. Old love stories retold. d it round her throatfascinated Heine with its grim suggestion ofblood. There had been his cousin Amalie, whosemarriage to another is said to have been the secretspring of sorrow by which Heines laughter wasfed. And there had been others, whose names— imaginary, maybe, in that they were doubtlessthe imaginary names of real women — arefamiliar to all readers of Heines poetry: Sera-phine, Angelique, Diane, Hortense, Clarisse,Emma, and so on. Hut she is loved best who is loved last; andwhen, after those months of delirious dissipationin Paris, which all too soon were to
. Old love stories retold. d it round her throatfascinated Heine with its grim suggestion ofblood. There had been his cousin Amalie, whosemarriage to another is said to have been the secretspring of sorrow by which Heines laughter wasfed. And there had been others, whose names— imaginary, maybe, in that they were doubtlessthe imaginary names of real women — arefamiliar to all readers of Heines poetry: Sera-phine, Angelique, Diane, Hortense, Clarisse,Emma, and so on. Hut she is loved best who is loved last; andwhen, after those months of delirious dissipationin Paris, which all too soon were to be so exor-bitantly paid for by years of suffering, Heine metMathilde, there is no doubt at all that Heine methis wife. His reminiscent fancy might senti-mentalize about his lost Amalie, but no one canread his letters, not so much to, as about, Mathildewithout realizing that he came as near to lovingher as a man of his temperament can come nearto loving any one. Though, to begin with, thev were not married[109] •?. Old Love Stories Retoldin the conventional sense, but kepthouse together in the fashion of theQuarter, there seems no question thatHeine was faithful to Mathilde — towhom in his letters to his friends he al-ways referred as his wife — and thattheir relation, in everything but name,was a true marriage. Just before hemet Mathilde, Heine had written to hisfriend and publisher, Campe, that hewas at last sick to death of the poorpleasures which had held him too believe, he writes, that my soul isat last purified of all its dross; hence-forth my verses will be the more beauti-ful, my books the more harmonious. Atall events, I know this — that at thepresent moment everything impure andvulgar fills me with positive disgust. It was at this moment, disgusted withthose common illusions miscalled pleas-ure, that Heine met Mathilde, and wasattracted by what one might call thefresh elementalism of her nature. That Heine and Mathilde his love began with that hue
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Keywords: ., bookauthorlegallie, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookyear1904
