rimediare.
Toh e io che non ci pensavo ! Dam mi un pezzo di carboncino e la croce
te la rifaccio io.
Giorgina. — La mamma l'ha portato via.
Garletto. — Proprio tutto ? Lasciami cercare.
Giorgi.na. — Si cerchiamo, cerchiamo. Oh potessimo trovarne un
pezzetto !
88 PAHTE ITALUNA [5201
Carlutto {con un gridodi gioia). — Eurêka ! '
GiORGLNA. — Ghe liai detto ?
Carletto. — Nienteniente. È iina parola greca. Ma il carboncino è qua.
GiORGiNA. — Davvero ? e allora presto, presto.
Carletto (Ascolta). — Mi par di sentira il passo délia zia sulle scale.
GioRGiNA. — Sbrigati Carletto.
Carletto. — Dunque, tu dici ?
Gi0RGi:<A. — Un segno trasversale aile labbra. Cosi {Indica).
Carletto. — Ecco fatto.
GioRGiMA. — E adesso un'altro in croce.
Carletto. — Cosi, ecco.
{Si âpre la porta. La mamma entra. Carletto fa un passo indietro e
nasconde il carboncino. Giorgina corre incontro alla mamma.)
GioR(;i.NA. — Mammina, niammina, ben tornata !
Mamma {Dà in una risala). — Brava brava la mia signorina !
Giorgina {Tendendo la faccia). — Nevvero, mamma ?
Mamma. — Si puô sapere chi t'ha fatto quello sgorbio - in faccia ?
GiORGLvA. — Sgorbio '? È la croce che m'bai fatta tu per mettermi alla
prova. E vedi... .
Mamma. — Com'è vero che le bugie han le gambe corte
Giorgina [Si confonde). — Le bugie ? che dici ?
Mamma. — Sicuro. E tu la tua la porti su lia faccia grossa cosi .
GiOBGiiSA {Confusa, quasi piangente). — lo ho la croce al carboncino
che m'hai fatto tu.
Mamma. — Che io non li ho fatto.
Giorgina t ^. .i Che non mi hai fatto !
Carletto ) '' ^^' "^^'^ ( Che non le ha fatto !
Mamma. — E che tu avendo la coscienza sporca ti sei fatto da te !
Carletto. — Scusa, zia.
Mamma (A Carletto). — Che c'è di nuovo ?
Carletto. — La croce la Giorgina non se Tè fattada se. Gliel'ho fatta io.
Mamma. — E bravo, signorino, mi rallegro.
Carletto. — Zia, sinceramente : le ero compagno nella colpa, potevo
non aiutarla a cercardi nasconderla ?
Mamma. — Bel modo di ragionare. (.1 Giorgina.) Intanto, signorina, già
sapete quel che vi tocca. il Circo e(juestre partira senza aver ricevuta la
vostra visitta.
Gio^Gis A (piange). — Oh mamma, mamma.
Mamma. — Anche piangere, adesso ! I miei complimenti, (A Carletto).
Quanto a voi bel cavalière, la vostra impresa è linita. Potete andarvene.
Carle'ito. — Buon giorno, zia. Addio, Giorgina, e l'atti coraggio. Che
vuoi farci ? Non lutte le ciambelle riescono col buco -^ e non tutte le Cro-
ciale coUsL liberazione del Santo Sepolcro. Bisogna aver pazienza,
anche per quello vero i nobili guerrieri prima di riuscire ci si son dovuti
metlere per tante volte !
AWE.
1. ho trovato. È la célèbre parola di Aichimede. — 3. macchia, segnaccio. —
3. proverbio.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 12.
20 Mars 1908.
8« Année.
PARTE ITALIANA
Due missioni femminili.
Cosî s'intitolala conferenza che Ada Negri, la forte poetessa di Falalilà e di ^]ate)■■
nità, tenne in Toriiio iiella seconda meta di febbraio. Non potendola pubi)licare
intera ne riporteremo qui i brani essenziali.
V'è un ricordo della mia lontana adolescenza, che è rimasto neiranima
mia corne un sigillo : che mi sta
présente alla memoria in ogni con-
torno, in ogni rilievo, in ogni sfunia-
tura di liice e di ombra, e che io
amo.
E' lin ricordo d'ospedale. C'era
iina volta — pare nna storiella
di fate^ non è vero ? — c'era nna
volta nna fanciulla pallida, che la
dura vita aveva resa parca' di parole,
tiera negli atti ; ma di fibra sana e
resistenle sotto nna gracile apparenza
nervosa. Questa adolescente era assai
povera ; e sua madré, che lavorava
in una fabbrica, ogni tanto si amma-
lava e doveva essere condotta all'-
ospedale.
Ora, due volte per settimana, la
fanciulla andava a trovare sua madré ;
e le infermiere e i medici, che la sape-
vano cosi sola e la vedevano cosi grave,
le permettevano di restare tutta la
giornata, qualche volta, anche la sera.
La bruna piccola crealura non aveva
timoré ne ribrezzo délie tristi visioni
che quella casa di dolore le presen-
tava. Le lunghe crociere blanche, le
invetriate azznrre o grigie secondo il
colore del cielo, i vi.si scarni contorti,
deturpati, accesi o cadaverici, abban-
donati sui guanciali dei letti in fila, le
tabelline^ di lavagna, nere, coU'inesorabile nome délia malattia scrilto a
capoletto di ciascun infermo, ogni apparenza, ogni fornfia, ogni oggetto di
quel luogo le era famigliare.
Le persisteva nelle narici, vorrei dire nella memoria olfaltica, l'odore che.
Ada ISe(4bi et la figlia.
l. scarsa, misurata.
[71]
2. le tavolette.
ITAL. 12
90 PARTE ITALIANA [562]
malgrado la diligente aereazione, resta negli ospedali : un misto di docotto
d'orzo, di iodoformio e di médicinal!, caratterislico. Talvolla, avvicinandosi
al letlo della madré vedeva nno dei letli vicini liitto chiuso da corlinaggi
blanchi : c'era iina morta, che fra qualche ora sarebbe stata portata via.
Cosi, essa fece amicizia colla morte. Voile anche entrare nella stanza
mortixaria ; e vide i cadaveri rigidamente distesi sul suolo bagnato, e quella
impassibilità serena le fece intuire la bellezza della morte, che per lei fu
sinonimo di pace.
Qiiando rimaneva, la sera, sednta al capezzale materno, vedeva a poco a
poco accendersi i lumi nella crociera, e assopirsi lenlamente gii infermi. In
fondo alla sala un altare era rischiaralo, ove stava ira i fiori una Madonna
dalle setle spade : strani volti lividi si levavano a tratti dai ciiscini, per vol-
gere a quella Madonna una preghiera disperata : 0 Maria Santa, aiutatemi
voi!.... — I tifosi vaneggiavano, gli asmatici ansimavano, i malati di cuore
se ne stavano sediiti sul lelto per respirar meglio, gli aggravât! rantola -
vano. — La pallida adolescente, assorla, awezza a quelle spettacolo, osser-
vava, fra quei letti, il leggero e instancabile andare e venire délie infermiere.
Le suore colle loro tuniche nere e i visini chiusi nelle cuffiette candide, le
laiche nella loro uniforme azzurrû, parevano a lei lutte uguali nell'espres-
sione serena e dolceche sapevano conservare anche di fronte aile più stra-
zianti scène. Avevano un nome ?... Avevano un'età ?... dei do'ori, dei desi-
derii personali, deile gioie, dei disinganni ?...
Questo non potevacredere la fanciulla, che vedeva in loro crealurediverse
da tutte leallre, staccate dal mondo, corne approdate aWaltrariva, a lutto
insensibili meno che ai loro infermi.
Un giorno d'estate, uscendo dall'ospedale col cuore stretlo, ella non oso
tornare alla casa vuota. La piazzetta splendeva di sole : il sole bruciava
l'erba crescente fra le antiche piètre, awampava sulle graniticbe muraglie
délie case, sulla facciala bassa e austera dell'ospedale, e incoronava di
gloria la mole, di purissimo stile longobardo, dei tempio di San Francesco.
Il cielo d'un azzurro di gemma, intenso e lisso, rideva attraverso le bifore^
délie due lori-i. — Ora présente, fino alla morte, nella memoria : ora di
pienezza, di forza, di silenzio adorante. La fanciulla guardô il tempio, guardô
il sole, pensô a sua madré, e disse a se stessa, ardendo e languendo : lo sarô
medichessa od infermiera.
Dopo aver delto com'ella non potè diventare ne l'una ne l'altra, Ada Negri passa
a parlare ieWin fermier a, in cul si compie La prima délie missioni femminili :
. . La cura di^gli infermi !. . . Tutto nella gracile e pur fortissima natura
femminile si presta per taie missione, pare creato a lai fine. La dolcezza, la
pazienza, il passo leggero, i movimenti delicati, le piccolc mani agiii e carez-
zevoli, la resistenza nervosa per la quale la donna puô vegliare notti intere
presse un capezzale, senza risentirne troppa starichezza.
Labimbacheha ricevulo in dono la prima hambola, istinlivanicnte le
forma un letto col primo cuscino che trova, tinge che sia malata, e le som-
ministra, con infinité cure, una medicina chessa si è fabbricata con un po'
d'acqua in una chicchei'a rolta.
Servire in libertà : laie mi pare, nella sua estrinsecazione'* piii umile e
faticosa, nel suo significato spiriluale più alto la sintesi della missione dell'-
infermiera.
La sua missione è composta di torhidi e lerribili elemenli, che spaventereb-
bero le gaie e fragili donnine eleganti.
L'infermiera guarda in faccia, ad ogni ora, lo spasimo e la morte. Conoscc
il fetore dei fiati corrotti, délie piaghe innominabili, délie secrezioiii mar-
ciose. Ella veglia, silenziosa ed agile come un'ombra, sui lelarghi già quasi
3. flneslra a due aperture divise da uno colonnino. — 4. manil'estazione.
[563] PAKTE ITALIANA 91
cadaverici, suUe spasraodiche agonie, sui riposi rigeneratori délie convale-
scenze, sugli incubi lerrificanti dei malali di nervi e di cuore. Ella vede la
verità sul viso di chi muore, e ode parole di verità dalle bocche che stanno
per irrigidirsi. Nessiin basso uflicio la umilia, nessun trislo spettacolo la
spaventa, nessuna fatica le par grave. A poca distanza dalla casa di dolore
ove essa vive per consolare, ondeggia e niugge la scintillante fiumana délie
ambizioni, di tutto ciô che è lornia ed espressionc di giovinezza, di vita,
d'illusione, e dura un giorno e crede di dnrare eterno. L'infermiera ha dimen-
ticato tutto questo è alTahra riva : le créature che ora, là fuori, si dibattono
ridendo, amando, odiando, fra luci illusorie e vane figurazioni di piacere,
domani saranno forse dinanzia lei, disfatte dal maie, ignude suUa soglia dei
mistero, sincère, finalmente, nella loro miseria. . . ed ella le potrà confortare
con una carezza, con una dolce parola : e nulla, nuUa giungerà più avida-
mente dcsiderato, aile loro labbra livide, del sorso d'acqua oft'erto dalle sue
pure mani.
Quindi Ada Negri passô a dire delta seconda missions femminile: quella di visitare e
assistera i carcerati. Anche qui la donna pu5 esercitare una missione di amore, pu6
e deve essere infi'rmiera. Non per sport iimanitario, non per portare il biscottino ai
prigionieri, ma per discendere nelle loro anime, scovare i loro errori e gettarvi un
semé di redenzione. A questo proposito evoeô alcune nobili figure di donne :
E vi penso Louise André, la morta di ieri, Tangelica fondatrice dell'Asilo
di Redenzione in Firenze. Liberati dal carcere, vagabond! sorvegliati dalla
polizia, ladruncoli e peggio, potevano liberameiite enlrare nella dolce Casa.
Andava lei stessa a cercarli, sulla porta dei penitenziarii, nelle bettole, pei
quadrivii-', Bionda, giovane, con occhi azzurri che sapevano guardare il maie
in viso senza perdere nulla délia loro purezza infantile, bella di una bellezza
fragile che si accentuava nella bocca e nel mento, meltendovi un segno di
volonlà, di tenacia, Louise André fu la pia sorella de' suoi barabba ^, di tutti
i barabba e i disperati di Firenze. Francese di sangue, ma italiana d'elezione,
nata missionaria corne Miss Florence iNightingale nacque infermiera, ella,
cosi come le infermiere non hanno ribrezzo délie piii raccapriccianti piaghe
corporali, non temeva di toccare con niano le più mostruose piaghe niorali,
anzi, le cercava, le metteva a nudo, per guarirle. Tutti le volevano bene i
suoi birbanti : anche i più depravati. Nessuno osô insultarla, nessuno disob-
bedirle. Una luce emanava da lei, che abbagliava anche i ciechi.
Mori a treutasette anni, la scorsa primavera in una sala comune delFospe-
dale di Firenze.
Noi non abbiamo visto le lagrime che da occhi sfuggenti, subdoli ' stanchi
0 feroci sgorgarono per la sua morte. — lo penso che furono molte^ e furono
le sole che la Donna gentile desidero ed ebbe care nella tomba : ma il monu-
mento più nobile e più degno le fu eretto, la sera stessa del giorno in cui
ella spirava, da cinque ladruncoli del suo Rifugio di Redenzione, i quali
giurarono solennemente innonie délia '< mala vita» ^, per reudere il yiuramento
infrangibile, di non rubare più, poichè Louise André non io voleva....
Oh, in ({uella raffinata crudeltà di solitudine che è la segregazione cellu-
lare, ove ogni ora, ogni minuto che passa è come ilcolpo secco di un mar-
tello sul cranio del recluso, — ove l'anima ha tutto il tempo di ripiegarsi
sopra se stessa, di contorcersi, di aggrovigliarsi » fra le maglie spasmodiche
del ricordo, del rimorso, délia paura, del desiderio, délia follia — nella
grigia monotona tristezza délie infermerie carcerarie, ove sui letti di do-
lore pesa più grave l'angoscia délia vita irreparabilmcnte mancata — neicame-
roni ove qualchc voila i giovinetti detenuti sono posli insieme, e zampilla
nei loro discorsi (volutamente forse e per soffocare un sentimento segreto),
un getto di fango e di sangue — quai semé di bontà, di pentimento, di
5. incrocio di vie. — 6. parola del gergo = malviventi. — ~. falsi. — 8. è l'asso-
ciazione dei delinquenti ; a iNapoli si chiama cainorra. — 9. avvilupparsi.
92
PARTE ITAIJANA
[564]
dignità nuova, di speranza puô geltare la parola, Topera di iina donna ! . . . .
Che indicibile beneficio puô portare una simile influenza, una simile prote-
zione, durante la prigionia e dopo 1 . .
Ma bisogna vivere cuore a cuore col condannato, o la condannata, pene-
trarne l'anima ignuda, illuminarne l'oscura inquiétante psicologia, risalire
aile cause, darsi insomma, darsi completaraente. Per Tinfermiera dei corpi
corne per l'infermiera délie anime, il segreto dello scopo raggiunto è
questo.
E' da questa profonda ragione che tante vite consacratc ad una missione
attingono una armonia cosi luminosa, una bellezza cosi idéale. Darsi : tanto
che, a vila compiuta, ogni forza nostra ablna raggiunto quella forma per-
fetta e quella perfetta sostanzadi estrinsecazione, che non puo morire.
^^ Ada Negri.
La Cupola*.
È nolte, la nolte de' morti.
Entro la chiesa parrocchiale,
ai cupi rintocchi risorti
dal sonno funerale,
escono gli antichi sepolti
dall'urno, dal monumento
marmoreo, escon foiti
dalle lastre del pavimento,
dalle cappelle, dai fianchi
del pulpito e dcU'altare,
e salgon gli scheletri blanchi,
con un ronzio d'alveare,
lungo i pilastri, pe' fogliami
de' capitelli,su frontespici,
Vedi la parte francese.
per le vôlte, salgono a scianii,
corrono per le cornici
verso il gran giro vancggiante
délia cupola : in gruppi tetri
si solFermano un istante,
s'affacciano a' lattei vetri,
e ascendono ancora all'anguslo
foro délia lanterna. Un vetro
è rotto : con muto trambusto
fuori si gittano, e dietro
ai primi la fol la bramosa
di cielo libero. Incerto
ristà qualcuno e non osa
poi sbucan tutti alTaperto.
{Segue.)
Giulio Orsini '.
(Domenico Gnoli.)
1. chiaro poeta viveiite autore délie
Odi Tiberine, Fret terra ed astri, Jaco-
vella e altre raccolte di Uriche.
Nel primo anniversario délia morte di Carducci.
11 16 febbraio fu il primo anniversario délia morte del Carducci. Giornali e riviste,
ricordando la data, dedicarono moite pagine al poeta e qua e Là vennero fuori lettere
inédite e interessanti particolari biografici. Ne raccogliamo alcuni.
Dal Giornale d'Iialia — brano d'une lettera del Carducci inviata a un
amico nel 1888, all'indomani del grande discorso pronunciato a Bologna
neU'Arcbiginnasio per l'otlavo cenlenario di quella gloriosa Univcrsità.
« De' niiei trionfi com'Ella li chiama, vuol che Le dica qualche cosa per
saziare la curiosilà sua ? Finito il discorso, il He mi chiamo a se, e mi disse
(ma Ella non lo dica a ncssuno che stampi). — La ringrazio vivaniente, cor-
dial mente. Molli bei discorsi ho sentito ; ma non mai ho udito cosi nobili
sentimenti cosi nobilmente espressi. La ringrazio di nuovo, corne figlio e
[565J PARTE ITALIA^A 93
corne Re. Del resto, siamo d'accordo. — E mi strinse sei o sette volte la
mano dirimpelto ai rappresentanti del mondo. La Regina mi disse : — Ilsiio
discorso fii di iina magia poLente. Sa che a tratti mi fece tremare '? Ella se
ne sarà accorto. — Non voile dire che l'avevo fatta piangere, col tôcco di
Superga '. E la Regina non raosse mai occhio da me per lutta i'ora che par-
lai. Il Principe anche lui, zitto zitto, mi strinse la mano. La Regina, del
resto, è una grande gentildonna, mollo gentile, molto séria e che parla bene
di moite cose e che altre cose moite fa seriamente. Bisognava senlirla pas-
sare di cerchio in cerchiodi professori, parlando tedesco, inglcse, spagnolo,
e tîno, povera donna ! danese. Un professore tedesco mi disse : — La vostra
Regina parla il tedesco con accento ed eleganza che non hanno le signore
sassoni. »
Il 1870 fu per Giosuè Carducci un anno terribile : esso gli rapi dapprimala
madré veneranda che « gli aveva insegnato a leggere Altieri e non gli aveva
inculcata la superstizione », e gli rapipoi il figlio Dante, natogli appena tre
anni prima, cosi intelligente « che pareva per l'età un miracolo ». Di qiiesti
due decessi scrisse il Carducci all'amico prof. Ferdinando Cristiani e le due
leltere veggono ora per la prima voila la hice nel Carrière Toscano, comuni-
cate dal Cristiani stesso. Detlodel grande dolore per la perdita della madré,
aggiungeva : '^ lo mi sono un po' sfogato colTEpodo Per Giovanni Cairoli,
il quale pare sia stato corne una specie di fulmine che ha lasciato attonita
certa gente e qui (a Bologna) e a Firenze e altrove. » Ma un vero grido gli
escedall'animo quando in una leltei-a successiva ei scrive del bimbo « morto
di un travaso al cervello dopo una mezz'ora di urla orribili ». « Quando lo
vedevo — cosi si sfogava il poeta coU'amico — pareva che si levasse il sole
nell'anima mia : quando mi sLringevo fra le braccia la sua testina, dimenti-
cavo lutto il maie che mi era d'inlorno e non senti vo che amore. Avevo avvi-
ticchiato '^ intorno a lui lutte le mie speranze, tulle le mie gioie, lutta la mia
vila ! Oh, che slrappo del mio cuore ! » « No, non è vero, che è meglio che
sia morto : me lo volevo crescere ed educare a modo mio, doveva sentire,
pensare, lotlare anche lui per il bene e per il vero. No, no : scambiare in sul
primo entrar della vila l'avvenire dell'esistenza per l'oscurilà del non
essere 3 non è bene » L'agonia del bimbo durô tre nolti ; quando fu chiu-
sa dalla morte, il poêla cercava sfoghi non conforli. « Scrivimi, caro Fer-
dinando — ei diceva — scrivi subito ; ma non ti provare a consolarmi ;
dimmi che ho fallo una gran perdita... »
Sécrétant rammcmora nella Rivista di Roina una visita di Carducci nel
giugno 1889 agli studenli di Padova che l'avevano convitato alla birraria del
Bassanello. Locali egiardini eran zeppi di studenli fra cui Carducci apparve
accompagnalo da Guide Mazzoni. Ai brindisi Carducci si alzô e cominciô
dicendo : Signori ! ; ma gli parve troppo freddo e aggiunse : Studenli ! ; ma
non senti ancora signiticato inleramente l'animo suo e allora aggiunse, bat-
tendo le mani sul tavolo : Figli ! con impeto cosi franco e con tanlo affetto
che la parola bastô da sola a una esplosione di grida riconoscenti. Poi conli-
nuô salulando in quel giovani « la prioiavera del popolo italiano » finchè
giunse a quesla grande sintesi patriotlica : « I segnacoli ^ del progresse d'Ila-
lia si chiamano, nella conquisla del metodo e del cielo, Galileo ; nella con-
quista della terra e dei mezzi, Voila ; e, salendo piii alto, perché la dignilà
umana è la più alla cosa dei mondi, le storie d'Ilalia si chiamano, nell'idea
nel pensiero e nel dovere, Mazzini ; neU'azione péril diritlo, Garibaldi ; ed
anche — diciamo lutto — nella Iradizione dinaslica, Vittorio Emanuele :
1. alla flne del discorso il Carducci evocava la figura di Vittorio Emanuele e la sua
tomi)a del Panthéon, ricordando Superga, presso Torino, antico sepolcreto di Casa
Savoia. — 2. avvinto, annodato- — 3. cioè : scambiare fin dal principio della vita l'es-
sere col non essere. — 4. segni.
94 PARTE ITALIANA [5661
nella diplomazia europea, Cavour. » — Fa un delirio ; Guido Mazzoni si
commosse fino al pianto e nella emozione stringeva a tratti la mano del
Oardiicci iraprimendolc dei baci e poi stringeva le mani agli stndenti viciai.
Morte eroica*.
IV
Quasi tutti coloro che avevanoassistitoalla partenza di Michèle Lobicki
erari li ad attendere il suoritorno. Gon che emozione ed impazienza fosse
aspettato il giovane eroe che aveva versato per la patria il suo buon san-
gue veriniglio, non si puo dire. Dall'agitazione Katia aveva financo
dimenticata la preghiera relativa al carrozzino ; ella stessa era accorsa a
piedi. Solo Gianni Leschko colla bella figliuola era venuto in un'elegante
giardiniera dipinta di giallo, inibottita con cuscini di tieno rivestiti di
cuoio. Mania tremava per tutta la persona; un moinento era pallida, ma
cosî pallida, Gesù buono, corne fosse di cera, e l'istante appresso cosi
rossa corne se la colorisse il sangue che il suo Michèle aveva versato. Il
vecchio Leschko, in realtà, non era meno agitato di lei ; ma a nessun
costo avrebbe voluto darlo a divedere, Dio ne liberi !
Infatti aveva saputo darsi un'aria perfettamente tranquilla : parlava il
meno possibile e non si toglieva la pipa di bocca, avvolgendosi in litte
nuvole di fumo. Gaspare Garowicz si mise a l'are altrettanto, provandone
viva sodisfazioiie. Tanto, era cosi sciocco che non gli riusciva quasi mai
di parlare senza farsi strapazzare da Katia. In compenso chiacchieravano
tutti gli altri, tutti quelli che aspettavanocuriosamentee neghittosamente,
e tanto più quanto più tacevano i quattro individui intimamente legati
a Michèle. Talvolta anzi il frastuono si faceva tant'ulto che il capo-sta-
zione era costretto a invitarli cortesemente ma severamente di tener a
casa la lingua.
Final mente il treno apparve ; esso veniva innanzi pian piano e il suolo
ne tremava. Ma più forte ancora tremava Mania, sicchè dovette appog-
giarsi al padre con tulto il suo peso, per non cadere. Un sibilo prolun-
gato e le ruote si arrestarono. Allora la schiera degli aspettanti proruppe
in un grido, un grido cosi forte che non si era mai inteso il simile. Accla-
mavano senza pausail nomedi colui che tornava e frammezzo si udivano
1 gridi di : « Yiva ! n — « Benarrivato ! » — « La JVIadonna ti bene-
dica !» — « Viva il nostro eroe ! »
(Segue.)
Federico Werner van Oesïéren.
Vedi le altre quattro parti.
[567 J PARTK ITAI.IANA 9o
Una rarità bibliografica.
L'edizione giapponese di " Cuore ,,.
La cortesia di Edmondo De Amicis ci ha coiicesso di esaminare un
curioso dociimento délia diffiisione mondiale di quel mirabile librocheè il
Cuore, documento clie è nello stesso tempo testimonianza dell'ardore
febbi'ile con oui il piccolo popolo del Sol Levante assimila la coltura
occidentale. Questa edizione giapponese di Cuore, deve avère già qualche
anno di data, secondo quanto ci disse il De Amicis stesso, che la ebbe
ora soltanto, ed è molto curiosa. E' in due volumi, stampata su carta di
seta con copertina a colori e illiistrazioni.
H titolo è natural mente, secondo l'uso giapponese, in fondo al volume.
Il nome del De Amicis e quello del volume sono espressi in geroglitici
che l'autore stesso ha osservato con molta compiacenza ma senza poterli
penetrare più che per supposizione... Si sa perù che il volume ha per
titolo : Dal diario di uno scolaro (Cuore). —
Data l'intangibilità ' del testo, la nostra curiosità si ripiega naturalmentc
sulle illustrazioni. Curiosa fra tutte è la prima nella quale sono i dodici
ritratti dei protagonisti. I piccoli personaggi italiani sono stati trasformati
in piccoli giapponesi con gli occhi a mandorla e il naso schiacciato, ma
conservando certi caratteri fisici : cosi sono facilmente riconoscibili il
Gohhino, il mvso di lèpre, Garrone... E tali ricompaiono nelle illustra-
zioni, nelle quali l'intluenza dei disognatori europei si intégra ^ colle
caratteristiche tendenze gratiche dell'artc nipponica. E l'illustre autore
si è compiâciuto nel riconoscere sotto quelle vesti, le piccole créature a
lui care, che ha inviato pel mondo, e che negli idiomi più diversi e sotto
i cieli più lontani, sanno suscitare una commozione che non ha vincoli
di nazionalilà e di costumi poichè fondata sulle verità immanenti^ del
cuore umano...
(Dalla Stampa.)
1. Intangiliile^^ che non sipuô toccare, fenetrare. — 2. si compléta. — 3. che per-
mangono nguali dovunqne, in qualunqiie tempo.
I nostri emigranti giudicati da un francese.
Anatole Leroy-Beaulieu in un articolo délia Revue hebdomadaire
riassunto dalla <■ JVlinerva » parlando deU'ostilità americana per gli immi-
granti, specie italiani, osservache questi non solo non sono inferiori per
intelligenza aile popolazioni che hanno prima colonizzato il suolo ame-
ricano, ma appartengono ai popoli più intelllgenli d'Europa e l'avvenire
saprà dimostrarlo aiicheagli americani. Sono, inoltre, dei buoni lavora-
tori : e un paese nuovo, che ha bisogno di mano d'opéra abbondante,
96 PARTE ITALIANA [568]
deve lasciar libero adito all'ilaliano, che di tutti gli uomini di razza
bianca è qiiello che più facilmente si rassegna ai lavori gravosi. Si rim-
provera loro di essere troppo economi, troppo sobri, di spendere troppo
poco. Gli americani amano ripetere che gritaliani costano caro, perche
spediscono annualmente qiialche milione di dollari in patria. Ma qiiesti
milioni — dice il Leroy-Beaiilieii — gli opérai italiani li hanno faticosa-
mente guadagnati col loro lavoro : sono le loro braccia che hanno falto
crescere la produzione degli Stati Uniti...
Nolerelle di Storia naturale.
La mutilazione negli animali.
Si dice e si crede che il sorcio, quando è trattenuto prigioniero per la
coda soltanto, si décida a sagrificare qnesta sna appendice, tagliandola
eroicamente coi denti, e riacquisti cosi la sua libertà. Pero è stato recen-
temente dimostrato che questo sacrilicio non è cosi radicale: il sorcio
campagnuolo délia propria coda non abbandona che la pelle ; ma la coda
poi, priva délia sua guaina', in pochi giorni si dissecca e cade. Sono pa-
recchigli animali che dannoesempio, volontario oinvolontario, di questa
scissione di sèda una parte di se. Nelle comatule, animali marini ibrmati
da dieci ramificazioni sottili unité ad un nucleo centrale, basta eccitar
questo nucleo per veder cadere poco per volta tutti gli esili bracci.
Anche le stelle di mare, perdono con grande facilita i loro raggi ; questi,
pero, continuano a vivere e dànno origine a nnovi bracci. Certe lumache
délie isole Filippine sfuggonoai loro nemici, che le tengono alTerrate per
l'estremità del picde, slaccandosi daessocon movimeuti convulsi. Di più
facile constatazione è il caso dei granchi. Basta afferrare un granchio per
una gamba, stringendola e pizzicandola, perché l'animale l'abbandoni a
suo nemico, scappando alla megliocon le zampe che gli restano; e questo
sino al distacco completo di tutte e dieci le zampe. Qnalche naturalista
nega che ci5 avvenga per volontà dell'animale ed attribuisce il singolare
fenomeno a un effetto délia irritazione nervosa prodotta dall'animale; e
questoè vero, maèanche vero — ricorda ErnestoMancini nellaM??e?-t'a —
che esperimenti recenlissimi hanno constatato, accanto a questo fenomeno
nervoso, anche il fenomeno volontario.
1, fodera, involucro, gaine.
Les Cinq Langues
No 13.
5 Avril 1908
8^ Année.
PARTE ITALIANA
La morte di Edmondo De Amicis.
Edmondo De Amicis si è spento a Bordighera i' 11 Marzo. La notizia si è
diffusa rapidamente per lutta Ualia suscitando dovunqiie una larga eco di
dolore.
A Bordighera l'nnico figlio desolalo e gli amici piii intiini ne lian vegliato
la salma, l'han coperta di fiori, l'han
composta nella bara per l'utimo soiino.
E il bel cielo e il bel sole délia Liguria
che sessantadue anni or sono avevano
sorriso alla sua nascita, han salutato
ora il carro coperlo di gramaglie che
portava via il figlio grande e glorioso.
A ïorino, sua città di elezione da
tanti anni, egli è giunto la mattina del
14 Marzo. Tiitla la citlà era accorsa a
dare al suo poêla l'eslremo saluto,
lutta la città : i ricchi come i poveri, i
grandi come i piccoli, il magistrato e
lo scienzialo come l'operaio.
Involontariamente davanli a quella
foUa immensa, compatta, silenziosa
che s'era premula lungo il percorso
lunghissimo del corleo, ho pensato ai
funerali di Teodoro Dostoïewski.
E non ho volulo esaminare e va-
gliare, come fecero in questi giorni
parecchi giornali, i meriti piii o nieno
grandi de! letterato, il valore délia sua lingua. Ho sentito solo la sua anima,
l'anima grande ch'egli ha versato a flutli suirumanità, piangendo dei suoi
dolori, soifrendo dclle sue pêne, commovendosi di ogni sua bontà, di ogni
sua gentilezza, di ogni suo eroismo.
Cuore egli ha intitolato il più grande dei suoi libri, quello conlro cui non
valse ne freddezza sislemalica di giudizio, ne rigidezza di critica, quello che
ha forzato tiitte le dighe, è entrato in lutte le famiglie di qualunque strato
sociale, ha strappato lutte le lagrime— Cwore. Ma lutta la sua opéra fu cuore,
sia ch'egli abbia scrillo dei piccoli soldali o degli ufficialetti smarriti nella
gran compagine deU'esercito, degli opérai pigiali nelle officine o nelle
enormi case dei suburbii, dei bambini eroici, martiri dell'amor di patria o
dell'amor figliale.
Col cuore egli ha vislo ogni dolore, col cuore ha giudicato ogni anima,
e non solo nel bene, ma anche nella colpa, neU'abbrutimento, neU'ultima
abiezione. Percio egli ci fatlo piangere, ha forzato al pianto anche i più
reslii, percio da lutta la sua opéra si sprigiona quelTarcano senso di solida-
rieta umana.
E'.lmondo de Amicis.
[77]
ITAL. 13
98 PARTE ITALIANA [610]
Cuore, bontà — tulta la sua opéra è in queste parole, ma anche lutta la
sua vita, una vita tersa', monda, nohile che derivo ogni sua gioia dall'af-
fetto : l'affetto per gli amici, l'affetto per la madré veneranda, l'affetto pei
(igli^ i due birichini che egli « si laceva recare in letto ogni mattina » e
di cai uno poi doveva piegare corne pallido giacinto, in sui vent'anni, la-
sciando il cuore del padre piagato per sempre.
Questo il popolo sa, questo han sentiLo le infinité anime che han palpitato
sulle pagine dei suoi libri ; da ciô gli venne in vita quel largo plebiscito
d'amore per cui da paesi lontani gli giungcvano lettere, lettere di grandi, di
sofferenti, di derelitti, ma soprattutto di bimbi che lurono il supremo amore
délia sua vita e gli essenziali protagonisti délia sua opéra ; — da ciô gli venne
in morte quel gran pianto del popolo, e non d'Italia soltanto.
E da ciô gli verra Timmortalità, l'immortalità vera, cioè Feterno addive-
nire, la fecondità perenne délia semente buona gettata ncl cnore degli
uomini.
Barbara Allasoîs-Wick.
CEN.XO BIOGRAFICO
Le opère principali del De Amicis sono : Bozzelti militari, le Novelle ; i
volumi di viaggi : Olancla, Marocco, Costantinopoli, Parigi, Spagna, Sull'O-
ceano ; Aile porte d'italia, libro nobilissimo di tradizioni storiche e leggende
patrie ; Cuore ; altri numerosi libri di ambiente scolaslico {Il Romanso d'un
yiaestro, La Maestrina degli Opérai ecc.) Uldioma gentile, bel libi'O che
tratta di questioni di lingna italiana; La Carrozza di tutti, Le Pagine allègre,
ecc. — e un volume di poésie.
Edmondo de Amicis era nato a Oneglia il 21 ottobrc 1846, nogli anni giova-
nili fu ufficiale, poi lasciô Tesercito pci- la lettcratura.
Era laboriosissimo ; scriveva regolarmente moite ore ogni giorno, e, ter-
miriato un libro, subito si accingeva a meditarne c scriverne un altro. Menava
vita ritirata e tranquilla ; le ore di riposo dava alla famiglia e agli amici. Il
suo studio era adorno dolle fotografie di lutli i maggiori letterati e dei più
insigni uomini del niondo, fregiati dalle dedichc piii affettuosee lusinghiere.
Ma nonostante la larga lama il De Amicis era modestissimo e nemico acerrimo
di ogni forma chiassosa di celebrità. Negli ultimi anni aveva volto l'animo
aile idée socialistichc, non per ispirito di parlito, ma per naturale bontà
(l'animo, (;he lo portava ad amare i disercdati e gli infelici.
Undici anni fa fii colpito dalla sventura che gli amareggiô il reto delbi vita ;
il figlio Furio, il primogenito, bello, buono, intelligente, si suicidô a
vent'anni. . , Da quel giorno il poeta non fu piii lui; porto nella vita e
nel lavciro, la piaga sempre aperla, e il bel volto franco e marziale, illuminato
(lagli occhi chiari e coronalo dalla chioma bianca leonina non si aperse al
sorriso mai più. Possa aver egli ritrovata ora la siui pacc !
R.A.-W.
1. li m pilla.
Bontà.
(Ad un amico.
1
Quella bontà che nel mio cor rinviene
La beir anima tua lervida e pia,
Non è che un' amorosa cortesia,
La cortesia delT anime serene.
[611] PARTE n'ALlA!\A 99
E' una boiità che dnl voler non viene,
E' un istinto di pace e d'armonia,
E' una dolcezza che la inadre inia
Mi trasfuse nell' ossa e nelle vene .
E non è mia virtù, ma mio destino,
Non merta ' il nome benedetto e santo
A oui la fronte revereiite iiichino ;
Ho l'indulgeiiza, la dolcezza, il pianto
Corne ha il trillo gentile il cardellino.
La mia bontà, dilettoamico, è un canto.
II
Ah, chi attlisse e feri l'anima mia
0 nei begli anni dell' età ridente
0 neir età che in lotte aspre e cruente
La gentilezza del perdon s'obblia,
Yenga venga da me quakinque sia
La sua fede, il suo nome e la sua mente,
Yenga superbo o triste o sorridente,
E incontrerà il mio bacio per la via.
Yenga da me in un giorno di dolore,
Mi troverà una lacrima negli occhi
Ed un fraterno palpito nel core;
E stringerè il suo capo sul mio petto.
E gli porro i miei bimbi sui ginocchi
E sarà benvenuto e benedetto.
Edmondo De Amicis.
1. mérita.
Siviglia.
Belle caselte bianche e cesellate
Che sembran chiuse dentro a un vel di trine
E mostrano i cortili a colonnine
Dietro ai cancelli de le porte arcate ;
E per le vie ridenti e profumate,
Tra gli alti aranci, dietro aile tendine,
Un bisbiglio d' uccellie di donnine
Clie hanao bocche di bimbe e pie'di fate,
E per tutto zampilli e palme e fiori,
E un' auretta di pace e d' allegri'a,
Ed un immenso ciel terso e tranquillo,
i . pizzo.
100 PAHTE ITALIANA 16121
Ecco Siviglia, antico amor dei Mori,
Regina de la bella Andalusia,
E madré di ïraiano e di Murillo.
Edmondo De Amicis.
Carducci*.
Il 15 marzo, a Parigi, al Collegio di Francia, fu celebrata in onore di Carducci iina
cerimonia ccmmemorativa organizzata dallTnione délie Società latine. Jules Bois, uno
degli oratori délia cerimonia, ha riassunto cosî nel Matin l'influenza italiana e mon-
diale del Carducci :
Giosue Carducci, di cui si coronô ieri il busto al Collegio di Francia
davanli a un pubblico entusiasmalo, è il maggiore dei poeti italiani moderni.
Bisogna risalire Hno a Dante per trovargli un eguale. La sua popolarità
oltr' Alpi è superiore a quelia di Victor Hugo qui da noi. Infatti artisti e pro-
l'essori, grandi e umili nulrono per lui la slessa venerazione.
Benchè morto, egli incarna la patria nuova ; egli sofferse e combatte per
la giovane Italia, e per spingerla alTazione le oanlô il nostro Ça ira. Il suo
hmo a Satana, cioè allaragione, alla materia, alla vita, produsse uno scandalo
che non è ancora sopito. iNella lingua piîi forte c piii pura egli ha espresso
le idée sonnecchianti nel cervello del popolo che, muto, lavora soffre pro-
duce e sa amare.
Vanamente cercherebbesi nella sua opéra la traccia d'una mollezza, d'una
perversilà, d'una degenerazione : questo robusto non fu mai un malsano.
Se per riposarsi dalle lotte politiche e dalle febbri del pensiero, egli ha can-
tate « la bianca Lidia, fior de l'anima, fior del desiderio », e il suo dolce
amore nel placido vespero, gli è che l'ebbrezza dei cuori e délie labbra,
quando la renda poetica l'interno enlusiasmo, è ancora una virtù.
Egli era tenero e selvaggio. Da giovane, sludenle, amava passeggiar soli-
tario tenendo al guinzaglio un lupo addomesticato. Ma non è vera dolcezza
che quelia dell'uomo forte : questo democrat.ico, questo repubblicano con-
sacro imo dei suoi più squisiti poemi ad una regina. Egli ignorava le basse
superstizioni del fanalismo e, anche sul trono, salulava la bellezzae la bontà.
Egli aveva la fede, la fede laica, la fede umana. Egli credette nella vita e
nella gioia, egli credette soprattutto nell'intlussodinamico esplosivo del pen-
siero, nella « forza vindice délia ragionc. »
La potenza délia verità e délia sincerità è si grande che oggidi anche gli
antichi avversari del Carducci gl'intreccian corone. Gli è che, gloriticatore
délia democrazia, non ne fu mai il cortigiano ; innamorato délia vita, non
ne voile cogliere chei frutti più nobili ; entusiasta délia liberlà, le impose i
più alti doveri ; profeta delTumanità, non fu abbagliato dalle sciocche utopie
che si spacciano in suo nome. In mezzo all'universale belato dei vili e dei
frolli, egli protesté contro le teorie pacifiste. La sua voce rude e selvaggia,
in un inno dettalo in determinatacircostanza, cantô la lotta che rende virili,
l'eroismo il quale non ammette che la pace si compri a costo dell'onore.
Anche in estetica fu un maschio, un valoroso, un laborioso. Egli odiava
la poesia moderna dagli sterili fianchi incapaci di trasalire : strofe amorfe,
versi disarticolali, tutta la rilassatezza délia forma che corrisponde alla
rilassatezza dell'anima. Egli ha rinserrato la cintola disciolta délia lirica
Vedi la parte francese.
[613J
FAUTE ITALIA^A
101
italiana ; ha rilrovato i ritmi antichi e ne ha l'atlo corazza ai pensicri
moderni.
Cardiieci fu il profeta dell' « uomo » ; ecco perché le esequie di questo
professore deirUniversità di Bologna furono dette « I funerali d'un dio ».
Jules Bois.
(Dal Matin, del 16 marzo 1908.)
La Cupola *.
(CO.NTINUAZIONE.)
Su per la notte serena
stellata nel rigido azzurro
la cupola inarca la schiena
di piombo suU'ampio tamburro.
Veglia sulla citlà che posa
corne un pensiero materne,
solleva nell'aria obliosa
il desiderio delTeterno.
Sdriicciolan taciti i morti
sul dorso di piombo e fanno
corne una frangia agli sporti^ :
ogni rilievo (' uno scanno.
Qiiale nel porto di Nerone
l'anfore estratte dal mare
* Vedi la parte francese.
genze.
1. spor-
avvolte d'una incrostazione
di conchiglie, un'anfora paj'e
la cupola, un anfora grande
nella serenità stellata,
tutta di fregi e ghirlande
di bianchi scheletri ornata.
Di lassù guardano intorno
il pian confuso de' tetti,
cercano i luoghi ove un giorno
sparser le cure e gli affetti ;
le case cercano dove
piansero e amarono allora,
e dove le genti nove
amano e piangono ancora.
(Segue.) Giulio ORSl^'I -.
(Domenico Gnoli.)
2. chiaro poeta vivente^ autore délie
Odi Tiberine, Fra terra cd astri, Jaco-
oella e altre raccolte di liriche.
Morte eroica.
•Y
Ma dov'era egli mai? Gli sguardi di tutti andavano di carrozzone in
carrozzone, e piii ansiosi di tutti quelli di Mania che ad ogni istante temeva
di smarrire i sensi. Mio Dio, corne il cuore le batteva terribilmente ! Ed
ecco che un uomo aperse lo sportello di uno scompartiraento giusto di
Ironte al vecchio Leschko e sua tiglia. Con immensostento, pallido come
un morto, vacillando e appoggiandosi al braccio d'un impiegato caritate-
vole, Michèle Lobicki scese dallo scompartimento, e a un tratto si trovô
vicino a Mania. Se non fosse già stato cosi buio e se l'unica lampada a
petrolio délia stazione non avesse mandato una luce cosi fioca, certo la
fanciulla lo avrebbe riconosciuto. Gosi ella lo guardô appena, e solo
quando udi il suo nome mormorato pianissimo, timidamente, trasali e
con un brivido di terrore fisse il misero storpio. Allora proruppe in un
Vedi le altre quattro parti.
f02 PARTK ITALIANA [614j
urlo : "Michèle", e stramazzù sveniita prima che il padre, ciii il raccap-
priccio aveva tolte le forze, fosse capace di sostenerla.
Gli altri avevano udito il grido délia giovane e si affollarono tosto in
quel piinto. Allora si fece un gran silenzio; non si udiva che l'ansito délia
loconiotiva e il cigolio délie ruote. Quando anche quel rumore si dileguo
fu un silenzio sepolcrale che faceva maie al cuore. Nessuno si muoveva ;
llnchè ad un tratto il vecchio Leschko si mise a gridare : « Psia Rrew !
Siete diventati di sale o la folgore vi ha colpiti ! Su, aiutatemi a caricare
la piccina sulia carrozza. » Senza una parola alcuni uomini alzarono la
fanciuUa che giaceva rigida e la portarono nella carrozza ; alcuni altri
li seguirono con passo strascicato , subito dopo si udi il trotlo del
cavallino e il rumore délia britschka che si allontanava. Alla stazione
continua va a regnare un silenzio di morte. Ma ad un tratto un grido lo
ruppe, un grido che penetrô in tutti i cuori facendoH abbrividire. Era
Michèle Lobicki che singhiozzava. Oh Madonna Santa corne singhioz-
zava ; solo gli uomini possono singhiozzare in modo si penoso !
Allora accadde una cosa strana : Gaspare Garowicz, colui di cui i com-
paesani non ricordavano quasi il suono délia voce, si accosté a( mutilato
che piangeva e gli disse ; " 0 Michèle, caro cogoato, tu sei un grande
eroe e io ti amo, e cosi mi aiuti il Signore. Sii il benvenuto ! " Poi baciù
Michèle sulle due guancie.
U'un subito anche tutti gli altri ritrovarono la parola e proruppero in
un grido di gioia ancor piîi forte di prima, e salutavano e acclamavano il
loro eroe che tornava. Katiagli si gettù al coUo, e afferma singhiozzando:
« lo ti amo, Michèle, fratello mio, come è vero che sono una buona cri-
stiana e spero di raeritare il paradiso. Vieni, mio diletto eroe! »
Michèle scosse tristemente il capo e disse solo a bassa voce : « Gammi-
nare mi fa tanto maie, tanto maie. Katia, mia cara, hai tu condotto il tuo
carrozzino f »
No, ella aveva dimenlicato il carrozzino, ne c'era da sperare di trovarne
uno 11, e la stradatino al villaggio era lunga, molto troppo lunga per una
povera gamba di legno non assuefatta a camminare.
A un giovane venue un'idea, che fu subito accolta da tutti con giubilo :
« Noi porteremo il nostro eroe in trionfo lino al paese — grido — . Psia
Krew, noi siamo patriotti ebuoni cristiani. » — « Si, noi lo siamo, sull'a-
nima mia, disse Katia, e aggiunse : « Ci sono altri che non lo sono». Ella
alludeva a Leschko e a sua liglia. Michèle tento di rifuitare, tristemente :
« Ye ne prego, non fatelo — mormoro — ve ne prego ».
Ma non gli giovù. Due giovani robusti lo sollevarono sulle spalle — e
via. 11 mutilato si morse le labbra a saugue per non gridare. La strada
era ineguale e ogni volta che i portatori incespicavano , o mutavano
passo 0 correvano troppo, egli solfriva per tutte le membra. E ciô acca-
deva spesso. L'eroe piangeva, senza parole. Quelli che lo porta vano e
quelli che precedevano o seguivano non se ne avvedevano. Era cosi buio!
{Segue.) Federico Webner Van Oestéren.
[645] PARTE ITALIAWA 103
Come il nonno imparô a nuotare.
(Racconto.)
Il nonno, che qwando era bimbo, come è ben iiaturale, non era punto
nonno, e si cliiamava Andréa, abitava in un piccolo villaggio del basso
Novavese. Suo padre era farinacista, il che, a quei tempi, non signilicava,
come ora, preparare e vendere medicinali e, per giunta, tenere iina raccoUa
di specialilà più o mono ciarlatanesche, in boccette e scatoline più o meno
eleganti, e ciarlar di politica col medico condotto e con le altre autorità
del paese.
Il farmacista di Gerano, allora, vendeva e fabbricava una série di cose,
anche estranee affatto alla farmacopea : come, per esempio, il carbone,
la polvere di riso, la cioccolata, la mostarda.
Era dunque un iiomo straordinariamente affacoendato, ed aveva ben
poco tempo, per non dire che non ne aveva punto, per occuparsi a vez-
zeggiare ' i suoi ligli.
Sna moglie era in iarmacia tin dalla mattina, e faceva levecidel marito
tutto il tempo che egli doveva passare aile carbonaie. E quando lui pren-
deva il suo posto dietro il banco, lei badava alla cucina, al bucato, al-
l'allevamento dei baclii nei mesi di niaggio e giiigno, ai polli, aile oche,
ad un intinità di cose, per le quali le ventiquattr'ore délia giornata le
bastavano appena, grazie alla sua grande attività, ma, a rigore,sarebbero
State insutiîcienti.
I tigli, che erano tre, venivano svegliati ogni mattina dalla mamma,
chedibiionissimaora bussav^a forte all'uscio del lostanzonedovedormivano
su tre lettucci, composti di due cavalletti, d'un saccone di foglie, e d'una
materassa.
A cinque anni cominciavano già a lavarsi e vestirsi da se alla me<^^>lio.
Prima dei cinque anni, era Andréa, il fratello maggiore, che aintava i
più piccini. Gli era capitata addosso aseianni quella prima responsalùlità,
ma non gli era mai rinscita gravosa.
È vero chequalche volta i piccini, assonnati ecapricciosi, gli menavano
qualclie pugno ; ma Inilo rendeva equamente ; se gridavano, gridava più
tbrte di loro, e, beneo maie, linivano sempre per esser vestiti tutti ogni
mattina, e per scendere in ciicina.
Era là che la mamma li aspettava per le preghiere ; cosi, senza perder
tempo, recitava forte un /*(ï/^r, un Ave, ux^ Credo, mentre scodellava la
polenta e versava in ogni scodella di polenta calda una mestola di latte
IVesco pei tiglioli.
Dette leorazioniemangiata la polenta, itreometti andavanoalla scuola,
muniti del sillabario, délia dottrina cristiana, dell'abbaco, del quaderno
per lo scritto, e d'un panierino col pane ed una mêla per la colazione del
mezzogiorno. Il pane era abbondante, la mêla era sempre una sola, e
quando tion era la mêla, erano (juattro noci, o una pera, mai nulla di
più appetitoso. La costoletta, la bistecca e le ova sbattute délie iiostre
scolarine moderne non erano mai balenate alla mente di quei ragazzi
neppnre in sogno. Se avessero udito di qualcuno che si fosse portato il
1 . far carezze, moine.
104 PARTE ITALIANA [6161
vino per la colazione a sciiola, corne ora si fa da molti, avrebbero crediito
che si traitasse del principe Camaralzaman e délia principessa Badour délie
Mille e una Notte, e l'avrebbero considerata corne una délie tante strava-
ganze di quei personaggi meravigliosi.
Al ritorno dalla scuola, babbo e mamma facevano trovare ai figli il
desinare, il focolare acceso nell' inverno, il letto per dormire, gli abiti
per mutarsi. Confetti, trastuUi, passeggiate, giuochi, vezzeggiamenti erano
cose ignote.
E questo, non perché il babbo del nonno fosse veramente povero. Aveva
qualche fondo, la farmacia, e guadagnava benino, ed in un piccole paese
corne Gerano, dove la vita costava meno che in città, ed a quei tempi, si
poteva dire uomo agiato.
Ma prendeva la vita molto sulserio. Aveva dei principii austeri. Guai a
fare un debito ! A'suoi occhi era una vergogna. Guai a ritardare d'un giorno
un pagamento ! Era mancare a un dovere. Guai a spendere quattrini in
una cosa inutile, in una superfluità, in un divertimento, mentre con quel
denaro si poteva fare qualche cosa di giovevole ail' avvenire dei ligli, o
soccorrere délia gente in miseria ! K quell' austerità l'applicava a se stesso
prima che agli altri. Vestiva quasi come i contadini del paese ; niangiava
nel modo più frugale, non aveva mai portato guanti in vita sua ; non
andava mai neppure fino a Novara, se non per nécessita del suo com-
mercio o délia sua famiglia, non entrava mai nell'unico caffè del
paese, e tanto meno nell' osteria.
Nessuno dunque poteva biasimarlo se non comprava dei giuocattoli a
suoi figli, per quanto loro li desiderassero.
Del resto i ragazzi si trastullavano egualmente. Ma lo facevano per ini-
ziativa propria e come potevano. Uscivano soli pel paese, andavano in
cerca di nidi, coglievano le more sulle siepi, pescavano nella Morra, vi
facevano i bagni ; ed era un arrampicarsi, un saltare, un correre, un
dimenarsi in tutti i modi, che non aveva nulla da invidiare alla ginnastica
sistematica délie nostre scuole.
La mamma se ne accorgeva dagli strappi che trovava nei vestiti, ognu-
no dei quali era salutato da una sgridata o da uno scappellotto. Ma la
mamma non ci metteva tiele -, ed i ragazzi non se ne avevano a maie.
Nei calori ardenti delT estate, tutti gli altri spassi erano trascurati, ed
i giovinetti del paese passavano nell'acqua tutte le ore che la scuola e le
occupazioni di casa lasciavano loro di libertà.
(Segue.) Marchesa Colombi '.
2 lo face va senza amarezza. — * Dal bel libro Ragazzi d'una volta e ragazzi
d'adesso. — Edit. Baldini e Gastoidi, Milano.
Per ridere.
Fnori porta Ticinese a Milano un barbiere ha scritto sull' insegna délia
sua botteguccia.
« Qui si fa la bavba c si lagliano i capelli a qualunque costo » '.
1. costo = prezzo, a qualunque costo = conte que conte. Di qui la facezia.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 14
20 Avril 1908.
%" Année.
PARTE ITALIANA
Miscellanea.
La cronaca degli ultimi di Marzo segna l'incontro del Re d'Italia e deirini-
peratore di Germania a Venezia, incontro, dicesi, bene aiispicante alla t'iUura
pace europea. L'Imperatore di Germania era accompagnato dairiniperalrice
e da tre dei suoi figli, lutti diretti a
Corfù per prendervi possesso dell'
Achilleion, la splendida villa che
appartenne già a Elisabelta d'Au-
stria.
11 soggiorno degli imperiali tede-
schi a Venezia si protrasseperalcuni
giorni durante i quali i Sovrani
visitarono i più insigni monumenti
délia città, e alouni degli storici
palazzi (iie si ergono superbi liingo
il Canal Grande ; talora essi sispin-
sero ancbe pin lontano, verso quella
corona d'isoletle — Miirano, l'isola
degli Armeni, Torcello — che fanno
ancor piîi belle e ricco di poesia il
soggiorno di Venezia.
Alla loro partenza iina folla di
gente li ha salntati ; il popolo
accalcato suUe fondamenla ha
accompagnato a hingo collosgiiardo
e collo svenlolio dei fazzolelli il
Yacht impériale che si allontanava ;
poi la qiiiete è ritornata pei canali si-
GuGLiELMo II ^^'^^'' P^^ campiclli soleggiati, su cui
imperatore di Germania. divinamente sorride la primavera.
Ncirultima setlimana di Marzo si è sponto a novanfanni il Senatore Gian-
baltista Giorgini che fu cospiratore, giornalista, patriotta purissimo, uomo
politico, una délie più belle figure del noslro Risorgimento. Amicissimo di
Cavoiir, d'Azeglio, Sella, Lamarmora ebbe incarichi importanti e delicati.
Xel 72 fu fatto senatore. Era genero di Alessandro Manzoni, avendone sposata
la figlia Vittoria, e col Manzoni stesso, visse in grande dimestichezza. Dotato
d"un largo e vivo ingegno, il Giorgini era fra i piii eleganti e cospicui scrit-
tori nostrani ; specialmente apprezzate sono le sue Iraduzioni di Orazio di
oui i lettori délie Cinq Langues già ebbero un saggio K Da molli anni aveva
1. nel n» 20 novembre 1907.
[83]
ITAL. Il
106 PARTE ITALIA^A [658]
perdu la la vista, ma egli sape va a mernoria i classiei lalini e la traduzione
si formava nella sua menle da un capo all"altro; egli poi la limava via via
fincliè la riteneva ultimata, allora la dettava al fedcl servo o alla buona figlia
Melilde.
Una vera celebritk ebbe la sua introduzione al Nuovo Vocabolario délia
iingua italiana proniosso dal iVlanzoni.
Gran peccalo che il suo profonde scellicismo gli abbia impediLo di scri-
vere molto più e di stampare e far noto cio che scrisse.
« Soltanio per opéra tua, o Gianbatlista Giorgini, ebbe a dire il Bongbi, il
Manzoni potrebbe rivivere, ma non rivivrà, perché Dio t'ha dato una pigrizia
pari all'ingegno, il che vuol dire che t'ha dato un ingegno infmito. »
In Avellino, patria di Francesco De Sanctis 2, ebbe luogo il 22 Marzo una
solenne commemorazione del grande critico napoletano. La parte piii impor-
tante délia solennilà fu la conferenza di Mario Mandalari promossa dalla
Socielà D.inte Alighieri, sul tema « L'ultima scuola di Francesco Ue Sanctis».
t Francesco De Sanctis — disse fra l'altro l'oralore — ha un lato partico-
lare, che lo illumina, che lo innalza : l'opéra sua di educatore.
« Dopo tanti anni, leggendo le sue lezioni, prima, anzi, di averle letle,
vedendole solamente, mi è parso di essere tornato aile panche délia sala
numéro uno a pian terreno deH'università di Napoli, al lato di Adolfo Ga-
spary, seriamente pensoso. Parla il maestro. Grande dinnanzi a noi, intorno
a noi la folla degli studenti e degli udltoi-i.
« Tutti siamo intenti a ([uella parola sincera, calda, piena d'amore e di
rispetto per l'idéale letterario che dovesse ditfondere il bene, che dovesse,
alnieno, indicarlo colle varie forme d'arte. Questa parola s'insinuava nel
noslro animo, e prendeva possesso de' nostri cuori. Era éloquente perché
semplice; perché credente nellinfluenza del suo magistcro e nella etficacia
délia sua propaganda. ïra noi, in tutta quella folla, non era un ribelle. »
2. 1811-1883.
Nel mondo dei letterati e degli artisti.
Corne avete concepito !e opère piii noievoli ? corne lavorate? quali elTetti
psichici vi produce il lavoro? — Queste in complesso le domande che la
Rivista di fdosojîa e scienze affiniXin. y\\o\\.o agli scienziati, ai letterati, agli
artisti d'Italia. — Maiïeo Pantaleoni risponde vergognandosi di confes-
sare ch'egli non ha ordine, né ora, né metodo di lavoro ; perde carte, perde
libri, i ragazzi gli pigliano tutto. Ma il suo lavoro scientifico si compie lo
stesso, perché quando un problema lo tormenta, s'impadronisce di lui, lo
assilla,finchè é risolto. Puô stare a tavolino dieci ore di seguito : una sola
cosa fa regolarmente ; ginnastica coi manubri maltina e sera soslituerido-
ad essi le sedie quand'è in viaggio. Per lui il lavoro é gioia e pena e rabbia
ad un tempo ma l'ardire non scema, né sente la stanchezza. — E. A. Butli
ha lavorato molto : da giovine con facilita e con gioia ; più lardi a stento e
con dolore. ïulte le sue opère furono cominciate e terminale iu campagna
senza poter mai lavorare di seguito per più d'un'ora ; ha quindi bisogno di
camminare e di fantasticare. — Il pittore G. A. Sarlorio dicbiara che le idée
di ciô che dipinge 0 scrive, gli parc abbiano in lui radici lontane, ignorate,
misteriose. Un imprevedibile dolore lo turbô una volta fin quasi allô squili-
brio ment lie, mail lavoro lo salvô tino a riguadagnare limpide tulle le suc
[659] PARTE ITALIANA 107
facoltà. Riposacol variared'occupazione, cosiccliè piio lavorare tutlo il lempo
che èsveglio. Fisicamente l'equitazione gli rimelle l'equilibrio fra il corpo
e lo spirito. Il lavoro gli procura «gioia, pioia e gioia» ma quando ha pro-
dotto qualcosa non gli pare esoguila da lui e immancabilmente dubita che
saprebbe rifarla. — Lo scultore ïrentacosle ebbe d'un tratlo la visione esatta
e definitiva délia niaggior parte délie sue opère prima di scliizzarne pure un
liozzetto ; poi la niaturô entro se perfetlamenle in ogni sua parle senza an-
cora Iradurla in crela. Per pocne opère corne pel Caino, dovetle modellare
più bozzetli. Non ha metodo di lavoro ma lavora molto e ad ogni ora e
quando unopera gli eccila la fantasia, non dorme più.
Un'allra domanda che piacerebbe rivolgere ai lelterati ilaliani, secondo
Oreste Fasolo, un articolista délia Gazzetta del popolo è la seguente '■^Bove
scrivete ? "
Una simile domanda fu, a quantopare, rivolta dal Figaro ai lelterati fran-
cesi, e chi rispose di prediligere, per comporre le sue opère, Nizzao Cannes,
chi qualche villa fra i monli o in riva ai laghi svizzeri, chi i poetici silenzi
di Venezia o l'eterna primavera di Algeri o del Cairo.
Quanlo diverse invece, dice l'arlicolista succitalo, suonorel)bero le risposle
dei lelterati ilaliani, cui Tarte dk si magri compensi pecuniari, se si lolga
qualche felice eccezione, o qualche milionario, corne Antonio Fogazzaro.
Gabriele d'Annunzio, — egli dice — appena finito di vergare ' l'ultimo
verso délia Francesca da Rimini, potè telegrafare il compimenlo dell'opera
•sua, « scritla lutta a Viareggio. in faccia al mare sonanle ed urlante e finila
tra tuoni e lampi, » ma per i suoi primi libri dovette accontentarsi anche lui
di assai meno scenografia di sfondo e di maggior modeslia di ambiente. I//n-
nocente, per esempio, fu scrilto in uno stanzino imbiancato a calce (offerta
ospitale di Michelti) e in cui non vi era che un lavolino di pioppo e una sedia
di paglia !
Pascoli non ha scrilto tutti i suoi versi nel suo romitaggio di Barga, poichè
solo per pochi mesi dell'anno Finsegnamento gli permette di restarvi. Anche
lui, corne Arturo Graf e corne già Giosuè Carducci, scrive dopo moite ore di
altro e più pesante lavoro, l'insegnamonto universitario ; quel lavoro che gli
frutla il pane. E scrive — d'invcrno — nella stanza da pranzo, perche questa
è calda, mentre lo studio è freddo.
(iiovanni Marradi pensa le sue magnifiche rapsodie garibaldine dopo avère...
espletaie- le pratiche che vengono giornalmente a ingombrare il suo tavolo
al... Provveditorato degli studi di Livorno.
Matilde Serao scrive le pagine riboccanli di passione, corne La Ballerina,
come Dopo il perdono, dopo aver scritti tutti gli slelloncini dei suoi Mosconi.
e Mai'io Leoni scrisse i suoi più forli drammi dopo avère — per dieci ore —
venduto mezzelane e fustagni alla loquace clienlela del negozio ov'era coni-
messo e di cui è ora il proprictario...
In Ilalia gli scriltori lavorano dove e come... possono.
Dinanzi a trenta o quaranta scolari che copiano una coniugazione lalina, o
nella redazione di un giornale, tra le note ammucchiate dai reporters e che
servirono poco prima a complelare la cronaca di un furto con effrazione o di
un assas?inio...
Talora tra un fascio di pratiche da emarginare, e lalora dietro il riparo di
un libro maslro aperto...
Talofa in una stanza da pranzo ; sulla slessa tavoia poco prima sparecchiala,
1. di scrivere. — 2. espletare è brutto modo di dire usato nel gergo burocratico ;
vale compiere, condurre a termine.
108
PARTE ITALIANA
[660]
giunge dalle allre caniere il vociare allegro dei bambini o l'eco rumorosa di
lin altereo o di un atto sbadato délia serva spazienlita... E spesso una lisata
infantile fa fuggire unimmagine e il fracasso di un piatto caduto interrompe
una battuta che non si saprà più rialtaccare...
E taiora anche in una caméra da letto, ove un bimbo o una donna, una
persona cara, insomma, dorme, e lo scrittore ne sente il respiro lieve lieve,
e svolge adagio adagio le pagine del suo quaderno, rimuove piano piano le
cartelle che va annerendo di parole fitte, per il timoré di disturbare quel
doice sonne, e tiene basso — il più possibile — il paralume délia lampada
alFinchè sia di appena pochi palmi il raggio luminoso...
Nelle eondizioni più disadatte, più disagiate, è seritta in Italia l'opéra lette-
raria...
Ma poichè a tutto ncl mondo si fa Tabitudine, anche a tutti questi disagi sa
adattarsi il letterato italiano. Non solo. Ma il suo ingegno, per i mille con-
trasti, non pure si lascia intiacchire, ma si affina, si éleva, e talvolta è sul più
umile scrittoio, nella caméra più disadatta, che è seritta la più bella lirica,
la novella più fantatisca, il saggio scientifico che âpre niiovi orizzonti all'u-
manità.
Per una société di nuoto.
A Castelgandolfo presse il clasisico lago d'Albano s'è in questi giorni
posta solennemente la prima pietra del casino sociale délia « Rari Nantes »,
una società per gli amanti del nuoto. Con la pietra furono poste le monete
in corso, due medaglie ed una pergamena recante la formula d'iniziazione
alla Società, seritta appositamente da Gabriele d'Annunzio. Ecco questa for-
mula : « Per il mio ardore giovanile fuor d'ogni giogo e d'ogni vincolo, per
tiitte le forze che, prorompenti dal mio petto, fan grido di baldanza, convinto
che ogni virtîi tisica e morale sta nell'azione e ne! sacrificio, che la potenza
sta nell'unione e nel perdurare délia volontà, con la fronle alta e serena do
il mio nome all'Associazione « Rari Nantes », promettendo di porgere aiuto ad
ognunoche sia per annegare presso di me, senza che prevalga' pericolo e
non freddo e non strettezza e non profondità, e con la mano, la mente, il
cuore di concorrere all'incremento del nuoto nel mare latino ed oltre tuttc
le sirti-, si che al torrido sole, su gelide terre ignote, in cospetto délie grandi
fiumane misteriose, i suoi cultori siano diritti e fitti come le alberature nelle
ampie cale ^ e in un ventodi gioia ondeggino come fiamnie incorruttihili le
loro bandiere spiegate alla forluna ed alla gloria. ->
1. cioè : senza che la vinca la considerazione del pericolo... — 2. la Sirti mag-
glore o golfo di Sidra, e la Sirti minore o golfo di Kahbs nella costa nord deU'Africa.
— 3. seno di mare.
La Cupola*.
( C 0 .\ T I .\ U A Z I G N E . )
Qualche fenestra risplende
quadrata nel buio : l'addita
qua e là uno scheletro e tende
gli stecchi blanchi alla vita.
Vedi la parte francese.
Alla fenestra ond'io guardo
si volge uno scheletro : scole
il teschio e saluta nel tardo
secolo rignoto nepote.
Perché mi mandi un saluto ?
sei nato sotto il mio tetto ?
nella mia stanza sei vissuto ?
sei morto dové il mio letto ?
[661
PARTE ITALIANA
109
Scheletro, chi fosti ? Neiradra'
vecchiezza cadevi o nel fiore
degli anni ? cri donna leggiadra
precinla d'un nimbo d'amore ?
Ma oggi a noi vivi son piene
del vostro sangue, délia rossa
febbre del sangue le vene,
e voi siete aride ossa !
O morli antichi, nessuno
più vi ricorda : i recenti
1. o atra
lorosa.
nera, e poi : mesta, do-
chiedono l'abito brune
e lacrime e Uori ai viventi.
La vostra memoria è muta,
muta conie la risonanza
d'un liuto perdu ta
nella lontananza.
Che fate li ? che volcle,
0 morti antichi, da noi".'
Tornate aU'eterna quiète :
non c'è più nulla per voi.
Gitilio Orsi.m 2.
(Donienico Gnoli).
2. chiaro iioeta vivente, autore délie
Odi Tiberine, Fra terra ed aslri, Jaco-
vella e altre raccolte di liriche.
Morte eroica *.
YI
Giunti alla casetta di Gaspare Garowicz i giovanotti deposero il loro
fardello. « 0 Michèle, fatti uiia buona dormitona, gridarono alciini,
domani all'osteria, festeggeremo il tuo ritorno » — « Si, si, e tu ci rac-
conterai » — « Verra tutto il paese a sentirti » suonù da varie bande.
Il miitilato, saltellando siille sue grucce, varco la soglia délia casa del
cognato. Fuori risuonarono ancora délie grida « Yiva Teroe » — « Viva
Michèle » — « Viva » — « 1 santi del cielo lo proteggano » poi torno il
silenzio.
— « Hai famé, Michèle ? » chiese Katia.
Egli scosse il capo : « No, cara sorella, no davvero. Solo mi sento stanco,
tanto, tanto stanco. »
« Non ô meglio che vada e letto ? » chiese Gaspare timidamenle. Katia
sicontentô di accennare di si ; ad un tratto era divenuta insolitamente
taciturna. Poi accompagna il fratello nella cameretta ch'egli occupava già
prima délia sua partenza. « Ecco, dormi lin che ne hai voglia « disse, e se
ne andù subito quasi avesse paura di rimaner sola con lui. Non le passa
nemmeno per la testa che avrebbe potuto aiutarlo a spogliarsi.
Ma il reduce non pensava atîatto a spogliarsi. Cosl vestito com'era,
senza neanche togliersi la gamba di legno, si buttù sul letto, nascose il
volto negli alti cuscini di piumino, che per la solenne circostanza erano
stati ammonticchiati sul letto, e soffocô in essi i singhiozzi che gii scuo-
tevano tutta la persona : « Mania, gemè l'infelice, Mania ! »
Gosi trascorse molto tempo. A un tratto Michèle si alz6 a sedere perche
aveva udito nella caméra vicina la stridula voce délia sorella.
— « Sei proprio un imbecille, Gaspare, udi che diceva. Bontà del cielo !
Sei proprio il più grande imbecille ch'io miconosca. Unonorelo chiami?
tante grazie per quell'onore. E ti prego di dirmi, asino che non sei altro,
se potrà aiutarci nei lavori délia campagna ? Lo potrà, di, quello storpio ?
E Mania, dici ? Ah quella è una bella canaglia, com'è vero ch'io sono una
buona cristiana. E il vecchio Leschko, straccione, va ! Lei m'ha detto
Vedi le altre quattro parti.
HO
PARTE ITALIANA
6621
adesso che non vorrebbe quel niostro per tiitto l'oro del mondo, e che la
Madonna la liberi da una simile disgrazia e lui ha soggiunto che non ci
pensa neanche a mantenere un disutilaccio. Capisci, cretino ? E dunque
tocca a noi dar da mangiare a queH'ozioso che puo ancora campar
cent'anni. Il perché, te lo domando a te. Certo che non lolasciero morir
di famé perche è inio Iratello, e io sono una buona cristlana e amo il
Signore. Ma che questo sia un onore, corne dicl tu, pezzo d'asiiio, perché
egli è uneroe, è una... una stupidaggine, capisci. E adesso, mnrsch a lelto!»
Rigido e immoto Michèle aveva ascoltato, poi si era l'atto bianco corne
un cencio lavato, ma non si mosse, non un muscolo del suo volto trasali.
Cosi rimase un certo tempo e pareva che aspettasse qualcosa. Un'ora
intera era trascorsa ed egli non si era ancor mosso, come se Cosse di pietra.
A un tratto cominciô a gemere piano, oh cosi piano.
Una porta délia sua caméra conduceva allaperto. Michèle passô la
soglia, zoppicando. . .
Il mattino dopo l'eroe fu trovato nello stagno del villaggio, il petto
IVegiato délia medaglia dei prodi.
FINE.
Federico Werner van Oestéren.
Pasqua !
0 fratelli, il santo rito
Sol di gaudio oggi ragiona ;
Oggi è giorno di convito ;
Oggi esulta ogni persona :
]Mon è madré che sia schiva
Délia spoglia più festiva
1 suoi bamboli vestir.
1 . che rifuiti.
Sia frugal del ricco il pasto ;
Ogni mensa abbia i suoi doni
E il tesor negato al lasto
Di snperl)e imbandigioni
Scorra amico all'uuiil letto-,
Faccia il desco ^ poveretto
Più ridente oggi apparir !
Alessandro Manzom. *
2. e lo sfarzo negato alla ricca ta vola
vada alla casa del povero. — 3. tavela.
— 4. DdWlnno sacro: La Hisurrezione.
Come il nonno imparô a nuotare.
(GOMINUAZIOXE.)
Quasi tutti sapevano nuotare. Eppure nessuno aveva mai presa una
lezione di nuoto, ne era mai stato accouipagnato in acquadaun marinaio,
ne s'era legato sulla schiena due zucche comeleali doratedi un amorino,
nès'eraaggrappatodisperatamentead un salvagente. Iparenti d'alloranon
si davano tante brighe. Trovavano che il nuoto non era una nécessita, e
dicevano : — Se non potete imparare da voi, fatene a meno.
Molti molti annidopo,quando il piccolo Andréa era diventato il nonno,
noi si andava qualche rara volta in campagna per alcuni giorni sul lago
d'Orta. Là c'erano délie nostre compagne, cheavevano casa in rivaal lago,
una darsena', un canotto, un marinaio, o piuttosto un barcaiuoio, mari-
naio di acqua doice.
1. piccola baia dove stanno le barclie ; negli arsenal! è il Iiiogo dove si tengono i
logni disarmati.
[663J PAItTE ITALIA^A 111
Noi altri pure avremmo voliito nuotare, ma non sapevamo.
S'entrava nell'acqua uno a uno col barcaiolo che ci teneva le mani, e
ci faceva tare l'esercizio, ripotendo ail' intinito, corne fannoi caporalicoi
coscrilti : — Uno, due, tre, quattro. — Noi ci si metteva un' attenzione
intensissima, che ci irrigidiva tutti, e si aveva una paura smisurala, e
non si riusciva a mettere d'accordo le JDraccia con le gambe, e s'andava
regolarmente sotto, appena il barcaiolo ci lasciava.
11 nonno, alto, forte, tutto bruciato dal sole, stava ritto suUa spiaggia
corne una grande statua di bronzo, e ridendo dei nostri sforzi diceva : —
lo non ho mai imparato quell'esercizio, eppure sono stato un nuotatore
famoso. Ma ai miei tempiquestecose non entravanonel numéro di quelle
che si debbono imparare. Era un gusto corne un altro, e, chi lo voleva se
lo procurava corne poteva.
« A Gerano, poco fuoridel paese, c'era un ponte sulla Morra, alto corne
un secondo piano, ed anche più, si chiamava il Ponte del Diavolo. Yi
sono molti ponti che si chiamano cosi, sebbene non abbiano nulla di
tremendo, di diabolicamente pauroso e bello, corne il Ponte del Diavolo
che i viaggiatori vanno ad ammirare sulla via del Gottardo,
«Yedevo i miei compagni che spiccavano il salto da quel ponte, aiïon-
davano un istante, poi diguazzavano scuotendo Tacqua e spruzzandone
da tutte le parti, e col capo fuori dell' acqua tiravano via a nuotare alle-
gramente.
« Li invidiavo. Mi struggevo di fare altrettanto. Ma ero ancora molto
piccino. Avevo, credo, sette anni. Non sapevo nuotare e dovevo accon-
tentarmi di bagnarmi alla riva, correiido nella sabbia coU'acqua lino aile
spalle.
«Una volta domandai a mio padre : — Corne si fa per imparare a nuo-
tare ? —
« E lui mi rispose : — Ma ! si prova. lo ho nuotato linchè sono stato
giovine, setiza che nessuno mi abbia mai insegnato.
« Poi, crollando le spalle soggiunse : — Del resto, non c'è nessun bi-
sogno di imparare a nuotare, quando non si deve fare il marinaio.
« lo non ne parlai più. Ma ne avevo una gran voglia. Un giorno stavo
sul ponte del Diavolo guardando alcuni compagni che nuotavano di
sotto, e dissi a due altri, che si preparavano a fare il salto :
— Come mi piacerebbe di saper nuotare anch'io !
u Non avevo terminato di dirlo, che mi sentii sollevare da terra e pre-
cipitare nel vuoto, mentre i compagni che mi buttavano giù gridavano
agli altri che erano già nel torrente :
— Attenti ! attenti ! Badate che vien giù Andréa ! —
« Affondfi neir acqua, provai un gran freddo, una gran sotfocazione,
poi respirai a stento. Avevo la testa fuori delFacqua, e due nuotatori me
la reggevano, tirandomi innanzi.
« Non so come avvenisse, ma bastù quella lezione. 11 giorno dopo
spiccai il salto da me, ed ebbi appena bisogno dell' aiuto dei compagni
per tornare a galla. La terza volta non ebbi bisogno di nessun aiuto.
Sapevo nuotare
« Lamainitia, quando le dissi quel fatto, si mise di malumore: forse
aveva paura per me, ma non me lo disse. Mio padre borbotto tutto acci-
gliato : — che ero una testa matta, che avevo arrischiato di rompermi
il collo por imparare una cosa inutile, un perditempo. ... —
112 PARTE ITALIANA [6641
«lo mi arrischiai a dire : — Mi ha detto l'altro giorno che anche leiha
nuotato linchè è stato giovane, babbo. . .
— È vero. Ma non ho cominciato dal salto. Eppoi, se io ho perduto
del tempo inutilmente non è quello che ho fatto di meglio, e non devi
imitarmi. Se hai délie ore di Iroppo, vieni aile carbonaie, che troverai
da occiiparti meglio.
« Fu tutto la gloriae l'ammirazione che mi fruttoquel miorapido pro-
gresso.
« Tenetelo a mente signorini, che mi fate spendere i quattrini délia
lezione e credete di aver fatto molto e quasi quasi pretendete che io vi
lodi 0 vi ringrazi quando ne avete profittato un pochino. »
Marchesa Colombi *.
* Dal bel libro Raç/azzi. d'una volta e ragazzi d'adesso. — Edit. Baldini e Castoldi,
Wilano.
Varietà.
Il maestro di pittiira délia Regina Elena.
La Regina Elena — scrive il conte Ottavio neWIllustrazione ItaUana —
ha saputo scegliersi per maestro di piltura il più silenzioso pittored'Italia.
Giuseppe Gasciaro pare abbia un solo mezzo per comunicare coi suoi
simili: i suoi paslelli. il sno studio è ad Autignano, presso Napoli; ma
egli lavora e finisce ( — Tutto, anche la tirma, — egli m'ha detto) i suoi
pastelli aH'aria aperta davanti al vero. A casa li incornicia, ne riempie le
pareti e le casse ; ogni tanto ne spedisce una cinquantina in un'esposizione
e li vende tutti, per aver spazio da respirare. AU'Esposizione diMilano ne
mandù otlanta ; ne vendetle, credo, settanta. E in (|uestacasa che è tutta
un'esposizione dal soffîtto al pavimento, dalle stanze da lette ai salotti,
egli m'ha accolto cou la semplicità allabile d'un uomo cui il lavoro, non
il successo del proprio lavoro, dà gioia e l'ede. Cou rare parole egli v'indica
qualche paesaggio che gli è più caro, e appena puo vi conduce luori da
quelle stanze, e vi mostra la piccola pinacoloca che adora, la pinacoteca
dove sono raccolli i quadri degli altri : Giganle, De Nittis, Morelli, Mancini,
Vetri, Pratella, uiio scorcio di tutta la pittura napoletana del secolo pas-
sato. — E la Regina? Corne dipinge la Regina? — Dipinge bene, moite
l)ene. . Un brio di colore... una freschezza d'esecuzione straordinaria...
Non è più una dilettante, badate... E' un'artista. E ha una passione per
quest'arte ! Resta a lavorare, all'aria aperta, cinqne o sei ore di seguito
senza stancarsi . — E a San Rossore, a Racconigi non lavorate anche voi ?
— Moltissimo — e in silcnzio passa in un'altra stanza dove la meta
d'una pareteè coperla da una tenda bruna, e fa scorrere sngli anelli la
tenda. Appaiono quattro lile di paesaggi deliziosi : un lagoquietocoi cigni
e le ninfee tiorite ; un prato verde brulicantedi polli neri ; una cortina di
lecci, e poi un'altra cortiiui d'alberi. — (Juest'è Racconigi il parco,
il lago. .. L'aria del IMemonte è cosi diversa da questa — e tira la tendina,
corne se avesse mostratù un reliquiario. — E quesli pastelli non li espor-
rete ? — Vi pare ! Non li esporrù mai. — E al Re piacciono ? — Si, piac-
ciono. Mentre lavoro mi viene a trovare spesso ; e resta li, accanto a me,
a guardarmi dipingere, sediito suH'erba, per ore...
Les Cinq Langues
N» 15,
5 Mai 1908.
8« Année.
PARTE [TALIANA
Miscellanea.
L'occupazione di Danane da parte del Governo Italiano ha ancora richiamato
la noslra altenzione sulla Colonia Erilrea, e specialmente siil Benadir che ne
è corne la terra promessa. Irrigalo per moite centinaiadi chilometri dallT'chi-
Scebeli, che vien chiamato il Nilo délia Somalia, il Benadir présenta ima
ColoiiKi erUrea. — Asc:^ri.
regione forLilissima, scarsanienfc coltivata, le cui trihù (i Bimal), ci sono tut-
tora ostilissime.
Specialmente avverse, notano tutti coloro che videro quelle regioni, ci sono
le donne. Sul mercalo di Mogadiscio si vedono aggirarsi nel loro candido sci-
amma; le più giovani sono veramente belle, con dei profili purissimi, gli
occhi neri e lucenti ; ma il loro sguardo è profondamente ostile, ed al saluto
degli europei esse non rispondono col menomo cenno.
Corraggiosi e fedeli invece si mostrano sempre più le truppe indigène
(ascari), e iina naova prova ne diede il combattimento di Bahallidove lacen-
turiadi Merca (Arabi dello Yemen) fu addirittura decimata.
[89]
ITAL. 15
ll't PARTE ITALIANA [706|
Dopo Co^îtanlino Nigra un'altra bella figura di diplomatico italiano è scom-
parsa : il conte Giiiseppe Tornielli Brunali di Vergano.
Non una voce discorde attorno al suo tumulo ; solo parole di Iode e di
rimpianto, solo voci che ne dicono la vita nobile e para, laboriosa e bene-
fioa. Nato nel 1836, fin dal'SO maestri econoscenti ne profelizzavano lo splen-
dido avvenire ; poco dopo infatli Massimo d"Azeglio lo prendeva a compagno
nella difficile missione in Romagna, dopo la quale, da Coslanlinopoli a Pie-
troburgo, di qui ad Atene, a Belgrado, a Madrid, a Londra la sua carriera fii
una continua ascensione, che doveva chiiidersi cosi degnamente colla lunga
ambascieria nella capitale Francese.
*
* »
Larga eco su pei giornali e fra il pubblico ha avuto la nuova commedia
di G. Anlona-Traversi, inlilolata : 1 martiri del lavoro e rappresentata per la
prima volta a Roma alla meta di Aprile.
La commedia ha un'intenlo salirico : parodiare la fatica improba a cui si
assoggettano i membri délia società élégante, i quali, a furia di thés, di rice-
vimenti, di eont'erenze, di comitati di beneficenza, di pranzi e di balli fini-
scono per non trovare piii un briciolo di tempo da dare aU'intimità délia casa,
agli atï'etti più legittimi.
La commedia non ha un vero intreccio ; ô piutlosto una successione di
quadretti, di scenetle, di dialoghi vivaci e spiritosi. A un suo intervislatore
TAntona-Traversi disse che nel comporla aveva tenuto présente l'immortale
poema satirico del Parini, e, corne quegli fece il Giorno del « (iiovin Signore »
del secolo XVil, egli ha voUilo fare il <^ giorno » di una coppia mondana délia
Roma attuale.
Benchè la commedia rimanga molto lontana dalla potenza satirica del
modello vi sono in essa alcuni tratli graziosi : cosi la caricatura del bridge, lo
sciocco giuoco a cui lalla società attende invece con un rispetto quasi reli-
gioso, la caricatura délia Signora Presidentessa di una società « Pro Int'an-
lia » che va a un ballo mentre la propria bambina ha 39o di febbre ; la
caricatura délia mania dello sport per cui al 3° atto tre personaggi com-
paiono con varie parti del corpo lussate e l'erite, l'uno per una /janne auto-
mobilistica, e gli altri due per un accidente durante la caccia alla volpe c
durante un'ascensione in pallone volante.
« Ecco dei veri e aulentici infortuni sul lavoro » dice di essi il filosofo
délia commedia. E allô stesso modo il conte Velledi, il protagonisla, giunto
alla sera délia faticosa gioniata mondina, dopo lo o 16 ore di conlinui
divertimenli sospira » « Ah, chi ci darà le otto ore di lavoro ! — s
La critica, pur rilevando le mende ' dellopera, vi ha riconosciuto le felici
qualità manifestatesi già in precedenti commedie satiriche, conie Canià mon-
dana, La scalata delVOlimpo, ccc.
B. A. W.
1. i difetti.
La psicologia di un dizionario.
Quando si parla con disprezzo del « metodo filologico » e délia sua appli-
cazione allô studio délie lingue antiche e si imputa al suo uso il poco inte-
resse che gli aUinni délie nostre scuole secondaiie prendono allô studio del
laltno e del greco, si dimentica — afferma giustamente il Vailati nella lUvista
(li psicologia applicata — che vi è un ramo délia linguistica il cui oggelto è la
vita intima délie lingue, la ricerca délie cause che determinarono i successivi
adattainenti di quesle alla loro funzione di mezzi di espressione c di comu-
nicazione e che taie ramo délia linguistica, che il Bréal ha chiamato Seman-
tica, è dei piîi attraenti e potrebbe divcnire uno dei più istruttivi anche nelle
[707J FAUTE ITAL1A^A 115
nostre scnole. Lo studio del latino rapprescnta nna opportunità unica per
prendere conoscenza del significalo originario délie parole e délie frasi che
iisiamo ogni giorno, per renderci ragione dei significati, apparenlemente
disparafi', assnnti nella nostra lingua da nno stesso vocabolo e riconoscere
le parenLele tra le parole la cui aflinità ci è nascosta. Il « Dizionario eliiiiolo-
gico latino » di Bréal e Bailly offre occasione al professore Vailati di
appoggiare con molli eseinpi le sue considerazioni e mostrare quanta psico-
logia si possa apprcndere anche da un vocabolario. Se i nostri scolari lo
conoscessero, capirebbero unabiiona volta che ci si puô divertire anche col
latino ! Il Yailati lo conosce bene, qnesto dizionario, e si diverte ad ennme-
rarci nna quantità di passaggi di significato tinora insospettati dal pubblico
non sludioso. Chi pensa oggi all'acqna {unda) qiiando parla di abbondanzo,
ridondama, o ad ap^er (terrapieno) qiiando parla di esugerazione (ex aggerare)?
Delirare, derivô da lira (solco) e signitica etimologicamente uscire dal solco.
Calamitas (da calamus, canna) indicù da prima une scarso raccollo di cereali.
Tribolo, tribolazione derivô da tribulum che significa una operazione agricola,
la trebbiatura. >'essuno riconoscerebbe, a prima vista, una qualsiasi paren-
tela tra la parola lielo (laelus) e la parola lelame {laetamen). Eppure Laetitia è
veramente un bel nome ilalico, dice il Vailati, anche in un senso al quale il
poeta moderno ^ non pensava, ma al quale pensava, forse, il poeta anlico
quando cantava : Quid facial laetas segetes... Le parole splendeo, splendidus
designavano originai'iamente il color giallo délia pelle di chi è aftetto da
itterizia o da malattia di fegato {spleen). Lo aggettivo sincerus era adoperato
per qualificare il miele genuino, sine cera. Un altro aggetivo, opportunus,
derivava da portus e designava la facilita di approdo in date località. Una
strana connessione è quclla tra le paiole leUeratura e difterite. La parola
liilerae, secondo il Bréal, deriverebbe da o'.'fôkpai, pelli, la quale eraimpiegala
per indicare le tavolette cerate su cui si scriveva... Il Vailati cita molli allri
esempî nel suo articolo ; ma questi ci sembra bastino a dichiarare, se non
altro, lutlo Tumorismo délia psicologia che si puo sludiare in un dizionario!
[Dal Marzocco.)
1. diversi. — 2. Carducci « Letizia, bel nome italico » nall' ode Per la morte 'H
Eiigenio Napoleone.
Il nonno di Eleonora Duse.
Il nonno di Eleonora Duse, il capocomico Luigi Duse, idolo del pubblico
veneziano nella prima meta del secolo XIX, ebbe il merito di riportar sulle
scène le commedie goldoniane con una l'edeltà amniirabilmente scrupolosa
e con una interpretazione insuperata sino a oggi, o per lo meno superata
solo dalla sua grande nipole nella Locandiera. Egli aveva l'abitudine di
chiacchiei'are col pubblico del teatro come se fosse a conversazione privata e
il pubblico, naturalniente, si mostrava molto familiare. Figurarsi poi quando
il pubblico era di studenti. Una volta, a Padova — ricorda (^esare Musatti
nella Rivista tealrale italiana — egli aveva annunciata una a Maria Antonietta»,
tragedia « di penna italiana » ; ma aile prime due scène il pubblico comincia
a gridare : « Abbasso Maria Antonietta! Volemo rider! Fora Duse M»
Il capocomico viene alla ribalta e dice : «No ve scaldé el iigà, fioi mii. V'a-
veva parecià un lavoro coi fiochi, coi so relativi scenari, e gnente manco'^
che la vista délia Sennaarrabbiata in lontananza. » Ma il pubblico : " Gnenle,
gnente ; abbasso la Senna e anco la Manna ^ ! Volemo rider, volemo rider... »
1. Dialetto veneziano. Intendi : Vogliamo ridere. — 2. Non scaldatevi il fegato,
figli miei. Vi ho appareccliiato un laooro coi fiocchi (cioè : magniflco, chic) coi suoi
retalivi scenari, e niente meno.... — 3. Giuoco di parole. La senna e la manna sono
due purganti.
116 PAUIE ITALIANA [708]
E lui : « Fioi mii, go speso una montagna de svanzeghe ; recordeve che el
lavoro xe de penna italiana '^. » Ma allora délia penna ilaliana il pubblico
s'infischiava. « De penna d'oca », urlavano gli stiidenti. E il capocomico,
rassegnalo : «« Ben, senti : mandarerao a Patrasso anche Maria Antonielta
(applausi strepilosi). Ma cossa voleu che ve démo in canibio ° ? » Si grida :
(( Le trentatre disgracie dArlechin » ; grandi applausi, e il Duse : « Ben, ve
daremo Le trentatre disgrazie d' Arlechin ] bastache se boni e no me fè deven-
lar mat! ^. » In un batler d'occhio Maria Antonietta si transforma in Colombina,
la signora di Lamballe in Rosaura, Robespierre in Arlecchino, Luigi XVI in
Pantalone e il carnetice Sanson in Giacometo « meza camisa ^ » . . .
4. Fiçili miei, ho speso una montagna di svanziglie (moneta rt'argento, zwanzig) ;
ricorddtevi che il lavoro è di penna italiana. — 5. Cosa voleté che vi diamo in
cambio ? — 6. Basta che siote buoni e non mi facciate diventar matto. — 1. mezza
cnmicia. Nome d'un tipo popolare.
Bugana ligure.
Era un vecchio paese, sopra un colle, poco discosto da Sanremo, che il ter-
rcmoto delTottantasette aveva terribilmente rovinato. Tutti gli abitanti ne
erano migrati a costruirsi un altro paese più giù, presso al mare, erano
migrati, dopo l'accampamento dipiii mesi in vecchie baracche, processional-
mente, nella domenica délie Palme, con le statue dei loro santi, e primo il
pesante crocitisso che uno solo, il più gagliardu, poteva portare, erano migrati,
agitando vette di palme e ramuscelli di olivo e cantando : « In exitu Israël
de Egi/pto ».
A vederla dal basso, accastellata su un colle, grigia di vecchiezza nella tur-
china serenità, ma col suo campanile e con le sue mura esterne ancor diritte
nel sole, Bugana, non suggeriva l'imagine délia distruzione. Le ripe odora-
vano di un odor selvatico e soave, commisto di tieno, di ginepro, di rame-
rino. Airingresso del paese una grande palma, moveva le fronde corne a un
saluto : entrando sui primi passi, la stradii sgombra di macerie, con i suoi
archi intatti, le porte chiuse sulle soglie di pietra ancor lucide dall'uso quo-
tidiano di scdervisi a conversare, un ciuffodi maggiorana che si spandeva i'uor
d'una latta a un davanzale quasi prosperando per le cui-e di una massais,
prolungavano un'illusione di vita.
Ma fatti poclii passi ecco la ruina appariva : si vedevano i cardini contorti
délie portedivelte, lelinestre coi telai infranti, le vôlte profondate, una scala
mezza sul vuoto, muraglie gibbose * traversais da screpolii per oui azzurreg-
giava il cielo, cumuli di rottami, dondo spuntava lo stronoone di un ferro ;
ma atratti fra la ruina, un piccolo giardino, un brève orto, vende corne ancor
coltivato : ultimasperanza.che sopravviveva alla desolazione. E di sulmurodi
)uio, offriva i suoi rami carichi di frutli, un arancio.
Tutto questo, nel silenzio d'abbandono, che l'avvolgeva e per cui i passi
echeggiavano stranamente sonori, accresceva la tristezza, faceva pii!i récente,
quasi di ieri, la distruzione, ne rendeva il dolore come ancor présente.
Sul piazzale délia chiesa pareva che la distruzione ostentasse tutto il suo
scénario : la facciata délia chiesa mezzo abbattuta, le case di fronte comple-
tamente dislrutte, cumuli di macerie qua e là ondeggianti già d'erba, come
piccoli colli. L'erba si insinuava dovunque, umile conquistatrice d'ogni piii
grande cosa, trcmolava a un soffio d'aria di sulla slabbratura - di un muro,
pendcva fra gli stucchi délia chiesa, nascondeva già «luasi il selciato délia piaz-
zetta, sforzava i suoi esili fili traie lastre di un porticato, ancor saldo, listata
dall'ombra quieta degli archi. Il sole abbagliava di su quel pietrame.
F. Pastonciii *.
1. gobbe. — 2. orlo. — * dal romaiizo II Yioli.nista in corso di pubblicazione.
[709]
PARTS ITALIANA
117
La religione materna.
Dall'oriente ascoso
Entro notturne bende '
Per calle - avventuroso
Un pellegrino ascende,
A cui fedel lucerna
Diè nel partir la carità materna.
È l'orizzonte oscuro,
Incognito il camrnino;
Pur a que' rai securo,
Ascende il pellegrino,
Verso la Patria ignota,
Che scorge in fondo ail' avveriir
[remota.
Ma candido barlunie
Già rompe in ciel ' : vacilla
E si scolora il lume
Dubbioso alla pupilla
Del viator*, che a stento
Anco il ricopre colla man dalvento.
Più del camrnino acquista,
E più del sol che nasce
L'avvalorata vista
1. cioè : nascoslo entro le ténèbre not-
turne. — 2.sentiero. — 3. il poeta intende
con qiiesto nuovo lume le passioni, gl'in-
teressi "vari délia vita, la cui intensltii
offusca per un po'l'affetto verso la madré
e il ricordo di lei. — 4. viaggiatore.
Maravigliando ei pasce ;
(iià l'umil kimpa oblia
Al cui santo splcndor prese la via.
Sul mezzodi procède,
E nel chiarore immenso
Spenta la lampa ei crede
Perché velata al senso.
Folle credenza ! eterno
Vive il ricordo dell'amor materno.
Al termin del sentiero
Sale a ponente un monte,
11 sol déclina : in nero
Si tinge l'orizzonte.
Al tremolar distinta
ïorna lalampach'eicredevaestinta,
Turnail bel raggio, e torna
Lontana ricordanza
D'una chiesuola adorna,
D'una solinga stanza,
Ove materna fede
La lampa accese che al partir gli
[diede.
Sereno avanza il passo
Per l'aria tenebrosa,
Fincliè sa brève sasso
Stanco la lampa ei posa ;
Posa aspettando il messo,
Che lorinnovi nel materno amplesso.
Giacomo Zanella,
(1820-1889).
Il cuscino délia Contessa Confalonieri*.
La contGJsa Teresa Casati Confalonieri era venuta a Vienna per otte-
nere la grazia di suo marito i. Il di fatale délia decisione, a mezzanotte, il
corriere era partito con la senlenza di morte. La biiona impératrice spedi
un ciambellano alla contessa perché recasse - con dignitoso silenzio il
dolore deU'angelica sua sovrana di non aver potuto ottenere salvezza.
Teresa Confalonieri, malgrado l'ora tarda, voie in legno a palazzo ; e
l'impératrice, già ritirata, non poté ricusare di riceverla ; pianse, pianse,
e lo strazio fu si irresistibile, che l'impératrice, scapigliata, corse nella
caméra del consorte, e dopo alcun tempo (che secolo di strazio dovette
essere per Teresa !) venne con la grazia délia vita ! — Presto, presto,
bisognava raggiungere il corriere, oltrepassarlo, — ei portava la sentenza
di morte ! Teresa si gettù in legno, e senza aver mai posa, e pagando
quattro 0 sei volte di più ipostiglioni esorbendo qualclieliquido per tutto
cibo, giunse in tempo a Milano, e Federico campùdal patibolo.
*Vedi le altre quattro parti.
1. Federico Confalonieri condannato dall'Austria per carbonarisme. — 2. Comuni-
cassBj apprendesse alla contessa Confalonieri.
118 l'AKTE JTALIANA [710j
Durante il viaggio ella aveva riposato il capo sopra un cuscinetto che
inzuppo di lagrime; lacrime oradi ansia mortale di non giiingere a tempo,
ora di speranza, ora d'amore coniugaie.
Questo confidente del piùsolenne, del più tragico momento délia vita
dei due sposi, fu consegnato ai giudici di Federico che lo avevano con-
dannato a morte: essi religiosamei)te lo rimiseroal salvato marito. Venue
cou quello allô Spielberg. Là spoglialo di tutti gli abili suoi^ incatenato,
giacente sulla paglia, privo di ogni comodo, non si separô mai dal suo
cuscinetto.
Piero Maroncklli'.
3. Compagno di Silvio Pellico e di Confalonieri nella prigionia dello Spielberg. 11
brano è tratto dalle Aggiunte aile Mie Piugioni.
La stordita.
La MADRE, Annetta, GlGI.
Madré (detlando a Gigi). — Quando Vittorio Amedeo II vide
davanti a se un cosi forte nucleo di alleati (interrompendosi) ma
e quelTAnnetta che non viene ! Dove si sarà cacciata?
Gigi. — Ne avrà fatta una délie sue.
Madré. — Già, al solilo ; quella ragazza è sempre nelle nuvole, sempre
distralta. Oh eccola qua tinalmente {entra Antiella con una penna infissa
dielro l'orecchio, uno scartafaccio in mano, e il grembiule messo alla
rovescia). Ma dove sel stata linora, benedetta ragazza?
Annetta. — 0 mamma, non trovo la niia penna, l'ho cercata dapper-
tutto, ma non son riuscita a trovarla.
Madré. — Vieni un po' qua.
(Annetta s'avvicina.)
Madré. — Ma se lo dico io che sei una stordita incorreggibile. Eccola
qua col grembiule alla rovescia.
An.netta [si guarda). — Alla rovescia ? Non me n'ero accorta.
Madré. — E quando mai t'accorgi di ([ualcosa tu ? (rimetlendole il grem-
biule alla diritta) via, sbrigati che sei già rimasta indietro nel dettato.
Gigi [che^ lasciando di scrivere, s'è avvicinalo alla sorella, scoppia a
ridere.). — Ah, ah, ah !
Madré. — Che c'è, Gigi?
Gigi. — Ah, ah, ah, dov'è andata la penna di Annetta ! poteva davvero
cercarla dappertutto che non la trovava(///ie/rt crjya di dietro l'orecchio e
gliela présenta. Annetta, con fusa, tacc).
Madré. — Oh Annetta, Annetta ; ma non vuoi dunque correggerti? Ma
a che pensi quando fai le tue cose ? Dove hai la testa, si potrebbe sapere ?
Annetta (confusa). — Non so.
Madhe. — Ah davvero che neanche io lo so. Ma non t'accorgi che a
questo modo perdi un tempo énorme, che non cavi mai un costrutto da
quello che fai ?
Annetta. — Si, mamma.
Madue. — SI mamuia, si mamma; dici sempre cosi, e dopo un po',
daccapo, e peggio di prima.
Annetta. — No, mamma, questa volta dico sul serio.
[711] PARTE ITALIANA 119
Madré. — Ci ho i miei dul)bi. Basta mettiti li e scrivi anche tu la
lezione di storia. Intanto, poichè sei arrivata in ritardo, saltauna mezza
pagina, per metterti alla pari di tuo fratello ; io dopo ti detterô cio che ti
manca.
Annetta. — Si, mamma (si accinge a scrivere. Suonano ilcampaneUo) .
Madré. — Suonano. Ah, è la donna che porta il latte. Va ad aprire,
Annetta, le dirai che ne lasci per quattro soldi. [Annetta si avvia.) Nel
solito recipiente. sai bene ?
AiNNETTA. — Si, mamma, so [esce).
Madré. — Speriamo non ne faccia iina délie solite, intanto tu, Gigi,
continua a scrivere. Dove eravaino rimasti ?
GiGi [rxleggendo). — Quando Yittorio Amedeo H vide davanti a se un
cosi forte nucleo di alleati. . .
Madré {continua). — ... invoco l'intervento délie armi austriache, e lu
allora che venue in suo aiuto il suo illustre cugino e famoso guerriero
Eugenio di Savoia [Nuova e pià forte scampaiicllaia.)Ma che è mai?
Che lAnnetta non sia andafa ad aprire? {si alza.)
Annetta {entra con una gabbietta in mano). — 0 mamma, guarda
com'è carino, se vedessi come saltella.
Madré . — Ma che fai ?
Annetta. — È Liii, mamma, il canarino, quelloch'era sempre rimasto
in un cantuccio senza muoversi; adesso a un tratto s'è messo a saltellare,
e vedi com'è grazioso.
Madre. — Ma e la donna del latte ? Non sei endata ad aprirle ?
Annetta. — La donna del latte '? Che donna del latte? (a un tratto si
ricorda, e, lasciando cader la gabbia, si précipita fuori mentre risuona
una terza più formidabile scampanellata. Gigi ride come unpazzo, tenen-
dosi i fianchi.)
Madre {arrabbiatissima). — Ah quella ragazza, mi fa perdere la testa !
Io non riesco assolutamente a correggerla. Sempre distratta, sempre nel
mondo délie nuvole. Se continua cosi non so proprio che diverrà pnr-
lando ha raccattato la gabbia e Vha messa sul tavolo).
(Annetta rientra mortifîcata.)
Madre. — Oh ! Eccola qua. Ebbene, hai preso il latte?
Annetta. — L'ho preso.
Madre. — Quanti soldi ?
Annetta. — Mi pareva. . .
Madre. — Ti pareva ?
Annetta. — Che avevi detto quattro.
Madre. — Oh ! Ne ha fatto una giusta ! E li hai fatti mettere nella
solita scodella ?
Annetta. — Si, mamma.
Madre. — E hai pagato ?
Annetta. — Ho pagato.
Madre. — Sia lodato il cielo che non hai fatto qualche nuovo strafal-
cione. Via, meltiti a scrivere; s'è già perso tempo abbastanza (Annetta si
siede. Suonano unaltra voUa). Oh se par vero ? oggi non ci lasciano in
pace un minuto. Andro io a vedere chi c'è (esce).
GuA (nel silenzio che segue canticchia sottovoce). — Una voila c'era
una testina, molto frullina, molto fruUina.
Madre (affacciandosi). — Sentite, ragazzi, c è la sarta ch' è venuta
l'20 PARTE ITALIANA [712]
per misurarmi un vestito; devo fermarmi di là qualcbe minuto. Intanto,
per guadagnar tempo, tu, Gigi, detta a tua sorella quel pezzo di lezione
di storia che le manca [per vscire). — Mi raccomando, Annetta, scrivi
bene, pulito, senza sallar parole.
Annetta. — Si, mamma [la madré e.sce).
Gigi [voltando ilfoglio del suo quaderno). — Dunque, dettiamo. [menlre
cerca canlicchia ancora :) G'era una volta una testina... Ah ecco qua;
metti in mezzo per titolo : Pietro Micca.
Annetta {scrivendo). — Pietro. . . Micca.
Gigi. — A cape {detta). Nel 1706 gravi minaccie di guerra pendevano
sul piccolo Piemonte.
Annetta {ripete piano le parole fino a guerra). — Guerra. E poi?
Gigi. — ... pendevano sul piccolo Piemonte.
Annetta (es.). — pendevano. . . sul piccolo. . . Chiomonte.
Gigi. —Chiomonte ? Ma che dici ? oh, dove hai la testa ?
Annetta (cancellando). — Scusa, corne avevi detto ?
Gigi. — Piemonte, diamine, Piemonte ! Chiomonte ! Che ti passa
pel capo '1
Annetta. — Pensavo a quest'estate quando eravamo in campagna a
Chiomonte.
Gigi. — Ah, benissimo.
Annetta. —Ma ho già corretto, Piemonte. E poi ?
Gigi. — La Francia era ai bei giorni délia potenza di Luigi XIY.
Annetta [ripete). — La Francia... era... (alza lo sr/uardo e vedendo sul
iavolo la gahbia col canarino, cessa di scrivere). Oh com'è carino, hai
visto, Gigi ? Saltella di nuovo. Lili, Lilî.
Gigi. — Oh ma insomma, che fai ? lo ti detto storia e tu guardi il cana-
rino.
[Continua.)
Awe.
Varietà.
Fedeltà caniaa.
La storia semplice e commovete délia fedeltà canina s'arricchisce d'un
nuovo episodioche stralciamo dalla cronaca délia SentineHa Bresciana. Ad
un piccolo cane nero hannoarrestato il padrone, il quale nelle carceri del
Broletto fu posto in una cella a grosse inferriate che guarda verso il cor-
tile. Il piccolo cane randagio, da quel giorno s'è messo a cercarlo correndo
per lecontrade, liutando gli angoli délie case e le soglie delle porte, por-
lando attorno in una corsa vagabonda il musetto basso e la coda penzo-
loni. Finalmente l'istinto meraviglioso lo pose sulla buona traccia ed
eccolo ogni giorno ad una certa ora del pomeriggio entrare nel cortile del
vecchio palazzo, insinuarsi fra i pilastri e guardare insistentemente la
linestra dietro cui è il padrone. Non appena di tra la rete fosca delle
sbarre una forma umana compare, la piccola bestiola va in festa mugo-
lando, sgambettando e dimenando la coda .. : cosi peralcuni minnli, poi
allunga timidamente il musetto in un'espressione di doloroso commiato
c parte di corsa colla rapidità d'una freccia.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 16.
20 Mai 1908.
%" Année.
PARTE ITALIANA
La casetta del Petrarca in Arqua.
Nel 1370, di ritorno da Avignone, Francesco Petrarca prese dimoraad Arqua,
ncUa casetta che i Carraresi gli donarono ; qui compose alcune délie sue
canzoni più belle, in vista deile amené colline e délie valli che gli ricorda-
Arquà. — Casa del Petrarca (Ed"» AUnari).
vano i dolci paesaggi di Valchiusa, qui una mattina — il 18 luglio 1374 — fu
trovato morto col capo appoggiato ail' Enéide di Virgilio.
La casetta rustica e modesta fu ed è meta di pellegrinaggio a letterati,
patriolti, principi, sovrani. Vi si conservano la credenza e la poltrona che
servirono al Petrarca, e gli omaggi di visitatori, Iracui il famoso sonelto del-
l'Alfieri scritto a lapis sul muro
0 cameretta che già in te chiudesti
Quel Grande alla cul fama è angusto il mondo...
di cui si leggono solo le due quartine, e vi si conserva un album su cui da
secoli i visitatori han tracciato le loro firme e i loro pensieri.
[95] ITAL. 16
122 PARIE ITALIANA [754]
Intorno a questo album Arnaldo Fraccaroli puliblica un gustosissimo arti-
colo suiruliimo numéro délia Letiura, meltendo in mostra a qiiali curiosi
sfoghi individuali dian talora ricetio raccoUe di qiiella fatta.
'< lo Andréa Major — cosi leggesi in data del 1799 — in conipagnia délia
signora Annelta Spineda e dei signori Luigi Spineda e Vincenzo Capcllo liu
pagato un ti'ibuto alla curiosila ed alla moda venendo a visitare con molta
fatica e caldo questo célèbre luogo, ed bo provato solo il rincrescimento, ohe
il gran Petrarca non si fosse scelta un'abitazione abbasso del monte, ed in
sito comodo, a benefizio dei suoi ammiratori. »
« Andate un po' a scrivere dei versi — commenta il Traccaroli — verra poi
délia gente a lamentarsi che non abbiate cercato di morire in un luogo per
dove passi la ferrovia. »
I più illustri sono i piii umili e si contentano spesso di apporre la sola
firma ; cosi Lord Byron che fii ad Arqua, 1' 11 settembre 1817, Lamartine nel
1824, Ginseppe Giusli nel 1840 e Carducci nel 1874.
Ippolito Pindemonte, nel 1S26, vi scrive un sonetto, dei gentili versi
patriollici Erminia Fuà-Fusinato nel 1852 — quando il Veneto era ancora
sotto l'Austria. L'epoca in cui Tltalia fremeva indomata sotto le catene del-
l'Auslria, aspirando alla libertà, ha larga eco nell' album.
Dormira sempre, e non fia clii la svegli ' ?
scrive nel 1845Nicolo Tommaseo, e Cesare Cantù piange suiritalia
Mesta che l'Arno e il Po, Napoli e Roma
Abbiano a chieder i tuoi plausi in\'ano,
Giorgio Trivulzio e Gino Capponi mettono i loro nomi e solto una sola
parola « Italiani ! »
Moite scritte sono ridicole : c'è gente che lamenta le sue sventure, mogli
che si lagnano del proprio mari to, maritiche si lagnano délia propria moglie,
fanciuUe che invocano luio sposo, madri che vantano la proie, e tutto ciô in
nome di Peti-arca e di Laura. Una délie ultime firme notevoli è qiiella di
Pietro Mascagni che ha trascritto un motivo àçW Arnica
V\i\ presse al ciel
Più lontan dalla terra...
« La frase, proseguc il Fraccaroli, dice un pensiero che viene spontaneo.
Una visita ad Arqua c cosa che éleva, che rasséréna. Nella borgata, ches'ad-
dossa al monte corne se le case si strisciassero lungo le roccc per lasciarvi
passare, c'è una tranquillita lieta, una pace chiara e limpida. Intorno, un
verdeggiar fresco di ulivi e un allinearsi di vigne ben pettinate, e lontano il
distendersi délia pianura intlnita, nel digradar lento dei colli.
« È veramente un paesaggio di poesia, questo : di poesia petrarchesca. La [)ic-
cola Arqua ha agginnto da secoli al suo nome ilnomeglorioso del poeta corne
una sposa che assuma nuovo casato. E ne è tanto lieta e cosi orgogliosa che
essa vuol restare per sempre vincolata allô sposo morto, e si chiama ancora
cosi : Arquà-Petrarca. »
1. s'intende : l'italia.
Il manoscritto délia « Nave » donato a Venezia.
Gabriele D'Annunzioha voluto offrirea Venezia il manoscritto délia « Nave »,
e rha fatto con una letlera altisonante indirizzata al sindaco délia città. Il
consiglio comunale di Venezia si è diviso fra i due partitidi coloro che accet-
tavano il dono e di coloro che io respingevano dict'udo che il dramma,
[755] PARTE ITALIANA 123
anzi che esaltare le origini di Venezia, le vilipendeva'. Il partito di coloro che
acceltavano trlonfo ; il 27 aprile avvenne la solenne consegna, e Gabriele
D'Annunzio, dopo aver rimesso al primo cittadino di Venezia il manoscritlo
— un grosso plico ricoperlo di drappo rosso antico e legato in croce — pro-
nunziô le seguenti parole :
ft Mentre col piîi profonde ossequio ringrazio le Signorie Loro delTonore
grande che mi fanno accogliendomi nella sede stessa del Comiine ed accet-
lando qiiesta tcslimonianza délia mia devozione, io sen'o più grave il peso
dell'atto compiuto^e più forte il rammarico di non aver sapnto costringere
iielle carte se non una piccola immaginedi un sogno superbo. Mentre racco-
mando ad un Grimaiii il mio manoscritto, avvolto nel lembo di drappo rosso,
che è forse framniento di veste solenne appartenuta ad un magistrato délia
Repubblica, mi viene alla memoria e mi umilia la magnificenza di un libro
che, considerato conie incomparabile tesoro, perpétua nella Marciaiia il
nome délia stessa casata dogale ed è gioia segreta e perenne degli occbi che
sanno mirarla^. Mentre a rincuorar me stesso invoco l'asprezza délia fatica
durata e l'ampiezza délia trattata materia, mi si ripresenta e mi morde ^ la
magnanima concisione propria degli antichi servitori délia Dominante, i
quali serravano nello scorcio di una parola potente, la 'somma dei più alti
fatti operati dalla loro virtù. Penso che la mia opéra incontro alla grandezza
ed alla bellezza di Venezia somigli a quegli oscuri caratteri che, grafiti da
aiano barbarica, si sovrappongono ai segni dello scalpello greco su i leoni al
Pireo, recali dal Peloponnesiaco^ e posti all'entrata dell'Arzanà. Ma se Topera
non mi vale, mi valgano dunque dinanzi ai cittadiui eletti e innanzi al popolo,
la forza e la piiritk delfamore che sono indubitabili e non saranno per man-
care giammai. »
Il sindaco, conte Grimani, rispose alcnne nobilisemplici parole, augurando
al D'Annunzio che in grazia al « suo genio di poeta e alla meravigliosa sua
eonoscenza deU'italico idioma » egli possa compiere altri lavori « tali che
infiammino il cuore dei giovani nell'amore délia patria ed esaltando l'antico
eroismo e le virtù del popolo italiano, siano a questo ammonimento e sprone
a generosi propositi ».
i. offendeva, avviliva. — 2. allude probabilmente al Codice Veneto di Omero. La
Marciana è l'amosa biblioteca di Venezia. — 3. mi addolora. — 4. Francesco Morosini
(1618-1694) vincitore dei Turchi.
La donna e i libri.
Dal 20 al 30 aprile si tenue in Roma il primo Congresso femminista italiano, a cui
parteciparono piîi di mille donne di tutte le classi sociali e di tutti i partiti. Nel con-
gresso furono dibal'ute questioni di morale, di beneficenza, di legalità, fu propu-
gnata la concessione del voto politico alla donna ; anche fu trattata ampiamente la
questione deUa coltura délia donna. A questo proposito la presidentessa délia sezione
« Letteratura ed arte », Dora Melegari, lesse la lettera indiriz^atale da Antonio Fogaz-
zaro che qui volentieri riproduciamo :
Vicenza, Pasqua del 1908.
Illustre signora,
Ella mi chiede il mio pensiero circa l'utilità di sviluppare nella donna
l'amore del libro. Le rispondo come posso, rapidamente. Mi sarebbe facile di
aCfermare questa utilità in astratto stando suite generali, ne dispererei di saper
mettere insieme un certo numéro di frasi nobili e sonanti, ma mi ripugna
la vanilà évidente di un taie esercizio retorico. Tranne, forse, qualche
124 PARTE ITALIANA [756]
barbogio ' lodatore del passato, qualche eccentrico amante del paradosso,
qiialche poco riflessivo padre o marito o moralista sgomentato dei liltri cat-
tivi, qualche ignorante e spiritoso giovane che fiigge la conversazione délie
signorine colte^ nessuno al mondo — io credo — dovrebbe più tenere la
donna lontana dal libro.
E appunto chi fosse invilato 11 per li a dirne il perché, parlerebbe con mag-
giore 0 minore chiarezza, con maggiore o minore eflicacia dei vantaggi del
libro per le madri sollecite di istraire ed educare i loro figliuoli, perle spose
desiderose di mantenere un contatto intelletliiale coi loro mariti, aile ragazze
per le quali la ciiltura è preparazione appunto allô slato coniugale ed alla
maternità ed è insieme ornamcnto attraente. A qiiesle affermazioni è difficile
contraddire sul serio. Quando si completino col loro solo interesse dicendo
aile madri, spose e fanciulle che devono preferire quelle letture che meglio
rispondono aile loro particolari nécessita, si avranno dei veri e proprî assiorai
morali, délie verità che affatto non abbisognano di dimostrazione.
Forse un po' meno évidente al senso coniune è la utilità di estenderc
intorno alla donna la cerchia délie cose che interessano la sua intelligenza,
il siio sentimento morale e sociale, di elevarne Io spirito aile considerazioni
di qualche idea générale. Troppe donne — anche délie classi superiori, anche
buone, anche passate per molti gradi di scuole — sono miseramente inditfe-
renti a tutto quello che è oltre Tangusto giro délia loro famiglia, dei loro
piaceri e doveri mondani, délie loro pratiche di culto; si mostrano misera-
mente incapaci di occupare la mente in qualche idea di carattere astratto.
Allargando, mediante opportune letture, la cerchia dei loro interessi intel-
lettuali, morali e sociali, esse moltiplicherebbero i loro contatli spirituali
reciproci e quindi le cooperazioni délie loro énergie buone, con vantaggio
délia socielà inticra.
Anche questo è sufficientemcnte ovvio^; ma come ottenere che l'amore
del libro sorga dove non ne esiste il germe? Ecco il problema la cui solu-
zione pratica importa. Arduo problema perché, se moite donne nascono di-
sposte alla piii avida cupidigia di qualsiasi libro, moltissime ne nascono punto
disposte airamorc di alcun libro ne buono ne cattivo. Non tutte quesle
ultime sono poco intelligenti ; ma il predicare loro l'amore del libro ad edu-
cazione compiula, quando la vila le ha già prese secondo i loro desideri e le
loro attitudini, non gioverebbe. Ispirarlo è compito degli educatori. Dove
non è intelligenza, non riusciranno; dove è intelligenza un'arte adeguata
deve riuscire. Forse qui è una seconda grave lacuna délia educazione
moderna. Agli uomini non si insegna a parlare, aile donne non si insegna a
leggere. Si guarda communemente nella scella délie loro letture al valore
intrinseco, assoluto dei libri e stabene, ma, volendo farli amare, si dovrebbe
guardare meglio alla loro amabilità, al loro valore relative per la giovinetta,
cui devono riuscire graditi come non sempre i libri scritti esprcssamente per
giovinette riescono. Non si sanno sacrificare alla lettura libéra, per crearne
Tabitudine, alcune di quelle troppo lunghe ore dcdicate nelle scuole e negli
educandali ad infarcire la memoria di materia morta, che poi la memoria
non tarda a respingere come l'organismo vivente un corpo estraneo. Lo studio
délie lingue, che ha tanta parte neirislruzione femminile odierna, pare ordi-
nato piuttosto alla conversazione che alla lettura inentre se si guardasse meno
alla apparenza esterna e piii al nutrimenlo dello spirito, dovrebbe essere
Topposto. Lo studio délie lingue conduee ad arricchire la suppellettile dei
libri salutarniente amabili, ne conviene esagerare a questo proposito le
prcoccupazioni patriottiche, chè sarebbe angustia di giudizio.
Io mi auguro vivamente, fignora, che dal Congresso di iioma — dove cer-
tamente a lei spetta una parte direttiva — parla inipulso efficace ad intro-
1. vecchio barbogio = rimbainbito, svanito di mente. — 2. chiiu-o, palese.
[757]
PARTE ITALIANA
12o
durre nelleducazione délia donna questo eiemento di progresse civile. Tanto
piu sarà efficace, quanto meglio determinato in proposte concrète. Il senno,
Tesperienza di lei, di tante altre valent! donne che partecipano al Gongresso,
mi assicurano délia bontà di queste proposte, le quali difticilmente potrebbero
formnlarsi bene da uomini.
Mi place soggiungere qualche cosa che mi rimorderebbe di tacere. Toc-
cando dei benefici che il libro puô recare alla donna ho accennato al molti-
plicarsi dellc buone énergie femminili associate. Beneficio grande, non ho u
disdirmi; non pero il maggiore da sperarsi. Beneficio supremo a cercarsi nel
libro, beneficio a cui devesi mirare sempre nell'insieme delFopera educativa,
è la elevazione dello spirito femminile aU'amore di quel principi generali
che, attiiati nella società umana, renderebbero la donna perfetta e forte-
mente amala nella famiglia; la renderebbero un focolare di idealità, nna
nutfice di utili cittadini, una cellula ricca di siicchi vitali nell'organismo
délia patria.
Gradisca, illustre signera, i niiei devoti omaggi.
Suo Antonio Fogazzaro.
Pianto antico*.
L'albero a cui tendevi
La pargoletta' mano,
Il verde meiograno
Da' bei vermigli tior,
* E'sul suo bambino, morto da sette
mesi, che il poeta piange. L'orto di
cui parla si stendeva dietro la casa dove
il Cai'diicci abitava dacchè era a Bolo-
gna ; il piccolo Dante soleva baloccar-
visi e coglieva, a matura stagione, i
l'ossi flori di un meiograno che vi cam-
peggiava in mezzo (Ual commentario
di Mazzoni e Picciola).
i . infantile^ piccola.
Nel inuto orto solingo"
Rinverdi tutlo or ora
E giugno lo ristora
Di luce e di calor.
Tu tior de la mia planta
Percossa '^ e inaridita,
Tu de l'inutil vita
Estremo unico tior,
Sel nella terra fredda,
Sel nella terra negra
Né il sol più ti rallegra
Ne ti risveglia amor.
1871.
Giosue Garducci.
2. solitario. — 3. colpita, ferita.
Goethe*.
I
Ciù che pel lettore francese ed inglese contraddistingue Gœthe è l'abi-
tudine, ch'egli ha comune colla sua nazione, di riierirsi costantemente a
una verità interiore. In Inghilterra ed in America l'ingegno è rispettato,
e se questo è impiegato a difendere un interesse o un partito riconosciuto
0 di cui si comprenda l'esistenza, o anche a combatterli regolarmente,
il pubblico è sodisfatto. In Francia è ancor maggiore il diletto che pro-
duce di per se stessa una smagliante manifestazione intellettuale. E in
tutti questi paesi gli uomini d'ingegno scrivono per ringegno; che l'intel-
ligenza sia occupata, il gusto blandito, che un certo numéro di pagine e
un certo numéro d'ore siano riempite in modo piacevole e conveniente,
questo basta. L'intellettualità del tedesco manca délia vivacità francese,
* Vedi le altre quattro parti.
126 PARTE ITALIANA [758'
del iine senso pratico inglese e deilo spirito avveiitiu'oso degli ainericani ;
ma in coinpenso è dotato di una-probità clie non si appaga dell' osserva-
zione superliciale, e costantemenle chiede « per quale scopoi » Il pnh-
blico ledesco prétende una sincerità a tutta prova. Ecco un'attività intel-
lettiiale : che cosa si propone ? clie intende quest'individno? donde
provengono questi pensieri ?
Il solo ingegno non basta a tare uno scrittore, ma bisogna che dietro il
libro stia Tuonio, una personalità che, per nascita e per inclil na-
zione, sia legata aile dottrine che présenta, ed esista per vedere e far
vedere le cose in un modo e non altrimenti, attenendosi ad esse oggelti-
vamente.
Se anche egli non è capace, quest'oggi, di esprimere il suo concetto, le
cose sussistono e domani si manifesteranno. SuUa sua mente grava il
peso —il peso délie verità che dovràannunciare — piùomeno inconipreso,
ed è suo utïicioe sua vocazione nel mondo, penetrare i fatti e renderli ma-
nifesti. Che importa s'egli incespica e balbetta, se la sua voce è aspra e
sibilante, se il suo metodo o le sue tigure sono inadeguate? 11 messaggio
troverà ben da se il suo metodo e le sue immagini, la sua espressione e
la sua melodia ; anche muto esso parlerebbe.
E se cio non è — se in queU'uomo non ci fosse quel verbo divino — che
c'importa la sua abilità, la sua eloquenza, il suo splendore ?
{Continua.) Emerson.
La stordita.
(GONTINUAZIOiNE.
Annetta. — È vero, ma è tanto carino.
GiGi,— Etu sei insopportabile. 0 scrivi, o smetto didettare, e pol dira
alla mamma che non facevi attenzione.
An.netta. - No, no, detta.
GiGi. — Dove si era rimasli? Ah ecco. La Francia era ai beigiorni délia
potenza di Luigi XIV.
Annetta. — La Francia era ai bei giorni (alza la testa furlivamente
piano perché Gigi non oda). Ss, Lili, ss. . .
GiGi. — Annetta !
Annetta {torna a scrivere precipitosamente) . — ai bei giorni dell'-
influenza. . .
Gigi (ironico). — dell'influenza. . . . E poi ?
Annetta. — Non so.
Gigi [es.]. — del granMogol.
Annetta {completamente distralta, scrive). — Del gran Mogol.
Gigi {da se). — Oh la distratta, la distrattona ! Non s'è neanche
accorta che la burlavo. Ah, è cosi che stai attenta? Ebbene, aspetta.
Annetta. — Del gran Mogol. Ho scritto.
Gigi {detta con tutta gravita). — E ilUe gli fece scrivere la seguente
dichiarazione :
(Annetta scrive.)
Gigi (c. 5.). — Dichiaro io sottoscritta di essere la piii grande sbadata,
la più grande stordita, la più gran testa vuota diquantene esistono,econ
questo atto do piena autorizzazione... {interrompendosi). Haicapito bene?
[759] PARTE ITALIANA 127
Annetta. — Si, benissimo.
GiGi. — È sempre il re che parla.
Annetta. — Se ti dico che ho capito; ma guarda Lili, ô un po' che mi
sta dinanzi osservandomi cou un occhietto aperto e uno chiuso.
GiGi. — È molto intéressante, inlatti, ma tu scrivi.
Annetta. — Eh, scrivo.
GiGi [délia). — Do piena autorizzazione a chiunque mi passidavanti di
dire ad alta voce segnandomi a dito « Ecco la scimunita ».
Annetta {che ha scritlo correnlemenle). — Ho scritto.
GiGi. — Allora il Ministro gli rispose. . . [entra la niadre).
Madré. — Ah bene! (a Gigï). Hai finito di dettarle il brano mancante?
GiGi. — Ho finito, mamma; se credi puoi fartelo rileggere ad alta voce,
cosi vedrai se Annetta è stata attenta, non ha saltato nessun vocaboio.
Madré. — Infatti; leggi, Annetta.
Annetta [legge). — Pietro Micca. Nel 17013 gravi minacce di guerra
pendevano sul piccolo Piemonte. La Francia era ai bei giorni deirin-
fluenza del gran Mogol.
(Madré alza gli occhi dal libro. GiGi le fa vivamenle e ripetu lamente
segno di tacere.)
Annetta (prosegve impavida). — E il Re gli fece scrivere la seguente
dichiarazione : « Dichiaro io sottoscritta di essere la più grande sbadata,
la più grande stordita [ha lelto le ultime parole più adagio. A questo
punto s'arresta e continua a leggere a hassa voce, poi getla il quaderno e
scoppia a piangere col volto ira le mani.)
Madré {raccatta il quaderno e vi getla uno sguardo). — Ed è cosi che
stai attenta, cosi che hai mantenuta la promessa di poco prima?
Annetta ipiangendo). — Mamma, ma Gigi è cattivo, pessimo, è un
traditore.
Madré. — lo non dico, no, che Gigi abbia fatto bene, ma una lezione,
via, tu la meritavi.
(Annetta fa l'alto di lacerare il quaderno.)
Madré {arrestandola). — Ah no, cara mia, questo no. (Juella pagina
anzi devi conservarla ben preziosa, e metterla in caméra tua in qualche
luogo in vista. E se il disgusto di essere stata burlata cosi a fondo senza
che tu te n'avvedessi ti f'arà rinsanire e ti persuadera di pensare a quello
che l'ai, ebbene, potrai dire d'essertela cavata a buon prezzo.
AWE.
Varietà.
La cucina abissîna.
La cucina degli abissini è una délie cose più barbare che si possano
immaginare. L'incautoche tenti una vivanda senza aver preso le dovute
precauzioni, non puù trattenere un'amara smorfia di dolore. Solo la famé
puo assuefare qualche palato europeo a quegli intrugli roventi, a quelle
infernali manipolazioni. Icibi — narra il capitanoTancredi nel Bollettino
délia Società Geografîca — sono di magro o di grasso e il numéro degli
uni 0 quasi uguale a quello degli altri, il che non recherà meraviglia,
pensando che i digiuni e lequaresimetengonouna buona metàdelTanno.
Le salse e le vivande a base di pesce sono considerate come cibi di
128 PAKTE ITALIANA [7601
grasso, poichè Negus Johannes, asceta seduto in trono, sentenziô ed
ordinô di considerare corne cibo di grasso tutte le carni clie neH'iiccisio-
ne délie bestie dànno sangue. L'intingolo capolavoro délia barbara
cucina è a base di latte e farina d'orzo abbrnstolita : si fa cagliare il latte,
aggiiingendovi de! latticello ' ; lo si batte e fa montare, indi si unisce a
pasta di peperoni e droghe, e la mescolanza ben imita e battuta vien
tenuta in un vaso di terra chiuso alla bocca con pasta di farina, per due
0 tre giorni. La carne è talora mangiata cruda al naturale o condita con
sale, pepe e peperoni : è portata in giro in lungbi e grossi pezzi, tenendola
sospesa per uno dei capi ; e i commensali ne tagliano striscie per il
lungo, che prend ono fra i denti, tagliando il boccone a tior di labbro dal
basso alTalto ; le persone di riguardo e tineniente educate tagliano il
boccone fra le dita, lo intingono nelle droghe e lo portano alla bocca colla
mano destra. Fra le varie carni cotte ve ne sarebbe una che assomiglia
alla nostra bistecca, ma i buongustai, trovando forse lacosa troppo civile,
si fanno un dovere di aggiungervi, come salsa, un po' di tiele. il piatto
di carne più in voga e riservato ai grandi banchetti è cosa orribile a dirsi:
in un vaso di terra si prépara la salsa con fiele e col conlenuto délia prima
parte dell'intestino tenue délia bestia, pasta di peperoni con zenzero,
pepe, cipolle, aglio e farina di senape, acqua o birra giovine, e in questo
straordinario brodetto si pone délia trippa cruda ben lavata e tagliuzzata
e la si rimescola vivamen'te perché beva il sugo. Indi si aggiunge ben
caldo il fegato ed il polmone di capra o pecora, gazzella o antilope, già
prima arrostiti sulla bragia e tagliatia piccoli pezzi : si agita bene il tutto,
si piglia a mandate e lo si butta sulle locacce. Chi vuol provare...
La virtù educativa dell' esercito.
La miglio'' prova che la caserma puô servire anche di scuola è data
dalle cifre, le qiiali dimostrano che il livello morale dell'esercito italiano
diventa sempre più alto. Dalle cifre triennali, nel periodo dal 1885 al
1905, risulta una riduzione délie condanne nell'ultimo anno, rispetto al
primo, del 43 per cento ; dalle 1594 di vent'anni prima si arriva aile 988
del 1905, mentre è rimasta presso a poco allô stesso livello la forza média
annuale. In altri termini, la média dei delinquentiin rapporto alla forza
média era nel 1885 dell'B.S per mille, mentre non era che del 4.8 per
mille nel 1905. Anche nei reati disciplinari c'è— secondo le cifre esposte
dal dottor Gonsiglio in un arlicolo deWItalia moderna — una notevole
diminuzione. Per la disubbidienza si è scesi in vent'anni da 178 a 97 ;
una riduzione, cioc, del 53 per cento. Per la insiibordinazione, che è la
protesta reattiva^ e violenta, si è scesi da 289 a 197, cioè del 33 per cento.
E una riduzione del 55 per cento si è verilicata per la diserzione sem-
plice; da 311, cioè, a 21. Al di fuori dei reati disciplinari, anche nei
furti c'è la notevole diminuzione del 45 per cento. E bisogna osservare che
nella vita délia caserma, nonostante la facilita délie occasioui offerta dal
cameratismo, la proporzione délie condanne per furto è deiri.7 per
mille, mentre è del 4.2 per mille nella società borghese. Un fenomeno
assai caratteristico è poi quello délia récidiva. I recidivi erano 774 nel
1885, scesero sino a 366 nel 1895, ma risalirono poi gradatamente sino a
500 nel 1905. Ma questo fenomeno dériva esclusivamente dal crescere
spaventoso délia delinquenza précoce.
1. la parte sierosa del latte. — 2. che reagisce, che fa reazione.
Les Cinq Langues
N« 17, 5 Juin 1908. 8« Année.
PARTE ITALIANA
Miscellanea.
Vlllustrazione Ilaliana pubblica uno scritto ineclito di Edmondo De
Amicis : « Alla finestra » di ciii c notevole l'iiltimo brano, perché farebbe
credcrc che il poeta avesse il presentimento délia morte vicina. Ecco il brano :
'< Tutto mi fa pensare alla morte. Ed è un pensiero benefico e dolce perché
mi mette nello stato d'animo di chi, partendo per un lungo viaggio, perdona
i torti ricevuti, si pente di quelli che ha fatto ad altri, si rammarica di
non aver fatto di più per lasciar di se una buona memoria, e si sente per
questo migliore che nei suoi begli anni, e con una profondità d'affetto e di
lenerezza non mai sentita al)braccia amici e sconosciuti e tutte le miserie e
tutti i doloi'i neiraugurio di pace che rivolge al monde ch'egli abbandona. »
Il 3 maggio è morto a Budapest il générale Stefano Ti'irr.
Nella storia del Risorgimento italiano Stefano Tiirr occupa un altissimo
posto, tanto piii alto in quanto egli, straniero, verso il proprio sangiie nei
campi di battaglia per seniplice amore al nostro paese. Nato in Ungheria nei
1825, Stefano Tiirr diserto iiel '48 le bandiere austriache per passare dalla
nostra parte. E si batte subito a Novara. Poi prese parte alla guerra di
Crimea; poi a quelladel '59 arrolato nelle schiere garibaldine. Presso Brescia
rimase ferito gravemente. Di Garibaldi fu primo aiutante durante la campa-
gna délie Due Sicilie, e consigliere e amico. La spedizione da Quarto al Faro
ebbe in Tiirr uno dei piîi efticaci cooperatori : primo egli pose il piede a
terra, provvedendo poi allô sbarco dei Mille nonostante il bombardamento
di due navi da guerra napoletane. E da Marsala a Napoli egli compiè
tutta la marcia gloriosa battendosi da eroe. La vittoria di Capua fu dovutain
gran parte a lui. Passato, nei '60, nell'esercito regolare col grado di générale e
nominato aiutante di campo del re Vittorio Emanuele, vi rimase poco tempo
avendo allora sposato una cugina di Napoleone. Dopo il periodo bellicoso,
la vita di Stefano Tiirr venne spesa nei lavoro e negli studi. L'apertura del
canale di Corinto e quella dei canali derivati dal Danubio sono opéra sua.
Esercitô anche grande influenza in contrattazioni politiche e dipiomatiche
per incarico di vari Sovrani ; e pubblico articoli e volumi su questioni
sociali.
Negli ultimi tempi si era dedicato soprattutto aU'idea pacitista, di cui
divenne fervente apostolo. Da parecchi anni non v'era riunione di pacifisti
senza che tra essi comparisse la bella, caratleristica testa del prode unghe-
resc, dai lunghissimi baffi e dal pizzo blanchi, alla « Vittorio Emanuele » ;
il Sovrano ch'egli amù e ammirô scontinatamente.
Si puô dire veramente che Stefano Tiirr non ha mai riposato. Gome tutti i
forti egli non riposa che ora : nella morte.
[101] iTAL. n
130 PARIE ITAUANA [802]
La cà dei cani.
— Non andate lontano ! E presto in tavola.
— Eh, non la dubiti...Sediamoci qui. . .
Dunqne, dicevo cbe i cani li ammiro anch'io, ma alla larga • ...
Paura? No! È timoré, e fosse paiira la mia, che ci posso fare? Sapeto,
sono impressioni ricevute nell'infanzia. . . Noi si abitava vicino a una casa,
conosciuta in tiitto il quarfiere col nomignolo di Cà dei cani, perché vi sta-
vano parecchi cani di ogni statura, di ogni colore, d'ogni tcmperamento : dal
canone, che spesso pareva inbalsamato, da tanto che ora pacitico ; al canino.
che mostrava sempre due tile di punteruoli- bianchi, pronti a farne assag-
giare la tempera ai nostri polpacci. V'era poi una bestiucciaccia, una specie
di cane da pagliaio, nano e brutto, come il peccato, che non istava mai zitto
0 ogni tanto usciva in iirli e ringhi cosî rabbiosi da scuotere tutti i suoi
compagni, compreso il pacione ^, e allora tiguratevi ! un ca' dei diavolo * da
non si dire; tanto più che saltavano fuori anche gli altri cani dei qiiartiore,
quasi volessero dar sulla voce ai distiirbatori ; ma intanto il fracasso diven-
tava infernale. I vicini non ne potevano più ; reclami al Municipio e alla
Questura ; arlicoli sui giornali : tutto inutile. Eppure i padroni di casa erano
le più brave persone di questo mondo, da quella mania in fuori °.. Quasi
lutti i giorni, tempo permeltendo, li conducevano a fare un po' di esercizio.
Spazzolati, pettinati, con la museruola lucente, i piccini con il nastro e i
sonaglio al collo, uscivan fuori accompagnati dal non' dalla nonna, dalla
[jrozia, dalbablio, dalla mamma, da tre ragazzi, e, a compensare i ghigni e
le apostrofi degli screanzati, c'eran sempre le lodi délie persone a modo, le
esclamazioni e le carezze dei bambini... lo, per esempio, era une degli
ammiratori, e di tanto in tanlo mi univo con loro. Come ci si diverliva a
giocare coi cani !
Una sera d'eslate ci condussero fuori di città, e si trovô un bel posto, dove
i grandi potevan sedere comodamente; i cani e noi ragazzi baloccarsi senza
pericoli .... Senza pericoli ? Nella spiazzata, dove ci si trovava tanto
bene, sboccava una slradicciuola quasi sempre déserta. Che è che non è, il cane
da pagliaio, abbaiando furiosamente, si mette a correre per quella slradic-
ciuola; poi si ferma a un tratto e dà volta, sempre abbaiando. Chissà cosa
voleva dire ; falto sta che gli altri cani, via anch'essi di galoppo, e noi a seguirli.
Vedemmo allora un cagnaccio, senza museruola con il pelo arruffato, il ceffo*'
basso, la coda fra le gambe. Si mossero anche i vecchi
— Flick ! Flock ! Mimi ! Fifi ! Joli ! Tutti a cercar di raggiungerli e di
trattenerli Che 1 lo scontro era già avvenuto, la battaglia già ingaggiata.
Tanti contro uno ! ma quel!' uno era ben più terribile che tutti gli altri
insiomc. H nonno e il balibo gli scorscro tanlo dischiuma alla Itocca, e, biso-
gna dirlo, in quel momento non pensarono se non ai ragazzi che con gli
strilli e coi ciotloli, prendevano parte alla zuffa.
— E arrabbiato. . . Venile!... Ci presero per le braccia, e ci trassero
a una casupola, senza curarsi d'allro. F, a prozia aveva perduto la favella e
dal fremito masticava a due palmenti ' : la nonna intontita teneva le braccia
alzate e aperle le palme, comeavesse a dire Orale frotres ; lamamma correva
qua e là ad accertarsi che non mancava nessuno. Ma la paura non duro a
lungo ; si pensô anche aile bcstie. ( hé fare?
— Vo' io a vedere ! No, voglio andar io 1 menlre si discuteva, s'udi un
concerto di abbaiamenli e di tinlinnii; erano i cani che lornavano. E il
cagnaccio? Ucciso ? Scapiialo ? A buon conio, meglio raggiungere la poita
1. adistanza. — 2. punteniolo == ferro per fora r panno ocarta Qua: i denti aguzzi
dei ciuie. — 3. il cane pacilico. — 4. un charivari. — o. ali'infuori di quell.i
mania. — 6. il muso. —7. a duegïmasce, a duc mascelle.
[803] PARTE ITALI\NA 131
dt'Ua città attraverso i campi, tenendo l'accolta la brigata canina che ansi-
niava con tanto di lingiia penzoloni. Venne in mente a nessuno che i cani
potevano essere stali niorsi ? Ghi lo sa ? Corto nessuno ne parlô...
Vicino alla porta c'erano dei capannelli ** e, nel passare, si udirono délie
iVasi corne queste.
— Rabbioso ? Altro che rabbioso... ha avuto del coraggio, il vigile ^..
con la rivollella ! che forza !... e se non coglieva subito ?... Meglio 1 E che
abbia morsicalo qualcuno !
La brigata allungô il passo, e si lorno a casa senza nuovi incidenti.
Il di dopo alFalba, io dormivo ancora, quando fui desto da un gran rumore ;
balzo a sedere sul letto, sto in orecchi e afferro délie esclamazioni che mi
lanno tornare a mente lavventura délia sera prima. Cosi in camicia, m'af-
faccio alla finestra. Indovinate! Génie a tutte le finestre, e, giii nella slrada,
vigili, guardie di questura, il canicida "^ con due aiutanti, che avevano arre-
stato Flick, Flock, Mimi, Fifi.Jo'i, Bébé... tutta la famiglia canina. La nonna,
il nonno, la prozia..., pertino la cuoca e il servitore seguivano gli arrestati,
jiiangendo, sen/a badare aile risate, ai fischi, ed aile esclamazioni dei
monelli...
— É in tavola !
— Veniamo subito 1... a farla corta, i cani furono ammazzati quindici
giorni dopo; gli uomini condannati a un'ammenda, perché avevano insultato
i pubblici uffiziali nelFesercizio délie loro funzioni... Per molti giorni la
storia délia Cà dei cani fece le spese di tutti i discorsi, poi si cominciô a
(limenticarla : si era riso abbastanza... Ma non si rise, figliuoli, quando
nella nonna e nel babbo si manifestarono dei sintomi di idrofobia. Avevano
palpato, carezzato i loro cani reduci dalla l)attaglia, e in tal modo si erano
avvelenati. Deve essere stata cosi La cura Pasteur ! certo fu applicata
subito ; ma non servi a nulla.
Li conoscete, nevvero i fratclli Golelti ? Quel tre mortori " ambulanti ?
Erano i tre ragazzi délia Cà de' cani, che rimasti soli al mondo in poco più di
un anno, divennero... quello che sono.
lo, ripeto, ho moltissiina stima per i cani... ma alla larga, (igliuoli !...
Ed ora andiamo a pranzo.
G. L. Patuz/.i*.
8. griippi. — 9. guardia. — 10. o : accalappiacani, colui che uccide i cani. — 11.
Rinerali. — * Dal hhro Novelle e Bozzetti di Aitlorl Ilaliani viventi pubblicati da G.
Imnzi. Edit. S. Lattes, Toriiio.
Un curioso saggio di critica victorughiana.
È quello del prof. Luigi Lucchetti intorno aile imagini nell'opera di Victor
Hugo, e lo segnala M. M. nel Marzocco « corne un esempio bizzarro delFinu-
tililà di tutti i lavori critici fondati su una base puramente rettorica ». Il
Lucchetti ha raccolto pazientemente nelle opère dell'Hugo tutte le imagini
ardite, i paragoni e le metafore che pii^i lo han colpiio, poi ne ha t'atto una
specie di dizionario, collocando a banco délia parola in linguaggio tigurato
quel la in linguaggio comune, colmando poi Fabisso tra i due termini col
trascrivere il passo che contiene la similitudine. Eccone alcuni esempi.
Globe — Oiseau.
Tout globe est un oiseau que le mal tient et lâche.
(Le.? Contemp talions.)
132
PARTE ITALUNA
[8041
Infini — Rue.
En vain tous les passants de cette sombre rue
Qu'on nomme l'infini....
(La Léijende des siècles.)
Instinct — Rail .
L'instinct, sorte de rail où la nature fatale entraîne la brute.
{Napoléon le Petit.)
Corne s'intende qiiesto melodo — tanto per chiamarlo cosi — non riesce
che a nn risultato grottesco. Secondo il prof. Lucchetti il capolavoro poetico
non sarebbe che un musaico di immagini ardite, di simili tudini sorpren-
denti, — il poeta un funambolo ' délie antitesi e il critico oolui che segna
col gesso il numéro di .salti mortali compiuti dal poeta.
i. colui che balla suUa corda.
Pioggia.
0 come vien la pioggiolina lievo
Corne opportuna alla slagione in
"flore !
Per raille steli e mille fronde beve
La giovin terra ilrigoglioso umore :
Pioggia sui colli, che sui monti è
[neve,
Non quai raddensaPinvernalrigore',
Ma tenue si, che un migrante augel-
[lino
Vi lascia impresso l'agile zampino.
Alinda Brunamonti Bonacci.
1. non spessa come nel freddo inver-
nale.
Goethe*.
Il
Per il valore d'un'espressioneè ben diverse che dietro le parole vi sia un
individuo o che non vi sia. Nel giornale scientitico, neila gazzetta inlluente
io non distinguo una forma determinata : appena un'onibra irresponsabile,
più spesso ancora iina società linanziaria, o un burattino che sotto la
maschera e la veste del sac articolo spera farsi passare per un'individua-
lità. Invece attraverso ogni passo ed ogni parte d'un vero libro, io incon-
tro gli occhi deiruorao più risoluto : la sua forza e il suo terrore inondano
ogni parola, le virgole e i tratti di linea vivono; si che Io scrittoè atletico
ed agile, — puo andar lontano e vivere a lungo.
In Inghilterra ed in America si pu6 essere prol'ondamente iniziato nelle
opère d'un poeta greco o latino senza possederenè il gusto ne la passione
délia poesia. Che un uonio abbia speso degli anni intorno a Platone ed a
Proclo non ci autorizza a supporre ch'egli abbia dei sentinienti eroici o
che disprezzi gli usi délia sua città. Invece la nazione tedesca mostra a
(piesto proposito la più ridicola buona fede: Io studente, uscito dalla sala
délie conferenze, continua a ruminare la lezione udita, e il professore non
puo spogliarsi daU'illusioneche le veritàlilosolichesiano, in una qualche
Vedi le altre quattro parti.
[805]
PARTE ITALIANA
1.33
misura, applicabili a Berlino ed a Monaco. Questa serietà permette loro di
veder più lontano che iiomini di ben maggiore iiigegno. Di qui dériva il
l'atto che quasi tutte le buonedefinizionid'uso corrente neila conversazione
elevata provengono dalla Germania.
{Continua.) Emerson.
Il chiostro di San Martino.
Alla su Napoli rumorosa sta la grande certosa candida che Gosimo
Fansaga costrusse hel secolo XYII. Alla loggia famosa che domina la
Napuli. — Chiostro délia Gerlosa di S. Martino (Ediz. Brogi).
cittcà e il golfo salgono i mille rumori délia vita brulicante e attiva, sal-
gono e si confondono in un unico assordante clangore * dove si associa
lo stridore dei ferri e il rombo dei magli S il fischio délie sirène del porto,
e il frastuono délie Iramvie e délie funicolari, tutti i rumori délie cose,
tutte le voci di un'immensa popolazione. Dentro, nel claustro ^ è silenzio,
silenzio profondo e grave, silenzio di meditazione e di preghiera. Attor-
no al claustro gira il Museo dove sono centinaia di oggetti belli e prezio-
si, di reliquie patriottiche. Nel claustro bianco di marmi è solo l'ombra
del pozzo e délie colonne doriche del portico e il frusciare di qualche
pal ma e di qualche pianta d'arancio che accanto ai suoi candidi fiori
inebbrianti ha i suoi frutti d'oro penduli tra la verdura cupa. . .
B. W. A.
1. clamore. — 2. grossi martelli. — 3. chiostro.
13i PARTE ITALIANA [806j
La mia compagna.
Bisogna vederla quatido io la invito a una gita sul mio minuscolo
automobile, ove a stento posso trovare un posticino e non molto comodo
|>er lei !
La gioia entra in lei e la anima come la brezza nella vêla. Il suo vollo
si increspa di sorriso, i suoi occhioni azzurri si riscliiarano e brillano, le
sue manine paffute battono l'una contro l'altra giocondamente. Non fa
lardare mai il consentimento, non è mai di malavoglia, non ha mai alcuno
di quegli impicci femminili clie capitano espressamente per mandare a
monte i divertimenti meglio improvvisati.
E sempre pronta e felice. Non c'è mai pericolo cheFinvitola contrarii.
La sua gioia si muta poi in fervore. Ella si veste, si appresta * in due
minuti, provvede atutto cio che occorre, nulla dimentica. Anziricorda a
me le cose necessarie ; va lei alla ricerca degli stramenti che possono
abbisognare alla nostra macchina.
Pensa alla chiave inglese e alFoleatore, si mette in tasca del filo di
feiTO, délie pezze di gomma per medicare le ferite dei pneumatici, mi
domanda se ho preso la manopola e la spina per il contatto elettrico, e
fila già per le scale prima ancora che io mi sia calato sulle orecchie il
berretto.
Nel portico di casa ella entra in funzioni. Si tratta di estrarre il nostro
sbuffante veicolo dalla sua cella. Ella non si riliuta alla fatica. Eccola
affcendata a tirare una ruota perche la macchina possa svoltare dall'an-
dito 2, e poi afferrala all'asse posteriore per trattenerla nella scesa dei due
gradini che ci separano dalla strada.
Siamo quasi al punto ' ; ella ispeziona un istante il motore, toglie via
un po'di fango disseccato dal lucido recipienle délia benzina, dà due o
tre colpetti al galleggiante del carburatore, come ha veduto fare da me,
per assicurarsi che la benzina è arrivata, un ullimo sguardo a tutto
insieme, e. . . in sella.
— È bella, eh, la nostra quaranla cavalli ! — ella esclama con un sor-
risetto d'orgoglio.
Non occorre ch'io dicache il modesto rotabileche viene pomposamente
gratiticalo di una cifra cosi ingente di cavalli, non arriva a qualtro. Ma il
mio camerata in gonnella è ottimista, e poi sente l'amorproprio del pro-
prietario, cosi da moltiplicare per dieci la forza del motore.
Io mi arrampico per primo, mi accomodo in sella ; dispongo le manette
del gaz e délia accensione per la partenza, epoi l'aiutoa salire. L"impresa
non è i'acile, sempre per la ristrettezza del posto. L'afîerro sotlo le brac-
cia, la soUevo, ella sgambelta in aria, finchè si appoggia piii che non si
sieda su un mio ginocchio, punta i piedi sulla forcella délia ruota davanti,
si calca il berretto sugli occhi facendo sporgere ben innanzi la visiera, si
accomoda i grossi occhiali sul nasino, e quando è convinta che la sua
tenula di chauffeuse è perfetta. domanda : Andiamo ? Posso mettere il
contatto '? — Via ! — rispondo.
i. si prépara. — 2. passaggio stretto.
[807J PARTE ITALIANA 135
Gravemente ella gira la manopola, compresa del miracolo animatorio
che sta percompiersi, mentrecon l'altra manosi trattiene, aggrappandosi,
al mio braccio.
Siamo in un momento critico. Il démarrage délia maccliina non è tra i
più facili ; iodebbo, prima che il motore si avvii, dare due o tre colpi di
pédale. Per queslo movimento un po' briisco ella, che non aveva altro
sostegno che il mio ginocchio destro, si trova improvvisamente sbaizata
su egiù alternativamente corne se navigasse su un cattivo battello attra-
verso la Manica, durante una raf'tica \
Ma neanche questo sballottamento^ la mette di cattivo umore; tutto al
più le sue dita si contraggo no più strettamente sul mio braccio per con~
servare l'equilibrio. Per Ibrtuna la raflica dura poco, il motore inizia la
série confortante de' suoi scoppi regolari, che diventano sempre più fre-
quenti, corne gli spari di molti fncilia ripetizione. Quellostrepito ritmico
che fa voltare i passanti con un viso arcigno giunge aile nostre orecchie
dolce comeuna musica. Non arriviamo corne quel taie c/iai/^^eur maniaco
a preferirlo a un motivo del Parsifal, tuttavia quell' istante ci riempie di
contentezza. E il segnale che tutto va bene. E non è poco.
Yeramente io mi sono atfrettato troppo a rallegrarmi, poichè a cento
metri da casa, proprio mentre ci si présenta un' ardua salita, sento che il
motore cala e crépita più sordamente.
Capisco che nella précédente agitazione délie sue gonne si deve essere
spostata la manetta del gaz, forse si è quasi chiusa. Ma io non la vedo. E
muovere le braccia è pericoloso, poichè ella vi si appoggia. D'altra parte
non c' è da esitare.
— Stai attenta, debbo regolare l'ammissione del gaz. — Ella ha capilo,
lascia andar le braccia, si afferra al manubrio. Io corro alla ricerca délia
manetta ribelle, la apro, si riparte a grande velocità.
La salita è superata, siamo in cima, ella si rivolge, nel suo viso scintilla
la soddisfazione délia vittoria.
— Hai visto — ella dice — , come va bene? Corre eh ? È forte. Non ha
neanche sentito la salita. Come è bravo, poverino !
E nella sua etlusioneella parla alla macchinacome a un vecchio (enon
ha torto) e fidato amico : — Caro, mi piaci tanto, tanto ! — E cosi dicendo
carezza con una mano il manubrio. La mossa è stata un po' azzardata >■,
ha cambiato le nostre condizioni di stabilità. Sento la mia compagna che
scivola giù pian piano dal ginocchio. Decisamente la nostra vettura non è
fatta per due. Ella perù-sta in guardia e, da sveltaacrobata, puntellandosi
con braccia e mani al manubrio come i ginnasti quandogirano attorno al-
la sbarra, si ricoUoca ridendo su quell' incerto sedile che è il mio ginoc-
chio indolenzito.
Ora si marcia, siamo usciti dalla città, davanti a noi si âpre una lunga
strada diritta, liancheggiata da grandi platani. Sembra di camminare in
un bel viale. Non ci sono bestie ne uomini in vista. Posso afiidare una
parte délia manovra alla mia compagna che ne freme di voglia. Già si è
voltata parecchie volte per mostrarmi il suo visetto desideroso e i suoi
occhi interrogativi. Ella palpita di aspettazione. Niuna cosa le potrebbe
fare maggior piacere del consentimento che io sto per darle.
— Vuoi guidar tu? — io le chieggo. — Non ho ancora fînito la
3. rafale. — 4. scntimento. — 5. arrischiata.
136 PAKTE ITALIANA [808]
domanda che ella mi risponde con tre « si » uno più giiilivo dell'
altro.
— Stai attenta al contatto, — io ravverto. Se vuoi fermare non liai
che da voltare in dentro. — Ma elia lo sa e questa volta mi risponde cou
un si quasi indispettito, mentre si impadroniscedel manubrio, che le sue
manine di fata non riescono npppure a stringere interamentc.
Per ogni buon hne io rallento un po' l'andatura, ma ella vuol correre,
e mi incita "^ : — Via, via. — Metto un po' di avance, la corsa si accé-
léra. — Via, via! — ella ripete. Ed ella è veramente bellissima cosi
infervorata dalla ebbrezza délia corsa. Dà gioia a vederla. Ma ancora
più ammirevole è la sua posa, è la intensilà délia sua attenzione. Pare
un corridore su un formidabile arnese di velocità. Il corpo è incurvato
sulle braccia fissate ail' estremità del manubrio, il capo col berretto calato
sotto le orecchie e con gli occhiali che lo ricoprono per meta è tutto pro-
teso in avanti con un gesto risoluto e scrutatore. Ella vibra ail' unisono'
con la macchina, le due vite si fondono in una. Io non 1' ho mai veduta
cosi assorta, io son sicuro che non passa in lei una sola sensazione estra-
nea al suo atto. Ha posto tutta se stessa in quella funzione, come se com-
pisse qualche cosa di solenne, di decisivo, qualche cosa che la innalza ad
una altezza sconosciuta. Il mondo, io compreso, è scomparso per lei.
E per richiamarla a me e alla realtà, medito un piccolo tranello.
Senza che pero ella mi sproni, aumento io la velocità, metto progressi-
vamente piîi avance. Come un sensibile puledro, la macchina sente la
spinta, il suo galoppo si fa più rapido. lo strepito del motore si c conver-
tito in un ronzîo. Si vola. Naturalmente i miei piedi sono sul freno, e
una mia mano di nascosto tiene il manubrio.
Ah, ecco che essa si volta, nulla dice, si rivolta ancora, non vorrebbe
farlo parère. Non ride più, il suo suddito è diventato ora più forte di Ici.
Ella ne ha la coscienza vaga, e nel suo voltarsi verso di me vi è come la
richiesta di un supplemento di autorità. Finalmente si décide : — Non
li pare che vada troppo presto? E con la manina fa compiere un mezzo
giro alla manopola e toglie l'accensione.
Il piccolo gesto che ha ridato tutta la iiducia, le ha mostrato tutta la
sua potenza. poichè è stato suffjciente a tagliare il tendine del mostro
dianzi indomabile.
E sotto gli occhiali che le nascondono mezzo viso, scorgo i suoi occhi
lampeggiare di fierezza, come prima stavano per inumidirsi di lacrime.
Mi avvedo ora che mi sono dimenticato di presentarvi la mia incom-
parabile compagna .
Riparo alla dimenticanza.
Ha cinque anni. È mia liglia.
Mario Mohasso.
6. sprona, stimola. —7. concordemente, unanime. — 8. questo grazioso buzzetto
è lolto dal bel libro di Rosa Errkba « Come i/ente che pensa sito cavunino » di ciii
abblammo parlato nel Supplément (n» 20 febbraio 1908) .
Les Cinq Langues
N» 18.
20 Juin 1908.
8° Année.
PARTE ITALIANA
Miscellanea.
Onoranze centenarie a Giovanni Cava
Il 30 maggio nelF Accademiu Militare
m.
di ïoi'ino tu solenncmente celebrato
il ceiitenario délia nascita di Gio-
vanni Cavalli, inventore dei mo-
derni cannoni a retrocarica c délie
artiglierie rigate. In numerosi di-
scorsi venne espostalanobile vitae
Topera géniale deirillustre scien-
ziato, riassunte entrambe nella
seguente éloquente epigrafe : Nel
giorno che ricorda aU'artiglieria —
le vittorie quasi sue di Goito e di
Peschiera — gli artiglieri veterani^
e giovani — in questa storica Regia
Militare Accademia — vivaio fecon-
do e rigoglioso — di ufficiali dotti
e prodi — solennizzano il ccntenario
délia nascita — del Générale Gio-
vanni Cavalli. — Accademisla ed
accademico — che meditando sui
resullali délia scienza — ideando
sisterai creando invenzioni — col
genio e con lo studio — divinando
l'uturi progressi — li precorse ed
avvio.
Giovanni Cavalli.
Per un monumento a Demie in Roma.
Essendosi discusso alla Caméra il progetto di erigere nn monumento a
Dante sur un colle di Roma, Alfredo Baccelli difese la proposta col seguente
elevato discorso :
« — In Roma — la quale, se non produce ricchezza nella nuova convivenza
nazionale, la nobilita colla magnificenza délia storia — deve vivere lo spirito
délia nazione e debbono raccogliersi tutte quelle opère che valgano ad
esprimerne il pensiero ed il sentimento.
« Alla gloria di Dante è impari un monumento, dicono coloro che si sen-
tono smarriti dinanzi alla sua grandezza ; dicono gli snob.'i deirintellettualismo,
dicono gli spiriti usi a negai-e ! Oh, certo I Ma non o per la gloria di lui che
noi vogliamo innalzare la statua ; noi vogliamo innalzarla a onore délia no-
1. vecchi, anziani.
[107]
ITAL. 18
138 PARTE ITALIANA [850]
stra etn, a signiticazione délia nostra coscienza di italiani, the in Dante ve-
dono i sentimenti più radiosi, il più alto imper.sonamento del popolo attra-
verso i secoli délia storia. Perché, dunqiie, non vorremo noi esprimere, il
pensiero e il sentimento nostri nella forma tangibile e visibile di cui Tarte
moltiplica l'efficacia dinanzi aile plebi ? Il nostro tempo, tiacco e dégénère,
0 indegno di Dante ? Ciascun tempo ha le sue virtù e i suoi vizî. Oggi tutti
sono lodatori del tempo passato. Cattivo indizio, indizio di vecchiaia di spi-
rito. Il nostro tempo, figlio di quello, meraviglioso di sacritizî e di ardi-
menti che diede lihertà e unità alla patria, persegue pure un nobile idéale :
quello délia pace e délia giustizia sociale. Non ogni secolo puo vedere un
Dante.
« A Dante non si debbono innalzare monumenti perché è troppo grande?
Ma a chi dunque, li dovremo innalzare ? Ai Carneade - ai pigmei, forse ?
« Tremeranno le vene e i polsi all'artista che dovrà effigiare Dante : noi
non abbiamo artisti ; vedremo un brutto monumento di più! Ma perché
questa disperazione di tutto e di tutti? Non vivono forse Giulio Monteverde.
Ernesto Biondi, Ferrari, Trentacoste, Gallori, Maccagnani, Tadolini e altri ?
Perché getlare sempre con le noslre mani il discredilo su noi stessi,
quando gli altri esaltano e gloriiîcano gli uomini loro ? »
L'oratore illustra poi la proposta di legge la cui esecuzione \errebe affidala
al Governo e dice :
— Neppur io voglio eccessivita seicentesche né reltoriche cerimonle; un
semplice monumento in luogo aperto, luniinoso ed alto, donde Dante possa
tutti ammonire e donde su tutti eecella corne deve. Ma la sem|tlieilà importa
grandezza di proporzioni, dignitk di materia, eccellenza d'artc ; percio chiedo
una somma cospicua. Se basterà somma minore, tanto meglio. A Roma,
dove Goethe c Victor Hugo si ricordano tutti i giorni al popolo, non deve
oltre mancare il monumento del nostro Poeta. Uisorga Dante a rieordarc che
il più alto Poeta, il più possente genio délia cristianità é poeta e genio délia
stirpe nostra. »
# •
In Homa alla presenza del Re, délia Regina e dei delegali esteri fu inaugu-
rato ristituto Agrirolo Internazionale progetlato tre anni fa da Vittorio
Emanuele III.
« Da questa degna e decorosa sede dovuta alla inunilicenza dcUa Maestà
Vostra — ha detto il ministro Tittoni — Io sguardo spazia liheramente sulla
città eterna, sui colli che ad essa fanno corona, sul ïevere, il sacro fiume
d'Italia, e Io spettacolo grandioso é incitamento ad opère magnanime.
« Il nome dellAugusto inizialore, scritlo con romana seniplicitk sul fron-
tone del palazzo, attestera ai posteri la previdenza e la liberalità del Prin-
cipe e ricorderà gli intenti umanitari ai quali Egli voile indirizzalo il siio
Regno.
« Voi, Sire, rivolgendo la Vostra attenzione alla gran madré terra ed ai
suoi frutti, nell'interesse, non solo del nostro paese, ma di tutto il mondo
civile avete richiamato la nuova Ilalia alla sua tradizione leggendaria e sto-
rica, alla origine del suo nome istesso e insieme indicato a noi ed a tutti la
via di una féconda, prosperosa pace avvenire, pace non solo di Governi, ma
pace délia produzione e degli scambi, ma pace délia lerra e délie genti
umane che per essa sudano e sattannano. »
I delegati esteri — che constituiscono il Comitato permanente dell' Istituto
— sono per ora una quarantina e rappresentano TAustria, la Francia, la
Germania, l'Ungheria, l'Inghilterra, la Svezia, la Norvegia, il Belgio, l'Olanda,
la Spagna, il Portogallo, la Svizzera, 'Argentina, il Giappone, ecc.
2. dicesi Carneade per dire un essere perfettamente sconosciuto. E'al Manzoni
{Promessi Sposi, Cap. VlU) che si deve questo modo di dire.
[851] PARTE ITALIANA 139
Ciro Menotti.
Mai'tcdi 20 maggio ricorse il 77° annivcrsario délia impiccagione a Modena
di Cii'O Menotti c Vinoenzo Borelli per volontà del duca Fraiicesco IV d'Austria
d'Esté. Due ore prima di salire il patibolo Ciro Menotti scrissc alla moglie
una commoventissinia Icttera ch'egli affido bagiiata di lagrime, al confessore
don Francesco Bern.irdi : ma Zerbini, eapo délia polizia ducale strappù la
carta preziosa dalle mani del sacerdote e impedî che fosse consegnata, Fu
solo nel 1848, cioè 17 anni dopo, ch'essa venne ritrovata fra le carte riservate
deirArchivio Estense del Ministero del Buon Governo. Un ex-ufficiale gari-
baldino, Taddeo Grandi, la riporta ora nel Nuovo Giornale. La data è del 26
maggio 1831, aile 5 c mezzo ant. Contiene frasi che ancora commuovono per
grandezza e semplicità : « IL supremo amoroso comando che impongo al tuo
cuore — scriveva il moriluro — è quelle di non abhandonarti al dolore. Non
resterai che orbata ^ di un corpo che pur deve soggiacere al sua fine : l'anima
niia sarù teco unita per tutta Veternità. Pensa ai figli ed in essi continua a ve-
dere il loro genitore : e quando saranno adulli dâi loro a conoscere quanto io
amavo la patria. Non ti spaventi Videa délia immatura ^ mia fine. Iddio clie
mi accorda forza e coraggio per incontraria co)ne la mercede del giusto, Iddio
mi aiuterù fino al fatale momento. » E piii oltre aggiimgeva : « Speravo molto :
il Sovrano ... ma non sono piii di questo mondo. » Poco prima di inettere il
piede sul gradino del patibolo, Ciro Menotti prornppe in queste parole rac-
colte dagli astanti religiosamente : « La delusione che mi conduce a morire
farà abborrire agli italiani ogni ingerenza straniera nei loro interessi e li
avvertirà a non tidarsi che nel soccorso del loro braccio ».
1. privata. — 2. prematura, précoce.
Memorie Carducciane.
Al lavoro d'esegesi carducciana che gia ferve fecondo tra gli studiosi, con-
tribuisce con quattro notevoli studi Pietro Rossi in Verona e il lago di Garda
nella poesia carducciana . Il Rossi ricorda del Carducci i varî soggiorni nei
luoghi che furoncelebrati dalla sua poesia. Verona nel decennio 1873-85 van-
tava un'eletla schiera di studiosi : il Betteloni, Lionello Patnzzi, Ginseppe
Biadego, Giuseppe Fraccaroli. La villa Betteloni era meta di molti amici, tra
i quali un capitano dei carabinieri, il signor Porro. Con lui il Carducci ritor-
nava a Verona ; e l'ospite, vedendolo partire cosi scortato, esclamava : « Non
diranno che non lo faccio custodire bene il poeta republicano ; lo faccio
accompagnare da un capitano dei carabinieri ». In una gita sui colli délia
Valpolicella, il poeta sosto in una piccola osteria, dove potè raccogliere una
grazia del dialetto. Egli aveva detto all'ostessa di non voler vino dolce e questa
aveva soggiunto : « Ne portera di molto buono con una veneta sconta » (cioè
con un lontano e nascosto sapore di dolce)' ; e l'espressione piacque grande-
mente al poeta. La città scaligera- coi suoi monumenti aveva innamorato di
se il cantore délie glorie patrie, ma più il BenacoMieto nella bonaccia, e ter-
ribile nelle sue furie. Ricorda Tautore che in un pomeriggio del luglio 1885
« trovandosi il poeta a Desenzano ed essendo sorta una délie più famose
burrasche che da quei terrazzani si ricordassero, egli non cedendo aile pre-
1. venèla = piccola vena; sconta = nacosta. — 2. Verona, che fu governata dagli
Scaligeri. — 3. o lago di Garda.
i40 PARTE ITALIANA [852]
ghiere e aile dissiuvsionid eiralbergatore, dei professori siioi amici clfcrano
con lui e degli stessi barcaiuoli, voile aflfrontarla c si spinse al lai'go porlando
con se le Georgichedi Virgilio ». Certo un'imprudenza; ma ilRossi commenta:
« Parlicolare codesto che rivela la caratterisLica fierezza di quclla grande
anima, che nella rubesta violenza del lago trovava quache cosa di rispondente
a se, non meno che nelle singolari bellczze artistiche délia vicina Verona ».
Le idée fondamentali di Domenica Papurello.
Il deslino Taveva fatta persona di servizio, ma il destino era stato cieco ;
la natura l'aveva congegnata per divenir ben altro ; è dubbio se sovrana
délia Cina o di tutte le Russie, certo, ad ogni modo, di un pacse dove l'au-
torità regale fosse ancora qualcosa dintangibile e di assoluto.
Le si vedeva anche in faccia.
Non già che la faccia di Domenica Papurello fosse molto bella, o portasse
impressa per segni la virtù délia razza imperiosa. Tranne un po' di barba
attorno al menlo e certe sopracciglia rapide ad aggrottarsi, quella faccia,
di queir indefinibile colore délie renettes in serbo, sormontata dai capelli
ispidi, e fortemente marcatanei lineamcnti, non presentava nulla di spéciale.
Ma era il carattere, e soprattutto lumore sdegnoso di Domenica Papurello
che l'assegnavano ', per innato diritto divino, a uno di quel posli eminenti
dove si comanda a tutti e non si è comandati da nessuno, per cui bisognava
proprio dire che quella sua funzione sociale di serva, di bonne-ù-tout-faire
nella casa del signor Perrucchetti, solto-capo-divisione al ministero délie
Finanze, fosse un brutto scherzo del destino, un' amara ironia.
E quesl' ironia appunto aveva impregnata tutta l'anima di Domt'nica Papu-
rello, pronta a rispicciarne ^ per mille pori ogniqualvolta l'avverso destino
tornasse a battere aile porte délia sua consapevolezza^ in forma di qualdie
ordine o di qualche rimostranza^ délia signoi-a Perrucchetti o délie sue
figliole.
Domenica Papurello inl'atti tollcrava maie gli ordini. Con quella taie sua
anima tutta imbevuta di ([uella taie ironia, in ogni ordine ella sentiva un
fondo dostilità e spesso un'insidia. Guai se la signora diceva per esempio :
— Domenica, conipcrale dell'insalata, ma che sia fresca.
Oppure :
— Portate il caffè, ma che sia caldo. —
Dopo un istante in cui le folte sopracciglia si erano corrugale più dell'
usato, Domenica Papurello aveva subito compreso che, con quelTordinc, la
padrona aveva inteso ferirla, ricordandole che la domenica précédente, a
colazione, la signoi'ina Enrica aveva dovuto getlarc meta dell'insalata prima
di condirla, perché a])passita, e che un mese innaiizi (un mese, sissignori,
e precisamente la vigilia dclla Madonna del Uosario) essendo venuto in visita
quell'amico del padrone, colla barba bionda, che portava sempre l'imper-
meabile anche quando non pioveva, avendo Ici, Domenica, do\uto riscal-
dare in fretta e furia il caffè, montre poi le signorine lo stavano servendo, la
padrona aveva detto (ad alta voce, in modo da richiamar Tattenzione di tutti) :
— Ma questo caffè è freddo ! —
Giacchè, se non tollcrava gli ordini, molto meno Domenica Papui-ello
poteva tollerare i rimproveri.
Alla più piccola rimostranza gli occhi le si arrotondavano si che parevano
volerleuscirdalla testa, e il capo sidrizzava con una di quelle mosscche rivela-
\. la destinavano. — 2. a tornarne a spicriare, a zampillar fuori. — 3. a farsi sen-
tire, a manifestarsi (lo stiie è tronfio per ironia). — 4. osservazioiie.
[853] PARTE ITALlAFfA 141
vano, senza possibililà alcnna di dubbio, quella certa predestinazione di cui
abbiamo discorso da principio. Ben presto a tulti i riinproveri ella aveva
tinito per opporre una formula invariabile, contro cui dovevano per forza
spuntarsi tutte le dimostrazioni e gli ammonimenti délia padrona e délie
padroncine.
Che queste infatti si lagnassero di una caméra maie spazzata o di una
caniicetta maie stirata, di una crema che per difelto di uova paresse un
brodo, o di una tortache per eccesso di bicarbonato facesse venire le lacrime
agli occhi, Domenica rispondeva invariabilmente :
— È come le altre volte. —
E la rabbia di queir aftermazione le era tanto cresciuta nell'animo che
ella aveva finito per adottarla anche nel caso inverso, quando cioè padrona
e padroncina, credendo di farle piacerc, lodavano qualche suo lavoi-o o
(|ualche sua opéra culinaria.
Gon un sorriso pieno di una superiorita schiacciante, Domenica si con-
tentava di rispondere :
— È come le altre vol te. —
Domenica Papurello non sapeva ne Icggcre ne scrivere. Se avesse saputo,
non potondo essere quella tal sovrana di quai tali saci-i quanto assoluti
sogli ", sarebbe certo diventata un'anarcliica militante. Quelle belle teorie,
per cui lei, Domenica Papurello, sarebbe stata padrona dei suoi padroni,
non avrebbcro potuto a meno di entusiasmarla. E poi quei mezzi cosi deli-
ziosamente spicciativi ! Un paio di bombe in tasca per ogni evento, per ogni
arrosto « presunto » abbruciato, per ogni crema « presunta » accagliata;
allora le padrone avrebbcro dovuto smetterla di far chiacchiere!
Ma, lo ripetiamo, Domenica Papurello non sapeva ne leggere ne scrivere.
Quel poco che le avevano insegnato « al suo paese » non le era entrato mai
nella testa, e cosi era avvcnuto che i semi délie nobili dottrine non avessero
potuto giungere e altecchire in quel suolo cosi favorevole e fecondo.
In compenso perô ella aveva délie teorie che s'era fabbricate da se, e
che, cosi, velatamente, si lasciava scappar di bocca anche coi padroni.
La teoria fondamentale di Domenica Papurello era che tutti i padroni son
dei carnefici e le serve dcUe tenere vittime. V^enivano poi in sotlordine : che
i padroni son tutti pazzi (mentrc le teste délie serve son dei miracoli di
equilibrio) : essi vogliono e disvogliono mille volte al giorno e la serva
sgobba c e finisce poi per prendere i rimproveri ; che i padroni hanno tutti
un mare di pretese e con pochi soldi vogliono fare bclla tigura aile spalle
délia serva (una delle cose più repugnanti alla fiera libéra anima di Dome-
nica Papurello era la pretesa della padrona che ella vestisse con una certa
decenza, che pettinasse con un po' di garbo i suoi capelli ispidi e mettesse
in bucato certigrembiuli divenutidi un colore moltoproblematico ^), ancora,
che i padroni « si divertono » a gridare e gridano sempre ; e tinalmente,
che i padroni bisognerebbe metterli loro a servire e le serve a comandare.
{Continua.) Barbara Wick-Allason.
5. soglio = trono. — 6. si affatica, lavora. — 1. dubbio.
Goethe
m
Ma mentre in Inghilterra ed in Francia uomini rimarchevoH per inge-
gno e dottrina procedono con uua certa leggerezza nella scella dei loro
* Vedi le altre quattro parti.
142 PARTE ITALIANA ["^54]
studi 0 del loro partito e non si prétende da loro che essi siano legati
profondamente, dalle radici delT essere, al ranio e alla parte che rappre-
sentano, — Gœthe, il capo e la personificazione délia nazione tedesca non
è mosso a parlare dall' ingegno, ma è la verità che traspare dalle sue
parole, ed egli è veramente saggio, anche se spesso accada che l'ingegno
ne veli la saggezza ; e per quanto l'espressione sia eccellente, egli si pro-
pone qualcosa di meglio di quest' eccellenza.
Egli stimola la mia curiosità. Egli ha quell'indipendenza formidabile
che conferisce il coniniercio colla verità ; sia che lo ascoltiate, sia che vi
rifiutiate, il fatto ch'egli ha proclaniato resta; il vostro interesse per lo
scrittore non si limita al racconto ed egli non v'esce dalla memoria allor-
chè ha assolto convenientemente il suo compito, corne un prestinaio che
se ne vada dopo aver consegnato il pane; anzi la sua opéra è la parte
meno importante di lui. L'antico eterno Spirito che ha costruito l'uni-
verso si è rivelato a quest'uomo più che a qualsiasi altro . . . . Lo scopo a
cui tende non è niente di meno che la conquista delT universale natura,
deli' universale vero, che vuol far suo : un uomo, quindi, che non puô
venir corrotto, ne ingannato, ne intimidito, dotato di una autorità su di
se stesso, e di un' abnegazione veramente stoiche, e non avente per tutti
gli uomini che una formula d'assaggio — Che puoi lu insejpiarmi '.* —
Tutti i béni délia terra son valutati da lui a (|uesta stregua : posizione
sociale, privilegi, sainte, tempO; e Tesistenza istessa.
(Fine.) Emerson.
Un morto.
Passa un momento solenne.
Stridono in alto le antenne
Nel vento.
E milioni di stelle
Brillano nel firmamento.
A poppa con grave mistero,
La ciurma si accaica, ristà ',
E prega. Qualcosa di nero
Piomba nell'immensilà.
La scia luminosa d'argento,
Squarciata, tumultuaun momento...
E il bastimento va.
Angiolo Orvieto.
1. si arresta.
La ricerca dell'impiego.
Un selenitaS in un viaggio che fece nel nostro pianeta, del quale non
conosceva affatto i costumi, trovù un giovane che studiava per dare certi
1. abitante délia luna.
[855] PARTE ITALIANA 143
esami di concorso. Sicconie nella luna non c'è l'iiso degli esami, egli
pensù d'inteiTOgare il giovane sul fatto di questo nome. E saputo
quanto desiderava, gli chiese perché mai egli impiegasse meta délia gior-
nata a studiare, e l'altra meta a inlormarsi dei nomi dei professori com-
ponenti la commissione e degli aderenti ' loro.
— Per poter avère qiialche buona raccomandazione prima délia prova,
— gli fu risposto.
Egli allora credette di non aver capito che cosa fosse l'esame, e si fece
rispiegare quella prima notizia, che nel siio buon senso non poteva con-
ciliare colla seconda. Ma non ci fu verso. Il buon selenita torno nel suo
satellite dalla paliida luce senz'esser riuscito a capire la logica di questa
cosa.
E fu bene che se ne tornasse a casa ; gli fu cosl risparmiata la nuova
delusione di veder questo taie medesimo, superatia mala pena^gli esami,
farsi poi strada nel mondo a quel modo che uno avanza nella folla, a
furia di gomitate nel lianco ai vicini più deboli o meno prepotenti di lui,
secondo il motto egoistico che « il mondo è di chi se lo piglia. »
Rosa Errera.
2. conoscenti. ~ 3. appena.
Varietà.
Le bugîe infantili.
La questione délie bugie infantili intéressa piîi che mai. Le testimo-
nianze délia potenza di autosuggestione e di suggestione collettiva che è
in loro sono innumerevoli. La signora Faggiani, che ha fatti degli esperi-
menti in iscuola, racconta in un articolo délia Rivisla di psicologia appli-
cata che un giorno, a una classe di bambine dai nove agli undici anni,
disse d'aver vista presso la scuola una bambina che chiedeva l'elemosina
e domandô se qualcuna di loro l'avesse incontrata. Era una sua inven-
zione, ma subito dieci alunne asserirono di averla vista, poi altre venti si
ricordarono di averla incontrata, e la descrivevano anche minutamente :
cinque sole sfuggirono alla suggestione. Un giorno una signora raccon-
tava le prodezze d'una scimmia ch'ella aveva avuta in casa quando era
fanciulla. H suo tiglioletto, un intelligente bambino di cinque anni, saltè
subito a dire che se la ricordava benissimo e si mise a descrivere come la
scimmia gli saltasse addosso e cercasse di morderlo e com'egli la pic-
chiasse. Ma, bambino mio, — gli obbiettô sorridendo la mamma — come
puoi averla vista, se non eri nato ancora? — Il bambino insisté, stizzito,
e la descrisse con molti particolari... Qualche volta sono capaci d'inven-
tare dei veri romanzi. Un bambino di nove anni, tornato a casa dopo
quattro ore di assenza inesplicabile, raccontô ch'egli era alla tinestra, che
un signore dalla strada gli aveva fatto cenno di scendere, poi lo aveva
indotto a seguirlo e, arrivati fuori di città, si era messo a picchiarlo bru-
talmente : egli aveva tanto gridato che finalmente una guardia — délia
quale disse anche il numéro — era accorsa, lo aveva salvato dalle mani
dello sconosciuto e riaccompagnato lino al portone di casa. Spaventato e
144 PARTE ITALIANA [856]
fiirioso, il padre dichiara che va subito in questiira a raecontare il fatto ;
e allora, un po' sgoniento, il ragazzo confessa che in quello che ha rac-
contato non c'è nuUa di vero e che invece ha perduto il tempo a giocare
coi conipagni...
Quanto costava la vita e quanto costa ora.
Tutti lamentano, e con ragione, il rincaro délia vita. Il maie è générale :
in Francia si è calcolato che, dall'anno 1902 all'anno 1907, il prezzo
del manzo è aumentato del 22 °/o e quello del pesce del 50. I tîtti sono
cari ovunque : in tutte le capitali si grida contro i padroni di casa, e le
aeree fabbricabili salgono a prezzi altissimi. Nel secolo XV una libbra di
burro si pagava, a Parigi, 17 centesimi e una dozzina di uova 9 : oggi co-
stano rispeltivamente franchi 2 e 3. Nel 1790, nella capitale francese, un
vestito da uomo, già fatto, si pagava da fr. 3.80 a 9. 50. Ma anche i salari
e gli stipendi erano molto bassi : una cuoca guadagnava, in Orléans,
neU'annQ 1564, fr. 37, all'anno. Se ai tempi di Aristofane, in Atene si
pagava un montone una dramma, cioè 93 centesimi, nel 1450, in Fran-
cia, lo si comprava con 75 centesimi, mentre oggi costa 34 fr. E, nel
tempo anzidetto, un Ateniese poteva cibarsi, insieme alla moglie e al
tiglio, con 48 centesimi al giorno. Ora VAvvenire d'Italia, ricorda che
anche nell'antica Roma, malgrado il lusso sfrenato, il vitto era ad un
buon mercato che pare incredibile. Infatti il manzo costava da 1 asse (20
centesimi) a 2 assi la libbra. Ed era quella l'epoca in cui Giulio Gesare
pagava cento milioni di sesterzi — pari a 25 milioni di franchi — l'ac-
quisto del terreno su cui edilicô il foro che da lui trasse il nome.
Per ridere.
Perch(j fui bocciato.
Avevo studiato proprio d'impegno, spécial mente la matematica, che
mi dicevano lo scoglio maggiore per l'ammissione alla Scuola di Modena.
Ed io volevo riuscire ! Percioperla matematica, per questa sola materia,
mi ero rivolto ad un provetto preparatore.
Tutte le prove m'erano andate splendidamente. Non mi i-estava che la
matematica, prova orale. Non nego che quest'ultimo cimento mi tenesse
un po'preoccupato, ma in fondo mi sentivo forte, io. L'esaminatore mi
squadra, ammicca, e poi mi fa :
— Andiamo, mi scriva un bel 100 con quattro 9.
lo sorrido . . .
— C'è poco da sorridere, mi scriva 100 con quattro 9 o ci rivedremo
all'altra sessione !
Passù circa un quarto d'ora imbarazzantissimo, in capo al quale io,
madido di sudore, deposi il gesso.
L'inllessibiie esaminatore lo prese, segno sulla lavagna 99 + 9/9, e
mi rimandù alla nuova sessione.
(Dal Carrière delta Domenica.)
Les Cinq Langues
N» 19. 5 Juillet 1908. 8« Année.
PARTE ITALIANA
Miscellanea.
La seduta Reale dell'Accademia dei Lincei.
Anche quest'anno verso la metàdi Giugno lAccademia dei Lincei ha teniito
la sua solenne seduta alla presenza dei Re, e in quest'occasione ha distribuito
i vari premi di fondazione regia. Il premio di filologia è toccato a don Leone
Caetani, principe di Tcano, péri suoi « Annali dell'Islam », il premio di scienza
all'on. Batfolli, e quello di archeologia ad Adolfo Vcnturi e Teresio Rivoira.
L'Accademia dei Lincei è una délie prime grandi Accademie italiane lette-
rarie e scientifiche sorte dalFUmanesimo. Essa fii fondata nel 1603 per opéra
di quel Federico Cesi duca di Acquasparta che fii uno dei difensori di Galileo
p che in ogni tempo protessc gli scienziati, mettendo a loro disposizione il
suo giardino botanico e la ricca bibliotoca.
Nel 1611 l'Accademia accrebbe la sua gloriaaccogliendo frai suoi membri
il Galilei, ma, dopo il processo e l'esilio diquesti, decadde. Risorse due volte
nel 700, ma era chiusa e obbliata quandonel 1847 la riapri Pio IX, finchè la
miinificenza di Re Umberto le diede niiova e fiorente vita.
Fu anche re Umberto che le assegno la sua sede attuale : il bellissimo
palazzo Corsini, pieno di ricordi storici e dove Cristina di Svezia teneva la
sua corte di letterati, di artisti e di diplomatici.
# *
Un discorso di A. Mosso.
Fra gli important! discorsi proniinziati nella seduta reale deU'Accademia
dei Lincei vogliamo ricordare quello di Angelo Mosso a proposito délia sta-
zione meteorologica dei colle d'Olen '. Eccone la chiusa :
« Sire,
« Gli ipercritici si lamentano che la scienza abbia troppo a specializzarsi c
si divida e si suddivida in troppi rami. Questa frammentazione è un maie
inevitabile e un effetto dei progresse medesimo. Non esiste piii una scien/a
che possa tutta essere compresa e padroneggiata da un uomo, sia pure un
genio ; eppero gli studiosi devono limitar?i a perforare in pocchi punti il
n)acigno dell'ignolo, se vogliono approfondirsi tanto da scoprire nuovi fatti
e poter coordinarli per farne proposizioni più larghe e giungere alla elabo-
razione délie leggi che governano i fenomeni.
« Le accademie edi congressi, avvicinando quanti siconsacrano aile scienze,
rimediano in parte alTisolamento in cui questi ricadono col riprendere i loro
studî nel silenzio délie biblioteche o fra gli strumenti dei laboratori.
« L'Istituto dei Col d'Olen segna un passo nuovo nella comunione scien-
tifica, e l'Accademia dei Lincei è il centro di questa istituzione internazio-
nale, dove il nostro présidente, il senatoreRlaserna, teniio viva la tradizione
1. Vedi n» délie Cinq Langues 20 ottobre 1907.
[113] ITAL. 19
146 PARTK ITALIANA [898
di Quintino Sella per la dignilà e rincrenicnto degli sludi alpini. Sotto il
medosimo tetto, alla stessa niensa, nella biblioteca e nei laboratori, appeiia
cominciano le vacanze, attralti dalle condizioni délia diniora e dalle indagini,
vivranno insienie sedici esperimentatori di nazionalità diversa intenti a stu-
diare la natura e la vita siille Alpi.
"LeAlpi, che sorgevano minacciose per dividerci popoli, servono invecead
attrarre gli stiidiosi dai paesi piii lontani, a stiingeili insieme con vincoli di
simpatia e di amicizia, ad affraltellarli nel nome délia scienza. »
Memorie intorno a G. Prati.
Poco dopo iriO, il Caff'b del Parlamento, a\Van^o\o del \ico\o Cacciabove,
era illuogo di convegno a Roma degli uomini politici piîi in vista e delFari-
stocrazia intellettuale dell' epoca. Troneggiava in un tavolo délia prima sala
Giovanni Prati ', con la chioma folta e lunga ma brizzolata per gli anni; e
intorno a lui si disciiteva molto, di filosotia, di arle, di letteratura, di poli-
tica. Ma si fumava anche di piii ; e tra questo fumo sedeva il Prati, col suo
Virginia tra le labbra, che gli si spegneva di continuo, e che egli riaccendeva
e si vedeva poi nn'altra volta mezzo spento in bocca. Un giorno, era un po'
più presto del solito, mentre il poeta se ne stava solo in un cantuccio, gli si
avvicino uno degli assidui del Caffè, Carlo Massa. Un momento di silenzio e
poi il Prati demanda « Che t'a? » « Fumo conimendatore >> (gli davano quasi
tutti del commendatore). E il poeta dirimando : « Fumo, tutto è fumo, anzi :
Fra i/l'incensi e gl'inni a Dio — Nasce il mistico pëana; — Nasce l' inno ail' arnor
mio — F7~a due nuvole d'avana ; — Sempre fumo e sonpreuscito — Per ynorir
neH'infinito. » Aveva fatto i versi in quel momento o presse a poco. Un altro
giorno, era il 1876, mentre il poeta se ne stava al Caffè con Tommaso Buc-
chia, morto ammiraglio e uno degli eroi di Lissa, improvvisando esclamava :
« Ca)-o Tommaso, — Ullalia è un vaso. — Se tu per casa, — Vi i:)oni il naso,
— Datti pensiere — Di non cadere — Di svenimento — Sid pavimenlo. » E nel
1879, mentre si discuteva alla Caméra la legge sulle nuove costruzioni t'erro-
viarie, improvvisava il seguente epigramma : « 0 meraviglial ognun, senza
divario^ — Dà Vassallo alleslrade ; e, bene o maie — Vuole avcr nelle brac.he
il suo binario- — Per maslrarlo al collegio elellorale. » Madove era grande
Giovanni Prati era nel suo cultoper alcuni uomini del Risorgimento italiano :
Carlo Massa non dimenticô mai una solenne lavata di capo che un giorno il
poeta diede a chi si era permesso di dir maie di Silvio Pellico ! Cosi Carlo
Giordano, in un capitolo del suo libro su Giovanni Prali di cui la Rivisla di
Roma dà la primizia.
1. insigne poeta (1815-1X84). — 2. modo un po' volgare per dire : \uol avère il suo
binario (la sua linea ferroviaria) in tasca.
Le idée fondamentali ni Domenica Papurello.
(CONTINUAZIONE.)
Stranczze del caso ! quest'ultimo aforisma di Domenica Papurello un bel
giorno si era trasformato in realtà. Da scrva ella era diventata padrona.
Un cugino, un bicllese, testardo corne lei, che aveva fatto fort una un po'
[899] PARTE ITALIA^A 147
dappertutto, era morto un bel giorno montre nessuno se lo aspettava, e lui
meno degli altri, e la Domenica Papurello quale più prossima parente ne
aveva ereditata la discreta sostanza.
Ua principio era rimasta un po' stordila ; ma si era rimessa presto. Aveva
affittato un quartierino eleyanluccio anzi che no, aveva comprato dei mobili
molto scolpiti, niolto dorati, molto ricamati, e aveva preso possesso del sno
regno, regina Ici, e suddita una graziosa ragazza di diciottanni, un po" timi-
(la, laboriosa, piena di buona volontà.
Poco tempo dopo era compai-sa dalla signora Perrnccbetti, vestita da
« signora» : un cappello ornato di piumc, una gran mantellina lutta guer-
nita di pellicce, una gran catena d'oro e dei guanti. Era un bellissinio spet-
tacolo.
La signora Perrucchetti, buona al solilo, se l'era fatta sedere vicino, e
s'era iiitrattenuta con lei, ascoltando tutti i discorsi dclTex-cuoca. La quale,
andandosene, con un po' di trepidanza aveva avanzato la domanda :
-— La signora mi verra a trovare ? —
E fatto il primo passo, e avutonc dalla signora gentil risposta atïermativa,
s'era rinfrancata tanto da aggiungere : — lo ricevo il giovedi. —
Un sorriso impercettibile, subito represso, aveva sliorato le labbra délia
signora :
— Va bcnc, allora uno di qucsti giovedi —
— Che ti pare, mamma, di questo pavimento? Non somiglia a quelli che
Domenica lucidava a casa nostra !
Era la signorina Enrica che parlava, menti-e colla madré attendeva che la
« signora Papurello » comparisse in salotlo.
Regnava infatti in tutta la stanza un ordin(i perfetlo e minute, e il pavi-
mento di legno brillava corne uno specchio. La signora Papurello, vestita
con una camicelta di seta grigia lucidissima, comparivanel vano délia porta.
Subito le signore fecero i loro elogi délia bcUa casa, dei bei mobili,
lodando abbondantementc tutti i particolari deirammobiliamento.
Ma Domenica interruppe presto il discorso con un mesto crollar del capo.
— Si, la casa è bella, i mobili, non faccio per dire, son di buon gusto. Lo
so io che li ho pagati. Ma a che giova, con quelle benedette persone di ser-
vizio che lasciano tutto sporco, che non vogliono saperne di spazzare, di
spolverare ? —
La signora Perrucchetti e la (iglia con un moto istintivo alzarono il capo
tissando la Domenica, corne se non avessero potuto credere ai loro orecchi.
Ma questa non si lascio confondere •
— Ah ! che disperazione, signora mia. Io questa che ho lavrei già man-
data via dieci volte, ma a che giova ? tutte lo stesso, tutte pigre, oziose, non
sanno far niente, solo pretendere degli alti salari.
— Questa pero pare una brava ragazza.
— Una brava ragazza ? Dio ne liberi, signora mia. Ha quell'aria cosi da
madonnina intilzata', ma in fondo falsa, bugiarda, cattiva; scommetto che
se polesse mi farebbe a pe:-zi. Ah l signora mia, tutte uguali, le dico, tutte
uguali. Sono le nostre nemiche, il nostro malanno, ecco tutto. —
La signora Perrucchetti e la tiglia si diedero un lungo sguardo, pensose.
Terminata la visita le signore dovettero visitare tutto l'appartamento, e
ammirare cosa per cosa.
Finalmente uscirono in anticamera.
— Lisa, dove sei ? —
La voce délia « signora Domenica » tremava dalla collera.
La porta délia cucina si spalancô e la ragazza apparve, tutta rossa in volto.
1 . sainte-nilouchc.
148 PARIE ITALIANA [900]
— Quante volte ti ho detto che quando suono il campanello devi uscire in
anticaniera e aprir la porta aile « visite? » —
La fanciulla chinava il capo mortiiicata.
— La signora faceva il giro délia casa, . .
— S ta zitta ! —
Ma un'altra ragione di più grave sdegno baizo agli occhi délia teriilnle
padrona.
— E il grembiule bianco ! —
La ragazza allibi e balbettô qualcosa.
— Quante volte te lo debbo dire che li voglio vedere il grembiule bianco.
Tutte cosi, purchè lacciano fare brutta figura ai padroni. .
E avrebbe continuato chi sa quanto, se la signora Perrucchetti non si
fosse congedata.
Barbara Wick-Allason.
Storia di Maggiolino e Teresella.
Questo è un racconto colla sua bella morale in fondo. Incominciando, dico
adunque che vi fu una volta un certo Maggiolino, ragazzetto buono ed inno-
cente, il quale nel tempo stesso che faceva il procaccio ' fra Dolzago e i casci-
nali, studiava il modo di poter diventare un giorno o segretario o almeno
maestro nel suo Comune.
Maggiolino non era un'aquila, c bastava che uno lo guardasse in viso per
capire che tutte le gotïaggini di cui era capace, egli le cavava tutte dal suo
cervello, senza bisogno, corne fanno molti, di leggerle e d'impararle sui libri ;
ma poichô io ho sempre creduto che una natura semplice e rara meriti di
essere descrilta, cosl non dubito di raccontarvi corne Maggiolino a diciotto
anni fosse un coso lungo, insomma un pertichino ^ o, se vi par meglio, un
tutt'assieme che stia fra l'obelisco e la canna d'organo. Forse in lui era entrata
qualche reminiscenza paterna, perche il babbo, che era l'organista del paese,
suonando, soleva guardai-e piuttosto in su aile canne che non ai tasti, e nella
voce stessa del tigliuolo un orecchio tino avrebbe potuto sentire l'eco di una
cornetta con qualche bemolle in chiave.
Maggiolino colla bisaccia délie lettere ad armacollo, nientre batteva le
strade comunali, accompagnava il passo colla trombetta e col tamburo délie
labbra, camminando a onde corne una palla di gomma. Se incontrava l'asino
del mugnaio, gli faceva grandi l'iverenzc, lo chiamava illustrissime, cavalière,
sor sindaco, senza ciedcre con ciù di far torto a nessuno, forse nemmeno
alla povera bestia. Egli dunque poteva essere un uomo felice se ve n'è uno
al mondo; ma al tempo del nostro racconto si vedeva che una malinconia
grigia e pénétrante come una pioggerella di Novembre, infastidiva i suoi
pensieri. Andava spesso colla testa curva sul petto, e, (|uando se ne ricor-
dava, faceva dei sospironi, o si fermava di botto in mezzo alla strada, sotlo
il sole, tisso a contemplare l'ombra délia sua persona sul terreno ; un'om-
bra malcdetta che cresceva ogni mese una mezza spanna.
Conviene prima sapere che fin da ragazzo, (juando giuocava con Teresella
suir erba dei prati magri, egli le aveva promesso di sposarla, il di che
diventasse maestro o segretario. I due babbi erano contenu come d'un ambo
al lotto, perché la Teresella, figliuola di Tita lo zoccolaio, portava in dote due
prati e due mani d'oro per una casa, e Maggiolino, figliuolo di Carlambro-
gio, rimpiego, l'ingegno, e una vacca.
Già da alcuni anni Tita e C.arlambrogio se la intendevano da vecchi amici ;
1. portalettere . — 2. pertica, perche.
[901]
PARTE ITALIANA
149
l'organista veniva tutte le sere a bottega dallo zoceolaio e vi fumava due
pipe, ed ogni domenica lo zoceolaio andava a cena in casa delTorganista ;
sedevano fra i duo figliuoli, discorrendo, mangiando e mescolando gli zoc-
coli alla musica, conie avvic-ne di rado nei noslri concerti.
Tutto ])as.sa quaggiù, dice una sentenza ; Maggiolino fece gli esami e passô
segretario. Ora ben poleva canlare una niessa, pigliarsi la sua ïeresella c
toccare il cielo cou un dito ^ ; ma era qui la sua disgrazia, la sua nialedizione.
Egli non aveva ancur linilo di crescere e quanlo andava su su tiucliù c'era
poslo, allroUanto la Teresella slava ferma, osUnala alla misura dei suoi
dodici anni, sebbene ne avcsse diciassetle ; a t'ai- molto essa si alzava di un
nielro e cinque sopra lo sLagno délie oche ; una bambola, un cagnolino a
confronto del suo niarito. (Juando lornavano dalla cliiesa, i Mdanzati avanti
e i babbi dopo, gli scolari più svcgii vedevano una certa somiglianza fra gli
sposi e l'articolo il lino al punto di chianiarli la signora i e il signor /.
Maggiolino non vedeva confini al progresso umano, corne il filosofo posi-
livisla ; ma la Teresella una volta messo il tetto sul capo, lasciava correre
gli anni senza seguirli, o aveva un modo suo di collocarseli addosso e d'im-
botlirne i tianchi, le polpe c le ganasce, talcliè, veduta per sbieco pare\a una
corba * di ticlii.
Ouesto era il gran dcjlore per Teresella, corne .Maggiolino, abbiani visto,
aveva il suo : come tutti abbiamo i nostri. E non poteva neppure stamparne
un libro !
Erano forse tre anni cbe i due tidanzati si misuravano a vicenda e si man-
giavano cogli occhi. iMaggiolino tutte le volte che entrava in bottega, vedeva
bene che la ragazza s'era niessa sotto o un tabarro'' di Tila, se sedevaa lavorare,
oppure trascinava per la casa due zoccoli da statua équestre. Dal canto suo
Teresella si senliva scomparire all'uggia di un olmo cbe riempiva tutta la
bottega e dondolava innanzi a lei, come il pendolo di un vecchio oriolo ;
crescevano entrambi, ma egli piiitosto a gui*a di scopa verde in un palude ;
essa a guisa di fiume quando sgela.
Una volta Ma^^giolino le fece sentire in bel modo cbe tuccava a lei, perché
in quanto a se non voleva niettt^rsi sotto il torchio dell'uva. Per cui la poveia
bambina pensi» di non star tanto a sedere, di non stagnare in casa, di darsi
moto per l'aia, di correre e di saltare pei vigneti, incespicando, capitombu-
lando, bollandosi il naso e lafronte, cbe è il gran rimedio suggerito ai ragazzi
per di\entare grandi.
{Continua.) Emilio De Marchi ♦.
3. toccare il cielo cou un dito = veder realizzati i propri desideri, sentirsi feiicis-
simo. — 4. cesta. — 5. mantello. — * Dal volume Nooelle e Bozzetli di uutori
italiaîii viventi raccolti da G. Finzi, di cui si parla oggi nel Supplemento.
Quiete meridiana.
Assonna ^ il cielo bianco,
11 vento, stanco,
Sospira e tacesi ;
Tace, fra boschi e prati
Discolorati,
Il lago plumbeo - ;
1. cioè : sta assonnato, par che dorma,
tanto è tranquillo e monotone. — i. di
piombo.
La placid'Alpe énorme
Sul pian che dorme
Veglia in silenzio.
Appena appena io sento
Di qualche armento
Le squille treniole ;
E, nel riposo arcano,
Penso un lontano
Gore che pensami.
Antonio Fogazzaro.
150
PARTE ITALIANA
[902]
Passo difficile.
« Ecco, nei miei due anni di vita militare ho appreso clie brava
bestia sia il mulo, e corne meriti che gli si voglia bene. Quando li vedevo
in qiiartiere grossi e pesanti sotto il loro grave carico non mi pareva vero
Ula fii(o(.'ia(ia di \',. Camoï.ettci
, . (Iiipo un lireve hait coiiiiiicin la discesa.
che délie simili hostie potessero andare in montagna, saliro dei sentieri,
marciare snll' orlo di precipizi. Quando poi li ho visti alT azioue. ...
non avrei mai creduto che potessero fare quei miracoli.
Per ore ed ore essi resistono a camminare in salita o per discese rapide,
su per sentieri intagliati nella roceia, giii per i greti che franano conti-
nuamente, carichi di un atfusto o di un cannone pesantissimi senza ince-
spicare, senza stancarsi, senza cadere.
Talvolta dei brutti latti ne succedono : manca loro nn piede, l'abisso
è 11 spalancato, e allora giù, rotolano fino al fondo che poi l'orecchio è il
pezzo più grosso che ne rimanga. Che orrore !
Una volta stava per accadere a me Mi ricorderù sempre. Al colle Rodo-
retto menavo Gastore, il più bel mulo délia batteria, un mulo grosso,
vigoroso, che aveva già (Quattro anni di servizi ed era pratico délia mon-
tagna come un alpinista.
lo con lui andavo a occhi chiusi, senza l'ar l'atica. Una delizia vi dico.
Quel giorno dei colle Rodoretto perù mi accorsi lin dal mattinoche non
era lui : pareva stanco, svogiiato, e aveva l'atto la salita quasi a stento.
[903] PARTE ITALIANA 151
Ghi sa, povera bestia, f'orse non stava bene. Finalmente giunti sul colle
dopo im brève hait cominciù la discesa. La via era tutta pietrosa e ad
ogni passo i sassi e la rena si staccavano e rotolavano giù con un ru more
di valanga. lo non sentivo al mio mulo il solito garretto d'acciaio, e facevo
dei grandi sforzi per sostenerlo.
Parecchi inuli eran già scivolati, ma l'ortunatamente eran stati tratte-
nuti a tempo; quando a un bel momento una pietra più grossa si stacca
sotto le zampe di Castore e questo mi va giii colle quattro gambe tese che
pareva pattinasse. lo pianto Valpenstok tendendo tutti 1 muscoli : alla
nostra sinistra il precipizio scendeva vertiginosa mente.
— Castore, perdio, Castore !
La brava bestia parve intendermi, tese di più le gambe liggendo i ferri
nel suolo che pareva una statua. Bastù perché qualcuno accorresse,
m'aiutasse a tirar su il mulo sul sentiero, e non accadde altro. Ma vi dico
io un brutto momento l'avevo passato e una gran paura l'avevo
avuta ! — » B.-W.-A.
Le betuUe lungo la strada *.
(jiiesto grazioso qiiadretto è dovuto alla penna del re Oscardi Svezia, che lo scrisse
a diciott'annj. Lo togliamo alla « Raccolta di prose « pubblicate in tedesco nella bellis-
sima \ersione di Emilio Jonas — Casa Editrice A. G. — Amburgo.
lu un mattino d'autunno, nientre la palla infuocata del sole era già
spuntata sopra l'orizzonte senza che i suoi raggi avessero tuttavia riscaldato
il i'resco aère, io vidi lungo una strada alcune betulle colle foglie già
ingiallite. La loro stagione s'aprossimava al fine; la loro vita végétale,
benchè brève, era stata bella, poichè era trascorsa fra la meravigliosa
natura dei paesaggi nordici. AUorchè i raggi del sole primaverile avevan
latto fondere le nevi ed i ghiacci, allorchc i ruscelli disgelati mormora-
vano cos) piacevolmente e l'allodola librandosi alta per l'azzurro sprigio-
nava dal petto i suoi trilli, tenere gemme sbocciarono sui nudi rami, poi
ne uscirono le fogUoline che prosperarono al tepido soffio primaverile. Il
boschetto di betulle si vesti del verde colore délia speranza. Finchèilsole.,
il dio dairiccioli luminosi, regnô sul nord, esse godettero délia lor liorente
bellezza. Innocent! e semplici esse si accarezzavano tra di loro e regala-
vano la loro ombra ristoratrice al viandante stanco dall' arsura solare.
Ma ora, trascorsa la troppo brève estate nordica, vedi corne sopportano
umilmente il destine e lasciano cadere al suolo il tesoro délie loro corone.
Giunto il tempo dell' umiliazione e délia sventura esse sono ancor li quasi
ad ammirare questa lacita ora mattutina. Parrebbe che al viandante,
che trascorre loroinnanzifrettoloso per avviarsial lavoro giornalierodopo
il riposo domenicale, essi parliiio, risvegliando in lui sensi d'ammira-
zione e pensieri sciolti da cure terrene.
Anche l'uomo ha la sua primavera, la sua estate, il suo autunno ! la
primaveraè la giovinezza, l'estate la virilità el'autunnola vecchiaia. Ma è
vero che puô essere autunno anche nel bel mezzo délia primavera corne
al tempo delTautunno puo sorgere un'alba primaverile. Il dolore puô
trasformare in sera il mattino, la primavera in autunno. L'albero délia
'Vedi le altre quattro parti.
irj2 PARTE ITALIANA [904]
vitacolpito dalla folgore a stento si rialza, e seppure vi riesce gli bisogna
tempo a ciô. Aiizi ciè gli sarà impossibile se non si troveranno persone
benevoli che puntellino l'albero vacillante e lo tengan diritto ! Nel
deserto lo scirocco consuma la palma solitariatinchè essa cade,perquanto
ella fosse forte e slanciata. [Segue.)
Attualità.
G orne lavorava E. De Amicis.
Lo dice neWillustrazione Italiana W « conte Ottavio > che ha potuto
vedere l'énorme mole di manoscritti del De Amicis sui quali Dino Man-
tovani lavora alla preparazione délia biograOa dello scrittore defunto. In
alcuni zibaldoni' egli segnava di pagina in paginai! tema d'un articolo, d'un
racconto o d'un libro, appena gli veniva alla fantasia. Per anni egli in
quella pagina, sotto quel titolo, accumulava le note, note di vita e di let-
ture, aneddoti uditi da amici, spunti di conversazione, pensieri suoi,
finchè un bel giorno l'articolo, il racconto gli pareva pronto, ed egli s'ac-
cingeva a scriverlo, facendo ancora un nuovo quadro di tutti quei fram-
menti. Gli zibaidoni sono una ventina, in quarto ein ottavo, tutti legati e
numerati. In una stessa pagina, sotto un solo tema, s'incontrano scritture
antichee ingiallite di vent'anni fa, e scritture nere di ieri. Il volume délie
note per V/dioma gentile è tre 0 quattro volte più spesso del manoscritto
finale. Un articolo ch'egli preparava negli ultimi giorni doveva essere
intitolato Che cosa so ? : un articolo d'una modestia socratica. Indica il
manoscritto, di riga in riga : « Introduzione, esame di coscienza, lacune :
geografia, storia, letteratura, invenzioni délie quali per lo più non si sa
che l'uso pratico senza sapere ne l'origine ne il corne». Di tianco a
ognuno (li questi paragrali spuntano, corne le fronde da un ramo, i pen —
sieri già più precisi e più pronti. Ad esempio : « Paragone tra me e un
dotto ». « Poter penetrare nella testa d'un contadino analfabeta ». « Gom'
è difficile saper leggere! » E sotto, a mo' di conclusione : « Saremo sem-
pre ignoranti » .
Una statistica intéressante.
Una statistica curiosa e délia quale i maligni potranno insinuare che
dice moite cose, è quella pubblicata dalla Gazzetta diVenezia sul récente
congresso femminile di Roma. Durante tutta la settimana del congresso
intervennero aile riunioni ben 447 congressiste, délie quali 446 presero
parte alla discussione e una sola rimase zitta : la rappresentante dell'I-
stituto lombardo. .. . délie sordomute. Gomplessivamente furono pro-
nunziati 6iS discorsi, quasi tutti improvvisati, poichè nella statistica non
s'è tenuto conto délie relazioni propriamente dette. Ma i dati più interes-
santi délia citata statistica sono questi: congressiste 447, maritate !^6,
vedove 28, nubili 302, di cui : sotto i 20 anni 2, oltre i 50 anni 378, con
cappello « acampana » 12, con cappello « rococù » 28, con cappellino
« à la vierge » 337, occhiali 113, occhialini 107, lenti di ingrandimento
184, cuftie 39, parruche 7, dentiere 4, tabacchiere 18. Infine durante il
congresso furono spediti dalle sole congressiste 3112 telegrammi per un
complesso di oltre 240,000 parole. E le cartoline illustrate con autografi
furono — ahimè — 140,000 circa.
1. quaderni dove sono mescolati scritti diversi, appunti, ecc.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 20. 20 Juillet 1908. 8» Année.
PARTE ITALIANA
La feste tassoniane di Modena e Bologna.
Nel 1249 Modena e Bologna orano in guerra. Impériale e ghibellina la
prima, guelfa c nazionale la seconda, il 26 maggio venivano a conflitlo alla
Fossalta, a poca distanza da Modena, e quivi gl" imperiali, comandati da
Enzo, tiglio di Federico II, toccavano una memoranda scontitla, per cui Enzo
veniva tratto a perpétua prigionia. Tre secoli dopo, il poeta modenese Ales-
sandro Tassoni ' scrivendo un immortale poema eroicomico, La secchia
rapiia, con felice anacronismocollcgava l'episodio récente délia secchia tolta
dai Modenesi ai Bolognesi, con la baltaglia di Fossalta. Ecco perché il 28
giugno di quest'anno, Bologna e Modena, non più nemiche politiche, ma
città sorelle deiritalia imita, ban celebralo una testa comiine, dove il ricordo
dalla vittoria riportata suirimperialismo teutonico si sposa a quello dcl poeta
che caiitù quella vittoria.
Semplice la festa : da tutt'ltalia letterati e uomini politici avevano mandato
la loro adesione. Nel mattino da Bologna giungcvano le autorità municipali,
il poeta Olindo Guerrini e la suafamiglia, molti professori di qnell'Ateneo -
e un numéro grande di privati. Dopo un rinfresco al Municipio vi lu la visita
alla storica « secchia», una modesta secchia da pozzo consumata dal tempo,
che si conserva nella famosa torre délia Ghirlandina. Poscia i convenuti si
recavano al ponte di Fossalta dove i Bolognesi si impadronirono del biondo
signore svevo, e qui fu inaugurata la lapide con la bella epigrafe dettata da
Isidoro del Lungo:
Guerre fratricide di liberi comuni — se.gnacolo in vessillo ' l' Impero o la
Chiesa - — conibattute — strazio e lutto d'Italia^ — pot nella dura serviti) —
con magnanimo scherno cantate dal poeta délia « Secchia rapita » bene oggi —
da modenesi e bolognesi — convenuti nel santo nome délia patria italiana —
sono ricordate con animo fraterno — qui dove suona Veco di quelle armi e di
quel canto — menlre il secolo per due vie — ai popoli dalVantico errore assen-
nati — addita il termine a tutti unico — délia giustizia pacificatrice.
Allô scoprimento seguiva un banchettodi più che cento coperti nella ma-
gnifica villa del marchese Campori. In occasione délia bella testa si son fatte
parecchie e notevoli pubblicazioni di circostanza : la più importante è il poe-
metto epico del Pascoli, di cui parleremo a parte ; inollre, con prefazione
delPascoli, il Casini e ilSantihanno curato un'ottima Misceltanea tassoniana
contenente 30 monografie su re Enzo, suUa battaglia di Fossalta e suH'opera
tassoniana in générale.
1. 1565-1635. — 2. Università. — 3. Intendi : le guerre fratricide del comuni combat-
tute in nome délia Chiesa e dell'Inipero e che furono strazio e lutto d'Italiii .
[119] ITAL. 20
154 PAUTE ITALIANA [962]
Un poema epico di G. Pascoli.
La canzone dellolifante.
Giovanni Pascoli dalbi poesia lirica è passato aU'epica con un brève poe-
metto che rievoca fantasticamente Enzo, il biondo figlio di Federico II, il
valoroso rampoUo di Svevia, fatto prigionioro a vita dai Bolognesi alla balta-
glia délia Fossalt.a.
Quando fii faite prigione Euzo aveva poco piîi che vent'anni ; quando il
canto si âpre ne lia quasi qiiaranta, poichè è un venerdi del febliraio 1266, ed
è precisamente il giorno in cui laggiù, nellapianura di Benevento, il fratello
Manfredi alla testa dei suoi prodi svevi e degli infidi pugliesi giuoca l'ultima
carta delTimperialisino, combaltendo l'infelice battaglia contre le schiere di
Carlo d'Angle. Enzo questo non lo sa, poichè niuna notizia arriva nella
torre ove egli è guardalo dai suoi sedici custodi, ma un'indistinta angoscia,
un indefinibile terrore gli grava suU'animo:
Enzo guaniava il sole,
il re vedeva l'Asinella ' acuta
la rossa torre sulla via di Roma.
Par là ne! verno il conte di Monforte
coi maliscalchi - e cavalier di Francia
era stradato '. Allor già verno, è ora
fin di febbraio ; ora in Campagna e Puglia
che avvien di vol, leoni di Soave ? '
Ora in palagio i sedici custodi
sparsi par l'aula seguono con gli occhi
il re pensoso. Egli ode nella strada
la cantilena lunga d'un giullare
e un aspro suono di vivuola . .
Il giuUai-e, Torse délia marca trivigiana, uno di quei canlastorie popolari
a cui una provvigione ^ del comiine di Bologna dcl 1288 inibiva di fermarsi
a cantare per le piazze, canta la « santa gesta », canta le lasse, le stanze
monorime délia C/ianson de Roland, da lui rabberciate ' in italiano, canta la
rotta di Roncisvalie : Ulivieri che misura con lo sguardo la marea immensa
dei saracini che avanza, e implora Orlando di suonare il corno d'avorio,
l'olifante per richiamare Carlo Magno che sta lassîi nclle gole dei Pirenei,
coiresercito avviato verso la Francia.
Ode re Enzo ; ascolta corne in sogno,
perché il suo cuore è in Capitana e Puglia.
Ode, e sogna. E dalla visionc délia rotta dei paladini evocata dalla voce
del giullare che sale dalle tinestre, t'ra i lazzi dei suoi custodi, il suo cuore
è tratto come da un confuso presagio a immaginare la lotta che si combatte
laggiù.
E laggiù Manfredi tiene consiglio coi suoi baroni. Invano i fedeli lo pre-
gano di differire la battaglia e di prendere i francesi per famé :
Un giorno o due s'attenda
saranno morti e presi per diffaita "
di pane e biade per i lor cavaiii.
A Benevento e' mal sarà venuto ».
Manfredi non ascolta ; l'astrologo studia le sue carte...
1. la torre deçiU AsinelU, célèbre a Bologna. — 2. maréchaux . — 3. avviato. —
4. Svevia. — 5. viola. — 6. decreto. — 7. raflfazzonate, adattate allameglio. — 8. man-
ranza, faute.
[963J FAUTE ITAUANA 155
E il giullare continua a cantare : è Ulivieri che implora :
Son tante schiere, quante dir non posso :
Compagna abbiam noi picciola a tal uopo.
RoUando amico, date flato al corno !
Lungi n'udrà l'imperatore il siiono
Là nelle gole e tosto sarà vollo ».
RoUando dice : « Sarô prima io morto !
Onore e loda perdere non voglio
Non corno qui ma Durendal ha luogo.
S\, la vedrete rossa fino all'oro.
Enzo sobbalza. « Oli questo, pensa, non accadrk nel tiio campo, biondo
e gentile fratello ». L"imperalore non lascerà soii i suoi prodi. E laggii^i l'a-
strologo ha dato il segno, e Manfredi dà ai suoi cavalieri il grido di giierra :
Soavia ! E la voce del giullare ricorda in quel punto il grido dei paladini :
Un grido s'alza intorno a lui : iMongioia !
E il giullare canta, canta lapugna terribile, le erbe grondanti di sangue,
i cavalli che scalciano con le selle vuole, il eielo che si rinTosca e tuona...
Enzo balza in pieili :
Il re prigione balza in pie d'un lancio.
La chioma grigia sopra il capo ondeggia
corne ondeggiava al ponte Sant'Ambrogio
in mezzo al roseo polverio di maggio.
Sorgonoinsieme i sedici custodi
quasi tendendo contro lui le branche...
Enzo non sa che pena gli agiti il cuore. Forse vede i suoi biondi svevi
cader laggiii sotto i francesi, vede forse Manfredi, che ritto su un colle guarda
le sue schiere in fuga che ripassano il ponte di BenevenLo.
E il canto del giullare opprime il suo orecchio. Ora canta diOrlando, che,
tutto intriso di sangue, vorrebbe suonar l'olifante per richiamar Carlo Magno :
ma Ulivieri non lo soffre. Ed entrambi, scntendo la ruina imminente, pian-
gono...
Ed anche Enzo piange, e non sa perche.
Là giù, in Puglia, Manfredi con l'elmo in mano, mira la sua rotta. Dispe-
rato, sprona, si gelta nella mischia. « Che avviene là ? » si domanda Enzo.
Ma nessuno sa che avvenga laggiù. Il giorno cade, il sole tinge in rosa la torre
dell'Asinella. E il giullare è giunlo nel suo racconto al momento estremo.
RoUando prende tutta la sua lena :
neirolifante con furor lavvenla.
La fronte crêpa, scoppiano le tempia.
Son alti i monti ; ma la voce immensa.
La voce va, neU'alto si dilegua,
passa allimperatore sulla testa.
E Carlo Magno si arresta e comprende, e fa suonar tutti i corni di guerra e
ritorna precipitosamente sui suoi passi.
La canzone tace. Si è fatto notte :
E suona la campana del Comune
a tocchi radi. Ella è sonata a soga. ^
Buon artigiano, cessa l'opra : è notte.
Uomo dabbene, torna a casa : è buio .
Il bevitore esca dalla taverna.
Chi giuoca a zara, lasci il tavoliere.
Uscite, o guaite '», per veder se alcuno
va per la terra senza lume o fuoco.
.^ffretta il passo, o peregrino, e trova
9. colle corde, cioè a distesa. — 10. le scolte (questo e il précédente sono termini
assolutamente inusitali).
156 PARTE ITALIANA [964]
qualche uscio aperto, ove tu chieda albergo.
Ora in palagio tuonano le porte,
i catenacci stridono e le chiavi,
serrando il re. Poi tace ultima anch'essa
la lunga lugubre campana.
Ma Enzo persegue nel suo pensiero il canto, ode ancoi* suonare il corno :
vede la rossa valle tinta di sangue, è l'imperatore, è Carlomagno, che dopo
cinquccento anni viene a cercare i caduti per i'idea impériale. E la valle ne
è colma. Ogniino tien la spada fra le braocia corne una croce : un giglio è
nato in ogni bocca ad ogni morte : e attorno gli sta lesercito con gli elmi
luccicanti e i gonfaloni ondeggianti aile aste. Ma è un sogno.
E' un brusio dombre vane
cli'ode re Enzo, quale in foglie secche
notturna fa la pioggia e il vento.
Cosi tinisce il poema pubblicato; altri canti verranno a completare l'intero
ciclo epico che il poeta si propone di scrivcre intorno a Enzo di Svevia.
Storia di Maggiolino e Teresella.
(CONTINUAZIOE.)
Segui anche i pareri d'una pia vedovella che aveva medicozzi ' per lutti i
mali e spocialmente j)er quelli che non esistono. Dopo aver recitato per tre
volte senza smettere, le litanie dei santi, che sono Innghe, trangiigio d'un
fiato trc uova nate durante il solslizio d'estate ; mangio Ire insalate derba
costina, ma non ne ricavô nulla, meno la nausoa. Avendo udito che anche
gli occhi vogliono la sua parte, durante i crepiiscoli malinconici, qiiando si
imbrnnano anche i pensieri, sedeva suUuscio, cogli occhi fissi al lungo
campanile aguzzo mentre colle mani andava sgomitolando e refe e naslri e
nastri e refe. Povora Teresella ! avrebbe volentieri sgomitolata cosi anche se
stessa e invidiava le lucertole délia siepe, magrc e svelte corne saette.
I ragazzi di Dolzago, che sono corne tutti i ragazzi dcl mondo, anche nella
scuola si alzavano sui banchi e facevanocapolino dietio i vetii délia tineslj-a
per vedere a passare Tanima lunga liinga ; lo misuravano col sistema
metrico, lo dividcvano in oncie e in braccia, o se pui s'imbattevano in lui
sulla strada :
— Ohe ! ohe ! gridavano, /, l, il ; i, l, il.
Maggiolino si voltava arrovellato- corne un gallo selvalico, gridava duc o
tre volte come un paleo o un molino a vento, ne picchiava un paio, ne
acchiappava un terzo e seguiva per la sua strada col passo a onda.
Anche le ragazze insieme ai ragazzi non crano i»iîi buone verso Teresella;
la sera, in chiesa, quando a mezzo del rosario senlivano il rumore dei famosi
zoccoli, bastava che una dicesse: Sancta Maria, oca pro nobis, perché tutte
le altre ripetessero : Oca pro nobis. I priori, le manime, il sagrestano pic-
chiavano colla perlica spalle e zucciie, ma si lasciavano scappare dei risolini
che invogliavano a far peggio. A Dolzago ormai non c'era nessuno che non
sospirasse il giorno délie nozze, e anche qualche vecchierello malato si
lusingava d'essere in gambe per la terza domenica di .Maggio, il gran giorno
tissato dal signo curato. —
Gli sposi, come si pu(i pensaro, n'ebbeio amareggiato l'amore e la vita. La
Teresella, stanca di piangere, comincio a vcrsare un po' di colpa addosso a
1. medicine (in senso spregiativo). — 2. arrabbiato, infuriato.
[965] PARTE ITALTAINA 157
Maggiolino perché, seconde il suo modo di xedei'O, è pin naturale e piîi sem-
plice che ciasciino stia fermo al suo posto, di qiiello clie non sia invadere il
posto délie niivole, c chi sta bene, dice il proverbio, non si muove.
Dopo tutto essa non aveva promesso di crescere corne una rovere e,
in quanto al veslirsi e al letlo per conto suo non si sari^bbe speso un soldo
di troppo.
Essi sedevano una sera sulla pietra a pie' dol pozzo aecanto al gelso, ma
si voltavano le spalle.
Maggiolino corruccialo appoggiava le gomita aile ginocchia, Teresella na-
scondeva le mani solto il gren)biule. Sulla pietra del pozzo sonnecchiava
accoccolato il gatto bianco.
I due sposi si erano scambiate délie aspre parole ed ora tacevano il tempo
di mandarle giù. Fu il primo Maggiolino a rompere il silenzio : e tii-ando il
fiato dal fondo del pozzo ^ disse :
— Ho pensato, e vedo che è l'unico rimedio. Senlite, Teresella, io vi ho amata
e vi amo come il giorno che si guardava insieme la vacca rossa nei prati
niagri ; ma poiehè è scritto nel libro del destino che io non possa rendervi
felice, addio, non parliamono piîi.
— Gosa inlcndote di dire con questo non parliamone piii'l domando Teresella
portando il grembiale agliocchi.
— Cosa ? di lasciare ]»er sempre questo maledetto paese.
— E dove voleté andare?
— In Africa, in Australia,al Polo Artico,in qualche luogo,dove un iiomonon
sia più seccato per la ragione cheè un uomo grande.
— La colpa è miache non ho saputo venire al passo con voi.
— leri sul mercato d'Oggiorno, tutti mi domandavano: o Maggiolino, intendi
sposarti tutto d'un pezzo o mczzo per volta? Quel giorno vei'rebbero da venti
miglia lontano a vedere, a ridere, a farci morire di vergogna. Io non potrei
condurti a una fiera, a una lesta senza paura dei ragazzi. .No, no : addio !...
Tu troverai un uomo piili degno di te e io. . . io... Ah! beu dice Dante che non
si ama che una volta sola.
Maggiolino usci dalla porticina delFoi'to quandogià laluna spuntava dietro
il campanile. Andù a casa e prépara una valigia per imbarcarsi il giorno
appresso per il Polo Artico sulla vettura del Pace detto anche Vapiano. Ma la
mattina senti dire che Teresella, dopo una notte di purgatorio, era a
letto con una gran febbre e con grandi punlure alla testa. Di tanto in tanto
usciva in delirio e chiamava il suo Maggiolino.
II ragazzo sedette aecanto al suo letto e la vegli») tre giorni e tre notti ; la
febbre abbruciava la pelle délia poveramalata. A capo di quindici giorni essa
comincio a scender dal letto, era asciugata, pallida, stremata di forze, ma
la febbre l'aveva battuta ed allungata, come un martello sopra un chiodo.
Quai gioia fu la vostra, Maggiolino e Teresella ! e come rimasero scornati i
curiosi, la terza domenica di maggio ! e quante differenze fra uoniini e donne
non guarirebbe una febbre damore !
Emilio De Marchi *.
3. profondaniente. — * Dal volume Novelle e BozzetU di Autoii italiani viventi
raccolti da G. Finzi, di oui si è parla to nel l'ultimo Supplemento.
Il Foro di Pompei.
Era questa la piazza principale e il centro morale délia città, al quale
facevan corona i più important! editizi pubblici. Inaccessibile ai carri,
aveva tutti gringressi sbarrati e il pavimento di lastre di travertino. Era
lo8
PARTE ITALIANA
[966]
cinto nn tempo per tre lati (est, sud, ovest) da un portico dorico di tufo,
rivestito di stucco, con galleria superiore, che il questore Vibio Popidio
aveva latto innalzare negli ultimi tempi dell' autonomia ' di Pompei.',La
galleria o portico superiore di ordine ionico, a cui si perveniva mediante
alcune scalette di fabbrica, aveva anche lo scopo di oftVire un posto più
Pompei. — Veduta del Foro.
■ v.(\"' niom'i
comodo e sicuro per assistere allé leste ed ai giochi e massime ai ludi -
gladiatorii che, anteriormente alla costruzione dell' antiteatro pompeiano,
dovevanoqui aver luogo.
Sul quarto lato o settentrionale il Foro c coronato dal tempio di Giove
{CapiloUian), preceduto da una gradinata e tiancheggiato da due archi di
trionfo, altra volta rivestiti di lastre niarmoree.
Numerose statue popolavano il Foro. Appiè délie colonne del portico,
sul gradino di travertino eran coUocate statue in piedi di grandezza natu-
rale. Immagini dunque il visitatore questo Foro cinto di un bel portico a
doppio ordine, pavimentato di bianche lastre di travertino, decorato di
un popolo di statue, col Capitolium a capo, dominante la piazza, con le
facciate degli editizi tutte rivestite di marmo, col verdeggiante Vesuvio
nello sfondo, attraverso la l'uga degli archi marmorei di trionfo, ed avrà
ricostruito in un certo modo il Foro di Pompei quale doveva essere diciotto
secoli or sono.
A. SOGLIANO.
1. indipendenza. — 2. giuochi (da ludus).
[967] PARTE ITALIANA 159
Le betulle lungo la strada
II
Ma, grazie a Dio, anche di pieno autunno puô essere priniavera ! Osser-
vate quel fitto boschetto di betulle. Appagate délia loro vita estiva, esse
aspettano il riposo délia lunga notte invernale, poichè sperano che quando
l'inverno non infurierà più, un' aura piii mite, un sole più fulgido, un
canto più grandioso che il muggito délia bufera autunnale li ridesterà a
nuova vita, a nuovi godimenti. E ciô è la loro esistenza : quest' incessante
alternativa di nascita e di decesso, di vita e di morte.
E noi ? noi che spesso siamo cos\ ingrati allorchè il destino ostacola il
nostro cammino, che biasimiamo i disegni délia Provvidenza e ci oppo-
niamo al loro compimento, e spesso, orgogliosamente, ci vorremmo fab-
bricare un mondo che giudichiamo migliore — che pensiamo noi mai ?
La promessa, depositata nei nostri cuori, délia risurrezione e délia pri-
mavera, dopo l'autunno délia vita e l'inverno del sepolcro, non è molto
più saggia e beatificante che la promessa di ogni altro individuo nel
regno délia natura? E questo dono non è esso molto più prezioso di tante
altre cose che i tigli délia terra chiamano inestimabili ? 0 perché mai
disperiaino f La primavera dopo l'inverno délia tomba non avrà mai
fine, poichè è eterna e permanente. Essa è più splendida di ogni prima-
vera terrena : Dio ne è il sole, e noi ne saremo gli angeli.
E come credere che l'amicizia che avremo nutrita quaggiù non ci
seguirà in quella miglior vita ? come non credere che sarà anzi più forte ?
Si, l'amicizia che avrà legato gli uomini mentre vivevano e per diverse
vie tendevano alla medesima meta e lavoravano per raggiungerla, soprav-
viverà dopo che la meta sarà stata toccata, e in un migliore mattino di
primavera, sposata ad una canzone primaverile più splendida, ci seguirà
nella primavera eterna e sarà il miglior ricordo che possederemo di una
vita terrena trascorsa e d'un freddo autunno.
{Fine.)
* Vedi le altre quattro parti.
Varietà.
Quel che costa uuo sciopero.
Per più di due mesi Parma è stata desolata da uno sciopero agrario.
Ora, una statistica approssimativa ma impressionante di quanto puo co-
stare un grande sciopero è data nella Tribuna dal prol. Bizzozzero diret-
tore délia cattedra ambulante d'agricoltura a Parma. « lo credo — egli
dice — che i contadini parmensi dal principio dello sciopero ad oggi,
abbiano risentiti danni effettivi per un milione e 300.000 lire. E ciô senza
160 PAHTE ITALIANA [9681
tenerconto délie conseguenze più o menodiiette délia lotta,cioè sl'ratti ^
emigrazione, ecc. » Qiianto ai proprietari, essi lianno perduto finora : per
maggiori spese di mano d'opéra un milione c 300.000 lire ; péril bestiame
(minor prezzo di vendita e perdite di prodotli per gli esodi ^i 500.000 lire;
per il lieno (essendo stato mietuto a mezzo o falciato troppo maturo)
200.000 lire, per il caseiticio S 200.000 lire. A tutto ciù si aggiungano : le
perdite sui prodotti di bietole, pomodori, viti, ecc, per mancate cure
culturali, perdite che possono valutarsi in un milione e mezzo; le perdite
nel prodotto dei bozzoli, per minore allevamento e scarse cure, loO.OOO
lire. In totale i proprietari hanno dunque risentito danni per tre milioni
e 850.000 lire. Tra contadini e proprietari 5 milioni e 150.000 lire di
danni.
La schiavitù nel Benadir.
La schiavitù africana, che tanta azione sentimentale esercita nel mondo
civile ove si diffondono le società antischiaviste, non sarebbe l'orse una
condizione di benessere ? Quasi lo si crederebbe leggendo ciù che
Giuseppe Piazza scrive da Mogadiscio alla Tribuna a proposito délia
schiavitù nel Benadir, ove essa ha tre gradazioni diverse : lungo la
Costa, sull'Uebi Scebeli e neH'interno. Lungo la costa la schiavitù
sarebbe ridotta a una servitù domestica simile alla nostra, con diritto
al trattamento précise délia famiglia del padrone ; lungo l'Uebi
Scebeli e in Goscia, sul Giuba, gli schiavi sono mantenuti dal padrone
e lavorano per lui; hanno pen') il lunedi e il venerd). tutti per loro, nei
(juali son liberi di oziare, o di lavorare con retribuzione che va a loro
esclusivo benelicio. — Le condizioni peggiori sono quelle degli schiavi
dell'interno perpétua mente attaccati alla gleba ; questi sarebbero i soli
ad essere battuti e incatenati, ma semplicemente quando tentano lafuga,
chè anzi il padrone — del quale essi costituiscono la vera tonte di
ricchezza — li tiene con cura. Esistono, del reslo, fra gli schiavi délie
società dette soddan (i « trenta » dal numéro dei membri onde erano
costituite in principio), in tutto simili aile nostre « leghe di resistenza »
e « di previdenza » fra gli opérai. Oueste Società (fondate — si noti —
per suggerimento dei padroni stessi, i (|uali han tutto l'intéresse a che lo
schiavo lavori sicuro e tranquillo) regolate da appositi statuti e mante-
nute da regolari versamenti dei soci, mentre sovvenzionano ^ i soci
ammalati o colpiti da inlbrtunio, da un lato sorvegliano a che nessuno
si sottragga indebitamente al lavoro, sotto pena di multe o di battiture,
dall'altro si impongono a quel padroni che, per caso, battano o incate-
nino gli schiavi, o rifiutino loro i due giorni di libertà. — Il corrispon-
dente conclude che se questi schiavi han (|ualche disagio — e si son
creati un argine di difesa — quelli délia costa, dellUebi Scebeli e del
Goscia, sono invece contentissimi e non rinunzierebbero alla loro posi-
zione per una libertà che, al momento, li renderebbe spostati.
1. licenziamenti. — 2. partenze. — 3. fabbricazione del cacio. — 4. aiutano, subven-
tionnent.
INDICE
PARTE ITALIANA
I. — Letteratura.
a. Prosa.
Pagine.
Una rondine, Racconto (E.
Rivalta) 7, 14
Catlinin, Racconto (B. Wick-
Allaso.x) 19
Il ladruncolo svelato, Diihyo
(Awe) 21
Il giusto e il l'also amor délie
lettere (A. Manzoni) .... 26
Briciola, Racconto (Yantyé). 30, 39
Un avaro, Scena (C. Goldoni). 38
Il regalo del Bambino. Rac-
conto (B. Wick-Allason) . . 46
Capo d'anno (E. de Amicls). . S2
Bravi figliuoli, Dlalogo (Awe). 54
Sulle scène (0. Guerrini). . 58
I tre desideri di Margherita,
Racconto {A . Brocca) . . 62,71
Un burbero benetico, Scena
(C. Goldo.m) 69
Le poésie di Enrico Panzacchi
(G. Pascoli) 7b
La composta di prugne, Dia-
logo (Awe) 79, 87
Aforismi (A. Graf) 80
II giardino (P. Mantegazza). . 83
Due missioni lemminili (Ada
Negri) 89
Corne il nonno imparô a nuo-
tare, Racconto (Marchesa Co-
LOMBI) 103, 110
Bugana ligure (F. Pastonchi). 116
Il cuscino délia contessa Con-
falonieri (P. Maroncelli). . 117
Pagine.
La stordita, Dialogo (Awe) 118, 126
La donna e i libri (A. Fogaz-
zaro) 123
La ca' dei cani, Racconto (G.
L. P.VTUzzi) 130
La mia compagna (M. Moras-
so) 134
Le idée fondamentali di Donie-
nica Papurello, Racconto (B.
Wick-Allasoin) .... 140, 146
La ricerca dell' impiego (R.
Errera) 142
Storia di Maggiolino e Tere-
sella, Racconto (E. de Mar-
CHi) 148, 136
Passo difficile (B. W.-A.). . . 130
Il foro di Pompei (A. Sogliano). 157
b. Poesia.
Alla lima (G. Leopardi). ... 13
Nebbia (G. Pascoli) 18
La casa di Nazareth (C. Nigra). 43
La veste del hilto (L. M.arenco) 56
Il grille e le fonniche (R. Pit-
teri) 61
Sonno interrotto(E. A. BuTir) 71
Rubrum in sero — La treb-
biatrice(E. Panzacchi). . . 76
Il sole (F. Soffrè) 87
La cupola (G. Orsim). 92, 101, 108
Bontà (E. de Amicis) .... 98
Siviglia (E. de Amicis) .... 99
Pasqua! (A. Manzoni). ... 110
La religione materna (G. Z.^nel-
la).^ 117
162
PARTE ITALIANA
[970]
Pagine.
Pianlo antico (G. Carducci). . 125
Pioggia (A. Brunamonti-Bonac-
ci) (32
Un morto (A. Orvieto). ... 142
Quiète meridiana (A. Fogazza-
Ro) 149
c. Traduzioni.
I ti-e canli (Uhlaisd, Versione
di G. Carducci) ...... 6
Danae e Perseo in preda aile
onde (SiMo.NiDE, Versione di
G. Mazzoni) U
II povero e il ricxo (K"' Grimm) 22,
29, 37
Ode di Orazio {Versione di G.
B. GiORGiNi) 28
Segni di un paese felice (dallo
Shi-King) 32
Sarah Bernhardt e Edison . . 4.^
L'avaro (Lessing) ">3
L'imperatore Franccsco (!iu-
seppe 61
Morte eroica (W. v. Oesté-
re.n) . . 70, 78, 8S, 94, tOi, 109
Carducci (J . Bois) 100
Gœthe (Emerson) . . 12o, 133, 141
Le betulle Inngo la strada (Re
Oscar di Svezia). . . . loi, 159
II. — Attualità.
a. Miscellanee 1, 9, 33, 50, 57, 73,
105, 113, 129, 137, 145.
b. StoricJie e poUliche.
Costantino Nigra lo
L'inaugurazione de) monu-
mento a Bottego 17
La nuova principessina c lo
Giovanne sabaude 43
Lo sconlro di Lugh 65
Attorno alla reggia insangui-
nata 81
c. Letterarie e artistiche.
Issogne 12
Parodia o contraffazione. . . 41
Pagine.
La « Nave » 65
I papiri dell'antico Egitto . . 67
Neirannivei-sario délia morte
di Carducci 92
La morte di Edmondo De Ami-
cis 97
II manoscritto délia « Nave »
donato a Veuezia 122
Memorie Carducc|ane .... 139
Corne lavorava E, De Amicis 152
La feste tassoniane di Modena
e Bologna 153
Un poema epico di G. Pascoli. 154
d. yarie.
Il piimo asilo-famigliain Italia 13
Calabria desolata 26
Dopo linondazione 35
Il commercio fra l'Italia e la
Francia 51
11 raid New-York-Parigi ... 83
Una statistica intéressante . . 152
III — Varietà.
Perché il gallo c il simi)olo
délia Francia 3
(U'italiani del mozzodi giudi-
cali dal (lœthe 4
I ligli di Carlo Alberto allô stu-
dio S
L'amore per le bestie .... 16
II « lei » e il « voi » nolla com-
media italiana 16
Qual'è il piîi bel punto d'Italia 24
Perché si adopera di più la
mano destra 56
Borna c B. BjOrson 60
Sull'alcoolismo 64
La parola " menu » in ilaliano 76
Spontini ">
L'edizione giapponesc di
« Cuorc ■> 95
Inostri emigranti giudicati da
un francese 95
La mutilazione negli animali. 96
Nel mondo doi letterati . . . lOô
Per una società di nuoto . . 108
Il maestro di pittura délia
regina Elena 112
[971]
INDICE
163
Pagine
La psicologia d'un dizionario. Ii4
Il iionno délia Duse 115
Fodeltà canina 120
La casetta del Petrarca in Arqua 121
La cucina abissina ..... 127
La virlii educalivii dell'cser-
cilo 128
Un curioso saggio di crilica
victorugliiana 131
Il chiosti'o di San Martino . . 133
Ciro Menotti 139
Le bugie infantili 14-3
Quanto costava e quanto costa
la vita 144
Memorie intorno a G. Prati . 146
Quel che costa uno sciopero. 159
La schiavitù nel Benadir . . KiO
IV
Minuzie.
Per ridere. . . . 32,40, 104, 144
Una risposta di spirito. ... 8
Accrescitivie diminutivi falsi 23
Giudici di campo 49
V. — Illustrazioni.
Pagine.
(iiovaiini Pascoli 2
Una rondine 1
Percy Shelley . 9
CatUnln 19
Fra le rovine di Ferruzzano . 25
Palazzo Stroz/.i 33
Ratt'aello. La Sacra l'amiglia. 44
Giudici di campo 49
Olindo Guerrini 59
GabrieleD'Annunzio 66
Isola di Torcello 73
.Maria Amelia di Portogallo . 81
Ada Negri e la figlia 89
E. De Amicis 97
Guglielmo II 105
Ascari délia colonia eritrea 113
Casa del Petrarca ad Arqua . 121
Chiostro di S. Martino. ... 133
Giovanni Cavalli 137
Passo difficile 150
Pompei. — Veduta del Foro 158
Itinerario délia linea Cbamo-
nix-Martigny 1
Les Cinq Langues
N» 1. 5 Octobre 1907. 8' Année.
SUPPLÉMENT
DE LA VALEUR ÉDUCATRICE DE LA LITTÉRATURE
ALLEMANDE*
Les tendances utilitaires de notre époque se sont manifestées avec énergie
dans les discussions récentes dont l'enseignement des langues modernes a été
l'objet. L'écho de ces débats est venu jusqu'à vous et personne n'ignore les
arguments très convaincants qui ont été produits. On apprend les langues
vivantes pour les parler et les écrire, pour faciliter et multiplier les relations
avec les peuples voisins, pour s'initier, par de fréquents voyages et la lecture
des journaux, à leurs institutions, leurs aspirations et leurs mœurs.
Attentive au vœu public, l'Université a apporté des réformes considérables à
ses programmes et à ses méthodes. Et déjà nous sommes en droit de nous
féliciter des progrès obtenus. Les séjours à l'étranger deviennent chaque
année plus nombreux ; la part attribuée dans nos classes aux exercices prati-
ques, c'est-à-dire à la conversation, est largement prépondérante. Et bien avant
le terme de vos études, la plupart d'entre vous, chers élèves, sont en état de
soutenir une conversation en langue étrangère.
Si heureux que nous soyons de l'essor donné à un enseignement jadis trop
négligé, nos etrorts nous paraîtraient stériles s'ils n'avaient pas une fin moins
immédiate et plus haute.
Le dirai-je ? 11 n'est pas besoin de suivre pendant de longues années les
cours d'un lycée jDour se faire comprendre dans une gare de Londres ou dans
un hôtel de Berlin, pour rédiger une lettre de commerce et lire un article de
journal. Le vocabulaire de la conversation courante et de la langue des atTaires
se compose d'un nombre limité de termes et d'expressions qui s'apprennent
mécaniquement et qu'on retient sans grand effort. On a trop dédaigné autre-
fois ces notions modestes et utiles : elles forment la base première de toute
étude approfondie. Peut-être fut-on induit par un revirement explicable à s'en
exagérer l'importance.
Pour connaître l'Allemagne, il ne suffit point de parler, fût-ce avec correc-
tion et élégance, la langue de ses habitants : il ne suffit pas d'être versé jusque
dans les plus minutieux détails de sa géographie et de son histoire et d'avoir
parcouru l'Empire en tous sens. Il est indéniable que vous vous familiarisez
ainsi avec la physionomie du pays et des gens, avec tout ce qui parle aux
sens, tout ce qui frapjje et intéresse un observateur avisé. Vous amassez une
opulente moisson de souvenirs, d'images, de faits, d'idées, et pour peu que
vous ayez confiance en votre jugement, vous pouvez proférer sur le caractère
et l'esprit allemands des appréciations nouvelles et hardies et découvrir l'Alle-
magne après tant d'autres.
Et cependant vous courez grand risque de l'ignorer profondément. Car ce
qu'il vous reste à connaître ne se devine guère dans les paysages, sur les édi-
fices, les statues et les uniformes, ne se lit pas même dans les yeux et échappe
' Discours prononcé, le 3i juillel 1907, à la distribution des prix du lycîe Voltaire,
à Paris.
[6] SUPPL. 1
SUPPLÉMENT [42'
aux enquêtes les plus subtiles des profanes : c'est l'àme allemande, telle qu'elle
vil et se reconnaît dans les œuvres des grands penseurs et des grands poètes
d'outrc-Rliin. Et si cette âme, modelée par tant d'artistes dont vous savez à
peine les noms, vous est demeurée étrangère, que de spectacles incompréhen-
sibles ont dû se dérouler devant vous, que d'événements vous seront restes
inexplicables dans l'histoire passée et la situation présente de l'Allemagne !
A ne considérer que la nécessité urgente où nous sommes d'être éclairés sur
la A'ie intellectuelle de nos voisins, l'étude de leur littérature s'imposerait à
nous sans conteste. La vie allemande, dans ce qu'elle a de plus intime, de plus
original et de plus immuable est lettre close pour qui n'a jamais lu les grands
écrivains de rÂUemagnc.
Une autre raison, plus pressante, vous oblige à entrer en commerce avec
eux : c'est la valeur éducatrice de leurs ouvrages. Aucune litléralure moderne
ne compte tant de philosophes et de pédagogues ; aucune ne s'est passionnée
avec plus d'ardeur pour tous les problèmes de l'éducation ; aucune n'a eu, au
même degré, l'ambition d'être l'éducatrice à la fois de toute une race et de
rhurnanité entière.
Si téméraire que puisse paraître cette ambition, il faut reconnaître qu'elle a
mûri, dans le domaine de lart et de la pensée, des œuvres immortelles de
beauté, de profondeur et de science.
Personne ne s'avise plus, comme il était de mode naguère, de nier le profit
que votre culture intellectuelle et morale doit tirer de l'étude d'un Herder,
d'un Lessing, d'un Gœthe, d'un Schiller, — pour ne citer que les coryphées et
les précuiseurs. Ils n'ont pas écrit uniquement pour leur temps et pour leur
pays. En revêtant d'une forme achevée des pensées hautes et vigoureuses, en
créant des figures et des types impérissables, ils ont conquis droit de cité chez
toutes les nations : les ignorer, c'est être étranger à toute une vaste région de la
pensée hiunaine ; les lire et les goûter, c'est enrichir son cœur et son esprit de
trésors incomparables, c'est, suivant l'expression consacrée, se créer vine âme
nouvelle.
Ce serait toutefois une entreprise bien aventureuse que d'aborder, sans une
préparation sagement méthodique, la lecture des grands écrivains allemands.
],Q caractère synthétique de leur langue et de leur style, la portée philoso-
phique de leurs ouvrages offrent à des intelligences novices des difficultés
insurmontables.
Mais, par une bonne fortune sans exemple, nous trouvons dans la littéra-
ture allemande elle-même le moyen de nous élever graduellement à la com-
préhension de ses chefs-d'œuvre. Je veux parler des contes populaires et des
lieds. Leur étude est aussi facile qu'elle est attrayante : elle esl l'introduction
la plus naturelle, la plus heureuse à la connaissance de l'esprit germanique et
de ses multiples créations. Qui ne se souvient de Cendrillon, du Petit Chaperon
rouge, de la Belle au bols dormant, de toutes ces figures gracieuses ou terri-
bles dont s'est égayée notre enfance ? Nous les retrouvons en Allemagne et avec
elles tout un monde de nains et de géants, de fées et de gnomes, de nixes et
de kobolds.
[A suivre.) E. -Henri Blocii.
RÉFORME DE L4 LICENCE ES LETTRES
(Mention : Langues vivantes.)
Un décret du 8 juillet 1007 apporte des modifications imporlanles aux épreu-
ves qui déterminent la collation du grade de licencié es lettres. 11 y aura désor-
mais quatre séries : i" philosophie ; 2° histoire et géographie ; 3" langues et
littératures classiques: 4° langues cl littératures étrangères vivantes.
|43l SUI'PLÉMENT
Nous donnons ci-après les dispositions lelatives à la licence es lettres avec
mention : langues et littératures étrangères vivantes.
1^:pbeuves licR.TEs. Coefficients.
1° Version latine tirée d'un ouvrage classique. — Durée : trois heures. ... i
2" Traduction et commentaire grammatical d'un ou de plusieurs passages
tirés d'un auteur de la littérature étrangère choisie par le candidat. Le
commentaire est fait dans la langue du texte à traduire. (Composition
sans dictionnaire.) — Durée: quatre heures 2
3° Thème. (Composition sans dictionnaire.) — Durée: trois heures .... 2
4" Composition française sur un texte français moderne clioisi dans les ouvra-
ges inscrits au programme. — Durée: quatre heures i
Épreuves orales.
1" Explication et commentaire littéraire et grammatical d'un texte de litté-
rature étrangère choisi dans les ouvrages inscrits au programme ... 2
(Le commentaire est fait dans la langue du texte expliqué.!
2° Interrogation sur l'histoire littéraire à propos des ouvrages inscrits au pro-
gramme I
.^" Explication d'un texte de littérature française moderne ctioisi dans les ou-
vrages inscrits au programme >
'1' Interrogation sur un des enseignements professés à l'Université, au choix
du candidat i
5° Traduction d'un texte facile écrit dans la seconde langue étrangère choisie
par le candidat i
La durée de chaque épreuve orale est d'un f[uart d'heure-
Les candidats ont un quart d'heure pour étudier chacun des textes
qu'ils auront à expliquer ou à traduire.
La liste des ouvrages iDrévus à l'article précédent est dressée, pour chaque
Faculté, par l'ensemble des professeurs, chargés de cours et maîtres de confé-
rences. Elle est approuvée par le Ministre de l'Instruction publique, après avis
du Comité consultatif de l'enseignement public (section de l'enseignement supé-
rieur).
Elle est renouvelée partiellement tous les deuv ans.
Elle est publiée au Journal officiel et insérée au Bulletin du Ministère de l'Ins-
truction publique.
Toutes les épreuves sont subies dans la même session.
Chaque épreuve écrite et orale donne lieu à une note exprimée par un chifîre
variant de o à ao.
Pour être admis à subir les épreuves orales, le candidat doit avoir obtenu pour
la version latine (séries : philosophie ; — histoire et géographie ; — langues et litté-
ratures étrangères vivantes) au moins la note 8, et pour l'ensemble des épreuves
écrites :
Philosophie 70 points.
Histoire 70 —
Langues et littératures classiques 3o —
Langues et littératures étrangères vivantes ... 60 —
En cas d'échec aux épreuves orales, le bénéfice de l'admissibilité est acquis
pour un an aux candidats, à la condition que les épreuves orales soient renou-
velées devant la même Faculté.
Les inentions attribuées aux candidats admis sont les suivantes : très bien,
bien, assez bien, passable.
Un arrêté ministériel détermine chaque année celles des Facultés des lettres
devant lesquelles peuvent être subies les épreuves correspondant à la série des
langues et littératures étrangères vivantes.
Les présentes dispositions seront mises à exécution à partir de la session de
juillet 1908.
SUPPLÉMENT [44]
NOMINATIONS UNIVERSITAIRES
LYCEES ET COLLÈGES DE LA SEINE ET
DE SEINE-ET-OISE
Allemand.
— Du 11 juillet 1907. —
Sont nommés professeurs d'allemand :
au lycée Charlemagne, M. Stecr, du lycée de Grenoble ;
au lycée Janson de-Sailly, jM. Jassemin, du lycée de Versailles :
au lycée de Versailles, M. Berthauld, du lycée de Lille; M. Bloch, du lycée
de Bordeaux;
au lycée Lakanal, M. Berthet (délégué audit lycée) ; M. Pvaphaël, du lycée
de Rouen ;
au lycée Louis-le-Grand, M. Massoil, du lycée de >îantes.
Anglais.
— Du 19, juillet 1907. —
Sont nommés professeurs d'anglais ;
au lycée Lakanal, M. Audibert, du lycée de Nice ;
au collège Rollin, M. Mathias, du lycée de Versailles.
LYCÉES DES DÉPARTEMENTS
Allemand.
— Du 11 juillet 1907. —
Sont nommés professeurs d'allemand :
au lycée de Bar-le-Duc, M. Geoffroy (chargé de cours), du lycée de Belfort:
au lycée de Belfort, !M. Resslen, du lycée de Besançon ;
au lycée de Besançon, M. Goll, du lycée de Saint-Brieuc :
au lycée de Saint-Brieuc, ^1. Schcen, du lycée de Toulouse :
au lycée de Bordeaux, M. Hesnaud, du lycée d'Angers ;
au lycée d'Angers, M. Maynard, du lycée de MontiDcllicr :
au lycée de Gaen, M. Koessler ;
au lycée de Carcassonne, M. Bonnarel ;
au lycée de Clierbourg, ^I. Trevet, du lycée du Mans;
au lycée du Mans, M. Bourgeois, du lycée de Marseille :
au lycée de Grenoble, M. Tibal, du lycée de Tourcoing ;
au lycée de Guéret, M. Sulger-Buel (délégué ;
au lycée de Lille, M. Mis ;
au lycée de Nantes, M. Rottée ;
au lycée de Reims, M. Bernard, du lycée de Brest ;
au lycée de Uouen, M. Morel, du lycée d'Evreux;
au lycée d'Évreux. M. Vermeil (délégué), du lycée de ^ ersailles :
au lycée de Vendôme, M. Blocii.
— Du 20 juillet. —
Sont nommés professeurs d'allemand :
au lycée de Rodez, M. Sarrazin (chargé de cours), du lycée d'Oran ;
au lycée d'Oran, M. Blum, du lycée de Tourcoing.
Anglais.
— Du 19 juillet 1907. —
Sont nommés jirofesseurs d'anglais :
au lycée de Beauvais, M. Axdreu (chargé de cours), du lycée d".\mions :
[45] SUPPLÉMENT
au lycée de Garcassonne, M. T\ssi\ de Vili.epion (charge de cours), du lycée
de Bastia ;
au lycée de Chartres, M. Chemin, du lycée de Cherbourg ;
au lycée de Cherbourg, M. Bourgeois :
au lycée de Lille, M. Bocave, du lycée de \alenciennes ;
au lycée de Valenciennes. M. Dems f^chargé de cours , du lycée dAurillac ;
au lycée d'Aurillac, M. Ma^wialle (chargé de cours), du lycée de Digne :
au lycée de Digne, M. Couturier (délégué, du collège de Manosque ;
au lycée de Lyon, M. Koszul ;
au lycée de Nantes, M. Saillens ;
au lycée de Nice, ^1. Lautard, du lycée de Saint-Quentin ;
au lycée de Roanne, M. Maresquelle (chargé de cours;, du lycée d'Alençon.
Italien.
— Du 13 juillet 1907. —
M. llouÈDE, agrégé d'italien, est nommé professeur d'italien au lycée d'Avignon.
INFORMATIONS
On tend, depuis quelques années, en Allemagne, à favoriser dans les diffé-
rentes écoles, l'étude de l'anglais de préférence à celle du français. Un mouve-
ment de réaction contre notre langue semble aussi se produire en Ecosse où le
Département de l'Éducation recommande l'étude de l'allemand. Le français
avait été choisi jusqu'à présent par l'immense majorité des élèves.
La méthode directe, dont l'usage exclusif vient encore d'être préconisé
par la section anglaise de la « Fédéral Conférence on Education » va être
appliquée en Angleterre, tout au moins dans quelques examens, à l'enseigne-
ment des langues anciennes. Il est question d'introduire dans certains pro-
grammes une épreuve de conversation en latin. On se demande avec curiosité
quelle prononciation seia exigée des candidats.
Une chaire de langue allemande vient d'être fondée à l'Université japonai.se
de Tokio. 11 est question de créer deux nouvelles Universités au Jai)on.
SUJETS D'EXAMENS ET CONCOURS
Écoles normales supérieures de Saint-Cloud
et de Fontenay-aux-Roses (1907).
{15 juin, de 9 h. à 1 1 h.)
Rédaction en langue étrangère.
canevas a développer en allemand
Sin Sc^uûc^ïcï itef)t jwet Schiller, bie fid^ ouf bev StroBe janfen
®r gc^t f)inau3 unb fie^t, loie fie ftc^ auf bcm33oben wàl^en gr btingt fie auleiuanbcr
unb fc^ït mit i^nen in bai îc^uljtmmer }uvii>:f.
(Sx ftagt fie ou§... bcr etite bev .vînaèen t}at eitt îc^iinpfroovt gegett ben îCateï beâ anbevn
auâgeftoBen... bet 2e^xex cvteilt ben Beiben @egneïn etne 3uïei:^ttt)etiung... unb ïiringt e»
fc^tieÈUi^ baf)in, boB fie fia) oeïfofjnen.
SUPPLÉMENT j46|
CANEVAS A DEVELOPPER EN ANGLAIS
A schoolmaster see» two of his pupils quarrelling ia the street...
lie goes ont and fuids them rolling on the ground... He séparâtes tliem, and cornes
back with them into the schoolroom.
He interrogates them. One of the children has used a word insulting to the father
of tJie other. The schoolmaster addresses reproofs to both adversaries, and at iast
conciliâtes them.
CANEVAS A DÉVELOPPER EN ESPAGNOL
Viendo un maestro de escuela ;'i dos alumnos que estân riùendo en la calle, sale y
los encuentra revolcàndose por el suelo...
Despues de separarlos, entra con ellos en la escuela: les pregunta la causa de la
pelea. . .
l'no de los chicos habia dicho una palabra injuriosa contra el padre del otro. . .
El maestro hace observaciones ;i ambos ad\ersarios y acaba por hacer las paces
entre ellos. . .
CANEVAS A DÉVELOPPER EN ITALIEN
. Un maestro elementare vede due scolari che si questionano nella strada. .
Esce e 11 trova rotolandosi a terra. Li sépara e rientra con loro nella scuola...
Li interroga. Uno dei fanciulli aveva detto un parola ingiuriosa contro il padre
dell' altro. Il maestro fa un predicozzo ai due contendenti e fînalmente li fa lornar
amici.
Baccalauréat Latin-Langues et Sciences-Langues '
(juillet 1907)
(Matières à développer. — Temps accordé: S heures.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Brief eines jungcn Franzosen an einen deutschen Freund. Er beschreibt ilim die Pro-
vinz, in der er vvohnt.
1. Ist es eine Ebene, eiiie Gebirgsgegend, ein llochland ? Wie heilien die Berge, die
Fliisse, die bedeutendsten Stiidtc?
2. Klima und landschaftliche Scliunheitcn. Sehenswùrdigkeiten.
3. Die Bevolkerung. Physischer Typus, Lebcnsart, Charakterziige. Erzahlt irgend
einen volkstûmliclien Brauch.
!i. Produkte und wirtschaftliches Leben (Ackerbau, Industrie oder Ilandel).
(Aix.)
Composition en langue anglaise ,
You hâve spent a few days in a large town in France or abroad. Before leaving, you
Write to a friend to let him know what your impressions arc. Describe :
I . Situation, size, population, climate.
3. General appearance, chief streets and buildings, parks, etc.
3. Principal trades and industries. Historical associations. (Aix.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Moslrerete Tinflusso di Roma e dell' Ilalia sopra la Francia :
1" nell' antichità ;
2" nel medio evo ;
3" nei tempi moderni.
Parlerete délia lingua, della letteratura, délie belle arti. (Aix.)
Composition en langue allemande.
EiN AcsFLUG iNs Gebirge (in Briefform) .
Ein Gymnasiast, von fnih auf an weite Auslliige gevvohnt, erziihlt in cinem Briefe an
einen seiner Freunde, seinen letzten Ausflug ins Gebirge.
* Sujets communs aux deux séries.
[47J SUPPLÉMEN'I
Am Sonntag. Abfahrt der Ausflûgler mit deii ersten Morgenzûgen. Allgemeiner Jubel :
ailes verkundete einen herrlichen Tag.
Wandern iiber Berg und Tal. durch Wiilder und Wiesen. Ankunft am Ziel, auf dem
Gipfel eines hohen Berges. (Aussicht, Mittagessen, Mittagsrast.)
Gewitter. Allgcmeine Flucht. Rûckkehr. (Ajaccio, riaatia.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
Différent w.\ts of travelling.
A) Give an idea of the différent ways of travelling «hicli exist nowadays, together
with a short description of the most modem vehicles.
B) Then give an account of one of your walks, excursions, or jonrneys which has
Xîleased you most, and under the conditions which seem to you the most agreeable.
G) Explain the reasons of your préférence. (Ajaccio, Bastia.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
Hablaréis de las relaciones literarias de Francia y de Espana : r En la Edad média ;
2^ En los tiempos modernos. {Ajaccio, Ba>itia.)
Composition en langue italienne.
L'Opificio.
.Seconde le voslre cognizioni e la vostra immaginazione descrivete un opificio. Il sito.
— La forma degli edifizii, il loro uso. — Lindustria che vi si esercita. — Gli opérai. —
Il viavai dei carri, dalle merci. ..
Chiudete con qualche considerazione intorno ail' induslria e al commercio e alla pro-
sperità che l'uno e l'altra producono, dando utile e molteplice lavoro a varie qualità di
persone. {Ajaccio, lia>itia.]
Composition en langue allemande.
AVelche Gegend und welche Stadte môchten Sie am liebsten besuchen, wenn Sie nach
Deutschland reisen ki'innten ? Aus Avelchen Griinden wûrden Sie dieselben vorziehen }
AVelches Vergni'igen und■^^elchen Vorteil crwarten Sie Aoneiner solchen Reise .•*
(Bordeaux.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
If you were able to go to England, what would you clioose to see first? For what
reasons would you prefer vi^iting sucli or such districts or towns ? In what manner
would you expect to find the journey both agreeable and profitable?
(Bordeaux.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
Si Vd. pudiera ir ;'i Espana, ^. â que parte se dirigiria .' ^ Por que razones desea Vd.
visitar tal région ô taies ciudades mus bien que otras ? i Que placer û que provecho
piensa Vd. sacar de este viaje ? (Tiordeaux )
[A suivre.)
DEVOIRS PROPOSÉS
Répondre par écrit, en allemand, aux questions suivantes :
1. Ist das Schaf ein sehr nûtzliclies Tier ?\Varum ? Versurhe ein Schaf zu beschreiben.
2. Warum wiichst die BauniAvolle nicht in unserm Land .' Wo wiichst sie ?
3 . Kennst du den Namen des Tieres, wclches uns Seide gibt ? AVas wird aus Seide
verfertigt ?
li. Womit ist das Dach deines Hauses gedeckt ? Was fur Diichcr sieht man noch ira
Dorf und in der Stadt ?
5. Wozu dient ein Treppengeliinder .'
* Les corriges seront publics dans le numéro suivant.
SUPPLÉMENT [48]
(i. Worin bcstelit die Arheilcines PlVJrtners ? Ist dièse Arbeit angenehm wahrend der
jNacht ? Warum nicht ?
7 Wie kann ein Blinder auf dcr Stralie geheii ?
(Crrtificat d'études primaires supérieures, Aspirants, Paris, •/'<■ session HJOfi.)
Répondre par écrit, en anglais, aux questions suivantes :
1 . Is the sheep a very useful animal ? Why ' Try to describe a sheep.
2. Why does not cotton grow in our counlry ? Where does it grow ?
3. Do you know the name of the animal that gives us silk ? What is made of silk ?
4 . What is the roof of your house made of ? Whatdoyoucall the other kinds of roofs ?
r>. What is tiie use of a banister ?
II. Wliat does the business of a docrkeeper consist in ? Is it a comfortable situation
at night ? Why not ?
-. How can a blind man find his way about ?
{Certificat d'études primaires supérieures. Aspirants, Paris i'*" session 1906.)
DEVOIRS CORRIGÉS
École spéciale militaire de Saint- Gyr (1907)'.
Thème allemand.
Marseille.
Unsere zweite Stadt Frankreiclis, unsere schone, sonnige, geriiusch voile Hauptstadt
des Sûdens ist viel zu bekannt, als dali ihr Name nichl sogleich die Reinheit ihres Him-
mels, die Milde ihres Klimas, den Trohsinn ihrer Einwohner und das ergutzende Schau-
bpiel in der Erinnerung wachrufe, das die Cannebière vornehmlich von elf bis zwolf
l hr darbietet. Die Lage der Stadt ist wunderschon. Im Grunde einer kleinen Bucht
crhebt sie sich stufenformig im Ilalbkreise und bildet ein ungeheures Hufeisen, dessen
holiler ïeil von dem Hafen geformtuird. Die Aerbindungswege sind zahlreich und die
Aerkelirsniitlel ermugliclien es, dal'; man sich sehr schnell und billig von einem Orte
zum andern begibt.
Die landschaftliche Lage, hat ein aller Schriftsteller gesagt, ist ebenso reizend in bezng
auf das Malerisclie \\\e vorteilhaft fiir den Handel. Ailes triigt dazu bei, dièse Stadt zu
bereichern, fur welche die Menschen viel getan, aber doch noch \iel weniger als die
Natur.
Version allemande.
Peu de temps ai^rès la mort d"un père aimé et \ encré, le jeune oiricier avait été, sur
sa demande expresse, envoyé dans un autre régiment : il avait voulu s'arracher à tous
les tristes souvenirs qui se rallaoliaient pour lui à l'image de sa ville natale, mais il n'y
a\ait pas réussi.
La grande déceplion de sa vie continuait à peser sur lui de tout son poids, car le
bonheur que la main impitoyable du destin avait brisé lui aAait été bien trop pré-
cieux pour qu'un autre eût pu le remplacer.
11 était devenu amoureux de silence et de solitude, fuyant le plus possible les phi-
sirs de la société et aimant beaucoup mieux passer ses heures de loisir dans son cabinet
de travail sur ses livres que dans le cercle joyeux de ses camarades ou dans les demeures
hospitalicrement accueillantes des familles les jilus considérées. Malgré sa vie retirée il
était universellement aimé et estimé; ses chefs appréciaient en lui un officier de valeur,
zélé dans le service et ses camarades le savaient toujours prêt à venir en aide, à rendre
un service personnel, avec plus de fidélité et de sûreté que tout autre.
' Nos lecteurs trouveront dans chaque numéro du Supplément des corrigés d"ép^eu^cs
données aux diflerents examens et concours.
I. Voir les textes dans le Supplément du 20 juillet 1907.
Ba:-le-Duc. — Imprimeiie Con.te-Jacquet, Facdouel Dii.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 2. 20 Octobre 1907. 8' Année.
SUPPLÉMENT
DE U VALEUR ÉDUCATRICE DE LA LITTÉKATURE
ALLEMANDE C/F/i).
Le conte allemand anime l'univers enlier et prête à toutes choses une voix,
des larmes et des sourires. L'homme ne nous apparaît jamais seul et délaissé.
Il vit en communion étroite avec tous les êtres, avec les plantes, avec les objets
en apparence inanimés. Toute la nature s'intéresse à lui, compatit à ses souf-
frances, partage ses joies et souvent il trouve auprès d'elle les consolations et
l'aide que ses semblables lui refusent. Les pierres et les rochers pleurent la
mort de Baldur, symbole du printemps et de la jeunesse. Au spectacle de luttes
fratricides le soleil se voile. Le cheval et lâne donnent à leurs maîtres de pré-
cieux conseils. Les oiseaux prédisent l'avenir, les plantes guérissent tous les
maux. Les kobolds, génies tutélaires du foyer, vaquent aux soins domestiques,
et s'il leur arrive de goûter à la crème ou de grignoter le lard, ils secondent
aussi de leur mieux la mère de famille, gourmandent la servante paresseuse,
dénoncent et punissent les larcins. Il n'est pas de travail qui les rebute, de
fatigue qui les lasse.
Un souffle de fraternité et de sympathie universelles traverse ces récits naïfs
où l'humanité primitive revit avec ses illusions et ses terreurs.
Bienfaisante le plus souvent, la nature se montre parfois hostile et traîtresse.
A l'orée du bois, sur les bords de l'étang mystérieux, les elfes couronnés de
nénuphars dansent au clair de lune : malheur à qui trouble leurs rondes ! Des
voix enchanteresses et fatales retentissent du haut des roches inaccessibles ou
du sein des flots glauques ; les nixes et les ondins ouvrent à l'imprudent bai-
gneur leurs palais de cristal.
L'or, source de toutes les guerres et de toutes les querelles, est funeste à qui
le recherche. « Modérez vos désirs, goûtez les joies que la vie vous dispense,
aimez la nature et obéissez à ses lois » , telle est la morale un peu rudimen-
taire des contes.
Notre La Fontaine n'en connaît point d'autre.
Mais que d'aliments votre imagination et votre sensibilité ne puisent-elles pas
dans ces récits où le réel et le merveilleux se confondent, où tout est vie, cou-
leur et mouvement I Habitués au gai soleil latin dont la lumière un peu crue
effarouche les spectres et les revenants, vous éprouvez un plaisir étrange à
errer dans le crépuscule des forêts germaniques, sous les brumes d'un ciel du
nord.
Plus tard se révélera à votre intelligence mûrie le sens caché de ces contes.
Le Petit Chaperon rouge, c'est un génie domestique et la couleur de ses vête-
ments rappelle sa parenté avec le feu, principe éternel de toute vie ; la Belle
au bois dormant, c'est le mythe de Gérés et de Proserpine, c'est la légende de
Brunehild, c'est la terre endormie sous les glaces de l'hiver attendant le prin-
temps, c'est le corps enseveli sous la terre et attendant une vie nouvelle. Les
contes populaires sont, à de rares exceptions près, une interprétation poétique
du monde, la forme première de ce panthéisme mystique et rêveur qui est la
[12] suppL. 2
10 SUPPLÉMENT [90]
philosophie des poètes et des penseurs les plus éminents de l'Allemagne.
L'étude du lied, en découvrant à vos intelligences des horizons insoupçon-
nés, complétera, chers élèves, votre apprentissage littéraire. Qu'est-ce qu'un
lied? Une femme-poète de TAutriche contemporaine a répondu avec autant
d'esprit que de sentiment : c 'est un peu d'harmonie, un peu de chant et une
âme tout entière.
On essaierait vainement de ramener le lied à l'un des genres classiques que
la tradition a consacrés. Il participe de tous, il est épique, dramatique et
lyrique tout ensemble. Ce qui le caractérise surtout, à l'origine, c'est qu'il est
une création du peuple et qu'il s'adresse au peuple. Si, au dix-huitième siècle,
la littérature savante, officielle l'a recueilli et adopté, elle ne l'a pas altéré dans
son essence. Gomme l'a dit un poète : « Tout ileurit et verdit dans les chan-
sons populaires. L'hiver et l'été,. la forêt et la prairie, les feuilles et les fleurs,
les oiseaux et les animaux des bois, l'eau et le vent, le soleil, la lune et l'étoile
du matin apparaissent tantôt comme les personnages principaux des lieds,
tantôt à l'arrière plan ou en qualité de cadre et d'ornementation. »
Le sentiment de la nature a toujours été très vif chez nos voisins ; nulle
part il ne se manifeste avec autant de sponlanéité, de sincérité et de fraîcheur
que dans la chanson populaire. Soldats, laboureurs, pâtres, pêcheurs, bûche-
rons, chasseurs et mineurs ont leurs lieds qui disent leurs peines et leurs joies
et qui retracent leur existence. Les innombrables chansons du meunier et du
voyageur sont autant d'hymnes à la nature. Elles expriment en même temps
l'inquiétude qui est au fond du cœur de l'homme, le besoin d'activité qui le
tourmente, les sentiments qui l'agitent au spectacle changeant de l'univers.
Contemporain sans doute des premières migrations des tribus germaniques,
le lied nous présente, à travers les siècles, le tableau le plus riche et le plus
fidèle de la vie intime comme aussi de l'évolution sociale et politique de la race
allemande. Il a donné naissance, aux douzième et treizième siècles, aux grandes
épopées populaires. 11 ne reste indifférent à aucun des grands mouvements de
l'histoire. Dans les temps les plus troublés, lorsque l'Allemagne est déchirée par
la guerre étrangère et les luttes intestines, la chanson populaire forme un trait
d'union entre les diverses tribus allemandes. Elle aflirme l'unité de leur ori-
gine, la communauté de leurs traditions, de leurs aspirations et de leurs ran-
cunes. Elle a fondé l'Empire d'Allemagne dans les cœurs et a plus fait pour
l'unité allemande que la diplomatie et la guerre. Le lied est encore la seule et
véritable littérature du peuple, une littérature vivante, qu'il aime, qu'il com-
prend parce qu'elle semble jaillir de son âme et qu'elle répond à tous ses
besoins.
L'esprit allemand, si complexe au premier aspect, apeu de mystères pour qui
l'a observé dans ses manifestations les plus originales et les plus spontanées :
les contes et les lieds populaires. Forts de cette initiation préalable, vous abor-
derez avec profit l'étude des chefs-d'œvivre. Vous y retrouveiez les principaux
traits qui vous avaient déjà frappés : l'amour passionné de la nature, un effort
puissant pour la comprendre et l'interpréter, le sentiment vivace de l'étroite
unité de tous les êtres et de toutes les choses, la poursuite d'un idéal moral,
artistique et politique commun à toute une l'ace, l'ignorance ou le dédain de
la forme et de la mesure.
Assurés des fruits que vous recueillerez de la fréquentation des meilleurs écri-
vains germaniques, vous n'appréhenderez pas qu'elle contrarie en vousl'éclosion
des qualités natives de l'esprit français. Notre histoire montre assez avec quelle
souplesse il s'est assimilé les éléments utiles à son développement, rejetant tout ce
qui lui était contraire. Peut-être nous reste-t-il de précieux emprunts à faire.
Vous en jugerez en connaissance de cause.
Au surplus, notre amour-propre national n'a rien à redouter d'un parallèle.
Notre influence, qui s'exerce au delà du Rhin depuis plus de cinq siècles et
qui fut si souvent prépondérante, n'est pas près de s'éteindre. Les noms de
Voltaire, de Rousseau, de Diderot dominent toute l'histoire de la plus brillante
[94J Supplément il
période des lettres allemandes ; c'est à leur école que les plus illustres fils de
l'Allemagneont appris à penser et à écrire. l:]tudierla littérature allemande, c'est
à tous égards servir et honorer notre pays.
E. -Henri Bloch.
RÉSULTATS DES CONCOURS DE 1907
Agrégations.
Sont reçus, par ordre de mérite :
Agrégés d'allemand : MM. Chabas, Lkbraly, Caiiex, Claverie, Schmitt, Lamahche
et Metzger [ex a'quo), André, Lalret, Kellersohn, Wolf, Vulliod ; — M"" Fritz,
BiGOUDOT.
Agrégés d'anglais : MM. Cuelli, Brûlé, Bazennerie, Dlbos, Darrillat ; —
jypies Daudin et Suddard {ex sequo), de Boxxefov, Brl.nel.
Agrégés d'espagnol : MM. Romeu, Juge.
Agrégés d'ilalien : MM. Ceccaldi, Billardet,
Certificats d'aptitude à renseignement des langues vivantes
dans les lycées et collèges.
Sont admis définitivement, par ordre de mérite :
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement de l'allemand : MM. Dontenville,
SCHWEITZER, MOUK et ROTH {eX œqUO), LeBETTRE, PrEUSS, DuCHATELLE, DELEVAt.LÉE,
Le.xgaigxe, Sagot, Campmas, François et Frétigny (ex œqao) ; — Au titre étran-
ger : M. Maillard (M. Maillard aurait le n° 2 dans le classement général; ; —
M"" Liaudat, NiMSGERX et Ragot {ex œqao}, Mathieu, La.ntzer.
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement de l'anglais ; MM. Dugruet , Merle,
Lanoire, Coquelix, Charxeau, Carel, Mallet, Ploxouet, Matruchot, Lelièvre,
Gallaxd, Laborde, Talbot, Gexevrier, Larsoxxeur, Lematte, Nicolas, Commandeur,
TouzÉ ; — Au titre étranger : M. Callie ; — M"" Clédat, Ledoux, Petit, Bernard,
Miquel, Dreyfus, Michel, Goissedet, Leclerc, Mauve, Réveillaud, Revmoxd,
Boulaxger, Hugon, Blazy,
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement de l'espagnol ; M"'' Auriac, M. Pmns,
M"'' DE Pondeau.
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement de l'italien : ^IM. Paolantonacci, Simdn-
giovaxxi, Lachaud.
Bourses de séjour à l'étranger.
Ont été nommés titulaires d'une bourse de séjour à l'étranger :
1° Du I" octobre 1907 au 3o septembre 1908, les personnes pourvues du
certificat d'aptitude au professorat dans les écoles normales dont les noms
suivent :
En Allemagne : MM. Charlier, Wahl ; M"« Gilsox.
En Angleterre : MM. Blaxc, Malarmey ; M"<"^ Garde, Martix.
2° Du iG septembre 1907 au i5 septembre 1908, les anciens élèves d'écoles
primaires supérieures dont les noms suivent :
En Allemagne : MM. Vigxier (ancien élève de l'école primaire supérieure de
Nemours), Schmidt (Nancy), Narjollet (Chalon-sur-Saône).
En Angleterre : MM. Gaudier (Orléans). Feller (Marseille), Becrer (ancien
élève du collège Chaptal).
En Espagne : M. Lascoux (Rodez). •
12 SUPPLÉMENT [92]
NOMINATIONS UNIVERSITAIRES
LYCÉES DES DÉPARTEMENTS
Anglais.
— Du 11 septembre 1907. —
Sont nommés professeurs d'anglais :
au lycée de Baslia, M. Chaffurin (du lycée de Lorient) ;
au lycée de Lorient, M. Yvon (du lycée de Ponlivy) ;
au lycée de Pontivy, M. Nicolas (délégué) ;
au lycée de Saint-Quentin, M. François, dit Vernols (du lycée de Nevers)
au lycée de Nevers, M. Dubos (du collège de Provins).
— Du 12 septembre. —
Sont délégués :
pour l'enseignement de l'anglais au lycée de Digne, M. Garalp ;
Ijour l'enseignement des langues vivantes au lycée de Roanne, M. Schmitt.
LYCÉES ET COLLÈGES DE JEUNES FILLES
Anglais.
— Du 17 septembre. —
Sont nommées professeurs d'anglais :
au lycée Fénelon, à Paris, M"" Rochehlave :
au lycée Racine, à Paris, M^'' Clôt ;
au lycée de A ersailles, M"^ Créances (du lycée de Alarseille) ;
au lycée de Marseille, M"» de Bonnefoy, M"" Vernet (chargée de cours) ;
au lycée de Reims, M"° Bruggemann ;
au lycée d'Auxerre, ÎNP^' Doussot (L.) (chargée de cours) ;
au lycée de Lons-Ie-Saunier, M'^" Simon (chargée de cours) ;
au lycée de Saint-Etienne, iNl"" Brunel ;
au lycée de Clermont, M"° Néel ;
au collège de Carcassonne, M''" Calmettes ;
au lycée de Rennes, M"" Daudin ;
au collège de Laon, M"° Boula y ;
au collège de Chàteauroux, M"» Arlès-Dufour ;
au lycée du Mans, M"° Hamez (chargée de cours) ;
au collège d'Avignon, M"° Danton ;
au collège de Lodève, M'^'Duproix, née Martin-Dupont ;
au collège de Chartres, M"" Thuillot ;
au lycée de Roanne, M"" Percherancier.
SUJETS D'EXAMENS ET CONCOURS
Baccalauréat Latin-Langues et Sciences-Langues *
(juillet 1907)
{Matières à développer. — Temps accordé : 3 heures.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Beschreibung eines Dorfes : \vo es liegt; — nie die Ililuser aussehen ; — die Kirche ;
die Leute und ilire lieschiiftigungen. (Clermont.)
* Sujets communs aux deux séries.
[93] SUPPLÉMENT 13
Composition en langue anglaise.
Description of a village : where it lies; — ils houses; the church; — the inhab-
itants and their occupations. (Clermont.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
Descripciôn de un pueblo. — Su situaciôn, sus casas, su iglesia. La gente y sus ocu-
paciones. {Clermont.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Descrizione d'un villaggio ; dove è situato ; le sue case e la sua chiesa ; gli abitanti e
le loro occupazioni. {Clermont.)
Composition en langue allemande.
2)ic (inncu Situte inait) f?uQO .
I. — 3tuf bem ©tranbe, eine armli(ï)e ^liitte, in ber etne junge Ji^d^erfrau tief in ber
5Zac^t bct i{)ren fc^lafenben iîinbern Oïtieitet.
2Bte fie augfie'^t? Staufeen ftûrmtf(^e§ SBetter. îlngft bev i^xan.
FI. — ^ennlj gel)t mit einer Sotetne '^inau§, um ju fe£)en, ob if)ï Wann autudîommt.
51St5ëïi(^ erblicEt fie eine ï)ûlti oerfallene ftiitte, in bev etne gifd)erh)ittte ^à^Wn îxanî
liegt. Seiinl) poà)t an bie %ux. ^eine ^Intttiort.
m. — ^ennt) ge^t t)inein. Sîie ^3îad)barin liegt tôt. Swet «inber liegen in iïjveï ÏBiege.
SaSaê foU fie tun ? ©ie '^iitlt bie .Sîinber in i'^ren ^Jîantet unb ge^t fort.
IVé — §eim!e^r bel 5if(^er§. Wie ex auêfieïit. gt ï)at nic^t§ gefangen.
V. — 3ennl} erjafjlt bon bem îobc bet 5la(^barin. "ituf t^re gtage „28a§ foE au§ ben
iîinbern werbcn ?" antwottet ber Jtfd^ec ,,5ïau, ^ole fie boc^" — ^ennl) fd^ieïit bie
SSettgorbine jur ©eite unb ^eigt bie berioaiften .Rinbeï.
(Montpellier.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
In one of Charles Dickens's books, called : Tke Postlnimous Papers of the PickivicI; Club,
there is a Christmas carol, sung by Mr. Wardle, in which the four seasons of the year
are described, the préférence being given to winter.
Describe in your turn the attractions of each of the four seasons and state which of
them you like best. Of course your taste may differ from that of Mr. Wardle, but if it
does, surely the fact finds ils explanation in your éducation and in the climatè to
which you cire accustomed . So, in giving your reasons for your choice, discuss Ihose
which could make an old English gentleman, like Mr. Wardle, sing the praise of the
colder lime in the year with cheerful conviction. (Montpellier.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
La feria en un pueiîlo.
I. — (i En que época y en que sitio se verifica la feria ?
II. — Lo que se vende en la feria : ganado, céréales, otras mercancias.
III. — La gente que concurre a la feria (ferlantes, tratantes, aldeanos y aldeanas
con sus trajes pintorescos).
IV. — Diversiones y regocijos (volatines y titiriteros, sacamuelas, caballos del Tio
Vivo, etc.). (Montpellier.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Le fanfaron mortifié.
Il célèbre avventuriere veneziano Casanova, che viveva nel Settecento racconta nei
suoi « Ricordi «, che s'imbattè, in una osteria di Parma, in un giovane ufîciale pro-
venzale che diverliva molto la brigala colle sue millanterie. Casanova lo guardava fisso
e l'uficiale, accortosene, gli domandô se lo conosceva. « E altro ! signore, rispose Casa-
nova, non si ricorda che eravamo insieme alla battaglia d'Arbella ? »
Tutti risero ma Tuficiale, senza sconcertarsi, disse che, infatti, assisteva alla battaglia
di Arbella e che poteva averci visto Casanova .
14 SUPPLÉMENT [94|
L'indomani il Provenzale, disingannato, e infiirialo venne a cliiedere una riparazione
a Casanova, il quale lo congedô facendogli una ramanzina sui pericoli deli' ignoranza
e sui meriti délia niodestia. {Montpellier.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Wallensteins Toi).
Der beriihmte Feldherr, welcher seit zehn Jahren mit so groBem Erfolg fiir den
Kaiser gefochten hatte, lieÈ sich vom Ehrgeiz verfiihren und war also im Begriff ein
Verriiter zu werden. Der Astrolog Seni versichert ihn, die Sterne seien ihni gûnstig.
(Was war damais die Astrologie ? welchen Einflufs ûble sie aus ?\
Doch kiimpft Wallenstein ziemlich lang mit sich selbst : « Ich, ein Verni 1er I usw. »
Endlich entsclilielU er sich, gegen den Kaiser die Waffen zu fùhren. Kann er nicht
hoffen, die hôchste Wiirde zu erreichen?. . .
Aber sein Heer verlal'U ihn zum grulUen Teil, sogar seine Freunde folgen ihm nicht.
« Die Sterne, sagt ihm sein Astrolog, kûndigen ein grohes Ungliick an. » Wallenstein
bleibt unbeweglich, und spricht mit sich selbst, uni sich Mut zu geben. , . Die Murder
kommen in sein Zimmer. . .; er redet sie an. . ., aber umsonst, und wird erstochen (i63/(,
in der buhmischen Stadt Egra). {Toulouse.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
Edward IIJ had laid siège to Calais for eleven months. At length, ail their food being
gone, the citizens were obliged to give in. The King made up his mind to kill ail the
people of Calais. His nobles, hovvever, cntreated him to spare them. This he promised
to do, if six of the chief men came to him with the keys of the city, and ropes about
their necks ready for instant death. Six were found brave enough to give their lives
for the rest. They stood before the King, who ordered them to be execuled ; but Queen
Philippa tlirew herself on her knees before her husband, and begged for their lives.
The King reluctantly consenled, and the Queen had Ihem fed and clothed, and sent
them home in safety. {Toulouse.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
En lodas las lenguas, pero tal vez mâs todavia en el pais de Sanclio Panza hay muchos
proverbios 6 refranes, que son, segi'in dicen, la « filosofia del pueblo». i Que quiere
decir eso? ,; En que sentido expresan los dichos refranes la expcriencia de la gente del
campo 6 de la ciudad? — Citar algunos refranes cspafioles, de los que conocéis y expli-
carlos, por ejemplo, los siguientes :
« — En boca cerrada no entran moscas. — El padre mercader, el hijo caballero, el nieto
pordiosero. — Paga loque debes, sabn'is loque liencs. —No estirar la pierna màs de lo
que alcanza la sâbana. — Quien bien te quiera te harâ llorar. — Quien tiene tejado de
vidrio no lire piedras al de su vecino, etc. » (To^douse )
DEVOIRS PROPOSES
Certificat «raptitude à l'enseignement de l'allemand.
Thème.
Sun LA LITTÉRATURE ALLEAIANDE.
Lettre à Voltaire (2'i juillet i/77.5}.
Nos Allemands ont l'ambition de jouir à leur tour des avantages des beaux-arts ; ils
s'efforcent d'égaler Athènes, Home, Florence, Paris. Quelque amour que j'aie pour ma
patrie, je ne saurais dire qu'ils réussissent jusqti'ici ; deux choses leur manquent, la
langue et le goût : la langue est trop verbeuse ; la bonne compagnie parle français, et
* Les corrigés seront publiés dans un numéro ultérieur.
[95] SUPPLÉMENT
quelques cuistres de l'école et quelques professeurs ne peuvent lui donner la politesse et
les tours aisés qu'elle ne peut acquérir que dans la société du grand monde. Ajoutez à
cela la diversité des idiomes; chaque province soutient le sien, et jusqu'à présent rien
n'est décidé sur la préférence. Pour le goût, les Allemands en manquent sur tout, ils
n'ont pas encore pu imiter les auteurs du siècle d'Auguste ; ils font un mélange vicieux
du goût romain, anglais, français et tudesque ; ils manquent encore de ce discernement
fin qui saisit les beautés où il les trouve, et sait distinguer le médiocre du parfait, le
noble du sublime, et les appliquer chacun à leurs endroits convenables. Pourvu qu'il
y ait beaucoup d'r dans les mots de leur poésie, ils croient que leurs vers sont harmo-
nieux ; et, pour l'ordinaire, ce n'est qu'un galimatias de termes ampoulés. Dans l'histoire,
ils n'omettraient pas la moindre circonstance, quand même elle serait inutile.
Leurs meilleurs ouvrages sont sur le droit usuel. Quant à la philosophie, depuis le
génie de Leibniz et la grosse monade de Wolf, personne ne s'en mêle plus. Ils croient
réussir au théâtre ; mais jusqu'ici rien de parfait n'a paru. L'Allemagne est actuellement
comme était la France du temps de François I«'". Le goût des lettres commence à se
répandre ; il faut attendre que la nature fasse naître de vrais génies, comme sous les
ministères des Richelieu et des Mazarin. Le sol qui a produit un Leibniz en peut produire
d'autres.
Frédéric II.
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement de l'anglais.
Version .
llunting the buck,
1 found him sitting by a fountain's side,
Of which he borrowed some to quench his tliirst.
And paid the nymph again as much in tears.
A garland lay him by, made by himself
Of many several flowers bred in the vale,
Stuck in that mystic order that the rareness
Delighted me : buteverwhen he turned
His tender eyes upon'em, he would weep.
As if he meant to make'em grow again.
Seeing such pretty helpless innocence
Dwell in his face, I asked him ail his story :
He told me that his parents gentle died,
Leaving him to the mercy of the flelds,
Which gave him roots ; and of the crystal springs,
Which did not stop Iheir courses ; and t)ie sun,
Which still, he thanked him, yielded him his light.
Then took he up his garland, and did show
VVhat every flower, as country people hold,
Did signify, and how ail, ordered thus,
Expressed bis grief; and, to my thoughts, did read
The prettiest lecture of his country art
That could be wished : so that methought F could
Hâve studied it. I gladly entertained
Him, who was glad to follovv; and bave got
The trustiest, loving'st, and the gentlest boy
That ever master kept.
Beaumont and Fletcher. (Philnster, I, II.
16 SUPPLÉMRNT [96]
DEVOIRS CORRIGES
Certificat d'études primaires supérieures*.
I . Ja, das Schaf ist ein sehr nûlzliches Tier. Esist ein Haustier. Es gibt uns Wolle zu
Strûmpfen, Miitzen, PautoEfeln, Kleidern und vielen gestrickten Sachen. Wenn das
Schaf geschlachtet ist, so liefertes den sclimackhaften Hammeisbraten, Talg zu Lichlern
und Seife, Leder zu Schulien und Handschuhen. Aus den Darmen junger Schafe macht
man Saiten zu Geigen und andern musikalischen Instrumenten.
Das Schaf ist ein Saugetier. Rùcken undBrust sind breit, die Beine dûnn und niager.
Die Fûfie haben vorn zwei Zehen mit Hufen. Der Kopf istklein und Ijinglich. Die Augen
sind ohne Glanz und stelien weit auseinander. Der ganze Kôrper des Schafes ist diclit
mit Wolle besetzt. Die Farbe derselben ist meist gelblich weiB ; es gibt aber auch
schwarze und gefleckte Schafe. Das Sctiaf ist ein sanfles Tier. Esist aber nichtso klug,
wie der Hund und die Ratze.
3. Die Baumwolle verlangt ein lockeres, Iciclites, mit Sand gemischtes, schon ange-
bautes Land; das Klima muli warm aber nicht zu trocken sein. Die Baumwolle wird in
der Tiirkei, in Griechenlaiid, in Siiditalien, Spanien, Egypten, Indien, China, besonders
aber in Nordamerika gewonnen .
3. Das Tier. welclies uns die Seide gibt ist die Seidenraupe. Aus Seide verfertigt man
Zw irn, Sclinûre, Biinder, Zeuge, Kleider, usw.
4. Das Dach meines Ilauses ist mit Schieferplatten (oder Dacliziegeln) bedeckt. Im
Dorf sind die Hiiuser mit IIolz, Stroli, Rohr, zuweiien auch mit Steinpappe gedeckl.
5. Ein Treppengeliinder dient dazu eine Treppe gefahrlos hinauf und hinabzusleigen;
man lehnt sich an das Treppengeliinder um nicht zu fallen.
6. Der Pfortner bat das Haus bei Tag und bei Nacht zu bewachen ; er offnet die Tiir
oder das Tor. Wiihrend der Nacht ist seine Arbeit seiir ermùdend ; er mul'i den Haus-
bevvohnern zu jeder Stunde die Tiiriiffnen.
7. Ein Blinder braucht, um auf der Stralie zu gehen, einen Hund, der ihn fiihrt
und einen Stock, auf welchen er sicli stiitzt.
{Nachdiuck verbolcn.)
1. The sheep is a very useful animal. \Ve eat its llesh ; \ve make cloth with ils wool
and leather with ils skin.
The sheep is the size of a big dog. Ils body is covered Avith a very thick fleece which
is sometimes blackish, but more generally of a grayish or yellowish colour.
2. Cotton does not grow in our country because the climate is net warm enough.
3. The animal that gives us silk is called a silkworm. The raost important articles
made of silk are : thread, silk materials, and top hais.
4. The roof of my house is made of liles. Many bouses are covered with slates, and,
in country-places, with thatch.
6. The use of a banister is to protect people going up or downstairs against a fall.
6. A doorkeeper bas to keep the house clean, answer enquiries about the différent
tenants, carry the letters up at each delivery, and open the door at any hour of the night
a tenant may happen to corne back home. This last duty must make the situation a
most uncomfor table one.
7. A blind man gropes or feels bis way about, and isconsiderably helped by the sensé
of hearing.
Voir les textes dans le n° du 5 octobre.
Bar-le-Duc. — Imprimerie Comte-Jacquet, Facdouel Dir.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 3. 5 Novembre 1907. 8« Année.
SUPPLÉMENT
PROGRAMMES DES CONCOURS DE 1908
Agrégation de l'enseignement secondaire des jeunes filles
(Ordre des lettres).
AUTEURS ALLEMANDS
Goethe. — Faust I, jusqu'à Auerbachs Keller (éd. Hendel, Halle, 5o pf.).
Voss. — Luise, Idylles I et II (éd. Hendel, Halle, .5o pf.).
Heine. — Buch derLieder: Die Nordsee, Ersler Cyklus (éd. Hendel, Halle, 5o pf.
Sudermann. — Frau Siorge (Cotta, Stuttgart, 3 m. 5o).
AUTEURS ANGLAIS
Shakespeare. — A Midsummer Nighl's Dream. {Clarendon Press, i/6.)
Milton. — Paradise Losi. Book IV. {Cambridge University Press, 2/-.)
Shelley. — Stanzas (lurilten in dejeclion, near Naples); To a Skylark ; The
Cloud ; Ilynin to Asia : The Sensilive Plant; Ode to Ihe West Wind. [Poems from
Shelley, Golden Treasury Séries, Macmillan, 26.)
Mrs. Humphry Ward. — Robert Elsmere, Book I. {Newnes' Sixpenny Novels
ou Tauchnitz.)
AUTEURS ESPAGNOLS
Tirso de Molina. — La Prudencia en la mujer (Biblioteca universal, Madrid,
édition économique, tome 28).
Ramon de Mesonero Romanos. — Escenas madrilences (Biblioteca universal,
Madrid, édition économique, tomes 5i et 52).
AUTEURS ITALIENS
Dante. — L'Enfer, chants I, 11, III.
Machiavel. — Discours sur la première décade de Tite-Live.
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement secondaire des jeunes filles
(Ordre des sciences).
AUTEURS ANGLAIS
Tennyson. — Idyls of the King (i vol. édition abrégée et annotée par
M. A. Baret. Garnier, éditeur, 6, rue des Saints-Pères. Paris).
W. Morris. — News from Nowhere (i vol., i schilling 7 pence. Longmans,
Green et C", London).
Milton. — L'Allégro II Penseroso.
AUTEURS ALLEMANDS
Gœthe. — Schiveizerreise 1797 (Cotta, Stuttgart).
Geibel. — Gedichte in Ausivahl herausgegeben von D"" M. Nietzki (Cotta,
Stuttgart).
E. von Wildenbruch. — Neid (Berlin, Grote).
[18] SU PPL. 3
18 SUPPLÉMENT [138]
AUTEURS ESPAGNOLS
Quintana. — Vidas de los Espanoles célèbres. — Et Cid.
Cervantes. — Quijole, i" parte, capitules vu, viii y ix.
Moratin. — El si de las nihas.
AUTEURS ITALIENS
Machiavel. — Storie Fiorenlinie, liv. I et 7/.
Tasse. — Jérusalem délivrée, chants Ml et VIII.
Alfieri. — Saûl.
INFORMATIONS
On sait qu'à l'Exposition universelle de 1900 un Congrès avait émis un vœu en
faveur de l'adoption d'une langue auxiliaire universelle. Un programme indi-
quant les conditions qu'une telle langue devrait remplir avait été discuté et
adopté. Au commencement de cette année, la Commission permanente instituée
à la suite de ce Congrès invita l'Association internationale des Académies à
étudier la question et à porter à l'ordre du jour de sa conférence annuelle le
choix d'un idiome universel. La réponse des Académies est maintenant connue.
La plupart ont refusé de s'occuper de la question, et la minorité ne s'est guère
montrée j^lus favorable aux vues de la Commission.
On a généralement émis l'opinion, dont le professeur Hermann Diels s'est
fait l'interprète dans la Deutsche Lileraturzeitang , que l'élude des principales
langues étrangères est et demeurera le meilleur moyen de pénétrer jusqu'au
cœur des nations avec lesquelles on veut entretenir des relations.
Un comité dont font partie MM. Jean Richepin, Maurice Barrés, Paul Des-
chanel, Abel llermant, Alfred Capus, dabriel Hanotaux et M°i« Daniel Lesueur,
vient de se former en vue de l'érection d'un monument en l'honneur du poète
Giosué Carducci sur une des places de Paris.
NOMINATIONS UNIVERSITAIRES
LYCEES DE LA SEINE
— Du 28 septembre. —
M. ViGNOLLEs, professeur d'anglais au lycée de Lyon, est nommé professeur
d'anglais (suppléant) au lycée Janson-de-Sailly.
LYCÉES DES DÉPARTEMENTS
Allemand.
— Des 6 et 10 août. —
Sont nommés professeurs d'allemand :
au lycée d'Albi, M. GiRAiiu (chargé de cours), du collège de Bagnèrcs-de-
Bigorre ;
[139] SUl'PLÉMENT 19
au lycée de Tourcoing, M. Colson (chargé de cours), du lycée de Carcassonne ;
au lycée d'Evreux, M. Guinaudeau (chargé de cours), du lycée de Digne;
au lycée du .Mans, M. Maresquelle (chargé de cours) ;
au lycée de Montpellier, M. Ray.
MM. Hanss et Bourgeois sont maintenus, le premier au lycée de Lille, le
second au lycée de Marseille.
— Du 28 août. —
Sont nommés professeuis d'allemand ;
au lycée de Brest, M. Claverie ;
au lycée de Carcassonne, M. Cahen ;
au lycée de Digne, M. Metzger ;
au lycée de Nîmes, M. Chabas ;
au lycée de Quimper, M. Kellershohn.
— Du 23 septembre. —
Sont nommés professeurs d'allemand :
au lycée d'Angoulème, M. A^'olf ;
au lycée de Grenoble, ^I. Breistroffer (chargé de cours) ;
au lycée de Roanne, M. Lebraly.
Anglais.
— Du 24 juillet. —
M. Grenier est nommé professeur chargé de cours d'anglais au lycée d'Alais
(suppléant de M. Détaille).
— Du 10 août. —
M. CHAYMOLCst délégué dans la chaire d'anglais au lycée de Montluçon.
— Du 28 septembre. —
Sont nommés professeurs d'anglais :
au lycée de Lyon, M. Vallée, du lycée de Saint-Etienne :
au lycée de Saint-Etienne, M. Bazennerie.
— Du S octobre. —
M, Merle est délégué dans la chaire d'anglais au lycée de Quimper.
COLLÈGES DE GARÇONS
— Du 5 août. —
Sont nommés professeurs de langues vivantes :
au collège d'Auxonne, M. Clausse ;
au collège de Châteaudun, M. Muffang.
— Du 20 août. —
Sont délégués pour l'enseignement de l'allemand et des lettres :
au collège d'Arnay-le-Duc, M. Loquet ;
au collège de Tonnerre, M. Dufresne.
ENSEIGNEMENT SECONDAIRE DES JEUNES FILLES
Allemand.
— Des 17 et 18 septembre. —
Sont nommées professeurs d'allemand :
au lycée de Chambéry, M''« Velluz (chargée de cours), du lycée d'Orléans;
au collège d'Avignon, M^'" Curtet (du collège de Louhans) ;
au collège de Louhans, M"° Jacquard ;
20 SUl'PLÈMENT [140]
au lycée Racine, à Paris, M"^ Weiller (du lycée de Dijon)
au lycée de Dijon, M"° Fritz (du lycée d'Auxerre) ;
au lycée d'Auxerre, ]M''= Carpeïstier (Emilie) ;
au collège d'Orléans, M"" Hutt ;
au collège de Bourges, M^'' Sizaret.
SUJETS D'EXAMENS ET CONCOURS
Section de navigation maritime
annexée à l'Ecole supérieure pratique de Commerce et cVIndustrie de Paris (19U7).
Composition en langue anglaise.
(26 septembre, de 2 h. à 4 h.)
Un de vos amis vient de partir pour un long voyage. Vous l'avez accompagné jusqu'à
la gare.
Racontez la scène dont vous avez été témoin au moment du départ de l'express-
1. à l'extérieur : omnibus, fiacres, voyageurs.
2. à l'intérieur : voyageurs prenant leurs billets, facteurs portant les bagages, etc.
3. sur le quai : voyageurs cherchant une bonne place, amis souhaitant bon voyage à
ceux qui partent. Départ du train.
Baccalauréat Latin-Langues (juillet 1907).
{Matières à développer. — Temps accordé: 3 heures.)
Composition en langue allemande.
SBeïc^e TOtttct gcbenfft bu an^utoenben, um bctne ,Rcnntniffe in ber beutfd^cn ©pvad^e,
aui^ loenn bu ba§ ©ijmnaiium bertaffen '^aben Inirft, ju ie^alten unb toomogïid) ju
ciiBEitern v
1. aSieltcic^t finb in ber ©tabt, it)o bu looîjnft, Scutfd^e anfdifig ; bu îbnnteft ettoa mit
if)nen in 33er6inbung tretcn, ©tunben auStau^c^en, rtenn mogtid) cincm ^ouucrjationêljcrctn
beitretcn.
2. a^om 2i\en îonn[t bu grofecn îluijeu jteïien, beine ©d^ufbiid^cr noc^ cinmaï buviïjlefen,
bit neue Siidjcr ûuic^affen — t)ietlei(i)t auf ciue beutîc^e 3'^itii"9 abonniercn — mit
Seutfi^eu im Sricflued^fel fteïjen.
3. S)u ttjiïft biellcicfjt eine 9ietie naâ) îeuticfjlanb untcrneï)men îonnen ; ba§ ioiivbc beinen
©tubien bte ^ronc auffcljen. (Alger.)
Composition en langue anglaise .
A French student writes to an English friend to pray him to visit France.
He makes a splendid description of liis native land, praising the large and rich cities,
Ihe fertile fields, the dark woods, the picturesque mountains, the varions shores.
(Alger.)
Composition en langus espagnole.
El LEON AGRADECIDO.
Un pobre esclavo (Androclés) fué condenado â muerte por haberse escapado de la casa
de su amo : le condujeron â una plaza cerrada y lanzaron contra él un terrible leôn.
Millares de personas presenciaban este espectâculo. Asombro gênerai al ver que la fiera
no hacia ningun mal al esclavo. — Este contô entonces lo que habia sucedido :
metido en una cueva vi6 entrar en ella al leôn dando quejidos y presentândole la
[141] SUPPLÉMENT 21
pata en la cual habia una grande espina : sacada esta, vivieron jiintos en biiena inle-
ligencia. En la ûltima caza que hubo, fueron cogidos y separados el uno del olro —
Galigula perdono al esclavo y le régal 6 el leôn. (Alger.)
Composition en langue italienne.
L'iLLUMIN.VZlONE ELETTRICA.
I» Parlate sommariamente dei modi più antichid'illuminazione.
2" La hice elettrica ; prodiizione più economica délia corrente e sua distribuzione ;
gli apparecchi di luce elettrica.
3" Vantaggi e pericoli di questo modo d"illuminazione.
(Alger.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Ein Sklave im alten Rom mit Namen Androklus, entfloh seinem Gebieter und flûchtete
in die Eimjden Afrikas. Bald fand er eine Hôhle, aber Avie erschrak er, als nach ihm
ein groËer Lowe in die Iluhle trat ! Doch dieser kam nicbt grimmig auf ihn zu, sondern
liielt ihm bittend seine ïalze hin, in die ein grofier Dorn gedrungen vvar.
Zitternd entschlol'^ sich der Sklave, den Dorn herauszuziehen
Der Lowe bezeigte ihm dafiir seine Dankbarkeit auf aile mogliche Weise. . .
Nach einer geraumen Zeit wurde der entflohene Sklave gefangen genommen und
verurteilt mit wilden Tieren zu kiimpfen.
Schon ist das Volk um den Kampfplatz (arena) versammelt
Ein wiitender Lowe stûrzt sich auf den Unglûcklichen los
Und siehe ! der Lowe naht sich schmeichelnd dem Sklaven und legt sicli endlich
ruhig zu dessen Fùfien nieder (Besançon.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
A nian had a very clever dog
The dog was in the habit of going to a baker's every morning to fetcli his breakfast.
His master used to give him a penny with which hebought a roU.
One day the baker gave him a roll which was just hot out of the oven
The dog instantly dropped the roll
Ile would never visit the shop again (Besançon.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Don quijote und die windmij'hlen.
Ein armer Edelmann, Don Quijote, lebt zurûckgezogen in einem zerfallenen Schlofj :
beschreibe dasselbc.
Ritterromane haben seine Phantasie erregt ; er will auch auf Abenteuer ausgehen.
Er rùstet sich ans ; desgleichen sein Diener Sancho. Beschreibe beide Manner und
deren Reittiere.
Er sieht in der Ferne Windmûhlen. Seine Tauschung : er glaubt, es seien Riesen.
Er stùrzl auf sie los. Der Kampf und dessen Ausgang. (Caen.^
Composition en langue anglaise.
The BLACK CAT.
A drunkard had a black cat.
One night, returning home, much intoxicated, he kills his wife with an axe, inserts
the corpse into one of the cellar walls and walls the whole up, so that no eye can
detect anything suspicious.
A few days later , policemen come and proceed to make rigorous investigation of the house.
They are preparing to départ when a voice is heard from within the wall. The po-
licemen quickly displace the bricks and discover the corpse.
The murderer had walled the cat up within the lomb. (Caen.)
22 SUPPLÉMENT [142J
Composition en langue espagnole.
Garta de un jôven francés en que describe una corrida de toros que acaba de ver en
Madrid (la plaza, la asistencia, la corrida ; impresiones del jôven francés).
(Caen.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Eln Schiff, das mit Petroleum beladen aus Amerika zuriickkehrte, geriet nachts in
Brand. Die kleinen Boote wurden sofort heruntergelassen ; die Mannscliafl warf sich
eilig darein und ruderte nach Leibeskriiften. Die See war ruhig. Plôtzlich bemerkte
man, dab ein Heizer fehlte : es war aber zu spilt, um ihn zu retten, denn die Flammen
schlugen schon in die Ilohe. In der Tat sprang bald ein Teil des Schiffes in die Luft,
wiihrend der andere niedersank. Glûcklichervveise blieb der auf dem Schiff zuriickge-
lassene Malrose uuversehrt, und es gelang ihm, sich auf einem V\ rack zu retten.
Den Vorfall erziihlt er eineni Journalisten, dem er in der Heimat begegnet.
{Dijon.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
The Choice oi-' a profession.
What calling would you like to follow in life ? State the reasons of your choice ;
explain, not only why you like that profession, but also on what grounds you prefer
it to ail others.
Write a comparison between country life and town life. State whicli you prefer and
why. (Dijon.)
Composition en langue italienne .
Dice un proverbio cinese : Terrai beata quella città, nella qualc vedrai le piètre
consumate davanti alla bottega dei fornai, e l'erba alla suU' uscio délie bettole '^osterie).
Spiegate ^1 senso di questo proverbio et fatene applicazione al proprio paese.
{Dijon.)
Composition en langue allemande
Wie ich am liebsten meine Ferien zubringen môchte (Aufenthalt auf dem Land —
an der See — im Gebirge — Ileise in's Ausland oder in Frankreich). Warum ich das
Eine oder das Andere vorziehe. {Grenoble.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
A MOONTAIN ACCIDENT.
A party of friends hâve started to climba high mountain withoutaguide. Préparations
the day before. Description of the toiirists, how Ihey look — nailed boots, knapsaks,
rope — etc. Ascent quite easy at first — glorious sight at sunrise — ail merry and in
high spirits. They reach the top : they arc good climbers.
There is anotlier peak quite near, that looks a liltle higher — one of the tourists
suggesfs that they should go there. . .
Two start, the others watcli them from a safe resting place — Suddenly... (des-
cribe the accident, the rcscue.) The return. {lîienohle.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Conversazione fra quallro Italiani.
Ciascuno vanta i pregi délia propria ragione. — Ricordi storici — Ecllezza del cielo...
Il Milanese dice. . .
Il Napoletano dice...
Il Fiorentino dice. . .
Il Romano dice.., {Grenoble.)
1431 SUPPLÉMENT 23
DEVOIRS PROPOSÉS
Brevet supérieur.
Wie verteidigen sich der Hiind, die Ratze, der Ochs, das Pferd, die Schlange, dieBiene,
wenn man sie angreift ?
Nennen Sie einige der Dinge, welche Sie in die Schule milbringen und sagen -Sie zu
was sie dienen.
Was ist eine Fabrikstadt, eine Handeisstadt, eine Hafenstadt, eine Hauptstadt ?
VVelche sind die Beschiiftigungen der Landleiite wiihrend des Herbstes ?
[Aspirants, Grenoble, -/'■e session 1907.)
Haccalauréat.
Inventar y contar una nueva é inédita aventura sucedida al ingenioso hidalgo don
Quiji.te de la Mancha y al bueno de su escudero Sancho Panza.
* Voiries corrigés dans un numéro ultérieur.
DEVOIRS CORRIGÉS
Professorat des Écoles normales (1907)*.
Rédaction en anglais.
LeTTER FROM a FARM.
High Beech Farm,
august, 1907.
My dear Cousin, I hope that you will say " betler late than never '' when you receive
this; my only excuse is that my time bas been fuUy occupied from early morning till
late in the evening. If one wanted to lie a bed, the cock and liens in the poultry-yard,
the pigs in their styes, and tlie house-dogs in their kennels would soon break one's
slumbers ; not to speak of the lowingof the cattle, llie neighing of the horses in their
stables, theshouts of the farm-hands, and the laughterof the dairy-maids. The country
air certainly improves the appetite, for I am eating enormous breakfasts after having
been out in the woois or in the harvest-fields for a couple of hours or more.
Of course the hazel-nuts are not yet ready, and the blackberries on the hedge-
rows are not half-formed. The children round about hère get many a penny for their
baskets of blackberries picked when the early sun is shining on the devv-covered
spiders' webs. I wish that theweather had been better, for thèse incessant thundcrstorms
and the lack of suEficient sun bave seriously harmed the crops and impeded the harvest
work. Much of the wheat and barley near hère lias been quite beaten down and flattened
by the rain and hail, so that the farmers hâve had to resort to the labour of the blue-
smocked country fellows wlio used to do ail this sort of work until the liand and thesickle
were superseded by the reaper and self-binder machines. Why ! even the horse-plough
Voir les textes dans le numéro du 5 juillet 1907.
24 SUPFLÉMRNT [144]
is not so very often seen nowadays and as for the teams of bullocks Ihat used to be so
familiar in Devonshire — they are as dead as the last snows. Yes ! this is an âge of science,
and agriculture must he scientific. But the old fashions were the more picturesque.
If more British farmers would do their dairy-farming and their poultry-farming in
as organised and systematic a way as one sees, say, in Belgium or Denmark, there
Avould be fewer complaints as to hard times. People used to make fun of Mr. Gladstone's
advice to farmers to try jam-making ; but only those who hâve seen can comprehend how
great is the yield of fruit fit for preserving. In spite of the lateness of the summer there
was a splendid supply of strawberries (I wish I had been hère then to pick the best and
largest in the beds) ; the plunis are better than had been expected, and the apple-trees
and pear-trees in the orchards seem to promise well. I am glad I shall hâve left before
the " hopping " season begins, for some of the hop-pickers are the roughest of the
rough, and their room is préférable to their conipany.
A portion of this farm is composed of the remains of an old manor-house, built in
Elizabethan times, I believe ; but many buildings hâve been added to it, and the barns
and out-houses are of quite récent construction. The dairy-arrangement (I incluse
milking, and butter-making) are, thanks to the requirements of hygiène and sanitation,
much stricter than they used to be, and the co«s are well looked after.
The farmer is a pleasant man (a liltle gruff at times) and knows his business, but his
daughter appears to me to be less praclical and more of Itie " fine lady " than was the
country house-wife of the " good old days ".
Well, my dear boy, I must stop, for it is market-day and we are just going to drive
to the country-town — not by pony and trap — but by motor-car !
Your affectionate Cousin.
Version anglaise.
Les Américains possèdent l'art de la conversation à un degré très remarquable ; ils
savent s'exprimer et donner un corps et une forme à leurs pensées.
De même leur connaissance de notre Europe nous fait honte. Ah ! qu'ils connaissent
bien leur Paris, leur Rome, leur Berlin !
« Votre Londres est si grand, votre pays si petit », c'est par ces mots qu'un visiteur
américain dépeignait l'Angleterre tout en buvant sa tasse de thé.
Il raconta ensuite que, débarqué à Liverpool, le voyageur était emporté en tourbillon
par le train vers la métropole. On traverse un grand nombre de lieux célèbres et de
villes importantes qui se succèdent rapidement. A la fin, on arrive dans la capitale, et
l'on trouve une cité immense, colossale, dont les différents (juartiers sont séparés par de
grandes distances que Ton ne peut parcourir qu'en voiture et toujours en voiture.
Oliver Wendell Holmes a heureusement décrit Londres en disant : c< C'est une nation
de quelque chose comme quatre millions d'habitants. »
On pourrait, peut-être, citer ici le conseil que le docteur Johnson donnait à un ami
qui visitait Londres. « Monsieur, observa-t-il, si vous voulez acquérir une idée exacte
de l'étendue de cette ville, il ne suffit pas de voir ses grandes rues et ses grandes pla-
ces ; vous devez parcourir aussi ses innombrables petites ruelles et ses cours. Son im-
mensité étonnante ne tient pas aux proportions fastueuses des édifices ; elle apparaît
dans la multiplicité des demeures humaines qui se pressent. »
A Londres, on ne trouve aucun dessein, aucun plan raisonné. Il est glorieusement
erratique, ville terrible et délicieuse, comme l'écrit quelque part Henry James.
Bar-le-Duc. — Imprimerie Comte-Jacquet, Facdouel Dir.
Les Cinq Langues
N" 4. 20 Novembre 1907. 8' Année.
SUPPLÉMENT
LES ENFANTS ARRIÉRÉS OU ANORMAUX
Il a déjà été question dans le Supplément des écoles sous bois installées
en Allemagne pendant l'été pour les enfants débiles; on a parlé aussi de
tous les efforts tentés par nos voisins pour l'instruction des enfants arriérés
ou anormaux. En France, à ce point de ^^le, nous étions en retard. Les
enfants arriérés étaient forcés de suivre les mêmes classes que les autres,
si bien qu'ils quittaient l'école complètement illettrés.
Un article intéressant de M"° L. Compain, publié par le journal La Fran-
çaise, nous apprend que la première classe pour fdlettes arriérées fonctionne
depuis Pâques à l'école de la rue de Belzunce, à Paris.
(( Devant nous, dit l'auteur de l'article, un groupe de fillettes saute à
la corde. Ce sont elles. Il n'est guère besoin de le dire. Ces têtes trop
grosses ou trop menues, ces fronts étroits, ces faces larges, nous les avons
tout de suite reconnues. Cependant ces petites dégénérées sont déjà des
dégénérées supérieures. Toutes, en effet, savaient lire. Elle ne compre-
naient point du tout, ou fort peu, ce qu'elles lisaient, mais enfin elles
avaient pu accomplir déjà ce travail d'assimiler à des sons connus des
signes abstraits.
D'ailleurs elles avaient horreur de l'école, de sa discipline, de son silence.
On a changé tout cela
Nos petites arriérées apprennent à compter, à chanter, à dessiner, la cou-
ture, l'orthographe, de l'histoire, de la géographie, mais leur effort est sol-
licité par l'attrait du jeu. Elles travaillent sans le savoir. Un exercice ne
dure jamais plus de 25 à 3o minutes et deux récréations coupent les séances
de classe. L'exercice de calcul se passe chez le boulanger ou le fruitier;
c'est à l'aide d'images qu'on raconte l'histoire de France; on apprend la
géographie en faisant des voyages; les fables se récitent dialoguées.
Mais la plus importante leçon est la leçon d'observation ou leçon de
choses. Elle peut comprendre les sujets les plus variés. Un jour, on fera
observer aux enfants la classe où elles vivent : la classe est carrée, elle
a tant de fenêtres, etc. ; ou bien on leur décrira un animal, le renard, par
exemple. Un petit résumé écrit suivra la leçon.
L'exercice le plus aimé est, paraît-il, le dessin. Tous les deux jours nos
petites filles reçoivent une feuille de papier sur lequel elles dessinent et
colorient fleurs, oiseaux, maisons de leur choix
La faculté la plus vivante de ces cerveaux arriérés est celle de toutes les
enfances : l'imagination. C'est à elle qu'il faut faire appel, même pour le
travail manuel. Lorsque je suis entrée dans leur classe, les fillettes cou-
[24] siPiL. 4
26 SUPPLÉMENT [186]
saient, suivant des lignes tracées par elles, des paillettes brillantes dont
elles assortissaient les nuances à leur goût. Cette évocation constante que
doit être la leçon demande à l'institutrice un travail d'esprit perpétuel. »
Seulement, ajoute M°" Compain, eten cela nous partageons absolument
son opinion, il faudrait pouvoir ajouter à cela le grand air, la vie à la
campagne.
On pourrait créer chez nous, comme en Allemagne, des écoles sous bois
où l'on enverrait et les enfants arriérés, et les enfants débiles; peut-être les
garderait-on ainsi de bien des misères morales et physiques.
INFORMATIONS
Nous lisons dans le Théâtre : « On est peu scrupuleux alors qu'il s'agit de
propriété littéraire, et voici un nouvel exemple de pillage avec l'opérette alle-
mande Die laslige Wiliue, dont la vogue extraordinaire, en outre-Rtiin, a attiré
l'attention des directeurs parisiens. L'un d'eux ayant eu l'idée de faire repré-
senter, cet hiver, Die luslige Wihve, « la Joyeuse Veuve », sur une scène pari-
sienne, vite on a procédé à la traduction et à l'adaptation nécessaires. Mais alors
on s'est aperçu que l'opérette en question était la pure et simple copie d'une
pièce de Henri Meilhac, intitulée : L'allaché d'ambassade ».
NOMINATIONS UNIVERSITAIRES
ENSEIGNEMENT SUPERIEUR
Université de Paris.
— Du H octobre. —
M. LicHTENBERGER (Emesl), professeur de langue et littérature allemandes,
est admis, sur sa demande et pour cause d'ancienneté d'âgeet de services, à faire
valoir ses droits à une pension de retraite, à partir du i*^'' novembre 1907.
M. LicHTENBERGER (Emest) cst nomuié professeur honoraire, à partir du i®""
noveml^re 1907.
— Du 14 octobre. —
M. ÂND LE R, docteur es lettres, est chargé d'im cours de littérature allemande,
pendant l'année scolaire 1907- 1908.
LYCÉES DES DÉPARTEMENTS
Allemand.
— Du 7 octobre. —
Sont nommés professeurs d'allemand :
au lycée d'Angoulème, M. Anglade, du lycée de Périgueux (chargé de coui's) ;
au lycée de Périgueux, M. Wolf, du lycée d'Angoulème.
[187| SUPPLÉMENT
COLLÈGES DE GARÇONS
— Des 23, 24, 23, 26 septembre, "J et 7 o(;lobre.
Sont nommés professeurs d'anglais :
à Ajaccio, M. Delaporte ;
à Ântibes, M. MomiN ;
h Provins, M. Priout;
à Valognes, M. Le Goff (lettres et
anglais) ;
à Maubeiige, M. Nicot ;
à Montbéliard, M. Tanquerey ;
à Saint-FIour, M. Jullien ;
à Mende, M. Thévenin ;
à Saintes, M. Bottk ;
à Blida, M. Carlin ;
à Bône, M. Verdier.
à Carpentras, AI. Gombaud (lettres et à Sézanne, M. Bourgougnou (lettres
anglais) ; I et anglais) .
Sont nommés professeurs d'allemand :
à Saint-Gaudens, M. Dumarchat ;
à Bagnères-de-Bigorre, M. Rigam-
BERT ;
M. Beauvhe est délégué dans les fonctions de professeur de grammaire et
espagnol au collège de Revel.
ENSEIGNEMENT SECONDAIRE DES JEUNES FILLES
— Du [[ oclobre. —
Sont nommées professeurs d'anglais :
au collège de Langres, M"'= Gagnot (lettres et anglais) ;
au lycée de Reims, M"' Bachelart (chargée de cours) ;
au lycée de Rennes, M"" Berkard (chargée de cours) :
au lycée de Rouen, M"" Mantoy (chargée de cours).
SUJETS D'EX4MENS ET CONCOURS
Baccalauréat Latin-Langues (juillet 1907).
{Matières à développer. - Tc/h/j.s accordé: 3 heures.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Der rattenfangkr vO^ hameln.
Im la. Jahrhnndert waren die Bewoliner von Hamein durch zahllose Piatten geplagt.
Es kam ein Mann, der versprach, fur ein gewisses Geld, die Stadt von dem Ungeziefer zii
befreien. Er nalim ein Pfeifchen, pfiff, undalle Ralten foigten ilim. Er fùtirle sie in die
Weser, \vo sie ertranken.
Die Bûrger wollten aber den versproclienen Lohn nicht geben. Der Raltenfiinger
zogzum zweiten Maie sein Pfeifchen bervor. Diesmal aber waren es die Kinder der
Stadt, Knaben und Miidchen, die sich um ihn versammelten iind mit ibm gehen
mufelen. Er fûhrte den SchAvarm in einen Berg, \vo ailes verschwand.
Umsonst wurden Boten berumgeschickt, um zu erfabren, ob die Kinder irgendwo
geseben worden wiiren {Lille.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
The piper of iiamelin
About fîve bundred years ago Ihe town of Hamelin in BrunsAvick was plagued with
rats. (Describe the exploits of tbe rats.) The people assemble in the Town Hall. Their
28 SUPPLÉMENT [488]
délibération. Soniebody knocks at tlie door. " Corne in ". Enters tlie Piper. (Describe
him.) He knoAvs a secret charm to rid them of the vermin. If he succeeds will tlie
Mayor give him a thousand guilders ? — " One ? flfty tliousand ! " tliey exclaim. Tlie
Piper sets to work. He pipes through ttie streets. Tlie rats follow liim unlil they corne
to the river Weser wherein they ail plunge and perish. Joy at Hamelin ! They ring
the bells,... but refuse to give the Piper the promised reward. (Make the Mayor and
the Piper speak.) The Piper méditâtes vengeance. Once more he pipes through the
streets and this lime out corne the children running and follow him to Ihe mountain
wbich opens wide and then closes upon them. Alas for Hamelin !
^ (Lille.)
Composition en largue espagnole.
Cabta de Pablo â su amigo Antonio.
Pahlo ha sido aprobado en los exâmenes del bachillerato. . . Alegria de sus padres. . .
Dentro de quince dias va â veranear (\ orillas del Océano.. . : Describe las ocupaciones
agradables de los veraneantes. . . Describe también las penosas tarcas de la gente de
mar... (Lille.)
Composition en langue italienne.
La cilla dove abila : come sia fa lia ; carallere del paese et délia popolazione; com-
mercio, induslria, arte, ^ita. Ci vorrebhe rimanere sempre, oppure preferirebbe
u n' altra icsidenza ? c la quale ? perche? (Lille )
Composition en langue allemande.
Das lied von der Glocke.
In seinem Gedichte, Das Lied von der G/ocAp. beschreibt Schiller die Art und Wcise,
wie eine Glocke gegossen wird, und zugleich die Ereignisse des Lebens, bel vvelchen
sich die Glocke horen liilM.
Versuchen Sie eine Nachbildung des Gedichtes.
Zeigen Sie den Glockengielier bei der Arbeit, wie er, in der llitze der Werkstiitte, das
llûssige Metall in die Form bringt, es dann kûhl werden liiÊt, wie er sich freut, wenn
der Gufe gelungen ist, wenn die Glocke hoch in der I.uft schwebt und einen schcinen
Ivlang von sich gibt.
Schildern Sie die Gelegenheiten, bei Avelchen die Glocke ertunt, so z. B. die Taufe,
die Hoclizeit, die Leiclienfeier, kirchliche und bûrgerliche Fcste. Sie kûndigt auch
Feuersbriinsle an.
Schiller gibt der Glocke den Namen Concordia, und wfmschl, dafi sie die Bûrger zur
Eintracht cinlade. Sie soll nicbt Krieg, sondern Fricden vcrkiinden.
(Lijon.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
The Echo.
Young Philip had never heard an écho. — One day in a ficld he cried ; « IIo ! Ho ! )>
and was surprised when a voice replied : « Ho ! Ho ! « — Supposing it was a boy like
himself, he first questioned and then insulted the imaginary lad. — His questions and
insulls were returned. — Getting angry lie hunled for the insulting boy in the
neighbouring wood and then complained to his mother. — She replied : « Ton are
alone to be blamed. If you speak genlly to the écho, it will answer back gentle words. »
(Lyon.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
Un Francés, dcspués de haber asislido en una poblacion del Mediodia (Nîmes, Mar-
seille), â ura corrida de muerte, escribe âun amigo de Madrid, aficionado â los toros,
que habia pcdido por sus impresiones.
Después de haber descrito lo que lai vez habrà podido hallar de h'icido y de noble
en el especlâculo, esplicarn porqué el quiere esperar que dicha fiesla, ya combatida
ri89] SUI'PLÉMENT 29
por muchos Espaiioles, iio tomarâ en las arenas antiqiias y modernas de Francia el
puesto que ha de ser reservado a especlâculos lan cultos como los del teatro romano de
Orange. {Lyon.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Un giovane fiorentino, mandato a Lione per imparare il commercio, scrive a un' amico
d'italia per dargli le sue impressioni délia città, nella quale tanti Fiorentini, già signori
del banco, conie i Guadagni (Gadagne) lianno lasciato ricordo dl se.
Parlera di lulio ciô che gli sarà piaciuto o dispiaciuto in quesla città : posizione geo-
grafica, carattere pittoresco, monumenti, musei, commercio e industria, indole degli
abitanti. Potrà pure dare uno schizzo brevissimo di un confronto tra Firenze e Lione.
[Lyon.]
Composition en langue allemande.
3iic ©riUc u«i6 ï»ic *itmctfc.
1. ©rjS'^ïe bie beïattnte g^ûBeï. — ©eiprad) jiuiic^en ber ©rtlle unb ber ^Imeife.
2. SBie îe'^en bte jttiet lievi^ert au» ?
3. fQùt ber Sii^ter art menid)tid)e Stgenfc^afteu gebac^t ?
4. 2Bo§ foU bie ^abel ïieineifen '■:
5. 2Bie gefSnt bit bie gatel ? (Nancy.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
The Giusshopper (cigale) akd the Ant.
Narrate the well-known fable :
i . Describe the shape and life of the two insects.
2. A dialogue between the Grasshopper and the Ant.
3. Are those insects' qualities or defects at ail like those of mankind?
4 . Insist on the moral lesson of the fable.
5. And say what you think ofit. {Ncincy.)
Composition en langue allemande.
EiNE SPAZIEnFAHRT NACH VERSAILLES.
Einige Schiiler eines pariser Lyceums fûhren einen jungen deutschen Freund nach
Versailles.
Siemachen denjungenFremden aufden Reiz derUmgebung der Grofisladtaufmerksam.
Sie fûhren ihn in den Park, ins grofîe und kleine Trianon, auf das SchloB, in
welchem sie die Bildergallerie besichtigen
Sie zeigen ihm den Saaldu Jeu de Paume, in deni die Révolution ihrenAnfangnahm. ..
Am Abend spielen im Park die Springbrunnen
Bei der Rùckfahrt besprechen die jungen Leute das Gesehene und einer von ihnen
preist das Versailles des Grofien Kônigs, ein anderer das Versailles der Révolution und
ein dritter das heutige Versailles. (Paria, i^'' Jour.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
The Commonweallh of Bées. Say \vhat you know about the différent inhabitants of a
bee-hive, Iheir organization, llieir work and Iheir life. (Paris, 1'^^' jour'.)
Composition en langue espagnole,
Una broma de mala ley.
Iba un hombre con su burropor un camino tan despacio que era cosa de morirse de
pena al ver lo desiDacito que caminaba.
Los alcanzô un bromista y dice :
— ,; Quieres que le eche al burro una palabra, y verâs como anda ?
— Echale média docena, y mi^s, si quieres.
Se acerca el bromista â la cabeza del burro, hace como que le habla al oido, pero lo
30 SUPPLÉMENT [190]
que hace es echarle un pedacito de yesca encendido dentro de una oreja, y en seguida
echa (i correr el animal como aima que lleva el diablo.
— Pues i que le lias dicho al burro que tanto corre ?
— ; Que va â ir muy barata la cebada ! [Paris, 1'^'' Joîir.)
Composition en langue italienne.
DiALOGO TR\ DUE GIOVAN'I CHE FANNO LA VILLEGGIATUR A IX SvlZZERV.
Uno vanta il piacere dell'ascensione suile vette délie Alpi ; l'allro si dimostra poco
proclive a seguirlo. II primo taccia il secondo di poco entusiasta, di pigro, magari di
pauroso, l'allro lo rimbecca con chiamarlo vanaglorioso e spropositatamente temerario.
Capita un uomo attempato che cerca di conciliare le due opposte opinion! .
(Paris, i^' Jour. )
Composition en langue allemande.
Jeainne d'arc.
Traurige Laçfp. Frankreidis in der ersten Zeit der Regierung Karls des Siebenten :
schon ist die grofiere Hiilfte des Landes von den Engliindern erobert ; Paris ist erobert.
Orléans hart bedrangt. Allgemeine Entmutigung : schon denkt der rallose Runig das
Land seiner V^iiter aïs Flûchtling zu verlassen.
Johanna's SendniKj : Ihre Visionen. Ihr Enlschluf^ dem Kiinig zu Hûlfe zu eilen und
Frankreich zu befreien. — Sie ersclieint am Hofo des kleinen Kunigs von Bourges Avie
die Feinde spottweise den unglûcklichen Karl VII nennen. — Die heldenmiitige Jung-
frau flolU den Franzosen neuen Mul ein. — Befreiung von Orléans. — Siegeszug nacli
Reims : Johanna setzt dem Kunig die Krone seiner Viiter wieder auf.
Johatinas Tod : — Ihr unglûcklicher Versuch, Paris zu erobern. — Sie gerat bel
einemAusfalle aus Compiègne in Gefangenschaft. — Auf Befehl der Engliinder vvird sie
von einem geistlichen Gericht als Hexe angeklagt. — Sie stirbt am 3o Mai i/iSi zu
Rouen auf dem Scheiterliaufen. — In Schillers Drama « Die Jungfrau Von Orléans»
stirbt bekannllich Johanna den Heldentod auf dem Schlachtfeld ; ist der dûslre ge-
schichtlichc Verlauf niclit ergreifender als die dicliterische VerkUirung ?
{Paris, 2'' jour.\
Composition en langue anglaise.
A boy writes to his father, from school, lo beg leave lo spend in England Ihe nexl
holidays. Write the lelter and give the reasons Ihat may bc adduced.
(Paris, 2^ jour.)
DEVOIRS PROPOSES
Certificat détudes primaires supérieures.
1. Utn iuie biel UÏ)ï gc'^ft bu in btc i2c()uïe iinb lt)a§ bringft bu mit '<
2. aBa§ fie'^ft bu ouf bem SBege jur Si^uïc ?
3. SffiaS ïcïnft unb tuft bu in ber ©cïjuïe? 2Bte foUft bu bii^ ba ouffiitircn ?
4. SBann ïcïjtft bu \\a^ §nuje juritiï v 2Ba§ l'agft bu beincn gltern ?
(Aspirants. Nancy, juillet 1907
* Voir les corrigés dans un n° ultérieur.
4911 SUPPLÉMENT 31
Brevet supérieur.
1° Write the foUowing passage at tlie prétérit, 3d person, singiilar : " I corne into tlie
parloiir after breakfast with my books and a slate. My mother is ready for me, so is
Mr. Murdstone sitting in liis easy cliair. 1 liand the first book to my mother. I take a
last look at the page and start ofT as qnickly as I can. I trip over a word, I redden and
stop." (/l/'fer Ch. Dickens).
•j." At what time is breakfast .' What does a French breakfast consist of ?
What does an English breakfast consist of ?
Nanie tlie other meals of the day.
3° What is the most useful animal of the farm ? and explain \Ahy you think so.
h" The oak. Where does it groAv? Its appearance. Us Aarious uses.
5° How many inches are there in nft 7 ins ? Write /176 98/1.
[Aspirants, Lille, •2" session 1907.)
DEVOIRS CORKICtÉS
Professorat des écoles normales * (191)7).
Rédaction espagnole.
Mi querido amico :
Aqui me tiene usted de vuelta de mi veraneo, de iina larga temporada pasada al aire
libre y sin estar sujeto â las rudas exigencias sociales que à los viajeros imponen las
playas de moda.
En el fondo de una alqueria vine à dar con mis huesos, y en verdad que no me pesa
pues asi he logrado saber muchas cosas que ignoraba. Pero, a fin de que se forme
exacta idea de lo que mi vida ha sido, empezaré por el principio, cosa que segûn me
parece es el camino màs corto para llegar al fin.
En la habitaciôn donde dormia, habitaciôn de encaladas paredes, todo era blanco y
todo respiraba esa sana y agradable limpieza cuyo perfume solo en los campos se
encuentra. Y al rayar el alba bajaba ;i la vasta sala, comedor y cocina todo en una
pieza, en la que pastores y labradores esperaban alegremente el desayuno.
AUi he aprendido à conocer cuales son los prados màs convenientes para obtener
mejor lèche de las cabras y de las vacas, y oyendo hablar constantemente de hoces^
guadanas, rastrillos, a-\entadoras, azadones y picos, he llegado à familiarizarme con
todos eslos utensilios de labranza y h conocer perfectamente sus usos.
Presencié las operaciones de la siega y de la trilla, y he aprendido también à conocer
que no es en las grandes y populosas ciudades, donde los hombres luchan constante y
penosamente, donde se logra mâs fi'icilmente la ansiada y tan deseada felicidad.
Y tan grande ha llegado â ser mi convencimiento, y tan dichosa se me antojaba la
tranquila calma que se retrataba en los ojos de cuantos me rodeaban, que ni siquiera
me atrevi â preguntar si alguno deseaba cambiar de vida.
Cantando se levantaban al despuntar el alba; cantando salian con la hoz terciada y
llenos de entusiasmo para la siega ; cantando trillaban ; cantando daban suelta al
ganado para llevarlo .'i pacer por montes y prados, y por la noche, después de un dia
de fatigas y de penalidades pasado al sol, volvian todos cantando.
,; Puede darse mayor felicidad ?
* Voir les textes dans le nci du 5 juillet 1907.
32 SUPFLÉMP.NT [192]
No, y en el campo, en pleno campo, lejos del riiido de las ciudades, absorviéndome,
en la contemplaciôn de las bellezas de la Naturaleza, y oyendo canciones constante-
mente, creo haber llegado al conocimiento de la verdad.
Y mis observaciones pueden reducirse â esto, una vulgaridad, pero que nunca se
repetirâ bastanle : que no es mâs dichoso el liombre que mâs posée, sino elque menos
desea.
Y aqui terminaré deseândole mucha saludy enviàndole les mâs carinosos recuerdos. .
Version espagnole.
A ces symptômes inquiétants, les derniers baigneurs de la plage grelottèrent de froid
et de tristesse, et s'enfuirent à l'intérieur sans jeter un regard en arrière. Les hôte-
liers inoccupés éteignirent alors leurs fourneaux ; ils rassemblèrent leurs casseroles
devenues inutiles, et, à la débandade, prirent, eux aussi, le chemin de leurs quartiers
d'hiver; peut-être les uns elles autres croisèrent-ils en route les habitants de la ville,
qui y rentraient, fatigués de la vie champêtre dans les villages des environs. Les éta-
blissements de bains maintenant silencieux, les élégants chalets et les hôtels, tous,
grands et petits, après avoir recueilli et entassé leurs objets mobiliers et donné un coup
de balai sur les parquets, fermèrent leurs portes et leurs fenêtres ; et lassés des hôtes
de passage, de leurs criailleries et de leur vacarme, ils se disposèrent, en de lourdes
siestes et dans une solitude semblable à celle des tombes sans le grondement con-
tinu de l'Océan furieux, a dormir le sommeil des marmottes jusqu'aux premières cha-
leurs du prochain été. Dans la ville, il se produisit alors quelque chose d'analogue à
ce qui se produit dans le sein d'une famille patriarcale le lendemain du jour où l'on
a vu partir les parents et les amis venus au village, à l'occasion de la fête patronale...
BIBLIOGRAPHIE
La librairie Théodore Thomas, de Leipzig, a publié récemment un ouvrage de
Théodore-Paul Voigt intitulé « Mein Kind « {Mon enfant), que les éducateurs, les mères et
peut-être aussi les pères de famille devraient consulter. Il serait pour eux du même
intérêt que le livre de Preyer {L'âme de renfant), ou l'œuvre encore plus connue d'Ellen
Ket {Le siècle de l'enfant).
L'auteur est un professeur expérimenté, un éducateur distingué qui a d'ailleurs
appliqué à l'éducation de ses enfants les principes qu'il soumet au public. Le sentiment
qui domine toute l'œuvre, comme celle des autres pédagogues modernes, c'est le déve-
loppement de la personnalité chez l'enfant et le respect de cette personnalité. Aussi
n'édifie-t-il pas un monument d'éducation immuable et intangible, il n'érige rien en
système; il donne simplement des conseils, des directions dont un éducateur intelli-
gent, après avoir mûrement réfléchi, saura tirer un parti différent suivant les diffé-
rents cas. Le livre est écrit dans un style simple et familier, rien de dogmatique ni
d'autoritaire, il s'adresse à tous et on peut espérer que beaucoup le liront.
Bar-le-Duc. — Imprimerie Comte-Jacquet, Facdouel Dir.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 5. 5 Décembre 1907. 8» Année.
SUPPLÉMENT
ENFANTS ET LIVRES
Il paraît qu'on ne lit plus — ceci a tué cela — la bicyclette, l'automo-
bile, le goût des exercices physiques l'ont emporté sur le livre, si bien
que les hommes ne lisent plus guère en France. Les femmes, elles, tou-
jours à ce qu'il paraît, lisent de moins en moins et se contentent de
feuilleter, histoire de se tenir au courant, quelques revues plus illustrées
qu'imprimées. Les enfants, enfin, ne lisent pas non plus parce qu'ils
n'ont pas le temps de lire, ou qu'ils n'ont rien à lire, et surtout parce
qu'ils ne voient pas lire autour d'eux. Et c'est à eux qu'on devrait don-
ner le goût de la lecture, c'est à eux qu'on devrait apprendre à bien lire. Les
Allemands, surtout les femmes allemandes, qui lisent plus que nous, l'ont
si bien compris qu'une de leurs grandes préoccupations est la question de
la « littérature enfantine ». Les pédagogues poussent un cri d'alarme
et trouvent que les écoliers ne lisent pas assez ou qu'ils lisent mal. Ils ne
savent pas lire, dit M. J. Tews dans un important article, et on apprend à
lire. Les Américains, gens pratiques, ont dans leurs écoles des bibliothè-
ques à l'usage des enfants, et dans leurs bibliothèques populaires des
salles de lecture pour les enfants. Et les enfants sa\cnt en user avec une
liberté et une indépendance... américaines.
Ils sentent fort bien que le professeur doit peu à peu disparaître pour
faire place au livre. Et chez nous, dit toujours M. Tews, les enfants ne
savent pas lire. Les parents leur mettent bien des livres entre les mains,
ils désirent les voir lire, car pendant ce temps ils ne font pas de bruit;
c'est toujours autant de gagné pour la tranquillité des parents, et puis ils
sont occupés intelligemment.
Mais tout se borne là. Les parents oublient de s'intéresser aux lectures
de leurs enfants, tandis qu'ils devraient parler en famille du livre qu'ils
leur ont mis entre les mains, et bien se convaincre que ce livre est à leur
portée.
Sinon l'enfant marche à tâtons, lit son livre au petit bonheur, parce
qu'il est amusant, ou drôle, ou triste, ou bien parce qu'un de ses camara-
des le lui a recommandé. Il se contente d'éviter le genre ennuyeux ou
celui qu'il trouve ennuyeux. C'est aux parents, aux professeurs à choisir
le livre que liront les enfants et à le leur faire aimer.
Beaucoup d'ouvrages faisant partie des bibliothèques d'enfants restent
éternellement neufs, preuve évidente qu'ils n'ont pas eu de succès auprès
du jeune public, et il s'agit souvent d'ouvrages ayant une réelle valeur. Ce
peu de succès tient à ce que les enfants ont lu seuls, et qu'il faut pour
[30] " suppL. 5
SUPPLÉMENT [234]
eux quelque chose de plus vivant que le livre. Avant de leur présenter un-
ouvrage, qu'on leur en lise quelques passages, qu'on les leur explique,
qu'on vive le livre avec eux; ils voudront ensuite le relire. Il faut savoir
" affamer l'âme de l'enfant », et en lisant avec lui des livres à sa portée,
l'amener peu à peu à passer des heures délicieuses en compagnie d'oeuvres
sérieuses et durables. E.-IÏ. B.
INFORMATIONS
Les épreuves écrites des différents concours de l'agrégation des lycées de
garçons ainsi que les épreuves écrites pour l'obtention des certificats d'aptitude
à l'enseignement des langues vivantes dans les lycées et collèges commence-
ront, en 1908, le Acndredi 3 juillet, auchef-lieu de chaque académie, ainsi qu'à
Baslia, Constanline, Oran et Tunis.
Les inscriptions des canJidats seront reçues au secrétariat de cliaque acadé-
inie jusqu'au i*^'' mai prochain.
Le nombre maximum des candidats et aspirantes à recevoir est fixé ainsi
qu'il suit :
Hommes Femmes
Agrégation d'allemand 13 2
— d'anglais. 13 4
— d'italien 2
— d'espagnol a
Certificat d'aptitude : allemand 16 4
— anglais i3 16
— italien 2
— espagnol 3
Le nombre d'agrégés ou de cerliGés étant limité par les besoins du service,
les candidats sont avisés que si, dans une année ultérieure, la nécessité ne s'im-
posait pas d'ouvrir un concours pour l'agrégation ou le certificat d'italien, d'es-
pagnol ou d'arabe, le concours n'aurait pas lieu celte même année.
N0}1INATI0NS UNIVERSITAIRES
LYCEES DES DEPARTEMENTS
— Du 24 octobre IttU'i. —
M. Marquis est nommé professeur chargé de cours d'anglais au lycée du Puy.
— Du 2S octobre. —
y\. Lauuet est nommé professeur d'allemand au lycée du Havre.
COLLÈGES DE GARÇONS
^- Du 31 octobre. —
M. Cayron est nommé professeur d'anglais au collège du Blanc.
M. JuLLiEiN cs^t nommé professeur de grammaire et anglais au collège de
Morlaix.
M. Foucni-: est chargé de l'enseignement de l'anglais au collège de Poutarlicr.
[235] SUPPLÉMENT 35
ENSEIGNEMENT SECONDAIRE DES JEUNES FILLES
— Des 24 septembre, 7, 16 et 24 octobre. —
Sont nommées professeurs d'allemand :
au collège de JMirecourt, M"° Malfoit ;
au collège d'Epinal, M"« Ballet :
au collège de Bourges, M"<= Le Tellier ;
au collège de Chàlons-sur-Marne, M"^ Goiset.
Sont nommées professeurs d'anglais :
au pensionnat colonial de jeunes filles de Fort-de-France, Mme Hav.v ;
au collège de Rochcfort-sur-Mer, M"'= Laroche (chargée de cours) ;
au lycée de Lons-le-Saunier, M"<^ Mauve (chargée de cours);
au collège de Chalon-sur-Saône, M"<= Hugon.
Sont nommées maîtresses chargées de cours d'anglais :
nu lycée de (Uermont, M"" CouÉcou ;
au collège d'Aurillac, M"'^ Dozat.
SUJETS D'EX4MElNS ET CONCOURS
Baccalauréat Latin-Lannues (juillet 1907).
{31atieres à développer. — Temps accordé : S heures.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
CaUTA DEL LICEiSCIADO FRANCISCO CASCALES « AL APOLO DE ESPA.NA LOl'Ë DE VEGA CARPIO T.
Muchos dias lia, seûor, que no tenemos en Miircia comedias ; ello debe ser porqiie
aqn'r îian dado en perseguir la representacion, predicando contra ella, como si faera
alguna secta ô gravisimo crimen.
No liallo causa urgente para el deslieno de la representacion ; antes bien muchas
en su favor.
Resultan muchos provechos y frutos de la comedia que es verdaderamente iniitaciôn
de las costunibres é imâgen de la verdad.
i Los padres de la Compania y otros religiosos no predican sermones que Ilaman de
ejemplos ? ,; Que ejemplos son estos ? Unos de hombres viciosos ; otros de hombres
virtuosos. c Que otra cosa hacen los poêlas con sus imilaciones de buenos y malos ?
No solo la comedia ensena, pero tambien deleita.
Vmd, se sirva decirme lo que siente, porque siendo Vmd. el que màs ha ilustrado
la poélica cômica en Espafia, nadle como Vmd. podrâ ser el verdadero censor.
(Paris, '2" jour.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Un alunno di liceo racconta ad un fcatellino ammalato, per farlo stare tranquillo
nel lelto, una novella desunta dalle sne lettare fanciullesche (Fiabe del La Fontaine o
del Florian, Mille e una Notte, ecc.) o dalla propria immaginazione.
Nel racconlo del fratello maggiore s'interporranno le ingenne questioni del minore.
(Paris, 2^ jour.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Theina. — Bel einer Preisverteilung hait eln franzôsischer Gymnasiast einer deut-
schen Silte gemiift die ùbliche fcierliche Rede.
36 SUPPLÉMENT [236]
Stoff. — Ira Namen der ausscheidenden Oberprimaner riclitet er einen letzten
Gru6 an die Lehrer iind an die jûngeren Mitscluiler ; driickt den ersteren seine und
seiner Kameraden Dankbarkeit ans und erteilt den leizleren einige wohlgcmeinten
RatschUlge. Eingedenk der empfangenen guten Lehren \ersprechen die Abiturienten
fiirderhin fiir Vatertand und Menschheit leben und wirken zu «ollen .
(Poitiers.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
A young American, after visiting Paris, writes to a young Englishman, who bas
alrcady seen it, liis impressions of the place. He admires it greatly, Ihough it is qiiile
small compared to New- York and LonJon. Of ail its monuments, the one he prefersis
tlie Eiffel Tower, which he admires as a spécimen of modem audacity. His young
friend answers that he agrées with him as to the charm of Paris, but he greatly prefers
other monuments, more a^ti^tic or enriched with numerous historical associations.
Write one of thèse ietters, or both. [Poitiers.)
Composition en langue anglaise
(pour un candidat ii deux séries).
Charlemagne, being désirons of promoling justice in his realms and wanting to
judge everything by himself, had a bell set at one of his palace doors, so that every
man who thought himself injured or wronged in any way could come and ring the
bell, at any time of the day or night, to set his grievances before the monarch. The
bell was rung one night, and a poor old horse was found at the door, grazing the moss
that grew against the wall. The poor décrépit animal, being novv useless, had been
turned out by his master. Charlemagne sent for the latter, severely reproached him
with his cruelty and obliged him to take it back. [Poitiers )
Composition en langue espagnole.
Caria de un joven castellano, que ha pasado un mes en Francia, dirigida à un amigo
en Espana :
A. Poblaciones que conoce, particiilarmenle la en que eslà ahora ; familia 6 liceo en
donde vive.
B. Diferencia entre Francia y Espana por lo que toca à las casas, ;i la coniida, â les
uniformes, y. s. a.
C. Lo que conoce de Francia ya, y lo que piensa de ella.
D. Sus adelanlos en la lengua francesa, y su vuella prôxima.
(Poitiers .)
Composition en langue italienne.
U.NA GIORNATA IN CAMPAGNA (LeTTERA AD UN AMICO).
La partenza in ferrovia. — All'arrivo, si prende una veltura. — La colazione cam-
peslre. — La passeggiata per i campi boschi. — Il rilorno a sera.
(Poitiers.)
Composition en langue vivante.
Comment on voyageait il y a cent ans et comment on voyage maintenant sur terre et
sur mer. Les avantages et les désavantages des anciens et des nouveaux modes de voyage.
(Rennes.)
237] SUPPLÉMENT 37
DEVOIRS PROPOSES
Brevet supérieur.
i» Was fur Handwerker findet man in einem Dorf ? Was ist die Arbeit eines jeden ?
2° Warum istder Frùhling eine angenehme Jahreszeit ?
3" Was fiir Gemûse und Obst haben wir im Sommer ?
4° Nennt sechs Blumen, die man im Sommer in einem Garlen findet.
5° Was verkauft ein Juvvelier ?
6» Was fur ofTentliche Gebiiude findet man in einem Dorf?
{Aspirantes, Caen, i'"'= session 1907.)
Quali sono le stagioni dell'anno ?
Dite, indue parole, ciô che caratterizza ogni stagione.
Quali sono le principali météore ?
Spiegate come avviene che Tacqua cambia di stato.
Che cosa fanno i suoi figliuoli nei giorni di vacanza ?
{Aspirantes, Chambéry, i''® session 1907.)
DEVOIRS CORRIGÉS
Professorat des Écoles normales* (1907).
Rédaction allemande.
Voir dans la Partie allemande les articles : Sauetnfjof, bie @ïnte, Sïej(^en ber JïU'^t.
Version allemande.
Adieux d'Hector.
Devant la porte, Andromaque vint déjà à sa rencontre. Pleine d'amour et de mélan-
colie, elle lui sourit. EWe était suivie d'une servante qui tenait dans ses bras son petit
garçon Aslyanax. Le père regarda avec joie le bel enfant, mais Andromaque se serrant
contre le héros, inclina la tète sur son épaule et dit avec tristesse : « Cruel mari,
prends garde, ta témérité causera un jour ta mort. Tu ne penses ni à ton petit enfant,
ni à ta malheureuse femme. Hélas, ma mère est morte jeune encore et Achille a tué
mon père et mes sept frères. Si tu m'étais ravi, je resterais toute seule, la plus aban-
donnée de toutes les femmes. 0 cher mari, demeure aujourd'hui, aujourd'hui seulement
loin de la bataille sanglante ! <>
Avec tendresse, Hector pressa plus étroitement contre lui sa femme anxieuse et dit
d'un ton pénétré : « Amie, crois-moi, ce n'est pas un criminel orgueil qui m'entraîne
•dans la lutte meurtrière, mais qui défendrait la patrie, si je ne marchais pas le premier
au combat ? »
Gotthold Klee.
Rédaction italienne.
SvOLGIME.NTO.
Carissimo Ilario
Ecco di nuovo l'autunno colle sue giornate che si accorciano, colle sue nebbie mattu-
tine, col suo vélo di malinconia, nunzio del prossimo inverno.
Voir les textes dans le numéro du 5 juillet 1907.
38 SUPPLÉMENT [238]
Non ti so dire percliè, ma a me questa stagione dà sempre un po" di tristezza : vuol
dire la fine delle belle giornate di sole, di tutto quel verdeggiare e quel fiorire clie,
durante la primavera e l'estate, riempiono l'animo di gaiezza, ed è anche la fine —
dicianiolo piano che i nostri professori non ci odano — delle care vacanze.,
Non già ch'io non ami la scuola, e tu lo sai, amico carissimo mio. ma quei tre mesi
di libertà, di vita varia, dove aile belle passeggiate si alterna la lettura dei libri predilelti,
sono pure una gran bella cosa, specie se occorra di trascorrerli almeno in parte lontano
dalla città, in qualclie ameno paesello, fra il verde e la libertà dei campi.
Tu, partendo.mi dicesti che avresti trascorso un mese colla tua famiglia a Macugoaga,
a i piedi dei colosso nevoso il M. Rosa. Clii sa che meraviglie avrai dunc^ue a narrarmi
di quel paese che dicono fra i più belli e iniponenti delle nostre Alpi,
Più modesto di te, ho trascorso il mio mesetto di campagna nella piccola villa délia
nonna, sulla coUina délia nostra Torino; ma ti so dire che quella trentina di giorni
me la son proprio goduta e che ne conservo un ricordo dolcissimo.
Figurati una villetta tulta bianca, a mezza costa di una collinetta coltivata a vigneti ;
poco discosto dalla casa padronale, la casa colonica cogli annessi : la stalla, la teltoia,
colle macchine agricole e gli strumenti dei lavoro, il fienile, il pagliaio ecce. — Un
ambiente proprio agreste ; e infatti la vita clie vi si condnce è la vita campagnuola
ia tutta la sua poesia semplice e sana.
Ci si alza naturalmente di buon mattino : a quell'ora l'aria è limpida e fresca, i vigneti
e i boschi circostanti sembrano come lavati in un'onda di purezza e il loro verde
brilla, montre in loiitananza le Alpi, colle cime nevose, splendono nel cielo
azzurro. —
Subito incominciano le faccende. La nonna, che è un' anzilla vecchietta, scende a
sorvegliare le serve che giungono coi secchi colmi dei bianco latte appena munto, di
cui una parle si vende, e una parte si lavora per farne burro e cacio; indi iragazzi con-
ducono i buoi e le vacche al pascolo, mentre gli adulti son partit! già pei lor vari
lavori.
Nel mese che trascorsi a I»*** vi fu la falciatura delle messi. Volli anch'io, per un'
intera giornata, dividere le faliche dei contadini ; mi alzai dunque com' essi all'alba, e
parti! muuito délia mia brava falce messoria. Ch'io abbia fatto di molto lavoro non
potroi dire in'coscienza, ma ho godulo, le l'accerto, di quelia giornata intera passata
fra i campi in mezzo a quei forti lavoratori, e mentre le spighe d'oro cadevano recise, e
si formavano i covoni e si accalaslavano le biche sotto la sferza dei sollione, ho sentito
la grande e forte poesia délia natura e délia vita dei contadino. Più tardi si ebbe la
faicialura dei fieno : lavoro cos'i gravoso che le donne non vi iiartecipano, e stavolla
dovetti contcntarmi di assistere anch'io come spettatore, chè il maneggio délia pesante
falce non è cosa che s'improwisi ; esige anzi lavoro e lungo esercizio.
Pochi giorni dopo giunse aile cascina la trebbiatrice dei grano.
È giorno quello di grande animazione per la letiuta : la macchina fin dall'alba lancia
il suo sibilo e sbuffa : suU'alto della Irebbialrice uomini e donne sciolgono i covoni che
gettano nella bocca spalancata ad accoglierli, mentre in basso altri uomini porgono loro
i covoni sulla punta dei tridenti, e altri trasportano i sacchi via via che son pieni di
grano o dispongono la paglia che la trcbbiatrice rigetta separatamcnte. Anche i bimbi
aiutano come possono, e i fuochisLi, tutti neri di carbone, mettono la loro macchia
scura fra i gai colori degli abili campagnuoli. La sera, poi, tutti che han partecipato
alla Irebbiatura cenano assicme altorno a un gran tavolo, e la più schielta allegria
régna fra quella gente cui riposa la coscienza della giornata laboriosa.
Mentre i contadini cenavano, la mia cara nonnina mi parlava dei tempo, orma
lontano, quando la trebbiatrice non era inventala ancora, e ogni contadino lidlteva il
suo grano (allora si diceva cos'i) pazientemente, a forza di buoi e di braccia, e lo
sceverava poi dalla veccia getlandolo in aria, e il lavoro che ora la macchina compie in
poche ore, 0ccupa^a intere sellimane della vita dei contadino.
Finite queste iniportanti operazioni l'atlenzione dei contadini si volse tutta alla vite,
che rappresenta il raccolto più importante di quelle regioni Ogni giorno io vedevo par-
tire gli uomini coi secchielli per inzolfare le viti o cogli spruzzatoi per bagnarle di sol-
fato di rame — allro lavoro nuovo che ai bei tempi della non si conosceva, non essendo
[239] SUPPLÉMENT 39
allora comparsi ancora i flag-elli JoIIa crittogama e délia peronospera clie ormai deso-
lano le nostre più floride regioni vitifere.
Intanto sulle plante maturavano i fichi, le susine, le père ; negli orti il pomodoro
mctteva il suo rosso ardente fra il verde délie foglie ; mentre gii uomini erano occupât!
nei vigneti, le donne coglievano le frulta, le disponevano nei cesti che recavano al mer-
calo délia vicina citlà ; in casa si lavorava alacrcmente a preparar marmellate e conserve
per l'inverno. lo vcdevo con trislezza avvicinarsi la fine del mio soggiorno in campagna;
guardando quel hinghi filari di vite pensavo con rinipianto al gaio momento délia
vendemniia, quando tutti i colli eclieggiano di canti, e i carri riversano nelle cantine
tulta la riccliezza dei colli ubcrtosi.
Partit il i° di settembre, e ti confesse che giungendo a Torino, la città, nonoslanle i
siioi palazzi, le sue larglie strade, il suo trafflco, il suo movimento, mi parve meschina
e povera di fronte ai Jarglii orizzonti délia campagna, e la vita cittadina monotona e
uggiosa paragonata al libero lavoro del contadino cosi nobile, cosi multiforme e vario !
A qucsto punto mi per di vcdere il luo sorriso e di senlirti dire che son diventato ben
pastorale. Finisco dunque per non buscarmi una canzonatura. Virgilio del reslo
m'attende colle sue Georqiche e nei sonanti esametri potrô ritrovare tulta l'alta poesia
che io ho intuito nella vita campestre, ma che non sodire.
Buoni studi, amico mio, e ricordati che aspetto la tua lettera con le descrizioni c il
racconto délie tue passeggiate, escursioni, scalale di cime nevose, ecc. E guai a te se
non mi farai strabiliare. Ti abbraccia raffmo amico.
SlLTIO .
Torino, i° ottobre 1907.
Version italienne.
Fejimes changées en hommes.
On dit communément en Angleterre que le Parlement peut tout, excepté changer le
sexe des sujets de Sa Majesté Britannique. Un semblable prodige a pourtant été accom-
pli en Italie, et pour préciser, dans la région vénitienne, non pas en v«rtu d'une loi,
mais par là force de l'habitude. Mais que tous les habitants de ces provinces se rassu-
rent, il ne s'agit pas d'une brusqne révolution physiologique, qui aurait trouble la
structure et la disposition de leur organisme, de sorte que — pour ne rien dire des
aulres conséquences — le droit élecloral, tant convoité, soit transféré, par loi de
nature, des Boitoli aux Meneglie', et inversement que les soins du ménage passent des
Meneghe aux Bovloli. Non ; il s'agit simplement d'un, outrage infligé par l'usage aux
vieux noms de ces beaux fleuves, qui, descendus de nos Alpes, forment avec leurs
vallées une des plus vastes et des plus fertiles plaines d'Italie. Oui, un outrage, ni
plus ni moins, dont se plaignent avec grande raison les aimables nymphes qui régnent
snr les sources de nos cours d'eau.
Car,, sans rappeler les petits fleuves de moindre importance, « la Livenza », « la;
Piave », « la Brenla » sont devenues depuis quelque temps « le Livenza », « le Piave »,
« le Brenta ». — Gardez-vous bien dans ces pays de dire par exemple: « Piazzola sur
la Brenlâ ! » Le maire de cette florissante commune froncerait les sourcils. N'y a-t-il
pas quatrc-vingt-diK ans au moins que les autorilcs impériales et royales d'abord, et à
leur suite celles du royaume d'Italie, y compris peut-être le directeur des études-, ont
décrété que « la Brenta » est u le Brenta » et qu'il n'y a rien à répliquer? Si vous
demandez à unhommedu peuple on bien à un villageois quelconque de ces pays le nom
d'un de leurs fleuves, vous l'entendrez vous répondre : la Brenla, ou la Piave, Monsieur.
Si, au contraire, vous vous entretenez avec les gens qui devraient mieu.x parler,
vous n'en trouverez presque pas un qui devine juste et se serve de l'article féminin.
1. Bortolo, nom d'homme, Menegn, nom de femme très répandus dans la Vénétie.
(.\o(e du Traducteur.)
2. En Italie il y a pour chaque province (département) un Provvedilore agli Sludiqni
dirige et surveille tout ce qui regarde l'instruction publique primaire et secondaire.
['Sole du Traducleur.)
40 SUPHLÉMRNT [240]
C'est là un des cas fréquents où le parler populaire en remontre à la langue des éru-
dits. même hors de la Toscane. A moins que — comme cela est déjà arrivé — le maître
d'école et certains petits ouvrages scolaires dûment approuvés et couronnés, ne finis-
sent par obliger le peuple lui-même à commettre des fautes.
LIVRES D'AUTOMNE
Parmi les livres qui ont paru en Angleterre dans cette « autumn season » on donnera
le premier rang aux Lettres de la Reine Victoria, publiées avec l'autorisation du Roi, et
classées par A. G. Bensov — le littérateur bien connu, l'un des fils du défunt archevêque
Benson — et par le Vicomte Esheh. Ou les a choisies dans les cinq ou six cents volumes
de la correspondance de la grande Reine, depuis son avènement en 1887 jusqu'à la
mort du Prince Gonsort en 18G1. On y trouve de nombreux renseignements sur la
haute politique, et on y lit des anecdotes et des détails intéressants sur des Français
célèbres, entre autres sur Guizot, Louis-Philippe, Napoléon III. Le livre est orné de
portraits et de gravures.
De ce côte-ci de la Manche, on se passionne toujours pour les choses de France ; on a
écrit plusieurs études sur Napoléon I'''' (Napoléon and the Invasion of England, Fall of
Napoléon, Napoléon at Boulogne). La traduction des Derniers jours de Marie-Antoinelle,
par M. Lenothe, a un intérêt pathétique; le deuxième tome des Mémoires de la Com-
tesse de Boigne nous attire également, et ceux de Sarah Bernuarut ont beaucoup de
lecteurs.
Les lettres de Dean Hole, amateur de roses et de bons mots, sont moins attrayantes
que ses Mémoiie:>, publiés il y a quelques années; et les Réminiscences de Walter Grane,
artiste et graveur, n'ont pas grande valeur. On ne trouve pas grand'chose de neuf dans
la vie de Georges III {Tarmer George), compilée par Lewis Melville, auteur d'une assez
médiocre biographie de Thackeray. Miss Béatrice Grimshaw a publié une nouvelle
relation de ses voyages dans le Pacifique.
Major Arthur Griffitiis, ancien inspecteur des prisons et romancier habile, a écrit
un bel ouvrage sur les Clubs et les Clubmen de Londres. Vraiment curieux doivent être
les Souvenirs du Duc d'Argyll (autrefois le Marquis de Lorne), mari de la sœur du Roi
(la Princesse Louise), qui est homme d'affaires et homme de lettres. Lady Dorolhy
Neville, la charmante grande dame, nous olTre de nouveaux feuillets tirés de ses
cahiers d'autrefois [Leaves from lier Note-books).
Les romanciers ne nous ont donné aucun ouvrage bien remarquable Sir Gilbert
Parker, dans The Weavers (Les Tisserands), esquisse la carrière du Général Gordon;
Ifer Convict [Son Forçat), de Miss Braddon, augmente seulement d'une unité la très
longue liste de ses productions. Rider Haggard, dans sa Fair Margaret, nous conte une
foule d'aventures. Dans un volume de petits contes, Anthony Hope ne fait que répéter
son Prisoner of Zenda et ses Dollg Dialogues; et Maarten Maartens, dans The Uealers,
attaque vivement les médecins et les spécialistes.
Les New Poenis de Stephen Phillips ne sont pas tous inédits, l.e style en est souvent
beau, mais les mêmes sujets ont été traités par des poètes mieux inspirés, et la pensée
n'est pas toujours originale. En deux mots, les romanciers et les poètes vraiment grands
sont allés — comme les géants — au pays des neiges d'antan.
Nous avons donné, dans Les Cinq Langues, et nous donnerons encore quelques extraits
empruntés aux livres de cette « saison d'automne ».
E. P, Jacobsen.
Londres, le 9 novembre 1907.
Bar-le-Duc. — Imprimerie Comte-Jacquet, Facdouel, Dir.
Les Cinq Langues
N« 6. 20 Décembre 1907. 8* Année.
SUPPLÉMENT
COUPE ET TRAVAUX A L'AIGUILLE
On vient de réformer en Allemagne l'enseignement des travaux féminins
«n même temps que les examens des professeurs chargées de cet enseignement.
Je suis assez hérétique, dit Martha Langer, dans un article du Berliner
Tageblalt, pour désirer qu'on ne cloue pas la maîtresse de coupe sur une
méthode. 11 faut qu'elle apprenne la coupe d'après le modèle vivant, qu'elle
étudie sa conformation, sa façon de se tenir. Savoir couper d'après le modèle
vivant et sur ce modèle devra être désormais la pierre fondamentale de l'en-
seignement de la coupe. Cet enseignement, ainsi compris, ne sera donné que
dans les classes supérieures ou même dans les cours d'adultes, parce qu'il
exige de l'intelligence et du goût. Mais dès les petites classes on y préparera les
élèves en cultivant leur goût. C'est assez facile. Les femmes, à peu d'excep-
tions près, ont un amour inné de la parure ; c'est ce qui porte les femmes
du peuple à dépenser pour des dentelles grossières ou des rubans criards
un argent péniblement gagné. La maîtresse habituera les petites fdles à aimer
les choses simples et les détournera des dentelles qu'on vend au kilomètre
et des colilicliets fabriqués à la grosse. Les petits doigts feront des objets de
lingerie finement cousus et peu garnis, des broderies au dessin délicat et
simple, dos jours comme ceux que faisaient nos aïeules, avant d'apprendre à
couper un corsage ou une jupe d'après la conformation spéciale de la personne
qui doit les porter, et non suivant une méthode omnibus.
Cette méthode de coupe d'après le moulage sur la personne est employée en
France par les bonnes couturières, mais elle n'a eu jusqu'ici que peu de place
dans l'enseignement ofliciel. Là triomphait la méthode géométrique. Sur du
papier à petits carreaux, on traçait soigneusement de grands rectangles, des
rectangles plus petits, des perpendiculaires, des courbes, des obliques — il en
fallait beaucoup pour un corsage ! Ledit corsage, une fois terminé, allait
fort bien à limpeccable mannequin de la classe de couture, rarement à la jeune
fille qui devait le porter. Et le corsage était tout simplement un corsage idéal
d'exposition d'ouvrages. C'est pourquoi il serait désirable aussi de remplacer
dans notre enseignement la coupe soi-disant géométrique par le moulage.
Un excellent livre de Madame Berge, qui vient de paraître à la librairie Vui-
bert et Nony, sera pour les pi'ofesseurs et pour les élèves un guide autorisé.
Les explications y sont d'une simplicité et d'une clarté merveilleuses. En les
suivant pas à pas et en examinant avec attention les figures, on arrivera
facilement à habiller d'une façon élégante, non pas l'indulgent et traditionnel
mannequin, mais une femme ou une jeune fille coquette.
Nous recommandons ce livre à toutes les élèves des lycées, des écoles nor-
males, ainsi qu'aux jeunes filles qui veulent s'habiller sans se ruiner, en atten-
dant qu'une plume plus autorisée en fasse un examen plus complet.
P . . .
[39] suprL. 6
r.°>
SUPPLEMENT
12821
INFORMATIONS
Celte année, comme l'an dernier, rAmérique et l'Allemagne ont échangé des
professeurs. Dernièrement, les deux professeurs américains, le professeur Hadley
de l'Université de Yale et le professeur Siioiield de Harvard, ont fait leur leçon
d'ouverture.
Le professeur Hadley indiqua le sujet de ses futures leçons : « L'économie
politique en Amérique », et traça les grandes lignes de son cours. 11 veut arriver
à démontrer que la dilTérence entre l'économie polititpie en Allemagne et en
Amérique e>l un résultat de l'évolution historique différente des deux pays.
Le professeur Shofield traitera dans ses cours le sujet suivant : « Les litté-
ratures au moyen âge. Comparaison entre les littératures des différents pays
de l'Europe. » D'après le professeur Shofield, l'histoire de la littérature, n'étant
qu'une partie de l'histoire de la civilisation, est surtout intéressante à ce point
de vue, et c'est à ce point de vue qu'il l'étudiera. Le Kronprinz assistait à cette
séance d'ouverture.
Les coefficients attribués aux épreuves des agrégations et des certificats
d'aptitude de l'enseignement secondaire pour 1908 sont fixés ainsi qu'il suit :
Agrégation d'Allemand.
Epreuves préparatoires .
Composition française sur un sujet
d'histoire littéraire aliemande.
Composition allemande sur un sujet
relatif à la civilisation moderne
des pays de langue allemande.
Thème
Version
Ei^reuves dclinitices .
Leçon française préparée.
Leçon allemande préparée .
Explication de deux textes alle-
mands, l'un en prose, l'autre en
\crs
Thème oral improvisé
Agrégation d Anglais.
Epreuves préparatoires .
Composition française sur un sujet
d'histoire littéraire anglaise . .
Composition anglaise sur un sujet
relatif à la civilisation moderne des
pays de langue anglaise.
Thème
Version ...
Epreu ces dî'fm il ives .
Leçon française préparée. ... 4
Leçon anglaise préparée. ... 4
Explication de deux textes anglais,
l'un en prose, l'autre en vers. . 4
Thème oral improvisé 4
Agrégation d'Espagnol et d Italien.
Epreuves préparatoires.
Composition en langue étrangère
sur un sujet d'histoire littéraire.
Composition en français sur un su-
jet relatif à la civilisation moderne
des pays de langue italienne ou
espagnole
Thème
Version
Epreuves défniilives.
Leçon en français 4
Leçon en langue étrangère ... 4
Explication de deux textes, l'un en
prose, l'autre en vers .... 4
Thème oral improvisé 3
Explicalion improvisée d'un passage
d'une re\ue en langue complé-
mentaire 2
Note pour la prononciation ... 3
[283]
SUPPLÉMENT
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement de lAUemand.
Epreures préparatoires .
Thème
Version
Composition allemande
Épreuves définitives.
Thème
Version
Lecture expliquée ....
Commentaire grammatical .
Prononciation
43
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement de l'Anglais
Epreii ces préparatoires .
Thème
Version .....
Composition anglaise
Epreuves définitives
Thème oral
Version orale ....
Lecture expliquée ...
Commentaire grammatical
Prononciation ....
Ceitificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement de l'Espagnol
et à l'enseignement de l'Italien.
Epreuves préparatoires .
Thème i
Version i
Composition 2
Epreuves définitives .
Thème r
Version i
Lecture expliquée »
Commentaire grammatical ... i
Prononciation ....... 2
Certificat d'aptitude au professorat des Classes élémentaires.
Épreuves écrites.
Langues vivantes '. . .
Epreuves orales.
Langues vivantes . . . .
I 1/2
Agrégation de l'Enseignement secondaire des Jeunes Filles .
Épreuve orale.
Epreuves écrites
Version de langue vivante
Lecture expliquée d'un texte de
langue vivante
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement secondaire
des Jeunes Filles.
I. ORDRE DES LETTRES
Épreuves écrites.
Composition sur les langues vi-
vantes 3
Épreuves orales.
Explication d'un texte de langue vi-
vante
S
II. — ORDRE DES SCIENCES
Epreuves orales.
Explication d'un texte de langue vivante 1
I . Allemand ou Anglais.
SUPPLÉMENT
SUJETS D'EX4MENS ET CONCOURS
[284]
Ecole normale de Sèvres (1907).
{Alk'uunul ou Amjlais (version et rédaction) : 2 heures.]
Version allemande.
Mein Stern.
Oft in meinem Abendwandel hefte
Ich auf einen sclionen Stern den Blick,
Zwar sein Zeiclien hat besondre Kriifle,
Doch bestimml und zwingl er kein Ge-
[schick.
Nicht geheime Winke will er geben,
Er ist wahr und rein und ohne Trug,
Er beseliget und ^*l;irkt das Leben
Mit der tiefsten Selirisuclil slillem Zug.
Nicht versleht er Gotles dunkeln VVillen,
Noch der Dinge letzten, ew'gen Grund,
Wunden lieilt er, Schmerzen kann er
[stillen
VViedas Wortaus eines Freundes Mund-
In die Bangnis, die Bedriingnis funkelt
Er mit seineni liellsten Slrahle gern,
Und je mehr die Erde miilich dunkelt,
Desto niiher, slilrker brennt mein Stern.
Holder, einen Namen wirst du tragen,
Aber diesen vvissen will ich nicht,
Keincii Weisen werd'irh darum fragen.
Du mein trostliches, mein treues Licht.
Conrad Ferdinand Meyer.
Rédaction en langue allemande.
Si vous A'Ouliez former une bibliothèque composée d'ouvrages allemands, par quels
auteurs commenceriez-vous ?
Justifiez votre choix.
Version anglaise.
An Exhortation.
Ciiameleons feed on light and air;
Poets food is love and famé.
If in this wide world of care
Poets cGuld but find Ihe same
With as Utile toil as thcy,
\Vould tliey ever change tlieir hue
As the light chameleons do,
Suiling it lo every ray
Tvventy times a-day !
Poets are on this cold earlh
As chameleons might be,
Ilidden from their early birlh
In a cave beneath the sea.
Where light is, chameleons change;
Where love is not, poets do.
Famé is love disguised : if few
Find either, never think it strange
That poets range.
Yetdare not staiii wilh wealtli orpow"er
.\ poet's free and heavenly mind.
If bright chameleons shouid devour
.\ny food but beams and wind,
They would grow as earlhly soon
.\s their brother lizards are.
Children of a sunnier star,
Spirils from beyond the moon.
Oh ! refuse the boon.
Shki.i.ev.
Rédaction en langue anglaise.
Que pensez vous du proverbe anglais " A bird in Ihe hand is worth Iwo in the bush " P
' Un tiens vaut mieux que deux lu l'auras. ")
Montrez à l'aide d'exemples s'il s'applique à toutes les circonstances.
[285] SUPPLÉMENT 4o
Baccalauréat Sciences-Laugues (juillet 1907).
(Matih-i's à dcoeloppi'v. — Temps nfcorilê : 3 heurea.)
Composition en langue allemande,
^cr !Wl)cinîtrt)m ".
.^îctn Strom fanu \\i) mit if)m au 2:^i3nt)cit, gkicfjmaçtgei; gnltoicfetung unb ^iUorii(^eï
SOtc^tigteit mefien.
2a§ ergibt \\à), tueim tnan
1) 2)en j^lnij ielbit betradjtet, unb l'max :
a) jetn CueUengebiet — in bem mittlereu 3llpeugebiet fenben ï)unbeïte tion ©Ictjcfjcïu
bcnt 9l^etn t^re ©ehJûffcr ju, bie fic^ in fc^onen Seen tieru'^igen unb lautern ;
b) feinen mittlereu Vauf, — ï)ier fUeRt er burd) lai^enbe ^'yliiïen, an itattUc^en
2c^Ioifevn, ^o^eu Somen unb funftreic^en Stabteu tiorbei ;
c) ieiuen unteveu Sauf, buvcf) eine ic^ranfenlofe S6ene mit mac^tigem 2BafferfaU unb
jafilteic^en DJiiinbungen.
2) Seine 3?ebeutung buvc^ unb fiiv bie anroo^neuben inciter in§ 3luge façt :
a) in SSejug ouf bie Srfjrteij unb §oIIanb;
b) fiic bie iibrigen buïc^ i^n felbft unb feine ^JJe6eufliiffe îievli^rten Sanbev 'Blittel=
(ïuropaë. (-^^?f'-)
Composition en langue anglaise.
A young Engli;h sliident, Avho lias passed his examinations, writes to a Frencti frieiid
to explain wliy he is ready to leave his native land for the Brltish colonies.
In England, it is difficult to live : there are twenly candidates for one office ; —
state of indiistry, commerce, agriculture.
In Africa, Asia, America there is more freedom ; there are more chances of niaking
money and having a better home. {AUjer.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
El hijo PERDiDO (Clento arabe)
Unhombre lia madoMirza ténia un hijo ûnicodeunoscualroaiios. Estedesaparecio un dia
en una funciôrt que V. imaginarâ. Diligencias del inconsolable Mirza para adquirir
noticias de su hijo ^.4/0- Todo fué inùtil. — Al cabo de ocho anos Mirza encontre en
un camino una grande boisa llena de oro. Busco al dueiïo de la boisa (llamado
Bania) y se la devolviô. — Agradecimiento de Bania que precisamente ténia" Ali
en su casa, gracias à circunstancias especiales que V. conlarà. — Aunque mucho mâs
rico que Mirza, Bania prometio casar à su hija con Ali, lo que se verificô algunos afios
despues. [Afger.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Facendo una gita in campagna^ alla fine del mese di settembre, arrivate in mezzo a
un campo dove, a perdita d'occhio, non si vede altro che sterminate file di viti verdi
caricate d'uve mature.
Rillettendo innanzi a questo speltacolovi domandale che diverranno tuttequesle uve
€ vi rammenlale le diverse fasi délia vendemmia e délia vinificazione.
Scrivete ora il risultato délie vostre riflessioni : che diverranno queste uve ? le uve
nel tino, al torchio, ecc. ; infine come le uve divengono vino.
Nota : dite tutto questo molto sommarlaiin'itle. [Algrr.)
Composition en langae allemande.
Als Kaiser konrad III ûber Deutschland herrschte, emporte sich der Herzog von
Bayern gegen ihn. Konrai siegte in der Schlacht und zwar bei dem Stiidtchen VVeins-
berg (ii/|o). Nun konnte sich die kleine Feste nicht liinger halten...
Ua kanien Biirgersfrauen zu ihm ins Lager und baten demûtig um Gnade ..
« Mit Weibern fûhre ich keinen Krieg, sprach der Kaiser, sie mugen frei abziehen
und von dem, was ihnen von ihren Schiitzen am liebsten ist so viel mitnehmen, als
ihre Schultern tragen kôiuicn ! n
'Nous donnerons dans un n" ultérieur le développement de ce sujet.
46 SUPPLÉMEiNT [286]
Am andern Morgen oirneten sich die Tore...
Ans dcr Sladt kamen die Weiber und jede trug ihren Mann auf dem Riicken...
{Brsançon.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
A great inundalion liaving takcn place in llie nortli ofltaly, llie river Adige'carried off
a bridge near Verona, except llie middlepart on which was tlie home of the loU-gatherer
(or porter) who, wilh his whole family, llius remained imprisoned by the waves...
A nobleman who was présent, held out a piirse of one hundred poundsas a reward
to any adventurer who would deliver this unhappy family...
A peasant passing along jumped into a boat and brought the family to shore.
a Hère is the promised recompense, exclaimed the nobleman.
— 1 shall ne ver expose my life for money, answered the peasant,... Give Ihe pnrse
to this poor family. . . » {Resdiiron.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Essendo veniilo a Parigi a rappresentare l'Italia ail" incoronamento di Napoleone 1
(dicembre i8o'i), Mclzi, dura d'Eril, vice-preside délia Repubblica cisalpina, narra alla
giunta milanese quella meravigliosa solennilà, colle diverse cerimonic traie strade délia
città siccome nello stupendo duomo parigino. Spera che la gloria dell' Imperatore
riascirà alla desiderata iinità italiana cd angnra alla Francia, nazione sorella dell' Ilalia
una pace féconda, degno frntlo délia militare virlii. {Bemnçon.)
Composition en langue allemande.
TrAGISCHE GeSCHICHTE in kORSlK\.
Matteo Falcone und sein zwolfjiihriger Sohn wohnen zusammen in einer Hutte im
Gebirge. Plôtzlich erscheint bel ihnen ein Fliichtling, der von Gendarmen verfoigt wird.
I> ist verwundet, seine Kriifle versagen .
Er bittel um Aufnahme und um Hilfc. Matteo Falcone verbirgt den unerwartoten
Gast; darauf entfernt er sich.
Bald kommen die Gendarmen an ; sie nchmen das Kind ins \'erh("ir, sie drohen ihm ;
es will nichts >erraten. Endlich aber bietet man ihm eine silberne Taschenulir an; es
kann der Versuchung nicht widerstehen. Der Fliichtling wird entdeckt und abgefiïhrt.
Riickkehr des A'aters. Empôrt daniber. dah sein Solin das heilige Gastrecht verkannt
hal, schief^t er ilin tôt. (Caen.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
Suppose tliat a gentleman, having fallen asleep in the middle of Ihe eighteenth cen-
tury, bas waked up at Ihe beginning of the Iwentieth. He relates his fîrst expériences
after he has recovered his sensés.
He walks through the streets of a town wilh one of his descendants who acts as his
guide. His bewildermenl at Ihe many wonderful changes that hâve taken place :
streets.... clothes and manners of the passers-by . . . . means of locomotion. .. . nieans
of communicating wilh people at a distance.... factories ... social and political
changes.
He puts eager questions to his companion. Make him draw wlial conclusion you
please. {Caen.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Die sibirisclic Sladt BlagOHeschensk liegt am Ufer des Amurflusses. Der etwa 2600
Mêler breite Fluf^ bildel dort die Grenze zwischen Sibirien und China. Der Stadt gegen-
liber liegt das chinesische Dorf Aïgun. Chinesische Riiuber fingen an, von dort ans in
die Richlung von Blagoweschensk zu schielien. In der Sladt wohnten ungefiihr 2000
fricdliche chinesische Kaufleiite. Sie wurden \om sibirischcn Pobel ûberall verfoigt,
und, trolz ihrer llehentlichen Bitten, in einen weiten Hof gelrieben, wiihrend ilire
Hiiuser gepliindert wurden. Am andern Tag nôtigte man sie, nach dem chinesischen
287] SUPPLÉMENT 47
Ufcr hiniiberziisclnvimmcn. Diejenigen, die niclit ertranken wurden. von dcn Ri'mbcrn
erscliossen.
Ein Chinese, der in der Stadt dem Todc entkommen war, erziililt don Vorfall in
einem Brief an einrn deutschen Bckannten. (Dijon.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
A LETTEIt.
Wishing to enter inlo correspondence willi an English boy, yon write to him and
ask him to exchange letlers with yen. Tell him abont yourself and family, your life
and favourite occnpalions, and say somclhing of llie place yon live in.
(Dijon.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Dice un sapienle medico americano clie la civillà di un popolo si puô misurare
dalla quanlilà di sapone che esso consuma.
Dopo aver commentato quest'asserzione la discuterete. (Dijon.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Ein altérer Freund hat Ihnen geschrieben und Sie gefragt, wie weit Sie in Ihren
Studion gekonimen sind. Schildern Sie ihm briellich den Verlauf Ihrer bisherigen
Studien und sagen Sie ihm, welche Laufbahn Sie einzuschiagen gedenken und ans
welchen Gri'inden. (Grenoble.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Zvvei Scluilkameraden steigen mit einander AvJihrend der Ferien auf einen Berg,
iibernachlen in einem Forsthause unueit des Gipfels und sehen am anderen Morgen den
Sonnenaufgang. (Grenoble.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Wie gedenkst du deine Kenntnisse in der deutschen Sprache, auch \venn du das Gym-
nasium AAirst verlassen haben, womuglich zu erweitern ?
Das Lesen deutscher Bûclier.
Anlegen einer deutschen Bibliothek.
Abonnieren an eine deutsche Zeitung.
Gespriichstunden mit Deutschen.
Reise und Aufenlhalt in Dcutschland, usw. [Grenoble.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Erkliire das Sprichwort : « Hunger ist der beste Koch. » Wie verslehst du dièses
Sprichwort ? Erkliire es durch folgendes P>eispiel : Kin Bauernknabe nihrt seine Mor-
gensuppe nicht an, und diesellie Sappe schmeckt ihm herrlicii am Abend, nachdem er
den ganzen Tag auf dem Felde gearbeitet hat. (Grenoble.)
DEVOIRS PROPOSES
Brevet supérieur.
1. Wann beginncn die vier Jahrcszeilen ?
2. Welches sind die Glieder des menschlichen Korpers und wozu dienen sie?
3. Wie beleucliten wir unsere Slral'ien und unsere Hiiuser ^\ahrend der Naclit.'
l^ . Welche Tiere hast du in einer Ménagerie geselien ?
(Aspirants, .Vo/icy, i'e session 1907.)
48 SUPPLÉMRNT '2881
1 . Wliat do yoii tlo nhen you want to write a leller ?
2. If it is a regislercd letter, what do you do with it wlien it is written >
3. Wliat happens to yoiir leller vvhen you hâve handed it to an oflicial ?
'i Write a short note to ask a friend to corne hâve tea vvilli you.
(Aspiiants. Poitiers, 2'' session 1007.)
I . (j Gu;'iles son los oficios que se ejercen en la aldea ?
1. Enumerar y describir l)revemente las tiendas de unacindad.
3 c Ciiâies son las divisiones principales del tienipo ?
(A^pirant<;, Grenoble, 2« session 1907.)
DEVOIR CORRIGÉ
Thème *.
titict i>tc i)cut)(i)c t'itcratiir.
Srief ûtt SSoItaire. 2i ^uU H'-'J.
lluicïe îeutjifjen tvcibt ber (y^rgei^ auci) itiverieitê bie Soviiigc hn îd^oucn .«iiufte ju
genie^en, unb fie bemufjen fic^, tnit '3(t()en, ;lîom, {ylorenj unb S^aviê ju inettcifern. 2i}te fe^r
id) auà) mcin 'T^atcrlanb lietie, barf id) borf) unmijglid) fagen, ce jet \t)nen bi§ jet^t getungen:
ce gcbric[)t if)ucn leibcv on jwet Sarfjeti, au ber Spiarfjc unb an ©eidjmaiï. S)ic gpïarfje i[t 3U
ttieitîdjlucifig; bic gebitbeten S?eute ipredjen fïanjoiijci^, unb uon eiuigcn ©djulfiidjîen unb
5)5rofeiforeu tann fie bie ©latte unb bie flie^cnbcn SBcnbungcu nic^t criangcn, bie fie uur im
a)ei-te()r mit ber fciuen 2BeU ertoerlicn ïann. Jiigcn 2ie nod) Ijiuju bie a^crfc^iebenfieit ber
llluubartcn ; jebe ^probinj ïjSlt icft an ber ifjrigcu, unb dis jetjt f)at mau tcincr ben SSorjug
gegetien.
2Ba§ ben ®ef(^mad betrifft, fef)tt e§ ben Seutf cf)en in jeber SSeaieïjung baran; bie Sdjriftfteller
be§ 3sitûttcru bc§ 'Jtuguf tu§ "^aïien fie iiS^er noc^ ntdjt nad),}ua^men t)crmod)t: fie mad^en etncn
irrigcn ÎJtifdjmafrf) au-S bcm romifdjen, eugïifd)en, frau,5i.ijiid)cu unb bcutfdjcn ©efc^mad ; c§
feï)U iï)nen nod) jcue fcinere Urtcilètraft, locldje bic 5:ct)i3ul)citcn libcrall erfafjt, \vo fie n)eïcf)C
finbct, unb baê "JJtittcïmafjigc «on bem a>Dllfommcnen, ba§ (vbïe nom (yïî)aticucn ju untcr:
fc^eiben lueif} unb ciu jebcê an ber il)m gclni()reubeu Stclle an^ubviugcn Pcvftcljt.
aïknu fic^ uur Ijiiuftge r in ben 2S5rteru tf)rcr Gkbidjte norfiubcn, \o gtaubeu fie idjon iï)re
a^erfc feien moï)ltïingcnb, unb geuùifjnliri) ift eâ uur ein fd)U)iilftigcy SBortgemirr. ^n bct
6cfd)id)te miidjteu fie auc^ nidjt ben geriugften Umftanb nermiffeu, felbft Ineun cr unuii^
hjdre. 3f|re beftcu inerte bcjiefjcu fid) ouf boê ®elooï)uf)cit'3rcd)t.
"•JJlit ber "Isbilofopbie ï)ot fid) feit ScibnijeuS Gcntc uub ber grofjcn ïï}Dtffd)cn lUouabe
uiemanb tefdjiiftigt.
©ie glaubcu, cu ju cttnaê ju bringen ouf bem ïljcatcr ; bod) fjabcu fie bi§ jcljt nid)t§
SBoUtommeueS on» £id)t gebrad)t. îeutfdjlonb ijt uun iu bcm nomlidjcn ^uftonb aï§ 5rûnî=
reid) jnr 3eit 'î^xan^ be§ grften.
2)er ©efc^morf fiir bie fd)bnen 2Biffenfdjaften fangt ou fid^ 3U berbreiten ; mon nniB ïnorten,
tii§ bie 5tatur njo^re @enic§ crjcugc, Itjie unter ber U^crmaltung ber 93îinifter 9îic^elicu unb
■"Blosorin. 3^er Soben, ber einen l'eiftnij l^eriiorge'brod^t ïjat, îaun \vo1)l nod) onbere erïiliiljcn
lûffen.
gricbrid^ II.
* \'oir le texte dans le n" du 20 octobre njoy.
Bar-le-Duc. — Imprimerie Comte-Jacquet, Facdouel, Dir.
Les Cinq Langues
N° 7. 5 Janvier 1908. 8» Année.
SUPPLÉMENT
CE QUE NOUS ÉCRIVONS
Les KiiUarfragen publient d'intéressantes réflexions de Ed. Platzhoff-
Lejeune sur ce sujet tout d'actualité : Ce que nous écrivons.
La hâte fiévreuse, dit Ed. PlatzhofF, qui caractérise notre vie publique se fait
sentir dans ce que nous écrivons plus encore que dans ce que nous disons.
On s'en est plaint souvent déjà et je n'aurai pas besoin de m'étendre longue-
ment sur ce sujet. La littérature épistolaire du passé a peut-être autant de beauté
et de grandeur que les autres monuments littéraires. Les confessions, les pen-
sées qu'on échangeait dame à àme, les merveilleuses méditations intérieures qui
nous sont restées sous forme de lettres ont une valeur inappréciable et comptent
parmi les plus nobles trésors de la littérature universelle. Mais nous, qu'ofîrirons-
nous à nos contemporains aussi bien qu'à la postérité !* Nous écrivons quand
nous avons besoin de quelque chose. Le développement extraordinaire de la
correspondance par cartes postales, la carte-lettre, les quelcjues caractères tra-
cés sur une carte de visite témoignent de notre précipitation. La mode de la
carte postale illustrée s'est propagée avec une rapidité inouïe et ce n'est certes
pas pour des raisons esthétiques. On peut liquider ainsi très rapidement et de
façon élégante toute une correspondance de politesse dont on n'aurait guère pu
se débarrasser qu'avec des lettres.
Et quand, malgré tout, on prend la peine d'écrire de vraies lettres, c'est pour
donner quelques nouvelles, mais on le fait en hâte. On raconte comment vont
les enfants, les affaires, ce qu'on désirerait pour Noël, on pose quelques ques-
tions à son coriespondant et on termine bien vite. . . parce que le dîner est
servi. .. ou qu'on tombe de fatigue. Personne ne songe à garder ces épîtres
dont la valeur intrinsèque est souvent en raison inverse de l'élégance du papier.
On trouve encore des lettres « d'idées » qui peignent des sentiments, c[ui décri-
vent des choses vécues, qui racontent de façon désintéressée des événements de
la vie intérieure ou de la vie l'éelle — elles ont pour auteurs nos fils et nos
filles à l'âge ingrat. Eux seuls ont encore le culte de l'idéalisme qui semblait
tout naturel aux penseurs et aux intellectuels d'autrefois, et dont on se moque
aujourd'hui parce qu'on le trouve trop puéril.
J'ose à peine parler de la « forme » de nos lettres. Les gens soi-disant cultivés,
pour aller vite, se permettent dans leur correspondance des libertés extraordi-
naires. En y mettant de l'indulgence, on pourrait dii'e qu'ils manquent de
goût, mais à parler franc, c'est un manque de politesse. Les expressions « votre
honorée » ou « votre lettre d'hier » sont tombées dans le domaine du passé.
Aujourd'hui, on supprime les pronoms personnels, souvent les verbes : « Été
hier à A. . . Vu X. . ., fameux gaillard! Pris le thé. Promenade au jardin zoo-
logique. Rentré par le dernier train. » Tel est le style à la mode. Ce qu'il pourra
devenir dans la suite, on ne le sait guère.
Toujours est-il que le triomphe du télégramme, non seulement dans le
monde des afîaires, mais comme moyen de correspondance entre parents
[42] SliPPL. "
50 SUPPLÉMENT [330]
(« Enfanls vont bien. Orage hier. Que fait ,Tcan ? ») indique suffisamment dans
quel sens se développera notre correspondance et ce que nous écrirons.
On m'objectera peut-être que j'oublie les lettres si belles et si intéressantes
échangées de nos jours entre artistes et savants. Tl en est encore, c'est possible,
qui se distinguent au point de vue du style épistolaire. Mais là aussi, on peut
constater la décadence. Beaucoup d'hommes en vue de notre époque n'écrivent
leurs lettres qu'avec l'arrière-pensée d-e voir un jour leur correspondance livrée
à la publicité. On trouve qu'il ne vaut plus la peine de communiquer en détail
toutes ses pensées, et cela gratuitement, à une seule personne. Et c'est pourquoi
la lettre n'est maintenant qu'une forme un peu plus intime du livre.
Elle regarde à la dérobée le grand public et perd ainsi le charme particulier
qui caractérise le commerce discret de deux âmes étroitement unies, et le
grand public met en doute la sincérité etla vérité des sentiments exprimés dans
la lettre.
Les réflexions de M. PlatzhofF seraient aussi justes chez nous qu'en
Allemagne. Nous lisons moins que les Allemands ; nous écrivons sûre-
ment aussi peu et aussi mal qu'eux, parce que nous ne prenons pas le temps
d'écrire.
Un de nos écrivains proposait récemment de décerner un prix au meil-
leur éloge de la lenteur. L'idée était profonde, sous son air badin. On ne
prend plus le temps, disait-il, de respirer, de regarder, de dormir, de man-
ger (ce qu'il faisait semblant de déplorer plus que tout le reste) ; on ne con-
naît plus la sage lenteur, on vit trop vite, on écrit trop vite. A quoi bon
écrire? On n'a plus rien à « mander ». Les journaux (( mandent » tout,
souvent même ce qui n'est pas arrivé, et quant à « mander » de soi-même,
on ne le fait pas parce qu'on ne veut plus prendre le temps >de s'étudier,
de se connaître, de se regarder vivre, ou bien si on le fait, c'est pour le
grand public, pour le théâtre, pour le roman. Les amis y perdent — mais
a-t-on encore le temps d'en avoir ou de les garder — et la lettre se meurt,
il faut en prendre son parti. Si par liasard quelque retardataire, quelque
fossile s'avisait delà faire revivre, aurait-il la chance d'être lu et goûté ? On
le lirait peut-être, on ne lui répondrait pas. Et entre la lecture d'une lettre
de huit pages, fût-elle la plus délicieuse, la plus spirituelle du monde, et
une promenade en automobile, peu de gens hésiteraient : on se promène-
rait d'abord. La lettre, elle, dormirait au fond d'un tiroir d'où l'on pense-
rait peut-être à la sortir un jour de pluie ou un jour de déménagement.
E.-M. B.
SUJETS D'EXAMENS Eï CONCOUKS
Certificat d'aptitude au Professorat des Classes
élémentaires de l'Enseignement secondaire (1907).
(Temps accorde : 4 heures.)
Version allemande.
Xic l'iuDc, chi i'icbliiuiôbaum OC'» itcutfrfycn fBolUè.
®l ift bie tnarmflc 3eit beé ^a'^teS, toeim bie Sinbc it)ïc tnuîenb unb aï'cr tnnjcnb SBtiitcn
i3finct unb Iicïiïicf)cu 3;uft barau§ entfcnbct. S:a ietjt fief) bcï S^eiitîdie abenbS gcrn itiS t^xm,
um naà) ber ©(ïijuiite be§ Sageg bie ïiit)ïcvc iiuft cinjuatmcii, in bie \iâ) ber Sinbcnbuft
mifcfit. Untet bcm jdjattigen L'ouÊbadj be§ tieniidjen Satimcê fc^iccft ctn ïiit)ler Intnï noc^
[331] SUPPLÉMENT 51
cinniûl io gut : itnter ber Stnbe \\ndi bie ,3u9C"Î5 ^^^ S)oïfe§, Bi§ e§ S^it ^i^^ Ji^ ^ette 311
ç^elien ; untex bev Sinbe ev^iitjlen ©rojjtiatcr unb ©rofsmutter ben I)otd)enben (guïeïti gevn bie
(vtïcïjniffe if)ver ^ugenb. 3o nimmt bie Sinbc am ]^anùl\enWbm gïeidjfûm innigen îtnteiï,
fie ge'^ôrt mit jiitn 3;aî)eim, unb altère Sente luifien bauon ju fagen, toie i{)nen bev S)uft bev
Sinbenbliite U)ol]i jun^eilen bie fii^eften (ïvinnerungen an bie Stdtten itjvev .s^eimat evrtecft
()at. SB. ©ïufie.
Thème allemand.
Chez le noN docteur.
Une jeune fille vint après le paysan.
« Eh bien ! comment va ta mère, lui dit le docteur.
— Beaucoup mieux, monsieur Minxit, mais elle ne peut reprendre ses forces, et je
venais vous demander ce qu'elle doit faire.
— Tu me demandes ce qu'il faut faire, et je parie que vous n'avez pas le sou pour
acheter des remèdes !
— Hélas ! non, mon bon monsieur Minxit, car mon père n'a plus d'ouvrage depuis
huit jours.
— Alors pourqvioi diable ta mère s'avise-l-elle d'èlre malade ?
— Soyez tranquille, monsieur Minxit, aussitôt que mon père travaillera, vous serez
payé de vos visites.
— Bon, voilà encore une autre sottise ! 11 est donc fou, ton père, de vouloir me payer
mes visites quand il n"a pas de pain !... Tu vas emporter un panier devin vieux avec
un quartier de mouton ; voilà pour le moment ce qu'il faut à ta mère. Si d'ici à deux
ou trois jours ses forces ne reviennent point, tu me le feras dire. »
Claude Tillier [Mon oncle Benjamin).
N. B. — ]ji nouvelle orthographe allemande est ohUgaloire.
Version anglaise.
Mary gavehim a tin basin of water and a pièce of soap, and he went outside the door
and set the basin on a litlle bench there; then he dipped the soap in the water and laid
it dovvn ; turned up his sieeves; poured out the water on the ground gently, and
then-entered the kitchen, and began to wipe his face diligently on the towel behind
the door. But Mary removed the lowel and said :
" Now ain't you ashamed, Tom .^ You mustn't be so bad. Water won't liurt you. "
Tom was a trifle disconcerted. The basin was refiUed, and this lime he stood over it
a littlewhile, galhering resolution ; took. in a big breath and began. When he eniered
the kitchen presently, witli both eyes shut, and groping for the towel with his hands,
an honourable testimoay of suds and water wasdripping l'rom his face. But when lie
emerged from the towel, he was not yct satisfactory ; for the clean territory stopped
short at his chin and his jaws like a mask ; below and beyond this line there was a
dark expanse of unirrigated soil thatspread downward in front and backward around his
neck. Mary took him in hand, and when she had done with him he looked exceedingly
improved .
Mark Twain (The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, ch. iv).
Thème anglais.
Même texte que pour le thème allemand ci-dessus.
Baccalauréat Sciences-Langues (juillet 1907]
{Matières d développer. — Temps accordé : 3 heures.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
Comment on the following proverbial phrases :
Ail work and no play makes Jac'n a dull boy.
Ail play and no work makes him a dunce.
SUPPLÉMENT [332]
You may licre introduce a few remarks about what you know of English school life
and sports, and say Avlielher in your opinion schools should be eslablished rather in
the coiinlry or in towns. {Grenoble.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
The choice of a profession.
When you left school some time ago, you inlended to become a. . . . (name any pro-
fession you choose).
But unexpected circumstances (state wliich) prevent you froni following the calling of
your choice. Of course it is a bitter disappointment. . . You wrile to one of your
former teachers for advice. You tell him what professions you \vouhl prefer, next to
the one you had to give up ail Ihoiight of. Give reasons of your préférences....
(Grenoble.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
If you werc going to visit London, tell me what you Avould expect to see, or if you
réside there tell me what you Avould show a friend who visited you.
Streets and houses. Thoroughfares (SIrand, Régent SIreet, Oxford Slreetl: parks
(Hyde Park, Régent Park and the Zoo). Monuments (Tower of London, Westminster
Abbey, Houses of Parliament, St Pauls f.alhedral). Muséums (Brilish Muséum, Victoria
and Albert Muséum, National Gallery). Huckingham Palace. Trafalgar Square.
(Grenoble. )
Composition en langue italienne.
Origine della lingua Italiana.
1. Che cosa è la lingua italiana? Quale la sua origine? la sua composizione? Trasfor-
mazioni più imporlanti. Articoli, verbi, preposizioni.
2. Formazione, esistenza e vivacità dei dialetti. Dialetto che prevalse, e perche.
3. Quale lingua è parlata e capila da tutti in Italiar' Perché ? Tenlativi del governo
c (juali sono aflinchè l'ilaliano puro non sia soltanio la lingua della legge e degli atti,
ma ancor d'uso vivo e coslanle in bocca di tutti. (Grenoble.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Una disgrazia in montagna.
Siele andali con una brigata d'amici a fareuna gita in montagna.
Raccontate l'allegra salita fra le risa, gli scherzi, i canti e descrivete la strada.
Arrivati ad una velta più ripida e più cria d'ogni allra, un giovane più baldanzoso
che prudente si prétende laie da farne l'ascensione; ad onta délie esortazioni dei più
savi, si accinge alla prova.
Già è quasi giunlo in cima, quando. . . .
Mentre gli altri itrasporlano il cadavcre al i)rcssinio paesello, uno di Aoi parte di
corsa ad annuiiziare alla famiglia il doloroso caso. (Grenoble.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Geografia fisica e politica dell'Italia
I. Forma, confîni, orografia. Isole più imporlanti, fiunii e laghi principali dell'Italia.
■-'.. Forma di governo, ordinamento amministrativo e giudiziario,
3. Indicare le ciltà piu important! del Regno e dire quali si preferirebbe visitare, con
un cenno aile curiosità e monumenti che vantano a scopo di spiegare il perché
dell'agognala visila.
(Grenoble.)
[3331 SUPPLÉMENT S3
Composition en langue allemande.
DEn SCHNEESTLRM.
Eine VVinterlandschaft. Eisige Luft. Schvvarze W'olken ziehen am bleifarbenen Him-
mel. Ein stûrmischerWind weht und verkûndet einen Schneesturni. Bald fallen einige
Flocken. Es sieht aus, als ob weil'îe Bienen in der Luft flugen. Die Schneeflocken fallen
dichter.
Bald ist der Boden mit einem weilien Schleier bedeckt. H(ilier und hôher wird die
Decke. Endlich hôrt es auf, su schneien.
Der Wind bat sich gelegt. Stille um den Schauenden. Folgen des Schneefalls fur
Menschen und Tiere.
(Lille.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
The DESERT.
At Gaza, a traveller is kept a couple of days in a caravanserai (describe it) by bis
préparations for a journey Ihrough the désert. While bis servant is making arrange-
ments therefor, he wilnesses the arrivai of a caravan (describe it).
Ready at last. Four camels bave been bired, one for, etc. Describe the tra^eller's stores.
Packing. The traveller gets into bis seat on the camel's hump and away they go.
Describe the camel's pace. The landscape. At night tbey corne up with an encamp-
mènt of Bédouins. The Arabs in charge of the camels bake their bread, etc.
Departure in the early morning. Fierce midday beat. At sunset the tent is again
pitched and the fîre kindled, etc. On the nintb day the traveller enters upon Egypt
and the minarets of Cairo appear upon the edge of the horizon. {Lille.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Der Bau eines Hausks.
Schildern Sie die verschiedenen Arbeilen, die zur Herstellung eines Hauses notwen-
dig sind : das Entwerfen des Planes durch den Baumeister, die Verrichtungen des
Maurers, des Zimmermanns, des Schreiners, des Schlossers, des Glasers, usw.
Wie wird das Haus eingeteilt ? Beschreiben Sie die Zimmer und sagen Sie, wozu ein
jedes dient.
Welche Forderungen sind in iisthetischer, praktischer und hygienischer Hinsiclit an
«in Haus zu stellen ?
Beschreiben Sie das Haus, das Sie am liebsten bewohncn miichten. {Lijon.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
Henri de Turenne, a child of nine years old, the youngest son of the Duke of Bouil-
lon, was found one evening to bave left bis room in the castle. — His parents sought
for him in vain. — At last he was discovered on the ramparts of Sedan, asleep on a gun-
carriage (un affût de canon) covered wilh snow. — His father roused him by crying :
« The enemy ! « — Tbe child woke up, saying : « I am ready n. — He had nished
to endure some of Ibe actual hardships of war, and became the famous Marshal
Turenne. [Lfjon.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
Impresiones de un jôven madrileno de viaje à Paris. Llegada, movimiento de las
calles, medios de trasporte, ferrocarril metropolitano. Comparaciôn, si U'i puede, con
los paseos de Madrid. Los boulevards. Puntos de vista cU'isicos (torres de Notre-Dame,
Montmartre). El bosque de Boulogne. Una corrida de caballos, ô, si Ud quiere, una
fiesta de las flores. Como le habrâ gustado la ciudad.
\Lijon.)
S4 SUPPLÉMENT [334]
Composition en langue italienne.
La patria..
Cil) che fa la patria : terra, iingua, s-toria. Perché la dobbiamo amare filialmente.
Queslo amore puo esigtere oramai senza lodio délie patrie altrui. Ma pur essendo paci-
lico, deve serapre essere vivo e attivo.
{Lyon.
Composition en langue allemande.
1. &àb e§ ^iid^eï bov ber ©rftnbung ber Suctjbniiïeïfunft V
•2. SBann, \vo, Don toem tourbe bic ïBui^bïucferîunît evfunbeit ■<
3. SBidjttgïeit biefer (Srfinbung.
1. Sjefrfjreifce a) ente Sui^bvucfcrei h) eine 23iï)liotï)e{.
o. 28elc§e ^u^n Ue']t bu am ïtebiten ?
Nancy.)
DEVOIRS CORRIGÉS*
Baccalauréat.
Mal humorado andaba aquel dia Don Quijote por esos caminos de Dios, agiiantando
un sol de juslicia capaz de derretir los sesos que se ocultasen bajo el m;is sôlido cri'ineo,
y en su contrariedad entraba en mucho que, dcsde hacia una semana, no habia encon-
trado ocasiôn de demostrar su valor enderezando algi'in entuerto 6 componiendo algi'in
desvencijado.
El bueno de Sanclio, esponjândose el sudor que â cliorros cala por su rostro y venia
il perderse entre los intrincadosmatorrales de su cnmarafiada barba, le seguia silencioso
al paso de su pollino pidiendo al cielo que les deparase en brève un buen parador donde
podcr descansar al fresco y pasar una buena noclie, que harto estaba ya de dormir al
rase.
Notô de pronto el buen Sancho que su anio y seùor se alzaba sobre los cstribos
y se colocaba à modo de visera la mano sobre la frente, y, temiendo un nuevo desa-
guisado, del mismo géncro de los que lantas veces le habian obligado ;i correr hacia
atràs para poner en salvo su pellejo, hizo esfuerzos inaudilos para alcanzar al errante
caballero preso en la red de los encantos de la hermosa Dulcinea del Toboso.
Don Quijote, inmovil, seguia escrutando el horizonte con los ojos fijos en un punto
apenas perceptible, de donde se eievaba tenue espiral de humo, y, por mas que San-
cho, ([ue al fin habia logrado alcanzarle, tralô de convencerle de que el humo aquel
procedia de los hogares de alguna banda de carboneros ([ue en la soledad de los canipos
ejercian paciflcamente su modesta industria, él seempeno en que se Irataba de infâmes
gnomos que fundian los lesorosarraricados al centro delà tierra, y que aquellaera una
ocasion que se presentaba que ni pintiparada [)ara, haciendo prodigios de valor, procu-
rarse joyas espléndidas que of'recer à la seùora de sus pensamientos, si esta à su
vez se dignaba favorecerle aceptàndolas.
Inùtil fué que Sancho insistiese ; con la palabra en la boca y el asombro mâs grande
se quedô el infeli/ viendo que Don Quijote se aseguraba en la silla, se calaba la visera
de carton, y lanza en ristre se partia como un raye hacia el lugar donde el humo se
alzaba.
Voir les textes dans le n" du 5 no\embre 1907.
[335] SUPPLÉMENT oS
Con la boca abierla se qticdaron los carboneros, pues de carbonaros como niuy bien
habia dicho Sancho se Irataba y no de gnomos, ante la repenlina é inopinada apariciôn,
pero su sorpresa fué mucho mayor cuando oyeron los discursos que, el que en un
principio habian fomado por un a.parecido, les ténia. Don Quijote les trataba muy
formalmente de bribones, y por m;'is que casi todos ellos estaban afcitados, les amena-
zaba con arrancarles uno à uno todos los hilos de sus blancas y luengasbarbassi al instante
no desbarataban los montecillos con tierra construidos para mejor fundir sus tesoros, y
anadiendo que, si no le obedecian, después de haberles dejado mondos y lirondos, él
niismo se encargaria de destruirlo todo.
Pretendieron los carboneros oponerse â los propositos del andante caballero, y para
evitarlos se armaron con piedras y estacas, pero Don Quijote, quien creyo que dudaban
de su poder y de su valor, cerrô contra uno de los montecillos y en él hundio furiosa-
mente su lanza, la cual, debido â la violencia del choque y también al fuego que en
el interior del montecillo ardia, se partio en dos pedazos cual si hubiese sido de
de cristal. Y no fué esto lo peor, sino que por el agujero salio inniediatamente una
llamarada vivisima que vino â tostar el hocico de Rocinante, y à la Uam^irada siguiô
un chorro de espeso hunio.
Rocinante, al sentir las caricias del fuego, se encabrilo y no se dio punto de repose
hasta haber conseguido que su caballero se apease por las orejas, y los carboneros.
viendo al jinete en tierra, dejaron caer sobre él una Uuvia de piedras que hubiese
bastado para destruir la m;is sôlida choza.
Con el cuerpo dolorido y acosado por todas partes, Don Quijote no tuvo m;is remedio
que salirse por el lado donde ordîa el fuego, y â no ser por la oportuna llegada de
Sancho que como siempre se habia quedado atrâs hasta ver desaparecido el peligro,
quizà hubiese muerto alli, asado y apedreado, el béroe delà inmortalobra de Cervantes.
Brevet supérieur.
Der Hund beifit, die Katze beiftt avich und kratzt mit iliren Krallen, das Pferd
versetzt Hufschliige, die Schlange beilit, die Biene sticht.
Der Schiller und die Schiilerin bringen in die Schule Hefte, Bûcher, Schreibmaterial
(Federhalter, Federn, Bleistifte, Tinte), Lineale, eine Federbiichse, usw.mit. Sie lesen in
den Biichern, schreiben mit Tinte, Feder oder Bleistift in die Hefte, spitzen die
Bleistifte mit einem Federmesser, linieren \ziehen Linien) mil deni Lineal, legen ihre
Bûcher, Hefte und sonstigen Schulsachen in einen Schulsacls., eine Schulmappe oder
einen Tornister.
In einer Fabrikstadt flindet man zahlreiche Fabriken, d. h. Werkstiitten, \vo Waren
A on vielen Arbeitern in grofèer Menge verfertigt werden. Es gibtHolz-,Eisen-, GJas-,
Papier-, Zucker-, Tuch-, SeidenstoCf-, VVaffenfabriken, usw, usw.
Eine Handelsstadt treibt einen vvichtigen Handel mit dem Aus- und dem Innenland;
sie kauft und verkauftdie verscliiedensten Erzeugnisse der Industrie.
Eine Hafenstadt liegt an der See. Unter Hafen versteht man eine Stelle an einer
Kûste, welche entneder durchdie Naturoder durch die K.unst gegen Sliirme geschûtzt.
ist, so dafi die SchifTe sicher daselbst liegen kunnen.
Eine Hauptstadt ist der Sitz des Oberhaupls, der Behorden einer Provinz oder eines
Staates.
Im Herbstbestelltipfliigtundeggtider LandniannseineFelder fur dieErntedesn;ichsten
Jahres. Die Kartoffeln werden eingeheimset. Man erntetApfel und andere Friichte ein .
{Aspirants, Grenoble, i''« session 1907.)
56 SUPPLÉMENT [336]
DEVOIRS PROPOSES
Certificat d'études primaires supérieures.
aBo§ mac^t tnan, tticnn man çitûfet v
28a§ ïuft mon in jBeuti(ï)lanb, ioenn jemanb an bie lïn ïIo|)ft ?
SBoiin gc'^t gegenltiavtig bie ©onre auf unb unter ?
SBomit unb loorum îoUen toir mifere .Qi3r)jeï bebeden?
2Bte finb bie Saume tm SSalb ? (in ben 4 ^a^ïe^Seiten).
(Aspirants, Alger, '2" ses\i()n 1!)il7.)
Narra re in tulle le sue fasi la storia di un pezzo di pane : i^ la sementa ; a^ la
mielitura ; o"» la batUtura ; h" raduzione del grano in farina ; B» il lavoro del fornaio.
{Ardèche, i^e session 1907.)
BIBLIOGRAPHIE
Georges Hkbeht. — L'Éducation physique raisonnée. i vol. in-8° de i85 pages,
orné de nombreuses illustralions (1907. Paris, Vuibert et Nony).
Comme le titre l'indique, l'ouvrage de M. Georges Hébert n'est pas un manuel de
gymnastique, ce n'est pas non plus un ouvrage purement théorique. C'est l'œuvre d'un
homme d'expérience qui a longuement réfléchi sur les méthodes de culture physique,
qui les a pratiquées toutes et qui nous oCFre, sans parti pris, le fruit de ses études
et d'un enseignement brillant et fécond.
La lecture de ce livre s'impose à tous les éducateurs soucieux du développement
physique de la jeunesse, à tous ceux qui ont besoin de guide en pareille matière, où
les compétences sont rares, aux soldats et aux futurs soldats.
Et bien d'autres encore seront heureux d'apprendre qu'à l'aide de quelques exerci-
ces simples et faciles, ils peuvent conserver ou retrouver la vigueur et l'agilité de leur
jeunesse.
» *
Albert Trombeut. — Souvenirs d'Alsace. 2' édition, 1907. i \ol. de 328
pages avec 25 illustralions (Paris, Librairie Chaix, 20, rue Bergère).
Ce livre est un pieux hommage rendu par un vieux Colmarien à sa ville natale,
qu'il aime avec passion. En un style familier, coloré, qui rappelle un peu la manière
d'Erckmann-Chatrian, il fait revivre la vieille cité d'Alsace, si pittoresque, si riche
de souvenirs, si amoureuse des traditions, si originale. Devant nous défilent, dans leurs
attitudes typiques, les figures les plus populaires, les plus caractéristiques de la ville qui
a vu naître Rapp et Bartholdi.
Ce livre, que M. Trombert a écrit avec son cœur, ne sera pas seulement lu de tous
les Colmariens — qui sans doute le connaissent déjà — et de tous les Alsaciens fidèles
au passé, mais aussi de tous les Français qui aiment l'Alsace, qui la connaissent ou
veulent la connaître et qui surtout ne peuvent se résoudre à l'oublier.
E.- Henri Bloch.
Bar-le-Duc. — Imprimerie Comte-Jacquet, Facdouel, Dir.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 8. 20 Janvier 1908. 8* Année.
SUPPLÉMENT
LES JEUX DES ENFANTS
Les jeux des petits ont occupé les grands, nous dit Max Brethfei.d dans
un intéressant article du Berliner Tageblalt, ils ont même occupé les phi-
losophes et les pédagogues, et Herbert Spencer, Schiller, Frubel, Lazarns
se sont demandé pourquoi les enfants aimaienttantàjouer. Peut-être serait-
il bon d'essayer de répondre à cette question en faisant appel à Fexpérience
pratique et aux observations de tous les jours. Pierre Rosegger, le célèbre
écrivain styrien, parle dans un de ses livres des jouets de son enfance, qui
s'écoula dans un village perdu au milieu des bois. Son jouet favori fut
longtemps le papier. Son père était maladif, et fréquemment il se faisait
rapporter de la ville voisine des flacons de médicaments. Le petit Pierre
s'emparait bien vite du papier qui les enveloppait et des longues réclames
qui les entouraient. Chose plus grave, la fièvre du jeu entraîna tellement
l'enfant qu'il taillada non seulement les quittances d'impùts de son père,
mais encore le livre de prières d'une servante pieuse.
Et avec tout ce papier, l'enfant se mit un jour à bâtir Paris, la grande
capitale. Les maisons, une fois terminées, furent gentiment placées sur la
table. Mais il fallait peupler la ville. Autour du palais du roi, il planta des
sentinelles ; c'étaient des groseilles à maquereau. Puis, dans les rues, les
jolies dames se pressèrent en foule ; c'étaient des airelles rouges. Il y avait
aussi des hommes; c'étaient des myrtilles bleues. Et quand l'enfantent
joué pendant longtemps, il fit passer sur la ville impie un formidable
ouragan. Il souffla dessus à pleines joues et avec tant de vigueur que les
maisons s'écroulèrent par douzaines. Et il lui fallut reconstruire Paris. En
fin de compte, Pierre anéantit la capitale de fond en comble par un incen-
die. Et de cette façon, il ne fit pas que s'amuser avec des maisons, des
murs et des châteaux, il se donna la joie de créer, puis de détruire.
Cela ne lui eût pas été possible avec la plus jolie ville achetée dans un
magasin de jouets. Et jîuis jamais ces maisons et ces châteaux n'auraient
égalé en splendeur les monuments que son imagination lui faisait voir
derrière ces simples symboles de papier.
Car « l'imagination se flétrit et s'appauvrit en face de la réalité trop
riche » (Jean Paul). Quand l'enfant joue avec des matières premières très
simples, du papier, du carton, des bouts de bois, de petits bâtons, des
bobines, des bouchons, de la terre glaise, il est obligé de se mettre en
frais d'imagination. Au charme de jouer avec ce qu'il a fait lui-même, se
joint le charme aussi grand d'avoir produit et créé. 11 acquiert en même
[48] suppL. 8
58 SUPPLÉMENT [378]
temps une cerlaine liabileté manuelle, il apprend à regarder, et aura
ainsi le sens des formes et des couleurs ; il développe sa raison spécula-
tive et surtout son imagination créatrice. C'est cette imagination qui trans-
porte l'enfant du monde de la réalité dans un monde bien plus beau, qu'il
a inventé et rêvé ; c'est elle qui change, recrée, anime, vivifie toutes les
choses et qui produit toujours du nouveau. Iveller nous en a donné un
exemple dans sa plus charmante nouvelle, Roméo et Juliette au village.
Le vieux corps de poupée de Salis et de Bronelis est tout d'abord un
enfant qu'on promène dans une voiture. Puis la poupée se transforme en
reine assise sur un trône de chardons ; puis elle sert de cible à Salis, qui
veut s'essayer à tirer ; la cible devient une balle à jouer; enfin on l'éventre
pour voir ce qu'il y a dedans. Et quand il ne reste plus que la tête, c'est
d'elle qu'on s'occupe. Elle sert de pot pour contenir le son qui s'échappe
du corps, de cage pour un gros bourdon, et enfin c'est un cercueil qu'on
descend dans une fosse. Cette façon d'interpréter, de transfigurer, de
recréer la réalité, d'en faire une illusion est ce qui donne au jeu son plus
grand intérêt, ce qui provoque le plus vif sentiment de plaisir. C'est
pourquoi l'enfant aime à jouer avec un petit banc de bois. Ce banc est
tour à tour une voiture, un bateau, un siège de cocher, une boutique,
une écurie, un appareil de photographe, un bouclier pour le combat.
C'est pourquoi encore il aime les jeux de construction, parce que la
possibilité de donner à leurs différentes parties des formes et des buts
multiples est presque aussi inépuisable que l'imagination enfantine. Et
quand on offre à l'enfant des jouets mécaniques qu'il doit se contenter de
remonter, puis de regarder, il les met bientôt dans un coin, ou bien il
les démolit pièce à pièce, car, tels ([uels, ils sont toujours pareils et n'oc-
cupent ni ses mains, ni son intelligence, ni son imagination. On s'expli-
que maintenant l'irrésistible attraction que l'eau, les tas de sable, le
mastic exercent sur l'enfant. Toutes ces choses, au lieu de comprimer
son imagination, lui ouvrent le champ le plus vaste et lui donnent
l'occasion dos manifestations les plus diverses.
De toutes les occupations de la vie de l'enfant, le jeu est celle où ses éner-
gies et ses dispositions naturelles se montrent le plus et le plus librement.
Tous les instincts s'y développent : l'instinct d'imitation, de mouve-
ment, de sociabilité, de combativité, de conservation, d'où il résulte que
le jeu est aussi nécessaire pour l'épanouissement complet de l'enfant que
la respiration cl la nutrition, que le repos et l'action.
On a si bien compris, en Allemagne, l'importance du jeu et des jouets
personnels qu'on a fait, il y a quelque temps, une exposition de jouets fabri-
qués par les enfants tout seuls ou guidés par leurs parents etleurs maîtres.
On put y admirer toutes sortes de jouets. Tout d'abord, des silhouettes
pleines de vie, paraît-il, découpées par un enfant de six ans. Et comme
l'organisateur de l'exposition doutait de leur autlionlicilé, le jeune artiste
en découpa une devant lui. Puis des navires de guerre faits en bouts de
bois, avec des canons en bouchons, construits par la fille d'un sculpteur,
âgée de onze ans.
Un enfant de treize ans, d'après une carte postale illustrée, avait
construit, avec une sorte de mastic, l'hôtel de ville de Harbourg.
Les jouets fabriqués sous l'œil des parents et des maîtres étaient natu-
rellement les meilleurs.
[379] SUPPLÉMENT 59
Les résultats obtenus dans les classes d'enfants arriérés ont été parti-
culièrement remarquables. Il y a là un moyen de les occuper sans les fati-
guer. En France, clans nos écoles maternelles, on a fait à ce point de vue
beaucoup de progrès. Tous les éducateurs se préoccupent maintenant des
jeux, les parents peut-être moins.
Ils se contentent, au moment de Noël et des étrennes, de courir les
magasins, d'en rapporter les jouets les plus beaux, les livres les mieux
habillés, sans se demander si la petite âme de l'enfant sera satisfaite de
leur choix. Plus d'une maman, pourtant, a vu sa fille serrer sur son cœur,
avec une tendresse infinie, un moignon informe, pendant qu'une poupée
grande dame dort dans un lit modem style. N'est-ce pas là une indication ?
Tous les parents qui reconnaissent la haute valeur éducatrice du jeu doi-
vent donner à leurs enfants de quoi jouer vraiment, puis le temps déjouer.
Ils n'ont qu'à mettre à leur disposition une grande table de bois sur laquelle
les enfants pourront clouer, cartonner, construire, détruire, et surtout un
endroit bien éclairé, où, sans crainte d'être grondés, ils s'amuseront tant
qu'ils voudront et comme ils le voudront.
E.-H. B.
IINFORimONS
Peuvent faire subir, pendant l'année 1908, les épreuves de la licence es let-
tres correspondant à la série des langues et littératures étrangères vivantes, les
Facultés des lettres des Universités ci-après désignées :
Université de Paris. — Allemand, anglais, espagnol, italien.
Université d'Aix-Marseille. — Allemand, italien.
Université de Besançon. — Allemand.
Unisersité de Bordeaux. — Allemand, anglais, espagnol, itaUen.
Université de Caen. — xUlemand, anglais.
Université de Clermont. — Allemand.
Université de Dijon. — Allemand.
Université de Grenoble. — Allemand, anglais, italien.
Université de Lille. — Allemand, anglais.
Université de Lyon. — Allemand, anglais, italien.
Université de Montpellier. — Allemand, anglais, espagnol, italien.
Université de Nancy. — Allemand, anglais.
Université de Poitiers. — Allemand, anglais.
Université de Rennes. — Allemand, anglais.
Université de Toulouse. — Allemand, anglais, espagnol.
NOMINATIONS UNIVERSITAIRES
— Du 7 novembre 1907. —
Collège de Menton. — M. Laclavère est chargé des fonctions de professeur
d'allemand au collège de Menton.
60 SUPPLÉMENT [380]
— Du 4 décembre. —
Lycée de Foix. — M. Rimey est nommé professeur chargé de cours d'espagnol
au lycée de Foix.
— Des 28 novembre et 16 décembre. —
Sont nommés professeurs de langues vivantes :
Au collège d'Epernay, M"« Netter (allemand) ;
Au collège de Roubaix, M"*^ Pellet (anglais) ;
Au collège d'Aurillac, M"« Sigaud (chargée de cours d'anglais) ;
Au collège de Fécamp, M"« Log.-vn (anglais).
— Du 23 décembre. —
Faculté des lettres de Montpellier. — M. Ray, agrégé des langues vivantes,
professeur d'allemand au lycée de ^lontpcUier, est chargé, en outre^ du ifr
janvier au 3o octobre 1908, de faire, par semaine, deux leçons de langue
allemande.
SUJETS D'EXAMENS ET COiNCOUKS
Agrégation d'aliemanfli (1907).
Thème.
Florence.
Un beau ncu\e aux eaux claires, lâché çà et là par des bandes de gravier blanc,
coule le long d'un quai superbe. Des maisons qui semblent des palais, modernes et
pourtant monumentales, lui font une bordure. Dans le lointain, on aperçoit des arbres
qui verdissent, un doux et joli paysage, pareil à ceux des climats tempérés; plus loin,
des sommets arrondis, des coteaux; plus loin encore, un amphithéâtre de rocs sévères.
Florence est dans une vasque de montagnes, comme une figurine d'art au centre
d'une grande aiguière, et sa dentelure de pierre sargenteavec des teintes d'acier sous les
reilets du soir. On suit la rivière et on arrive au parc. Le vert naissant, la teinte délicate
des peupliers lointains, ondule avec une douceur charmante sur le bleu des montagnes.
Une haute futaie, des haies épaisses et toujours vertes défendent le promeneur contre le
vent du nord. Il est si doux, aux approches du printemps, de se sentir pénétre par les
premières tiédeurs du soleil ! L'azur du ciel luit magnifiquement entre les branches
bourgeonnantes des hêtres, sur la verdure pâle des chènes-verts, sur les aiguilles bleuâtres
des pins. Partout, entre les troncs gris où la sève s'é\eille, sont des bouquets d'arbustes
qui n'ont point subi le sommeil de l'hiver, et la jeunesse des pousses nouvelles va
s'unir à leur jeunesse vivace, pour remplir les allées de couleurs et de senteurs. Des
lauriers fins comme dans un tableau profilent sur la rive leurs tètes sérieuses, et l'Arno,
tranquillement épandu, développe dans la rougeur du couchant ses nappes pourprées,
reluisantes.
On sort de la ville et l'on monte sur quelque éminence pour embrasser d'un regard
la ville et sa vallée, toute la coupe arrondie autour d'elle : rien de plus riant ; le bien-
être et le bonheur s'y marquent de toutes parts. Des milliers de maisons de campagne
la parsèment de leurs points blancs; on les voit monter, de coteau en coteau, jusqu'au
bord des cimes. Sur toutes les pentes, les têtes des oliviers moutonnent comme un trou-
peau sobre et utile ; la terre est soutenue par des murs et forme des terrasses ; la main
intelligente de l'homme a tourné tout vers le profit et en même temps vers la beauté.
Le sol ainsi disposé prend une forme architecturale, les jardins se groupent en étages
parmi des bakistres, des statues et des tjassins. Point de grands bois, aucun luxe de
végétation abondante; ce sont les yeux du Nord qui, pour se repaître, ont besoin de la
mollesse et de la fraîcheur universelle de la vie végétale; l'ordonnance des pierres suffit
I. Il est accordé 4 heures pour le thème et la version, et 7 heures pour les autres
compositions. Les candidats ne peuvent faire usage de dictionnaires ni de lexiques.
[381 I SUPPLÉMENT 61
aux Italiens, et la montagne, qui est voisine, leur fournit à souhaitles plus belles dalles,
blanches ou bleuâtres, d'un ton fin et sobre. Ils les disposent noblement en lignes
symétriques ; la maison sous sa devanture de marbre, luit dans l'air libre, accompagnée
de quelques grands arbres toujours verts. On y est bien pour se reposer l'hiver au soleil,
l'été à l'ombre, oisif et laissant ses yeux errer sur la campagne.
ÏAiNE [Voyage en Italie) .
Version.
Prolog zur Nietz5che-Gede!«kfeier der Literariscken Gesellschaft in IIambdrg.
Er fuhr voriiber, hellen Angesichtes,
Der Tod. aïs ging's zu einer [loclizeitsfeier.
Wohin.^ Wem neidest du das Gluck des Lichtes,
Du mit der Hast des beutefrohen Geiers ?
Ein kurzer Blick, er hemmte seinen Flug
Und stand.
Hast? Immer hab ich Zeit genug.
Ein Slundchen frûher oder spiiter ziihlt
Dem Fréter \vohl,der sich die Braut erwiihlt ;
Der Schnitler, dem das Korn entgegendampft
in satter Reife, nimmt sich Zeitziim ScliJirfen,
Und, liissiger noch, der Mùller, ders zerstampft,
Er kann's atich morgen auf die Mùhle werfen.
Und ich, der Jiiger iiber ailes VVild,
Dem kein Gesetz und keine Schonzeit gilt —
Und doch, du fuhrst Avie ein verliebter Knabe,
Der nach des Miidchens sûl-iem Munde schmachtet.
Wer ist es? Wem bringst du die Ilochzeitsgabe?
Dem Genius, dessen Seele, halb umnachtet,
Den Tag vertriiumt, der ihm sonst Ernlen bot,
IN'ietzsche.
Und diesen Xamen nannt der Tod
Mit Ehrfurcht und mit Liebe. Und er wand
Sich ab und schied. Ein Biitz fuhr libers Land.
Die Trauerglocken, die in Weimar klangen,
RIagten : Nietzsche ist heimgegangen.
Ein kûhner Flieger, Freund von alten Winden,
Ein fréter Vogel ûber hochste Wipfel,
Ein Segier iiber Meere, iiber Gipfel,
Nichts kann ihm seine slolzen Fiiigel binden.
ba lahrt ein Blilz dem Starken ins Gefieder
Und stûrzt ihn nieder.
Die Kleinen, die der Groi-ien Flug beneiden,
Die kleine Heckenzunft — das gab ein Sclnvalzen.
Er war gestraft. Das Uecht blieb bei den Spatzen :
Wir sind gesund, wir konnten uns bescheiden,
Wir ilogen nur um unsre Fulterplatze^
Wir kluge Miiize.
Das schlimme Lied vom Genius und der Menge,
Die Schritt vor Schrilt mit tausend Fiilien tastet,
Indcssen er auf slillen Bergen rastet,
Einsam, hoch ûber Enge und Gedriinge,
Zu Klugen rustel, die aiif Sehnsuchlsschwingen
Ziir Sonne dringen.
Und nun hinaus, liinauf ! Da hemmt kein Zagen.
Der Himmel lockt mit seinen Wunderweiten.
Das ist ein selig, stûrmiscli Fiiigelbreiten.
Ihr Winde aile, Freunde, kommt, mich tragen !
Vom Berg zur Wolke. Durch! Und dort, in Fernen,
Lockt Steru zu Steriien.
62 SUPPLÉMENT 13821
O Gluck! o LustI o Flug nach goldnen Kiisten !
ïief unten rauscht das Meer und tùrmt die Wogen.
Du ungeberdige FJut. der ich entllogen,
Will es nach ïod und Trûmmern dich geliisten?
Das tiefe Grollen deines Zorns klingl scli'iii
In meinen Huhn.
Du fangst mich nicht! Soll dièse Kraft vergehen,
So sel es an der Sonne Feuerherzen,
Das wiir ein Sterben, Avliren Gollerschmerzen :
Fliegen und schon in Todesllammen stehen.
— Da fiihrt ein Blitz dem Slarken ins Gefieder
Und slùrzt ihn nieder.
Die Trauerglocken, die in A^'eimar klangen,
Klaglen : Ein Held ist heimgegangen.
Ein Held und ein Eroberer. Burgen sanken
Auf seinem Weg in Triimmcrn, Tempel slurzlen
Und Opfersteine rings, \vo die Gewolinlieit
lu dumpfer Andacht kniete. Er A\ar liart
Und ging den Weg der Helden mitleidlos,
Zerschlug Allare, wo auch er geopferl,
Zertrat die Giirtea seincr Jugendspiele
Und ging von seinen Freunden, die er lieble,
Treulos, um nur in einem treu zu sein :
Treu seinem Willen, der zur Wabrheit woUte.
Und hiirter ward sein Schwert mit jedeni Schiag.
Wo ist die Hiirte, die ihm Irolzen niag ?
Da zuckt ein Blitz. Der hartc Slalil zerspelll,
Und sch^ertlos fiillt der todessieclie Held.
Guslav Falke.
Dissertation française.
Gregorovius, commentant le « Chant du Départ », dans les Wanderjahre de Gœlhe ',
s'exprime ainsi : « Es ist dies das BcwuBlsein von der W'eltbcfrciung und NVelterlusung
libeihaupt durch dieArbeit Dies haben sclion die Griechen, die ailes vorahnenden,
iii der Mythe vom Herkules dargestellt ; Gœllie aber zwiefach im h'aust und im WiUielm
Meister. » Que pensez-vous de cette appréciation ?
Dissertation allemande.
Die Kunslanschauungen der Nazarener.
Baccalauréat Sciences-Langues (juillet 1907).
{Matières à développer. — Temps accordé : :> heures.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
BooKs.
1. Were Ihere books before the invention of printing?
2. When, where, and by whom Avas printing invented?
3. Importance of this invention.
II. Describe: a) a printing-house; b) a library.
5. What are your favourite books and why?
[Nancy.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Die Bestimmung dku Glocke'-.
Kirchliche Bedeutung : Taufe, Trauung, Begriibiiis.
Weltliche Beslimmung : Verkûnderin eines Ungliicks (Feuersnot, Volksaufstand),
I. Bleibe nicht am Boden heften,
Frisch gewagt und frisch hinaus
2. Nous donnerons dans un n° ultérieur le développement de ce sujet.
[383j SUPPLÉMENT 63
Friediiche Zwecke : Einleilung der Zeit. — Eindnick den sie in jcdcm lall auf m s
vvirkt. {Poitiers.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
, Among your frierids or comrades, tlicre must Le one thaï you prêter lo ail otliers.
Who is he?
How long hâve you knoun him ?
How did you become acquainled with him? Defcribe him, his cliaracler, insisting on
those qualilies whieh please you most in him.
With AAhat dear rememhrances (days spent togelher, excursions made with iiim,
pleasures shared) is he associated in your memory ?
Do you agrée with what you may hâve read in your aulhors on friendship, Ihe scar-
city of real friands, and Ihelr value? [Poitiers.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
Describanse los varios modos de locomociôn que hoy se usan lel andar â pie, el
caballo, la biciclela, el coche, el automi'>vil, el barco), y digase : ciiàl se prefiere, y por
que. [Poitiers.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
(Pour un candidat à t' séries.}
Describase, con términos générales, una corrida de toros en una plaza :
A. El paseo; entra el matador, seguido de su cuadrilla. El alguacil.
B. Suerte de vara. Los picadores. Un quite.
C. Suerte de banderillas. Citar â banderillas. Un capeo. Banderiilas de fuego.
D. Suerte de matar. El matador. La espada y la muleta.
E. El puntillero. Las mvilillas.
Hâblese lambiéii del aspecto de la plaza, de los trajes de los toreros, y. s. a.
[Poiliers.)
Composition en langue vivante.
Au siège de Sébaslopol, pendant une nuit du terrible hiver de i855, un jeune officier
dartillerie chargé du commandement d'une batterie avec ordre exprès de rester sur la
défensive, ne savait comment préserver ses hommes des dangers du froid, de l'engour-
dissement, de l'obscurité. Près de succomber lui-même à la torpeur, il se met soudain
à réciter à haute vois les belles scènes du Cid. Un officier d'artillerie lui répond de la
tranchée voisine. Les soldats l'écoutent et s'exaltent. Au beau cri : « Paraissez. Navar-
rais », un grand bruit se fait entendre. Les Russes avaient cru surprendre la petite
troupe endormie, mais ils sont repoussés et les vainqueurs achèvent la scène de Cor-
neille. [Piennei.:
DEVOIRS CORRIGÉS
"Version anglaise'.
Chassant le daim, je l'ai trouvé assis au bord d'une source; pour apaiser sa soif, il
empruntait à la naïade quelques gouttes d'eau qu'il lui rendait en larmes. Auprès de
lui était placée une guirlande faite par lui-même de beaucoup de ileurs de toutes
sortes, nées dans la vallée, et disposées dans un ordre mystique dont l'originalité me
charma; mais chaque fois que vers elles il tournait ses doux yeux, il pleurait, comme
s'il eût voulu leur rendre la vie. Voyant sur son visage tant de gentillesse, tant de
faiblesse et d'innocence, je lui demandai de me dire toute son histoire. Il me raconta
que ses parents, si bons, étaient morts, le laissant à la merci des champs, qui lui don-
naient des racines; à la merci des fontaines de cristal, qui n'arrêtaient pas leur cours;
à la merci du soleil, qui, il l'en remerciait, lui donnait toujours sa lumière. Ensuile
I . Voir le texte dans le n" du 20 octobre 1907.
64 SUPPLÉMENT [384]
il prit sa guirlande, et m'expliqua ce que, d'après les paysans, chaque fleur signifiait,
et comment, ainsi ordonnées, elles exprimaient sa douleur; il me fit, à mon avis, la
plus jolie leçon que l'on puisse désirer sur son art champêtre, si jolie que je l'aurais
volontiers apprise. Je fus heureux de lui proposer d'être mon serviteur, et il fut heu-
reux de me suivre, et c'est ainsi que j'ai le plus fidèle, le plus aimant, le plus aima-
ble page qui ait jamais été au service d'un maître.
Rédaction allemande '.
^ct 9tl)etnftv0m.
Sieï îeutfc^e mag n)oï)t auf feinen SR^einftrom ftotj fein ; ni(ï)t ouf feinc ©roBe : Utele
anbexe ©tromc, ieltift euiopaijc^e, ûBeïtreffen iï)n ttiett an Songe, Sreite, aSafjerfûUe, on
toïofiaïeï ?tu§be'^nung iî)re§ tV)eï)iet§ ; ntd)t einem oïier ift ein jo ebïe§ (Sïienma^ ïiefdjiebcn,
\o ïtc^tige $>eï^Untffe, fo Oollftdnbtge gntwicftung ; nic§t etner fie'^t an feinen llfern auf
gkti^e aCeife lîunft unb îflatur, gefc^idjtUi^e grtnnerung unb ïebenbige ©egenttjatt bcretnt.
^n bem er^a6enften uub î)erdic()ften ^Jîitteïgebicte heê mac^tigen 2tlpengi'irtel§ ^angen an
'^tmmelf|ot)en gelêgipfeïn nte^r al§ breifiunbert ©tetid)er, toelc^e bem 3îï)etne i^re coUen,
totienben Csjctuaffer jufcuben. 2Bo fie auy bem ©cliirge ï)eruoïtveteu, ha beru'^igen unb
Xautern firf) biefe ungefti'imen ?n^3enfoî)ne in etloa fiinf^e^u bev gvo^ten unb fcï)onften Seen,
— unevgiunbltd^en, fmaragbenen 33eden, X)\ex bon unerfUmmBaten gclfen eingeengt, bott
Oon gîebenfji'igeïn unb griinen 5)tatten umhanjt, etner faft irie ha^ Wnn unabfePar ;
friftall()etle gluten entftïbmen biefen ©een in rafd^em, bocf) fc^on tuï)igercm Sauf. 58atb in
einem iBctte oermtfc^t, tuogen fie mnc()tig unb frieblid) ba()in, burc^ tac^enbe ^Çlutcn, an
ftattliti^eu ©(^Ibffern, ï)oî)en 3;omen, funftïeid)en, Iieleliten Stcibtcn Oovbci, benen fie teicf)c
Vaften jufiif)ïcn. §ot)c SBalbgebirge ttinîen lange au§ ïtlauer gerne, fpiegeïn fi(^ bann in
bem "^errlicrjen Strom, bië er bie luette frijranfcnïofc (ybcne betxitt unb nun bem Scfjofee bcé
5Jteeïeô jueilt, tf)m indd)tige aSaficrfpcnbcn ju bvingen unb fic^ bafiir in f einem ©ebict ein
neue§ £anb ju erbaucn.
3tn ben SBicgeu be§ SfieinS erïlingen bie ©cfange armer, aber fréter unb frofjcr 4iiïtcn ;
an feinen 'OMnbungcn jimmcrt ein eben fo fretc§, babet reid)c§, !unftfinnige§, gemerbfteifitgca,
untcrnefimenbeë 9}o(î feine fcfjwimmenben §aufer, loelc^c bie fernften £onber unb liîeere
befctjtffcn unb cinft be(}errf(ï)t ïjaben. ÎL'o ift ber ©trom, ber eine Scijltieij an feinen Cuellen,
ein .^otlanb an feinen ''JJU'inbungen ï)atte ? ben feine 33a'^n f o burc^ lauter frudjtbare, freic,
ge'bilbete l'anbîci)aften fiiljrte ï .riaben aubère wcit grbfjcïe 2Sofferfiille unb Srette, fo ïjat ber
9{f)etn tiare, immer ootte, fii-^ faft gteic^bleibeube 5^^"^^"' fo ift feine Sreite gerabe bie
red)tc, t)inreiiï;cnb fiir J$lofe unb ©c^iff, fiir aûen SBerteljr ber a>blfer, unb boc| nicf}t fo
grof3, baf} fie bie beiben Ufer non einanber fdjicbc, bafj nic^t ber erteuucnbe a^litï, ber laute
9{itf ungel)inbcrt ï)iniibcr reid^te. ^J]tad)tig unb cOrfurdjtgebietenb crfdjeint cr, aie ein bciucgtcr
ÎBaffcrfpiegel in ben ï)riterften 'Kaljtnen gefafjt, nic^t al§ eine lodffcrigc tbe mit nebeligen
llfern.
®er 9ft)cinftroin ift rcd)t etgentlid) ber Strom bcê mittleren (Suro^ia. %n feinen alpinifd)cn
Duellen begcgnen fid) ïBurgunb, italien, bn§ fiiblidje Seutfd)lanb. Seine o^eantidje 'i)Jicber=
ung fâiicbl firi} jmifd^cn ben 3iorben (^-rantreid)-;' unb bie (Sbenen bc§ altcn Sad}fenïanbe§ ein,
unb fi'tïirt }u ben britifd)en ^nfcln Ijiniiber. ^^tuê ber fc^bncn ©tromebene bc§ mittleren
9tl§eineâ, einem bcrg=ummauertcn 3e«tral--©ebiet, fiiïiren natiirltd)c aSafferftraBen burd)
ïange, enge gelfentore ju reidjen, î)errlid)cn i'anbfd^aften, tief in ba^ iuncrfte 2;eutfd)lanb
unb grantreid) f;inetn. 2)ie lilofel auf ber linîen, ber Wain auf ber redjtcn Seite oerbinben
granîen unb Sotfiringen. Sîcr 'lîfjetnftrom fclber abcr unb feine Ufer finb bie grofje Ç")anbel>3=
unb 9îeifeftrof5C 3tt)ifd^en ©iiben xinb 'Jîorben, sioifi^en §oUanb unb ber ©djtueij, gnglanb
unb italien, bie eine immer grbfjere 3:cbcutung crplt, je inniger unb lebenbigcr bie
3?eritOrungen aller 3lrt jloifdjen ben Derfdjicbencn G)ltebcrn bc§ europaifdjeu Staatenfl)ftem3
ttjcrben. ®. S. HJJeubelâfoljn.
Voir le texte dans le n° du 20 décembre 1907.
Bar-le-Duc. — Imprimerie Comte-Jacquet, Facdouel, Dir.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 9. 5 Février 1908. 8* Année.
SUPPLÉMENT
A PROPOS DU "SOUVENIR "
Le u souvenir » a suggéré à Ilermann Jaques {Berliner Tageblatl) quel-
ques réflexions pédagogiques qui pourront intéresser nos lecteurs.
« Le « souvenir » n'est pas pour tous un aimable fils du ciel ; son visage
est changeant, et ses mains dispensent indifféremment la joie ou la malé-
diction... Cela peut paraître paradoxal, mais le souvenir, pour ne pas
devenir un danger, doit être réglé dès la jeunesse : il y a une éducation
du souvenir.
Il ne faut jjas que le souvenir devienne de la mélancolie et un élégiaque
retour en arrière. Et c'est justement pendant nos jeunes années que nais-
sent les germes de notre future dépression morale.
On s'appliquera donc de bonne heure à empêcher l'enfant de jeter der-
rière lui un regard attristé. Qu'il contemple le présent, qu'il attende l'ave-
nir, mais qu'il pense aussi peu que possible au passé. Le milieu dans
lequel il vit est à ce point de vue de la plus grande importance.
La tristesse de la maison paternelle peut faire sentir son influence dépri-
mante sur toute une vie. Grillparzer en est un exemple frappant. Pendant
tout le cours de son existence, il a été soumis à l'influence annihilante de
souvenirs mélancoliques qui entravèrent chez lui l'essor poétique, et lui-
même se rendit parfaitement compte qu'il dut à une éducation mal dirigée
les ombres qui obscurcirent sa vie intellectuelle.
Un des moyens d'éducation les plus importants pour le souvenir est
naturellement la lecture, et les livres de contes sont encore et toujours au
premier rang lorsqu'il s'agit de former l'esprit de l'enfant. C'est là une
grave erreur, car le conte donne une tendance à la rêverie maladive et l'ima-
gination n'est que trop portée à édifier d'après eux un monde que les
enfants ne se consoleront jamais d'avoir perdu quand le grand soleil qui
illumine le midi de leur vie a chassé les images nébuleuses de leur enfance.
Le conte est un camarade dangereux, beaucoup plus dangereux que ceux
qui parfois volent une pomme ou fument en cachette un cigare. »
Tous les éducateurs trouveront comme M. Jaques que l'enfant doit
grandir dans la gaieté, dans la joie. Il faut que la maison paternelle soit
aimable, qu'il y respire une atmosphère de paix et de douceur. C'est pour
les parents un devoir impérieux, sacré, de secouer leurs soucis, de chasser
leurs tristesses et de n'en pas faire porter le poids à des êtres trop jeunes
encore pour connaître la souffrance ou la mélancolie. 11 faut que le souvenir
des jours d'enfance amène un sourire sur les lèvres de l'homme mûr et
fasse briller un rayon dans ses yeux.
[54] suppL. 9
66 SUPPLÉMENT [426]
Quant aux contes, bien peu pourront se résoudre à les proscrire et à leur
attribuer une influence aussi pernicieuse que le fait ?Iermann Jaques. Les
enfants aiment les contes et il ne faut pas les en priver sous prétexte de
leiir éviter une désillusion.
Et puisqu'il s'agit du « souvenir », les fées de notre enfance seront
certainement les souvenirs les plus gracieux et les plus purs de notre âge
mia- et de notre vieillesse.
Dans un charmant article de la Revue Bleue, Edmond Pjlon regrette
les contes et les conteuses d'autrefois :
« A peu près une fois par année, il y a un moment heureux pour les fées
et pour les ondines, pour les nains et pour les kobolds, c'est ce moment
délicieux de l'hiver où les forets ressemblent à de vieilles aïeules blanches,
où le bœuf et l'âne réchauffent de leur tiède haleine la paille de l'étable,
où il y a de petites bougies roses et de petites lanternes vertes suspendues
à de mignons sapins teintés de givre et de rosée. . . A présent on ne conte
plus de contes de fées aux tout petits. On leur donne de gros livres savants,
de pédantes images, de longs et fastidieux récits sans beauté.
Regrettons, avec M. Anatole France, l'habitude absurde qu'ont mainte-
nant les parents de retirer les contes de Perrault à leurs fils et à leurs filles.
Les contes sont une part du rêve ; ils ont leur poésie, leur signification,
leur morale. 11 faut les écouter. 11 faut écouter les bonnes grand'mamans
du passé qui en savaient de si passionnants : une d'Aulnoy, une Beaumont,
une Ségur. Celles-là avaient de bonnes mains d'aïeules, elles avaient des
voix douces et consolantes, elles s'entendaient mieux que toutes les grandes
savantes d'aujourd'hui à peupler de beaux songes les âmes et les yeux
étonnés des enfants, d
E.-IL B.
UN CERCLE FÉMININ INTERNATIONAL A PARIS
Un Lyceum Club, organisé sur le modèle de ceux de Londres et de Berlin, a
été inauguré à Paris le l\ décembre dernier. I^e Lyceum de Paris est composé de
deux sociétés ou de deux œuvres distinctes : une Association féminine d'encou-
ragement aux I^ettres, aux Arts, aux Sciences et aux Œuvres liumanitalres, et le
Cercle proprement dit. L'Association se propose d'aiderles artistes et les femmes
de lettres dans leurs travaux et de leur fournir le moyen de mettre leurs talents
en valeur par des expositions, des auditions musicales, des conférences. On établira
des rapports entre les auteurs et les traducteurs. La puissance de l'Association
ouvrira peut-être des portes qui resteraient fermées devant un efTort isolé. L'œu-
vre est internationale, et tous les Lyceums se tiennent et s'entr'aident : qui
fait partie de l'un est membre des autres et a droit à leur appui.
Quant au Cercle, il rendra des services pratiques. Son organisation est duc
au dévouement et à la générosité de Miss Alice Williams, qui trouvant que
ridée tardait trop à prendre forme a loué et meublé à ses frais le joli hôtel de
la rue de la Bienfaisance. Les adhérentes trouveront une bibliothèque, des jour-
naux, des revues, de paisibles salons de lecture ovi de repos, des salles de réunion
et de thé, un restavuant. Les étrangères ou les adhérentes de province, de pas-
sage à Paris, y pourront loger et s'éviter ainsi l'ennui de l'hôtel.
(Fcinina.)
[427 I SUPPLÉMENT 67
SUJETS D'EXAMENS ET CONCOURS
Agrégation d'anglais' (1907).
Thème .
Elle donna un coup d'oeil aux fauteuils assemblés devant la cheminôe, à la table à thé,
qui brillait dans l'ombre, et aux grandes gerbes pâles des ileurs, montant au-dessus des
vases de Chine. Elle enfonça la main dans les branches fleuries des obiers pour faire
jouer leurs boules argentées. Puis elle se regarda dans une glace avec une attention
sérieuse. Elle se tenait de côté, le cou sur l'épaule, pour suivre le jet de sa forme fine
dans le fourreau de satin noir autour duquel flottait une tunique légère, semée de
perles où tremblaient des feux sombres. Elle s'approcha, curieuse de connaître son
visage de ce jour-là. La glace lui rendit son regard avec tranquillité, comme si celte
aimable femme, qu'elle examinait et qui ne lui déplaisait pas, vivait sans joie aiguë et
sans tristesse profonde.
Aux murs du grand salon vide et muet les figures des tapisseries, vagues comme des
ombres, pâlissaient parmi leurs jeux antiques, en leurs grâces mourantes. Comme elles,
les statuettes de terre cuite élevées sur des colonneltes, les groupes de vieux Saxe et les
peintures de Sèvres, étages dans les vitrines, disaient des choses passées. Sur un socle
garni de bronzes précieux, le buste de marbre de quelque princesse royale, déguisée en
Diane, le visage chiffonné, la poitrine audacieuse, s'échappait de sa draperie tourmentée,
tandis qu'au plafond une Nuit, poudrée comme une marquise et entourée d'Amours,
semait des fleurs. Tout sommeillait et l'on n'entendait que le pétillement du feu et le
bruissement léger des perles dans la gaze.
S'étant détournée de la glace, elle alla soulever le coin d'un rideau et vit par la
fenêtre, à travers les arbres noirs du quai, sous un jour blême, la Seine traîner ses
moires jaunes. L'ennui du ciel et de l'eau se réfléchissait dans ses prunelles d'un gris
fin. Le bateau passa, 1' « Hirondelle », débouchant d'une arche du pont de l'Aima et
portant d'humbles voyageurs vers Grenelle et Billancourt. Elle le suivit du regard tandis
qu'il dérivait dans le courant fangeux, puis elle laissa retomber le rideau et, s'étant
assise à son coin accoutumé du canapé, sous les buissons de fleurs, elle prit un livre
jeté sur la table, à portée de sa main. Sur la couverture de toile paille brillait ce titre
en or : Yseult la Blonde, par Vivian Bell. C'était un recueil de vers français composés
par une Anglaise et imprimés à Londres. Elle l'ouvrit et lut au hasard :
Quand la cloche, faisant comme qui chante et prie.
Dit dans le ciel ému : ^< Je vous salue Marie »,
La vierge en visitant les pommiers du verger
Frissonne d'avoir vu ^enir le messager
Qui lui présente un lys rouge et tel qu'on désire
Mourir de son parfum sitôt qu'on le respire.
La vierge au jardin clos, dans la douceur du soir
Sent l'âme lui monter aux lèvres, et croit voir
Couler sa vie ainsi qu'un ruisseau qui s'épanche
En limpide filet de sa poitrine blanche.
Elle lisait, indifférente, distraite, attendant ses visites et songeant moins à la poésie
qu'à la poétesse, cette miss Bell qui était peut-être son amie la plus agréable et qu'elle
ne voyait presque jamais; qui, à chacune de leurs rencontres si rares, l'embrassait en
l'appelant « darling », lui donnait brusquement du bec sur la joue, et gazouillait ; qui,
laide et séduisante, presque un peu ridicule et tout à fait exquise, vivait à Fiesole en
esthète et en philosophe, cependant que l'Angleterre la célébrait comme sa poétesse la
plus aimée.
Anatole France.
Version.
Hogarth excepled, can we produce any one painter wllhin the last fifty years, or
since the humour of exhibiting began, Ihat bas trealed a story iiiiaginativelij ? By this
we mean upon «hom his subject lias soacted Ihat ithas seemed to direct hini, not to be
I. 11 est accordé i heures pour le thème et la version, et 7 heures pour les autres
compositions. Les candidats ne peuvent faire usage de dictionnaires ni de lexiques.
68 SUPPLÉMENT 1^28]
arrangée! by liim ? Any iipon whom ils leading or collatéral points hâve impressed
Iheinselves so tyrannically that lie dared not treat it otherwise lest he should falsify a
révélation ? Any tliat has imparted to liis compositions, not merely so much truth as
is enoiigh to conveya story withclearness, but that individualising property vvhich should
keep the subject so treated distinct in feature from every other subject, however sinii-
lar, and to common appréhensions almost identical; so as that we niight say. ïhis and
this part could hâve found an appropriale place in no other picture in the world but
this ? Is there anything in modem art — ^\c will not demand that it should be equal
— but in any way analogous to what Titian lias effected in that wonderful bringing
together of two tinies in the " Ariadne " in the National Gallery ? Precipitous, with
his reeling satyr routabout him, repeopling and reilluming suddenly the waste places,
drunk with a new fury beyond the grape, Bacchus, boni in fire, firelike ilings himself
at the Cretan. This is the time présent. With this telling of the story, an artist, and no
ordinary one, might remain richly proud. Guido, in his harmonious version of it, saw no
farlher. But from the depths of the Imaginative spirit Titian has recalled past time, and
laid itcontributory with the présent toone simultaneous elFect. With the désert ail ringing
wilh the mad cymbals of his foUowers, made lucid with the présence and new offers of
a god, as if unconscious of Bacchus, or but idly casting her eyes as upon some uncon-
cerning pageant — her soûl undistracted from Theseus — Ariadne is still pacing the
solilary shore in as much heart silence, and in almost the same local solitude, with
which she awoke at daybreak to catch the forlorn last glances of thesail that bore away
the Atlienian.
Ilere are two points miraculously co-uniting ; fierce society with the feeling of soli-
tude still absolule; noonday révélations wilh the accidents of the duU grey dawn
unquenched and lingering ; lUe présent Bacchus with tlie past Ariadne — two stories
with double time, separate and harmonising. llad the artist made the woman one
shade less indiffèrent to the god ; still more, had she expressed a rapture at lus advent,
where would hâve been the story of the miglity désolation of the heart previous ?
Merged in the insipid accident of a tlattering offer met with a welcome acceplance. The
broken heart for Theseus was not lightly to be pieced up by a god.
Charles Lamb.
Dissertation française.
La verve comique de Ben Jonson étudiée surtout dans " Bartholomew Fair '.
Dissertation anglaise.
The sources and originalitv of Ruskin's social ideals.
Concours pour l'emploi d'élève commissaire de la
marine (19()7).
[Langue anglaise (tliènieel version). — Temps accordé : 3 heures.]
Thème anglais.
^lORT DE MaSASIGiNÉ.
Masasigné fit de nouveau déployer son étendard. 11 compta autour de lui quatre cents
combattants qu'il disposa autour d'une maison isolée. La troupe, entourée maintenant de
tous côtés, fut attaquée à seize reprises. A deux heures de l'après-midi, Masasigné entra
dans la maison avec les douze parents et les soixante soldats qui lui restaient ; il ôta
son armure et compta onze blessures sur son corps ; tous ses compagnons étaient, comme
lui, hors d'état de se défendre. A ce moment, entra un messager de Takaoudzi. 11
souhaitait voir Masasigné conserver la vie. Il allait faire retirer ses troupes et laisser le
chemin libre; il ne demandait rien en retour. Masasigné répondit fièrement que là oia
[429] SUPPLÉMENT 69
il voulait passer, il s'ouvrait le chemin lui-même. Il s'assit ensuite avec calme au milieu
de ses compagnons. Tous jurèrent de revenir sur terre exciter la haine des rebelles
chez leurs descendants jusqu'à la septième génération, puis ils se percèrent de leurs
sabres. Ainsi mourut, à l'âge de quarante-trois ans, celui que le Japon regarde comme
son plus grand guerrier et le palais comme le plus fidèle sujet du Mikado.
Version anglaise.
Le commerce des neutres;
In ancient times, tlie neutral was very little inconvenienced if his trade got mixed
with the designs of the belligerents. No one lived to give the neutral's version of the
matter : and piracy was so common tliat the disappearance of a mercliant sliip more
or less evolied no surprise. In later times, the neutral sliip had learned complacency
before the belligerents, and its status was in any case that of a stockade-runner.
Unless the case was very llagrant, interférence with neutrals provoked no comment : it
was accepled as part of llie elcrnal order of Ihings.
To-day this is in no way accepted, and in addition, counlries are knit by trade rela-
tions of an inlimacy tliat is of quite modem origin. Por instance, Great Britain and
America are connected by innumerable commercial ties, so interwoven in many cases
that it is almost impossible to disentangle them. Instantly the scène would bristle with
délicate international complications — a terrible handicap upon any power warring
against British commerce. The incessant clashing with the interests of a powerful neu-
tral would be a most serious handicap — how serious it is impossible to détermine
until it is attempted. At its mildest, it could never be neglected; at its greatest it
might render war on British commerce abortive. There are not wanting indications
that neutral powers will only submit to tiie existence of a war on commerce in view of
the fact that they may one day require to carry on such a war, or that they are
gaining by it.
DEVOIR CORRIGÉ
Baccalauréat.
Mostrerele rinibisso di fioina e dell' Italia sopra la Francia :
1" neWanlichità ; a» nel medio Evo ; 3" nei tempi moderni.
Paiiereie délia linyua, délia letteratura, délie belle arti.
(Aix,juillel 190:
Gentro del pensiero moderne, luminoso faro dicivilità, Parigi irraggia ora il suo pen-
siero pe! mondo, e non vi è iniziativa géniale non grande scoperta, non nuova forma
d'arte che non trovi in essa, se non il nascimento, almeno la eco più forte e simpatica.
Tuttavia la grande e gcnerosa nazione di Francia non ha dimenticato mai tutto ciô
che attraverso i secoli ella ha attinto dall' Italia e la larga crédita che le viene dall'
antica madré Roma.
Prima di tutto la sua lingua, la sua lingua cosi bella, cos'i élégante e llessuosa, che
sa dire in tutti i modi tulte le cose più gentili o più profonde, essa la riconosce
dall'antico ceppo italico, svoltosi direttamente da quel latino popolare e castrense che
le legioni di Cesare importarono nella Gallia circa un secolo avanti Cristo, sorella
perciù — pur nella sua originàlità e dilTerenziazione — ail' italiano, al portoghese,
allô spagnolo :
faciès non omnibus una
nec diversa tamen, qualem decet esse sororum.
70 SUPPLÉMENT [430]
Ne la sola lingtia le vinte provincle xoresero dai vincitori, ma, colla lingua, tulta la
civiltà accuimilata in Roma da secoli, fecondata dal lungo contatlo colla Gracia, afflui
nelle provincie conquistate, e già al tempo di Augusto, Plinio poteva vantarsi che le sue
opère fossero conosciute in tutta la Gallia, ed eran celebri par tutto l'impero le scuole
di Autun, di Bordeaux e di Lione, e in brève èssc diedero tal fioritura di rètori e di
avvocati che Giovenale potè chiamare la Gallia « nutricula causidicoruni ».
Nella Gallia, a Bordeaux, l'imperatore Valentiniano cercô un maestro a suc figlio
Graziano e fu quel Magno Ausonio che vesti il lacticlavio sénatoriale e giunse fine alla
porpora consolare, e scrisse in verso ed in prosa dell' antica grandezza di Roma, e fece
suonare ancora una volta nel poetico idillio Mosplla il verso di CatuUo e d'Orazio.
E un Gallo — Rutilio CJaudio Namaziano — dovea, quasi cent' anni dopo, cantare
l'ultimo inno in onore délia gran madré, tra lo scalpitare dei cavalli visigoti e gli urli
dei barbari saccheggiatori ed incendiari.
Exaudi, Regina tui pulcherrima mundi
Inter sidereos Roma recepta polos ;
Obriierint citius scelerata oblivia solem ;
Quam tuus ex nostro corde recédât honos.
Ne le sole arti letterarie la Gallia aveva saputo assimilarsi, venendo a contalto délia
civiltà romana, ma anche le décorative; e cosi dallo stile classico nasceva la prima délie
arti medievali, detta appunto romanica o romnnza, e le porte di Saint-(iille e di Saint-
Trophime di Arles, fiorendo al dolce sole di Provenza, ricordavano con evidenza le scul-
lure dei sarcofaghi dei secolo V.
Giunge il mediocvo e grandi ténèbre sembrano scendere sulla umanilà : non più culte
di bcUezze naturali ed artistiche, ma ascetismo e terrore : le setfe arti sono offuscale e
régna la teologia. Fra queste ténèbre ancora una volta è dall' Italia che viene alla
Francia il primo raggio di sole, precursore e nunzio délia non lontana Rinascenza.
Con Francesco Petrarca, ambasciatore a Parigi di Galeazzo Visconti, col Decnmer one
dei Boccaccio tradolto e ritradotto in francese, un alito di vita nuova pénétra in Francia,
e subito dopo uno stuolo di volonterosi, quasi ridestandosi dal sonno, si slanciano verso
l'antichità, e per la prima volta appaiono in traduzione francese Tito Livio e Seneca,
Valerio Massimo e Aristotele.
Nel secolo XV l'inllusso italiano continua e s'intensifica : Cristina di Pisani, che
acquista rinomanza sotlo Carlo VII è italiana, e figlio d'un' italiana, di Valenlina di
Milano, è il pin élégante poeta di quel tempo, Carlo dOrleans; in Italia il Commynes
apprende ad amare Tito Livio, mentre il Decamerone diviene il breviario délia génie di
Corte.
Ma è soppratulto nel secolo XYl — nel secolo dei Rinascimento — clie si fa senlire e
giganteggia in Francia l'inllusso dell'Italia, poichè è dall' Italia che pénétra per la
prima volta nella letteratura francese « l'idea dell' arte », ed è attravcrso l'Italia che il
culto dell' antichità diventa in Francia qualcosa di vitale, esce dal campo degli eruditi
e, diffondendosi fra il popolo, diviene fecondo generatore di nuove énergie.
Non si traita pin infalli come nei secoli precedenli dell' incontro e dei contatto di
pochi individui dotti, ma sono gli eserciti di Carlo VIII, di Luigi XII, di Francesco I, è
tutta la nobiltà, è tutta la Francia clie pénétra in Italia, e, nello spazio di un trenten-
nio, per cinque e sei volte vi alTluisce. per rilluirepoi sul suolo francese.
E quai tempo era quello per l'Italia !
Le sue provincie eran divise, il suo avvenire politico nascosto da un filtissimo vélo,
ma nelle arti, nella poesia come nella musica, nella scullura, nell' architettura, nella
pittura, ella era regina e maestra dei mondo. — I nonii gloriosi di Leonardo da Vinci
e Raffaello, di Michelangelo e d'Ariosto, di Lorenzo il Magnifico edi Poliziano le facevano
un' auréola di gloria, le sue corti eran cenlro di cullura, liorivano le sue Univcrtà, e i
tempi aurei di Pericle ed Augusto sembravano rissuscitati. — 1 gentiluomini francesi,
in queU'aiira, si imbevcvano di cultura, e tornando al di là délie Alpi imiiortavano i
nuovi gusli e diffondevano la notizia dei poeti e degli immortali artefici conosciuti in
Italia.
Cos'i è che lutta la letteralnra francese di quel tempo si risente dell' inilusso italiano^
dall' Eplameroiw di Margherita di Navarra tutto pcrvaso dallo spirito dei Boccaccio, a
Clemenle Marot.
" Contant les faits des antiques Romains "
[431 I SUPPLÉMENT
a Melin de Saint-Gelais, il più schietto rappresentante del petrarchismo E quando
attorno alla meta del secolo XVI Ronsard fonda la Pléiade e ambisce ad allargare e
ad arricchire la lingua, è ancora ai grandi escmpidei Latini e, degli Italiani del trecenlo
e del cinquecento che egli si ispira.
Ne l'imitazione deU'ltalia si limita in quel tempo alla poesia. Carlo VIIF, Luigi Xll e
Francesco 1 conduconodall'Italia pitlori, scultori, architetti ; i più celebri degli italiani
lavorano per la Francia o vi vengono ad abitare ; Leonardo da Vinci vi cliiude la vita
travagliala e laboriosa. Che meraviglia adiinque se la pittura francese, che già si era
messa suUe orme délia scuola fiamminga, si converte all'Italia ? e se tutta una schiera
di artisti schiettamente italianeggianti vien fuori da ([uella scuola di Fontainebleau
fondata dal bolognese Primaticcio e da Niccolù dell'Abate ?
Assimilati i fecondi elementi d'una civiltà sorella la Francia tocca quindi il suo apogeo
ed ha il suo secolo d'oro, il secolo classico schiettamente e puramente francese. — Ma
quando questo secolo tramonta, un'ultima non lieve Iraccia deirinllusso italiano nelle
lettere francesi lo si trova ancora nella commedia italiana del " Ihéùlre de la Foire "
oui si ricollega il nome e l'opéra del Marivaux.
Ma anche in pieno secolo aureo, per ciô che riguarda le arti rappresenlative, la
Francia riconosce il primato deiritalia, talchè nel 16GG Luigi XIV fonda in Roma l'acca-
demia francese dove i giovani artisti francesi vengono ad erudirsi, e un ritorno ai
modelli italiani si nota nelle grandi costruzioni architettoniche del tempo, nel Louvre e
nelle Tuileries.
Intanlo Niccolù Poussin, il HatTaello francese, visse e lavorô quasi tutla la vita in Italia,
e airitalia ispiro la sua opéra il più grande dei suoi discepoli Claudio il Lorenese.
La scuola di Watteau e di Boucher per un po' di tempo fa dimenticare i modelli
classicij ma qiiesti han presto la loro rivincita, allorchè coUo stile Impero h per tutta la
Francia un ritorno appassionato ai modelli antichi e tutta una falange di scultori si
aggruppa intorno aU'iiltimo grande classico italiano, il Canova.
Cosi attraverso una lunga série di fatti non discontintiati Tinflusso italiano si
esercila sulia lelteratura e suU'arle francese, finchè, col sopraggiungere délie preoccu-
pazioni politiche e libérait, assopitasi in Italia la preoccupazione arlistica sin'allora
prédominante e cresciuta d'altra parte in Francia ogni forma di coltura nazionale, il
contributo dellTtalia all'incremento artistico francese cessa o rislà. e le nazioni sorelle
continuano fîanco a lianco la loro marcia verso i destini sempre ascendenti dell'umanità-
DEVOIRS PROPOSES
Certificat d'Études primaires supérieures.
Feuer und Heizcng.
1. Welche Apparate dienendazu, unsre Wohnungen zu heizen ?
2. Welches sind die hauptsiichlichsten Hrennmaterialien ?
3. Womit ziindet man ge^^ (ihnlich das Feuer an .■'
4. Welches ist der Nutzen des Feuers ?
5. Welches sind die Gefahren, denen das Feuer uns ausselzt ?
6. AVas ist ein Vulkan ?
(Aspirantes, Paris, /'■'- session 1900
1 . Name the différent parts of your body.
2. What shape is your liead ?
3. What do you hear with .^
4. Are you fond of fruit ?
5 . Where and when were you born i'
6. Name things made of wood.
7. What is a watch made of .^ a key ? window-panes }
(Lille, ye session 1907
72 SUPPLÉMENT [432]
BIBLIOGRAPHIE
Prof. Luigi Lucchetti. — Les images dans les œuvres de Victor Hugo. (Veroli,
Tipografia Reali. i vol. in-8 de i6o pages, 2 francs.)
Les travaux sur Victor Hugo abondent en tous pays. Un Italien qui connaît bien notre
langue et qui se déclare admirateur enthousiaste de notre grand poète a entrepris de
lui élever un modeste monument. Il a classé longuement, patiemment, par ordre alpha-
bétique les images les plus frappantes employées par l'auteur d'Hernani, et l'on sait si
la matière est vaste ! 11 est impo>sible de ne pas rendre hommage au labeur de M. Luigi
Lucchetti; son répertoire est sans doute incomplet, il n'en est pas moins utile et l'on
y fait à chaque pas de curieuses trouvailles.
Mais pourquoi n'avoir pas adopté un plan plus naturel et plus logique ? Pourquoi
n'avoir pas classé les images par catégories, d'après les sensations qu'elles éveillent ou
qu'elles veulent éveiller, d'après la vision qu'elles supposent chez le poète? Victor Hugo
est-il un « visuel « ou un u auditif »? Comment procède-t-ii pour nous éblouir, nous
étourdir, susciter en nous les sensations les plus diverses ? Est-il surtout le poète de la
lumière ou du clair-obscur, de la couleur ou des sons ? Où puise-t-il de préférence ses
images? Sont elles toujours eractes, cohérentes, naturelles? Voilà ce qu'il faudrait
nous apprendre, voilà ce qui nous intéresse. Si M. Luigi Lucchetti avait disposé d'une
manière raisonnée les nombreux matériaux qu'il nous présente dans un désordre voulu
mais regrettable, il eût pu répondre à toutes ces questions et formuler des conclusions
solides, sérieuses et peut-être nouvelles.
Je ne parlerai pas des fautes d'impression et des incorrections trop nombreuses qui
déparent un ouvrage d'ailleurs méritoire : M. L. Lucchetti ne manquera sans doute
pas de les corriger dans une prochaine édition.
^cr aSCô inê 9Hc()tê Le chemin du Néant). 9îoDeIIen non ijriebricf) Sajeruer
lian Oeftcren {Nouvctles de Friedrich Weuner van Oestkren). — @^gon [^leifd^eï
unb (£0, 33erlin.
La poignante nouvelle : La mort d'un Héros, que nos lecteurs pourront lire en cinq
langues dans notre Revue, est due à M. Friedrich Werner van Oestéren, qui nous a
obligeamment autorisés à la reproduire et à la traduire.
Nous nous réservons de présenter plus tard le jeune auteur et ses œuvres au public
français dans une étude détaillée.
Nous nous contentons aujourd'hui d'indiquer à nos lecteurs le recueil de Nouvelles
qui contient ; La mort d'un Héros. Tous ceux qui la liront seront séduits comme nous
par la simplicité, la sobriété du style, les qualités d'observation minutieuse que
déploie l'auteur et l'émotion intense qui se dégage du récit.
Les autres nouvelles du recueil sont iotéressantes toujours, curieuses parfois, tristes
souvent comme la vie réelle regardée de près, et toutes vraies, vécues et senties. Nous
recommandons en particulier à nos lecteurs ®te ©efc^td^te eiucr ©id^e et 18^8.
E.-U. B.
Bar-le-Duc. — Impiimerie Comte-Jacquet, Facdouki., Dir.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 10. 20 Février 1908. 8' Année.
SUPPLEMENT
LE i POLYGLOT CLUB d DE LONDRES
Du. Fritjof Nansen.
Siu William Ramsay.
Rev. Prof. W. W. Sreat.
Sir Donald Mackenzie Wallace.
Du. L. Zamenoff.
Le « Polyglot Club » de Londres (3 et k, Clemenls Inn, Stiand, W. C), fondé
en 1905 et qui compte déjà 226 membres, se propose de mettre en contact les
personnes des deux sexes de toutes nationalités qui s'intéressent aux langues
vivantes et aux voyages. Il a créé des sections pour les principales langues
européennes. Il publie la liste de ceux de ses membres qui désirent faire échange
de conversations ou correspondre ensemble.
11 se compose de membres résidents (Town members, i. e. those résident within
a radius of twenly-fwe miles from Chariivj Cross), qui versent une cotisation de
Ê I ; de membres nationaux (/'. e. résident elsewhere in the Briiish Isles), cotisa-
tion 10 sh. ; de membres européens, cotisation 8 sli. ; et de membres extra-
européens, cotisation 4 sh.
La liste des membres honoraires comprend :
Georg Brandes (Président).
H. R. H, The Duke of the Abruzzi.
Lord Avebury.
Lord Reay.
Major Martin IIuaie.
Nos lecteurs nous sauront gré de mettre sous leurs youx le programme des
conférences et des discussions organisées par le Club :
8 February (and Salurday). Italian. " Arle e Artisti. " Signor E. Cuescxoli. —
Chairman : D'' Vincemt Dickinson.
10 February (and Monday). French. " Les Arabes en Algérie." M. Ernest TiiiÉ-
BAULT. — Chairman: Prof. Victor Spiers, M. A. (Officier de l'Inslruclion Publique).
17 February (3rd Monday); English. Debale '• That a Giiild livenj for evenj class,
calling and profession ivould prove of immense henefd io National life. " — Opened b>j :
Mrs Rentoul Esler.
22 February (4lh Salurday). Spanish. ^
23 February (/|th Sunday). Espéranto. " Vesperman(j^o I;aj Bahilado. " — Ves-
permastru : Sro. Geo. J. Cox.
27 February (4th Thursday). Russian. " A great Russian Industry : Bahu and its
OU Fields. " Dr. Paul Dvons.ovrrz. — Cliairman: Mr. F. H. Skrine.
2 Mardi (ist Monday). English. " Tlie Keijs of tJie Universe. " Miss Martha Craig.
7 March (ist Saturday). German. '' Das Drama und die Menschen, Eine Psycliolo-
gische Analyse. " Herr Konsul J. T. Grein. — Chairman: Herr Karl Lindemann.
9 March (2nd Monday). French. "Jules Verne. Mes Verne et r Académie. Jules Verne
et les Inventions. Jules Verne et les Anglais. " M. Louis Beciiot. — Chairman: M. le
Pasteur Dégremont.
i4 March (2nd Saturday). Italian. " Cardiicci. '' Slgnorina Lunati.
16 March (3rd Monday). English. Debate. — Pro. : Mr. M. B. Blake. Con. ; ...
— Chairman: Mr. R. P. Croom-Johnson. ^
32 March (4lh Sunday). Espéranto. " Vespennango kaj Bahilado.'' — Vespermastro :
Sro. G. E. CowPER.
26 March (/Ith Tliursday). Russian. " Toholsli. " Miss Annette B. Meakin.
[60] suppL. 10
74 SUPPLÉMENT [474]
a8 March (/ith Saturday). Spanish.
3o March (5lh Monday). Annual General Meeting at 6 o'clock p. m. Soirée
Polyglotte al 8. 3o. Admission by spécial ticket.
NOMINATIONS UNIVERSITAIRES
— Du 7 janvier. —
Lycée de Mont-de- Marsan. —M. Fouret, agrégé d'espagnol, répétiteur au
lycée d'Alger, est nommé professeur d'espagnol au lycée de Mont-de-Marsan.
— Du 8 janvier. —
Collège de Nyons. - M. Affbe, pourvu du cerlificat d'aptitude à l'enseigne-
ment de l'allemand, est chargé des fonctions de professeur de langues vivantes
au collège de Nyons.
— Du U janvier. —
Collège de Car penlr as. — IM. Pommaret, professeur d'allemand et lettres au
collège de Cusset, est nommé professeur d'allemand au collège de Garpen-
tras.
Collège de Cussel.— M. Chabot, licenciées lettres (allemand), est nommé pro-
fesseur de lettres et allemand au collège de Cusset .
— Du 12 janvier. —
Lycée de Besançon. — M. André, agrégé d'allemand, professeur à l'école
supérieure de commerce de Nancy, est nommé professeur d'allemand au lycée
de Besançon.
— Du 14 janvier. —
Lycée de Lorient. — M. Marquis, professeur chargé de cours d'anglais au
lycée du Puy, est nommé professeur chargé de cours d'anglais au lycée de
Lorient.
Lycée du Pay. — M. Goutay, professeur d'anglais au collège de Saint-Dié,
est délégué pour l'enseignement de l'anglais au lycée du Puy.
— Du 24 janvier. —
Lycées Louis-le-Grand, Henri IV et Condorcet. — M. I'aoli, professeur d'ita-
lien au lycée de Lyon, est nommé professeur d'italien aux lycées Louis-le-
Grand, Henri IV et Condorcet.
ÉCHOS ET NOUVELLES
Les journaux de Tolùo nous apprennent que l'élude de la langue allemande,
qui n'avait cessé de se développer au Japon depuis igoo, est en décroissance
depuis l'an dernier. Dans les examens qui eurent lieu en 1900, les langues
étudiées de préférence par les candidats étaient l'anglais, le chinois, l'allemand
et le russe. Le français, l'espagnol et le coréen avaient peu d'adeptes.
En 190^ l'allemand tenait une des premières jjlaces ; il n'a plus cjne la sep-
tième.
Deux professeurs de Leipzig, philologues de grand mérite, M. Karl Brugmann
et M. August Leskien, viennent d'écrire im réquisitoire fortement motivé
contre l'espéranto (chez Karl Triibner à Strasbourg, Zar Kritik der k'ùnsllichen
Wellsprachen). Ils exposent avec une grande netteté et une logique lemarcpia-
[475]
SUPPLÉMENT
75
ble les raisons pour lesquelles une langue universelle ne peut servir qu'aux
relations épistolaircs et ne peut convenir qu'à un cercle très restreint d'indi-
vidus. M. Leskien estime que l'espéranto ne remplit aucune des conditions
phonétiques nécessaires pour devenir une langue universelle. On peut s'atten-
dre à de violentes répliques de la part des espéra ntistes.
SUJETS D'EXAMENS ET CONCOURS
Agrégation d'espagnol' (1907).
Thème.
Entre les rocliers assez âpres, les lagunes que laissait la mer gardaient de petits
animaux trop lents qui n'avaient pu la suivre. Quelques coquilles étaient là toutes
retirées en elles-mêmes et souffrant de rester à sec. Au milieu d'elles, sans coquille,
sans abri, tout éployée, gisait l'ombrelle vivante qu'on nomme assez mal méduse.
Pourquoi ce terrible nom pour un être si charmant? Jamais je n'avais arrêté mon
attention sur ces naufragés qu'on voit si souvent au bord de la mer. Celle-ci était
petite, de la grandeur de la main, mais singulièrement jolie, de nuances douces et
légères. Elle était d'un blanc d'opale où se perdait, comme dans un nuage, une
couronne de tendre lilas. Le vent l'avait retournée. Sa couronne de cheveux lilas
flottait en dessus, et la délicate ombrelle (c'est-à-dire son propre corps), se trouvant
dessous, touchait le rocher. Très froissée en ce pauvre corps, elle était blessée, déchi-
rée en ses fins cheveux qui sont ses organes pour respirer, absorber et même aimer.
Tout cela, sens dessus dessous, recevait d'aplomb le soleil provençal, âpre à son pre-
mier réveil, plus âpre par l'aridité du mistral qui s'y mêlait par moments. Double trait
qui traversait la transparente créature. Vivant dans ce milieu de mer dont le contact est
caressant, elle ne se cuirasse pas d'épiderme résistant, comme nous autres animaux
de la terre; elle reçoit tout à vif.
Près de sa lagune séchée, d'autres lagunes étaient pleines et communiquaient à la
mer. Le salut était à un pas. Mais, pour elle, qui ne se meut que par ses ondoyants
cheveux, ce pas était infranchissable. Sous ce soleil, on pouvait croire qu'elle serait
bientôt dissoute, absorbée, évanouie.
Rien de plus éphémère, de plus fugitif que ces filles de la mer. Il en est de plus
fluides, comme la légère bande d'azur qu'on appelle ceinture de Vénus, et qui, à peine
sortie de l'eau, se dissipe et disparaît. La méduse, un peu plus fixée, a plus de peine à
mourir.
Version .
Mil quejas, niùa, me lias dado
De que, pues te quiero tanto,
ô Porqué en mis versos no canto
Tu hermosura y mi cuidado ?
Yo, amiga, en eslo de versos,
Soy escrupuloso mucho :
Que ni los leo ni escucho
Si no son cultos y tersos,
Continuados y enteros ;
No conio los que al principio
Son los primeros de ripio,
Por lograr los dos postreros.
Y por no los hacer taies,
Me retiro, como sabio :
Que no quiero hacer agravio
A tus prendas ni ;'i mis maies.
Demâs que (aunque los hiciera
Mejores que Garcilaso),
Sospecho que en este caso
Tampoco te obedeciera.
No porque no sea mu y juslo
Que tu nombre en versos ande ;
Mas porque et peligro es grande.
Y mu y abreviado el guslo.
Iluya quien de veras a ma
Destas burlas peligrosas :
Que no es bien poner sus cosas
En la boca de la fama.
Vamos buscando mil modos
Para deshacer sospechas,
Y apenas quedan deshechas
Con usar mu y bien de todos ;
Y por un gusto liviano
De seis consonantes juntos
j En maliciosos barruntos
Pondre firmas de mi mano ?
I. Il est accordé 4 heures pour le thème et la version, et 7 heures pour les autres
compositions. Les candidats ne peuvent faire usage de dictionnaires ni de lexiques.
76
SUPPLÉMENT
[476]
Yo se lo que estos errores
Han danado ;i los poêlas,
Por no tener muy sécrétas
Aficiones y favores... .
Por iina parte me glorio
Que nadie me sabe un brinco,
j Y por olra, con ahinco,
Convido â ver mi escritorio !
,; Quieres que los de tu casa
Hagan sus sospechas ciertas,
Y que ventanas y puertas
Cierren al aire que pasa ?
Pues 5 que sera mejor, loca ?
(j Vernos los pasos tomados
Con clavos y con candados.
0 eclu'irmelos yo en la boca ?
No, no, callemos, amiga :
Que el remedio màs perfeto
Para que dure un secreto
Es que ninguno lo diga.
Y en este punto recelo
De enviarte este papel ;
Y si bas de ser poco flel
A ti misma, romperélo.
Dissertation française.
Jusqu'à quel point Cervantes a-t-il réussi, dans La ihislre fre.jona, à fondre l'élément
romanesque et l'élément picaresque ?
Dissertation espagnole.
«... Anles del Renacimiento, la poesia, sobre todo en sus formas primitivas, la épica
y la religiosa, presentâbaseen las naciones màs importantes de Europa pobre de inven-
ciôn, àspera en el ritmo, y torpe y monotona en la rima. No habia encontrado su
expresion definiliva, y las lenguas en que balbucia sus primeros vagidos apenas liabian
salido de la inl'ancia. Pero era nacional, y cuando algi'in elemento cxotico se introducia
en ella, lardaba poco en asimilàrselo, haciéndole adquirir en cada région el color y el
sabor del terruno propio El Renacimiento vino h torcer la direcciôn que las
incipientes literaturas iiarticulares seguian, y las sustrajo en absoluto de la vida real. »
G. NiiÙEz DE Arce, Discurso sobre la Poesia.
Esta caractcristica de la poesia comi:)arada de la Edad Media y del Renacimiento
c liasla que punto, en lo que se refiere especialmente ;'i Espaùa, se puede aplicar à la
literatura en gênerai y â las arles ?
Baccalauréat Latin-Langues et Sciences-Langues'
(octobre 1907).
(Matirres à développer. — Temps acranlé : ■! heures.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Siegfried, der berûhmle deutsche Held, der Sohn des Kônigs von Franken, halle das
Haus seiner Ellern verlassen, uni in die Aveite Wclt zu wandern. In einem grolien VVald
traf er eine Scbmiede, und da er unbewalTnet war luid sich selber ein Sclnverl schmie-
den wollte, bat er den Schmied, ihn seine Kunst zu lehren. Der Scbmied fragte nun
Siegfried, vver er sei, warum er das Haus seiner Ellern verlassen, warum er das Hand-
werk eincs Schmiedes erlernen wolle, usw.
Der junge Held antwortet auf ail dièse Fragen ; er erziihlt, wie er in den Wald
gekommen, wie er das Iliimmern eincr Schmiede gehurl, warum er in die Werkslatt
eingelreten, und zuletzt gibt er dem Meister einigc Heweise seiner aufserordentlichen
Kraft (er schwingt den schwerslen Hammer ; er spaltet den Ambol'i enlzwei, usw.).
{Aix-Mavseille .)
Composition en langue anglaise.
An important fair lias just been held in Ihe town you live in. You wrile lo a friend
and describe the varions amusements and paslimes in which you look much delight.
1. Tlie lown llirongcd with people in Iheir best attire; a scène fuU of buslle and
life.
2. Tlie boolhs, merry-go-rounds with Iheir accompanying sleam organ, shooling-
galleries, etc.
3. The wonders of a travelling ménagerie.
(A\x-Marse\lle.)
I. Sujets communs aux deux séries.
[477J SUPPLÉMENT 77
Composition en langue italienne.
Un giovane, mandato dai parcnli in Italia, narra il suo viaggio a un amico in una
lettera, prima di lasciare a Cività Veccliia la terra italica.
Nel suo viaggio di due niesi avrà visitato : i° l'Alta Italia ; 2° la Toscana ; 3° Roma.
{Aix-Marseille.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
Un joven, niandado por sus padres à Espana, llegado à Barcelona despues de un
viaje de dos meses, y al punto de embarcarse para Marsella, narra à un amigo en una
carta los pormenores de su viaje, Habrâ viajado : i" en las provincias vascongadas ;
2" en Gastilla la Vieja y Castilla la Nueva ; 3" en Aragon ; 4° en Cataluna.
(Aix-Marseille.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Besucu einer Marineausstellung.
Die anzieliendsten Sehenswiirdigkeiten : Modelle von Kriegs-und Handelsschiffen in
verkleinertem Mal'^stab ; aile Gegenstiinde, die zur Ausriistung solcher Schiffe nôtig
sind, souie auch fiir das Fischen und die Seesports ; wirkliche Schiffe, von fremden
Regierungen liergesandt, die neben den franzusischen Schiffen vor Anker liegen. Her-
beislromende Menge der Besucher. Zweck dieser Ausstellung : das bisher zu laue Inte-
resse der Franzosen fiir das Secwesen und fiir die Erweiterung unseres Wirkungskreises
zu wecken und zu sleigern.
(Bordeaux .)
Composition en langue anglaise.
An afternoon is a Maritime Exhibition.
Describe tlie great attractions — models of men-of-war or cargo -boats ; ail thatperlains
to sailing, fisliing, sea-sports. Real ships too sent by tlie foreign governments, side by
side with the French ships. The crowding of visitors. The object of the exhibition : to
make llie French inlerested in naval affairs and our expansion abroad ; two things
which they hâve not lill now paid sufhcient attention to.
(Bordeaux.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
Una visita a la Exposiciôn marituiA.
Describir las principales atracciones : buques de guerra y mercantes en reduccion ;
todo lo que concierne a armamento, pesca, sports marilimos. — También se ven verda-
deros navios, enviados por los gobiernos extranjeros,' al lado de los buques franceses.
Concurrencia de los visitadores. — Objelo de esta exposiciôn : interesar â los Franceses
por las cosas del mar y por nuestra expansion exterior, dos cosas que hasta aqui les han
sido muy ajenas. (Bordeaux.)
Composition en langue allemande.
' I. S)ie aCeinïefe ïjat tegonuen. ©onnenjdjein, fieiterer §tmmet. SBinjer unb SBinjerinnen
fïot)ïic^ an ber ?[vtieit. ©ejang, ©eptauber, ujlu. %\lcè freut fic^ bcim îlniblicE be§ fdjaumenben
5Jîofte>3, ber fpiiter al§ Ùaxex, fimîetnber âScin tu uujdfiligen Jaffevn ïuïien luirb unb
manche ©afte eïfjeitern toiïb.
II. ^lotjlic^er îiuêbïuc^ eine§ @eh)ttter§. Ser gon^e §tmmel utit buuïten ÎBolfcn iitier^
jogen. S3Ulje uub bvo^uenbei; Sonner. S)er 58111} ']â)laQt etn. §qu§ in glamutcn.
III. -:}luf)aïtenbcâ ategeutnettcr. Siii^e, gliifie fdjttjeUen an. Sie gauje ©egcnb toirb
iiï)eri(ï)U)emmt. a>erl)eerungen. llnfalle. 9îettung.
îraurtgeg gnbe ber âBeinteie.
(Montpellier.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
Why did you learn English in préférence to olher foreign languages, or why was
English chosen for you when you began your course of studies ? Résides such gênerai
reasons as English vocabulary being very rich owing to its sources, English grammar
78 SUPPLÉMENT [478]
and synlax being Aery easy lo master, English being spoken in ail quarlers of the
Globe, and English literaliire being one of the richest in the world, give ail spécial
reasons which may hâve delermined your own choice or the clioice of your parents or
guardians, as the case may hâve been.
(Montpellier.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
VOELTA DE LAS LANCHAS PESCADORAS.
I. Ha concluido ya el trabajo de los pescadores ; vuelven pues ;i la costa con su
pesca .
II. El tiempo esta hermoso ; un viento fresco liincha blandamente la vêla de sus
barquillas.
III. Sin duda las mujeres los esperan ahi con su nifio en el brazo.
IV. Por todo eso, y también porque résulté abondante la pesca, los pescadores estan
muy alegres.
(MonlpeUier.)
Composition en langue italienne.
La foire AU VILLAGE.
Descrivete brevemente il villaggio in cui ha luogo la fiera. ïoccale lievemente il
prepararsi délia fiera. Aspetlo délie vie principal! e délie piazze ingombre d'una infi-
nilà di tende solto cui stanno merci e vendilori. Bettolieri ambulanti, saltiinbanchi,
ecc... Aflluenza di forestier!. Il ballo publico. Allegrezza générale.
{Montpellier.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Arion.
Arion vvar ein bcriihmlor griechischer Dichter und Siinger : jederniann licbfc und
schiitzte ihn, weil...; auch wurde er reicli. Einst schiffle er, goldbeladen, von
Tarent nach Corinth, vvo er...; die Seeleute beschlossen ihn, niillen im Meere, zu
tuten, uni seine llabe zu pliindcrn. Er batsie um sein Leben, aber vergebeiis. Doch
erlaubte man ilim noch einmal zu singen, und dann mit seiner Zither ins Meer zu
springen.
Dies geschah ; ein Delphin, von der Musik gelockt, nalini Arion aufseinen lliicken,
und trug ihn bis an die griechische Kiiste. Sogar brachte er ilim einige Zeit nachher
sein Gold und seine Ivleinodien zunïck. Denn die Riiubcr halten einander liberfallen
und das Schiff war unlergegangen.
Der geretlete Dichter sang dem Apoll ein Loi) und Danklied, und wurde am llof des
Konigs von Corinth doppelt gefeicrt.
{Toulouse.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
A TrIP on THE Railvvay.
State the place of your destination, in what class you travelled, the time of setting
off. What did you notice in the station from which you started ? Describe your fellow-
passengers. Détail any conversation you may have had with any of theni. W liât strik-
ing objects did you notice on the way ? Détail any incident Ihat may have occurrcd.
Your arrivai.
(Toulouse.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
La salida de los emigra^jtes.
« .. Anoche, desde los balcones de la fonda que caen al muelle de Santander, pre-
sencié los preparalivos de un Iransallàntico para darse i\ la vêla, y su salida del puerlo.
En este buque iban muclios emigrantcs à America, oriundos de ambas Caslillas 6 de
las provincias del Norte. La mayor parte venian acompanados por sus respectivas fami-
iias. Guantas cscenas tristes llamaban la atenciùn de los espcctadorcs, y cuantos senti-
mientos embargaban el aima de aquclla pobre gente !... »
DesarroUar estas lineas de una carta, pintando algunas de las escenas aludidas y
explicando los sentimientos de los actores de este drama.
(Toulouse.)
[4791 SUPPLÉMENT 79
DEVOIRS CORRIGÉS
1. Die vier Jahreszeilen sind der Frûhling, der Sommer, der Ilerbst iiiid der Winter.
Der Friihling beginnt dea 21. Miirz ; der Sommer den 21. Juni, der Herbst don
21. September, der Winter den 21. Dezember.
2. Die Glieder des menschlichen Korpers sind die Arme und die ]5eine. Wir k(innen
die Arme imd die Beine bcwegen. Mit den Armen und den Hiinden knnnen wirarbeiten,
schreiben, spielen, usw. ; mit den iieinen und den Fiilien kunnen wir geben, laufen,
springen, tanzen, hûpfen, knien, usw.
3. Wir beleucbten unsere Stral'ien mit elektrischen Lampcn oder Gaslaternen, unsere
Iliiuser mit Ol-oder Petroleumlampen, elektrischen Lampen und Gaslampen.
U. In einer Ménagerie sieht man Lijwen, Tiger, Leoparden, Hyiinen, Biiren, Wulfe,
Fiichsc, Schlangen, Adler, Geier, usw.
(C. E. P. S., Aspirants, Nancy, f*' session 1907.)
1. Ile went into tbe parlour after breakfast witb bis books and a slate. His molher
was roady for bim, so was Mr. Jbirdstone sitting in bis easy cliair. Ile banded tbe first
book to bis molber. Ile took a last look at tbe page and slarted otl' as quickly as he
could. Ile tripjied over a \Aord, be reddened and stopped.
2. In France people breakfast between 7 and y a. m., usually on coffee or cbocolate,
witb rolls of bread and butter. In England tbe lime and tbe fare vary witb tbe respec-
tive persons. For instance a workman may bave a cup of tea before starting for work
at 5. 3o, a scboolboy may ba\e bis tea or coffee, egg, and bread and butter at 8, a busi-
nessman bis eggs and bacon and coffee at g.
Tbe otber meals are lunch (for cbildren early dinner) between 12. 3o and 2, tea from
4 to 5. dinner anytime from 0. 3o lo 8. 3o, and supper, sometimes after tbe théâtre as
late as midnight.
3. The ox and cow are tbe most useful animais of tbe farm ; tbe former for its méat
(veal wben young and beef) and its draught powers ; tbe latter for its milk.
f\ . The oak grows in maiiy parts of Europe, som«times in forests, sometimes alone.
Itis not always bigb, but basa large circumference, witb wrinkled, ringed bark, oul-
stretcbed brandies, and twining roots. Itsstrong wood used to be employed for sbips^
and is made into cbests and doors.
5. Tbirty-one inches. Four bundred and seventy-six thousand, nine hundred and
eigbty-four.
{B. S , Aspirants, Lille, 2' session, 1907.)
* Voir les textes dans le n» du 20 novembre 1907.
BIBLIOGRAPHIE
En Italie : les derniers livres parus.
De nombreux romans, de nombreux recueils de nouvelles ont paru, comme toujours,
dans les derniers mois de 1907, mais aucun d'eux n'a obtenu un succès remarquable.
L'attention des lecteurs et des critiques s'est essentiellement portée sur toute une
suite de publications relatives à l'œuvre et à la vie de Carducci, dont les principales
sont : Da un carteggio inedilo di G. Carducci, dix-huit lettres du poète à la comtesse
80 SUPPLÉMENT [480]
Silvia Baroni-Pasolini. Garducci y parle de ses goûts littéraires, de son amour pour
Virgile, de ses opinions politiques et religieuses ; certaines descriptions de paysages
sont de délicieux petits tableaux tandis que d'autres pages offrent des confessions intimes
d'un vif intérêt biographique ; — une Antologia Carducciana di poésie e prose annotée par
G. Mazzoki e J. PicciOLA ; le recueil donne une idée complète et exacte des œuvres de
Garducci et les annotations y sont d'autant plus importantes que MM. Mazzoni et Pic-
clola, qui comptent parmi les élèves préférés du grand poète, commentent souvent le
texte à l'aide des explications qu'ils ont eux-même reçues de la bouche du maître; — des
essais critiques de Francesco Torraca, d'Enrico Gocchia, d'Orazio Bacci.
En dehors des œuvres qui se rapportent à Garducci, un livre qui a eu beaucoup de
retentissement estEcce Homo d'Arthur Graf, un recueil de mille aphorisnies. Le poQle
de Médusa, qui est aussi un critique fort apprécié, nous y présente, à côté de pensées
assez profondes et originales, d'autres qui n'ont rien de nouveau et d'un tour d'esprit
assez superficiel; aussi le livre, malgré la renommée de l'auteur^ a-t-il été jugé d'une façon
peu bienveillante '.
Mais un livre qui obtiendra le plus grand succès est La meta del mondo vista da un'. auto-
mobile de L. Barzim, qui se publie en ce moment en douze langues, l.e compagnon de
voyage du prince Borghese y retrace, en un style rapide plein de couleur et de nerf, les
impressions recueillies dans le mémorable raid Pékin-Paris; ce n'est pas un livre
de voyage ordinaire avec de froides descriptions entrecoupées d'anecdotes d'un intérêt
souvent douteux ; non, il y a quelque chose dans ces pages qui vit, qui vibre, qui nous
électrise et nous passionne pour le drame qui se déroule sous nos yeux, dans l'antago-
nisme de deux forces formidables : d'une part la volonté de ces trois hommes serrés
parmi les cordages et les coffres dans les flancs d'une automobile, de l'autre une volonté
opposée obscure et menaçante, faite du farouche mysticisme chinois et du fatalisme
oriental.
Notons encore : Giuseppe Garidaldi, Scrilli poUtici e militari, un recueil presque
complet des écrits militaires et politiques du héros si cher aux Italiens, d'une lecture
fort attachante ; — Il pensiero modenio iiellascien:a, nella letteratura e iieW arte, sept con-
férences toutes très remarquables reflétant le mouvement actuel des idées et des études;
à signaler surtout la conférence de G. Vitelli, « L'Egypte romaine et la vie moderne »,
et celle de G. Mazzoni, « La critique littéraire » ; — Cose piane de M'ne Pezzé-Pascolato,
un livre charmant qui s'adresse surtout aux jeunes filles et d'une façon noble et simple
jjarle de la dignité du travail, de la vie de famille, de la bonne ménagère, de la cul-
ture de la femme dans la société moderne ; — un petit livre qui peut rendre des services
inappréciables, Sludi suW ortograjia moderna, dû à la plume d'un littératetir distingué,
G. P. Clerici, qui ne dédaigne pas de nous guider à travers les humbles dédales de l'or-
thographe et arrive à des conclusions fort sensées sur les mille questions soulevées de tous
temps par les littérateurs italiens depuis Monti et Gastelvetro jusqu'à Garducci et d'An-
nunzio.
Et pour finir, voici un livre excellent qui mérite d'être signalé à tous ceux qui dési-
rent se familiariser avec la littérature italienne : Corne gente che pensa suo cammino, de
Mme Rosa Errera. G'est une antiiologie destinée aux écoles, mais tout le monde peut la
lire avec utilité. Dans les auteurs anciens comme dans les modernes, dans le Dante,
Pétrarque, le Tasse, l'Arioste, dans Manzoni et Leopardi, Léonard de Vinci et Vasari,
dans Mazzini et Giusti, Goldoni, Parini Gioberli et dans une foule d'écrivains con-
temporains, l'auteur a su choisir avec un goût exquis les pages les plus intéressantes, les
plus élevées, les plus belles ; un fil idéal relie ces morceaux détachés, et tous ensemble
forment comme une seule grande voix qui apprend à bien vivre et à bien penser, qui
prêche par le conseil, enseigne par l'exemple, console et ennoblit par l'art et la poésie.
B. ALLASON-WlCk.
Turin, 3o décembre 1907.
I. Voir dans la Partie italienne des Cinq fMngues quelf(ues-uns de ces Apftorismes.
Bar-le-Duc. — Imprimeiie Comte-Jacquet, F'achouel, Dir.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 11. 5 Mars 1908. 8' Année.
SUPPLÉMENT
L'ENFANT ET LE THEATRE
Nous empruntons à un article de M. Lino Ferrari (Rome), publié dans le Zeilgeisl,
les réllexions suivantes que nous soumettons sans commentaires à nos lecteurs et
surtout à nos lectrices.
Les parents ont des systèmes de récompenses et de punitions souvent
contraires au bon sens. La récompense la plus répandue dans les familles
aisées est de conduire l'enfant au théâtre. Cette récompense perdrait beau-
coup de son danger si le plaisir était en harmonie avec les facultés intellec-
tuelles et les forces physiques de l'enfant, et s'il était propre à favoriser le
développement de sa raison. Mais il n'en est pas du tout ainsi, et de là vient
le mal. Tout d'abord les heures accordées au sommeil sont diminuées ou au
moins reculées, premier préjudice à la santé. Mais ce n'est pas là le pire. On
conduit fréquemment les enfants à des représentations destinées aux adul-
tes, souvent même aux adultes amateurs de pièces légères. Dans ce cas, les
parents eux-mêmes, par inconscience ou par sottise, déposent dans l'àme de
leurs enfants des germes pernicieux qui se développeront plus tard. Mais
admettons que c'est là l'exception. Les autres, ceux qui écartent les
représentations peu convenables, n'en conduisent pas moins leurs enfants
à des spectacles (tragédies, drames, comédies ou opéras) faits pour des adul-
tes. Qu'arrive-t-il alors ? Si l'enfant est peu intelligent, il s'ennuie ou
s'endort sur les genoux de sa mère. La vue d'un enfant dormant au théâtre
est un spectacle attristant qui provoque des réflexions pénibles, souvent
peu flatteuses pour les parents. Si l'enfant possède une raison déjà en éveil
et une vive imagination, il s'efforcera de retenir ce qu'il a vu et entendu,
et cet effort, joint à l'excitation psychique, sera mauvais au point de vue
physique; de plus, cette influence pernicieuse ne sera pas que momenta-
née, elle se prolongera et laissera des traces funestes. Après une de ces soi-
rées, le sommeil de l'enfant sera pénible ou agité ; le lendemain, il ne fera
pas attention en classe. Son esprit travaillera longtemps pour comprendre
ce qui lui a échappé. S'il n'y arrive pas seul, il se renseignera auprès d'un
camarade plus âgé et se fera souvent de la vie une idée tout à fait
fausse
Mais, dira-t-on, où donc conduire ces pauvres petits ? En principe, pas
au théâtre. Le théâtre produit chez l'enfant une surexcitation qui agit
fâcheusement sur son équilibre physique et moral, et sur le développement
graduel de ses facultés, principalement de l'imagination. Or cet équilibre
et cette évolution progressive sont des conditions nécessaires à la transfor-
mation journalière de l'enfant en homme.
[661 supPL. H
82
SUPPLEMENT
[522]
Joignez au spectacle lui-même tout ce qui l'accompagne : la foule,
l'éclairage fastueux, la musique, le luxe, les toilettes somptueuses, puis les
critiques souvent stupides qu'onyentend, etvousvous rendrez compte que
tout cela peut détruire l'équilibre de l'àme enfantine et nuire à l'harmonie
qui doit régner entre le corps et l'esprit.
Assurément beaucoup d'enfants s'amusent au théâtre, ce n'est pas con-
testable (et il n'est toujours question en ce moment que des pièces
convenables), mais ce n'en est pas moins une distraction qui, sans excep-
tion, sera plus ou moins défavorable à la délicate organisation de l'enfant,
parce qu'elle le trouble, qu'elle éveille en lui des impressions qu'il ne peut
pas transformer en idées, faute d'un sens critique assez développé.
Le docteur Nacke, directeur d'une maison de santé de Leipzig et psy-
chiatre éminent, a donné cette explication parfaite : « Le théâtre agit sur
les enfants à la manière d'une sorte d'alcool qui diminuerait leur activité
intellectuelle après l'avoir excitée démesurément, d
Le professeur Aschaffexburg déclare : « Quand je vois un enfant suivre
attentivement le spectacle, je me demande si ses parents sont lous ou
méchants, tellement la faute qu'ils commettent est grave. Quoi qu'il en
soit, cet enfant est digne de pitié, et ma pitié s'accroît quand il s'agit d'une
petite fille et qu'elle assiste à la représentation d'une pièce où se déroulent
des scènes de passion. »
Le docteur Charcot trouve que le théâtre est pour les enfants un poison
lent qui leur est offert parla main de parents imprudents.
Ainsi donc les médecins, les psychologues, les éducateurs se trouvent
d'accord, ils proscrivent pour les enfants le théâtre en général, et surtout
les représentations de nuit destinées aux adultes.
AGRÉGATION D'ALLEMAND
Modifications au prograrame pour le concours de 1908.
Le programme primitif, que nous avons reproduit dans noire numéro du
ao juillet 1907, désignait parmi les auteurs de la rubrique « Poésie lyrique con-
temporaine » :
Arno Holz. — Phanlasus.
En raison de rimpossibilité où se trouvent les candidats de se procurer cet
ouvrage, le jury a décide de le remplacer par le suivant :
Alfred Mombert. — Der Denker (Mindcn, chez Brun). Chapitres : Der Sie-
bente et der achle Denker.
Nouveau t.\ble.\u des coefficiepsts ' .
Epreuves préparatoires.
Composition française sur un sujet
d'histoire allemande ....
('omposition allemande sur un sujet
relatif à la civilisation moderne
des pays de langue allemande .
Thème
Version
Epreuves définilives .
Leçon française préparée.
Leçon allemande préparée .
Explication de deux textes alle-
mands, l'un en prose, l'autre en
■»ers
Thème oral improvisé ....
I. Ce tableau remplace celui (juc nous avons publié dans le numéro du 20 décembre
1907.
[523J suprLÉMENT 83
NOMINATIONS UNIVERSITAIRES
Du 31 janvier.
Faculté des lettres de Paris. — iNI. ândler, docteur es lettres, chargé d'un
cours de littérature allemande à la Faculté des lettres de l'Université de Paris,
est nommé, à partir du i" février 1908, professeur de langue et littérature
allemandes à ladite Faculté.
— Des 21 et 29 janvier. —
Collège de Saint-Dié. — M. Carel, professeur d'anglais au collège de Fou-
gères, est nommé professeur de lettres et d'anglais au collège de Saint-Dié.
Collège d'Armenlières. — M. Outrebon, professeur d'allemand au collège
de Morlaix, est nommé professeur de grammaire et allemand au collège
d'Armenlières.
Collège de Morlaix. — M. Prost. licencié es lettres (allemand), est nommé
professeur d'allemand au collège de Morlaix.
— Du 27 janvier. —
Collège de jeunes filles de Troyes. — M"'' Chevron, surveillante d'externat au
collège de jeunes filles de Troyes, pourvue du certificat d'aptitude à l'ensei-
gnement de l'allemand, est nommée professeur d'allemand audit collège.
SUJETS D'EXAMENS ET CONCOURS
Agrégation d'italien' (1907).
Thème.
Des CO.NSOLA.TIONS SPIRITUELLES ET SE.VSIBLES,
ET COMME IL FAUT SE COMPORTER EK ICELLES °.
Dieu continue l'être de ce grand monde en une perpétuelle vicissitude, par laquelle
le jour se change toujours en nuit, le printemps en l'été, l'été en automne, l'automne
en hiver et l'hiver en printemps, et l'un des jours ne ressemble jamais parfaitement
l'autre; on en voit des nubileux, de pluvieux, de secs, de venteux, variété qui donne
une grande beauté à cet univers. Il en est de même de l'homme, qui est, selon le dire
des anciens, un abrégé du monde, car jamais il n'est en un même état; et sa vie écoule
sur celte terre comme les eaux, flottant et ondoyant en une perpétuelle diversité de
mouvements, qui tantôt l'élèvent aux espérances, qui tantôt l'abaissent par la crainte,
tantôt le plient à droite par la consolation, tantôt à gauche par l'affliction ; et jamais
une seule de ses journées, ni même une de ses heures, n'est entièrement pareille à
l'autre.
C'est un grand avertissement que celui-ci : il nous faut tâcher d'avoir une continuelle
et inviolable égalité de cœur en une si grande inégalité d'accidents. Et quoique toutes
choses se tournent et varient diversement autour de nous, il nous faut demeurer
constamment immobiles, à toujours regarder, tendre et prétendre à notre Dieu. Que
le navire prenne telle route qu'on voudra, qu'il cingle au ponant ou levant, au midi ou
1. 11 est accordé k heures pour le thème et la version, et 7 heures pour les autres
compositions. Les candidats ne peuvent faire usage de dictionnaires m de lexiques.
2. Titre à traduire.
84
SUPPLEMENT
[524]
septentrion, et quelque vent que ce soit qui le porte, jamais pourtant son aiguille
marine ne regardera que sa belle étoile, et le p<Me. Que tout se renverse sens dessus
dessous, je' ne dis pas seulement autour de nous, mais je dis en nous, c'est-à-dire que
notre àme soit triste, joyeuse, en douceur, en amertume, en paix, en trouble, en clarté,
en ténèbres, en tentations, en repos, en goût, en dégoût, en sécheresse, en tendreté,
que le soleil la brûle ou que la rosée la rafraîchisse ; ah ! si faut-il pourtant qu'à jamais
et toujours la pointe de notre cœur, notre esprit, notre volonté supérieure, qui est
notre boussole, regarde incessamment et tende perpétuellement à l'amour de Dieu.
Saint Pdancois de Sai.es.
Version.
MONNA PIPPA, GIÀ BALIA 01 FABRIZIO FIGLIO
UELMEDICO MANENTE ; ATTILIO, VITTORIO,
AMICI 1)1 FABBIZIO.
{Attilio balle aW uscio.)
PJPPA
Chi è?
ATTILIO
Amici.
PIPPA
Oh il mio messer Attilio,
Ch'è di voi ?
ATTIMO
Bene.
PIPPA
Chc voleté ?
ATTlLlO
Il medico
È in casa ?
PIPPA
Messer, no. Gli uscl stamani
Air alba dietro a questo parenlado.
r vi so dir che la via non mette erba
Or ch' egli ha a far per se; quando quel
[povero
Figliuolo la voleva, ell' era presso
Ch' i' non dissi ; e' fe' fanto il ritrosaccio
Ch' e' capilô maie, ch' i non vi veggo
Mai ch' i' non pianga ; ch' eravate come
Fralelli.
ATTILIO
E siamo, e sarem ; ch' egli è vivo.
PIPPA
Vivo chi?
ATTILIO
Il vostro figlioccio Fabrizio.
PIPPA
Che Dio il volesse!
ATTILIO
Ecco qui una lettera
Di sua mano, ch' i' ho avuto stamattina
Da Genova, e la vo' mostrare al medico.
PIPPA
Dite voi in verità ?
ATTILIO
Ah non crediate
Ch' i' vi burlassi !
PIPPA
Uh voi m' avele fatia
Andar tulta sossopra, e s\ mi senlo
Quasi che venir meno per l'allegrezza.
{Entra.)
ATTILIO (a ViUorio )
Voi conoscete Fabrizio figliuolo
Di maestro Manente ?
VITTOBIO
Si conobbilo
Mentre ch' e' visse.
ATTILIO
Dunque il conoscete
Perch' egli è vivo.
VITTOnlO
0 non fu egli morto
Là verso Roma ?
ATTILIO
NuUa ! ei si parti
Per collora ch' egli ebbe con suo padrc
E per disperazione chc una \edova
De 'Giuochi che sta 11, non voile dargli
Una flgliuola sua per moglie ; e si
Pensô che il padre avesse fatto ufizio
E in segreto e in pubblico gagliardo,
Poichè ne senza dote, ne in segreto
PA\a non voile consenlire a dargliela,
Che in palese l'avea negato il medico
Rispelto délia dote ch' era debole.
G. M. Cecchi.
Dissertation française.
L'histoire en Italie au x\v siècle, et en particulier dans l'œuvre de Benedetto Vaixhi :
inspiration, conception, matériaux et procédés.
Dissertation italienne.
ïra le varie leslimonianze che la Firenze del Trecenlo ci ha tramandate intorno alla
sua vita morale (pocmi, novelle, cronache, ecc), quali sono le più altendibili e perché?
[525] SUPPLÉMENT 85
Cerlificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement secondaire
des jeunes filles (1907).
{Thème et version. — Temps accordé : 4 heures.)
Version allemande.
S;a§ %ai Chamouni, tn bem loir un§ ïiefinben, liegt \tijX ï)od^ in ben (Bebitgen, ift ettoa
jec^§ ï)i§ fieben ©tunben kng unb geïjtsiemïic^ bon ^ittofl segcn ïllitterna(ï)t. Sîer (s'^ûïaïter,
bet mit e§ bot anbern auijeic^net, ift, ba^ e§ in fetner 5]îitte foft gav feine ^'ylac^e '^ot,
fonbern bai ©rbrei^, tcie eine 53hitbe, fic^ gteic^ Don ber Arve auëgegen bie î^ijc^ften ©ebirge
anjc^miegt. %tx Montblanc unb bie ©ebirge, bie «on i'^m '^erabfteigen, bte (Jiymaîfen, bie
biefe unge'^earen fîliifte ûuêfiillen, madjen bie oftlic^e 2Banb au§, an ber bie gonge Sange be§
îati "^in fieben ©ïetfcfjer, einct grofjer ûï§ bev anbere, ^erunter îommen. llnfere Jii^ïer, bie
mit gebingt ï)atten, ha^ Siênteer gu fe'^en, famen bei 3e'ten. S)ei- eine ift ein riiftiger, jungcr
SBuïfdje, ber ûnbre ein fc^on altérer unb fid^ ftug bikufeuber, ber mit allen geletirten
gremben SPerfefir gefjatit ï)at, bon ber Sefc^affen'^eit ber giêtierge fe'^r tt)o^l unterric^tet unb
ein fe'^r tiic^tiger 5}îann. ®r nerfic^erte un§, bafe feit oc^t unb jhianjig 3ûf|i"en — fo lange
fiiïir'er Jrembe auf bie ©ebirge — er jum etftenmat fo fpat im ^o.1)x, nac§ îtUer^eitigen,
iemanb '^tnaufbringe ; unb boc^ follten h)tr alleë eben fo gut toic im îtuguft fel^en.
©oetl^e.
Théine allemand.
Mes hôtes étaient de braves gens. Ils me donnèrent une petite chambre blanchie à
la chaux, une table de bois blanc, deux chaises de paille, un bon matelas bien mince,
une couverture et des draps de coton. Un bois de lit est une superfluité dont les Grecs
se privent aisément, et nous vivions à la grecque. Je déjeunais d'une tasse de salep,
je dînais d'un plat de viande avec beaucoup d'olives et de poisson sec ; je soupais de
légumes, de miel et de gâteaux. Les confitures n'étaient pas rares dans la maison, et,
de temps en temps, j'évoquais le souvenir de mon pays, en me régalant d'un gigot
d'agneau aux confitures. Ce qui contribua surtout à m'acclimater dans la maison de
mon hôte, c'est un petit vin qu'il allait chercher je ne sais où. Je ne suis pas gourmet,
et l'éducation de mon palais a été malheureusement un peu négligée ; cependant je
crois pouvoir affirmer que ce vin-là serait apprécié à la table d'un roi : il est jaune
comme l'or, transparent comme la topaze, éclatant comme le soleil, joyeux comme le
sourire d'un enfant.
Edmond A bout.
"Version anglaise.
A .MGHT IN THE FOUEST.
The early evening had fallen chill, but the night was now temperate ; out of
the recesses of the wood there came mild airs as from a deep and peaceful breathing ;
and the dew was heavy on Ihe grass and the tight-shut daisies.
This was the girl's first night under the naked heaven ; and now Ihat her fears were
o\erpast, she was touched to the soûl by ils serene amenity and peace. Kindly the stars
blinked down upon the wandering princess. The trces, the grass, the brook began lo
Avear a solemn freshness of appearance.
She looked ail about ; the whole face of Nature looked back, brimful of nieaning,
finger on lip, leaking ils glad secret. The princess looked up. Many stars had disap-
peared, and those which lingered shone with a changed and waning brightness. And
the colour of Ihe sky was the most wonderful ; for the ricli blue of the night had now
melted and softened, and Ihere had succeeded in ils place a hue that bas no name and
that is never seen but as the herald of the morning.
— " Oh ! " she cried, joy catching at her voice, — "oh ! it is the d^^^ n !
R. L. Stevenson.
Thème anglais.
Même texte que pour le thème allemand ci dessus.
86 SUPPLÉMENT 1526!
Version espagnole.
En el cielo, ya despejado, nadaban nubes obscuras, blancas en los bordes, como
montanas coronadas de nieve ; â impulses del viento corrian y desplegaban sus alas ; el
sol claro alumbraba con rayes de oro el campo, resplaiidecîa en las nubes, las enrojecia
como brasas ; algunos celajes corrian por el espacio, blancos jirones de espuma. Aûn
no manchaba la hierba verde las lomas y las hondonadas de los alrededores madrilenos;
los ârboles del Campo del More aparecian rojizos, esqueléticos, entre el foliaje de los
de hoja perenne : humaredas negruzcas salian rasando la tierra jiara ser pronto barridas
por el viento. Al paso de las nubes la Uanura cambiaba de color; era sucesivamenle
morada, plomiza, amarilla, de cobre ; la carrelera de Extremadura trazaba una linea
quebrada, con sus dos filas de casas grises y sucias. Aquel triste paisaje de los alrede-
dores madrilenos con su severidad torva y fria llegaba al aima.
Thème espagnol.
Je reviens encore à vous, ma bonne, pour vous dire que si vous avez envie de savoir,
en détail, ce que c'est qu'un printemps, il faut venir à moi. Je n'en connaissais moi-
même que la superficie; j'en examine celte année jusqu'aux premiers petits commence-
ments. Que pensez-vous donc que ce soit que la couleur des arbres depuis huit jours?
Répondez. Vous allez dire : « Du vert. » Point du tout, c'est du rouge. Ce sont de petits
boutons, tout prêts à i^artir, qui font un vrai rouge ; et puis ils poussent tous une
petite feuille, et comme c'est inégalement, cela fait un mélange trop joli de vert et de
rouge. Nous couvons tout cela des yeux ; nous parions de grosses sommes — mais c'est
à ne jamais payer — que ce bout d'allée sera tout vert dans deux heures; on dit que
non ; on parie. Les charmes ont leur manière, les hêtres une autre. Enfln je sais sur
cela tout ce qu'on peut savoir.
M'iie DE SÉVIGNÉ.
Version italienne.
Aveva un ricco mercante condotto dal Cairo una gran somma di piètre preziose, e
perche esse mancavano d'ornamento, convenue con un eccellente maestro, che in tal
fattura era peritissimo, di dargli ogni giorno certa somma di danari, acciochè per il
tempo che egli voleva lavorar le sue gioie, non dovesse servire persona alcuna, ma
attendere a lui solo. Onde il maestro per servirlo piglia\-aogni mattina i suoi strumenti,
e se n'andava a casa del mercante, e quivi tutto il giorno ad instanza sua la\ora>a, e la
sera riceveva il premio che era convenuto per la fatica e mercede dl quel giorno.
Avvenne che al mercante gli fu porlalo un bello strumcnto e buono da sonare. simile ad
un'arpa, per vedere se lo volesse in compra. La mattina a buon'ora venendoil maestro
per lavorar le gioie, la prima cosa che facesse il mercante fu ii mostrargli l'arpa.
Costui, pigliandola in mano (perche era eccellente musico e sonava questo strumento
benissimo), disse: <s Signore, vi piace egli che io suoni forse ?» — «Si, » rispose il
mercante. Egli allora, con mirabil arte e musica eccellcntissima e suave, cominciô di
bellissimi ricercari, e fu siffalta la dolcezza e l'armonia che il mercante lo fece sonare
tutto il giorno. La sera il maestro domandô foro per suo pagàmento, corne s'avesse
tutto il giorno lavoralo inlorno aile piètre preziose; il mercante negava volerlo pagare;
ed egli moslra>a che tutto il di a sua instanza, come gli allri giorni, era stato in casa sua.
E cosi fu forzato dal giudice, dopo moite dispute, a pagarlo di quella somma di danari,
come se egli l'avesse fatto lavorare.
Thème italien
Voilà les progrès que l'esprit humain avait faits pendant trente siècles. On remarque
pendant cette longue révolution de temps, cinq ou six hommes qui ont pensé et créé
des idées : et le reste du monde a travaillé sur ces pensées, comme l'artisan, dans sa forge,
travaille sur les métaux que lui fournit la mine. 11 y a eu plusieurs siècles de suite où
l'on n'a point avancé d'un pas vers la vérité ; il y a eu des nations qui n'ont pas contribué
d'une idée à la masse des idées générales. Du siècle d'.Vristole à celui de Descartes,
j'aperçois un vide de deux mille ans. Là, la pensée originale .se perd, comme un lleuxe
qui meurt dans les sables, ou qui s'ensevelit sous terre, el qui ne reparaît qu'à mille
lieues de là, sous de nouveaux cieux et sur une terre nouvelle. Quoi donc, y a-t-il pour
l'esprit humain des temps de sommeil et de mort, comme il y en a de vie el d'acti\ité ?
Ou le don de penser par soi-même est-il réservé à un si petit nombre d'hommes Pou les
grandes combinaisons d'idées sont-elles bornées par la nature et s'épuisent-elles avec
rapidité ? Dans cet état de l'esprit Inmiain, dans cet engourdissement général, il fallait
un homme qui remontât l'espèce humaine.
[527! SUPPLÉMENT 87
Bourses industrielles de voyage à l'étranger (1907).
Thème.
COMME?JT ON s'instruit EN VûTAGEANT.
Certes, j'ai eu l'occasion de rencontrer dans ma vie déjà longue beaucoup de vrais
savants, mais je persiste à croire que mon père, simple artisan de petite ville, est un
lies hommes les plus complets de tous ceux que j'ai connus. Il ne savait pas tout, la
chose est sûre, mais il savait un peu de tout, et, ce peu, il le savait bien, l'ayant appris
et presque deviné par lui-même. Son tour de France avait duré trois ans, et il avait
mis le temps à profit ; il s'était promené du Nord au Sud et de l'Est à l'Ouest ; et,
tout en travaillant de ses bras pour gagner le pain quotidien, il s'était servi de ses yeux
cl de ses oreilles : « Mon secret est bien simple, « disait-il ; « je n'ai jamais traversé un
champ sans regarder les plantes qui y poussaient, les bêtes qui s'y nourrissaient, et sans
échanger quelques mots de bonne amitié avec l'homme qui y travaillait ; jamais non
plus je ne suis sorti d'une ville, petite ou grande, sans avoir observé de mon mieux ce
qu'on y fabriquait ; ouvrier, j'ai partout trouvé des ouvriers qui savaient peu ou prou
leur affaire, et leurs leçons ne m'ont jamais coûté qu'une poignée de main. >■> D'ailleurs,
n'avait-il pas lui-même touché à tout, mis son petit talent au service de cent indus-
tries, construit des fermes, des fila'ures, des moulins, des pressoirs, des bateaux pour
la mer. Ah ! que le tour de France est une bonne chose et qu'on ferait bien d'y
pousser les jeunes gens de toutes les conditions!
Ed. Abol't. {Le Roman d'un brave homme.)
Version allemande.
Saë Çuftft^iff ,,8a %atxie" bn ©eliïiiber Sebaubi), ba§ im iS^'^te 1906 ferttggefteUt unb
erpi-obt iBurbe, befte^t au§ eincm gigarrenformigcn SSatlon bon 61 2Reter Sange, rtield^er
3150 ^ubitmeter &as, entrait. 2:ieier ift an einer ©vunbflcic^e befeftigt, bie au§ Stafjïro'^ren
be[tcf)t unb unterl^alb bie ©onbel mit bem 9J{otoï tviigt. Setjterer h)irb burc^ S^enjin geîpeift
unb entrticfelt 70 PS. ®r treibt jltei ^ropeller, ftjelc^e bem Sufticqtff eine fefunblid^e
@ei(i)tt)tnbigîett bon 12 12 93leteïn betïeitjen. %\e gefomte îvagfûïjigteit beïauft fic^ ouf
1 2611 fîitogramm. S;er SBallon ï)ût bereit§ eine grofee îtnjalit etfolgteiiijeï gafirten, auâi
bet «ngiinftigftem SBetter, auègefiif)ït. ^ebenfatlê biiïfte er bon fûd^mdnnij(^em Stanbpunït
au§ al§ ba§ boUfommenfte bev ejiftierenben Sufti^tfre ju bejeic^nen fein. ^iu mititarifc^e
3lt)ecïe ijat i^xanlxeiâ) nocf) ein Sebaubm'cfje» Cuftfc^ifi erbauen ïoffen, jtoei toeiteie foUen
bemndcf)ft fertiggeftettt metben.
Version anglaise.
IS NIGHT-WORK INEFFICIENT ?
Employers in America now hesitate to run their factories overlime or «ith night
shifts, because tliey bave found that night work is inferior lo day Avork. Artifîcial light,
for one thing, is a drawback, while the normal man bas less energy at night than in
daytime. An editorial article in the Iron Age of Nen" York says :
" Formerly, during times of great demand, most Avorks ran with night gangs, on the
theory that production could be increased correspondingly. While it was well recognised
that praclice did not work oui according to theory, Ihere was litlle réalisation of the
actual diiTerence between shop production during a night hour as compared to a day
hour. The cost System put the matterbeyond a possibility ofdoubt. demonstrating that
the différence in production is really \eTy large.
" Of course, automatic machinery will produce as much by night as by day, and the
coarser products, where brute strength or elementary skill is the chief élément in the
makc-up of the -workman, may be advantageously manufactured at night, though
Ihe production is seldom that of a day force. But when it comes to such labour that the
skill of the operator is the chief factor of production, or atleasta very important faclor,
Ihen the showing of night labour is muçh less satisfactory. The same thing is true of
overlime work.
" Men cannotand will not do the same work at night as they do in the daytime.
They bave not the same energy ; they are not li>ing the natural existence, for, by
reversing the periods of v^-aking hours and sleep wiien they are not accustomed to it,
Ihe normal poise is upset. Men working at night are very apt to take insufQcient sleep.
SUPPLÉMENT [528]
with drOAVsiness and lethargy as thc naturel result. Overtime workers wear ont after a
short lime, and musl be permitted to recuperate. ''
Rapport industriel.
Décrire une industrie à votre choix ; indiquer les procédés en usage dans cette indus-
trie et les progrès réalisés. Faire connaître les points sur lesquels doit porter votre étude
à l'étranger.
Appuyer de croquis, s'il y a lieu, les démonstrations techniques.
DEVOIRS PROPOSÉS
T. Las varias partes del vestido del hombre, las materias con que se hacen, el modo
de habilitàrselas.
2. (jBajo que formas diferentes se présenta el agua en la naturaleza? Sus usos princi-
pales.
(B. S. Aspirants, Grenoble, 2' session 1907.)
*
* *
Quali sono i materiali adoperati nella costruzione di una casa?
Quali sono le varie parti délia casa ?
A che cosa serve ogni parle ?
Quali sono i principali cibi deiruomo ?
Come si fa la raccolta del grano ?
Dite due parole intorno alla vendemmia.
iB. S., Aspirants, Chambéry, /'■^ session 1907 .)
DEVOIR CORRIGÉ
Brevet supérieur'.
Le stagioni dell'anno sono : la primavera, l'estate, l'autunno, l'inverno.
In primavera la temperatura si fa più mite, le giornale si allungano c la natura si
ridesta : le plante germogliano, i fiori sbocciano. D'estate il caldo diviene intenso, le
giornate sono lunghissime, le messi maturano; è la slagione délia villeggiatura, délia
vita air aria libéra. In autunno il freddo ricomincia a farsi senlire, le giornate grada-
famente si accorciano e cominciano a cadere le pioggie; è l'epoca dei raccolti e délia
vendemmia. L'inverno è la stagione in cui la natura riposa sotto il suo manto di neve
e di gelo; il freddo c intenso, e le giornate brevi e rigide fan ricercare e prediligere
l'ambiente chiuso e riparalo délia casa.
Le principali météore sono : la pioggia, la neve, la grandine, la rugiada, la brina,
la nebbia, il vento, le trombe d'aria, il tuono, il lampo, il fulmine, i fuochi fatui, 1 arco
baleno, l'aurora boréale, le stelle cadenti.
L'acqua, che è elemento liquido, portata a una temperatura inferiore agli :ero gradi,
gela, passando allô stato solido; riscaldata invece oltre i cento gradi bolle evaporando,
riducendosi a vapore acqueo, e passando allô stato gazoso.
Nei giorni délie vacanze i miei figliuoli, prima di tutto, fanno i loro lavori scrilli e
preparano le lezioni per la scuola ; terminati i loro compiti essi fanno una lunga passeg-
giata all'aria aperla, preferibilmenle in campagna ; tornali a casa si occupano varia-
mente secondo i loro gusti, le fanciuUc attendendo a qualclie lavoretto muliebre o a
qualche faccenduola domestica, i ragazzi disegnando, suonando il piano, tirando di
scherma o immergendosi nella letlura di (jualche piacevole libro.
{Aspirantes, Chambéry, !<'<- session 1907.)
I. Voir le texte dans le n° du 5 décembre 1907.
Bar-le-Duc. — Imprimeiie Conite-Jacquet, Facdouel, Dir.
Les Cinq Langues
N" 12. 20 Mars 1908. 8' Année.
SUPPLÉMENT
UNE CONFÉRENCE A L'ÉCOLE DES MÈRES
Nos lectrices (car c'est particulièrement à nos lectrices que s'adresse cet article)
ignorent peut-être ce c[u'est l'École des JMères. 11 serait trop long de le leur
expliquer aujourd'hui, puisqu'il va s'agir surtout d'une conférence qui y a été
faite le i8 février. Qu'elles sachent donc seulement que l'École des Mères, fon-
dée en 1897, est dirigée avec autant d'autorité que de compétence par une
femme d'une merveilleuse activité, M'"^ Augusta MoU-Weiss. Cette école a
spécialement pour but, nous dit M"" Moll-Weiss, d'occuper intelligemment la
jeune fille, de sa sortie de pension ou du lycée jusqu'au mariage, en la préparant
à son double rôle de maîtresse de maison et de mère, en lui donnant le moyen
d'exercer une action sociale, bonne et féconde. A l'École des Mères, on suit des
cours théoriques d'hygiène, d'économie domestique, de droit usuel, des cours
appliqués de soins aux malades, d'éducation de l'enfant, de musique, de dessin
d'ornement appliqué aux travaux féminins. On y apprend aussi à faire et à
transformer des vêtements, des chapeaux, à inventer ou à reproduire d'artis-
tiques dentelles. On y apprend encore à faire la cuisine pour les gens malades
et pour ceux qui ne le sont pas, on y enseigne même l'art de la pâtisserie.
Oui, la cuisine, qu'il est de si bon ton chez nous d'ignorer, au moins dans les
classes aisées, qui est si mal faite dans les classes pauvres où les femmes n'ont
pas le moyen de laisser ce soin à la cuisinière, est en honneur à l'École des
Mères.
On dit aux jeunes filles, aux jeunes femmes, qu'il est nécessaire pour elles
de savoir faire la cuisine aûn de diriger leur personnel en connaissance de
cause, qu'il n'est pas du tout dégradant de s'en occuper comme on l'a cru
jusqu'ici dans la bourgeoisie riche — et même dans la bourgeoisie moyenne.
Dernièrement, un journal mondain, très mondain, a déclaré qu'il étaitdu dernier
chic (il y a toujours des derniers chics] pour une maîtresse de maison de servir
à ses invités un plat confectionné par elle-même, et il a cité d'illustres cuisi-
nières, rien moins que l'impératrice d'Allemagne et celle de Russie. On va donc
peut-être se mettre à faire la cuisine par snobisme, mais qu'importe, si on la
fait tout de même. Espérons qu'on n'entendra plus désormais des réponses
stupéQanles comme celle de celte petite bourgeoise, mère de six enfants, à
laquelle on demandait si sa fille suivait les coui's de cuisine du lycée : « Je ne
paye pas les cours du lycée à ma fille pour en faire une cuisinière ; elle ne les
suit pas. )i Les cours de cuisine de l'Ecole des Mères sont très suivis, et, pour en
venir au sujet qui nous inléiesse directement, les conférences d'enseignement
supérieur du mardi sont très instructives.
Le mardi 18 février, nous avons eu la bonne fortune d'entendre M"° Brès,
inspectrice des écoles maternelles, parler des écoles mate.-nelles avec une
éloquence, une aisance, une sûreté qui nous ont prouvé qu'elle était enflammée
par son sujet et c^u'elle s'elTorçail de faire passer sa flamme dans les auditrices.
Nous essaierons de reproduire ici les passages les plus saillants de la confé-
[72] SUPPL. 12
90 SUPPLÉMENT ;570]
rence, mais il y manquera l'accent persuasif, enl rainant, doucement autoritaire
de M"" Brès, elle rayonnement de son regard.
Les écoles maternelles, chacun le sait, sont des écoles pour les tout petits,
pour ceux que les mamans ne peuvent pas ou ne veulent pas garder chez elles
— des écoles pour la classe pauvre ou peu aisée.
On y accepte les enfants de deux à six ans ; c'est dire, connue le remarque
fort judicieusement M"'= Brès, que le mot école ne devrait pas être employé,
puisqu'il implique des idées de règle, de discipline auxquelles on ne peut pas
astreindre vin pauvre bébé de 24 mois.
iSous n'avons malheureusement pas d'autre terme, et .M™^ MoU-Weiss nous
montre, après la conférence, comme il est en contraste avec les jolis mots Kin-
dergarten (jardin d'enfants) et Kindergartnerni (jardinière d'enfants). Malgré
le mol, les instilulrices devront bien se persuader que leur école n'en est pas
une, el que leurs bébés cjui savent à peine parler et marcher ont, avant tout,
besoin d'activité et de mouvement, qu'on ne peut, sans danger pour eux, les
contraindre au silence ou à l'immobilité. M"" Brès, qui s'est jjenchée sur
l'âme des enfants, qui a épié les moindres manifestations de levu' \ie physique
et intellectuelle, fait une foule de remarques personnelles et Qnes sur ce be-
soin d'activité des bébés, sur leur façon de prendre connaissance des objets en
les touchant ou en les portant à leur bouche. Outre le mouvement, il leur
faut de l'air, de la lumière. Cette dernière leur est parcimonieusement distri-
buée, ou plutôt pas comme elle devrait l'être. Les règlements indiquent que
les fenêtres doivent se trouver à i'",5() au-dessus du sol. Les enfants sont donc
dans une boîte opaque éclairée par en haut. Kl celle disposilion peu intelli-
gente les empêche d'observer tout ce qui se passe dans la cour.
On objectera c[ue les enfants pouiTaient se jeter dans les grandes baies vitrées
à partir du parquet el s'y blesser. On éviterait tout accident en établissant
devant les baies un grillage en fil de fer qui n'arrêterait ni la vue, ni la
lumière Autant que la lumière, l'air est nécessaire aux bébés. Par les jours de
beau temps, les enfants des écoles maternelles devraient rester dehors toute la
journée.
C'est ce c^ue ne comprennent pas assez les institutrices. Dans les quatre
coins de la cour, on peut installer quatre classes. Et le déménagement ?
objectent-elles. Mais il sera fait par les enfants eux-mêmes : les plus grands
seront enchantés de transporter dans la cour leur petit matériel.
Mais, disent-elles encore, à quoi les occuper toute une journée dans la cour ?
11 est bien entendu ciu'on ne s'y tient qu'à la belle saison : au printemps, en
été, au commencement de l'automne. On leur fera observer la vie des planles,
celle des animaux, des oiseaux surtout qui ne manqueront pas de venir bàlir
des nids dans les arbres de la cour. On les rendra attentifs au joli manège de
l'oiseau construisant son nid; on leur fera tellement aimer les oiseaux que plus
tard ils n'oseront penser à les détruire. Un papillon, une mouche, vin hanne-
ton, tout sera matière à conversation. Et quand les sujets seront épuisés, il leur
restera les joujoux. Aux bébés de l'école maternelle, il faut des joujoux. On
pouvait autrefois commettre cette hérésie de leur demander s'ils savaient lire;
on s'informera maintenant s'ils jouent bien. Pour les maîtresses des écoles
maternelles, le problème à résoudre est le suivant : avoir des^ jouets, beaucoup
de jouets, puisque leurs écoles sont bourrées d'enfants, el pour ces jouets si
nombreux, dépenser non pas de gros sous, mais des centimes, ou encore mieux,
rien du tout.
Et M"« Brès nous présente des jouets qui ne coûtent rien, des jouets
inventés par les maîtresses qui ont fait dos prodiges d'ingéniosilé et de patience.
La conférencière insiste d'autant plus sur cette nécessité des jouets que certaines
municipalités se refusent à en donner, en disant : « Des jouets à l'école ! Oh
n'y vient pas pour jouer, mais pour travailler. ■■ Les femmes, elles, savent fort
bien que des bébés de 2 à 6 ans, qui peuvent rester à l'école de 7 heures du
malin à 7 heures du soir, ont besoin de jouer. Les éducateurs, dignes de ce
[571 I SUPPLÉMKNT 91
nom, comprennent d'ailleurs l'importance du jeu. La Revue Les Cinq Langues
publiait dernièrement un article d'un pédagogue allemand, soulignant l'im-
portance des jeux à la maison et le devoir des parents de douner à leurs enfants
du temps pour jouer et de quoi jouer vraiment. M"<= Brès veut que les enfants
qui ne jouent pas cliez eux jouent à l'école. 11 faut qu'on invente pour eux des
jeux représentant la vie, car ils l'ignorent complètemeiil puis([u'ils sont toute
la journée enlevés à leur famille.
Un enfant qui reste chez lui voit tout ce qui s'y passe : il voit faire le ménage :
si c'est une petite fille, elle veut imiter la maman ou la bonne, frotter, épous-
seter, éplucher les légumes; elle est poussée en cela par son instinct — elle
voit, elle apprend. L'enfant sort, accompagne sa mère aux achats, c'est pour
lui une joie intense, il vit et regarde vivre. Pour les autres, ceux qui ne sont
pas chez eux, il faudra reproduire la vie avec des joujoux.
La poupée jouera un grand rôle. L'école maternelle aura des collections de
poupées. Elles ne pourront pas èti'e très belles, puisqu'on n'a pas d'argent.
Mais on s'est basé sur ce principe que les enfants éprouvent toujours l'affection
la plus vive pour la plus laide de leurs « ûlles », pour celle cjui a perdu, dans
la bataille de la vie, une partie de ses membres. Et M"'' Brès nous présente une
poupée a modèle », « type », faite avec une (|uille. Oui, une quille habillée c{ui
a des semblants de bras et une robe blanche formée d'un cercle d'étoffe dans
laquelle on a percé un trou pour la tète, deux trous pour les bras. Coulisse au
cou, coulisse à la taille. La toilette est complète et décente, et la poupée-
quille est en robe cloche. Il y avait bien les poupées de papier, mais elles
duraient peu, se déchiraient, se salissaient Peu pratiques, les poupées de
papier ! M"<' Brès nous détaille éloquemment toutes les qualités des poupées-
ciuilles, et elle va nous montrer letn- iniluence moralisatrice.
La maîtresse possède, elle aussi, une collecUon de poupées : le père, la mère,
les enfants, frères, sœurs, cousins, cousines; elle les fait agir dans des scènes
très simples, à la portée des tout petits. Voulez-vous des exemples de tout le
bien que peuvent faire les poupées ? Dans l'école où l'on emploie les poupées-
quilles, on les déshabille tous les huit jours, on leur fait subir un nettoyage à
grande eau. Les enfants baignent leurs poupées et les essuient soigneusement.
On leur met ensuite leurs robes cjui, elles aussi, ont été lavées.
Les enfants rentrent chez eux, nous dit M''^ Brès, et demandent que toutes
les semaines on les baigne dans un cuvier comme leurs poupées et qu'on
nettoie leurs vêtements comme la robe de leurs poupées. En habillant et
déshabillant leurs poupées, ces mêmes enfants ont appris à devenir adroits
et à dénouer les coulisses sans les casser. Ils saïu-ont désormais se déshabiller
convenablemen t.
La maîtresse couche ses poupées ; avant de les coucher, elle les débarbouille
de pied en cap, d'abord pour enlever toute la poussière de la journée, puis
pour qu'elles ne salissent pas leurs draps.
Les enfants, eux aussi, voudront être débarbouillés chaque soir comme l'ont
élé les poupées ; les mamans qui n'y avaient pas pensé prendront cette bonne
habitude, et la santé des enfants ne fera qu'y gagner. La maîtresse préparera
le déjeuner de ses poupées — du lait, une farine alimentaire ciuelconque — et
bientôt les enfants verront une appétissante bouillie dont la maîtresse leur
vantera toutes les qualités.
Les enfants, chez eux, ne manqueront pas de demander une bouillie comme
celle de leurs poupées et finiront, à force de supplications, par l'obtenir.
Ce serait là un grand progrès, nous dit M"« Brès, qui a constaté souvent,
au cours de ses inspections, que les enfants venaient en classe après avoir
absorbé du café noir, du café au lait additionné d'eau-de-vie, ou bien encore
de la charcuterie, presque jamais un aliment qui leur convint.
Les poupées auront donc exercé une heureuse influence sur le régime ali-
mentaire des enfants et sur leur hygiène.
Après les poupées, M'"^ Brès nous fait voir d'autres jouets tout aussi ingé-
92 SUPPLÉMENT [572]
nieux et peu coûteux. Un bilboquet, inventé dans une école maternelle de la
ville de Paiis, composé d'un cornet de papier assez i-ésistant, d'une ficelle et
d'une balle de laine, puis des balles légères en raphia, des balles en papier
malaxé faites avec de vieux papiers, un service de table en carton, des ani-
maux également en carton. Tout ce qui doit être debout se tient parfaitement
en équilibre grâce à une légère planchette de bois collée derrière l'ustensile
ou l'animal. Les grands magasins d'ailleurs commencent à vendre à ti'ès bas
prix (o fr. 35) des animaux articulés en carton qui peuvent faire la joie des
petits.
Nous avons vu encore des colliers de perles dont les peiles étaient des ser-
pentins de papier enroulés avec un trou au milieu pour laisser place au fil,
des bracelets composés de graines de potiron argentées et montées sur un fil.
enfin des jeux de patience fabriqués par les maîtresses : deux images collées
des deux côtés d'un morceau de carton, les mêmes images découpées en
petits morceaux, tous ces petits morceaux enfermés dans un sac et donnés aux
enfants en même temps que l'image modèle à reconstituer. Voilà de quoi
exercer leur imagination, leur ingéniosité et occuper leurs petits doigts. Pour
les plus petits, des images coupées simplement en deux, puis en quatre.
Enfin, nous avons pu admirer des jeux de construction composés de cubes
en carton cousus à chaque arête, cubes fort peu coûteux el n'ayant pas
l'inconvénient de faire du bruit comme les cubes de bois.
En résumé, tout, chez nous, a été mis en œuvre pour distraire les petits et
pour leur faire aimer l'école maternelle où, nous dit en terminant M"« Brès,
il faut leur donner avant tout de l'air, de la lumière et de la joie.
M™*= Moll-rWeiss, tout en admirant l'éloquence entraînante de la conféren-
cière et l'ingéniosité des institutrices qui s'efforcent de faire quelque chose
de rien, ne peut s'empêcher de comparer les écoles maternelles de France aux
Kindergarten d'Allemagne. Elle cite, entre autres, le Pestalozzi-Frobel-Haus de
Berlin, où les petits sont installés dans une maison de briques roses, inondée
de lumière et entourée d'un parc peuplé d'oiseaux, et un Kindergarten de
Dresde, et l'on est bien forcé d'être de son avis. Disons encore, avec M™' Moll-
Weiss, que le personnel de nos écoles est souvent surchargé, tandis qu'on
trouve en Allemagne des « jardinières d'enfants » bénévoles, des jeunes filles
appartenant à la haute société qui vont un an, deux ans, dans les Kindergar
len apprendre à élever et à soigner les enfants des autres afin de savoir plus
lard élever les leurs.
En attendant, telle qu'elle existe, notre école maternelle d'aujourd'hui est
en grand progrès sur celle d'autrefois.
M"' Brès constatait, au début de sa conférence, que les instilufrices ne
faisaient pas assez la classe en plein air. Nous sommes, à ce sujet, plus opti-
miste qu'elle, peut-être avons-nous tort, car M"<= Brès doit être admirablement
documentée. IMais les directrices d'écoles maternelles que nous connaissons
passent une partie de l'année dans la cour, et ce n'est pas d'aujourd'hui. Nous
voudrions pourtant bien croire qu'elles ne constituent pas une exception.
Il se peut fort bien que M""^ Brès soit tombée les jours de pluie chez celles
qui ont l'habitude « d'aérer » leurs élèves — il y a de ces malices du sort et de
ces malechances d'inspection — et pour peu qu'elle soit allée les jours de
grand soleil chez celles qui ont peur de l'air, elle se sera dit que les enfants
ne respiraient pas assez.
Qu'elle nous permette encore une autre objection. Nous ne croyons pas aussi
fermement qu'elle à la vertu moralisatrice de la poupée. Les enfants deman-
deront sûrement à être débarbouillés, peignés comme leurs poupées, parce
(jue la « demoiselle » le leur aura suggéré. Mais ils se heurteront le plus
souvent à l'inertie, à la paresse, ou à l'excès de fatigue physique de leur
maman, et, comme autrefois, on leur débarbouillera simplement le bout du
nez.
Ils demanderont aussi une bouillie comme celle de leurs poupées. Et, encore
1573] SUPPLÉMENT 93
une fois, le plus souvent, on continuera à leur donner du café noir, du café au
lait mélangé d'eau-de-vie, heureux encore quand ils n'ont pas absorbé,
comme premier déjeuner, un morceau de pain trempé dans de l'eau-de-vie
pure.
Que M'" Brès fasse un jour des inspections dans les écoles de village de cer-
tain vignoble fameux, et elle sera édifiée à ce sujet. Et pourtant les instituteurs
et les institutrices y font tous une guerre acharnée à l'eau-de-vie.
M'i'^ Brès me pardonnera mon scepticisme ; je dois ajouter d'ailleurs qu'elle
entraîne les mécréants. Pendant qu'elle parlait, j'ai cru aveuglément à la
poupée, et si je l'entendais de nouveau demain, je recommencerais à y croire.
M. -A. Bloch.
SUJETS D'EXAMENS ET CONCOURS
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement
des langues vivantes dans les écoles normales (1907) '.
{Aspirants et Aspirantes .)
Thème commun aux langues anglaise, allemande,
espagnole et italienne.
UiNE POURSUITE.
Je courais sans regarder en arrière. La stupéfaction de mes gardiens me donna dix bon-
nes minutes d'avance. Mais ils ne perdirent pas de temps à s'accuser l'un l'autre, car j'en-
tendis bientôt leurs pas qui me suivaient de loin. Je redoublai de vitesse; le chemin
était beau, égal, uni, fait pour moi. Nous descendions une pente rapide. J'allais éper-
dument, les bras collés au corps, sans sentir les pierres qui roulaient sur mes talons, et
sans regarder où je posais mes pieds. L'espace fuyait sous moi ; rochers et buissons
semblaient courir en sens inverse aux deux côtés de la route ; j'étais léger, j'étais rapide,
mon corps ne pesait rien : j'avais des ailes. Mais ce bruit de quatre pieds fatiguait mes
oreilles. Tout à coup ils s'arrêtent, je n'entends plus rien. Seraient-ils las de me pour-
suivre ? Un petit nuage de poussière s'élève à dix pas devant moi. Un peu plus loin, une
tache blanche s'applique brusquement sur un rocher gris. Deux détonations retentissent
en même temps. Les brigands venaient de décharger leurs pistolets, j'avais essuyé le
feu de l'ennemi et je courais toujours. La poursuite recommence; j'entends deux voix
haletantes qui me crient : « Arrête ! Arrête ! » Je n'arrête pas. Je perds le chemin, et
je cours toujours, sans savoir où je vais. Un fossé se présente, large comme une rivière-
mais j'étais trop bien lancé pour mesurer les distances. Je saute, je suis sauvé 1 Mes
bretelles cassent, je suis perdu !
E. Abolt (Le roi des montagnes).
Version allemande.
2)cï flîl)clufttotn.
3n bem ev'^abenften unb ïievrlic^ften ^^tittelpurifte be§ tnac^tigen 2lîpengiirteï§ '^ongen an
^immel^o^en ?'5el§9'Pfeïn "le^t oï§ brei^unbett ©letidjer, luelc^e bem 9î^ein if)te boUcn,
toBcnben ©ertûffer jujenben. 2Bo fie au§ bem SeBttge "^erDortveten, ba ïieruf)igen unb lautcnt
fic^ biefe ungeftiimeu îUpenfoîine in ctïua fiinfje'^n ber groBten unb fcfjonften Seen, — uner;
griinblic^en, imaragbnen a?ecfen, '^ieï bon unerîtimmbaren getfen etngcengt, bort non
^tebenpgeïu unb giûnen 5Jîatten umïranat, — einev faft loie ba§ 'DJÎeer — unabfe^ar.
iîïiftaUIjetle gluten entfttomen biefen ©een in raîcfjem, hoâ) fi^on rul}igerem Sauf. SSaïb in
etnem Sette tierntif(^t, toogen fie mcic^tig unb friebïicfj bûijiu buvc^ lûc^enbe gtuten, an
ftattïic^cn gâjtoffern, ïio'^en 2;omen, ïunftreirfjen, Beleblen (Stabten uoïbei, bcnen fie reic^e
Saften jufû^ren. |)o'^e SBalbgebirge rtinîen tang au§ blauer Jerne, fpiegein \\à) bann in
I . Temps accordé : 4 heures pour le thème et la version réunis, 3 heures pour la
composition en langue étrangère, 3 heures pour la rédaction en français.
94 SUPPLÉMENT [574]
bem ïievïlid)en ©tïom, ïn§ ex bie toette, id)ïûnfenIoie (Sbene betïttt unb nuu bent ©cfjo^e
bcê 3)îccve§ jufc^ïei^t, iîjm inâc^tige 2Baffeïf:|3cnben 311 bïingen unb ftc^ bafùf in jeinem
©ebtet eiu neue§ £anb ju ertauen.
SBo ift bcr ©tïom, ben feine SËài)n fo burc^ ïauter fïuc^tïiate, freie, gcbilbete Canbi(ï)aften
fiUjrtc v .Çaten anbeve Wett grofiete SBaîfevfiille unb aSreite, fo '^at beï 9îr)etn tiare, immer
DoUc, ii)$ faft gleid) bleibcnbe gluten, — fo ift feine Sveitc gerabe bie rei^tc, Ijinveirfjenb fiir
gtojj unb ©(^iff, fiir aUcn SSerïe'^r ber SGôlteï, unb bocf) uic^t fo grofj, ba§ fie bie ïieiben Ufet
Don einanber f(^iebe, ba^ nic^t ber erîennenbc SBlicf, ber taute 9îuf unQet)iubert ïiiniiBerreic^te.
5Jtad)tig unb eî)rfurd)tget>ictenb erf($etnt er aie ein Beluegter SBafferfpiegel, in ben ïieiterften
îHaïimen gefaRt, nici)t oli? eine mafferigc Ôbe mit netligen Ufern.
9]tenbeI§foï)n.
Version anglaise.
Population and national greatness.
The weallli of a nation dépends in the long run upon Ihe conditions, mental and
bodily.of the people of whom it consists.and Ihe expérience of ail mankind déclares that
a raceof mensoiind in soûl and linibcanbe bred and reared only in the exercise of plough
and spade, in the freeair and sunshine, with counlry enjoyments and amusements, never
amidst foui drains and smoke blacks and the elernal clank of machinery. And in the
England which thèse politicians designed for us there Avould be no country left save the
pleasure grounds and game préserves of the rich. AU else would be lown. There would
benoroomin any other shape for the crowded vvorkmenwho wereto remain as the creators
of the weallh. What England would become was to be seen already in the enormously
extended suburbs of London and our greal manufacturing cities : miles upon miles
of squalid lanes, each bouse tlie duplicate of ils neighbour ; the dirly street in front,
the dirly yard behind, Ihe fetid smell from the ill-made sewers, the public house at the
slreet corners. Herc, wilh no sight of a green field, with no knowlcdge of flowers or
(orest, the blue heavens ihemselves dirtied with soot — amidst objects ail mean and
hideous, wilh no enlcrtainment but the music hall, no pleasure but in the drink sliop
— hundreds ofthousands of Englisti children are now growing up intomen and women.
And \A ère thèse scènes to be indefmilely multiplicd ? Was this lo be the rcal condition of
an ever-increasing porlion of the f^nglish nation ? .\ndwasitto be supposed that a face
of men could be so reared n ho could carry on the great traditions of our counlry ? 1
for one could not belie\c it.
J. A. 1''roudk (Oceana).
Version espagnole.
A las cualro de la larde, la chiquilleria de la cscuela pi'iblica de la plazuela del Limon
saliô atropelladamente de clase.con algazara de mil demonios. Ningunhimno à la liber-
lad, entre los muchos que se han compueslo en las diferentes nacioncs, es lan hermoso
como el que enlonan los oprimidos de la ensenanza elemental al soltar cl grillete de
la disciplina escolar y echarse à la calle piando y saltando. La furia insana con que se
lanzan â los mâs arriesgados ejercicios de volalineria, los estropicios que suelen causar
;i algi'm pacifico transeunte, el delirio de la aulorioniia individual que à veces acaba en
porrazos. h'igrimas y cardenales, parecen bosquejo de los triunfos revolucionarios que
en edad menos dichosa han decelebrar los hombres... Salieron, como digo, en tropel ;
el ûllimo queria ser el primero y los pequenos cbillaban nias que los grandes. Entre
cllos habia uno de menguada estalura, que se aparlù de la bandada para emprendcr
solo y calladilo cl camino de su casa. Y apenas notado por sus companeros aquel apar-
lamienlo que nifis bien parecia huida, fueron tras cl y le acosarou con burlas y cuchu-
fletas, no del mejor guslo. Uno le cogia del brazo, olro le refregaba la cara con sus
manos inocentes, que eran un dechado comiilelo de cuantas porquerias hay en el mundo ;
pero él iogrô desasirse y... pies, para que os quiero. Enlonces dos 6 très de los màs
desvergonzados le liraron piedras, gritando Miau; y loda la parlida repitiù con infernal
zipizape : Miau, Miau.
Perez Galdùs (Miau).
Version italienne.
L'imprcssione onde immaginô queslo speltacolo, Dante, come ci dice, la toise dai cie-
chi seduti innanzi aile chiese nei giorni solenni del Perdono. E Tommaso da Celano,
nella vila seconda del Poverello che primo schiuse la porta del perdono agli uomini del
suo secolo, dopo aver fatlo un'alta Iode délia Porziuncola, cioè délia povera chiesetta
575]
SUPPLEMENT
9o
del piano d'Assisi, dove quosto falto spir
visione d'un contemporanoo che mi par
rapprcsentata :
•' Ma iicca 11 occhi per l'aer ben flso,
E vedrai gente innanzi a noi sedersi.
E ciascun è lungo la groKa assise. "
AUora plù clie prima li occhi apersi ;
Guarda' mi innanzi, e vidi ornière con
[manti
Al color deila pietra non divers! .
i'^ poi che fummo un poco più avanli,
Udi' gridar : " Maria, ôra per noi ! ",
Gridar Micliele, ePielro,e tutti i Santi.
Ncn credo clie per terra vada ancoi
Uomo si duro, che non fosse punto
Per compassion di quel cli' i' vidi poi :
Chè, quando fui si presse di lor giunto
Che li atti loro a me venivan certi,
Per li occhi fui di grave dolor munto.
ituale prima prese forma sensibile, racconta la
sorella di qnella nei segnenti versi di Dante
Di vil cilicio mi parean coperti,
E l'un sofTeria l'altro con la spalla,
E tutti dalla ripa eran sofferti.
Cosî li ciechi, a cui la roba falla,
Stannoa' perdoni a cliieder lor Ijisogna,
E l'nno il capo sopra l'altro avvalla,
Perche in altrui pielà tosto si pogna,
Non pur per lo sonar délie parole,
Ma per la vista che non meno agogna.
E come alli orbi non approda il sole,
Cosi all'ombre, dov' io parlav'ora,
Luce dei ciel di se largir non vuole :
Chè a lutte un fil di ferro il ciglio fora,
E cuce si, com'a sparvier selvaggio
Si fa, perô che queto non dimora.
Composition en langue étrangère.
En rangeant votre bibliothèque, une phrase de votre histoire vous est revenue à
l'esprit: « L'inAcntion de l'imprimerie a changé la face du monde. » Justifiez cette
pensée, en l'appliquant surtout au pays dont vous étudiez la langue.
Rédaction en français.
Sur ulne questio.x D'Ki)uci.TioN ou d'emseio.vkmknt.
Examiner le rôle de la confiance en éducation : confiance de l'enfant en son maître,
confiance du maître en l'élève, confiance de l'enfant en lui-même.
Comment est il possible de la faire naître et de l'entretenir suivant l'âge des élèves P
DEVOIRS CORRIGÉS '
Version allemande.
Le tilleul, l'arbre favori du peuple allemand.
C'est dans la saison la plus chaude de l'année que le tilleul ouvre ses fleurs sans
nombre et en laisse échapper l'agréable parfum. Et l'Allemand s'assied alors volontiers,
le soir, en plein air, pour respirer, après la chaleur étouffante du jour, un air plus frais
embaumé par les senteurs du tilleul. Sous le toit ombreux formé par le feuillage de
cet arbre superbe, une boisson fraîche semble deux fois plus agréable ; sous le tilleul,
la jeunesse du village s'ébat jusqu'à ce qu'il soit temps d'aller au lit; sous le tilleul, le
grand-père et la grand'mère racontent volontiers à leurs petits -enfants attentifs les évé-
nements de leur jeunesse.
Ainsi le tilleul participe en quelque sorte à la vie intime de la famille; il fait partie
de la maison, et les vieilles gens vous diront comment plus d'une fois les senteurs des
tilleuls fleuris leur ont rappelé les souvenirs les plus doux, ont évoqué certains coins
de leur terre natale. W. Gruue.
Thème allemand.
Bei DEM gute.n Dortof. .
Nach dem Bauer erschien ein junges Miidchen.
« Nun, vvie geht es deiner Multer.^ » fragte sie der Doktor.
— Viel besser, Herr Minxit, aber sie kann nicht zu Kriiften kommen, und ich wollte
Sie fragen, \^as sie tun soll.
I. Voir les textes dans le n° du 5 janvier njoS.
96 SUPPLÉMENT [576]
— Du fragst micli, was sie tun soU, und icli welte, daf^ ilir keinen roten Heller
habt, um Heilmittel zu kaiifen!
— Leider nein, lieber Herr Minxit, denn niein Valer hat seit achl Tagen keine Arbeit
mehr.
— Aber, polztaiisend, was Hilll dann deiner Muller ein, krank zu werden ?
-- Seien Sie ohne Sorge, Herr Minxit, sobald mein Vater wieder arbeitet, werden
Sie fur Ihre Besuclic bezahlt werden.
— Gut, abermals eine Dummlieit! Ist denn dein V'ater verrûckt, dal-i er meine Besuche
bezahlen w'ill, wenn er seibst kein Brot bal! Du wirsleinen Korb voll alten Weines und
ein Ilammelsvierlel mitnebmen ; das ist yorliiufig, was deine Mutler braucht. Wenn
sie beute ûber z\A"ei bis drei Tage nichl wieder zu Ivriiften kommt, so lal-j es mir sagen. »
Claude Tillier (On/ve/ Benjamin).
BIBLIOGRAPHIE
.T. R. Lugné-Philipoîs. — Shorl plays for the Schoolroom. (Paris, Vuibert et
Nony, éditeurs. 1907. i vol. i8/i2<^" de io4 pages. Prix : i fr.)
Jules GuiRAUD. — School Theairicals : My Dog Dasli, a play in onc acl ; Caughl
in his own trap, a play in tlirce acis. (Paris, Librairie Belin frères. 1908.
1 vol. de 36 pages. Prix: i fr.)
Voilà deux petits volumes qui seront bien accueillis de tous les professeurs d'anglais.
Ils leur éviteront des recherches fastidieuses et pénibles; ils leur permettront de donner
à leur enseignement, à leurs classes, ce mouvement, cette vie, cet intérêt dramatique
qui, seuls, peuvent assurer le succès de leurs efforts. 11 y a plus de variété dans le
livre de M. Lugné-Pbilipon, qui ne renferme pas moins de 3'i courtes saynètes mettant
en scène les personnages les plus divers (Frédéric le Grand, Voltaire, l'Empereur
Hodolpbe de Habsbourg, Benjamin Franklin, etc.) ; la petite plaquette de M. J. Guiraud
est peut-être plus amusante. On n'en doutera pas quand on saura que Caught in his
own trap est une adaptation de la Farce de maître Patbelin.
Les deux ouvrages, par des mérites différents, se complètent : ils sont tous deux
d'une lecture aussi facile qu'attrayante, n'exigent aucune mise en scène et conviennent
aussi bien à des débutants qu'à des élèves déjà avancés.
E.-H. B.
Nous avons reçu la lettre suivante :
MONSIEUU LK REDACTEUR EN CHEF,
Lecteur assidu du \ouTual Les Cinq Langues auquel je suis abonné, j'ai lu avec étonne-
ment dans le Supplément du 20 février (Échos et Nouvelles) le passage relatif à la cri-
tique de l'Espéranto faite par MM. Brugmanî) et Lesrien de Leipzig. Cette information,
telle qu'elle est rédigée, pourrait faire croire que cette criticiue est toute récente, tandis
qu'elle a déjà été réfutée dans L'Esjiéranlisle de juillet 1907 et qu'elle est par conséquent
antérieure à cette date.
D'autre part, le numéro de février 1908 de Lingvo Inlernacia signale dans sa bibliogra-
phie les deux ouvrages suivants :
1° Die Weltspraclie-Dewegung ver dem Forum sacliverstJindiger Ivritik, von D'' W. Bon-
Gius (Berlin, HansTh. Hoffmann Verlagshuclihandiung) et Das Gnindgeseiz des Espé-
ranto fùrFrcunde und Gegner, von D'Artur Hlachstei.n (Wolfenbi'ittel, Heckner Verlag),
qui tous deux d'une manière très habile et très convaincue, soit entièrement et en détail
(Df Borgius), soit par des observations générales (D'' Blachslein), réfutent les attaques
faites à l'Espéranto par divers auteurs, en particulier par MM. Brugmann et Leskien.
Je serais très heureux si vous pouviez insérer celte mise au point, (jui pourrait peut-
être intéresser quelques-uns de vos lecteurs curieux de connaître l'état de !a question
de l'Espéranto.
Uar-le-Duc. — Imprimeiie Comte-Jacquet, Facuouel, l)ir.
Les Cinq Langues
N° 13. 5 Avril 1908. 8* Année.
SUPPLÉMENT
NOUVEAUX PROGRAMMES
Certificat d'aptitude au Professorat des écoles normales.
La liste des auteurs étrangers sur lesquels porteront les explications de textes
à l'examen du certificat d'aptitude au professorat dans les écoles normales et
dans les écoles primaires supérieures (ordre des letti'es) comprend, pour une
période triennale à partir de igog, les ouvrages suivants :
LANGUE ALLEMA.NDE.
Gœthe. — Hermann und Dorolhea.
Wildenbruch. — Das edle Bhil.
L\NGLE ANGLAISE.
Seeley. — The Expansion of England.
Wordsworth. — Sélections (The Lauréate Poetry Books, Bock X, Edward
Arnold).
LANGUE ESPAGNOLE .
Don Qaicholle : Seconde partie, les 3o premiers chapitres.
Guillén de Castro. — Las Mocedades del Cid : Première partie. (Collection
.Mérimée) .
Vital Aza. — Elsiieno dovado. (Madrid. Sociedad de Aulores espanoles. Nunez
de Bal boa, 12.)
LANGUE ITALIENNE.
Goldoni. — La Famiglia dell' Anliquario. (Edit. Boghen-Conigliani, Turin,
Para via . )
Tommaséo. — La educazione deW Italiano. (Edit. Falorsi, Florence, Barbera.)
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement des langues
dans les écoles normales.
La liste des auteurs étrangers et français sur lesquels porteront la lecture et
les explications de textes à l'examen du certificat d'aptitude à renseignement
des langues vivantes dans les écoles normales et les écoles primaires supérieures
comprend, pour une période triennale à parlir de 1909, les ouvrages suivants :
LANGUE FRANÇAISE.
Emile Augier. — Le gendre de M. Poirier.
Charles Bigot. — Lectures choisies de français moderne.
Bruno. — Franeinet. (Livre de l'élève.)
LANGUE ALLEMANDE.
D'" Wilhelm Paszkowski. — Lesebach zur Einfiihrung in die Kenntnis Deulsch-
lands, jusqu'à la page ii3. (Berlin, Weidmannische Buchhandlung.)
F. Avenarius. — Hausbuch deulscher Lyrik. (Georg Calhvey, Miinchen.)
[78] SDPPL. 13
98 SUPPLÉMENT [618]
Goethe. — Gcctz von Berlichingen.
Sudermann. — Fraa Sorge.
LANGUE ANGLAISE.
Green. — A short Hisiory of the English People, chap. IX.
Thackeray. — VanUy Pair : les 34 premiers chapitres.
Ivipling. — Mine oivn People (Tlie English Lihrary) : Namgay Doola ; —
Moti Guj, Mutineer.
Palgrave. — Golden Treasury of Songs and Lyrics (First Séries) : Book I\ .
LANGUE ESPAGNOLE.
Aicente Espinel. — Vida del escudero Marcos de Obregôn. (Barcelona. Biblio-
teca « Arles y lelras ».)
Calderén de la Barca. — El Alcalde de Zalamea.
Romancero caballeresco. (Biblioteca universal. Tomo i6.)
Benito Pérez Galdés. — La Fonlana de oro. (Leipzig : F. A. Brockhaus.
LANGUE ITALIENNE
Dante. — Enfer : Chants i3 et i4.
Guichardin. — Prose scelle. (Edit. Fornaciari, Florence, Barbera.)
Manzoni. — Inni.
Leopardi. — Prose scelle. (Edit. Fornaciari, Florence, Barbera.)
ÉCHOS ET NOUVELLES
Académie de la Chanson. — Concours pour 1908.
L'Académie de la Chanson, dont le siège est à l'Hôtel de la Chanson, à Lyon,
a ouvert pour ses membres les concoui-s suivants :
1° Concours de chansons (3 sections) ;
2'"' Concours de poésies ;
3° Concours de prose (sujet imposé) ;
4° Concours de comédie.
Ces concours seront clos le 3i mai 1908.
11 sera décerné des prix importants, cl la proclamation des lauréats aura lieu
en séance solennelle et publique au cours de Tannée 1908.
Demander le programme, par lettre affranchie, au Secrétaire de l'Académie
de la Chanson, !\, rue Montesquieu, à Lyon, à l'Hôtel de la Chanson
Bourses de vacances à l'étranger
{Personnel de l'enseignement primaire.)
Lesdemandes de bourses de vacances à l'étranger doivent être adressées à MM.
les Inspecteurs d'académie, chaque année, avant le i5 mai, pour parvenir au
Ministère de l'Instruction publique, par la voie hiérarchique, le i^'jnin au plus
tard.
Les bourses sont attribuées aux i^rofesseurs et instituteurs de l'enseignement
primaire (écoles normales, écoles primaires supérieures et écoles primaires) qui,
chargés d'un cours de langues vivantes, ne sont pas pourvus du certificat d'ap-
titude à cet enseignement.
Un renouvellement de bourse peut être accordé, exceptionnellement, au
candidat qui a échoué aux épreuves orales du dernier examen du certificat
d'aptitude aux langues vivantes.
[619! SUPI'LÉMKIST 99
NOMINATIONS UNIVERSITAIRES
— Des 24 janvier et 15 février 1908. —
Lycée de Lyon. — M. MI^,^o^, agrégé d'italien, est nommé professeur d'italien
au lycée de Lyon
M. Alignon est ctiargé, en outre, jusqu'à la fin de l'année scolaire 1907-1908
de faire, par semaine, deux conférences de langue et littérature italiennes.
— Du 14 lévrier. —
Collège de jeunes filles de Monlargis . — M""'- Xktz, née Delhom, professeur de
collège de jeunes filles, en congé d'inactivité, est chargée, jusqu'à la fin de l'an-
née scolaire 1907-1908, des fonctions de professeur d'anglais au collège déjeunes
filles de Montargis.
SUJETS D'EXAMENS ET CONCOURS
Baccalauréat Latiii-Langnes (octobre 1907).
[Matières à développer. — Temps accordé : 3 heures.)
Composition en langue allemande.
S)u ï)aft beiite jjerien auf bem Sanb tu einer icalbtgen, tt)itbretd)cu ©egenb, unlueit etneê
ÎJtuffeê tiertivac^t. Su îcfjteiBft an einen g^veuub, ber on bie ©tabt sefejfelt tvax, um i^m
bie 3tTt unb Ï8eife, luie bu bit bie S^\t Dertriebeii, 311 icï)tlbcrn : Saben, gifc^en, ^agen,
Subern, 3îabeln, \!hiteïn... u']W. Seine SSeîd^ditigungeu : Stubium ber '■Jtatutluiffenîi^aften,
SSotanifieten, Cefen. ^d]t ftift bu in ruï)igever ©timmung, gefrciftigt, ju ber betiorfte^enben
îtrOeit be§ ©.-^nljatity n)of)lgeriiftet in bie Stabt 3urii(ïgefe()ït.
{Alget .)
Composition en langue anglaise.
A young man lias left scliool for the suminer holidays.
' He writes to a friend and tells liim what a pleasant lime Ire has at home in the
country. (Counlry amusements and sports ; vvalking, riding, cycling, shooting, boating,
bathing, etc. )
Besides, he takes pleasure in making himself useful and often works in the fields
(har^ est- lime, grape-gathering.)
Such a life is doing liim a great deal of good, and will make him fit for another
year's hard work at school. i^lç^''-)
Composition en langue espagnole.
DrscripciÔiN de una knumd.iciox
Catâstrofe cruenta y asoladora. Detalles de los trâgicos sucesos : temporal de lluvias ;
crecida de los rios y su desbordamiento ; impetuosas corrlentes ; ruptura de los puentes ;
inmenso aluviùn; calles enfangadas; edificios derrumbados; cosechas y tiendas destro-
zadas 6 destruidas; sembrados y plantios arrasados; hortalizas arrastradas ; — multitud
aterrorizada, famélica : personas bloqueadas, pereciendo de fri'o ; voces pidiendo auxilio
6 implorando la caridad pablica; — mal olor de los animales muertos ; peligro de la
epidemia ; etc.
Rasgos de heroismo; junta de socorros para el reparto de los recibidos; suscripciôn
nacional, etc. {-'ikl^''-)
Composition en langue italienne.
La pioggia .
Cosa è la pioggia ?
In che modo è utile una pioggia discreta ? Danno d'una pioggia troppo abbondante :
di.sgrazie che puo cagionare (raccolte perdute. inondazioni, ecc. ) mger.)
iOO SUPPLÉMENT [6201
Composition en langue allemande.
Ein IMann liatle einen Hund, der so abgericlitet war, dal'i er in einem Kôrbchen ailes
vom Markte liolle, was auf einem eingelegten Zettel stand...
Einst wiirde er znm Fleischer geschickt ; man wollle sehen, \vie er sicli dabei beneh-
men wiirde, wenn die andern Hiinde wilterlen, was er triig. . .
Kaiim war er mitten auf deni Markle, so halte die ^Yurst schon viele Liebhaber ange-
lockt. . .
Als er aber sah, daP. er iibermannl wurde, war er aucli der erste, der die Wurst zu
fressen anfing... {Besançon.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
Canute (ioi6-io35), was a wise and powerful ruler, and lie go^erned the English
better llian many oftheir nati>'e kingshaddone. It is told ol" liini that one day, at Soulh-
amplon, his courtiers were calling bim king of tbe sea. . .
Canule Ihereupon commanded Ihem to place bis Ihrone close lo tbe niargin of tbe
water and bade the sea relire. . .
Then he turned to bis courtiers and bade them remark thaï Ihere was only one who
could stay the waves of the sea... {Besançon.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Una pecora diceva ad un paslore : « Tu raccogli da noi molla lana, lu mangi il noslro
« latte. Eppure codesto cagnaccio tu lo pregi più di noi. » Il cane sente questi lamenli
e rispose » Se io non fossi con voi, non sarebbero cosi abbondanti e sicuri i voslri pa-
« scoli. Io, qua e la correndo, allonlano da ^oi il ladro rapace e l'avido lupo ».
Spiegare e sviluppare questa fa vola. {nesançon.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Der FonsT i\ Gefahr.
Die Eisenbahndiimme sind in der beiften Jahreszeit Grasbriindenausgcselzt... Hervor-
gerufcn werden dièse Briinde durcb Funken aus den Schornsteinen. . . Oft viele hundert
Morgen Baumbestand sind dann schnell vernichlel. . . Die Forstverwaltung bat des-
halb... ein wacbsames .Auge. . . Die Sturmglocken ertunen... Die Landbevolkerung...
Aile sind. . . bevAaffnet. . . Auf dem Plalz ist der Forsler. . . Das Feuer ist. . . beworfen...
In langsamer Falirl passieren die Ziigc die gefiibrliclie Stelle... {Caen.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
UiNEXPECTED AUDITORS.
A priest, who bad usually a very small audience, was one day preacbing atthe cburch
in bis village, when, the doors being opcn, a gander and several geese came stalking
up tbe niiddle aisle.
The preacher, availing himselfof the circumstance, observed tbalhe could no longer
fînd fault wilh bis district for non-attcndance, because, thougb they did noi comc
themselves, Ihey sent Iheir représentatives. {Caen.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Ein Dieb wird verbaflet — ins Gefitngnis, dann >or fiericht geftihrt. — Die Gerichts-
verhandlungen. — Die Zeugen werden vorgerufen. — Anklagc. — Verteidigungsrede. —
Der Dieb wird verurleill. {Clermnnt.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Gtnem fiiiaticn '^ût man gcfagt : ,,-Xïtnte nie ïoUcS 2Bûf)ev, tocnn bu ev'^iljt fcift". fêï
tut e§. iScï)>î)cte §oIgen. 3îcue unb SSerjprrdieu. Safet oUc 'f)nubcïnben.^îcïjonen jum ©pvcd)eu
îomnten, fo oft e§ nui- niijglic^ ift : 3.^atcr, ÎJîuttev, "^Ir^t. {'Uermonl.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
Our dumb friends. — Wrile aboul Ibe dog and the cal. Describe their appearance,
vvays, uses, faults, and qualities. Which one do you prefer as a pet ?
{Clermont.)
[621] SUrPLÉMENT 101
Composition en langue anglaise.
Stalc Iiow tlie vine is grown and how wine is made. If you haveseeii vineyards^ des-
cribe one in Uie différent seasons of llie year and spealv at tlie same lime of Ihe worlts
of the vine grower : digging, lioeing, pruning, preparing vais and caslvs.
Did you ever gather grapes ? How do you like grape-gathering ? Wliat is done wilh
Ihe grapes afterwards ?
Compare llio wine lo ollier drinks. Wliich do you like besl ? Are you a leelolaler ?
Wliatdo you Ihink of leetotalers? And of drunkards ? {Clerinoiit.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Wald im Winler. Tiefer Schnee. Eine Jiigergesellscliaft. Ein Biirenlager wurde aufge
funden. Der Biir schlaft den Wintersclilaf unter dem Sclmee. Die Ilunde bellen. Der
Bar wacht auf. Die JJiger, die liinter groften Baumen slehen, scliiefien nach dem
langsam aufslehenden und brûllenden Tier. Lelzleres fallt, slehl wieder auf und wirft
sich auf einen Jiiger. Ein Angsigeschrei der Freunde. Endlich uird das Tier von einem
Bauer mil einer Axt getulet.
Sie erziililen dièse Jagd. (Dijon.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
Wl)al do you know of Ihe English nation, of Ihe character and manners of the
English, and wliatdo you Ihink of them ?
Do you know anything aljout early English history? about the varions invasions
thaï look place in England .^ about the history of Ihe English language ? about the
formation of the Brilish Empire? {Dijon. j
Composition en langue espagnole.
Una distribuciôn de premios en la escuela del pueblo. [Dijon.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Scriverete al voslro esaminalore e gli esporrele le ragioni perle quali avele scelto l'ila-
liano piuttosto dellinglese o del tedesco.
Chiuderele dicendo quel che sapete intorno alla letteratnra ilaliana, specialmenle
alla moderna. (Dijon.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Haben Sie in letzter Zeit ein Buch gelesen, das Ihnen besonders geliel ? GebenSiekurz
den Inhalt desselben an und sagen Sie, warumdas Buch Jhnen gefallen hat.
(Grenoble.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
^YRECR OF THE STEAMER '' BeRI.IN ".
The steamer Berlin, bound for Rotterdam, went off from Ilarwich on February
2olh 1907.
1. The start : friends on the pier to see her olT. Wavings of handkerchiefs, tears,
goodbyes .
2. The wreck. Waves high, wind very strong, snow. The vessel almost in the moutli
of the harbour when she struck on the pier-head and broke into two. ..
3. The rescue. (Grenoble )
Composition en langue italienne.
Nel mese di Luglio 1907 ITtalia e la Francia festeggiarono il centenario di Giuseppe
Garibaldi. Ricordiamo i lineamenli dell' eroica figura, i meriti di lui verso l'umanità,
verso rilalia. verso la Francia... (Grenoble.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Das riesenspielzeug.
Auf einer Burg in Elsal'^ wohnlen vorzeilen Rilter, die grolie Riesen waren.
Fines Tages ging das Riesen friiulein indasTal herab und schaute mit Verwunderung
102 SUPPLÉMENT [622]
die kleinen Hauern, die ihr Feld beslellten. Sie kniete nieder, spreizle ilire Schiirze aus,
stricli mit der Hand iiber das Feld. fing ailes ziisammen und tat' s hinein.
Zu Hanse angelangt, zeigte sie iliren Eltern das schone Spielzeug. Der Ritter aber
erkliirte seiner Tochler, es sei daskein Spielzeug. Die Baueni soUten ihr Feld bestellen,
soiist liiitten die Ritter nichts zu essen.
Das Fritulein mup.le Mensclien, Tiere und Pllug wieder hinab in's Tal bringen.
{Lille.
Composition en langue anglaise.
The tuo travellers.
Two travellers, Charles and Tliomas, left their village, hoping to make their fortune
in town. . . On their way Cliarles caughtsigbtof a purse full of gold lying in the road.. .
As he picked it up Thomas said : " Good luck for us ! " — " No," ansAvered Charles,
" not for us but for me". They quarrelled over the godsend a few moments, but Char-
les would not give a farthing to his fricnd. . . Shorlly afterwards, as they were passing
through a vvood, they met a gang of robbers. " VYe are lost ! " exclaimed Charles :
" No, " answered Thomas " not we, but you ".. And Thomas took lo his heels... Charles
was captured and had to hand over the purse to the robbers... {Lille.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Das Mahchen von Blaubart.
Blaubart war ein sehr halMischer Mensch, mit einem grimmen (jesichte und einein
blauen Barte. Er halle schon mehrere Frauen gehabt, und niemand wulUe, wo sie hin-
gekommen waren. Da er sehr reich war, gelang es ihni trotzdem, sich wieder zu ver-
miihlen. Eines Tages sagte er zu seiner Frau, er woUe verreisen. Er gibt ihr aile seine
Schliissel, verbietet ihr aber ein gewisses Kitmmerlein zu offnen. Kaum ist er fort, so
uffnet sie es. Sie sieht die frùheren Frauen Blaubarts, die, ermordet, an der Wand
hangen. Vor Schrecken liiÊt sie den Schliissel fallen ; er fiillt ins Blut, und sie kann
den rolen Flecken nichl mehr fortbringen. Nach seiner Riickkehr erkennt Blaubart,
dai-j seine Frau ins Kiimmerlein gegangen ist. Sie soll sterben. Sie bittet uni eine kleine
Frist und schickt ihre Schwester .Anna auf den SchlolUurm, um zu sehen ob ihre
beiden Briider nicht kommen. Lange sieht .\nna nichts. Blaubart wird ungeduldig. Im
Augenblicke, wo er seiner Frau den Ivopf abhauen will, stûrzen die Brader herein und
slechen ihn nieder. (Lyon.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
The .\raiî.
A poor Arab in the désert possessed nolliing but a niagnificent mare {jument) which
the French consul at Seyde wished lo buy for Louis XIV. — .\fler long hésitation and
pressed by wanl the Arab agrecd lo the sale, demandiug a very high priée. — The con-
sul wrote to the court and received the King's consent. — Now the .\rab arrived mount-
ing his beautiful mare, and the money was counted oui before him. — He looked at
the gold and at his fine horse. Then he sighed, and saying : « Why should 1 give you
lo Europeans who will make you misérable? » he turned away and rode back lo the
désert. {Lyon.)
Composition en langue allemande.
I. Sa§ 9}lceïe§ufeï.
II. gMie unb giut.
III. S)ic %xbcït am Wtecxe (^iji^crci, xi']K.).
IV. S)a§ SCeranligen am 53îccïc (Secl)abcr, uftv.).
{Sancij.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
The Sea.
Suppose thaï you hâve spent your holidays at the sea-side and describe, or imagine,
in a letter to a friend or in any form you please :
[623: SUPPLÉMENT 103
1. The varicus aspects of the élément : in the morning (at siinrise), at noon, in tlie
evening and at night.
2. The animation on the water and on shore, the life of a bathing-place (visitors,
fishermen, sailors).
3. Speak of the importance of tlie Océan in iiistory, and, if possible, in literature.
{yaiicy.)
DEVOIRS PROPOSES
1. Welches ist die Zeiteinteilung :'
2. Wer schneidet das Korn ? Wann und womit hillt man die Kornernte ?
3. Beschreibe mir einen Baum, z. B. eine Eiche.
!i . Welclies ist das nûlzlichste Tier fur den Menschen ? Wozu dient es uns .■'
5. \Vo findet man das Wasser? — Wie soU das trinkbare Wasser sein ?
\C. È. P. S., Ardéche, :/''■ session 1907.)
I. Make short sentences with the following words (subject : John. Verb in S^d person
singular présent indicative) : to wake up, to get up, to wash, to put on, to comb, to
brush.
■2 . Make sentences with each of the following words : laaie, blind, one-eyed, deaf, deaf
and dumb.
3. Make a description of summer in six sentences.
(C. É. P. S., Poitiers, Aspirauls, '2<' session 1907.)
DEVOIRS CORRIGÉS
1. When 1 want to write a letter, I oblain some paper, ink, and a pen ; write what I
wish, fold the paper, and put it into a stamped and addressed envelope.
2. A registered letter must now (in England) be put into a spécial envelope (varying
in size) to be bought at any post-office with a registration fee of two pence. Itmustbe
handed over the coiinter to the officiai at the post-office.
3. The letter is put into a mail-bag, conveyed to a larger office by mail-cart, and
there sorted out froni others. It is then sent to its destination.
4. Dear Jack, as I hâve a half-holiday on Thursday afteruoon, I wish that you could
corne round hère to tea. One or two other friends will behere also. Please let nie know ;
but I am sure you Avill not disappoint your alTectionate friend, Harry.
1. V'arios son, y muy variados, los oficios que se ejercen en las aldeas. Casi en lodas
ellas, el màs corriente es el de labrador^ pero segûn la importancia que tengan, el
numéro de vecinos, ô la proximidad de olras aldeas, en ellas se encuentran también
carreteros, lenadores, carboneros, herradores, afiladores de utiles de labranza y lôs de
absolu ta necesidad, como son los de vendedores de comestibles, que lo mismo se
encuentran en las grandes y pequenas capitales.
2. Enumerando las tiendas que en toda ciudad de regular importancia se encuentran,
se podrian llenar varias paginas. Figuran casi siempre en primer lugar y llaman la
alenciôn por su lujo, los establecimientos de modas en los que se encuentran trajes,
sombreros y adornos para sefioras; las joyerias, en cuyos bien dispuestos escaparates se
Voir les textes dans le n» du 20 décembre 1907.
104 SUPPLÉMENT [624]
ven brillar, colocadas en estnches, piedras preciosas de gran valor ; los mil estableci-
mientos donde se ^enden arllculos diverses, y, para goce y salisfacciôn de los ninos, las
tiendas dejiiguetes.
3. El tiempo se divide en siglos, que comprenden cien aàos cada uno ; kislros, o
periodos de cinco aàos : anos, que tienen trescientos sesenta y cinco dîas los comiines
y trescientos sesenta y seis los bisiestos ; nieses, que tienen, veintiocho, veinlinueve,
Ireinta y treinta y un dias ; semanas, que comprenden siete dias cada una ; dias, que
lienen veinlicuatro horas ; la hora, que tiene sesenta minutos, y el minuto que liene
sesenta segundos.
BIBLIOGRAPHIE
Clive holland. — Au Japon : Choses vues. — Traduit par Ll'g.né-Piiilipon.
— Vol. 25/18'^'° illustré, 4 fr. (Paris, Vuibert et Nony, 1908.)
Voilà un livre de voyages comme il n'en paraît plus guère : ni statistiques, ni éco-
nomie politique, ni philosophie sociale ; on ne compte ni l'encaisse des banques, ni
les contre- torpilleurs, ni les cheminées d'usines, ni les régiments et les corps d'armée.
On n'y trouve point de prophéties sur les chocs des nations et les destinées de la vieille
Europe. Bien plus, on n'y admire point des tirades éloquentes ni des morceaux de
haut style. Dirai-je que, la lecture terminée, je n'ai pas regretté de ne pas savoir
combien, au Japon, il y a de poules ou de bœufs, combien il y a de veuves, de faillis
ou d'estropiés ? Cela nous change un peu, à notre époque de reporters encyclopédiques
qui, après deux mois, un mois de séjour, connaissent à fond tout le passé, le présent
et l'avenir d'un peuple.
M. Clive HoUand s'est borné à nous dire ce qu'il a vu : le charme du Japon fleuri,
la manière dont on visite, on enterre, on travaille, on prie, à la ville et aux champs.
Et voilà tout. Mais comme il a bien regardé et comme il a bien rendu ce qui avait
frappé ses yeux, ses peintures sont la réalité même ; et comme il s'abstrait de son
livre, comme il nous épargne la description de ses états d'âme et de ses impressions
personnelles, nous avons la sensation d'être immédiatement en présence des choses et
des gens, sans intermédiaire encombrant, sans cicérone bavard. Tel est le mérite, peu
commun, de ce court ouvrage : ensemble de faits précis, sans commentaire, ou à peu
près, il a le caractère pratique et le bon sens que goûtent nos voisins les Anglais^ sans
la lourdeur qu'ont parfois leurs livres.
Est-ce à dire que l'œuvre de M. Ilolland soit une suite de photographies et que son
agrément tienne exclusivement à son exactitude ? L'auteur est un homme intelligent et
un homme de goût, sensible aux beautés de la nature, au charme des vertus familiales
et de l'urbanité. Très discrètement, il explique la mentalité de celte population encore
un peu mystérieuse pour nous, et d'un mot il indique ses sympathies quand il y a
lieu ; scrupuleux, il s'abstient de blâmer, sans doute par crainte d'avoir insuffisamment
pénétré le fond des cœurs et de juger témérairement. C'est dire que si l'ouvrage a une
grande valeur documentaire, il fait aussi réfléchir à l'occasion, et il est d'autant plus
suggestif qu'il n'a pas la prétention de l'être.
On le lit, d'un trait, avec plaisir. On lui pardonne d'èlre composé médiocrement et
partagé en chapitres dont le plan est malaisé à deviner. On croit faire au Japon un
voyage raiiide, amusant, comme on aimerait à en faire avec son fils, pendant les vacan-
ces : les scènes gracieuses ou mélancoliques se succèdent, diverses, mais intéressantes,
choisies avec discernement, de façon à ne choquer personne, à n'émouvoir jamais trop,
à ne jamais transformer le plaisir en fatigue. El on quille sa lecture désireux de faire
plus ample connaissance avec ce pays lointain, si anlicjue et si moderne, ce pays des
fleurs et des gigantescjues cuirassés, des artistes délicats et des hommes de guerre, des
gentilles mousmés et des savants ingénieurs *.
M. J.
• Voir un extrait de l'ouvrage dans la Partie française.
Bar-le-Duc. — hnprimeiie Comte-Jacquet, Fagdouel, Inr.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 14. 20 Avril 1908. 8* Année.
SUPPLÉMENT
COMMENT ON JUGE LES FRANCIS EN AMÉRIQUE'
Les étrangers en génériil, dit M. Bo.net Maurv, et les Américains en
particulier nous ont presque toujours mal jugés parce que, dans notre
littérature, nous nous faisons beaucoup plus mauvais que nous ne sommes,
et qu'ils nous jugent d'après notre littérature. Ceux qui ont essayé de nous
peindre d'après nature, quelques Américains du \ord, par exemple, n'ont
fréquenté que des classes particulières de la société : les hommes politi-
ques et la noblesse, le monde des théâtres ou la population plus ou moins
bohème des ateliers d'art, mais ils ne fréquentent guère la bourgeoisie,
les ouvriers ou les paysans.
Les Américains fashionables ont même un certain mépris pour notre
bourgeoisie, qu'ils jugent étroite d'idées, sordide et commune...
Quelques Américains, femmes écrivains, magistrats ou professeurs nous
apprécient plus justement, entre autres M. Barre tt-Wendell, professeur de
l'Université Harvard.
M. Barrett-Wendell a été frappé, lui aussi, du contraste qui existe entre
notre littérature et nos mœurs, et il l'explique ainsi. Les écrivains d'outre-
mer écrivent pour tout le monde et sont tenus à plus de réserve ; en
France, on écrit pour les adultes, et on se croit le droit de tout dire. De
plus, en Angleterre et aux Etats-Unis, on considère la littérature comme
une fonction éducative devant exercer une action morale ou sociale ; le
Français envisage le roman et le théâtre comme un divertissement, et
partant, il lui demande quelque chose qui sorte de la vie ordinaire.
M. Barrett pense qu'en tant que peuple « les Français sont authentique-
ment et.au fond de leur àme profondément religieux ». Il n'y a qu'à voir
l'intérêt passionnant qu'ils prennent aux sujets religieux, leur culte
touchant pour les morts, leur sympathie délicate pour les affligés, pour
être convaincu de la nature de leur piété.
L'éloge de notre caractère national par les Américains a été particulière-
ment agréable à M. Bonet Maury.
Le Français, disent-ils, peut quelquefois embellir la réalité par son ima-
gination, tel ïartarin de Tarascon, mais il est incapable de dissimuler,
d'altérer des faits, même s'ils ne sont pas à son avantage ; il ne dissimule
que ses vertus. On dirait qu'il a une sorte de pudeur intellectuelle qui le
fait rougir lorsqu'on étale en public ses bonnes qualités. Il pousse si loin
cette modestie qu'il va jusqu'à se vanter de ses défauts, de peur de
paraître meilleur que les autres.
I. Extraits d'un article de M. Bonet Maurï paru dans la Revue Bleue.
[84] Si-PPL. ii
106 SUPPLÉMENT [666]
Le trait de mœurs, enfin, qui a le plus frappé l'observateur américain,
c'est l'unité, la cohésion de la famille française. Le foyer français est la
région où la famille est tout en tous. Il implique, par conséquent, le sen-
timent et l'afTection domestiques au maximum de leur force et dans leur
plénitude. Or ce sentiment de famille est la plus solide des bases sur
lesquelles repose une nation. En résumé, nous dit ]M. Bonet ^laurv, le
jugement que portent sur nous les Américains cultivés est beaucoup plus
favorable que celui de beaucoup de peuples étrangers...
La France est toujours, pour l'Américain, la pairie de Lafayetle et de
Rochambeau.
COURS DE VAC/VNCES DE BOULOGNE-SUR-MER
(août 1908)
Comme les années précédentes, l'Université de Lille orjranise, avec le concours
de rAlliance française, des cours de vacances à Boulogne-sur-Mer. Diriges par
M. Mis, professeur au lycée et chargé de conférences à TL niversité, ces cours
dureront du i^'' au 28 août. Les leçons seront faites, en principe, le matin de
luiit heures et demie à midi.
Le programme comprend : i" des conférences sur des sujets d'intérêt général ;
2" un coLus supérieur qui se subdivise en une section littéraire et une section
pratique et commerciale ; 3° un cours élémentaire.
Le cours supérieur, qui s'adresse aux professeurs de français à l'étranger et aux
étrangers désirant se perfectionner dans la connaissance de notre langue, se
compose de 60 leçons pour chaque section.
Phonétique, littérature française, style, grammaire, orthographe, lecture
expressive, institutions, sont les matières traitées dans la section littéraire ; la
section pratique et commerciale, innovation fort utile et cpii sera très goûtée
des étrangers, a un caractère moins littéraire. Elle fait une part plus large aux
exercices pratiques, à la langue courante, à la traduction.
Le cours élémentaire est destiné aux commençants. Nous ne saurions mieux
faire, pour en donner une idée, que de reproduire le programme officiel :
Phonétique. — M. Mis, Directeur des Cours. Exercices praiiqups (avec appareils;
destinés à l'amélioration rationnelle de la prononciation, les auditeurs étant divisés en
groupes par le professeur, d'après leur prononciation : 8 heures.
Grammaire et style (9 heures) : M. Boucher, professeur au collège. — Étude de
la construction de la plirase et des principales règles grammaticales.
OrttiogTaphe (10 tieuresi : M Boccher. — Exercices d'application sur les leçons de
grammaire et de style.
Langue usueile (19 lieuros) : MM. les professeurs du collège. — tixercices de lecture
et de conversation ; étude du vocabulaire français (étymologics, gallicismes, homonymes,
synonymes, etc.) ; liaisons, intonation, etc. Pour ces séances, les auditeurs seront divisés
en groupes d'après leur force.
Traduction (8 heures) : MM. Boucher et Chevalier, professeurs au collège, dirige-
ront des exercices de traduction d'allemand ou d'anglais en français.
Vie et mœurs (6 heures) : MM. Boucher et Chevalier. — Explication de tableaux
représentant des scènes de la vie de tous les }ours.
N. B. — Les auditeurs du cours pourront remettre un certain nombre de devoirs, qui
leur seront corrigés gratuitement.
Des diplômes seront décernés, après examen, aux auditeurs des cours.
[667] SUPPLÉMEINT 107
Ajoutons que des excursions, des soirées littéraires, musicales et dansantes
seront organisées à l'intention des élèves.
Les inscriptions sont reçues dès maintenant. Les adresser à M. Mis, charo-é
de conférences à l'Université, i45, boulevard Victor-Hugo, Lille, qui enverra le
programme détaillé, l'horaire des cours et des conférences et tous les rensei-
gnements désirables aux personnes qui lui en feront Ja demande.
ÉCHOS ET NOUVELLES
École française de Bruxelles (Belgique).
On demande, pour Tl-xole française de Bruxelles, un professeur d'allemand
et d'anglais.
Les candidats doivent être licenciés. La préférence sera donnée à ceux qui
appartiennent déjà ou qui appartiendront aux cadres du personnel de l'ensei-
gnement public.
Traitement de début : 3ooo francs par an. — Travail : environ ([uinze heures
de classe par semaine.
Entrée en fonctions : ler octobre prochain.
Adresser les demandes à M. le Directeur de LÉcole française de Bruxelles,
rue Monge, n° 9, Paris, Ye.
SUJETS D'EXAMENS ET CONCOURS
Agrégation des jeunes filles (1907).
(Une version nv choix. — Temps accordé: 2 heures.)
Version allemande.
Schiller war in der Zeit seines Aufenthalts in Weimar iind Rudolstadt, wo er an
seiner Dichlung irre ward, wo er mit dem Skeptischen und Leidenscliaftlichen seiner
ersten Lebensperiode im Ivampf lag, iinter moralischen, intellektuellea und iistheti-
schen Zerwûrfnissen und Zweifeln auf Geschichte und Philosophie geraten, und seit
seiner Anstellung in Jena ward er sogar berufsm;il',ig auf beide angewiesen. Die Be-
schiiftigung mit beiden lag ùbrigens in seiner Natur, die nicht wie Gœllies dem poli-
tischen Leben noch auch der philosophischen Tatigkeit feindiich war, die sich imGegen-
teile durch die Begebenheiten der Tagesgeschichte und durch die Revolulionen der
Kantischen Philosophie gehoben fûhlte. Daher kam es, daA Schillers kleine Dichtun-
gen sich im Gegensatze gegen Gœthes mehr auf didaktischem als auf lyrischem Boden
bewegten, seine gn'ifeeren sich am liebsten und mit dem meisten Vorteile an die Ge-
schichte anschlossen ; der Geist der bewegten Zeit bestimmte vorzugsweise ihn, den
Ereignissen in der VVirkliclikeit das Ahnliche in der Dichtung, ja selbst in der Ge-
schichtsschreibung enlgegenzustellen. Seine beiden Geschichtswerke schildern ahnliche
Volksbewegungen aus der Yergangenheit, wie sie jene Zeilen wieder erlebten. Dièse
Werke sind uns nur als ein Zeugnis merkAvûrdig, wie ernst es Schiller mit den Vorar-
beiten fur seine Poésie nahm : sie lehnen sich, nachfolgend und vorausgehend, an
"Don Carlos " und " Wallenstein " an.
Gervinds illandbucli der Geschichte der poetischen
National- Literaluv der Deulschen, i Soa).
108 SUPPLÉMENT [668]
Version anglaise.
The variely of the Golhic schools is the more heallhy and beautiful, because in
many cases it is enlirely iinsludied, and rpsulls, not from mère love of change, but
from practical necessilies. For in one point of view Golliic is not only the best, but
Ihe Oiilij rational architecture, as being that whicli can fit itself most easily to ail ser-
vices, viilgar or noble. Undefined in ils slope of roof, height of shaft, breadlh of arch, or
disposition of ground plan, itcan shrink iiito a turret, expand into a hall, coil into a
slaircase, or spring into a spire, wilh undegraded grâce and unexhausted energy ; and
whenevcr it fînds occasion for change in its form or purpose, it submits to it without
the slightest sensé of loss eilher to its unity or majesty, subtle and flexible like a fiery
serpent, but ever attentive to the voice of the charmer. And it is one of the chief >ir-
tues of the Gotliic builders, that they never suffered ideas of oulside symmetries and
consistencies to interfère with the real use and value of what they did. If they wanted
a window. they opened one; a room, they added one; a buttress, they built one;
utterly regardless of any established conventionalities of external appearance, knowing
(as indeed it ahvays happened) Ihat such daring interruptions of the formai plan would
rallier give additional interest to its symmetry than injure it. So that in the best
limes of Gothic, a useless window would rallier hâve been opened in an unexpected
place for Ihe sake of Ihe surprise, than a useful one forbidden forthesake of symmetry.
RusKi.N {The Nature of Gothic, § 38).
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement de l'allemand
dans les lycées et collèges' (1907).
Composition française sur une question générale
de morale ou de littérature.
« Je crois bien, comme Rousseau, que le théâtre ne peut rien, ou pas grand'chose,
pour corriger les mœurs; mais peut-il tant que cela pour les corrompre ? Je ne sais,
personne ne sait. » Jules Lemaitre.
Thème,
Pour échapper à ses obsessions, Jack descendit le long de la berge et se mit à courir
de toutes ses forces sur le pavé étroit et net qui borde l'eau.
A chaque pas, la physionomie de la berge changeait. Ici elle était noire, et de longues
planches flexibles la reliaient à d'énormes bateaux de charbon. Plus loin on glissait sur
des pelures de fruits ; un goût frais de verger se mêlait à l'odeur de la vase, et sous les
grandes bâches entr'ou^crles de nombreuses barques amarrées, des amoncellements de
pommes gardaient le vif, l'éclat de leurs couleurs campagnardes.
Tout à coup on a\ait l'impression d'un port de mer; c'était un encombrement de
marchandises de toutes sortes, de bateaux à vapeur aux tuyaux courts, vides de fumée.
Cela sentait bon le goudron, la houille, le voyage. Knsuite, l'espace se resserrant, un
bouquet de grands arbres baignait dans l'eau de vieilles racines, et l'on pouvait se croire
à vingt lieues de Paris ou à trois siècles en arrière.
De cette chaussée basse, la ville prenait une physionomie particulière. Les maisons
paraissaient plus hautes de toute la profondetir de leur rellet, les passants plus nom-
breux, resserrés par la distance, et l'on voyait des rangées de (êtes appuyées aux parapets
des quais ou des ponts, sur des coudes paresseusement étalés. On eût dit que, de tous
les coins de Paris^ les oisifs, les ennuyés, les désespérés apportaient leur contemplation
muette à cette eau changeante comme un rêve, mais aussi désespérément uniforme que
la vie la plus triste. Quel est donc le problème qu'elle roule, cette eau vivante, pour
que tant de malheureux la regardent avec des poses si découragées, stupides ou tentées.^
Par moments, quand il s'arrêtait pour reprendre haleine, Jack voyait dans un éblouis-
sement tous ces yeux qui semblaient le guetter, le suivre, et il se remettait bien vite à
courir.
i. Il est accordé aux candidats: pour la composition française, 4 heures; pour le
thème, 3 heures ; pour la version, 3 heures ; pour la rédaction en langue étrangère,
A heures. Les candidats ne peuvent faire usage de dictionnaires ni de lexiques.
lBôOI supilément 109
Mais la nuit venait.
Sans que l'enfant s'en aperçût, le chemin de halage montant insensiblement et
s'agrandissant à mesure, il se trouva sur un large quai de plain-pied avec la berge dont
quelques bornes setiles le séparaient. Là, le gaz éclairait des camions rentrant sous de
grands portails où des lùts roulaient avec bruit ; et de ces énormes portes cochères, de
ces entrepcMs, de ces caves, de ces milliers de tonneaux alignés sur le quai, une odeur
de lie de vin montait, mêlée au goût moisi et l'ade du bois humide.
C'était Bercy. Alphonse Daudet.
-V- [<■ — Les candidats devront se servir de l'écriture allemande.
Composition en langue allemande.
« Wie Deutschland in geographischer Beziehung das Land der Mille ist, so ist es
auch in kultureller Hinsicht die Mille Europas. »
Fr. Paulse.n.
Version.
|)iev ettbtid), enbïic^ Btn ic^ bemt aîlein !
|)ter fpinnt ber '■Jlbenbionne roter ©d^eiu
a^erglii^enb um beii ijoijen Stamm ber §ic^te.
§ier ruft ber ^ucfiicf unterm ©djleierbad^
S)er miic^t'gen 3*"ei9e îîinbermarc^en tnac^,
(gin gc^o l^aïb tierfc^oUener ©ebic^te.
SBie gern fietret' id) biefeg aBalbgelûet,
3rt beffeit ©c^og ber '^îfab etntabenb jie^t,
Wid) Don ber SBett entfernenb toeit unb tueiter ;
2Bie btau ber 9îa{en oon 3>ergifîmeinnic^t,
333ie ï)otb ba» Sptel bon Sc^atten unb uou gic^t,
®a§ nccfifi^ mir iiorau§geî)t aU 23egleiter.
Unb lue'^t ber ilsinb burd) biejeê SBalbermeer,
0 lueld)' ein SBraufen, feierlid) unb ^ef)r,
@(eic^ Crgelton in einem gotI)'fd)en 2)ome,
aierluanbte ^liinge rtecfenb in ber SSruft,
SSon £eib berraufi^t unb tion Derraujdjtcr Suft,
®ie tieibe langft Uoriiter mit bem Strome.
©eftatten fel^ren bann, bie einft mit mir
©eïuanbelt unter biefen 33aumen t}ier,
^Jtod) jung, nod) frifd), bie 5?ruft noU tion ©ejdngen.
©ie liic^eln ftumm, unb Meid) ift tf)r @efid)t,
3f)r 33tid unirbiicf), 3ugemanbt bem Sic^t,
3)aâ ïangfam ft^tuinbet an be§ .Ç)iigeï3 |)angen.
Unb mit bem Sii^t auc^ ifjre goïm gerfliefet,
Unb h)ie bie îdmmrung teife mid) umfd}Iiefet,
®inb nur bie aBipfel nod} Uon ©lonj umiDoten ;
D nietd)' ein Jnnfeln bort fou {^olb unb ©riin,
2[t§ foilte nun ber %ao, nod) einmal filii^'n,
S)er em'ge %aq, ber ertj'ge Senj, bort oîien !
îo(^ ba§ ûud) ïiïeid^t unb ftirtt. Unb biifter nun
Stegt ring§ ber 3.t>alb, unb feine 5îronen rulj'n
^n 2)unîet, ttie bie iBurjeln in ber îiefe ;
dlaâ)t put ben ^fab. 2:od) untcn au» bem %al
SSlinf 1 2id)t naà) Sic^t, al§ ob ber traute Straî)!
Sen 2Banbrer (jcimiDarts ju ben DJÎenfc^en riefe.
©0 folg' bem Mufe, ber bii^ fii^rt juriid —
Sort unten mot)nt tBofjt ein 6eîd)eiben ©liicf.
2Ba§ fjtlft'é bon ber ®emeinid}ait fid) entfernen ?
HO SUPPLÉMENT [670]
(yi'tï ©eifter nod^ nii^t rcif ju biefer ^xx^U
glieïi'n fie tox btr — unb toeil ein aJîenfd) bu Btft,
5Jiu^t mit ben 93lenf(^en bu 3U leben ïernen.
SuïîU§ ^îobentierg.
Baccalauréat Lalin-Langues (octobre 1907).
{Matières à développer. — Temps accordé : 3 heures.)
Composition en langue allemande.
(.lEBLINfiSBÙCHER EINES PrIMANERS,
Ein Primaner schreibt an einen deiitschen Kameraden und erziihlt ihm, n"ie er seine
Neujalirsferien verbraclit.
Das schlechle Wetter hat ihm niclit gestaltet, gro&ere Spaziergiinge zu unternehmen...
Dafiir liât er Zeit gehabt, die ilim gesclienklen Bûclier in aller Rulie zu lesen...
Er liât von seinen Eltern und ^'e^\vandten nur Bûcher als Angebinde verlangt und
erhalten, ornste und auch leichtere Bûcher...
Unter den ernsten, hat er gewiihlt : z. B. Histoire de France de Lavisse, Miclielet,
Sainte-Beuve, Brunetière, Lemaîlre oder andere.
Unter den leichleren : Leconle de Lisle, Sully-Prud'iiomme, Daudet oder andere.
Auch deutsche Werke hat er bekommen : Drainaliker wie Sudermann und Ilaupt-
mann, Romanschriftsteller wie Auerbach, Spielhagen oder andere.
(Paris.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
A remarkable and touching custom is found in some Swiss cantons. At harvest time
the voung men and women meet one evening, and fix on a night when, afler the
work of the day, they go to the fleld of tlie more helpless among the villagers : a poor
widow or a weak old man ; tlierc they reap Ihe harvest, and before day break carry it
to the owner's barn.
Describe the scène, and mark the joyful surprise of the récipient of such a good turn.
{Paris.)
Composition en langue italienne.
TOROUATO TasSO E il Mo.NTAlGNE.
Mentre T. Tasso slava nell'ospedale di .Sant'Anna, a Ferrara, dove rimase non meno di
setle anni, strettamente custodito, perché dava manifesti segni di pazzia — pazzia del resto
parziale, che non gli loglieva l'uso délia ragione in moite cose, segnatamente nei suoi
scritti — , venue a visitarlo, tra gli altri, il Montaigne che allora (i58o) viaggiava per
ritalia, e che lasciô queslo ricordo délia sua visita nei suoi Essais (1, 12) : « J'eus plus
de despit encore que de compassion de le veoir à Ferrare en si pileux estât, survivant à
soymesme, mescoignoissant et soy et ses ouvrages. . . « Il Tasso era già famoso come
aulore delV Aminta. e la sua Gerusalemme Hberata veniva allora pubblicata senza il suo
consenso.
Si racconterà la scena dell' incontro e il colloquio dei due grandi scriltori, insistendo
specialmente suUe impressioni del Montaigne.
(Paris.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
El caballero y el zapatero.
En tiempo del primer rey D. Jaime de Mallorca, un caballero hizo una canciôn de
la cual tanto se pagaba la gente que no quiera cantar otra.
Yendo por la calle un dia, oyô el caballero que un zapatero estaba diciendo tan mal
aquella canciôn que parecia muy mal liecha.
El caballero tomô unas tijeras y destrozo cuantos zapalos el zapatero ténia heclios.
Llegaron el caballero y el zapatero ante el rey. Enlonces dijo el caballero que su
canciôn habia sufrido el mismo dafio de les zapatos.
El rey page el dafio al zapatero y le mandô que nunca dijcse la canciôn dei caballero.
(Paris.)
[6711 SUPPLÉMENT 111
Composition en langue allemande.
Thema. — Was halten Sie vom dentsclien Sprich^ort : c Ilintcr dein P.erge wohnen
aiich Leute » ?
Sloff. — Lente, welclie immer an der Scholle geklebthaben iiiid fiir nelclie die ûhrige
Welt ein Bucli mit sieben Siegcln bleibt, wollen immer Ailes am Besten wissen.
Hesser wiire es doch, wenn sie einmal in die Fremde zielien, durch geeignete Reisen
iliren Gesichtskreis erA\eitern und von dcnjeuigen lernen muchlen, die siejelzt so prah-
lerisch Barbaren schelten.
(Poitiers.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
Great clianges bave laken place during Ibe nineteenlb century in Ihe^ays of travel-
ling. A bnndred years ago men used to journey eitlier on horseback or in slow coach-
es ; several days were needed to go from Paris to Bordeaux. Tbe nevv inventions of tbe
raihvay, tbe bicycle, tbe motor-car. bave greatly altered tbe conditions of journeys.
W'e can repair very qnickly from one place to another; a greater nuniber of people are
able to travel. Still tlje advantages are balanced by mimerons drawbacks : tbe rapidily
of modem locomotion bas many inconveniences; tbe charm of slow journeys basdisap-
peared. Are tbey to be regretted ?
{Poitiers.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
A. Un gitano, prisionero de un capilân de bandidos muy cruel, llamado Parrôn no
fué ejecutado como los demâs, porque le dijo la buenavenlura.
H. Logrô escaparse, y diô las senas de Parrôn al Capitan General de Granada, el que
enviô iina tropa de migueletes para prenderle.
G. Los migueletes iban a salir de la poblaciùn, ciiando entre ellos el gitano reconociô
al bandido.
D.Antes de ser aborcado, exclamé el ladrùn : c( ; Es el l'inicobombre à quien beperdo-
nado la vida ! Merezco lo que me pasa ».
i Poitiers.)
Composition en langue allemande.
EiXE Rettung.
Zwei Knaben laufen auf der Eisbabn Schlittscbub. Sie entfernen sich weit uber die
Grenze der Babn binaus.
Einer bricbt an einer dunnen Stelle des Eises ein. Der andere will ibm berausbelfen
fiillt selbst binein, sclnvimmt mit einem Arm und scbiebt seinen Freund vorwiirts,
Sie kommen an einen festen Punkt. Der stiirkere stôftt den anderen auf die Eisdecke
klettert selber beraus.
Einige EisUiufer eilen herbei, begleiten sie nacb Ilaus.
Wie die Knaben von den Eltern empfangen werden. Sie liegen wocbenlangim Kranken-
betle.
(Rennes.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
ROBI.NSON CliUSOE AND THIC FOOTPRINT.
I. — Robinson Crusoe had lived on a désert islandeighteen years witbout baving seen
a buman being. One day, be noticed tbe print of a naked foot on tbe sand. Ile retired
to bis but in great terror.
II. — Some time after be had seen tbe footprint, be saAv a number of savages on tbe
sboreofbis island Tbeybad a large tire kindled on sbore, and dragged two prisoners
from tbeir canoës for slaugliter : one v»as knocked down witb a club; the otber ran
oCf towards Crusoe's but pursued by tbree men.
III. — Crusoe bappened to see tbem, sbot two of tbe pursuers, and hailed tbe fugi-
tive, wbo gradually approacbed bim. making signs of submission. Crusoe treated him
kindly, called bim « Friday » ; and Friday became a useful servant and intelligent com-
panion.
[Rennes.)
112 SUPPLÉMENT [672 J
DEVOIR CORRIGE
In einem Dorfe findet man Biicker, Fleisclier, Maurer, Zimmerleute, Schlosser,
Schmiede, Sattler, Schulimacher und Schneider.
Der Schneider verfertigt Kleider, der Schuster macht Schuhe, der Sattler Riemen,
Satlel, Peitschen, der Schmied Stangen, Nagel, Messer, Pflûge und allerlei Ackergerale,
der Schlosser Schlûssel, Schlusser, Riegel, usw., der Zimmcrmann und der Maurer arbei-
ten an dem Haus, der Fleischer schlachtet Ochsen, Schafe, Schweine und verkauft ihr
Fleisch, der B.ïcker biickt Brot, Kuchen, Zwieback, usw.
2. Der Fnihling ist eine angenehnae Jahreszeit, weil es weder zn kalt noch zu warm
ist ; die Tage werden liinger, die Niichte kûrzer. Die Biiume bliihen ; auf den Feldern und
den Wiesen wachsen Blumen.
3. Im Sommer essen wir gelbe und weil'ie Rûben, Radieschen, KartofTeln, Salât, Arti-
schoken, Spargel, Zuckererbsen, usw. ; Kirschen, Aprikosen, Erdbeeren, Johannisbeeren,
Stachelbeeren, Pfirsiche, usw.
II. In einem Garten findet man im Sommer Rosen, Lilien, Nelken, Georginen, Astern.
Narzissen .
5. Ein Juwelier verkauft Diamanten, Perlen, Rubine, Smaragde, Améthyste, Topazen,
Ringe, Ohrringe, Armbander, Halsketten, usw.
6. In einem Dorf findet man gewôhnlich ein Rathaus, eine Schule, eine Kirche.
• Voir le texte dans le n" du 5 décembre 1907.
BIBLIOGRAPHIE
Lettres commerciales pratiques en anglais, avec la traductioa française en
regard, par J.-C. O'CoiNisoR et D.-P. Hugon (Paris, Haclietle et C'«, 1908.
Plaquette de A6 pages, o fr. 90.)
Ce petit ouvrage, d'un caractère essentiellement pratique, est destiné aux commer-
çants et aux futurs commerçants. II se compose de lettres d'affaires et de commerce. 11
se divise en cinq parties : i" avis généraux, cours du marché; 2° demandes de rensei-
gnements, échantillons, etc. ; 3° réponses aux demandes de renseignements, sollicitations
décommandes, offres de service, elc. ; fi" renseignements demandés et donnés ; 5° lettres
de recommandation et de crédit. Le texte français se trouvant en regard du texte anglais,
les lecteurs anglais en tireront autant de profit que les lecteurs français.
11 n'est pas besoin d'un long examen pour être convaincu que cet opuscule est l'œu-
vre d'hommes expérimentés et possédant à fond le vocabulaire commercial. On peut
être assuré que leur travail sera bien accueilli.
Moderna Sprâlî. Svensk Mânadsrevy for undervisningen i de trc huvudsprâ-
ken utgiven av Emil Rodhe under medverkan av C. S. Fea.uenside, Camille
PoLACK, D' Ernst A. Meyer.
N° 2 : Février 1908. — La loi des trois consonnes, par F. Ler.vy. Comptes rendus.
Fre'ie Stiliibung. Protest. Mea Guipa. Ôversattningsôvningar.
N" 3 : Mars 1908. — La loi des trois consonnes (suite). Book Review. English Exer-
cises. Errata. Editorial Note.
Cette revue publiée à Goteborg (Suède) chez Ringner et Enewald, s'occupe surtout des
langues les plus répandues en Europe, le français, l'allemand et l'anglais. On y trouve
d'excellents comptes rendus, et des éludes fort intéressantes sur la phonétique.
Bar-le-Duc. — Impiiineiie Comte-Jacquet, FACDOUEL,Dir.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 15. 5 Mai 1908. 8' Année.
SUPPLÉMENT
COURS DE VAC4NCES DE KAISERSLAUTERN (PALATINAT)
Les cours de vacances organisés à Kaiserslautern (Palalinat) pour les étrangers
auront lieu, cette année, du 3 au 28 août,
A ces cours s'ajoutera, du 3i août au 11 septembre, un cours complémen-
taire pour les candidats aux professorats de langue allemande (primaire et
secondaire).
Les questions traitées porteront principalement sur la langue et la littératuie
allemandes et sur la pédagogie. Elles donneront lieu à des conférences et à des
exercices pratiques. La plus grande importance est attachée à ces derniers.
L'époque de l'Aufklarung sera l'objet principal des sujets de littérature.
Le but des conférences est d'initier les étrangers à la civilisation et la vie
allemandes et en même temps de faire voir comment celles-ci se reflètent
dans la langue et la littérature.
Les exercices pratiques tendent à initier à la véritable intelligence de la lan-
gue allemande et à développer l'habileté dans cette langue, en considérant les
principales difficultés qu'elle ofîre et les fluctuations dans son usage.
Parallèlement aux cours destinés aux étrangers fonctionnera un cours en
langue française. Grâce à celte double organisation, Allemands et étrangers
auront de nombreuses occasions de se rencontrer et de s'entretenir.
Tous les participants aux cours sont admis à prendre part en même temps
aux conférences en français.
En dressant le programme, on s'est surtout préoccupé des compositions don-
nées aux examens de langue allemande.
Les auditeurs non français que les traductions n'intéresseraient pas peuvent
assister, pendant les heures qui leur sont consacrées, aux exercices allemands
d'un autre cours.
Plusieurs cours sont faits par des professeurs français (M. Bessé, professeur
à l'école normale de Versailles; M. Delagoutte, professeur au lycée du Puy ;
M. SiMONNOT, professeur au collège Ghaptal à Paris).
Adresser toutes les demandes d'inscription et de renseignements à M. Ludwig
Wagner, Directeur des cours de vacances 22, Hackstrasse, 22, Kaiserslautern
(Palatinat).
ÉCHOS ET NOUVELLES
Le Ministre de l'Instruction publique a décidé que les répétitrices anglaises
admises dans les écoles normales d'institutrices à titre d'assistantes seraient dé-
sormais acceptées au pair et n'auraient plus à verser 4oo fr. par an.
[90] siP?L. 16
Hi SUPPLÉMENT [714]
Un congrès d'éducation morale inlernalionale aura lieu à Londres daus la
quatrième semaine de septembre.
Des cours de vacances seront faits cette année en France à Boulogne, Caen,
Lisieux, }3ayeux, Granville, Tours, Honfleur, Dijon, Nancy, Rennes, Besançon,
Grenoble et Paris. >ous donnerons prochainement a nos lecteurs quelques
renseignements sur ces cours.
Pendant l'année scolaire 1906-1907 l'Angleterre a envoyé 17 assistantes, 25
assistants, dans nos lycées et collèges, et 30 répétitrices dans nos écoles normales.
L'échange d'assistants a été également institué entre lAnglctcrre et la Prusse ;
il sera étendu aux femmes l'année prochaine.
TESPÉRAMO AU JAPON
A l'occasion de la deuxième assemblée générale de l'Association espéranlisle
japonaise, qui eut lieu le mois dernier, le ministre des alTaires étrangères du
Japon, le comte Ilayashi, président d'honneur de l'association, adressa à l'as-
semblée la lettre suivante pour y être lue publiquement :
« A l'époque actuelle, les relations mondiales se sont tellement développées
que la terre semble s'être resserrée. Cependant, les peuples de notre partie du
inonde ne peuvent suffisamment échanger avec d'autres leurs idées ou étendre
leurs relations, et cela tient surtout à la différence des langues. A'oir^ espéranto
a pour but de rompre cet obstacle et de permettre à tous les peuples du
monde de se comprendre en usant de la plus facile des langues communes.
Bien que l'anglais et le français soient relativement répandus hors des frontières
de l'Angleterre et de la France, il faut bien reconnaître que la première, langue
des affaires, et la seconde, langue des relations sociales, ont le double désa-
Trantage de se différencier beaucoup par leur sphère d'intluence et de n'être
employées que par une portion bien restreinte de l'humanité entière. C'est pour
cela que nous voulons que l'espéranto soit la langue internationale. »
Il suffit d'ajouter à ces paroles qu'à l'unanimité l'assemblée a décidé de pro-
fiter du congrès universel de Dresde, qui se tiendra en août prochain, faisant
suite à ceux de Boulogne, Genève et Cambridge, pour inviter, au nom des espé-
rantisles japonais, le monde espérantiste à désigner Tokio, ou du moins le
Japon, comme siège du huitième congrès en 191 2, les années prochaines étant
déjà retenues par l'Espagne, la Belgique et la Norvège.
{Revue rxpérnnlisle.)
NOMINATIONS UNIVERSITAIRES
Du 27 mars l'.»08.
Lycre de jeunes filles de Lille. — M"° Reymond (Christine), déléguée, à titrede
suppléante, dans les fonctions de maîtresse chargée de cours d'anglais au lycée
de jeunes tiUes de Lille, est chargée, jusqu'à la fin de l'année scolaire 1907-1908,
des fonctions de maîtresse chargée de cours d'anglais audit lycée.
715J SUPPLÉMENT 115
— Du 2S mars. —
Collège de Calais. — AI. Aifhe, pourvu du ccrliOcat d'aplitude à renseigne-
ment de l'allemand, chargé des fonctions de professeur de langues vivantes au
collège de Ayons, est délégué dans les fonctions de professeur de langues vivan-
tes au collège de Calais.
Collèije de ToiiK — M. Beck., licencié es lettres (allemand), délégué pour l'en-
seignement des lettres et de l'allemand au collège de Tout, est nommé profes-
seur de lettres et allemand audit collège.
SUJETS D'EXAMENS ET CONCOURS
Certificat d'aptitude à renseignement de l'anglais
dans les lycées et collèges^ (1907).
Composition française sur une question générale
de morale ou de littérature.
Discuter ce jugement de W. Ilazlitt: " Neither would I recommend Ihe going abroad
vvhen young to beconie a mongrel being — half French, half English. It is better to be
sometliing than nothing. "
Thème.
Le soir venait. Le soleil n'avait plus que quelques minutes de trajet pour atteindre le
bord tranchant de l'iiorizon. Il éclairait longuement, en y traçant des rayures d'ombre
et de lumière, un grand pays plat, tristement coupé de vignobles, de guérets et de
marécages, nullement boisé, à peine onduleux, et s'ouvrant de distance en distance, par
une lointaine échappée de vue, sur la mer. Un ou deux villages blanchâtres, avec leurs
églises à plates-formes et leurs clochers saxons, étaient posés sur un des renflements de
la plaine, et quelques fermes, petites, isolées, accompagnées de maigres bouquets d'ar-
bres et d'énormes meules de fourrage, animaient seules ce monotone et \aste paysage,
dont l'indigence pittoresque eût paru complète sans la beauté singulière qui lui venait
du climat, de l'heure et de la saison. Seulement, à l'opposé de Villeneuve et dans
un pli de la plaine, il y avait quelques arbres un peu plus nombreux qu'ailleurs
et formant comme un très petit parc autour d'une habitation de quelque apparence.
C'était un pavillon de tournure flamande, élevé, étroit, percé de rares fenêtres irrégu-
lières et flanqué de tourelles à pignons d'ardoise. Aux abords étaient agglomérées
quelques constructions plus récentes, maison de ferme et bâtiment d'exploitation, le
tout au surplus très modeste. Un brouillard bleu qui s'élevait à travers les arbres indi-
quait qu'il y avait exceptionnellement dans ce bas-fond du pays quelque chose au
moins comme un cours d'eau ; une longue avenue marécageuse, sorte de prairie
mouillée bordée de saules, menait directement de la maison à la mer.
Eugèi;o Fromenti."*.
Version.
'Twas in that tnellow season of Ihe year,
When the bot sun singes Ihe yellovv leaves
Till they be gold, — and vvith a broader sphère
The Moon looks donn on Ceres and hersheaves ;
When more abundantly tlie spider weaves,
And the cold vvind breathes from a chillier clime ;
That forth 1 fared, on one of those still eves,
Touched wilh the dewy sadness of the time,
To think how the bright months had spent their prime.
I. 11 est accordé aux candidats : pour la composition française, A heures; pour le
thème, 3 heures; pour la version, 3 lieures ; pour la rédaction en langue étrangère,
4 heures. Les candidats ne peuvent faire usage de dictionnaires ni de lexiques.
U6 SUPPLÉMENT ["^16]
So Ihat, Avherever I addressed my way,
I seemed to track tlie nielanclioly feet
Of him that is llie Father of Decay,
And spoils at once the sour weed and the sweet ;
Wherefore regretfully I made retreat
To some unwasted régions of my brain,
Gharmed with Ihe light of summer and the heat,
And bade that bounteous season blooni again,
And sprout fresh flowers in my own domain.
It was a shady and sequestered scène,
Like those famed gardens of Boccaccio,
Planted wilh his own laurels evergreen,
And roses tliat for endiess summer blow ;
And there were fou n tain springs to overflow
Their marble basins, — and cool green arcades
Of tall o'erarching sycamores. to Ihrow
Athwart the dappled path Iheir dancing shades, —
With timid conies cropping the green blades.
And there were crystal pools, peopled with fish.
Argent and gold ; and some of Tyrian skin,
Some crimson-harred : — and ever at a wish
They rose obsequious till tlie wave grew Ihin
As glass upon their backs, and Ihen divei in,
Quencliing their ardent scales in watery gloom,
AVliilst otiiers with fresh hues rowed fortli to win
My changeable regard, for so Ave doom
Things born of thoughl to vanish or to bloom.
And there were many birds of many dyes,
From tree lo tree still faring to and fro,
And stately peacocks with their splendid eyes,
And gorgeoiis pheasants wilh their golden glow,
Like Iris just bedabbled in lier bow,
Besides some vocalists, without a name,
That oft on fairy errands come and go,
With accents magical ; — and ail were tame.
And peckléd at my hand where'er I came.
Thomas Hood.
Composition en langue anglaise.
The character of Caleb Balderslon in the Bride of Lammermoor.
Bourses commerciales de séjour à l'étranger (1907),
Rédaction.
Avantages que retirent le commerce et l'industrie des voies de communication.
Composition de géographie commerciale.
Le Japon industriel et commercial.
1° Langue allemande.
Thème.
L'industrie française a la réputation à l'étranger d'exporter des produits de prix trop
élevés. Celte assertion a été répétée si souvent qu'elle a accrédité celte idée qui,
cependant, n'est pas absolument vraie. Les gens du métier savent très bien que nous
produisons en France des articles à bas prix, à côté d'articles chers dont nous avons
toujours la demande et que le prix élevé de ces derniers résulte d'une fabrication géné-
ralement plus soignée et par suite plus coûteuse. L'industriel français, renseigné par des
[717] SUPPLÉMENT 117
agents compétents, pourra toujours fabriquer des produits spéciaux pour chaque mar-
clié et dans des conditions de prix qui lui permettront de lutter avec les importateurs
des autres pays. Mais il faut pour cela ([u'il soit bien édifié sur- les goûts des acheteurs.
C'est là ce qui fait la supériorité du système de représentation des maisons allemandes.
Ainsi tel agent de ces maisons, arrivant à l'étranger avec une série d'échantillons ne
répondant pas au goût des acheteurs, s'est empressé d'envoyer immédiatement à sa
maison toute une collection des articles, ayant la vogue, pris chez les concurrents pour
les imiter, et après quelques tâtonnements inévitables il parvient à réussir et à se faire
une clientèle qui tient compte de ses efforts.
Bon nombre de nos industriels français prétendent qu'au lieu d'envoyer des repré-
sentants, ils ont avantage à traiter avec les gros commissionnaires anglais, allemands
ou américains, notamment au point de vue de la sécurité commerciale. Mais quels
renseignements utiles pourront lui fournir ces commissionnaires au point de vue de la
fabrication ? Quelles connaissances ont-ils des exigences de la consommation dans un
pays où ils ne résident pas ? Ils n'en ont aucune. Cette manière de procéder est un non-
sens. Elle peut avoir même pour l'avenir de notre industrie nationale des efTets désas-
treux : car le jour où ce commissionnaire, anglais ou allemand, trouvera un article de
fabrication nationale plus avantageux que l'article français, il aura soin de taire le fait
et lorsque l'industriel français l'apprendra, il sera souvent trop tard, l'article anglais ou
allemand tiendra le haut du pavé et la faveur.
Nota. — Pour la langue allemande le thème s'arrêtera au 2"^ paragraphe commençant
par ces mots : " .\insi tel agent. . ."
Version.
Vom Liverpooler BaumwoUmarkte schreibt man uns am 5. d. M. : " Der amerikanische
Bureaubericht, der weit hinter der Erwartung zunickblieb, hat eine scharfe Aufwiirts-
bewegung auf dem BaumwoUmarkt herbeigefiihrt. VVahrend man im allgemeinen auf
einen Saatenstand von 76 bis 79 pGt. gerechnet batte, war die Schiitzung der Behurde
in Washington nur 72 pCt. Wennauch frûhere Erfahrungen einen gewissen Skeptizismus
einer so von den Pri\atberichten abweichenden Taxation gegenûber zulieBen, so fand
dennoch eine lebhafte Aufwartsbewegung, bedingt durch Deckungskiiufe, statt. Solllen
sich dieofflziellen Schillzungen als richtig ervveisen und eine wesentliche Besserung in den
Witterungsverbitltnissen nicht eintreten, so mul-i in Anbetracht der enormen Zunahme ,
welche der Konsum in den letzlen Jahren erfahren hat (man schatzt denselben auf zwi-
schen 12 und i3 Mill. Ballen) der Ausblick als ein ernster betrachtet werden, aber
schlielilich kann wiirmeres Wetter noch bedeutende Eortschritte in dem Wachstum der
Baumvvollpflanze herbeifûhren und somit das Ertragnis doch den Ilandelsbedùrfnissen
niiher kommen. "
Correspondance.
Un de vos amis désirait entrer dans une école supérieure de commerce. Après le vote
de la nouvelle loi militaire, il y a renoncé. Vous lui écrivez pour le faire revenir sur
cette décision.
.2° Langue anglaise.
Thème.
Même texte que le thème allemand, mais seulement jusqu'au 3^ paragraphe commen-
çant par les mots : " Bon nombre de nos industriels. . ." (Voir ci-dessus. )
Version.
The index cards.
In every profession, the keeping of notes is most important. What form of notebook
shall vve use for the gênerai practice ? After suffering the remorse of one who bas seen
Ihe passing in review of various sizes of notes, from the folio to a vest-pocket édition,
let me urge you to décide upon some standard size of notebook, which in years to corne
will look dovvn upon you from your shelves in vvell-regulated ranks, instead of the
motley forms of an awkward squad. To-day the best form of note is found in the loose-
leaf System, consisting of a leaf 4 inches by 7 inches, perforated and punched to àllow
filing in some permanent binder under its proper subject.
The best system for library of office référence is the card index, which may be used
in various convenient forms, admits of rearrangements, and is capable of being main-
tained up to date. This card system serves well for indexing clients, draAvings, tabula-
118 SUPPLÉMENT [718]
lions of accounts, cost reports, inventory of stock, and if woll planned, becomes one of
the most nseful means of référence in an ofTice.
A habit to be earnestly commended is tliat of noling on index cards any important
article or data, and fîling same iinder its proper classification. When the technical
magazine or book arrives, make it a practice to look over the articles carefiilly and
Write yoiir index card référence for prompt fîling ; delay spoils the system.
Do not attempt any laborious or ornamental printing on thèse index cards, for this
reqnires too miich lime. Write in a legible liand, making such notations that you will
understand them ten years from now.
Correspondance .
Même sujet que pour l'allemand. (Voir ci-dessus.)
^0 Langue espagnole.
Thème.
Même texte que pour le thème allemand. Les trois paragraphes. (Voir ci-dessus )
Version.
Revista de mercados.
El mercado melalùrgico continua en el estado favorable en que desde hace meses lo
venimos revistando, sin que, en apariencia, los bnenos precios hayan producido hasta
ahora el efecto con que se debe conlar en estes casos, de que por crecimiento de las
explotaciones ô por olras nuevas acudan al mercado taies canlidades que supere pronto
la oferla ;i la demanda. Olro de los efeclos de las subidas suele ser el cohibir â los
compradores y disminuir el consumo ; pero esto sucede mns bien cuarido las subidas
son violentas y se las supone amanadas, que no cuando se presentan tan graduâtes y tan
justifîcadas como las que venimos registrando desde que se iniciô la buena tendancia
de! mercado.
Nada le da tanta consistencia â los precios que rigen como la misma lentitud con que
se ha llegado ;i ellos; pero al mismo tiempo es preciso pensar que la subida sin limite
no es posihie, y que tiene que llegar un momento en cada renglôn en que se toque el
màximo xjosible. Ya hace tiempo, en realidad, desde que pasô de €20, que hubiéramos
creido que el zinc habia llegado â su extremo, y, sin embargo, coYno se ven'i en nuestro
lislin de precios, lo cotizamos hoy à £26. i.i,3 y aun con tendencia à subir. Minas hay
en Espana, de blenda y calainiiia, que no se han explotado por falta de comunicacio-
nes, y que hoy podrian explotarsc aun cuando fuera preciso liacer los transportes à lomo.
Losextremados precios del zinc parecen tanto mâs insostenibles, por cuanlo si se excep-
lûa su papel en las pilas primarias, para las demàs aplicaciones liene sustitulos sin pro-
ducir gran perturbacion.
El cobre ha conlinuado gananJo algunos chelines de una scmana ;» otra, y este métal
si que solo encontrara su mayor precio en el punto en que se aumente la producciôn
ô disminuya la demanda, porque si bien se puede decir que es ya sabido que el alumi-
nio lo sustiluirà en muchas de sus grandes aplicaciones, habriin de pasar muchos afios
sin que la producciôn del nuevo métal sea en cantidad que afecte à las demandas del
cobre. La exislencia visible de este signe en baja, y la del 3i de Octubre era solo de
25.798 loneladas, sin grandes remesas aniinciadas de America.
El plomo ha vuelto à colizarse màs alto, y quedaba en buena demanda eu Inglaterra,
de modo que también parece sostenido por ahora en su favorable cotizacion.
Los renglones de hierro y acero siguen todos muy sostenidos sin probabilidad de baja
por ahora. No parece probable, sin embargo, que las nuevas subidas sean de imporlancia.
porque se harim los mayores esfuerzos para proveerse de cok y minérales para encender
hornos que estân apagados ; aparatos construidos para aumenlarla producciôn en grande
escala sobran, la diflcultad esta solo en las primeras materias.
{Recista Minera, Metalio-gica y de Ingenier'ui.)
Correspondance.
Même sujet que pour l'allemand. (Voir ci-dessus.)
[7191 SUPI'LÉMENT 119
DEVOIRS PROPOSÉS
». Wo nnd wie sitzen die Lehreriti iind die Schiilerinnen im Scliulzimmer, mid warmn
silzen sie so ?
2. Welclie Biiume waclisen in rinseren Wiildern ?
3. Wie macht nian das I5rot ?
/i . Wie macht nian don Wein ?
(6. S., As])irantef!, Nnncy, 1" session 1907.)
» #
The Orchabd.
AVIiat Irees are lo he fonnd in onr orcliards ?
Wliat is the aspect of an orchard in Spring, in Siimmer, in Autiimn, in Win ter ?
Of wliat nse and profit is an orcliard to iis (frnits, préserves, liquors, etc.) ?
How can the tree, when dead, still prove bénéficiai to ns ?
(B. S., Asfjiranles, Toulouse, P'^ session 1907.)
El Mercado '.
i . ^ A qné momento del dia se va al mercado ? ; (t por qtié ? ; c à qné se va al mercado ?
2. i Qné compras se hacen ô se pneden hacer en el mercado?
3. ,1 De dônde pro\ ienen las diversas carnes que se ven en el mercado ? ; ,; por qné lian
de pasar todas las reses por el maladero pi'iblico?
4. c De dônde provienen las varias frutas, legumbres y verduras qne se venden en el
mercado?
f>. Expliquese por qné hay mercados al aire libre — en plazas y calles — y otros en
edificios cnbiertos.
(6. S., Aspirantes, Alger, l'' session 1907 .)
• *
1 . La vendemmia.
2. Corne si fa il vino ?
3 Aspetto del cielo di giorno e di nette.
(H. S., Aspirants, Grenoble. "2' session 1907.)
DEVOIRS CORRIGES
1. 9Beitn citi ïïîanit obev cm .sîitûbc ôvuBt, utmmt cr ieincii .Çiut ober feiitc 'DJlitljc at) ; bie
grctuen unb 'îJîabi^eit tientcigen fic^, Waw l'agt gitgtetcf), je narf) ber Xoge^jcit : ,,®utcn
OJtorgen, gutcn Xag, guten "Jlbenb, gute 5îacf)t !"
2. ÎBentt jenianb an bie %ux îlopft, ruft inait ,,ljerein :"
3. S)te ©onne ge^t uni... U'^ï auf unb uni... U'^r untev.
4. 2Bir ïicbeifen unfetn .fiortieï mit .Hleibevn um iî)n gegen §'fee unb ^ûlte ju ftîjiiljeu.
.'i. 3"t 2Btnter finb bie nteiften SSdume îa^t ; nur bie 'Jîabetfioljer ^ben notï) griine
Stiittcr : im Jrii^ting gviinen unb btii^en aile iBâume, im Sommet l^rangen fie ira tiolteu
©d^mucE ; im |)erbft fterben bie JBfôtter gelb unb rot unb fallen ab ; oiele 2?aume ttagen
5viid}te.
(G. É. P. S., Aspiiants, Alger, ■2'- session 1907.)
1. Some parts of the body are the head, the arms, tlie legs, the heart, llie liver, and
the eyes.
2. My own head is long ; my brother's is ronnd. The shape of the liead is of im-
portance in ethnology, or the science of races.
3. I hear with m y ears.
4> I am fond of fruit, particularly strawberries and ail kinds of plums.
I. Contéstese ;'» todo del modo màs complète y exacte que sea posible.
* Voir les textes dans les n"* des 5 janvier et 5 fé\rier 1908.
1^0 SUPPLÉMENT [720]
5. I was born in one of llie Midland counties of England, nearly fifty yearsago.
C. Of \vood are made some boxes, doors, scaffolds, and sticks.
7. Watches are of gold, silver, or aluminium ; keys of iron or of brass ; window
panes of glass.
{C. E. P. S., Lille, ;'■« sesnion 1907.)
BIBLIOGRAPHIE
En Angleterre : Fleurs prin tanières.
Les fleurs littéraires de cette nouvelle saison viennent d'éclore. Elles ne sont pas
toutes belles, mais quelques-unes méritent d'être cueillies.
Et d'abord, place aux grands noms, et parmi eux à Lord Cromer. 11 nous expose les
résultats de sa féconde administration dans Modem Eyypt. On y trouve une foule de
détails sur le rôle de la France en Egypte ; citons une appréciation de son ancien col-
lègue, M. Blignières, c< for whom I entertained a sincère respect and a Avarm friend-
sliip «.Plusieurs personnages importants, Ismail, Tewfik, Arabi défilent sous nos
veux ; Lord Crorner nous fait voir le général Gordon tel qu'il était et jette une vive
lueur sur les mythes qui s'étaient formés autour de ce nom. Livre à aclieter et à lire,
qui mériterait d'être traduit en français.
On lira des anecdotes piquantes dans les Leaves froma Life, œuvre de la fille dun des
peintres « Victorian », je veux dire du nonagénaire W. P. Frith. Cette dame a quel-
quefois trempé sa plume dans le fiel, et n'épargne ni les morts, ni leurs familles.
Passons aux romans ; Hachel Chalfonl est le premier effort d'une femme-auteur,
Sophie Cole. Dans The Fli) on the Wheel [La Mouche sur la Lioue), Mrs. Thurston garde la
vogue considérable quelle a conquise. F. Marion Grawford, le romancier américain qui
habite l'Italie, publie The Prima Donna, la carrière d'une cantatrice, suite d'un autre
roman. Soprano. J. S. Flelcher dans Mothers in Israël décrit la vie intime et les chroni-
ques scandaleuses des commères d'un village en Yorkshire. Harold Bindloss a écrit sur
les plaines de froment du Canada un beau conte, By Right of Purchase. Elizabeth Robins,
autrefois actrice dans les drames d'Ibsen, et toujours féministe, dans sa nouvelle polaire
nommée curieusement; Corne and Find me (Venez me trouver), parle des chercheurs d'or
près du fleuve Yukon. John Oxenham, écrivain vigoureux, donne un autre roman sur
l'île de Sark : Pearl of Pearl Island.
Les romans écossais de S. R. Crockett s'enrichissent de son Deep Moat Grange {La
Ferme au fossé profond) . Samuel Cowan nous fournit une volumineuse histoire de la
Roijal House of Stuarl, de cette famille dont la destinée fut si brillante et si malheu-
reuse.
Londres, le 20 mars 1908.
E.-P. Jacobsen.
Osterreichisehe Handelschul-Zeitung. ZcUschrift des Vereines der Lehrkrafte
an ôsterieichischen Handelslehranstalten. — Redakteur : Prof. D"" Augusl Fi-
scher, Wien, I, Getreidemarkt, 16.
M vRz 1908. Inhalt : Autorrecht an Zeitungsartikeln nach listerreichischem und interna-
tionalem Recht. — Die Technik der Seeversicherung. — Post-und Staatssparkassen. —
Espéranto. — Feuilleton : Peru. — Allerlei Wissenswertes. — Handelspolilische Mittei-
lungen. — Personalnachrichten. — Handelsschuhvesen. — Literatur. — Zeitschriften.
— Offene Lehrstellen. — Insera le.
On lira avec profit l'excellent article sur les droits d'auteur, de traduction, de repro-
duction d'articles de journaux, le chaleureux plaidoyer de M. Karl Otto Sikor (Vienne)
en faveur de l'espéranto, et la savante étude de M. Roberto Schlosser sur le Pérou,
Bar-le-Duc. — Imprimeiie Comte-Jacquet, FACDouEL,l)ir.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 16. 20 Mai 1908. 8- Année.
SUPPLEMENT
L'ÉTUDE DE L'ALLEMAND
DANS LES ÉCOLES SECONDAIRES ANGLAISES
Les professeurs d'allemand dans les Iles Britanniques — ils sont, pour
la plupart, de nationalité ou tout au moins d'origine allemande — s'in-
quiètent et se plaignent de la crise que leur enseignement traverse en ce
moment.
Le nombre des élèves qui étudient l'allemand, loin d'augmenter, va dimi-
nuant chaque année. Une enquête faite à ce sujet dans ôa collèges de gar-
çons, ho collèges déjeunes filles et 27 institutions mixtes a donné des
résultats fort concluants : 6 782 jeunes gens apprennent le français, i 862
l'allemand; 5 291 jeunes (illes préfèrent la langue de Voltaire à celle de
riœthe, qui ne compte que 765 adeptes ; et dans les écoles mixtes 4 095
(( francisants » s'opposent à 677 « germanisants ».
Et il y a tout lieu de croire que cette proportion se retrouverait dans la
majorité des écoles du Royaume-Uni. Dans presque tous les établisse-
ments qui correspondent à nos lycées et collèges de garçons et déjeunes
fdles, le latin et le français sont seuls obligatoires. A partir des classes
supérieures les élèves peuvent opter pour une troisième langue, qui est le
grec ou l'allemand. Il reste donc peu de temps pour l'étude de cette der-
nière langue, si bien que les jeunes Anglais qui veulent s'y perfectionner
sont obligés de faire un séjour en Allemagne. Et c'est une ressource qui
n'est pas à la portée de tous.
La Modem Langiiage Association s'est émue de cette situation et dans
sa séance annuelle du 7 janvier dernier elle a longuement discuté sur les
raisons de la défaveur dont l'allemand est l'objet et sur les moyens d'y
remédier.
On s'en est pris d'abord aux autorités, au Board of Education qui, à
plusieurs reprises, a assigné la première place dans le programme d'études
modernes au français, « comme étant la langue des relations internatio-
nales et un incomparable moyen d'expression de toute pensée claire et
logique » .
On a demandé la création de Realgymnasien. de lycées d'enseignement
moderne ; on a insisté sur l'inutilité du latin et du grec au point de vue
pratique, sur l'insuffisance et la vanité des résultats obtenus par les études
classiques, sur la possibilité d'acquérir une culture forte et élégante tout
à la fois par le seul secours des langues et des littératures modernes.
Des orateurs de l'autorité de M. Karl Breul ont plaidé éloquemment en
faveur de la haute portée éducatrice de la littérature allemande. Ils ont
[96] SLPPL. 16
122 SUPPLÉMENT [762]
montré que la connaissance de l'allemand est indispensable au commer-
çant, à l'industriel, à l'homme d'Etat et à l'homme de guerre, au savant
et à l'artiste. Ils ont rappelé les affinités de race et de mœurs, les influen-
ces exercées et subies, l'amitié qui a jadis uni les deux peuples, qui doit
les ra[)procher encore.
Chose digne de remarque, personne ne s'est avisé, malgré tous ces
arguments et bien d'autres encore, de réclamer pour l'allemand une place
privilégiée ; tout au plus a-t-on demandé pour cette langue — et assez
timidement — l'égalité de traitement. Et il ne semble pas que l'on ait
grand espoir de l'obtenir avant longtemps. L'influence française est donc
assurée, si nous savons profîterd'un état de choses si favorable, d'un long
et fécond avenir chez nos voisins d'outre-Manche.
E.-II. B.
LES "TRAVAUX M4NUELS" DANS LES ÉCOLES D'AMÉRIQUE
En Amérique, on s'occupe des travaux manuels déjà dans les « jardins
d'enfants » ; nous dirions (f écoles maternelles ». Comme en Europe, ils
consistent surtout en exercices Frôbel, mais ils tiennent là-bas une place
prépondérante. L'Allemagne elle-même, qui eut l'heureuse idée des
« jardins d'enfants » , se laisse dépasser de beaucoup, dans la pratique,
par certaines autres nations. Les petits Américains sortent donc des écoles
maternelles fort bien préparés et entrent dans les écoles primaires où
l'enseignement pratique prend un caractère sérieux.
Il y est mis au même rang que les exercices ayant pour but de déve-
lopper les facultés intellectuelles. Pendant les 8 ou 9 années que les enfants
passent à l'école primaire, ils apprennent à dessiner et à exécuter toutes
sortes de travaux en carton, en bois, en métal. Quand ils sont jetés dans
la vie, ils possèdent ainsi une bonne somme de connaissances techniques
dont ils peuvent immédiatement tirer parti. El ceux qui veulent se per-
fectionner dans ce sens peuvent le faire à la Iligh School. La Iligh School
correspond à peu près aux classes moyennes de nos écoles primaires
supérieures. On y reçoit un enseignement technique et les élèves y
apprennent le maniement des machines.
L'écolier qui vient de l'établi et qui a manié le rabot se familiarise avec
certaines machines à travailler le bois, puis il passe aux métaux et enfin il
apprend à connaître pratiquement et théoriquement les machines à force
motrice.
Une classe de la High School ressemble à un atelier ou à une usine. Les
courroies s'y entrecroisent et les élèves circulent au milieu de tout cela
avec une aisance qui étonne l'Européen.
Ces établissements pour jeunes gens de i/i à 17 ans ne sont pas des
écoles professionnelles. Bon nombre d'élèves embrassent plus tard des
carrières c[ui n'ont aucun rapport avec l'enseignement technique. Mais
on sent bien quelle importance doivent avoir ces années d'apprentissage,
même pour le futur médecin ouïe juriste. Ce développement de l'esprit
pratique s'exerce à travers toute l'éducation américaine, depuis le jardin
d'enfants et l'école primaire jusqu'à la High School, le collège et l'Univer-
sité.
[763] SUPPLÉMENT 123
Les nations qui n'attrilDuenl pas à l'enseignement technique ce rôle
prépondérant n'en doivent pas moins reconnaître la valeur de cette éduca-
tion et s'incliner devant les résultats qu'elle donne.
E.-H. B.
ÉCHOS ET NOUVELLES
On continue à s'occuper activement eu Angleterre d'une vaste enquête sur
renseignement de la morale dans les écoles. Un comité, en relations avec celui
de Londres, s'est formé dans les États-Unis : il s'occupera non seulement de
l'Amérique du Nord, mais aussi du Japon.
Le i3'= congrès des néophilologues allemands aura lieu à Hanovre du 8 au 1 1
juin. De nombreuses et intéressantes conférences seront faites en français et en
allemand. Citons :
Prof. Dr. Eichler (AMen) : Hoclideutsches Spracligut im neuenglisctien Wortschatze. —
Prof. Dr. Engwer (Berlin) : Franzusische Malerei und Litoratur im ig. Jalirh., eine
Parallèle. — Prof. Baron Locella (Dresden) : Carlo Goldoni. — Geheimrat Dr. Miinch
(Berlin) : Uber die Vorbildung der Lehrer der neueren Sprachen. — Dr. PaiiconceUi
(Marburg) : Der Phonograph im neuspracliliclien Unterricht (Experimenlalvorlrag). —
Prof. Dr. PhUippiithal (Hannover) : Taines Weltanschauung und ihre deutschen Quellen.
— Prof. Pinloche (Paris): Franzosiscbe Schûlerkolonie in Deulschland. — -Prof. Scheffkr
(Dresden : Phonographisches. — Prof. Dr. Schroer IKôln) : Ûber Sliakespeare-Uber-
setzungen. — Prof. .SV/iH'e/îd (Stultgarl) : Der Neuphilologe und die bildende Kunst. —
Prof. Schweitzer (Paris) : Les ressources de la mélliode directe.
SUJETS D'EXAMENS ET CONCOURS
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement de l'espagnol
dans les lycées et collèg'?s ' (1907).
Composition française sur une question générale
de morale ou de littérature.
Est-il désirable qu'il s'établisse une langue universelle ? — Envisager les diverses faces
de la question.
Thème.
11 n'y avait pas en ce lenips-là de médecin à Valladolid plus accrédité que le seigneur
Sangrado. 11 s'était mis en réputation dans le public par un verbiage spécieux, soutenu
d'un air imposant, et par quelques cures heureuses qui lui avaient fait plus d'bonnenr
qu'il ne méritait.
Le docteur ne manquait pas de pratiques, ni par conséquent de bien. Il n'en faisait
pas toutefois meilleure chère : on vivait chez lui très frugalement. Nous ne mangions
d'ordinaire que des pois, des fèves, des pommes cuites, ou du fromage. Il disait que
ces aliments étaient les plus convenables à l'estomac, comme étant les plus propres à la
trituration, c'est-à-dire à être broyés plus aisément. Néanmoins, bien qu'il les crût de
I. Il est accordé aux candidats : pour la composition française, i heures; pour le
thènie^ 3 heures ; pour la version, 3 heures : pour la rédaction en langue étrangère,
Zi heures. Les candidats ne peuvent faire usage de dictionnaires ni de lexiques.
124 SUPPLÉMENT [7641
facile digestion, il ne voulait point qu'on s'en rassasiât ; en quoi, certes, U se montrait
fort raisonnable. Mais s'il nous défendait, à la servante et à moi, de manger beaucoup,
en récompense il nous permettait de boire de Teau à discrétion. Bien loin de nous
prescrire des bornes là- dessus, il nous disait quelquefois : « Buvez, mes enfants ; la
santé consiste dans la souplesse et l'humectation des parties. Buvez de l'eau abondam-
ment : c'est un dissolvant universel; l'eau fond tous les sels. Le cours du sang est-il
ralenti ? Elle le précipite. Est-il trop rapide ? Elle en arrête l'impétuosité. » — Notre
docteur était de si bonne foi sur cela, qu'il ne buvait jamais lui-même que de l'eau,
bien qu'il fût dans un âge avancé. Il définissait la vieillesse une phtisie naturelle qui
nous dessèche et nous consume; et sur cette définition il déplorait l'ignorance de ceux
qui nomment le vin le lait des vieillards. 11 soutenait que le vin les use et les détruit,
et disait fort éloquemment que celle liqueur funeste est pour eux, comme pour tout le
monde, un ami qui trahit et un plaisir qui trompe.
Version.
Lo primero que se ecliaba de ver en aquella garrida muchacha cuando eslaba, à los
veinte anos, en la flor de su galanura, era la limpiezatxtremada de su atavio, 'en el que
dominaban siempre las notas claras, como si esto fuera un alarde m;\s de su pulcritud
h prueba de peligros ; y no emperejilada para las fiestas de la calle, ô las bodas de la
vecindad, 6 la misa ô el paseo de los domingos, que esto probarla bien poco ; sino todos
los dias, à la puerla de la bodega, en lo alto del Paredon, atravesadaen la acera, tejiendo
la red en el portai, sacando la barredura iï la mitad del arroyo, 6 remendando los cal-
zones de tio Mechelin ; en refajo corto, descubriendo por debajo très dedos de lienzo
mâs blanco que la nieve ; con justillo de mahôn, rayado de azul ; pafiuelo de mil
colores sobre el alto, curvo y niacizo seno ; â medio brazo las niangas de la camisa, y
otro paùolilo de seda, ciaro también, graciosamente atado, â la co/ia, sobre el nulrido
mono de su pelo castano con ondas tornasoladas de oro brufiido. La curiosidad que
excilaban estos llamativos pormenoics, moAia los ojos del observador â hacer otroS
exploraciones ;yentonces se reparaba en los lineamentos finos y gallardos de la pierna y
del pie, desnudos y blanquisimos, que asomaban por debajo de la tira de lienzo ; en cl
torneado brazo, desnudo también ; en el cuello redondo y escullural, que se alzaba
sobre los anchos liombros, y, por fin, en la cara saludable, fresca, verdaderamenle
primaveral, la porciôn mâsenvidiable de la valiente cabeza que el cuello sostenia, y sobre
el cual centelleaban, al bambolearse, los anchos anillos de oro colgando de las menudas
orejas.
Composition en langue espagnole.
Moslrar como conslituyen los refranes la vtrdadera lilosofia del pueblo, tomando por
ejemplos los siguientes, sacados de la experiencia del labriego :
— Bney viejo, surco derecho.
— Al biiey por el ciierno y al hombre por la palabra.
— Al biiey viejo mûdale el pesebre ij dejarâ elpeUejo.
— El bney bravo, en tierra ajena se liace maiiso.
École du Service de santé de la Marine (1907).
(Thème allemand ou anglaise — Temps accordé: 2 heure?.)
\u moment où le feu va commencer, im calme profond règne dans tout le na\ire.
\u tumulte du branle-bas a succédé l'immobilité de l'attente, le bruit a fait place au
silence. Le moment est grave. Chacun sent le besoin de se recueillir, de donner un sou-
venir à son passé, une pensée a sa famille et de mettre à profit ces instants dont per-
sonne ne sait le compte. La première bordée vient bientôt couper court à ces réllexions
fi chacun songe à faire sou devoir. Celui du chirurgien n'est pas le moins pénible,
i. 'enivrement du combat, les émotions de la lutte lui sont également inconnus. Il ne
sait même pas ce qui se passe sur le pont. Il ne juge de la grandeur de la lutte que
par l'horreur de ses résultats, il ne comprend les péripéties que par le genre de bles-
sures qui lui passent sous les yeux et ne peut jamais en prévoir l'issue. . . L'accomplis-
I. Sans le secours d'aucun livre.
[765] SUPPLÉMENT i 25
sèment de ses austères devoirs n'est pas toujonrs exempt de périls. Pendant les guerres
navales de l'empire, plusieurs de nos confrères ont été tués dans Texercice de leurs
fonctions. Ils suivent d'ailleurs la fortune de leur navire, et sautent ou sombrent avec lui.
Si la marine est appelée à recommencer un jour les grandes luttes des temps passes,
les moyens de destruction dont elle dispose sont de nature à niveler toutes les chan-
ces, et il y a égalité de gloire lorsqu'il y a égalité de dangers.
ROCU.J^RD.
{Service chinirgical de la flotte en temps de guerre.)
Baccalauréat Sciences-Langues (octobre 1907).
{Matières à développer . — Temps accordé : 3 heures.)
Composition en langue allemande.
BeSCHREIBE DEtKE HE1M.4.T.
AUgemeines Bild, landschaflliche Schônheiten, landwirtschaftliche und gewcrbliche
Erzeugnisse Wohin werden sie versendet? Woher bezieht man diejenigen, welche
nicht vom Boden geliefert oder nicht im Lande selbst hergestellt werden ?
Charakter der Bevrilkerung. Vorziige, Fehler, Eigentûmlichkeiten. Was gefallt dir am
besten in deinem « engeren Vaterland » ?
(Alger.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
Différent wats ov travelling.
Walking, riding (on horseback or on a bicycle), driving, motoring, going by train,
going by boat.
State the advantages and inconveniences of each of thèse difTerent ways of travelling.
\Yhich of Ihem do you prefer ? Give the reasons of your préférence.
{Alger.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
CuENTE V. COMO PASÔ SUS VACACIONES (CARTA A UN AMIGO) .
Ida y vuelta : buques, trenes, coches, etc.
Mar, lagos y rios : playas, dunas, baiios, pesca, etc.
Campos : huertas, flores, ârboles, etc.
Montes y montanas: caza, torrentes, cascades, nieve, ventisqueros, etc.
Paseos : periôdicos, libros, familia, amigos, etc.
(Alger.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Una scappata impuddente.
Narra te come un giorno, con alcuni vostri amici, presa una barca e andando qua e là
sul mare aveste a pentirvene.
1° Bel tempo ; allegrezza
2° Il tempo si guasta.
3° Disgrazia (la quale) avvenuta a un vostro camerata.
V Ritorno mesto ; sgridala et rimproveri dei genitori.
5" Conclusione. {Alger.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Ein Mann reitet auf seinem Esel nach Haus und L'ifit seinen Buben zu FuT; nebenhcr
laufen. Kommt ein Wandrer undsagt: « Das ist nicht redit, Vater. . . »
Da stieg der Vater vom Esel herab und lieli den Sohn reiten. Ivommt vvieder ein
Wandersmann und sagt : « Das ist nicht recht, Bursche... »
Da saften beide auf. Kommt ein driKer Wandersmann und sagt: « Zwei Kerlc auf
einem schwachen Tier ! ...»
Da stiegen beide ab... Kommt ein vierler Wandersmann und sagt : « Ihr seid drei
kuriose Gesellen. . . »
Da band der Vater dem Esel die vordern Beine zusammen. und der Sohn band ihm die
hintern Beine zusammen. . . {Besançon.)
126 SUPPLÉMENT [766]
Composition en langue anglaise.
An old man and a liltle boy were drivingan ass to Ihe market. <( What a fool is tliis
fellow, says a man upon the road, to be trudging it on foot witli his son... ».
The old man set his boy upon the ass. <.< Why, cried a second man to the boy, is it
fit for you to be riding ?. . . »
The fatlier took down his boy from tlie ass and mounted himself . « Do you see, says
a third, the lazy old knave ? ... »
The old man took up his son behind him. « Pray, says a fourth, is that ass yourown ? . »
The old man and his son tied the legs of the ass together and endeavoured to carry
him upon their shoulders. . . (Besançon.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Trk padre e maestro.
p. — Mi burlale ? la scuola del figliuolo
Sessanta scudi per un anno solo !
Se fossi pazzo... Costa men un bue. —
M. — Compratel dunque, che n'avrete due.
(Fulvio MARIANT)
Spiegare e sviluppare queslo apologo. (Besançon.)
Composition en langue allemande.
ARENnLAUTEN.
Es war ein heifier Sommerlag gewesen. . . Die Natur lag stumm... Sie sehnte sich
nach der Diimmerung. . . um aufzuatmen. , . Und langsam versank die Tageskonigin
ani Horizonl. . . Die Abendgiocken liiuten. Ein Windhaucli. . Das Korn duftet... Und
in den Menschen liegt die gliederliihmende Mûdigkeit. . . Und wenn der ^lond iiber der
alten Dorfkirche steht. . . (Caen.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
The Egg of Columbus.
Few men are more cntitled to the gratitude of poslerity than Columbus...
Pedro Gonzales de Mendoza, the Grand Cardinal of Spain, once invited Columbus to
a banquet The well-known anecdote of llie egg....
A shallow courtier abruptly asked him whether he thought that, in case he had
not discovered the Indics, there were no other men who would hâve been capable of
the enterprise Columbus taking an egg, invited the company to make il stand upon
one end
« Oh ! it is not difTicull in that way I «
« No. it is nol, replied Columbus, but \\\\y did you not do il before me .■' »
(Caen.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Der Garten.
"\Vie^ielerlci Giirten gibl es .^ — Teile eines Garfens. — Wo steht das Gartengeriite ?
Welches sind die Gartenarl^eilen ini FrûhlingP [Clermont.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Die Brennmaterialicn : Holz, Ilolzkoliicn, Stciiikohlen, Torf.
Wo gewinnt man sie? (Clermont.)
Composition en langue allemande.
6in S?ateï eïïïaït feincnt .^îinbc bie ffiebciitung bc§ g^eucï§ fiir ben Metife^en :
^in ïjiiuSïttfjen Scben ;
3m flcHierMid^cn Scïicn ;
.^eïfteUung non OicBraud^ygcgcnftdnbcn ;
Setricti bon 9]lûicf)inen.
©c^tuft : ba^ geuet aï§ SBebingung bet ^uïtur. (Clermont.)
[767] SUPPLÉMENT 127
Composition en langue anglaise.
Compare tlie life of a day-boy to tliat of a boarder .On one side tbe pleasiire of
family life, of walking freely aboiit the to^Yn, wben school is over, but time vvasted,
lask neglected etc.
On the otber side lire boarder is shiit up in a dreary school, scarcely any liberty on
school-days, tedioiis wallvs with an usher by liis sides, but reg-ular worli, time well
employed. And oh ! the joy of holidays spent otilside, llie travel home and tlie pleasure
of seeing: the old familiar place again !
Conclusion. Which life de you prefer? Which do you think is better for school-boys i*
You may, if yoii think fit, write a dialogue between a day-scholar and a boarder.
(Clermont.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
Write a letter to a friend whom there is no keeping away from his books ; physical
exercise is absolutely necessary to the health both of body and mind : pleasure and
benefit you dérive from sport of which you are a practiser.
{Clermont.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
A stroll througli any lown you like. A sketch of ail that attracts your notice. Personal
impressions. (Clermont.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
The Avood. Ils trees and inhabitants. [Clermont.)
DEVOIRS CORHICtÉS^
1. Der FriJhling beginnt den 21. Miirz, der Sommer den 21. Juni, der Herbst den 21.
September ; der Winter den 21 . Dezember.
2. Die Glieder dos menschlichen Korpers sind die Arme und die Beine. Wir konnen
die Arme und die Beine bewegen. Mit den Armen und den Hiinden kunnen wir arbei-
ten und spielen, Gegenstiinde anrùhren, halten, ergreifen, in BsAvegungsetzen, usw. Mit
den Beinen und den Fiiften konnen wir gelien, laufen, springen, hûpfen, tanzen.
3. Man beleuchtet die Stral^en der StJidte mit Gaslaternen oder elektrischen Lampen,
die Stral-ien der Dôrfer mit Ôl-oder Petroleumlampen .
4. In einer Ménagerie sieht man Lôwen, Tiger, Hyanen, Panther, Leoparden, Elefan-
ten, Wildschweine, Wolfe. Nashorner, Nilpferde, Kamele, AiTen, StrauÊe, Adler, Geier,
Papageie, Schlangen, usw.
(li. S., Axpirant!<, Nancy, -jre session i907 .)
1 materiali adoperati nella costruzione d'una casa sono : i mattoni, le tegole e gli
embrici, la pietra, il marmo, il travertino, il legname, il ferro, la calce, il gesso.
Le varie parti délia casa sono : le fondamcnta, le pareli, il telto, i piani, la scala, le
camere, i corridoi e gli anditi, le porte e le finestre, i balconi e i terrazzi, il cortile.
Le fondamenta servono a dare soliditA all'edilicio ; le pareti racchiudono e limitano ]o
spazio délia casa e dei vari ambienti ; il tctto copre e protegge tutto l'edificio ; i pian
suddividono la casa in vari ordini di ambienti sovrapposti ; la scala mette in comu -
nicazione un piano coU'altro ; camere o slanze diconsi i vari ambienti in cui è divisa la
casa e prendono il nome dall'uso a cui sono adibite (caméra da letto, stanza d'ingresso,
da pranzo, da studio, da ricevere, da bagno ecc.) ; i corridoi e gli anditi servono di
passaggio tra le varie camere ; le porte chiudono le camere, isolandole le une dalle
altre ; le finestre danno aria e luce alla casa ; i balconi e i terrazzi sono sporgenze che
permettono di affacciarsi sulla via e godere l'aria aperta pur rimanendo in casa ; H
cortile è lo spazio vuoto interno délia casa, su cui aCfaccia una parte délie camere.
* Voir les textes dans les n»* du 20 décembre 1907 et du 5 mars 1908.
SUPPLÉMENT
[768]
I principali cibi delluonio sono il pane e la pasta, il latte e i lalticini, la carne, le
uova, la verdiira, i cereali, gli ortaggi, le frutta, gli agnimi. il caffè, lo zucchero ecc.
II grano si niiele colla falce. si lega in covoni, trasportato siiU'aia si trebbia per sepa-
rare i chicchi dalla paglia e dalla piila, si vaglia per mondarlo del lollioe dalla veccia,
qnindi, rinchiuso nei sacchi vien coUocato nei granai.
Ouando le uve sono ben mature si vendemmiano. Alla vendemmia convengono tutti
i contadini e i braccianti ; essi si dispongono lungo i filari di vite e ciascuno taglia i
grappoli colla forbice e col falcetto e li colloca nei canestri : quando i canestri son pieni
vengon versati nei mastelli e di qui poi nei tini dove comincia propriamenle quella
série di operazioni per cui il sugo deU'uva si trasforma in vino. Durante la vendem-
mia i contadini cantano apposite canzoni che in alcune regioni non mancano di poesia .
|7). 5. Aupirants, Chamhéry, /'"e sesnion 1007 .)
BIBLIOGRAPHIE
Emilie Arnal. — Vers les sommets, Poésies. (Paris. E. Sansot et C*^)■
Voilà un beau livre, écrit avec le cœur et qui s'adresse au cœur, livre de foi, d'émo-
tion sincère et profonde, de passion généreuse, de hautes envolées.
Disciple de Sully Prudhomme à qui elle dédie ses vers, Mlle Arnal a souvent l'accent
grave et pénétrant du maître et les mêmes problèmes la préoccupent. Mais elle est réso-
lument, vaillamment optimiste. Elle accepte l'existence avec ses tristesses, ses douleurs,
ses ténèbres. Elle chante les larmes :
O Larmes, je ne puis vous maudire ;
Vous avez fait (leurir tant d'amour !
Vous m'avez fait aimer le sourire
Et comprendre le charme du jour.
Comme l'eau qui s'épand bienfaisante
Désaltère le sol tout durci,
Vous avez de mon àme brûlante
Apaisé !e farouche souci.
Si elle aime le silence,
« Refuge de nos chimères.
Et dignité de nos douleurs »,
si elle a la nostalgie du bonheur, du passé, de l'au-delà, sa voix devient vibrante,
frémissante quand elle célèbre la nature et ses multiples aspects :
. . . j'aime tout de la vie et des choses,
Avec ferveur j'offre mon cœur ouvert
A tout amour ; et mes lèvres décloses
Aspireront l'àme de l'univers.
Rarement la « douceur de vivre » a inspiré des vers plus harmonieux et plus nobles.
Mais d'autres sentiments plus intimes ou plus ardents traversent ce livre que per-
sonne ne lira sans éprouver pour son auteur la sympathie émue qu'inspirent de hautes
pensées serties dans de beaux vers.
E. -Henri Blocu.
Modem Languaçie Teaching. — The oflicial organ of the Modem Language
Association, edited by Waller RlPMA^^, Published by Adam et Charles Black.
Soho Square, London.
March 1908. Co.NTENTS : Rcport on the conditions of modem (foreign) language in-
struction in secondary schools. — Adenoids and modem language teaching. — The
place of translation. — Discussion Column. — Report of the Board of Education for
'907- — Modem Language Association. — Reviews. — From hère and there. — Good
articles.
Bar-le-Duc. — linprinieiie Comte-Jacquet, FACDouEL,Dir.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 17. 5 Juin 1908. 8' Année.
SUPPLÉMENT
L'ENSEIGNEMENT DOIT-IL ÊTRE PUBLIC ?
La question est à l'ordre du jour, en Allemagne comme en France. On
veut établir des rapports plus intimes entre parents et instituteurs ou pro-
fesseurs et on recherche les moyens de les faire naître. C'est ainsi qu'on a
proposé de rendre l'enseignement public, en ce sens que les parents
auraient le droit d'assister aux classes faites à leurs enfants.
Le Berluier Tageblatt a publié plusieurs lettres venant des intéressés
eux-mêmes, c'est-à-dire des professeurs, puis des lettres de parents et de
personnages politiques. Nous reproduisons pour nos lecteurs les passages
principaux de deux lettres ('-manant de deux professeurs dont l'opinion
est diamétralement opposée.
« On essaie, dit le professeur Rein, d'iéna, de mettre en contact les parents et les
maîtres, et cela plutôt dans les écoles primaires que dans les établissements d'ensei-
gnement secondaire. Il faut citer en première ligne les « soirées de parents » où
l'école et la famille se rencontrent et où l'on peut causer librement. Grâce à ces entre-
tiens, beaucoup d'ennuis, de malentendus et de heurts peuvent être évités, et ces
soirées devraient exister partout. C'est aux parents d'insister pour qu'on les établisse,
même s'ils rencontrent de la mauvaise volonté du côté des maîtres ou des directeurs
d'écoles. A certains jours aussi, on pourrait ouvrir l'école aux parents, pendant un
mois ou deux chaque année par exemple. Cela permettrait de supprimer les examens
de Pâques et de la Saint-Michel. Les parents se rendraient compte de tout le sys-
tème d'enseignement en le voyant appliqué jour par jour.
L'école supérieure de jeunes filles d'Eisenach est organisée de cette façon et les résul-
tats sont, paraît-il, excellents.
Tout éducateur qui tient à l'action commune de la famille et de l'école ne peut mécon-
naître la valeur de cette organisation.
Celui qui n'est que professeur ne sera pas en peine de trouver des arguments pour
la combattre. Il alléguera la perturbation apportée dans son enseignement et le carac-
tère désagréable d'un contrôle exercé par des gens incompétents.
Mais celui qui considère son œuvre comme une œuvre d'éducation aura le courage
de passer sur certains désagréments. Il sera heureux de voir les parents s'intéresser à
son travail, les enfants s'attacher à lui et lui donner toute leur confiance parce qu ils
sentiront la famille et l'école en harmonie. Mais avec notre système actuel d'écoles
inaccessibles, les parents sont autorisés à la critique et à l'opposition. Si les directeurs
et les maîtres pouvaient de temps à autre entendre les familles, leur infaillibilité rece-
vrait un terrible coup !
Les incidents désagréables qui souvent assombrissent la vie de l'école comme celle de
la famille cesseraient de se produire ou seraient considérablement réduits, si les porles
de l'école s'ouvraient au.x parents.
Les maîtres sauraient mieux comment manier chaque enfant en particulier et
pourraient éviter bien des maladresses s'ils savaient à quoi s'en tenir sur les intérieurs
et les familles. »
[102] suppL. 17
130 SUPPLÉMENT [810^
Le professeur Windelbaisd, d'Heidelberg, ne partage pas les idées du
professeur Rein.
« Dans cet enseignement soi-disant public, je vois un des troubles les plus graves
dont notre système d'éducation est menacé. On peut vanter tant qu'on le veut les avan-
tages qu'amènerait ce contrôle incessant des parents ; ils ne pourraient jamais com-
penser les inconvénients qui en résulteraient. Le pire de tous serait de fausser les
rapports entre le maître et les élèves, de leur enlever leur naturel. Le secret de tout
succès pédagogique repose sur ce fait que le maître donne librement sa personnalité
et que l'élève la laisse librement agir sur lui.
Mais le maître le plus éprouvé, la meilleure maîtresse ne pourront échapper à la
gêne que provoquera la présence des parents, même si l'on suppose que ces derniers
aient assez d'éducation pour rester purement passifs. Est-il besoin d'ajouter que le
maître sera le plus souvent exposé à des ennuis bien superflus"? Après la classe, le père
ou la mère voudront faire étalage de leur propre science et lui montrer comment il
aurait pu faire et mieux faire. Quant aux élèves, leur attention sera détournée de la
leçon et du maître à cause de la présence de leurs parents, sans parler du danger de
cette sorte de constante « représentation ». Enfln, on ne pouvait trouver de meilleur
moyen pour enlever aux enfants le sentiment de respect qu'ils doivent à leur maître.
Ils verront le maître et son enseignement soumis au contrôle de leurs parents, tout
comme eux et les devoirs qu'ils font. Même si les parents avaient le tact de s'abstenir
de toute critique en présence de l'enfant, ce dernier devinerait bien ^iteque la pensée
dominante de la nouvelle organisation est une pensée de méîiance vis-à-vis de l'école
et du professeur. Et nos écoles ne méritent vraiment pas cela. »
Le conseiller intime Matulvs, surpris par la question posée à brùle-
pourpoint, demande... un an de réflexion, tellement il la trouve embar-
rassante. On ne pourra pas accuser son jugement d'être précipité. Mais
en attendant qu'il nous livre le fruit de ses méditations, il veut bien nous
dire qu'il n'est ni l'ami, ni l'ennemi du projet. Il se demande quelle
serait dans les classes l'attitude des parents, puis si beaucoup de parents
ne risqueraient pas de comprendre de travers la métliode du professeur
et s'ils n'essaieraient pas de lui tendre des pièges. D'ailleurs, ajoute-t-il,
la question est depuis plusieurs années déjà à l'étude au ministère de
rinstruction publique. Si tous ceux qui composent le ministère demandent
tour à tour un an de réflexion, les portes des écoles allemandes ne ris-
quent pas d'être ouvertes de sitôt. 11 est d'ailleurs en Allemagne des gens
beaucoup moins embarrassés par la question et nous signerions volon-
tiers pour notre compte la déclaration suivante de l'inspecteur Fischer :
« Pour moi, il n'y a ni à hésiter, ni à réfléchir. Vous me demandez si je veux ouvrir
au public les portes de l'école primaire. Sans autre forme de procès, je réponds non et
un non sans rémission. » ^
E.-ii. n.
COURS DE VACANCES DE L'UINIVERSITÉ DE LONDRES
Les cours de vacances à l'usage des étrangers dureront 'quatre semaines, du
20 juillet au i4 août, mais les étudiants peuvent ne se faire inscrire que pour
la première ou la seconde quinzaine seulement.
Destinés surtout aux professeurs et futurs professeurs des lycées, collèges,
gymnases et écoles réaies, ils supposent une connaissance assez étendue de la
langue anglaise et l'habitude de la notation phonétique adoptée par l'Associa-
rSlll SUPPLÉMENT 131
lion phonétique internalionale. Ils ne conviennent donc pas aux débutants.
On s'attachera piincipalement à l'étude de l'anglais parlé, aux exercices de
phonétique. Le programme des Conférences comprend sept leçons de Mr.
William II. HudsOiN sur Wordsworth et Byron, une leçon de Mr. G. E. Flhr-
REN sur Rudyard Kipling, cinq leçons de Mr. Waller Rippmann sur la phoné-
tique de l'anglais moderne, des conférences avec projections sur la peinture
anglaise, des conférences de pédagogie, etc.
Des promenades et des excursions dans Londres et aux environs de la capi-
tale ont été prévues : on visitera les musées, les églises et les monuments les
plus remai'quables.
Des certificats seront décernés aux étudiants qui auront subi certains exa-
mens (Certificales ofallendance ; Cerlificates for Proficiency in Spoken English ;
Cerlificates for Proficiency in Wrillcn English).
Le prix de l'inscription pour tous les cours et toutes les conférences est de
£ 2. lo ; pour la première ou la seconde quinzaine, de € i. lo.
Le nombre des étudiants ne devant pas dépasser aSo, il sera prudent d'écrire
quelque temps à l'avance au Directeur des cours, M. le Professeur Walter
RippMANN. L'adresse devra être ainsi formulée :
The Registrar of the Universily E.rlension Board,
University of London, South Ivensington, London, S. W.
et dans le coin gauche de l'enveloppe on ajoutera :
« Director of the lloliday Course » .
NOMINATIONS UNIVERSITAIRES
— Des 14 et 30 avril et 9 mai 1908. —
M. DuEYFUSs, professeur d'allemand au collège d'Épinal, est chargé des
fonctions de professeur chargé de cours d'allemand au lycée de Guéret.
Collège d'Epinal. — M. Fukscuard, professeur d'allemand au collège de
Longwy, est nommé professeur d'allemand au collège d'Épinal.
Cours secondaires de jeunes filles de Toul. — M"'= Mathieu (Jeanne) est
chargée des fonctions de maîtresse chargée de cours d'allemand aux cours
secondaires de jeunes filles de Toul.
SUJETS D'EXAMENS ET CONCOURS
Cerlificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement de l'italien
dans les lycées et collèges ' (1907).
Gomposition française sur une question générale
de morale ou de littérature.
Esl-il désirable qu'il s'établisse une langue universelle? — Envisager les diverses faces
de la question.
Thème.
Quand je donnai la première fois mes Satires au public, je m'étais bien préparé au
I . Il est accordé aux candidats : pour la composition française, It heures ; pour le
Ihème^ 3 heures; pour la version, 3 lieures : pour la rédaction en langue étrangère,
4 heures. Les candidats ro peuvent faire usage de dictionnaires ni de lexiques.
132 SUPPLÉMENT [812]
tumulte que l'impression de mon livre a excité sur le Parnasse. Je savais que la nation
des poètes, et surtout des mauvais poètes, est une nation farouche qui prend feu
aisément: et que ces esprits avides de louanges ne digéreraient point facilement une
raillerie, quelque douce qu'elle put être. Aussi oserai-je dire, à mon avantage, que j'ai
regardé avec des yeux assez stoïques les libelles diffamatoires qu'on a publiés contre
moi. Quelques calomnies dont on ait voulu me noircir, quelques faux bruits qu'on ait
semés de ma personne, j'ai pardonné sans peine ces petites vengeances au déplaisir d'un
auteur irrité, qui se voyait attaqué par l'endroit le plus sensible d'un poète, je veux
dire par ses ouvrages. Mais j'avoue que j'ai été un peu surpris du chagrin bizarre de
certains lecteurs, qui, au lieu de se divertir d'une querelle du Parnasse, dont ils
pouvaient être spectateurs indifférents, ont mieux aimé prendre parti et s'affliger avec
les ridicules que de se réjouir avec les honnêtes gens. C'est pour les consoler que j'ai
composé ma neuvième satire, où je pense avoir montré assez clairement que, sans
blesser l'État ni sa conscience, on peut trouver de méchants vers méchants, et s'ennuyer
de plein droit à la lecture d'un sot livre. Mais puisque ces messieurs ontparlé de la
liberté que je me suis donnée de nommer, comme d'un attentat inouï et sans exemple,
et que des exemples ne se peuvent pas mettre en rimes, il est bon d'en dire ici un
mot, pour lesinstruire d'une chose qu'eux seuls veulent ignorer, et leur faire voir qu'en,
comparaison de tous mes confrères les satiriques, j'ai été un poète fort retenu.
Version.
Era una notte scnza luna e senza slelle, un lempaccio umido e un buio che si taglia>a
a fette. Benchè non fossero che i primi gionii di ottobre, pure tirava una brezzolina
d'antunno avanzato, e la si sentiva batter nel viso sorda e sottile, e scorrer sotlo i
panni, e raggrinzare le carni. S'era intorno aile nove délia sera ; il reggimento aveva
disfatto le tende e se ne stava schieralo a traverso il campo, colle armi al piede, aspet-
tando l'ordine di partire. 1 soldati, desti allora allora da un sonno brève e disagiato,
se ne stavan là tutti curvi, raggranchiti, freddolosi, con una cera agra e scontenta,
colle mani in tasca e i fucili abbandonati sul braccio ; e invece de! solito chiacchier'io,
cosi vivace ed allegro, non si sentiva che un bisbigliar rado, sommesso e svoglialo.
L'oscurità era cosi fitta che, a guardar quel campo di suUa strada, non si vedeva che la
lunga fila délie lanterne appese in cima ai fucili, ogiiuna delle quali illuminava intorno
a se quattro o cinque faccie piene di sonno. Laggiù, in un angolo del campo, oltre l'ala
estrema del reggimento, si vedevanomuovere in un piccolo spazio molli lumicini, da cul
era rischiarato vagamente un confuso affaccendarsi di persone d'abito vario attorno ai
carri e aile casse del vivandière. Qua e là pel campo luccicava ancora qualche fiam-
mella ; eran gli ultimi guizzi dei fuochi che avevano accesi i soldati colla paglia delle
tende per levarsi di dosso l'umidità contratia, dormendo, dal terreno. Tulto il resto
era nero.
Composition en langue italienne.
Fare tuUe le o.-seivazioni di prosodia e di metrica che occorreranuo sui seguenti versi :
Già era dritta in su la fiamma e quela
Per non dir più, e già da noi sen gia
Con la iicenza del dolce poeta,
•Quando un'altra, che dielro a Ici vcnia,
INe fece volger gli occhi alla sua cima
Per un confuso suon che fuor n'uscia.
Corne il bue cicilian che mugghiô prima
Col pianlo di colui, e ciô fu dritto,
Che l'avea temperato con sua lima,
Mugghiava con la voce deU'afflillo,
Si che, con tutto ch'e' fosse di rame.
Pure e' pareva del dolor trafitlo :
Cosi per non aver via néforame
Del principio del fuoco, in suo linguaggio
Si convertivan le parole grame;
Ma poscia ch'ebber colle lorviaggio
Su per la punta, dandole quel guizzo
Che dato avea la lingua in lor passaggio,
L'dimmo dire : « O tu, a cui io drizzo
La voce, e che parlavi mo' lombardo.
[813] SUPPLÉMENT 133
Dicendo : « Issa ten va ; più non t'adizzo. »
Perch' io sia giunto forse alquanto tardo,
Non tincresca restar a parlar meco.
Vedi che non incresce a me ed ardo . »
Baccalauréat Sciences-Langues (octobre 1907).
(Matières à développe!'. — Temps accordé : 3 heures.)
Composition en langue allemande.
EiNE K.LEIHE Ii\SE[. MIT EINEM GefaNGNIS.
Dort verkehrten zvA'ei politische Gefangene mileinander, nachdem sie die VVand, die
sie trennte, durchbohrt hatten. Der eine starb. Dem Freund fiel es ein, die Gelegenheit
zu benutzen um zu fliehen. Er wufite, dafi man die Verstorbenen ins Meer liinunter-
warf. So nahm er denn den Platz der Leiche seines Freundes und ivurde ins Meer ge-
schleudert. Er entkam.
Sie erziihlen dièse Geschichte. {Dijon.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
Give a detailed account of the wây you spent your last summer holidays. Did you
Iravei or make any evcursions ? Describe what you saw : Where did you stay ? How did
you spend your time ? Describe your occupations, amusements, friends, etc. Did you
play games ? Did you read any amusing or interesting book? AVhich ?
How do you intend to spend tlie next long holidays ? Suppose an English fricnd of
yours asks you to stay with him at his parents' country bouse near Bristol for a few
weeks. How would you go there ? (Dijon.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Farete la lettera d'un giovane francese ad un amico italiano.
Descriverete la provincia e la ciltà (o il villaggio) dove abita la vostra famiglia.
Inviterete l'amico a farvi una visita e per persuaderlo meglio, gli farete un' enume-
razione di tutti i vantaggi d'un soggiorno all'estero. (Dijon.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Ein Brief an einen Freund.
Erz.ïhle in BrieCforni, wie du, auf einem Ausflug von einem Gewitter ûberrascht, in
einem einsamen Hofe Obdach und eine freundliche Bewirtung gefunden hast.
(Grenoble.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
Thavellim., I'ast A^D présent.
Travelling formcrly less fréquent, more ditïicult, but aiso perhaps more picturesque
and instructive. But now one wants one's comforts, and quick travelling bas also
its advantages : one may bave to travel for business as well as for pleasure or instruc-
tion. — Conclude. (Grenoble.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Dopo un certo esitare, Lei ha deciso di dare un componimento di lingua italiana
all'esame dalla Licenza ginnasiale.
Dire il perche di questa sua decisione.
1. La lingua italiana per provenire del latino ha certa somiglianza colla francese. Da
ciô, facilita più grande . . .
2. Pregi deli'italiano. Bellezza ed incanto délia lingua. Opère délia letteratura.
3. È l'italia il paese classico de' viaggi, c per essere si vicina, si puô andar\i con più
facilita. Viaggio più intéressante e piacevolc a chi conosce la lingua..
(Grenoble.)
13't SUPPLÉMENT [814]
Composition en langue allemande.
Die pestkranren Tiere (Nach La Fontaine).
Die Tiere wurden einst von der Pest heimgesucht. — Man beschreibe die Wirkungen
der Seuclie. — Der Luwe hielt Rat mit den ùbrigen Tieren. — Rede des Lôvven : Wie
kann man das IJbel abwenden ? Er sagt, er sei bereit, sicli fiir das allgemeine AVohl
aiifziiopfern. — Antwort des Fuchses. — Beichte der librigen grofien Raubtiere. — Der
Esel kommt endlicti auch an die Reitie ; er bekennt ein geringfiigiges Vergehen. — Er
wird als schuldig erkliirt und a on den Raiibtieren zerrissen. — Moral der Fa bel.
{Grenoble.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
Make up a dialogue belween tAAo ladies taking their tea at 5 o'clock and waiting
most carefully on eacli other.
1. Give them names and say where they are, and what is on tlie table before them .
Say whicli is the guest of the olher.
2. Use direct speecli, of course. Letthem ask each other questions about their children,
about the last play they liave seen acted... now and llien let one ask the other whether
she wants milk or sugar Avitli lier tea, let her offer lier guest toast, mufflns, cakes. ..
3. Gonclude with gênerai remarks on tea. {Grenoble.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Lettera.
Un giovane francese scrive ad un italiano per dirgli che ha divisato di fare un
viaggio nella penisola.
r. Non ha mai vislo l'Italia. ma ne conosce un po' la lingua ed i costumi.
2. Si sente attratto da diverse ciltà : Venezia, rcgina delI'.\driatico, Firenze, culla délie
arti, Roma, già capitale del mondo, Napoli.. ecc.
3. Yorrebbe andare anche in paesi più piccoli a osservare le industrie nazionali e le
genuine qualità del popolo... ma..
[\ . Comunque sia, partira contento per quel \iaggio, colla speranza di ricavarne ad
un tempo piacerc e vantaggio. (Grenoble.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Die Feuebsbrunst.
Ein Ruf ertunt. " Feuer ! " hiirt man in den Straften der schlummernden Sladt
erschallen. Wir stehen erschrocken auf, kleiden uns in aller Elle an und laufen nach
der Vorstadt, wo die Brandsliitte sein soll.
Die Feuerwehr ûberholt uns. Ein groftes Haus steht in Flammen. Man sagt, es seien
noch Menschen darin.
In den Sliillen befinden sich Pferde, die nur mit Mûhe gerettet werden. Tiitigkeit
der Spritzen. Ein nebenslehendes Haus fiingt an, zu brennen. Schlieljlich aber wird
man des Feuers llerr.
Riickkehr nach Hause. {Lille.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY TOWARDS THE .NORTH POLE.
A ship is selected — for such and such qualilies. Tlie crew. pilot, officers. ^Yhat the
ship is provided with. Every préparation being completed, the ship sails from... The
voyage. Stopped, then beset, by ice. An opening. The ship enters it. The ice closes
upon it. No getting the ship ou t. Winter quarters. Life on board. Sport on the ice-
lield. Shooling bears, etc. A party nill proceed on foot over the ice with provisions,
etc. on sledges drawn by dogs. Their adventures. No end of hardships. Dogs dying one
by one. Relurn to the ship. Wilh summer the ship is freed and sails back to. . . The
reunion of friends. (Lille.)
[815] SUPPLÉMENT 13o
Composition en langue allemande.
Die Geschichte eines Brikfes.
Ans welchem Stoffe «ird das Papier verfertigt, das zum Briefschreiben benutzt
vverden wird ? — Es liegen nun verschiedene Papiersorten vor : fur Geschiiftsbriefe, fiir
Handelsbriefe, fiir den Verkehr mit Freunden und Vervvandten.
Ich sifze an meinem Tisch und fùhle das Bediirfnift, einem enlfernten Freunde
meine Erlebnisse und meine Gedanken mitzuleilen. Es ist eine Lust, sich einer gleich-
gestimmten Seele anvertrauen zu kdnnen.
So sind Briefsammlungen entslanden, diezu den besten Leislungen des menschlichen
Geistes gehôren, z. B. die Briefe der Frau von Sévigné, und niehrere andere.
Was ist zu tun, Avenn mein Brief ferlig geschrieben ist? Wie wird er an seine Adresse
befôrdert ? Kurze Darstcllung des Postwesens.
Gefùhle, mit welchen die Briefe empfangen werden. Mugen wir von unsercn Freun-
den und Angehiirigen immer nichts als Erfreuliches erfahren und ilmen nicfits als
Erfreuliches mifzuteilen haben ! (Lyon.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
The cock and the fox.
A young cock on tlie top Ijranch of a tree was crowing (chantail) so loudly lliat a fox
heard him. — He invited the cock to corne down and kiss him, because peace had been
declaredamong ail animais. — " Ah 1" said the cock, " I am delighted at the news ". Yet
he appeared to look at something in the distance. — The fox asked him what he saw
and he replied : " A pack of hounds {une meute) running towards us ". — Imme-
diately the fox went away declaring that those liounds had certainly not yet heard
of the peace. — The deceiver had been deceived in his turn. (Lyon.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
Un jôven francés narrarà â un amigo espafiol una representaciôn del Cid de Pierre
Corneille. Recordarà lo que el poeta debe à la poesîa épica y tràgica de Espana, y
mostrarâ, si puede, de haber sentido lo que hay de espanol en la religion caballeresca
de la Honra. (Lyon.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Un giovane francese, rispondendo a un giovane napoletano che gli vantava le bellezze
del suo paese, esporrà il suo desiderio di vedere tante maraviglie. Ma egli pure trova
in Francia i siti più diversi, sia imponenti che ameni. Descriverà dal canto suo una
regione di Francia, quella che più gli placera. (Lyon.)
DEVOIR CORRIGÉ
2'ic '.Bcftimmung î>cr ©torfc *.
3:ie (Slocfe bient teiï§ ïtrc^lic^en 3roecfen, teU§ ift fie ju toelttii^em @eï)ïûucf)e ïieftimint.
SBir ItJoUen junac^ft bie !itcf)ti(^e Sebeutung ber ©tode betrad^ten.
aBoï)l betonnt finb uu§ bie .«lange ber jltrdjenglocfe, rtelc^e an ollen ©onn= unb getertagen
bie glaubtgc ©emeine jur anbcic^tigen S^ere^rung ©otteâ in bie hiciten |)aUen be§ 2empeï§
einlabet. Slllein bie ©locfe tuft bie 3Jlenîcf)en nic^t blo% pr perfonlic^en Seilna'^me îottot)!
an bem geloij'^nïic^en ©otteàbienfte, hjeïc^er fit^ jonntagltc^ ttjieberïiolt, aU auà) an ïjol^en
.Rird)cnfeften, fonbern fie begteitet auc^ mit t'^rem Sdjalle bebeutenbe greigniffe bel menj(ï)=
lidien fiebenê, >ueld()e mit retigiofen geietlic^feiten begangen hjevben.Sîenn mit il)ïen 5ïeuben=
ttdngen begrûfet fie ba§ geliebte ^inb ouf bem crften ©ange feineê Sebcnë, n^enn el burd^ bie
ïjeilige Soufe in eine retigi5fe ©emeinfd^aft aufgenommen hjerben fotl. gbenfo ttiirb bie
* Sujet donné au Baccalauréat. Voir le tjxte dans le n° du 20 janvier 1908.
136 SUPPLÉMENT [816]
feierlid^c, ^rteftcrïic^e ginfegnung etne§ Srautpaareë am îtltate huxà) ben fe[ttic^en ©i|oïI
ber .fi'itd^engloiïe ticrï)eïrlic^t, iDCÏd^e rteif^in bie§ fïo'^e 6ïeigni§ ber ©emcinbe beïîûnbet.
2Btrb enblic^ bic ftctHidie Çiille cine§ ©emeinbegïiebeê jur ïii'^Ien Stuft getvûgen, fo ertont
bon bem ()oï)en Somc ha§ iâ)auexliâ)e ©eloute, tteïcï)e§ mit fetnen bûfteren Srauetfc^lagen
betn aBanberer auf feinem ïe^ten 3Bcge jur ertigen 9îu'^eftatte nac^fd^otlt. — ©o begïeitct aïio
bie ©locfe ben 5Jienjc^en in beï Zat bon ber 2Biege biê gum &xahe.
goffen luiv je^t bie hjeïtlic^e ÏBiriiantfeit ber ©locfe in§ 3iuge.
©ie bient ficîanntlii^ oft jum geuerfignal, inbem bet îiitmer ben Jîïopfel evgreift, um
buï(| bie eintbnig ttsintmernben ©(^ïage an ben .îiîranj bev ©Iode, rteïd^e fid) in Bangen
$aufen H3iebeïï)o'[en, ben ^otgïofen Sintoo'finern bie fcï)limnie ^3îû(^vid^t bon bem îluSBrucï)
einet geuet§6runft ju bertïmbigen. 5to(^ i(i)recïli(^eï ift es, tcenn rtilbe 53^anner on ben
©ttangen ber SlurmgïocÊe jer-ren unb burd) bie '^euïenben Mange berjetben has, SSolî jum
îtufftanbe, jum blutigen Siirgerîricge rufen unb bie Sofung jnv getoaïtfamen (Sr'^eïiung
gegen bie fceftetienbe ^Regierung anftimmen, toaïirenb bie ©Iode bo(^ nur ju Jriebenêfldngen
geh)ei()t rtar. 'Olur in einem galle ift bie SSerluenbung ber ©Iode ju ïriegeriid^en â'oeden
erfreulic^ : rtenn namïic^ ein cinfeerer Jeinb in bo§ 'Caterïanb eingefallen ift unb ba§ ®loden=
geiaute aller tienad)tiarten S)brfer unb ©tabte ben Sanbfturm aufruft, mit 'ïl.Ufen ùnb
Senfen, mit Srefd^ftegeln unb §eugaï)eln, mit ©abeïn unb glinten bie feinblic^en Sin=
bringtinge ju uertreiben ober nieberjuic^Iagen. Cft finb biefe .Sîlangc, hjeliSe bie ÎSolfy:
bettiaffnung unb ba^ ^ufgebot in ÎRaffe bertiinbigen, patriotiîd)en Çergen mitifommen ;
aber fie finb bod^ in iîjrem ®inbrude unï}eimlid) unb erfûUen bie Seele mit ©raufen. SBie
ganj anber§ îlingen bie ©ïodentone an unfer C^r, toeïd^e ben feftlic^en Sinjug be§ geliebten
^errfd^erê unb Sanbe§Dater§ begriijien ober bie feterïid^e Sinljolung einca berelivten (5eel=
forgerê begïeiten ! S)ie ©Iode bient cnblid) aud) baju, getoiffe '4>erioben beS îageê ju
ijejeid^nen : fie ruft mittagâ unb abenbê ben flcifeigen l'aubmann boni î^eliie, bie frbfjlid^en
,^irten bon ber SBeibc in bie traulic^e SBeT)aufung feinev licben §eimat^iittc unb ben uncr=
mûblid)en Çanbluerîer bon ber 3Bertftûttc in ben ftillen gamilientreis!.
3a, ftiiublid) fc^lagt ber geiuit^tige §ammer broTinenb an bie mctallcne .Sîrone unb ma'^nt
ba§ ©efi^le^t ber éjîcnjd^en mit évnft an bie gïiii^tigt'eit ber 3eit, bon ber fc^on ibieber ein
'^Ibfi^nitt untt)ieberï)ringlic^ entjc^njuubcu ift.
(5iac^ ©djiller.)
CSbuarb Tiicmeljer (Seutfi^e '3luffo4}=®ntmiirfe).
BIBLIOGRAPHIE
J. Leblond. — La disserfalioii philosophique au baccalauréat. — Vol. in-8" de
355 pages. (Paris, 1908, Yuibert et Nony. Prix : 4 fi'.)
Il suffirait de feuilleter le Hatc de M. J. Leblond pour se convaincre qu'il n'a rien de
commun avec lanlique manuel, objet d'horreur pour tous les maîtres sérieux, suprême
et fallacieux espoir des cancres. Une étude un peu attentive vous montrera qu'il ne dis-
pense ni d'efforts, ni de lectures, ni de réflexion. Bien au contraire, il y excite, il pousse
à l'initiative, provoque et dirige les recherches. Aussi y trouvera-t-on très peu de
dissertations toutes faites, mais abondance de conseils nets, clairs, précis, les plans
détaillés de près de 900 sujets donnés dans les différentes Facultés, d'excellentes indica-
tions bibliographiques. C'est à vrai dire un cours familier de philosophie, une suite de
causeries sur les problèmes les plus variés et souvent les plus ardus. Et Ton écoute
M. Leblond avec un intérêt d'autant plus vif qu'une longue et heureuse expérience, une
solide érudition, un goût très sûr, la passion que lui inspirent les études philosophi-
ques font de lui le guide le plus agréable, le plus avisé. Ajoutez à cela que la note per-
sonnelle ne manque jamais, qu'elle domine parfois ; ne vous en plaignez pas. Ne sentez-
vous pas que, derrière ce livre, il y a un homme, un ami ?
E. -Henri Bloch.
Bar-le-Duc. — Imprimerie Comte-Jacquet, FACDouEL,Dir.
Les Cinq Langues
No 18. 20 Juin 1908. 8* Année.
SUPPLÉMENT
ÉCOLES DE BERLIN ET DE COPENHAGUE
Il y a quelque temps, une Commission composée de 12 conseillers muni-
cipaux de Copenhague visita les écoles primaires de Berlin et le président
de la Commission déclara qu'au point de vue de l'organisation de ces
écoles, Berlin avait beaucoup à apprendre de Copenhague. Nous pourrions
ajouter que Paris et la plupart des grandes villes de France sont dans le
même cas. L'instituteur de Copenhague peut s'occuper de chaque élève en
particulier et connaître son caractère, son entourage, ce qui est impossible
à Berhn à cause du surpeuplement des classes, ce qui serait également
impossible chez nous.
Le maximum d'élèves par classe est à Copenhague de 36, mais en réahté
la plupart desclasses ne comptentque 18 élèves — quelques-unes, très rares,
3o. Le trait suivant est caractéristique. Dans une classe de Copenhague,
visitée par un Berlinois, un petit élève dormait, pendant la leçon, du som-
meil du juste. Le maître s'en aperçut; mais au heu d'éveiller l'enfant, il le
laissa dormir tranquillement toute une demi-heure. Il savait que le petit
s'était levé à 5 heures et demie, et qu'avant devenir en classe il avait porté
du lait. Ce sommeil était donc nécessaire à l'enfant épuisé, et le maître ne
l'en avait pas privé.
L'intimité qui règne à Copenhague entre le maître et les élèves existe
également entre les maîtres et le directeur de l'école. Quand il vient dans
les classes, les maîtres et les élèves ont le sentiment qu'ils ont affaire
à un bon vieil ami.
On s'occupe tout spécialement en Danemark du bien-être physique des
enfants. Pendant les âpres mois d'hiver, les plus pauvres, et ils forment
un tiers de la population scolaire, sont nourris et habillés gratuitement.
A l'école est annexée une immense salle de bains et de douches ; les enfants
sont tenus de prendre un bain tous les 10 jours. Les salles de classe
sont claires, spacieuses, toutes chauffées à la vapeur. La ventilation y est
parfaite et s"opère par l'air chaud.
Les bâtiments scolaires, au moins ceux qui sont neufs, sont entourés de
jardins botaniques où l'on trouve plus de 3oo espèces déplantes. Elles sont
à la disposition du maître pour l'enseignement de la botanique.
Les petites filles, dans les dernières années de classe, apprennent la
coupe et la cuisine. On a, dans ce but, installé des cuisines et des ateliers.
Chaque classe fait la cuisine trois fois par semaine et Ico fillettes consom-
ment ensemble ce qu'elles ont préparé.
Etant donnés la richesse de la P>ance et l'intérêt toujours croissant que
les conseils municipaux témoignentaux écoles communales, ne pourrait-on
[lOS] scppL. 18
i 38 SUPPLÉMENT [858]
pas tenter chez nous ce qui a été fait en Danemark et surtout ne jamais
confier à un seul maître la tâche surhumaine de diriger une classe de 80 à
100 élèves? E.-H. B.
SUJETS D'EXAMENS ET CONCOURS
École Polytechnique (1908).
Composition' de langues vivantes autres que l'allemand.
La maison de campagne de Talma.
Puisque le nom de la maison de campagne de Talma a été prononcé, voulez-vous
que nous l'y suivions ? Son plus vif plaisir était en effet de fuir Paris, dès qu'il avait un
jour de liberté, et de se réfugier dans cette propriété qu'il avait achetée à Brunoy,
et dont, en quelques années, il avait considérablement augmenté la valeur et l'éten-
due, plantant, bâtissant, creusant sans relâche pour occuper ses loisirs, et aussi pour
donner de l'ouvrage aux braves paysans du village, dont il aimait les propos naïfs,
et dont au dire du père Louette, son jardinier, il s'était fait de véritables amis.
Naturellement bienveillant, il éprouvait une véritable joie à faire la charité. Si bien
que lorsqu'il arrivait le dimanche, généralement ces pauvres gens qui étaient là, sur
le pas de leurs portes, le regardant passer les yeux attendris et la tête découverte,
disaient : voilà le boulanger de Brunoy qui arrive ; voilà le « père à tous ! »
École spéciale militaire de Saint-Cyr (1908).
(Epreuves obligatoires. — Temps accordé : S heures.)
Thème allemand.
Au saillant du rocher, qui plongeait dans le bleu miroir du lac, on vit bientôt appa-
raître la silhouette du bateau à vapeur, qui glissa ensuite légèrement vers l'anse voi-
sine, pour y déposeï' quelques voyageurs.
(( Les voici qui arrivent », s'écria tout joyeux l'aîné des enfants qui commençaient à
s'impatienter au bout d'une demi-heure d'attente à la fenêtre du deuxième étage,
c( descendons vite et attendons-les à la porte »,
Il n'était que temps. A peine furent-ils dans la cour qu'on entendit le tintement de
la cloche. La porte s'ouvrit et Guillaume parut avec sa vieille tante, dont il tenait le
sac de voyage à la main.
On s'embrassa avec effusion.
« Entrons vite, ma tante », dit Guillaume.
« Après une nuit passée en chemin de fer et la matinée sur le pont du bateau, vous
devez avoir besoin de vous reposer ; mais auparavant vous allez prendre quelque chose,
puisque vous n'avez pas voulu déjeuner avant de vous embarquer. »
Version allemande.
%n^ in §o'§e, fiibïir^ be§ Sovfeg, bcriammclte fief) ba^ Çnuptouatticr na(^ ^ageSan'bruc^
uub eineï f^taflofen yîndjt. Sort Ucrïiïieten \vh faft oUe tudljvcub bcâ gri3§teu %eiU be§
îafle?, \>a man uoit bicjer ©telle au§ ciiie lueitc ^i(u§fic^t f)attc. dl\iv auf ïuïjc ,Seit vitt
iinfcr &mnal mit uu§ ùhn bie ©tvnfje nad) ®... t)inau§. ®te i'uft wax gïiifjenb, ber 23oben
iiaxi, unb iibcvaU fal) man noc^ Spuven be-l geftrigen ,^îampfe§. Saâ angvenaenbe S)orf nad^
aBeften {)in luar im l'aufe bev ^îad^t non ben Ôfterreid^cvn gevnumt luorben.
(S§ max ber bvingenbe SBunjcf) bc-5 ^i-'erfiiljrerë, ï)erett§ "^eute ben fiampf tuieber auf=
aunel^men. Slier btc oon jlBei Seiten i^eïbeigentfenen îruppen tonnteu, fo fe'^ï fie fid) auiS)
i. Facultative. Temps accordé : i heure.
[859] SUPPLÉMENT 139
anftrengten, nur nacf) unb naâ) etittïeffen. (S§ bïac^ jc()on bev 'Jîac^mittag 'ferait, unb noc^
immer nid§t luaren bte 311 etner jUjetten ©i^latfjt unenfOelfrlic^en Sîïà'\U berfanimelt.
École Navale (1908).
Thème anglais'.
Partie de Christiania le ig juin igoS, à minuit, par un temps afifreux, l'expédition ren-
contra les premières glaces le g juillet en doublant le cap Farvel. Quinze jours plus tard
elle abordait dans le port danois de Godliam, y commençait ses observations et prenait
à bord, avec le matériel de campement, des provisions et des traîneaux, une douzaine
de chiens pour les explorations futures. Le Gjoa, contrarié dans sa marche par le vent
du nord, put néanmoins remonter la côte groënlandaise avant de traverser la mer de
Baffln et de s'engager dans le détroit de Lancastre. Le 22 août, il atteignait l'île Beechey ;
puis, à la recherche du pôle magnétique, il fît route au sud. Près de Presquotte, la
boussole refusa d'obéir. On était au milieu du brouillard et dans l'impossibilité de
gouverner. La marche s'effectua néanmoins vers le sud ; plus heureux que Sir Allen
Young, le capitaine du Gjoa put franchir les glaces et dépasser le détroit de Bellot. Il
faut l'entendre raconter sur le ton le plus naturel les incidents de sa route.
Certificat d'aptitude au professorat commercial (1907).
{Thème et version sans dictionnaire. — Temps accordé ; i heures.)
Langues anglaise et allemande.
Thème commun aux deux langues.
Les découvertes de la. science.
Quand nous écrivons notre histoire, nous ne la remplissons que de batailles : la véri-
table histoire de l'humanité est celle des découvertes utiles. Le jour où, pour la pre-
mière fois, on s'est servi du fer, ce jour-là la puissance de l'homme a été décuplée.
Comment ne savons-nous pas le nom de celui qui a créé le rabot ou la scie, quand
tous nos poèmes retentissent du nom d'Alexandre, qui n'a rien créé, pas même un
empire? L'inventeur de la boussole nous a, en réalité, donné la moitié du monde. Nous
voyons de nos jours des événements qui sont bien autre chose qu'une guerre glorieuse
ou une révolution politique ; car c'est en ce xix'^ siècle, c'est sous nos yeux que la
vapeur a vaincu l'espace, et que la télégraphie électrique a vaincu le temps. Avec tou-
tes nos précautions d'hommes civilisés, nous sommes encore à moitié barbares. Quand
on invente quelque engin de guerre, nous crions tous au miracle ; tandis que nous
transmettons des ordres et des nouvelles, en une minute, de Lille à Marseille, avec
autant de sang-froid et d'indifférence que si les hommes jouissaient depuis des siècles
de cette véritable baguette de fée.
J. Simon.
Version anglaise.
ÏHE END OF CUBAN INDEPENDENCE .
It was supposed that the Cubans vvere capable of developing trade and progressive
government, whereas expérience has shown that they are liable to the same weaknesses
as the people of Central America, who spend their time flghting to décide which
party shall draw the salaries and tax the rest of the population. No one doubts the
sincerity and honesty of the American promises, but this is one of those occasions when
right conduct involves some violence to past undertakings. The conditions which the
United States as an Impérial Power hâve to face, are by a curions parallel, precisely those
which Mr. Roosevelt has to face as à statesman and leader. He has pledged himself
I. Sans dictionnaire ni lexique. Temps accordé : i heure.
140 SUPPLÉMENT [860]
not to stand again for the Presidency, just as his counlry has pledged itself not to
annex Cuba. The march of events and manifest destiny are calling him to override
his personnal promise, as lliey are calling the United States to tlie rule of Cuba. He
may turn a deaf ear to ail their appeals, but by so doing he will injure his country
though at the same time he will keep his word. The United States may once more
evacuate Cuba, but if so they ivill do wrong in order to do right. This, in fact, is one
of those tremendous problems of life on which the great dramatists of old dwelt in their
plays. VVhere there is a conflict between duty and right, in whatever way the nation
or individual acts, blâme cannot be escaped. Active résistance from the Cubans may,
however, end the inward struggle by rendering the continued occupation of the island
a positive necessity ; and Americans are not likely to run away from tlie Cubans as
Mr. Gladstone's Government ran a\vay from the Transvaal after Majuba.
The Bail]] Mail.
Version allemande.
SBenn bor tjunbeït 3oï)^'c« unb meïir bie ^aufleute au§ fiatnburg obev SBien juv Sct^jjiger
Meffe reiften, \o mad)tcn fie jubor i^x Sleflament ; benn etne ]o toctte, ïange 3îeiîe jc^ien
ïebenêgefaïirlic^ ju jein. 2)ann îamen bie ^poftîutfc^en auf. 3iUere i'eutc erinnern fid^ nod^
recijt gut ber geltien .ffutfd^e, in bcv fie bon 2)re§ben nai) 2eipi\q, brei ïage ïang auf bcï
bobentofen gaTjvftïûjje fid) tcibern ïie^eu ; fie tuaren e§, bie, ûï§ Hov fiinfjig 3°^^'^" ^^^^
(Silpofteii bie 5Jieilc in einer Stunbe juriicfgeïegt ttmrbe, bie fefte iibcrjeugung au§fprad)en,
ha^ bn§ fcï;ncUe gn'^ïen cincm ben 3ttem tieïfetjeu miiffe, jo loo^l gar bie ^lugje'^ïung
ïivingen tonne. Unb jcljt? ^eljt faî)ït mon in brei nnb cincv tjoUien ©tunbc bon SveSben nai)
Sci^ijig. S)ie gute gclte .Thttfcfje, >uenn fie ncOen fic^ auf ben gtotten eifenfrf)icnen bie £oîo=
niotibe mit t>e\i langen, langen SBagenjiigen I;atte foUen boïiilievfaufcn fet)en, fie hJiirbe bie
|)aube iiter bcm Aîopf jufammen gcfd^ïagen l^a'&en !
Langue espagnole.
Thème.
Le Dauphiné.
Le besoin de plus en plus général de repos par le changement d'air et de milieu
amène des flots considérables de touristes dans les montagnes.
La montagne est en effet la grande Nature par excellence ; on s'y sent plus éloigné
que partout ailleurs des complications souvent malsaines de la civilisation, on y res-
pire un air inconnu de la plaine, on y jouit de spectacles particulièrement grandioses
et émouvants, on y fait sans fatigue dos efforts dont on ne serait pas capable plus bas.
En un mot, la Montagne réunit toutes les conditions d'une villégiature agréable
et restaurante à la fois.
Autrefois, cette montagne terrifiait ; aujourd'hui la science la proclame la grande
guérisseuse, soit <jue le soleil égaie ses pâturages émaillés de fleurs, et qu'une tempéra-
ture agréable incite aux longues promenades, aux siestes dans les sapins odorants, soit
que la neige cache vallons et coteaux, rocs et glaciers sous son moelleux manteau.
Que ce que nous disons là de la montagne ne semble pas exagéré au lecteur, car
nous ne formulons que notre propre expérience, et c'est pourquoi nous avons l'intime
conviction de rendre service en disant à chacun : Si vous le pouvez, aussi souvent que
vous le pourrez, allez à la montagne.
Faites provision au départ de bonne humeur et de gaîté, et la montagne se présen-
tera à vous avec ses charmes enivrants, et vous laissera des souvenirs ensoleillés et
précieux.
Si vous êtes décidés à revêtir l'état d'ùme que la Nature exige de ceux qui implo-
rent ces bienfaits, n'attendez pas les grosses chaleurs de l'été, profitez au contraire des
belles journées de juin et de juillet, car il y a là-haut sur les monts, et plus bas dans
les vallées ombreuses, des champs de narcisses qui embaument, de vastes étendues où
les lis s'épanouissent en nombre.
Partez. . .
Partir, mais où ? .... Voilà, vous êtes embarrassés.
Vous a^ez tout près de vous, à quelques heures de toutes les grandes villes françai-
ses, une province admirable, où la Nature a prodigué ses dons avec une largesse infinie.
'8611 SUPPLÉMENT 441
Cette province est le Dauphiné, et nous allons essayer dans les lignes qui vont sui-
vre de vous donner les renseignements nécessaires pour y venir et y séjourner.
Version.
Inmigracion y colonizacion.
En un foUetto de G6 paginas se ha publicado recientemente por el Ministerio de-
Obras Pùblicas un interesante informe sobre la materia, del que es autor el sefior D.
Tomâs Carrasquilla H. Dicha producciôn — notable por mâs de un concepto — merece
sérias meditaciones y ser tenida en cuenta por los que se ocupan con seriedad en los
grandes problemas sociales que nos urge resolver.
Después de magnifica enumeraciôn de todas las levés y decretos que sobre el parli-
cular se han dictado en Colombia desde 1828 liasta la fecha, concluye el autor con la
division de la inmigraciôn en artificial y esponlunea, y se expressa asi de la primera :
« El problema de la inmigraciôn artificial es sumamente complejo, pues hay que
cuidardela propaganda, los transportes, la alimentaciôn, instalaciôn, estadistica, vigi-
lancia, distribuciûn de fondos y olros muchos detalles que deben atenderse en oportu-
nidad para evitar las gravîsimas dificultades y trastornos que trae consigo el hecho de
que faite algùn elemento muy indispensable en el momento en que mâs se necesita ;
ademâs, la inmigraciôn artificial es un medio muy peligroso de atraer al extranjero,
porque para ponerlo en prâctica es preciso ser libéral, y la excesiva liberalidad seduce
y atrae â las l'iltimas y mâs deprimidas capas sociales, ,'i aquellas donde vegetan los
viciosos, los ineplos y los holgazanes, â quienes cautiva la idea de que pueden vivir sin
trabajar ; y esta esperanza es la que los induce ;'i ir alli donde se ofrece mucho, sin
preocuparse del mi'is alli'i, porque nada tienen que perder y estan decididos ;'i vivir,
unas veces como parasites, otras como mendigos y en l'iltimo caso en una prisiôn, si
en ella vegetan sin trabajo de ninguna especie. Por eso esas agrupaciones de inmigran-
tes contratados, formados por la escoria de las sociedades europeas, por les déclassés
sin oficio ni bénéficie, por los vencidos en la lucha con la vida, recogidos en los tugu-
rios de los campos y ciudades del Viejo Mundo, son nocives à la sociedad en que
ingresan, son ineptos para el trabajo y carecen por completo de la energîa que inspira
la idea de la individualidad. »
Concours pour l'emploi d'administrateur stagiaire
de Tinscription maritime (1907).
Thème anglais.
Utilité de l'étude de l'histoire militaire maritime.
L'étude de l'histoire militaire dans le passé, telle que nous allons la faire, est recom-
mandée par de grands capitaines comme essentielle pour donner des idées justes sur
la manière de conduire habilement les guerres à venir.
Parmi les campagnes que doit étudier celui qui aspire à mener des armées, Napoléon
cite celles d'Alexandre, d'Annibal et de César ; et les écrivains techniques s'accordent à
reconnaître que, malgré les changements dans les conditions de la guerre qui se pro-
duisent d'âge en âge avec les progrès de l'armement, il y a certains enseignements de
l'histoire restés invariables, d'une application universelle et constante, qui peuvent
être élevés au rang de principes généraux. Par la même raison, l'étude de l'histoire
maritime du passé reste aussi instructive. Elle met en relief les principes généraux de
la guerre sur mer, en dépit des changements introduits dans les armes par les progrès
scientifiques, en dépit même de la vapeur.
Procéder à cette étude historique et critique, dégager les leçons données par l'expé-
rience des guerres maritimes au temps des navires à voiles/ est non seulement utile,
mais nécessaire.
142 SUPPLÉMENT [862]
Baccalauréat Sciences-Langues (octobre 1907).
(Matières à développer. — Temps accordé : 3 heures.)
Composition en langue allemande,
^ic îBcïfcljrsmtttcl.
I. ®er 3Bagcn ; bet 5).5oftU3aôen ; bie Sïoic^ïe.
II. 5Ëte eijenba'^n.
III. ®o§ ^a'^rrob ; bet Mototrtagen.
IV. 3)a§ ©(^iff.
V. 3)a§ Suftfdiifî. (Nancy.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
On modes of travelling.
In a dialogue behveen tno friends, one a lover of past things, the olher a believer
in progress, state the advantages and inconveniences, and, if the case permits, the
origin and history of :
1. VValking and cycling ;
2. Driving and motoring ;
3. Stage-coaches and railways;
i. Sailing-boats and steam-ships. (Nancy.)
Composition en langue allemande,
^ic ivi(()ti0ftcu !ycitcl)iêmj<tcl,
($-iutettuiid : Uuîcre 3eit fte^t in bem ;^cid)eii bcu S5erfc()v» ; ge)uatttge, beluunbcïnStoertc
^tnberungen finb in biefev a^ejteliung gegen fïiU}cv bov fid) gegangcn ; nic^ty ift mafix fern,
nic^t§ nxeî)r fvemb, aUe§ nal)e gevUiït unb beîaunt ; bic §inberniffe be§ 3iaume§ unb bev 3«it
finb ilberbriicft.
3<u«fuf)ïunfl : '/. 35erïel^x§mtttei jut Sermittcïung nnb SScrtrcitung bon ^lOc^ïtd^ten :
1. ^ettungen (^fû(ï)riri)ten lucrben fc^nell unb Billig beîannt).
2. i^oft (^oftïortcn, S3ricfe, ^aîete, ©elbîenbungen ; fdjnell, fid)er, billig).
3. ietegrûp'^, 5lelcVÏ)on, unterfeetfc^e S^elegrap'^cn.
4. ^Brieftauben, £nftï(ï)ifferct.
b. 58eïîe'^ï§mittel fiit '•|!cïfonen unb fiiv ben %van§poït non ©iitetn :
1. gifenïiaïjn (faft iiberûtl, Serge burd)t)o^ït, ©djlud^ten unb ©ewciffet uïicvbrMt, fc^neEeS,
bequenteê Sieifcn, fd^nellex ®iitcrtran§}jort).
2. ©d)ifte (©egeï=, ®ampf= ; gtofeoïtig unb bequcm etngerid^tet).
3. ^fetbe: unb ©tïofeenba'^nen, eïeîtïifd^e SSo'^nen in gro^en ©tabtcn ; 3a'^nïûi'ï"a'^nen.
4. Cmnibuffe, î)>oftcn nuf Sanbftrafeen.
S(f)luh : SSetrieb unb S^erlualtung biefer »uoI)Uatigcn, fegen§feid)en 6invi(^tungen nid^t
leid)t unb qui^ oft feljr toftfpietig. (I\uis.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
Christopiier Columbus.
He sets sait in August lilga. Describe his three small sliips ; the crowd cheering, the
sailors full of hope. —
The long monotonous voyage, the alarms of llie men. They try to compel Columbus
lo return. —
The ships come in siglit of one of llie West India Islands. Interval of suspense and
expectation. — Description of the island, flat and verdant fields, woods, rivers. —
The crew of the Pinta begin to sing the Te Deum. Transports of joy. They throw
Ihemselves at the feet of their commander wilh feelings of self-condenination. —
They row towards the island. They see it covered with a multitude of people whose
altitude and gestures express Avonder and astonishment at the sight of the Spaniards
and the vast machines in which they bave traversed the Océan.
Neither the natives nor the Spaniards foresaw the future of the New World.
(Paris.)
[8631 SUPPLÉMENT 143
Composition en langue espagnole.
La isLA DE Jacja.
Ilace algunos dias, Pascualito llegô â la escuela con semblante muy triste y, al pre-
guntarle un amiguito que porqué venla tan descontento, Pascualito le contô un sueno
que habia heclio durante la noche.
Pascualito se habia visto transportado en un pais maravilloso, una verdadera isla de
Jauja ', en la cual la gente vivia en la mayor felicidad : nada de trabajo, muchas
riquezas, mucha salud, mucha liberlad ; el clima era de lo mâs templado, la naturaleza
producia los manjares nias complicados y exquisitos, sin necesidad de cocineras ; no
habia mâs que alargar la mano para alcanzar cuanto se desease, etc., etc. Enfin, ese
pais sonado era un paraiso incomparable, que Pascualito se esforzô en describir.
Pero â lo mejor de su sueno, su mamâ le despertô y tuvo él que levantarse para
estudiar las lecciones antes de ir à la escuela.
Reprodi'izcase el relato que Pascualito hizo â su amigo. (Paris.)
Composition en langue italienne.
Ammutinamento popolare.
Era quelle il second' anno di raccolta scarsa. Il pane aveva rincarito. . . Disgusto del
popolo che non poteva mangiar pane.
Un giorno, si riuniscono molti uomini in crocchi nelle strade e nelle piazze. Di-
scorsi, lamenti, minacce. Rabbia comune.
Dalle botteghe dei fornai escono i garzoni che con una gerla carica di pane vanno a
portarne aile solite case. Cosa fanno gli ammutinati ?
Fra poco la gente s'avventa verso un forno presso di là. Si chiude la bottega, ma la
moltitudinesfonda la porta, mettendo tutto sotto sopra, efinalmente incendia la bottega...
Trionfo délia moltitudine. (Paris.)
Composition en langue allemande.
Ein Jûngling hat seine Erziehung und seinen Unterricht der Gutherzigkeit eines
Oheimes zu verdanken. Da jetzt seine Studien zu Ende sind, schreibt er an den Oheim
einen Brief, um ihm fur aile seine Wohltaten zu danken. (Poitiers.)
Composition en langue anglaise.
Describe, under the form of a letter, the life of an English schoolboy. The school is
situated in the country, which affords many opportunities of diversion between school-
hours. A great part of the time is devoted to out-door games, cricket, foot-ball, tennis,
golf, etc. The pupils are not very numerous, they lead a sort ot family life
between the teachers and their comrades. The bigger boys enjoy certain privilèges, but
they bave a kind of responsibility over the younger. What are the advantages of such
a System of éducation ? (Poitiers.)
Composition en langue espagnole.
Carta dirigida, de Espana, por un joven Francés ;i un amigo en Francia.
1 . Se describin'i la ciudad en que vive ;
2 . Su vida y primeras impresiones ;
3. Ventajas que se pueden sacar de semejantes viajes : la lengua ; las amistades ; los
recuerdos. (Poitiers.)
Composition en langue allemande.
EiNE Entgleisung.
Am Bahnhof : der Zug fjihrt mit Verspiitung ab.
Die meisten Wagen besetzt. Die Reisenden sitzen gemiillich in den Abteilen ; sie
rauchen, scherzen, lesen Zeitungen, usw...
Der Zug eilt in schnellster Geschwindigkeit. . . , gelangt an eine breite Brûcke...
Plutzlich ein Rasseln. . ., die Brûcke bricht ein. Schildre umstandlich die Entgleisung.
(Rennes.)
1 . En francés : Pays de Cocagne.
144 SUPPLÉMENT [864]
Composition en langue anglaise.
The " WHITE SHiP " (A.D. 1120).
I. As King Henry I liad left Normandy for England, the Prince his son prepared to
follow him, together with more than a hundred noblemen, on the " White Ship, " com-
manded by Fitz-Stephen, one of the best sailors of his time. The Prince, being a gay
companion, ordered the captain to give his nien three casks of wine. Then he and his
noblemen spent the evening merrily, singing and drinking.
II. When the ship sailed, at midnight, tiiere was not one sober seaman on board. The
night was beauliful ; the Prince and his court were gay. A crash !... The ship has
struck upon a rock !... Fitz-Steplien managed to catch hold of a floating rafter, but
when he saw that the Prince was drowned, he sank to the bottom.
III. The King, at Court, is waiting for his son. Nobody dares tell him the frightfui
news. At last, the courtiers send a little boy as a messenger. The King fell to the
ground, and never afterwards was seen to smile. iHennen.)
DEVOIRS PROPOSÉS
Welche Tiere liefern uns ihr Fleisch?
Wie heilien die verschiedenen Sorten Fleisch ?
Was macht die Kiichin damit das Fleisch nicht roh gegessen werde ?
Welclie Gemûse essen Sie roh ? Welche essen Sie gekocht ?
Wozu gehen Sie gewohnlich auf die Post ?
Welche Gegenstiinde verfertigt der Tischler ? Nennen Sie einige der Werkzeuge die
er braucht und sagen Sie zu was sie dienen.
{[}. S., Asp'", Grenoble, '2^ session 1907 .)
1. What clothes does a man, a boy wear ? What is the use of clothes ? Are they the
same in ail seasons ?
2. What do we eat ? At what time do the English take Iheir meals ? What do they
eat at thèse meals, what do they drink ? Don't they dress for one of them?
3. I bought. 3 dozen eggs at i d. a pièce, 3 chickens at as. G. a pièce.
I had É I . in my pocket ; was that pound suffîcient ?
(6. S,, Asp'% Alger, 1^^<' session 1901.)
BIBLIOGRAPHIE
Die franzosischen homonymen Worter in phonelischen Gruppen, ihr Ursprung und
iJire ijbersetzung ins Dsutsclie. Zum melhodischen Studium des franzosischen
Wortschatzes, seiner Orthoëpie und Orthographie, zusammengestellt von
Dr Anton BUrger. (Paris, 1907, Boyveau et Ghevillet. a4 pages in-8°. Prix : i fr.)
Ce travail est surtout destiné aux Allemands désireux de se familiariser avec les
nuances de notre prononciation ; les homonymes y sont classés par séries. Il y aurait
bien des réserves à faire sur ce classement, qui est loin d'être logique et rigoureux.
Os ne se prononce pas comme hausse ; il y a une différence très appréciable entre
(je) sais et sept, entre taon (pron. tan) et je tondu, etc.
Citons aussi quelques fautes d'impression :
page I, le Mars au lieu de Mars ;
— 5, le clere au lieu de clerc ;
— 2, la foudre (Faft) au lieu de le foudre.
Mais ces taches sont rares et il faut louer l'érudition patiente de l'auteur.
E.-H. B.
Bar-le-Duc. — Imprimerie Comle-Jacquet, FACDOUEL,Dir.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 19. 5 Juillet 1908. 8* Année.
SUPPLÉMENT
INSTITUTEURS ALLEMANDS EN AMÉRIQUE
Nous avons parlé, à plusieurs reprises, de l'échange des professeurs entre
l'Amérique et l'Allemagne. Un professeur de l'Université Harvard est venu
à Berlin, un professeur de Berlin est allé en Amérique. On veut mainte-
nant envoyer des instituteurs allemands en Amérique et des instituteurs
américains en Allemagne. Suivant le désir de l'empereur, un instituteur
berlinois irait à Boston et un instituteur de Boston viendrait à Berlin.
L'instituteur allemand, nous dit M. Tew, aura beaucoup à apprendre en
Amérique. Les écoles du peuple, au point de vue des bâtiments et du maté-
riel, l'emportent de beaucoup sur les écoles allemandes.
En ce qui concerne l'enseignement, on a beaucoup plus égard aux facul-
tés naissantes de l'enfant qu'à la méthode du maître. Tout petit, sur les
bancs, l'enfant est déjà considéré comme « self-made man ».
La méthode orale, qui joue en Allemagne le rôle principal, est reléguée
là-bas au second rang. Même dans les petites classes, on n'hésite pas à
mettre un livre entre les mains de l'enfant ; on se contente de le guider, on
lui montre comment il peut s'assimiler ce que contient le livre. Dans les
bibliothèques et les salles de lecture pour enfants, il continue à choisir et à
lire les livres qui compléteront son instruction. C'est ce qui explique le
prodigieux essor qu'ont pris là-bas les bibliothèques et les salles de lecture
à l'usage des enfants.
La pédagogie américaine n'attache que peu d'importance à l'observation
minutieuse d'un plan d'études, à un enseignement donné sans interrup-
tion d'un bout de l'année à l'autre, rêve de certains pédagogues allemands.
Les vacances durent, en Amérique, plus longtemps que les classes. Il faut
aller là-bas pour se persuader que le talent d'un maître consiste, non à
inculquer certaines connaissances précises, mais à mettre en éveil toutes
les facultés de l'enfant. On n'y connaît pas le « cycle complet d'instruction »
qui joue un si grand rôle en Allemagne. On donne des impulsions, on met
en branle l'activité personnelle, c'est tout.
Dans l'éducation, on considère toujours l'enfant comme une personne
ayant des droits. On le prépare à se diriger librement de par le monde. , .
Et même dans les endroits où la coéducation n'est que tolérée, non vou-
lue et souhaitée, on traite les deux sexes absolument de la même façon.
[114] suppL. 19
146 , Supplément [906J
En Amérique, l'école domine tout, tandis qu'en Allemagne on songe
d'abord à la police, à l'armée, à une foule d'autres choses . . .
En résumé, l'instituteur allemand pourra rapporter d'Amérique des idées
qui introduiront dans les écoles une vie fraîche et neuve.
COURS A L'USAGE DES ÉTRANGERS ET
COURS DE VACANCES
Beaucoup d'étrangers désireux de se familiariser avec notre langue et notre
littérature ignorent encore les ressources que leur offrent nos Universités. La
plupart d'entre elles ont organisé à l'usage des étrangers des cours spéciaux
qui durent toute l'année et des cours de vacances. On nous saura peut-être
gré de résumer ici les renseignements que nous avons pu nous procurer à ce
sujet .
Université de Grenoble.
A tout seigneur tout honneur. Il semble bien que ce soit l'Université de
Grenoble cpii jouisse particulièrement, abstraction faite de celle de Paris, de la
faveur des étrangers. Les cours de vacances y ont attiré l'an dernier 5o2 audi-
teurs et l'on a tout lieu de croire que ce nombre sera dépassé cette année. A
l'usage des étiangers l'Université a institué en dehors de l'enseignement ordi-
naire delà Faculté des lettres : 1° 12 heures d'enseignement spécial par se-
maine ; 20 des cours magistraux, des conférences et exercices pratiques, des
travaux de laboratoire ; 3o des cours de vacances d'une durée de quatre mois
(du i""" juillet au 3o octobre).
11 y a quatre sessions d'examen par an : mi-mars, (in juin, mi-août, fin
octobre pour les grades d'Université institués pour les étrangers :
a) Certificat d'Etudes françaises ;
h) Diplôme de Hautes Eludes de langue et de littérature françaises ;
c) Diplôme d'Etudes supérieures de phonétique ;
d) Diplômes d'Etudes supérieures d'histoire et de géographie, de ijhiloso-
phie, etc.
e) Doctorat d'Université.
On n'exige des candidats aux différents examens énumérés ci-dessus la pro-
duction d'aucun diplôme français ou étranger.
Les Facultés de Droit, des Sciences et l'Ecole de Médecine ont également
créé des cours pour les étrangers.
Le semestre c^ue les étudiants allemands passent à la Faculté de Droit leur
est, sous certaines conditions, compté en Allemagne pour l'admission aux
examens d'Etat. A l'Ecole de Médecine, les étrangers peuvent faire les trois pre-
mières années de leurs études et les étudiants de Leipzig y font un semestre
qui leur est compté dans leur Université.
Les étrangers ont à leur disposition bibhothèque, cercle et salles de travail,
ainsi que des facilités de relations, échanges de conversation ; ils peuvent faire
partie des excursions organisées par le Comilé de patronage à des prix très
[907] SUPPLÉMENT 147
réduits ; ils trouvent à Grenoble des pensions de famille dont le prix moyen
est de iio à i5o francs par mois, tout compris ; chez un professeur, 200 fr.
par mois.
Le Comité de patronage fonctionne régulièrement depuis une dizaine d'an-
nées ; il se met à la disposition des étrangers pour faciliter leur installation.
Pour être immatriculé il faut acquitter les droits (3o fr.) pour toute l'année
scolaire; les étudiants étrangers qui suivent les cours de langue française ont
à payer un droit de 20 francs par semestre.
Le semestre d'hiver commence le 3 novembre, le semestre d'été le i5 mars.
L'immatriculation est acceptée à n'importe quelle date au cours du semestre.
Le prix de l'immatriculation pour les cours de vacances est de ko francs pour
6 semaines, de 10 francs pour chaque quinzaine complémentaire, ou de
Go francs pour toute la durée du cours.
Rappelons, pour terminer, que les cours de phonétique de l'Université de
Grenoble ont acquis une notoriété largement méritée et que les étrangers trou-
veront, à côté des cours de français, des exercices detraduction (allemand, anglais,
italien et russe).
Pour tous les renseignements, les étudiants étrangers sont priés de s'adresser
au Président du comité de patronage, à l'Université.
Université de Nancy.
Les cours de français organisés à l'Université de Nancy ont pour but : de
donner aux étrangers un enseignement pratique de notre langue : de leur faire
connaître la France contemporaine ; de préparer au Certificat d'études fran-
çaises de cette Université.
Les cours se divisent en trois séries : 1° semestre dliiver, du i*^"" novembre à
Pâques; 2° semestre d'été, de Pâques à mi-juillet; 3" vacances, de mi-juillet au
3i novembre. Ils commencent cette année le 7 juillet. Pour être admis à suivre
les cours pour les étrangers, il faut : a) pendant l'annf^e scolaire : i" Être imma-
triculé à l'Université (3o fr.) ; 2» Acquitter un droit de 20 fr. par semestre.
{b pendant les vacances : acquitter un droit d'immatriculation de 4o fr. pour un
mois et de 10 fr. pour chacun des mois suivants. Maximum de versement : 60 fr.
Les cours comprennent :
I. Des exercices pratiques de langue écrite et parlée (grammaire, orthographe,
vocabulaire; phonétique et rédaction; éléments de notre histoire littéraire) :
huit heures par semaine. — Ces exercices ne doivent jamais réunir plus de 35
auditeurs à la fois ; lorsc^ue ce nombre est dépassé il est créé des divisions a, b,
c, etc. — Au début de chaque série, les étrangers qui ne sont pas assez habi-
tués à notre langue pour écouter avec fruit ces exercices pratiques, sont pris à
part pendant deux heures par semaine jusqu'à ce c^u'ils puissent assister utile-
ment aux exercices pratiques ;
II. Des cours dont voici l'énumération :
1° Phonétique et grammaire ;
2° Explication d'un auteur du moyen âge ;
3° Histoire de la littérature française au moyen âge ;
4° Histoire de la littérature française (xixe siècle) ;
5" Conversation sur des sujets abstraits désignés à l'avance ;
6° Histoire contemporaine de la France ;
7" Géographie de la France ;
148 SUl>PLÉMlîîVT [908 !
8" Traduction d'allemand en français ;
9° Traduction d'anglais en français ;
lo» Traduction de russe en français.
Signalons deux institutions fort utiles aux étrangers : le séminaire de philo-
logie moderne (droit d'entrée : 5 fr. ; mensualité ; o fr. 5o) et la Soch'lé nan-
céienne pour l'étude des langues étrangères (ad, rue des Carmes).
Le prix d'une pension, à Nancy, varie entre loo et i5o fr. ; celui d'une
chambre meublée, dans une famille, entre 25 et 35 fr.
Pour tous renseignements, s'adresser au Directeur des cours pour les étran-
gers, à l'Université.
(A suivre.)
SUJETS D'EXAMENS ET CONCOURS
École spéciale militaire de Saint-Gyr (1908).
( Épreuves facultatives.)
Thème commun pour les langues étrangères facultatives.
Il y a sur Lycurgue bien des incertitudes. On croit qu'il naquit dans le X» siècle
et qu'il était fils du roi Eunonios. Son pore, en voulant séparer des gens qui se bat-
taient, reçut un coup de couteau dont il mourut. Son frère aîné Polydectès eut de
même une fin prématurée et Lycurgue fut roi tant qu'on ignora que son frère aîné avait
laissé un fils. La reine, sa belle-sœur, lui offrit de faire périr l'enfant à condition
qu'il l'épouserait. 11 trompa ses désirs coupables et sauva son neveu.
Les grands, irrités de la sagesse de son administration pendant la minorité du jeune
Charilaos, le forcèrent à s'exiler. Il voyagea longtemps pour converser avec les sages et
étudia les couliimes des nations étrangères.
A son retour à Sparte, après une absence de dix-huit ans, il trouva la ville pleine
de troubles : le peuple lui-même sentait le besoin d'une réforme.
Lycurgue fit accepter ses lois sans résistance.
Version anglaise.
LmPORTANCE OF riRE IN THE ATTACK .
It is practically certain tliat the bayonet attack, as the final action in a battle, willahvays
retain its importance. But the concentration under modem rille fire according to our
présent tactical methods, of masses of troops in sufQcient strength to deal the enemy
a décisive blow, lias no advantage which can counterbalance the losses it enlails. More-
over, in dealing with an opponent vvlio is aware of bis fire superiority, and strives to
maintain a maximum of fire up to the very last stage of the battle, \ve should reply
by fire.
Hère (in Russia), however, we are hampered by the recognised custom of allotting
only half the rilles to the firing line, instead of at once acting in accordance with
requirements ; the resuit is that the firing line is weak in rifles, and cannot develop
sufficient fire.
As an example, let us take a régiment to four battalions. As a rule two battalions
are placed in the fighting line, and two in reserve. Each battalion follows the same
procédure, and allots two of its companies to the first line, each of which détails a half
Company to the firing line. The resuit is that there are altogether, in the firing line,
four hundred rifles out of a total of Saoo. Tins number cannot be regarded as suffi-
cient.
[909] SUPPLÉMENT 149
Professorat des Écoles normales ' (1908).
[Aspirants et aspirantes. — Temps accordé: 4 heures.)
Rédaction en langue étrangère.
Sujet a développer en allemand.
6in ^nabe- rtoUte etnen 3lu§flug auf ba^ Sanb mac^en. @§ regnet. S)a§ berbriefet i^n.
Sennoc^ troftet er fict), tnbem et bebenît, ba^ ber Sîcgen — ©cgenftanb fetneS SJeïbruffeê —
jal^treic^en ©ejc^opfen ju @ute !ommt.
Sujet a développer en a:<glais.
It is raining. A boy (or a girl) who was about to go for a trip in the country, feels
disappointed. But ne (or she) cheers up at the idea that the rain, which causes }iis (or
her) disappointtnent, is a blessing to many other créatures.
Sujet a développer en espagnol.
Un joven (ô una jûven) se desconsuela al ver que esta lloviendo y que no puede veri-
ficar el paseo que habia proyectado dar por el campo ; pero pronto se consuela al pensar
en los beneficios inmensos que la lluvia causa à muchos seres de la creaciun.
Sujet a développer en italien,
Piove : un ragazzo (o una ragazza) che aveva divisato di fare una gita di placera, si
dispera ; ma poi si consola col riflettere che quella benedetta pioggia giova a tante créa-
ture.
Version allemande.
aaSic ce iu btv Sd)u(c î>cè alicxt Set^tetè (»d)uti i»9tu(j.
3iae ©tunben be§ Çetrn Si^uïj waxen jugleii^ îutnftunben. 2Benn nciinïic^ feine ©d^iiïev
cttoaS hju^ten, hann fptangen fie auf bte giifee unb ftrerften hjeit ben ginger bor ; toenn fie
e§ genau mufeten, fprangen fie auf bie ^anî ; iDUBten fie e§ gauj genau, bann fttegen fie auf
bte îifc^e ; tuenn fie ûber ettoag ganj @ettene§ unb ©c^tnierigeê ttuçten, bann ïamcn fie au§
ben SSdnfen ^eraug unb ftiirmten |)errn (Sc^ulj ; fie bo^rten i'^tn faft iïjre gingeïd^cn tn§
îtuge unb fc^rieen : ,,^i), §err Simula, id), iâ}, xà) !" ha'^ eâ au§fa'^ unb fii| anï)5rte, aU
toenn fiebenunbbrei^ig .ffiid^tein na^ fÇutter ^liejjen 6tne§ îageg brang ber ©(^iiïer
„?lfmu§ ®emper" fo toeit bot, bag bet Seï)tet tief : „3unge, bu fttc^ft mii^ ja mit bem
ginget in bie 5îafe 1" 9lber et butfte bie 5tnttD0tt geben, unb aï§ et fetne SSruft etlei(ï)tett
l^atte, tutnte et iibet 2ifc^ unb S3ante unb iibet bte ^ôpfe bet onbeven sutiicï nac^ bet teljten
Sauf ^inten an bet 2Banb.
Dtto gtnft. — 5lul ,,?tfmu§ @empet§ ^ugenbïanb".
Version anglaise.
The ENGLISHMAN AS JUDGED BY AN AMERICAN.
The Englishman has accurate perceptions ; takes hold of things by the right end, and
there is no slipperiness in bis grasp. He loves the axe, the spade, the oar, the gun, the
steani-pipe ; he has built the engine he uses. He is materialist, economical, mercantile.
He must be treated Avith sincerity and reality, with mufflns, and not the promise of
muffins... VVhen he is intellectual, and a poet or a philosopher, he cardes the same
hard truth and the same keen machinery into the mental sphère. His mind must
stand on a fact. He will not be baffled, or catch at clouds, but the mind must hâve a
symbol palpable and resisting. . . The Saxon materialism and narrowness, exalted into
1. Nos lecteurs trouveront les corrig-^s de ces épreuves dans le no du 5 octobre 1908.
2. Cbet ein 5Jîobc^en.
l80 SUPPLÉMENT [910]
the sphère of intellect, makes Ihe very genius of Shakespeare and Milton. When it
reaches the pure élément, it treads the clouds as securely as the adamant. Even in its
élévations, materialistic, its poetry is common sensé inspired ; or iron raised to white
heat.
R. W. Emerson.
Version espagnole.
Dona Paca noadinitia razonamientos, por juiciosos que fuesen. No pocas veces Benina,
inocente, tuvo que declararse culpable de las faltas que la senora le imputaba, porque,
haciendolo asi, se calmaba m.'is pronlo.
«;. Ves cômo tengo razôn ? — proseguia la senora, que cuando se ponîa en tal estado,
era de lo mâs insoportable que imaginarse puede. — Te callas. .. quien calla, otorga.
Lu ego es cierto loque yo digo; yo siempre estoy al tanto... Résulta lo que pensé : que
no has subido ;'i casa de Obdulia, ni ese es el caniino. Sabe Dios dônde habràs estado
de pingo. Pero no te dé cuidado, que yo lo averiguaré... Tenerme aqui sola, muerta
de hambre ! jVaya una maûana que me has hecho pasar ! He perdido la cuenta de los
que han venido à cobrar piquillos de las tiendas, cantidades que no se han pagado ya
por tu desarreglo . . . Porque la verdad, yo no se doude echas ti'i el dinero... Responde
mujer... defiéndete siquiera, que si ;'i todo das la callada por respuesta, me parecen'i
que ai'in te digo poco ».
PÉREz Gald('is (Misericordia).
Version italienne.
Non da altr'originale, che da queste Latine Favole, trasse il Volgarizzamento, che ora
si pubblica, un buon Toscano nel secolo quattordicesimo ; il quale, nulla curando di
darsi a conoscere, s'appagôd'aver fatto lavoro che utilità e piacere agli amatori del buono
e del bello recasse. Ch'egli uomo fosse d'una qualche Regola, ce lo fanno congetturare
le spiegazioni morali che aile favole appose ; nelle quali di materie spirituali e fralesche
soventemente, e talvolta ancora pcr sua voglia soltanto, si fa a ragionare; e se pure ad
iscoprire quai istituto egli professasse, nella mancanza di chiari cenni, a' dubbiosi ap-
poggiar ci volessimo, Francescano mi pare che avremmo a tenerlo ; perciocchè nella
favola quattordicesima all'occasione di nominare Ordini regolari, il Francescano mette
nel parimo posto, ne facil cosa è che una tal preferenza ad altr'Ordine, che al suo, ac-
cordare volesse.
Quanto poi s'appartiene alla palria, ci conviene similmente rimaner all'oscuro. Vera
cosa è che nella trentesima seconda favola è costretta la pecora a promettere al lupo
d'andare a far denari al mercato di Ripomerancie, e si fa poi che venda ogni sua mas-
serizia ad un suo vicino di Berignone, e se ne vada a stare a Mazolla ; e questi tre Cas-
telli nel Contado di Volterra trovandosi posti, ne nasce da cio un qualche sospetto che
di quelle parti l'autore si fosse.
DEVOIRS CORRIGÉS
1. Die Apparate, welclie dazu dienen, unsere Wohnungen zu heizen sind die Ôfen,
Kaminufen, Luftheizungsapparate, Apparate zur Heilnvasserheizung, usw.
2. Die hauptsiichlichsten Brennmaterialien sind Holz, Holzkohle, Steinkohle.
3. Man zûndet gewuhnlich das Feiier mit Ziindhiilzern an.
ti. Mit dem Feuer heizt man die Wohnungen, kocht man die Speisen, bearbeitet
man zahlreiche Metalle, treibt man, mittelst des Dampfes gewaltige Maschinen, Loko-
motiven, usw.
Voir les textes dans les n"* des 5 février et 5 avril ic
[911] SUPPLÉMENT 151
5. Ist man unvorsichtig, so kann man ein llaus in Brand stecken und ailes zerstoren.
6. Ein Vulkan ist ein feuerspeiender Berg.
(C. É. P. S., Asp^'^', Paris, ^'« session 1906.)
1 . John AAakes up at six o'clock. In haste John gets up eut of bed. John washes liim-
self. John puts on his clolhes. John combs his hair, and brushes it.
2. Look at that poor lame man ! Pity that blind boy! Polyphemus, the giant, was
one-eyed. It is dreadfui to be deaf ; but it is worse to be deaf and dumb.
3. Summer ought to be the hottest time of the year. It is then that most flowers are
seen. The flowers are more gorgeous than the sweet ones of spring. Some people
become idle and languid in the sommer heat. The corn now ripens for the harvest.
It is in summer that fortunate people take their holidays.
(C. É. P. S., Asp'% Poitiers, 2" session 1901.)
BIBLIOGRAPHIE
Récentes publications en Italie.
Dans ces derniers mois la production littéraire en Italie a été abondante, et elle a
donné quelques œuvres remarquables. Voici d'abord trois livres excellents pour ceux
qui aiment les ouvrages sérieux : / inartiri di Belfiore de A. Luzio (a» édition), œuvre
historique qui en des pages fort dramatiques retrace la conjuration et le supplice de
Tito Speri et de ses héroïques compagnons ; — Ricordi e A/fetti de A. D'Ancona,
recueil de portraits et de souvenirs relatifs à la génération qui nous a précédés, nobles
pages dignes à tous égards du vieillard illustre qui les a écrites ; — Viaggiando in vari
paesi e in vari tempi, de My Bonomelli, livre riche d'observations profondes, avec un
sens très fin de la nature et une vivacité de description tout-à-fait captivante.
En passant au roman, voici tout d'abord deux noms illustres: Grazia Deledda et G.
Pirandello. G. Deledda, qui s'est rendue célèbre par ses romans sardes, ajoute un
nouveau fleuron à sa couronne avec Edera, une page triste et grandiose de la vie de la
Sardaigne, si poignante, avec sa misère, son fatalisme farouche, dans le cadre de ce
paysage insulaire si pittoresque en son abandon. Pirandello, avec VEschisa nous raconte
une histoire touchante, où, selon son habitude, il mêle le sens le plus dramatique et
souvent le plus amer de la vie, avec ce que l'humour a de plus fin et de plus divertis-
sant.
Parmi les meilleurs romans récemment parus, notons encore : Le ullime Vestali de
JoLANDA, œuvre de propagande enflammée du féminisme ; I Montaldo d' E. Gastelnuovo,
un auteur dont la renommée n'est plus à faire, rAmore di Loredana, de L. Zuccoli,
qu'un critique a défini « un cas d'amour sentimental dans une atmosphère ironi-
que », il Violinista de F. Pastonchi.
Très abondants furent comme toujours les recueils de nouvelles. Plusieurs de ces
recueils ont un caractère tout-à-fait local, ce qui prouve que les Italiens commencent
à s'étudier eux-mêmes au lieu de copier les romans parisiens, allemands ou Scandina-
ves. Parmi ces nouvelles provinciales, nommons les Novelle maremmane d'A. Palmieri, et
les Novelle calabresi de Clelia Pellicano, ces dernières surtout toutes empreintes de
couleur locale, reflétant la vie de cette Calabre si belle et si désolée, où les usages et
les mœurs sont restés arriérés de plusieurs siècles.
C'est dans la vie journalière des petites gens, dans cette vie morne et sans grandeur
faite de misères et de jouissances mesquines que puisent leur inspiration Massimo
Bontempelli et Carola Prosperi, le premier avec un livre riche d'ironie et d'humour qui
a pour cadre le monde des professeurs {Sacrale moderno) la seconde — une toute jeune
débutante — avec un volume, la Profezia, si vigoureux et si empreint de réalité qu'il
a placé tout de suite son auteur au premier rang. Citons enfin / racconti di Natale
d'HAYDÉE, une autre femme écrivain déjà connue dans le monde des lettres ; ce sont des
nouvelles exquises qui se lisent d'un bout à l'autre avec le plus vif intérêt.
152 SUPPLÉMENT [912]
Finalement voici trois livres que je désire signaler d'une façon toute particulière aux
lecteurs des Cinq Langues. C'est d'abord Novelle e Bozzetti di autori italiani viventi pubbli-
catida G. Finzi, un recueil excellent d'écrits presque tous inédits dûs à la plume de nos
meilleurs écrivains : Fogazzaro, Fucini, Abba, Cordelia, Marchesa, Colombi, etc. L'au-
torité des auteurs et l'heureux choix des morceaux a naturellement assuré au livre un
grand succès et peu de jours après la publication il en était déjà au 3^ mille.
A côté de celivredeprose il faut placer un livre de poésie : Le cento migliori Hriche délia
lingua iialiana scelle da L. Ricci, publié à Londres.
L'autre livre que je recommande à mes jeunes lecteurs est un livre d'enfants, mais
de ceux que les grands aussi peuvent lire avec plaisir tant il est vif et gracieux : 7 no-
stri hirichini de Giulia Peyretti.
B. Allason-VVice.
Turin i5 juin 1908.
Pierre Halary. — Du Vallon au Sommet. — Poèmes. — Eros. — Gravures et
Fusains. — Le Drame intérieur. — Hardiesses. — Traductions. (Vol. in- 18
Jésus. Paris, 1908, Lemerre. Prix : 3 fr.)
M.Pierre Halary n'est pas un inconnu pour nos lecteurs. Us ont eu l'occasion d'appré-
cier son talent de traducteur. Nous avons donné de lui — nous en donnerons encore
— plusieurs traductions en vers également remarquables par leur élégance et par leur
fidélité. Le volume que M. Halary ofTre au public renferme bien quelques traductions
de l'italien et de l'allemand et elles se recommandent par les mêmes mérites. Mais elles
sont rejetées à la fin du livre et se cachent timidement derrière les productions person-
nelles du poète. En une langue ample, riche et harmonieuse, M. Pierre Halary chante
le génie de Léonard de Vinci, les terreurs de l'An Mille et l'héroïque épopée de Mont-
calm au Canada. H y a des accents puissants, de beaux élans, une inspiration sincère
et généreuse dans les Poèmes dont le caractère est à la fois épique et lyrique. La note
personnelle et passionnelle domine dans les cycles de poésies intitulés Eros et le Drame
Intérieur. Il y a une grande finesse de touche et une rare netteté de contours dans les
Gravures et Fusains. Les Hardiesses, hardies surtout par leur dédain de la rime, sont
pleines de fièvre, de rêve et de poésie. Elles formeraient le cycle le plus brillant du
livre si l'auteur avait consenti à n'être point « hardi », à ne pas se suicider, à ne
pas renoncer à la salutaire contrainte du rythme et de la rime. Cette réserve faite,
souhaitons au poète de nouvelles inspirations qui ne manqueront pas de réaliser les
riches promesses de ce volume. Citons pour terminer une des plus jolies poésies du
livre :
LA PARESSE
Couché nonchalamment sur un divan moelleux
Ali, se reposant du repos de la veille,
Applique son esprit à la rare merveille
De voir du narghileh monter des flocons bleus.
H vient des minarets, du port, des flots houleux
Où se baigne Stamboul un bruit d'ailes d'abeille ; h
Les rumeurs du travail le bercent ; il sommeille, g
L'été, dans les coussins pelotonné, frileux. S
Au vol de l'éventail qu'un négrillon balance, ^
Ondulent des parfums sur sa molle indolence §
Pour l'emplir de torpeur quand il s éveillera. .fe
Mais dans un cauchemar apparaît, prochain terme, jj
Sa ruine I II se voit portefaix à Péra,
Sursaute, ouvre des yeux hagards... et les referme.
Bar-le-Duc. — Imprimerie Comte-Jacquel, FACDouEL,Dir.
Les Cinq Langues
N» 20. 20 Juillet 1908. 8' Ancée.
SUPPLÉMENT
COURS A L'USAGE DES ÉTRA^^GERS ET COURS
DE VACANCES*
Université de Besançon.
L'Universilé de Besançon a institué depuis plusieurs années, sous la direction
de M. Vandaele, des cours de français destinés aux étudiants étrangers. Cet
enseignement comprend cette année des cours de vacances (du i" juillet au
i"" novembre) et des cours durant toute l'année scolaire (du lo novembre au
3o juin). Les étudiants étrangers empêchés de résider en France pendant
l'année scolaire peuvent, moyennant un droit annuel de 20 fr., se faire imma-
triculer à la Faculté des Lettres à titre de Correspondants. En cette qualité, ils
recevront régulièrement des sujets de devoirs que les professeurs leur
renverront corrigés et annotés.
Les étudiants qui auront suivi les cours de vacances pendant 3 mois en une
ou plusieurs fois, ou les cours de l'année scolaire pendant 4 mois, pourront
obtenir, après examen, le certificat d'études françaises institué par l'Université.
Pour les cours de vacances la rétribution est fixée k 4o Ir. pour un mois,
5o fr. pour deux mois, 60 fr. pour trois mois et 65 fr. pour quatre mois.
Le prix moyen d'une pension dans les familles est de 120 à i/i5fr. jîar mois.
Toutes les demandes de renseignements doivent être adressées k M. le
Professeur Thibaut, à l'Université de Besançon, qui se fera un plaisir d'envoyer
gratuitement à toutes les personnes qui la lui demanderont l'élégante brochure
publiée par le Comité de patronage des étudiants étrangers.
Université de Dijon.
Le Comité dijonnais de patronage des étudiants étrangers a publié un opus-
cule donnant tous les renseignements désirables sur les avantages d'un séjour
à Dijon. Le coût des pensions de famille est de 100 à 120 francs par mois.
L'enseignement spécial du français pour les étrangers (prix : aS fr. par
semestre) comprend l'étude méthodique de la langue française, la lecture et
l'explication de textes, des compositions écrites, des conférences de phonéti-
que, de littérature française et d'histoire de la France contemporaine. Le prix
des inscriptions pour les cours de Aacances est fixé ainsi :
Pour un mois, 3o fr. | Pour deux mois, 5o fr.
Pour six semaines, Ao fr. | Pour 3 ou 4 mois, 60 fr.
Ces cours, dont les dispositions générales ne ditlèrent pas sensiblement de
celles des institutions déjà étudiées, commencent le i"' juillet et finissent le
3i octobre. S'adresser pour tous renseignements à M. le Professeur Lambert,
10, rue Berbisey, à Dijon.
* Voir le Supplément du 5 juillet.
[120] SLTPL. 20
154 SUPPLÉ.MKNT I974J
Université de Rennes.
Par arrêté ministériel, il a été institué à l'Université de Rennes des cours spé-
cialement destinés aux étudiants étrangers. Ces cours ont lieu pendant deux
trimestres :
I» Trimestre d hiver, du i5 novembre au i5 février (avec une semaine de
vacances au jour de TAn) ;
2° Trimestre d'été, du i"' mars au 8 juin (avec deux semaines de vacances à
Pâques).
Le programme des cours, extrêmement varié, est de nature à donner satis-
faction aux exigences les plus difficiles. L'Université de Rennes délivre aux
étrangers ayant suivi ses cours, et après examen, soit le diplôme de langue
française, soit le diplôme de langue et littérature françaises, soit enfin le
diplôme de docteur,
M. Feuillerat, professeur à la Faculté des Lettres de Rennes, se tient à la dis-
position des étudiants étrangers.
Cours de Caen.
Les cours de Caen sont les premiers en date de tous les coins de vacances
établis en France pour les étudiants étrangers. Ils remontent à l'année 1890
et sont dus à l'initiative de M. le Professeur Spencer, L'association anglaise
Teachers' Guild les prit sous sa direction dès l'année suivante et organisa bien-
tôt sur leur modèle des cours de vacances en Allemagne et en Espagne. En
1906 fut décidée la création d'un cours annexe au bord de la mer, à Riva-
Bella.
Les cours de Caen sont permanents; l'enseignement est donné par des
professeurs agrégés de l'Université. Les étudiants sont réunis par groupes de
8 à 10 pour les exercices pratiques. Les cours de juillet et d'août sont organi-
sés de manière à permettre aux étudiants de tirer le plus grand profit de leur
séjour en France. Des bourses d'études sont accordées au concours pour les
cours du mois d'août. Enfin un service spécial de correction de devoirs et de
préparation par correspondance a été établi.
Les personnes qui désirent suivre les cours sont priées d'en informer M. le
Professeur E. Lkbonnois, 16, rue Guilbcrt, à Caen, ou
M. W. RoBiNs, Lyme Ilouse, Grove Ilill, S. VVoodford (Essex),
M. FiNLAYsoN, High School, Girvan (Scotland),
M"e G. Luther, Ilohenstaufenstr., 68, Berlin W. 3o,
M. F. Weisse, Ilamar (Norvège).
Cours de Lisieux, Bayeux et Granville.
Ces cours ont été organisés sous le patronage de l'Alliance française. Ils pré-
sentent en général les mêmes avantages que ceux des Universités et convien-
nent peut-être mieux aux débutants.
Le prix des cours de vacances de Lisieux (loe année) est de /i5 fr. Ecrire à
M. Féquet, 12, rue de Rouen, à Lisieux.
Les cours de Baveux et de Granville sont surtout fréquentés par des étudiants
anglais. Ils sont faits par les professeurs du collège de Bayeux sous la dii'ec-
tion de M. P. -A. Godal, professeur. Un opuscule en anglais donnant tous les
renseignements désirables sur les cours, les examens, les excursions, les distrac-
tions, etc. est adressé à toutes les personnes qui en font la demande.
[975] SUPPLÉMENT 155
COURS DE VAC4NCES A L'ÉTRANGER
Cours de vacances eu Allemagne.
Des cours de vacances pour les professeurs ont lieu à léna du 5 au i8 août. Des
conférences seront faites sur l'histoire de la pédagogie, les sciences naturelles,
l'économie politique, l'hygiène de l'école, etc. A Marburg sur la Lahn, des
cours de vacances en !\ langues (allemand, anglais, français, italien) sont orga-
nisés avec l'assistance de professeurs français en juillet et août. S'adresser pour
tous renseignements à M. A. Cocker, Schwanallee 48, Marburg an der Lahn.
L'Association des Instituteurs et des Institutrices du grand-duché de Bade
{Badischer Lehrerverein, Verein badischer Lehrerinnen) oi'ganise aussi cette
année, pour la première fois, croyons-nous, des cours de vacances à l'usage des
professeurs et des étudiants. Les conférences porteront sur la langue et la litté-
rature allemandes, sur l'histoire de la civilisation allemande, etc. Le prix, de
l'inscription est de aS marks. S'adresser à M"° E. Haack, llaupllehrerin,
Rahmengasse 20, Heidelberg.
Cours de vacances à Zug Suisse).
Les professeurs du lycée de Zug et de l'école industrielle de cette ville inau-
gurent du 3 au 29 août prochain des cours de vacances à l'usage des professeurs
d'allemand de nationalité française, italienne ou anglaise et des élèves des lycées
et Universités, désireux de se perfectionner dans la pratique de la langue alle-
mande. Le i^rogramme comprend 20 heures de leçons par semaine (12 heures
de grammaire, phonétique, prononciation, coi-respondance commerciale, etc.,
8 heures de littérature, d'histoire de la civilisation, etc.). Les auditeurs seront
divisés en groupes. Les cours seront faits le matin. Le prix de l'inscription est
de 3o francs. S'adresser pour tous renseignements à M. le Prof. G. Hug, à Zug.
Cours de vacances et Cours annuels en Espagne.
Nous avons reçu la circulaire suivante ([ue nous recommandons tout particulièrement
à l'attention de nos lecteurs :
UniversUé de Toulouse. — Union des Éludianls français en Espagne.
L'Université de Toulouse, avec la collaboration d'autres Universités françaises,
a organisé en Espagne, à l'usage des étudiants des trois ordres d'enseignement,
ainsi que de toutes les personnes désireuses de se perfectionner dans la connais-
sance pratique de la langue, de la littérature, des arts et de la civilisation de
l'Espagne, des cours gratuits dans la forme suivante :
A. — A Burgos. — Cours de vacances, du 5 août au 21 septembre. Ils com-
prendront : i" un cours de grammaire pratique, étude du vocabulaire, conver-
sation, exercices de traduction et d'improvisation ; 2° un cours sur l'histoire ;
3° un cours sur la civilisation, l'art de l'Espagne ; \° des conférences sur des
sujets divers ; 5° des visites aux monuments de la ville ou excursions aux envi-
rons {Chartreuse deMiraJlores, Sanlo Domingo de Silos, Briviesca,San Pedro de
Çardtha, etc.).
Les cours auront lieu à ÏInslilulo (/encrai y técnico (Lycée). Us seront faits par
D. Rodrigo de Seb.\stiXn, jîrofesseur et vice-directeur de l'Institut ; D. José
S.\RMiEisTO, administrateur de l'Hôpital militaire (Grammaire et Philologie) ;
D. Eloy G.\rci.\ DE QtiEVEDO, profcsscur à l'Institut (Histoire et civilisation de
l'Espagne); D. A^selmo SalvÀ, directeur des Archives de la Ville (Histoire
de l'Art). — Les excursions seront dirigées par les personnes et les spécialistes
les plus compétents.
B. — A Madrid. — Un cours annuel sera organisé si le nombre des ins-
156 SUPPLÉMENT [976J
criplions le permet. En attendant, un cours, déjà inauguré cette année, a lieu
pendant les mois d'avril et de mai. Il comprend : lo des Conférences à VUni-
versilc, plus spécialement en vue de l'Agrégation et de la Licence (Professeur,
D. Ramon Menéndez Pidal) ; 2° au Museo Pedagôgico, trois Conférences par
semaine, de grammaire et exercices pratiques : deux Conférences par semaine,
d'histoire littéraire et civilisation de l'Espagne (Professeur, D. Amékico Castuo) ;
3° des visites aux Archives, Bibliothèques, Musées, Collections, et des exclusions
aux environs (Tolède, Escorial, Alcalâ, etc.).
Des Certificats d'Étude seront délivrés, à Burgos et à Madrid, aux personnes
qui auront régulièrement suivi les cours.
S'adresser, pour les inscriptions, à M. le Professeur Mérimée, Directeur de
l'Union des Etudiants, Université de Toulouse.
A Burgos, à D. Feh.naisdo diez Severim, Secretario de la Union de Estudiantes
franceses, Instituto de Burgos.
A Madrid, à D. Domingo Barnés, Secretario de la Union de Estudiantes fran-
ceses, Museo Pedagôgico, Daoiz, 7.
N. B. — MM. les Secrétaires de Burgos et de Madrid ont biea voulu se charger de donner,
par corres[)oudancc ou sur place, tous les reuseignemeals d'ordre matériel sur rinstallation,
les logemeals, les horaires de cours, elc. 11 sutfit de leur écrire directement aux adresses ci-
dessus.
Tous les Cours et Conférences sont gratuits pour les Français. Les étrangers qui en fei'ont
la demande seront admis, moyenuaut une somme de 50 francs, dans l'une ou l'autre section.
Les frais d'excursion restent à la charge des excursionnistes.
Institut français de Florence.
L'Institut français de Florence, fondation de l'Université de Grenoble, est
destiné à servir d'intermédiaire entre les milieux intellectuels de France et
d'Italie, à faciliter les relations scientifiques et littéraires entre les deux nations.
Il est placé sous le patronage d'un Comité d'honneur, composé des plus hautes
personnalités des lettres, des arts et de l'enseignement en Italie et en France.
II se divise en quatre sections :
La première (littérature italienne) est une école d'application pour les Fran-
çais qui étudient la langue et la littérature italiennes. Elle est aussi une école
de perfectionnement pour ceux qui, ayant achevé leurs études, se proposent
d'écrire des ouvrages d'histoire et de critique littéraire. On s'efforcera de
faciliter aux étudiants la connaissance non seulement de la littérature, mais
aussi de la civilisation et des mœurs italiennes.
La deuxième section s'occupe tout particulièrement de l'histoire de l'art.
La troisième section de l'Institut, ou Section des Lettres françaises, com-
prend un enseignement varié de langue et de littérature françaises, destiné au
public llorentin, et fait par des professeurs français, anciens élèves des Uni-
versités, diplômés en lettres françaises et en lettres italiennes.
Le caractère de ces cours est essentiellement pratique. Ils consistent surtout
en lectures et traductions orales (faites par le professeur et les élèves, avec ex-
plications grammaticales, littéraires et historiques, données par le professeur)
et en exercices de conversation. Afin que le professeur puisse suivre de près
chaque élève dans son travail, le nombre des élèves ne pourra pas dépasser aS ;
au delà de ce chiffre le cours sera dédoublé.
Les cours dureront ordinairement six mois, du i'''' décembre au 3i mai. Ils
auront lieu au siège de l'Institut français, au Palais Fenzi, 10, Via San Gallo,
1*"' étage. Les élèves de ces cours auront accès à la Bibliothèque française
qui sera installée prochainement au siège de l'Institut. Les droits d'inscription
sont fixés uniformément pour chaque cours à 12 francs par mois.
La quatrième section (Office des relations scientifiques et littéraires entre
l'Italie et la Fiance) s'occui^e de l'échange intellectuel entre les deux nations
sœurs. Elle se charge des recherches d'un caractère scientifique, des enquêtes,
elc.
[9771 SUPPLÉMEM' 157
ÉCH4INGE D'ASSISTANTES
Règlement relatif à l'échange d'assistantes allemandes
et françaises
pour l'enseù/nement des langues vivantes dans les établissements
d'enseignement secondaire de jeunes filles.
— Du 18 mai. —
Afin d'entourer des garanties nécessaires l'échange d'assistantes allemandes
et françaises pour les établissements secondaires de jeunes filles des deux pays,
le Ministère des Cultes, de l'Instruction publique et des Affaires médicales de
Prusse et le Ministère français de l'Instruction publique et des Beaux Arts ont
convenu ce qui suit :
I
1. Les écoles secondaires de jeunes filles de Prusse offrent de recevoir un
certain nombre de jeunes maîtresses françaises qui seront chargées des exer-
cices pratiques de conversation fiançaise avec les élèves, conformément au
règlement du Ministère de Prusse, en date du 27 mars igoô.
Le nombre des candidates françaises à admettre dans les écoles de Prusse est
fixé selon les demandes des chefs d'école.
De même les lycées, collèges et cours secondaires de jeunes filles en France
admettront des jeunes maîtresses de Prusse, qui seront chargées des exercices
pratiques de conversation allemande, conformément à la circulaire du i5 février
1904, complétée par la circulaire du 16 novembre 1906.
2. Les assistantes françaises devront, en règle générale, avoir subi les exa-
mens qui confèrent la capacité d'enseigner dans des écoles où est enseignée au
moins une langue étrangère.
Les assistantes prussiennes devront avoir subi l'examen conférant la capacité
d'enseigner dans les écoles moyennes et supérieures de jeunes filles.
Les assistantes devront posséder les éléments de la langue allemande ou fran-
çaise respectivement.
3. Les assistantes françaises et prussiennes entrent en fonctions, en règle
générale, au mois d'octobre. En cas de besoin, des nominations pourront être
faites le 1"='' janvier ou à la rentrée de Pâques. Toutes les assistantes s'engagent
d'avance pour six mois au moins. Un engagement pour moins de six mois ne
sera admis que dans des cas exceptionnels, sur la demande d'un directeur ou
d'une directrice d'école. Une assistante ayant donné satisfaction ijeut être
maintenue pour une nouvelle période, si la direction de l'école où elle a exercé
en exprime le désir.
4. Les assistantes françaises recevront une indemnité de subsistance dc'iio
marks (187 fr. 00) par mois. Les vacances comprises entre leur entrée en
fonctions et leur départ définitif sont payées comme les mois d'exercice effectif.
Les assistantes prussiennes sont reçues dans des écoles françaises au pair,
c'est-à-dire qu'elles auront une chambre convenable et prendront leurs repas
soit à part, soit à la table des professeurs, selon leur désir ; le chauffage, le
blanchissage (sauf pour le linge de corps) et l'éclairage leur seront fournis. En
cas d'externement, il leur sera alloué une indemnité suffisante de logement
et de nourriture, calculée selon les conditions locales.
5. Les assistantes, de part et d'autre, sont placées sous l'autorité directe du
chef de l'établissement (directeur ou directrice).
Leur service journalier ne dépassera pas deux heures.
Elles ne peuvent, sous aucun prétexte, être chargées d'une classe ordinaire
du plan d'études ou de la surveillance des élèves. La nature de leur travail est
158 SUPPLÉMENT [978|
déterminée : en Prusse, par le règlement du 27 mars igoô ; en France, par les
instructions du i5 février 1904 et par la circulaire ministérielle du 16 novem-
bre 1906.
6. Les assistantes sont autoiùsées à suivre tous les cours de l'établissement
qui i^ourront leur être utiles.
MM. les directeurs et M.^'^" les directrices leur fourniront, en outre, toutes
les occasions désirables de se perfectionner dans la langue du pays.
Il
1. Toute la correspondance relative à l'institution des assistantes se fait
exclusivement entre le fonctionnaire que le ÏMinistère de Prusse désignera à
cet efl'et (68, Wilhelm Strasse, Berlin W, 64) et l'Office d'Informations et d'étu-
des au ^Ministère de l'Instruction publique et des Beaux-Arts à Paris (Musée
pédagogique, rue Gay-Lussac, no /Ji).
2. Les listes de candidates préparées de part et d'autre seront échangées entre
les deux bureaux aux dates suivantes : avant le 10 février pour la rentrée
d'avril, avant le 10 août pour la rentrée d'octobre (ou du 1'='' janvier).
3. Ces listes comporteront : nom et prénom de chaque candidate, date et
lieu de naissance, confession, énumération des diplômes et titres, adresse per-
sonnelle, vœux et désir des candidates au sujet de la région où elles désirent
être placées.
4. ^ ers le 10 mars ou le 10 septembre respectivement, les bureaux se com-
muniqueront l'atlribulion des candidates aux diverses écoles. Chaque bureau
fera connaître aux assistantes de son pays la date à laquelle elles devront rejoin-
dre leur poste.
5. Les bureaux se communiquent directement toutes les observations que les
candidates, ainsi que les directeurs ou directrices, croient devoir formuler sur
le séjour, le service, la conduite, etc. des assistantes.
6. Un certificat sera délivré aux candidates, à la fln de leur séjour, par le
directeur ou la directrice de l'école où elles auront exercé.
Ce certificat mentionnera la durée du séjour et la façon dont l'assistante s'est
acquittée de ses fonctions.
7. Les candidates s'engagent à ne rien publier sur les établissements où elles
ont séjourné, sans l'autorisation des bureaux des deux pays.
Le Ministre de V Instruclion publique
et des Beaux-Arts,
Gaston DOUMERGUE.
CENTRE PÉDAGOGIQUE INTERNATIONAL
Nous avons déjà eu l'occasion d'entretenir nos lecteurs du i3rojet humani-
taire d'un publicisle allemand, M. Ivurmg, de Heilbronn. Depuis 1904
M. Kurnig réclame l'institution d'un centre pédagogique international, c'est-
à-dire d'un congrès d'éducateurs, de pédagogues désignés par les gouverne-
ments des différents Etats en vue de s'entendre sur les moyens de donner à
l'enseignement dans les pays civilisés un caractère franchement pacifique. Poui'
n'être pas neuve, l'idée n'en est pas moins généreuse et digne de l'approbation
de tous ceux qui pensent. M. kurnig l'a peut-être défendue avec plus de cha-
leur que de clarté, ce qui ne l'a pas empêché de trouver dans toute l'Europe,
voire même hors d'Europe, de nombreux adeptes. Chose curieuse, presque
inexplicable, il a été l'objet d'attaques véhémentes dans le pajs même qui a le
[979] SUPPLÉMENT 159
mieux accueilli son initialiAe, c'est-à-dire en France. On s'est mépris, sans
aucun doute, sur les sentiments de M. Kurnig, dont le langage a parfois trahi
la pensée. Ou nous nous trompons fort, ou M. Kurnig n'est ni cosmopolite, ni
révolutionnaire ; il ne se propose pas, au demeurant, d'imposer à autrui ses
opinions politiques, religieuses et philosophiques. Son seul tort est d'en parler
de temps en temps sans nécessité. Ce qu'il rêve, c'est d'asseoir la paix du
monde sur des bases pins solides que la crainte du plus fort. Et sa critique
s'exerce aussi vigoureusement contre les ouvrages ultra-chauvins de l'Allema-
gne que contre les livres du même genre, infiniment moins nombreux d'ail-
leurs, qui se publient en France. Ce qui prouve que les idées de M. Kurnig
ne sont pas de nature à offenser certaines susceptibilités nationales, c'est la
quantité d'adhésions cjui lui sont parvenues de tous côtés : des éducateurs,
des prêtres, des écrivains, des officiers, des industriels lui ont envoyé de
partout le témoignage de leur sympathie. Et l'œuvre qu'il a entreprise, dùt-
elle rester, pour de longues années encore, à l'état de projet, n'en est pas moins
digne de l'attention de tous les éducateurs sérieux.
E.-II. B.
EXAMENS D'ITALIE
Esami di abilitazione aU'Insegnamento délie Lingue
straniere (anno 1906-1907).
Composition en langue anglaise '.
1° Alone I \
2" Snowfall.
Composition en langue française'.
1° Tant va la cruche à l'eau qu'à la fin elle se brise.
2° Mes premiers jours à l'école. Souvenirs d'enfance.
Composition en langue allemande'.
1" Was der Mensch siiet, das wird er èrnten.
2° Der Allerheiligentag.
Composition en langue espagnole'.
lo Nadie mas feliz que el que hace â olro dichoso.
2» Nevada.
Version commune.
A. G. Piacentini. — Lucca.
MlO CARO GlOVANNlNO,
Mi dispiacque di non averti veduto prima che tu partissi per Lucca, perché desiderata
d'abbracciarti e di dirti alcune cose le quali è bene che sieno sapute da un fanciullo
délia tua indole, quando è per entrare in un luogo di educazione.
Ouello che non ti potei dire allora penso di scrivertelo adesso, e spero che avrai care
le parole di uno al quale hai dimostrato tanta aiîezione. Avverli bene, ch'io non pré-
sume con queslo di mettermi nel poste dei tuoi parenti o di quelli che debbono invi-
gilarli cosli, ma solamenle intendo d'unirmi a loro per animarti sempre pii'i suUa via
del buono e del vero.
Prima di lulto. conosci i béni che possiedi accié tu pessa apprezzarli, per esserne
grato a Dio che te gli ha conceduti, e finalmenle farne l'uso che devi.
Tu sel buono ; hai la mente sveglia e bene avviata ; sei favorite dalla fortuna in
mode, da non aver bisogno dei fruUi dell'ingegne per sostentare la vita.
Oltre a queste cose pregiabilissime, ne hai una pii'i pregiabile di tulte ; che è quella
d'apparlenere a persone che t'amano veramente, e che farranno tulte per le. Questo bene
I. Le candidat a le choix entre les deux sujets.
160 SUPPLÉMENT [980]
lo conoscerai davvero quando avrai gli anni clie ho io, cioé quando saprai per prova
in quanti pochi possiamo fidarci.
Per ora non te ne parlo, e lascio da parte anclie l'altro d'esser nato in buona condi-
zione, cosa da valutarsi ma da non fondarci sopra il nostro benessere. — Ti parlerô
invece délia bontà, clie è vera ricchezza dell'animo e li dirô la mia opinione in quanto
al modo e allô scopo che ti devi prefiggere nel colti^are l'ingegno.
Forse Iroverai qui alcune cose superiori alla tua età ; colpa mia che mi sono inoltrato
in una via e poi non ci ho saputo camminare e venire al passo con te ; ma se vorrai
serbare questa letlera, quello che ti sarà superlluo ora, potrà gioAarti in seguito, se
mai la ritroverai un giorno tra i tuoi fogli e la rileggerai.
Altri comincerebbe dal raccomandarti lo studio, ed io comincio dal raccomandarti la
bontà e ti prego di custodirla nel cuore come un tesoro senza prezzo. La dotlrina spesso
è una vana suppellettile che poco ci serve agli usi délia vita, e délia quale per lo più
si fa pompa nei giorni di gala, come dei tappeli e délie posate dargento. Ma la bontà
è un utensile di prima nécessita, che dobhiamo aver tra mano ogni ora,ogni momento.
Senza uomini dotti, credilo pure, il mondo potrebbe andare innanzi benissimo ; senza
uomini buoni, ogni cosa sarebbe sovvertita.
Fino d'adesso pensa bambino mio, che i tuoi compagni d'educazione debbono essere i
tuoi compagni di tulla la tua vita. Stai pure a quello che li dico io che ne ho fatta
esperienza : doventati liberi di noi stessi si fanno nuove, moite e anco Iroppe cono-
scenze che vanno sotto il nome dell'amicizia, ma le più vere, le più dolci, quelle che
più ci si accostano al cuore, rimangono sempre le amicizie faite nella prima età coi
nosfri condiscepoli. — Gli animi dei giovanetti accomunati insieme per bramosia di
sapere, come dovete esser voi in codesto luogo, sono più disposti alla Aéra amicizia di
quelli (dirô cosi) accozzali dalla cupidità di godere ; e il santo amore délia scienza stringe
la mente delluonio d'un legame indissolubile a tutti quelli che con lui lo deside-
rano.
Inoltre, fino da questo momento e poi per tutto il tempo délia tua vita, avvicinati
talora a tutti gli uomini di lutte le età per conoscere cosa sono essi e cosa sei tu ; ma
nei rapporti délia dimestichezza, tienti sempre ai tuoi coetanei e guardati bene da
quella sciocca e il più délie volte ipocrita pedanleria, che piglia l'anima \ana di taluni,
di fare il vecchio prima d'avere le grinze ed i capelli blanchi.
Ama dunque i tuoi compagni, amali come ami te stesso. — Se vedi taluno di loro o
poco altento allô studio o poco disposto a inlendere, compatiscilo, aiutalo se puoi, e
sii sempre più grato alla natura che t'ha volulo privilegiare dei dono dell'ingegno e di
quello délia buona \olontà. Guardati dal godere dei castighi, guardati dal far osservare
ai Superiori le mancanze degli allri. Tutti si manca, tutti possiamo Irovarci nel caso di
meritare un castigo.
Ti sia sempre nella mente clie compiacersi déi mail dei nostri simili è crudeltà ; rile-
vârno i difetti è malignità : riporlare i fait! o i discorsi dell'amico per nuocergli è per-
fîdia : no no, lu non sarai ne maligno, ne perfido, ne crudele. Se vedrai taluni portait
o dalla loro cattivilà o da indole maie a>Aezza, cadere in questi pessimi vizi, ne vedrai
nello stesso tempo allri serbarsene esenti ; tu vai coi migliori, e da codesto piccolo
mondo impara a vivere fra gli uomini e a dislinguere i buoni dai catlivi.
Se i tuoi superiori, contenti di te, ti faranno conoscere daverli caro sopra gli altri
mostratene grato, ma non te ne insuperbire, non te ne approfittare mai per soverchiare
i compagni. Se poi vedi che altri sia accarezzato più di te, cerca di fare il tuo dovere
e di meritare altreltanlo, ma non invidiare mai nessuno. L'invidia, mio caro, è la pas-
sione più brutta, più tormentosa, più \ergognosa, che possa contaminare il cuore
dell'uomo. L'invidioso sentendosi turpe e meschino a petto gli allri, è inetto nel
tempo medesimo a togliersi di dosso e la turpitudine e la nieschinilà, vive in guerra
e in angoscia continua con se e con allri. Tu ora non bai e non puoi avère neU'animo
il germe di questi vizi nefandi, ma l'esempio di qualcuno potrebbe insinuarcelo ;
riguardatene per amore di te stesso, per amore dei tuoi ed anco per amor mio.
Quanto l'awenisse di cadere in qualche crrore, se questo tuo errore polesse nuocere
agli allri, confcssalo liberamenle anco senza esserne richiesto.
Avresli piacere di soffrire per cagione di un altro ? non permettere che altri soffra
per cagion tua ; e poi, chi confessa un errore ha già comincialo acorreggersene.
Questa cosa li coslerà suite prime, ma poi t'empirà l'animo di quella sodisfazione che
si prova a darci per quello che siamo, e a procedere con lealtà.
TABLE DES MATIÈRES
SUPPLÉMENT
I. — Enseignement, Pédagogie.
Pages.
De la valeur éducatrice de la littcralure allemande (E. -H. Blocii) .... 1,9
Les enfants arriérés ou anormaux aS
Enfants et livres (E.-H. B.) 33
Coupe et travaux à l'aiguille (P...) 4i
Ce que nous écrivons .(E.-H. B.: 49
Lesjeux des enfants (E.-H. B.) 67
A propos du « Souvenir» (E.-H.B.) 65
L'Enfant et le Théâtre 81
Une conférence à l'École des mères (M. -A. Bloch) 89
Comment on juge les Français en Amérique io5
Cours de vacances de Boulogne-sur-Mer 106
Cours de vacances de Kaiserslaulern ii3
L'étude de l'allemand dans les écoles secondaires anglaises E.-H. B.). . 121
Les a travaux manuels » dans les écoles d'Amérique 122
L'Enseignement doit-il être public ? (E.-H. B.) 129
Cours de vacances de l'Université de Londres i3o
Ecoles de Berlin et de Copenhague (E. IL B.) 187
Instituteurs allemands en Amérique i45
Cours à l'usage des étrangers et cours de vacances i46,i53
Cours de vacances à l'étranger i55
II. — Documents officiels.
Agrégation d'allemand. Modifications au programme 82
Nominations universitaires 4, 12, 18, 26, 34, 69, 74, 83, 99, ii4, i3i
Programmes et listes d'auteurs :
Agrégations 17
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement des langues vivantes dans les
écoles normales 97
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement secondaire des jeunes filles
(ordre des sciences) 17
Certificat d'aptitude au professorat des écoles normales 97
Règlement relatif à l'échange d'assistantes allemandes et françaises . . . 167
Résultats des concours de 1907 11
162 SUPPLÉMENT 1982.
III. — Examens et Concours (1907 .
Pages.
Administrateur stagiaire de l'inscription maritime (Concours pour l'em-
ploi d') i4i
Agrégation d'allemand 6o
Agrégation d'anglais 67
Agrégation d'espagnol ^5
Agrégation d'italien 83
Agrégation des jeunes filles . 107
Baccalauréat :
Latin-Langues vivantes , . , 20. 27, 35, 99, iio
Sciences-Langues vivantes 45, 5i, 62, 125, i33, 142
Latin-Langues et Sciences-Langues fsujets communs 6,12, 76
Bourses commerciales de séjour à l'étranger 116
Bourses industrielles de voyage à l'étranger 87
Brevet supérieur aS, 3i, 37, 47, 88, 119, i44
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement de l'allemand dans les lycées et
collèges loS
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement de l'anglais dans les lycées et
collèges ii5
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement de l'espagnol dans les lycées et
collèges 123
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement de l'italien dans les lycées et collèges i3i
CertiQcat d'aptitude à l'enseignement secondaire des jeunes filles. ... 85
Certificat d'aptitude à l'enseignement des langues nvantes dans les écoles
normales gS
Certificat d'aptitude au professorat commercial 139
Certificat d'aptitude au professorat des écoles normales 149
Certificat d'études primaires supérieures 8, 3o, 71, 100
Devoirs corrigés 8, 16, 23, 3i, 37,48, 54, 63, 69, 79, 88, 95, io3, 113,
119, 137, i35, i5o
Devoirs proposés 7, i^, 23, 3o, 37, 47, 56, 71, 88, io3, 119, i44
Examens d'Italie ; Esami di abilitazione ail' Insegnamento délie Lingue
stranicre iSg
Ecole navale (1908) 139
Ecoles normales supérieures de Sainl-Cloud et de Fontenay-aux-Roses. . 5
Ecole normale de Sèvres 44
Ecole du service de santé de la Marine 124
Ecole polytechnique (1908). i38
Ecole spéciale militaire de S'-Gyr (1908) . i38, i48
Ecole supérieure pratique de commerce et d'industrie de Paris (Sec-
tion de navigation maritime) 20
Elève-commissaire de la marine (Concours pour l'emploi d'} 68
IV. — Informations.
Réforme de la licence es lettres (mention : langues vivantes) 3
Informations diverses 5, 18, 2O, 34, 42, 59
Un cercle féminin international à Paris 66
Le « Polyglot Club » de Londres 73
Echos et nouvelles 74, 98, 107, ii3, i23
Correspondance q6
L'Espéranto au Japon ii4
Centre pédagogique international i58
[983] TABLE DES MATIÈRES 163
V. — Bibliographie.
Pages.
Angleterre (en). Fleurs printanières (Jacobsen) 120
E. Arnal : Vers les Sommets. Poésies 138
BûRGER : Die franzôsischen homonymen AVorter i44
Clive Holland : Au Japon (M. J.) io4
GuiRAUD : School Theatricals (E.-H. B.) 9G
Halary (P. I : Du Vallon au Sommet 182
Hébert : L'Education physique raisonnéc (E.-H. 13. 56
Italie (en). Les derniers livres parus. (B. All\son-Wick) 79
Italie (en). Récentes publications en Italie. B. Allason-Wick) i5i
Leblond : La dissertation philosophique au baccalauréat i3G
Livres d'automne (Jacobsen) 4o
LuccHETTi (Professeur Luigi) : Les images dans les œuvres de Victor Hugo 72
LuGiNÉ-Philipon : Short plays for the Schoolroom (E.-H. B.) 96
Modem Language Teaching ia8
Moderna Sprâk 112
0' CoNNOR et IIuGON : Lettres commerciales 112
Oestéren (W. van) : Der Weg ins Nichts (E.-H. B.) 72
Ôsterreichische Handelsschul-Zeitung 120
Trombert : Souvenirs d'Alsace 56
VoiGTi'Mein Kind Sa
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