DELILLE AT THE CADKAK-BLEU. 550 



fatigued the native modesty of the poet. But this unfortunately was 

 not the only deprivation which he was forced to endure, for about this 

 time he had the misfortune to lose his sight. 



There never, perhaps, lived a man, likely to suffer more from being 

 shut out from the busy scene of the world than Delille j he seemed 

 therein to regain a new zest for enjoyment, and fresh themes for his 

 muse. " If I am" said he one day, "never more to be permitted to 

 contemplate the azure vault wherein I find my Dethyrambe sur I'immor- 

 talite de lame ; if I may never again enjoy the pleasing or imposing 

 aspect of nature, I may at least listen to the accents of friendship ; I 

 may still mingle in the many stirring scenes of life, hearken to the 

 joyous exclamations, and varying cries of this good people around me, 

 and thus endeavour for a while to forget the infirmities of my age." 



" Oh ! my friends," added he to those who gathered round him, " do 

 allow me once more, before I sleep for ever, to go and dine at the 

 Cadran-Bleu." 



In vain his friends represented to him that he would be recognized, 

 and assailed on all sides by a delighted people, and that at his age it was 

 only an act of imprudence to expose himself to the fatigues of such a 

 public appearance. 



His only reply to all their objections, was that of repeating with the 

 suppliant voice of a child, that recalls some by-gone pleasure, " allow 

 me once more to go and dine at le Cadran Bleu." How was it 

 possible to resist these repeated solicitations; at length the faithful 

 companion of Delille, whom the latter always called his Antigone, hit 

 upon a plan by which he thought he might gratify the anxious desire of 

 Delille without exposing him to the danger of mixing in public. He 

 inhabited a large and spacious mansion in the Faubourg St. Germain, 

 and this he resolved to arrange in such a manner, that Delille, when 

 taken thither, might suppose that the object of his wishes had been 

 gratified. At length to the inexpressible joy of Delille, the appointed day 

 arrived : he had himself dressed as soon as he had arisen in the morning, 

 and seemed to count every hour, which hindered him from descending 

 into the herd, and being confounded with the numerous frequenters of 

 Le Boulevard du Temple. At length the carriage arrived, and he 

 drove off to the Faubourg St. Germain, with his three friends, and 

 Madame Delille. There were already assembled, several members of 

 the Academic Francaise, men of letters, celebrated artists, and a chosen 

 party from the first theatres of the capital, who had distributed them- 

 selves into various groups, in order to amuse the worthy old gentleman, 

 and make him believe that he was among those good people, whose 

 gaiety he loved, and for whose presence he thirsted. 



As soon as Delille descended from the carriage, he was saluted by the 

 porter, who was let into the secret with the cry of " Veut i des huitres ? 

 C'est du tout frais, du vrai Cancale."* " Certainly, certainly," cried the 

 poet in the joyful delusion of the moment, " I will refuse nothing 

 to-day/' 



He mounted the stairs, and, after traversing, by means of the arm of 

 his friend, a large saloon, in which more than sixty persons were assem- 

 bled, and all of whom seemed in earnest conversation, the blind poet 

 cried out to his friend, 



.?.arr *J.'i 3<hun o miii * 



i<''* A ivy oysters wanted : they are all fresh, real Cancale. 



