HEINE STORIES.

Otago Witness, Issue 2298, 17 March 1898, Page 49

HEINE STORIES.

Memories of the Poet and His Wipe. Heine studies and stories have bean ia vogue for the past few week?, and a long series of •' Recollections " of the poet in the January number of Chapman's Magazine are rather timely. They are those of Madame C. Janbert, and they have been translated from the French by Mrs O. H. GordoD. Of course, they relate to the great writer's enmities as well as to hia affections, his sardonic play of fancy and humour, his appalling sufferings, and they are concerned also with his relations toward* his wife. Here and there these " Memories * leave, a sense of disaoßointmeiit. The diffi-

culty of putting the poetic Heine into English is well known ; the prose counterpart is also baflling. The notes devoted more directly to, Madame Heine do not illustrate this difficulty.

To a young woman, lively, loving pleasure as only a Parisian can, childless, and, owing to lack of education, without resource, the lif o Madame Hsine led was hard to bear, and one has only praise, says Madame Jauberr, for her conduct in relation to Henri Heine as husband and invalid. She had rarely the proud satisfaction of going out on his arm and of being seen in public with him. It is true she dragged him, before his complete retirement, to subscription concerts held in the Herz or Erard rooms. They gave her the chance c£ seeing and of being seen. I once met the couple afc this strange form of entertainment — a meeting which threw Heine into a state of amussd perplexity : he wished to pose aa a bachelor and yet not to desert bis wife. Added to that, music set his teeth on edge, snd he had the appearance of a devil in a holy-water vessel.

Pale women with regular features and phantom-like beauty particularly interested him ; and a face which wa3 strange, with something of tbe Sphynx in it, also attracted him. Of this latter sort was a celebrity who, ■under ths name of Queen Pomare, was much talked of for a time. Heine never wearied of discussing her; he lived on such love affairs.

The passion which killed hjm was inspired by the girl who became his wife : round and full of lace, with great dark eyes, a quantity of hair, and dazzling white teeth, set in a smilirg mouth ; plump in figuie ; a true type of Parisian seamstress, whose hands were of aristocratic- distinction, the sound of her voice was, for Henri Heine, a perpetual enchantment — he constantly referred to it ; several times during his long aaony he told me that her voice recalled his soul as it was actually taking flight towards the unknown.

" Sho has never read anything of mine," ha once said to me, lowering his voice confidentially ; " she doe° not know what a poet is! But I have discovered shehasavsgua idea that my name appears in some review, but " — 3peaking lower etill — " she dees not know which ir, is." Poor Heine I he was horribly jealous. At all events, if his wife was not literary, she had'a very pronounced taste for the circus acd the theatre, and for a young woman her, existence was sad and solitary. Sometimes she obtained her husband's permission to go with some woman friend to the play ; then, if he did not openly betray his anguish of heart, a few words he let fall wculd reveal it.

One morning I received a visit from the doctor, who came to tell me that Henri Heine had just recovered from an unusually grave attack and would like to see me. . . " What can our skill do," he answered, "opposed to a pssnonate love and an unreasoning jealousy 1 Nothing can. distract Heine's mind, seeing the cause of his madness is always with him. Marriage is fatal in such a case." The doctor shrugged hi 3 shoulders, and. continued: "It is not bis wife's fault; but no amount of care can compensate for the harm done by one such night like the last. Ido not know why these nnjast suspicions came into my patient's head. I can only tell you what occurred. Slipping, or rather throwing, himself from his bed on to the ground, and crawling alocg by the help of hiß ha^ds, ha managed by fcheer force cf" will to reach the door of his wife's room, where ho fainted, and no one knows how long he lay there. As his doctor, it was necessary to^tell me of the lamentable adventure. It was she who told me, and I could see what the confidence cost her."

Seized in the middle of the night (at another time) with one cf his terrible attacks, which seemed this time to_justify the worst fears, his wife, filled with dread, flew to him. She took his hand, held ir, and warmed it, weeping bitterly all the time, while, in a voice broken by sobs, she kept repeating :

" No, Henri, you cannot do that ; you must not die ? Have some pity on me ! My parrot died this morning ; I shall be too miserable if you die too I "

"It was a command," he added, " which I obeyed, and continued to live — you understand, my friend, when one is given a good reason."