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with those 〃feet of ivory；〃 like Bombyca's； down the dark side of the silent
moonlit streets of Beaucaire？
Then she came where Aucassin was lamenting in his cell； and she
whispered to him how she was fleeing for her life。 And he answered that
without her he must die； and then this foolish pair； in the very mouth of
peril； must needs begin a war of words as to which loved the other best！
〃Nay； fair sweet friend；〃 saith Aucassin； 〃it may not be that thou lovest
me more than I love thee。 Woman may not love man as man loves
woman； for a woman's love lies no deeper than in the glance of her eye；
and the blossom of her breast； and her foot's tip…toe； but man's love is in
his heart planted； whence never can it issue forth and pass away。〃
So while they speak
〃In debate as birds are； Hawk on bough；〃
comes the kind sentinel to warn them of a danger。 And Nicolette
flees； and leaps into the fosse； and thence escapes into a great forest and
lonely。 In the morning she met shepherds merry over their meat； and
bade them tell Aucassin to hunt in that forest； where he should find a deer
whereof one glance would cure him of his malady。 The shepherds are
happy； laughing people； who half mock Nicolette； and quite mock
Aucassin； when he comes that way。 But at first they took Nicolette for a
fee； such a beauty shone so brightly from her； and lit up all the forest。
Aucassin they banter； and indeed the free talk of the peasants to their
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lord's son in that feudal age sounds curiously； and may well make us
reconsider our notions of early feudalism。
But Aucassin learns at least that Nicolette is in the wood； and he rides
at adventure after her； till the thorns have ruined his silken surcoat； and the
blood； dripping from his torn body； makes a visible track in the grass。 So；
as he wept； he met a monstrous man of the wood； that asked him why he
lamented。 And he said he was sorrowing for a lily…white hound that he
had lost。 Then the wild man mocked him； and told his own tale。 He
was in that estate which Achilles； among the ghosts； preferred to all the
kingship of the dead outworn。 He was hind and hireling to a villein； and he
had lost one of the villein's oxen。 For that he dared not go into the town；
where a prison awaited him。 Moreover； they had dragged the very bed
from under his old mother； to pay the price of the ox； and she lay on straw；
and at that the woodman wept。
A curious touch； is it not； of pity for the people？ The old poet is
serious for one moment。 〃Compare；〃 he says； 〃the sorrows of sentiment；
of ladies and lovers； praised in song； with the sorrows of the poor； with
troubles that are real and not of the heart！〃 Even Aucassin the lovelorn
feels it； and gives the hind money to pay for his ox； and so riding on
comes to a lodge that Nicolette has built with blossoms and boughs。 And
Aucassin crept in and looked through a gap in the fragrant walls of the
lodge； and saw the stars in heaven； and one that was brighter than the rest。
Does one not feel it； the cool of that old summer night； the sweet smell
of broken boughs and trodden grass and deep dew； and the shining of the
star？
〃Star that I from far behold That the moon draws to her fold；
Nicolette with thee doth dwell； My sweet love with locks of gold；〃
sings Aucassin。 〃And when Nicolette heard Aucassin； right so came
she unto him； and passed within the lodge； and cast her arms about his
neck and kissed and embraced him：
〃Fair sweet friend； welcome be thou！〃 〃And thou； fair sweet love； be
thou welcome！〃
There the story should end； in a dream of a summer's night。 But the
old minstrel did not end it so； or some one has continued his work with a
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heavier hand。 Aucassin rides； he cares not whither； if he has but his love
with him。 And they come to a fantastic land of burlesque； such as
Pantagruel's crew touched at many a time。 And Nicolette is taken by
Carthaginian pirates； and proves to be daughter to the King of Carthage；
and leaves his court and comes to Beaucaire in the disguise of a ministrel；
and 〃journeys end in lovers' meeting。〃
That is all the tale； with its gaps； its careless passages； its adventures
that do not interest the poet。 He only cares for youth； love； spring；
flowers； and the song of the birds； the rest； except the passage about the
hind； is mere 〃business〃 done casually； because the audience expects
broad jests； hard blows； misadventures； recognitions。 What lives is the
touch of poetry； of longing； of tender heart； of humorous resignation。 It
lives； and always must live； 〃while the nature of man is the same。〃 The
poet hopes his tale will gladden sad men。 This service it did for M。 Bida；
he says； in the dreadful year of 1870…71； when he translated 〃Aucassin。〃
This； too； it has done for me in days not delightful。 ｛6｝
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PLOTINUS （A。D。 200…262）
To the Lady Violet Lebas。
Dear Lady Violet；You are discursive and desultory enough； as a
reader； to have pleased even the late Lord Iddesleigh。 It was 〃Aucassin
and Nicolette〃 only a month ago； and to…day you have been reading Lord
Lytton's 〃Strange Story；〃 I am sure； for you want information about
Plotinus！ He was born （about A。D。 200） in Wolf… town （Lycopolis）； in
Egypt； the town； you know； where the natives might not eat wolves； poor
fellows； just as the people of Thebes might not eat sheep。 Probably this
prohibition caused Plotinus no regret； for he was a consistent vegetarian。
However； we are advancing too rapidly； and we must discuss Plotinus
more in order。 His name is very dear to mystic novelists； like the author
of 〃Zanoni。〃 They always describe their favourite hero as 〃deep in
Plotinus or Iamblichus；〃 and I venture to think that nearly represents the
depth of their own explorations。 We do not know exactly when Plotinus
was born。 Like many ladies he used to wrap up his age in a mystery；
observing that these petty details about the body （a mere husk of flesh
binding the soul） were of no importance。 He was not weaned till he was
eight years old； a singular circumstance。 Having a turn for philosophy；
he attended the schools of Alexandria； concerning which Kingsley's
〃Hypatia〃 is the most accessible authority。
All these anecdotes； I should have said； we learn from Porphyry； the
Tyrian； who was a kind of Boswell to Plotinus。 The philosopher himself
often reminds me of Dr。 Johnson； especially as Dr。 Johnson is described by
Mr。 Carlyle。 Jus