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Updated: June 3, 2025
When Arthur left No. 2002, he went to pay his respects to the carriage to which, and to the side of her mamma, the dove colored author of Mes Larmes had by this time returned. Indefatigable old Major Pendennis was in waiting upon Lady Clavering, and had occupied the back seat in her carriage; the box being in possession of young Hopeful, under the care of Captain Strong.
She had a sensible face, now that I observed her naturally, as it were; and her hands, how I have agonized over those hands on the stage! all knuckles and exaggerated veins, clutching her dress as she sang, or, petrified, outstretched to Leonore's "Pourquoi ces larmes?" her hands were the hands of an honest, hard-working woman who buckrams her own skirts, and at need could scrub her own floor.
Dry the pretty eyes, I can't bear that;" and he proceeded to offer that consolation which the circumstance required, and which the tears, the genuine tears of vexation, which now sprang from the angry eyes of the author of 'Mes Larmes' demanded. The scornful and sarcastic tone of Pendennis quite frightened and overcame the girl. "I I don't want your consolation.
"Oh! go on! I adore it," cried the lady of 'Mes Larmes. "Heavenly night! heavenly, heavenly moon! but I must shut my window, and not talk to you on account of les moeurs. How droll they are, les moeurs! Adieu." And Pen began to sing the Goodnight to Don Basilio. The next day they were walking in the fields together, laughing and chattering the gayest pair of friends.
There is nothing so painful as to see a singer struggling with tremolos and arpeggios." How right he is! He has one theory about the trembling of the chin. It certainly is very effective. When in "Medje" I say, "Tu n'as pas vu mes larmes, tout la nuit j'ai pleure," Delsarte says, "Make your chin tremble; just try it once," pointing to a diagram, "and every one will be overcome."
Arthur was in correspondence with a young lady whose initials were B. A. To these pretty little compositions Mr. Pen replied in his best and gallantest manner; with jokes, with news of the town, with points of wit, nay, with pretty little verses very likely, in reply to the versicles of the Muse of "Mes Larmes."
Laura Larmes, who reads all the novels, and rolls her great eyes around the ball room, who laughs at the idea of such a girl as Blanche Amory in Pendennis, who would be pensive if she were not so plump, who likes "nothing so much as walking on the cliff by moonlight," who wonders that girls should want to dance on warm summer nights when they have Nature, "and such nature" before them, who, in fact, would be a mere emotion if she were not a bouncing girl, Laura Larmes wonders that any man can be so happy as Kurz Pacha.
He turned sentimental ballads of Schiller and Goethe into English verse for the ladies, and Blanche unlocked 'Mes Larmes' for him, and imparted to him some of the plaintive outpourings of her own tender Muse. It appeared from these poems that this young creature had indeed suffered prodigiously. She was familiar with the idea of suicide. Death she repeatedly longed for.
I frequently met M. Duval at breakfast at a neighbouring café, and our conversation turned on l'exposition de la pièce, préparer la situation, nous aurons des larmes, etc. One day, as I sat waiting for him, I took up the Voltaire. It contained an article by M. Zola. Naturalisme, la vérité, la science, were repeated some half-a-dozen times.
They told me he would be amusing, but I’ve been bored to death.’ Which reminded me of my one visit to England, when I heard a young nobleman declare that he had been to ‘such a dull dinner to meet a duffer called “Renan!” ’ “Sainte-Beuve’s Larmes de Racine was given at the Théâtre Français during its author’s last illness.
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