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It opened with the melancholy reflection that, in the lives of mortals, the best days are the first to flee. “Optima dies … prima fugit.” I turned back to the beginning of the third book, which we had read in class that morning. “Primus ego in patriam mecum … deducam Musas”; “for I shall be the first, if I live, to bring the Muse into my country.” Cleric had explained to us that “patria” here meant, not a nation or even a province, but the little rural neighborhood on the Mincio where the poet was born.
This revelation seemed to me inestimably precious. I clung to it as if it might suddenly vanish. As I sat down to my book at last, my old dream about Lena coming across the harvest-field in her short skirt seemed to me like the memory of an actual experience. It floated before me on the page like a picture, and underneath it stood the mournful line: 'Optima dies... prima fugit.
The serious war is at last absolutely blown over. Spain has sent us word she is disarming. So are we. Who would have expected that a courtesan at Paris would have prevented a general conflagration? Madame du Barri has compensated for Madame Helen, and is optima pacis causa. I will not swear that the torch she snatched from the hands of Spain may not light up a civil war in France. The Princes of the Blood are forbidden the Court, twelve dukes and peers, of the most complaisant, are banished, or going to be banished; and even the captains of the guard. In short, the King, his mistress, and the Chancellor, have almost left themselves alone at Versailles. But as the most serious events in France have always a ray of ridicule mixed with them, some are to be exiled to Paris, and some to St. Germain. How we should laugh at anybody being banished to Soho Square and Hammersmith? The Chancellor desired to see the Prince of Conti; the latter replied, "Qu'il lui donnoit rendezvous
The revival of this style, like that of the rich old pattern in plate known as the "Mayflower," is a compliment just now paid by the present generation to the taste of the past, and Miselle was shown some beautiful specimens of the "latest mode, Ma'am," that awoke melancholy reminiscences of the shattered idols of her youth. "Here are our friends, the ruby lampshades, again," remarked Optima.
"No, nor anything else in the least degree resembling these, unless it was the picture of the oil-jars. Choose, my Optima, between the two." "Hark! we are losing something worth hearing."
"Just like broth or society, isn't it, Optima?" suggested Miselle, aside. "Why don't you discover a social pontil, then?" "Oh, I have no taste for reforming. What would there be to laugh at in the world, if the human sandiver were removed?"
"And is all cut glass blown in the first place?" asked Optima. "No, Miss, a good deal of it is pressed and then ground, either wholly or in part; but this is not so clear or free from waves as the blown. Out here is a man blowing liqueur-glasses. Perhaps you would like to see that."
These works, written mostly in 45 and 44, are, except the De Cons., still extant. To the list may be added also other works of a rhetorical nature, such as the Topica and De Optima Genere Dicendi, and some lost philosophical books, such as De Gloria.
It was then cracked off from the pontil and carried away, a finished liqueur-glass of the tiniest size, to be annealed. After this it might be used in its simple condition, or ornamented with engraving, while the bottom of the foot, still rough from contact with the pontil, was to be ground, smoothed, and then polished. "Oh, how lovely! Look, Miselle, at this ruby glass," cried out Optima.
Inscribed "FIDES OPTIMA IN DEO." The Faith of Giotto holds the cross in her right hand; in her left, a scroll with the Apostles' Creed. She treads upon cabalistic books, and has a key suspended to her waist. SECTION LVIII. Second side. Fortitude. The inscription is illegible, and the somewhat vulgar personification appears to belong rather to Courage than Fortitude.
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