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Updated: May 2, 2025
It appeared that he had suffered some convulsion, some delirium, and that he had fallen; that the fall had accelerated his end, according to the prognosis of Frere Sylvain. We raised the vicomte; he was cold and dead. He held a lock of fair hair in his right hand, and that hand was tightly pressed upon his heart."
Yet this elderly person had once taken the medal and the traveling scholarship; he had composed the first cantata crowned by the Institut at the time of the re-establishment of the Academie de Rome; he was M. Sylvain Pons, in fact M. Sylvain Pons, whose name appears on the covers of well-known sentimental songs trilled by our mothers, to say nothing of a couple of operas, played in 1815 and 1816, and divers unpublished scores.
Twenty times did Sylvain throw himself into the turbulent waters, hoping to be able to swim to the other side, but each time an irresistible force drove him back upon the bank he had just quitted, while, as for Jocosa, she even essayed to cross the flood upon a tree which came floating down torn up by the roots, but her efforts were equally useless.
They mopped their eyes and coughed, and were deeply moved when the puppets gasped, and gulped, and roared, and fainted away in accordance with the hallowed tragic ritual. "And people say the French are gay!" exclaimed Christophe as they left the theater. "There's a time for everything," said Sylvain Kohn chaffingly. "You wanted virtue. You see, there's still virtue in France."
These big self-conscious children, who spent their time in aping each other, these wonderful apes reigned and held sway over the Parisians: and the dramatic authors were their chief ministers. Christophe asked Sylvain Kohn to conduct him into the kingdom of shadows and reflections.
Then she sent for her chariot of green rushes, ornamented with May dewdrops, which she particularly valued and always collected with great care; and ordered her six short-tailed moles to carry them all back to the well-known pastures, which they did in a remarkably short time; and Sylvain and Jocosa were overjoyed to see their dearly-loved home once more after all their toilful wanderings.
Indeed, nothing more could have been thought of, either for Sylvain and Jocosa or for their flocks; and their delight satisfied even the Fairy who had planned it all to please them.
After the first act he turned to Sylvain Kohn, who asked him, with glittering eyes: "Well, old man, what do you think of it?" And he said: "Is it like that all through?" "Yes." "But it's nothing." Kohn protested loudly, and called him a Philistine. "Nothing at all," said Christophe. "No music. No development. No sequence. No cohesion. Very nice harmony. Quite good orchestral effects, quite good.
"It is impossible," he said once more, as he had said that evening when he had left the theater on the boulevards in disgust. "There must be something else." "What more do you want?" asked Sylvain Kohn. "France." "We are France," said Sylvain Kohn, gurgling with laughter. Christophe stared hard at him for a moment, then shook his head, and said once more: "There must be something else."
The impresario looked cunningly at Sylvain Kohn, and replied: "But she has so much talent!" "Not a spark," said Christophe. "What!... She has a fine voice!" "Not a bit of it." "And she is beautiful." "I don't care a damn." "That won't hurt the part," said Sylvain Kohn, laughing. "I want a David, a David who can sing: I don't want Helen of Troy," said Christophe.
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