“DEARSIRS,—Had I been requested to write down my personal experiences I should have declined the task, as it seems to me impossible to write an honest history of one’s own career. The following biographical sketch is the fruit of moments stolen from the active hours of a busy life. I stand alone in the world, and shall never know the happiness of being either a father or a mother; I belong to the great family of neuter Hymenoptera. Feeling the misery of a solitary life, you will not be surprised to learn that I consented to become a tutor. An aristocratic Butterfly who lived near Paris in the woods of Belle Vue, had once saved my life, and as a token of gratitude I consented to become the foster-parent of the child he would never live to see. The egg was carefully deposited in the calyx of a flower, and hatched by a ray of sunlight the day after the parent’s death. It pained me to see the youth begin life by an act of ingratitude. He left the flower that had found a place for him in her heart without saying a word. His early education was most trying to one’s temper; he was as capricious as the wind, and of unheard-of thoughtlessness. But thoughtless characters are ignorant of the harm they do, and as a rule, are not unpopular. I loved the little orphan, although he had all the faults of a poor caterpillar. My instruction, advice, and guidance seemed to be thrown away upon him. Full of vivacity and light-heartedness, he embraced every opportunity of following the bent of his own reckless will. If I left him for an instant, on my return I never found him in the same place. He would venture to climb almost inaccessible plants, and risk his neck along the edges of leaves that hung over a yawning precipice. I remember being called away on important business, at a time when his sixteen legs would hardly carry him. On my return, I in vain searched for my charge, until at last I found him up a tree whose topmost branch he had reached, at the peril of his life.“He was scarcely out of his babyhood when his vivacity suddenly left him. It seemed to me that my counsels were beginning to bear fruit, but I was soon undeceived. What I had mistaken for signs of repentance was the chrysalis malady, common to the young. He remained from fifteen to twenty days without moving a muscle; apparently asleep.“ ‘What do you feel like?’ I asked him from time to time. ‘What is the matter, my poor child?’“ ‘Nothing,’ he replied in a husky voice. ‘Nothing, my good tutor.I cannot move about, and yet feel sensations of life and motion all over me. I am weary, weary, do not talk to me! Keep quiet, do not stir!’“He became quite unrecognisable; his body swollen and of a yellow hue, like a faded leaf. This latent life so much resembled death, that I despaired of saving him; when one day, warmed by a splendid sun, he gradually awoke. Never was transformation more startling, more complete; he had lost his worm-like mould, and rose from his shell like a disembodied spirit, glorious in prismatic hues. Four azure wings, as if by enchantment, had been placed upon his shoulders, feelers curved gracefully above his head, while six dainty legs peeped out beneath his velvet coat. His eyes, bright as gems, sparkling with the boundless prospect his new attributes had brought with them, he shook his wings and rose lightly in the air.“I followed him as fast as my worn wings would carry me. Never was a course more erratic. Never flight more impetuous. It seemed as though the earth belonged to him, and all its flowers were designed for his pleasure; as though all created things, edged with the roseate light of his new being, were made to minister to his joy. He seemed to have risen from the grave to flit through a paradise all his own.“Soon weary of caprice, fields and flowers lost their enchanting lustre, and ennui crept on apace. Against this evil, riches, health, the joys of liberty, all the pleasures of nature, were powerless. He alighted, choosing the plant of Homer and Plato, the daffodil, only to leave it for the lichen of bare rocks, where, folding his wings he remained the prey of discontent and satiety.“More than once, dreading his desperate mood, I hid away the dark poisonous leaves of the belladona and hemlock.“One evening he came in a state of great agitation, and confided to me that he had met in his wanderings a most amiable Butterfly who had just arrived from distant lands, bringing tidings of the wonders of the world.“A craving for exploration had seized upon him. ‘I must either die or travel,’ said he.“ ‘Do not die,’ I replied; ‘self-inflicted death is only fit for the sneak and coward. Let us travel!’“My words filled him with new life; he spread his wings, and we started for Baden.“It is impossible to describe his joy at our departure, his delightedecstasy. He was full of young life, its hopes and aspirations. As for myself, grief had enfeebled my wings, so that I found it hard to follow him. We only stopped at Chateau Thierry, the birthplace of La Fontaine, not far from the vaunted borders of the Marne.“Shall I tell you the true cause of our stoppage? He caught sight of a humble Violet in the corner of a wood.“ ‘Who could help loving you, little Violet,’ he exclaimed, ‘with your face so sweet and dewy? If you only knew how charmingly honest you look, decked with your border of little green leaves, you would then understand my love. Be kind, consent to become my dear sister. See how calm I remain when near you! How I love these sheltering trees, the peaceful freshness, and the sacred perfume you breathe around. How modestly you hide your beauty in this delicious shade. Love me! love me in return, and make life happy!’“ ‘Be a poor flower like me,’ replied the Violet, ‘and I will love you; and when winter comes, when the snow covers the ground, and the wind whistles through the leafless trees, I will hide you under my leaves, and together we will forget the cold that spreads death around. Fold your wings, and promise to be always faithful.’“ ‘Always?’ he repeated, ‘that is too long. Besides, there is no winter!’ and he flew away.“ ‘Don’t grieve,’ I said to the Violet, ‘you have escaped misery.’“Our way lay over wheat-fields, forests, towns, villages, and the sad plain of Champagne. Not far from Metz, attracted by a sweet smell, he exclaimed, ‘The gardens watered by these clear springs must indeed be beautiful!’ Here he winged his way to a single Rose, growing on the banks of the Moselle.“ ‘Beautiful Rose,’ he murmured, ‘never has the sun shone on a flower more lovely. I have travelled far, suffer me to rest on one of your leaves.’“ ‘Stay!’ replied the Rose, ‘presumptuous flatterer, do not approach me!’“Nothing daunted he touched a branch and retreated, exclaiming, ‘You have pricked me!’ and he showed his wounded wing. ‘I no longer love wild roses, they are cruel, devoid of heart. Let us fly, to be happy is to be unfaithful!’“Not far from the Rose he saw a Lily whose form charmed him. While its stateliness, purity, and cold, aristocratic bearing, filled him with mingled fear and admiration.“ ‘I do not dare to love you,’ he said in his most respectful voice, ‘for I am nothing more than a Butterfly, and I fear even to disturb the air you have glorified by your presence.’“ ‘Be spotless, pure, and unchangeable,’ replied the Lily, ‘and I will befriend you.’“ ‘Never change! In this world few Butterflies are sincere.’ He really could not promise. A puff of wind carried him away to the silvery banks of the Rhine. I soon joined him.“ ‘Follow me,’ he was addressing a Daisy, ‘follow me, and I will love you for your simplicity. Let us cross the Rhine and go to Baden. You will enjoy brilliant concerts, routs, dances, gay palaces, and the great mountains you can descry on the distant horizon. Leave these tame banks and shine as the queen of flowers in the smiling country yonder.’“ ‘No,’ replied the virtuous Daisy. ‘No! I love my native land, my sisters around me, and the mother earth that nourishes me. Here I must stay, must live and die. Do not tempt me to do wrong. The reason why Daisies are loved, is because they are the emblems of constancy. I cannot follow you, but you can remain with me, far from the noise of the world of which you speak. I will love you. Believe me, happiness is within the reach of all who are true and contented.What flower will love you better than I? Here, come, count my petals. Do not forget a single one, and you will find that I love you, and that I am not loved in return.’“He hesitated an instant, and the eye of the tender flower dilated with hope. ‘What are my wings made for?’ he said, and left the ground.“ ‘I shall die,’ said the Daisy, bending low.“ ‘Nay,’ I replied, ‘thy grief will pass away.’“A tiny Forget-me-not whispered, ‘Daisy queen! you have our love, our admiration! Why break our harmony? Why cast your pure heart away on a worthless Butterfly, whose flight and fancy follow every breath of wind, who is as swift to change his loves as evil tidings to fly abroad.’“Following my young scapegrace, I observed him dart down towards a stream as if fired by a sudden resolution to end his days. ‘Good heavens!’ I cried, ‘what has he done?’ as, descending to the water, I beheld nothing but the floating leaves on its surface. Shall I own it? my blood froze with terror and apprehension. Fool that I was, he was enjoying the joke all the while through a tuft of reeds. ‘Come, my tutor, come. I have found her at last.’ He was dancing like a lunatic round a bulrush. My temper was sorely tried; I nearly swore on observing this fresh token of folly.“The young rogue continued: ‘She is no flower this time; a real treasure, a daughter of the air, winged like an angel, and jewelled like a queen.’“I then perceived at the top of the reed, softly swaying in the wind, a graceful Dragon-fly of many colours.“ ‘Allow me to present my betrothed,’ continued my pupil.“ ‘What? Already!’ I exclaimed.“ ‘Yes,’ said the Fly. ‘Our shadows have grown, and these flowers have closed, since we became acquainted. I seem to have known and loved my charmer all my days.’“Soon setting out for Baden, they gratified every caprice, arranged their wedding, and issued formal invitations to the gayest of the gay among the insect aristocracy. It was a civil marriage, advertised with all the pomp of a royal union, and attended by the cream of the native and foreign nobility. Certain clauses in the marriage code, touching the obedience and constancy of the wedded pair, gave offence to the lady, as she deemed them superfluous; she, however, modestly kept her views on these subjects to herself. The ceremony was so imposing that I employed a spider to make a sketch of the scene.“The wedding was followed by rejoicing, feasting, and gaiety.Pleasure parties thronged the ruts in the fields, making their way onward to congratulate the happy pair. The Snail drove over in her carriage, while the Hare mounted his thorough-bred Tortoise, and the Ant his Centiped, to pay their formal visits. Even the rustics held high holiday, and thronged to witness the marvellous performances of a troop of acrobats on the verge of a corn-field. Here, a Grasshopper displayed wonderful dexterity in dancing with and without a pole on a horizontal stem of grass; and a showman cricket was blowing a blast of music through the corolla of a tricoloured convolvulus.“A ball had been arranged, for which great preparations were made. A large Glow-worm, aided by a staff of Fire-flies, was charged with the illumination. The Glow-worm produced the central light, while his assistants, the Fire-flies, stood around the open cups of flowers with such marvellous effect, that every one thought a fairy had passed that way. The golden stems of astragalus were of such dazzling brightness that even the Butterflies could hardly bear its light; while many nocturnal insects retired, without being able to congratulate the married couple. Some remained from sheer politeness, veiling their eyes with their velvet wings.“When the bride appeared, the whole assembly burst into transports of admiration. She was certainly a georgeously-dressed, charming-looking creature. She never rested for a second, but kept up with themusic and dance. ‘Waltzing much too frequently’ said an old neuter, ‘with a magnificent cousin in the Guards.’ Her husband, my pupil, was the heart and soul of the party; he was everywhere, dancing and conversing.“The orchestra, led by a humble Bee, a clever pupil of Da Costa, performed admirably a number of new waltzes and field-flower dances. Towards midnight the Signora Cavelleta, dressed in rather a transparent costume, danced a satarelle, which was only moderately successful. The ball was then interrupted by a grand vocal and instrumental concert, in which figured a number of celebrated artists who had followed the fine weather to Baden. A young Cricket played a solo on the violin, which Paganini had also executed just before his death.“A Grasshopper, who had created afuroreat Milan, the classic land of grasshoppers, sang a song of her own composition with great effect. Others followed, rendering some of the finest music of modern times in a manner unsurpassed. At the close of the concert a supper, ingeniously prepared from the juice of jessamine, myrtle, and orange blossom, was served in pretty little blue and rose-coloured bells. This delicious repast was prepared by a Bee, whose secret even the most renowned makers of bon-bons would have been glad to know.“At one o’clock dancing recommenced with renewed vigour. The fête was at its height. Half an hour later strange rumours arose. It was whispered that the husband, in a transport of rage and jealousy, was searching everywhere for his missing wife. Some friends, with the intention, no doubt, of reassuring him, said she had danced constantly with her handsome, dashing cousin, and was seen to elope with him.“ ‘Ah! the false one!’ cried the poor, despairing husband; ‘I will be revenged!’“I pitied his despair, and coaxed him away from the scene, at once so gay and so tragic. ‘You have sown,’ I said, ‘and you have reaped. It is now not a question of cursing life, but of bearing it.’“We left Baden that night, and, contrary to my expectation, my pupil never recovered the humiliating shock his own folly had brought upon him, by ‘marrying in haste, and repenting at leisure.’ True to his weak nature, easily attracted by glitter and flare, he at last flung himself into a lamp at Strasbourg, and perished with a comfortingbelief in the doctrine of transmigration of Buddha and Pythagoras.The fate of the runaway Dragon-fly is a warning to weak wives. She and her admirer were caught in the net of a princely bird, and pinned down on a board, in a museum, two days after their elopement.
“DEARSIRS,—Had I been requested to write down my personal experiences I should have declined the task, as it seems to me impossible to write an honest history of one’s own career. The following biographical sketch is the fruit of moments stolen from the active hours of a busy life. I stand alone in the world, and shall never know the happiness of being either a father or a mother; I belong to the great family of neuter Hymenoptera. Feeling the misery of a solitary life, you will not be surprised to learn that I consented to become a tutor. An aristocratic Butterfly who lived near Paris in the woods of Belle Vue, had once saved my life, and as a token of gratitude I consented to become the foster-parent of the child he would never live to see. The egg was carefully deposited in the calyx of a flower, and hatched by a ray of sunlight the day after the parent’s death. It pained me to see the youth begin life by an act of ingratitude. He left the flower that had found a place for him in her heart without saying a word. His early education was most trying to one’s temper; he was as capricious as the wind, and of unheard-of thoughtlessness. But thoughtless characters are ignorant of the harm they do, and as a rule, are not unpopular. I loved the little orphan, although he had all the faults of a poor caterpillar. My instruction, advice, and guidance seemed to be thrown away upon him. Full of vivacity and light-heartedness, he embraced every opportunity of following the bent of his own reckless will. If I left him for an instant, on my return I never found him in the same place. He would venture to climb almost inaccessible plants, and risk his neck along the edges of leaves that hung over a yawning precipice. I remember being called away on important business, at a time when his sixteen legs would hardly carry him. On my return, I in vain searched for my charge, until at last I found him up a tree whose topmost branch he had reached, at the peril of his life.
“He was scarcely out of his babyhood when his vivacity suddenly left him. It seemed to me that my counsels were beginning to bear fruit, but I was soon undeceived. What I had mistaken for signs of repentance was the chrysalis malady, common to the young. He remained from fifteen to twenty days without moving a muscle; apparently asleep.
“ ‘What do you feel like?’ I asked him from time to time. ‘What is the matter, my poor child?’
“ ‘Nothing,’ he replied in a husky voice. ‘Nothing, my good tutor.I cannot move about, and yet feel sensations of life and motion all over me. I am weary, weary, do not talk to me! Keep quiet, do not stir!’
“He became quite unrecognisable; his body swollen and of a yellow hue, like a faded leaf. This latent life so much resembled death, that I despaired of saving him; when one day, warmed by a splendid sun, he gradually awoke. Never was transformation more startling, more complete; he had lost his worm-like mould, and rose from his shell like a disembodied spirit, glorious in prismatic hues. Four azure wings, as if by enchantment, had been placed upon his shoulders, feelers curved gracefully above his head, while six dainty legs peeped out beneath his velvet coat. His eyes, bright as gems, sparkling with the boundless prospect his new attributes had brought with them, he shook his wings and rose lightly in the air.
“I followed him as fast as my worn wings would carry me. Never was a course more erratic. Never flight more impetuous. It seemed as though the earth belonged to him, and all its flowers were designed for his pleasure; as though all created things, edged with the roseate light of his new being, were made to minister to his joy. He seemed to have risen from the grave to flit through a paradise all his own.
“Soon weary of caprice, fields and flowers lost their enchanting lustre, and ennui crept on apace. Against this evil, riches, health, the joys of liberty, all the pleasures of nature, were powerless. He alighted, choosing the plant of Homer and Plato, the daffodil, only to leave it for the lichen of bare rocks, where, folding his wings he remained the prey of discontent and satiety.
“More than once, dreading his desperate mood, I hid away the dark poisonous leaves of the belladona and hemlock.
“One evening he came in a state of great agitation, and confided to me that he had met in his wanderings a most amiable Butterfly who had just arrived from distant lands, bringing tidings of the wonders of the world.
“A craving for exploration had seized upon him. ‘I must either die or travel,’ said he.
“ ‘Do not die,’ I replied; ‘self-inflicted death is only fit for the sneak and coward. Let us travel!’
“My words filled him with new life; he spread his wings, and we started for Baden.
“It is impossible to describe his joy at our departure, his delightedecstasy. He was full of young life, its hopes and aspirations. As for myself, grief had enfeebled my wings, so that I found it hard to follow him. We only stopped at Chateau Thierry, the birthplace of La Fontaine, not far from the vaunted borders of the Marne.
“Shall I tell you the true cause of our stoppage? He caught sight of a humble Violet in the corner of a wood.
“ ‘Who could help loving you, little Violet,’ he exclaimed, ‘with your face so sweet and dewy? If you only knew how charmingly honest you look, decked with your border of little green leaves, you would then understand my love. Be kind, consent to become my dear sister. See how calm I remain when near you! How I love these sheltering trees, the peaceful freshness, and the sacred perfume you breathe around. How modestly you hide your beauty in this delicious shade. Love me! love me in return, and make life happy!’
“ ‘Be a poor flower like me,’ replied the Violet, ‘and I will love you; and when winter comes, when the snow covers the ground, and the wind whistles through the leafless trees, I will hide you under my leaves, and together we will forget the cold that spreads death around. Fold your wings, and promise to be always faithful.’
“ ‘Always?’ he repeated, ‘that is too long. Besides, there is no winter!’ and he flew away.
“ ‘Don’t grieve,’ I said to the Violet, ‘you have escaped misery.’
“Our way lay over wheat-fields, forests, towns, villages, and the sad plain of Champagne. Not far from Metz, attracted by a sweet smell, he exclaimed, ‘The gardens watered by these clear springs must indeed be beautiful!’ Here he winged his way to a single Rose, growing on the banks of the Moselle.
“ ‘Beautiful Rose,’ he murmured, ‘never has the sun shone on a flower more lovely. I have travelled far, suffer me to rest on one of your leaves.’
“ ‘Stay!’ replied the Rose, ‘presumptuous flatterer, do not approach me!’
“Nothing daunted he touched a branch and retreated, exclaiming, ‘You have pricked me!’ and he showed his wounded wing. ‘I no longer love wild roses, they are cruel, devoid of heart. Let us fly, to be happy is to be unfaithful!’
“Not far from the Rose he saw a Lily whose form charmed him. While its stateliness, purity, and cold, aristocratic bearing, filled him with mingled fear and admiration.
“ ‘I do not dare to love you,’ he said in his most respectful voice, ‘for I am nothing more than a Butterfly, and I fear even to disturb the air you have glorified by your presence.’
“ ‘Be spotless, pure, and unchangeable,’ replied the Lily, ‘and I will befriend you.’
“ ‘Never change! In this world few Butterflies are sincere.’ He really could not promise. A puff of wind carried him away to the silvery banks of the Rhine. I soon joined him.
“ ‘Follow me,’ he was addressing a Daisy, ‘follow me, and I will love you for your simplicity. Let us cross the Rhine and go to Baden. You will enjoy brilliant concerts, routs, dances, gay palaces, and the great mountains you can descry on the distant horizon. Leave these tame banks and shine as the queen of flowers in the smiling country yonder.’
“ ‘No,’ replied the virtuous Daisy. ‘No! I love my native land, my sisters around me, and the mother earth that nourishes me. Here I must stay, must live and die. Do not tempt me to do wrong. The reason why Daisies are loved, is because they are the emblems of constancy. I cannot follow you, but you can remain with me, far from the noise of the world of which you speak. I will love you. Believe me, happiness is within the reach of all who are true and contented.What flower will love you better than I? Here, come, count my petals. Do not forget a single one, and you will find that I love you, and that I am not loved in return.’
“He hesitated an instant, and the eye of the tender flower dilated with hope. ‘What are my wings made for?’ he said, and left the ground.
“ ‘I shall die,’ said the Daisy, bending low.
“ ‘Nay,’ I replied, ‘thy grief will pass away.’
“A tiny Forget-me-not whispered, ‘Daisy queen! you have our love, our admiration! Why break our harmony? Why cast your pure heart away on a worthless Butterfly, whose flight and fancy follow every breath of wind, who is as swift to change his loves as evil tidings to fly abroad.’
“Following my young scapegrace, I observed him dart down towards a stream as if fired by a sudden resolution to end his days. ‘Good heavens!’ I cried, ‘what has he done?’ as, descending to the water, I beheld nothing but the floating leaves on its surface. Shall I own it? my blood froze with terror and apprehension. Fool that I was, he was enjoying the joke all the while through a tuft of reeds. ‘Come, my tutor, come. I have found her at last.’ He was dancing like a lunatic round a bulrush. My temper was sorely tried; I nearly swore on observing this fresh token of folly.
“The young rogue continued: ‘She is no flower this time; a real treasure, a daughter of the air, winged like an angel, and jewelled like a queen.’
“I then perceived at the top of the reed, softly swaying in the wind, a graceful Dragon-fly of many colours.
“ ‘Allow me to present my betrothed,’ continued my pupil.
“ ‘What? Already!’ I exclaimed.
“ ‘Yes,’ said the Fly. ‘Our shadows have grown, and these flowers have closed, since we became acquainted. I seem to have known and loved my charmer all my days.’
“Soon setting out for Baden, they gratified every caprice, arranged their wedding, and issued formal invitations to the gayest of the gay among the insect aristocracy. It was a civil marriage, advertised with all the pomp of a royal union, and attended by the cream of the native and foreign nobility. Certain clauses in the marriage code, touching the obedience and constancy of the wedded pair, gave offence to the lady, as she deemed them superfluous; she, however, modestly kept her views on these subjects to herself. The ceremony was so imposing that I employed a spider to make a sketch of the scene.
“The wedding was followed by rejoicing, feasting, and gaiety.Pleasure parties thronged the ruts in the fields, making their way onward to congratulate the happy pair. The Snail drove over in her carriage, while the Hare mounted his thorough-bred Tortoise, and the Ant his Centiped, to pay their formal visits. Even the rustics held high holiday, and thronged to witness the marvellous performances of a troop of acrobats on the verge of a corn-field. Here, a Grasshopper displayed wonderful dexterity in dancing with and without a pole on a horizontal stem of grass; and a showman cricket was blowing a blast of music through the corolla of a tricoloured convolvulus.
“A ball had been arranged, for which great preparations were made. A large Glow-worm, aided by a staff of Fire-flies, was charged with the illumination. The Glow-worm produced the central light, while his assistants, the Fire-flies, stood around the open cups of flowers with such marvellous effect, that every one thought a fairy had passed that way. The golden stems of astragalus were of such dazzling brightness that even the Butterflies could hardly bear its light; while many nocturnal insects retired, without being able to congratulate the married couple. Some remained from sheer politeness, veiling their eyes with their velvet wings.
“When the bride appeared, the whole assembly burst into transports of admiration. She was certainly a georgeously-dressed, charming-looking creature. She never rested for a second, but kept up with themusic and dance. ‘Waltzing much too frequently’ said an old neuter, ‘with a magnificent cousin in the Guards.’ Her husband, my pupil, was the heart and soul of the party; he was everywhere, dancing and conversing.
“The orchestra, led by a humble Bee, a clever pupil of Da Costa, performed admirably a number of new waltzes and field-flower dances. Towards midnight the Signora Cavelleta, dressed in rather a transparent costume, danced a satarelle, which was only moderately successful. The ball was then interrupted by a grand vocal and instrumental concert, in which figured a number of celebrated artists who had followed the fine weather to Baden. A young Cricket played a solo on the violin, which Paganini had also executed just before his death.
“A Grasshopper, who had created afuroreat Milan, the classic land of grasshoppers, sang a song of her own composition with great effect. Others followed, rendering some of the finest music of modern times in a manner unsurpassed. At the close of the concert a supper, ingeniously prepared from the juice of jessamine, myrtle, and orange blossom, was served in pretty little blue and rose-coloured bells. This delicious repast was prepared by a Bee, whose secret even the most renowned makers of bon-bons would have been glad to know.
“At one o’clock dancing recommenced with renewed vigour. The fête was at its height. Half an hour later strange rumours arose. It was whispered that the husband, in a transport of rage and jealousy, was searching everywhere for his missing wife. Some friends, with the intention, no doubt, of reassuring him, said she had danced constantly with her handsome, dashing cousin, and was seen to elope with him.
“ ‘Ah! the false one!’ cried the poor, despairing husband; ‘I will be revenged!’
“I pitied his despair, and coaxed him away from the scene, at once so gay and so tragic. ‘You have sown,’ I said, ‘and you have reaped. It is now not a question of cursing life, but of bearing it.’
“We left Baden that night, and, contrary to my expectation, my pupil never recovered the humiliating shock his own folly had brought upon him, by ‘marrying in haste, and repenting at leisure.’ True to his weak nature, easily attracted by glitter and flare, he at last flung himself into a lamp at Strasbourg, and perished with a comfortingbelief in the doctrine of transmigration of Buddha and Pythagoras.
The fate of the runaway Dragon-fly is a warning to weak wives. She and her admirer were caught in the net of a princely bird, and pinned down on a board, in a museum, two days after their elopement.