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Alfred De Musset

Alfred Louis Charles de Musset-Pathay (11 December 1810 – 2 May 1857) was a French dramatist, poet, and novelist. Along with his poetry, he is known for writing La Confession d'un enfant du siècle (The Confession of a Child of the Century, autobiographical) from 1836.

Musset was born on 11 December 1810 in Paris. His family was upper-class but poor and his father worked in various key government positions, but never gave his son any money. His mother was similarly accomplished, and her role as a society hostess, - for example her drawing-room parties, luncheons, and dinners, held in the Musset residence - left a lasting impression on young Alfred.

Early indications of Musset's boyhood talents were seen by his fondness for acting impromptu mini-plays based upon episodes from old romance stories he had read. Years later, elder brother Paul de Musset would preserve these, and many other details, for posterity, in a biography on his famous younger brother.

Alfred de Musset entered the collège Henri IV at the age of nine, where in 1827 he won the Latin essay prize in the Concours général. With the help of Paul Foucher, Victor Hugo's brother-in-law, he began to attend, at the age of 17, the Cénacle, the literary salon of Charles Nodier at the Bibliothèque de l'Arsenal. After attempts at careers in medicine (which he gave up owing to a distaste for dissections), law, drawing, English and piano, he became one of the first Romantic writers, with his first collection of poems, Contes d'Espagne et d'Italie (1829, Tales of Spain and Italy). By the time he reached the age of 20, his rising literary fame was already accompanied by a sulphurous reputation fed by his dandy side.

He was the librarian of the French Ministry of the Interior under the July Monarchy. During this time he also involved himself in polemics during the Rhine crisis of 1840, caused by the French prime minister Adolphe Thiers, who as Minister of the Interior had been Musset's superior. Thiers had demanded that France should own the left bank of the Rhine (described as France's "natural boundary"), as it had under Napoleon, despite the territory's German population. These demands were rejected by German songs and poems, including Nikolaus Becker's Rheinlied, which contained the verse: "Sie sollen ihn nicht haben, den freien, deutschen Rhein ..." (They shall not have it, the free, German Rhine). Musset answered to this with a poem of his own: "Nous l'avons eu, votre Rhin allemand" (We've had it, your German Rhine).

The tale of his celebrated love affair with George Sand, which lasted from 1833 to 1835, is told from his point of view in his autobiographical novel, La Confession d'un Enfant du Siècle (The Confession of a Child of the Century, made into a film, Children of the Century), and from her point of view in her Elle et lui. Musset's Nuits (1835–1837, Nights) trace his emotional upheaval of his love for George Sand, from early despair to final resignation. He is also believed to be the author of Gamiani, or Two Nights of Excess (1833), a lesbian erotic novel, also believed to be modeled on George Sand.

Tomb of Alfred de Musset in Père Lachaise Cemetery

Musset was dismissed from his post as librarian by the new minister Ledru-Rollin after the revolution of 1848. He was however appointed librarian of the Ministry of Public Instruction in 1853.

Musset received the Légion d'honneur on 24 April 1845, at the same time as Balzac, and was elected to the Académie française in 1852 (after two failures to do so in 1848 and 1850).

Alfred de Musset died in his sleep on 2 May 1857. The cause was heart failure, the combination of alcoholism and a longstanding aortic insufficiency. One symptom that had been noticed by his brother was a bobbing of the head as a result of the amplification of the pulse; this was later called de Musset's sign. He was buried in Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris.


“L’homme sans patience, c’est comme une lampe sans huile.”
Alfred De Musset
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“A happy memory is perhaps on this earth truer than happiness itself.”
Alfred De Musset
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“I dolori passeggeri bestemmiano e accusano il cielo; i grandi dolori non accusano nè bestemmiano. Ascoltano.”
Alfred De Musset
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“L'humanité souleva sa robe et me montra, comme à un adepte digne d'elle, sa monstrueuse nudité.”
Alfred De Musset
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“L'homme est un apprenti, la douleur est son maître. Et nul ne se connaît tant qu'il n'a pas souffert. C'est une dure loi, mais une loi suprême, vieille comme le monde et la fatalité, qu'il nous faut du malheur recevoir le baptême et qu'à ce triste prix tout doit être acheté...”
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“I deeply wished I could make the stars all come down and breathe them; disappear in them”
Alfred De Musset
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“Quelquefois, il y a des sympathies si réelles que, se rencontrant pour la première fois, on semble se retrouver.”
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“LE PRINCEEst-ce de l’époux ou de l’amant que vous avez peur ?LAURETTEC’est de la nuit.LE PRINCEElle est perfide aussi, mais elle est discrète. Qu’oserez-vous lui confier ?... La réponse au billet ?LAURETTEQu’en dirait-elle ?LE PRINCEElle n’en laissera rien voir à l’époux.Elle lui donne le billet ; il le déchire.Ne la craignez pas, Laurette. Le secret d’une jeune fiancée est fait pour la nuit ; elle seule renferme les deux grands secrets du bonheur : le plaisir et l’oubli.LAURETTEMais le chagrin ?LE PRINCEC’est une réflexion ; et il est si facile de la perdre !LAURETTEEst-ce aussi un secret ?”
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“Non ; cette fois j’ai gagé que je t’emmènerais ; allons, viens, mauvaise tête, et ne trouble le plaisir de personne. Chacun son tour ; c’était hier le tien, aujourd’hui tu es passé de mode ; celui qui ne sait pas se conformer à son sort est aussi fou qu’un vieillard qui fait le jeune homme.”
Alfred De Musset
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“Désespoir ! Ne pourrai-je même jouer ma vie ? ne pourrai-je tenter même le plus désespéré de tous les partis ??!”
Alfred De Musset
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“Je me suis figuré qu’une femme devait faire plus de cas de son âme que de son corps, contre l’usage général qui veut qu’elle permette qu’on l’aime avant d’avouer qu’elle aime, et qu’elle abandonne ainsi le trésor de son coeur avant de consentir à la plus légère prise sur celui de sa beauté. J’ai voulu, oui, voulu absolument tenter de renverser cette marche uniforme ; la nouveauté est ma rage. Ma fantaisie et ma paresse, les seuls dieux dont j’aie jamais encensé les autels, m’ont vainement laissé parcourir le monde, poursuivi par ce bizarre dessein ; rien ne s’offrait à moi. Peut-être je m’explique mal. J’ai eu la singulière idée d’être l’époux d’une femme avant d’être son amant. J’ai voulu voir si réellement il existait une âme assez orgueilleuse pour demeurer fermée lorsque les bras sont ouverts, et livrer la bouche à des baisers muets ; vous concevez que je ne craignais que de trouver cette force à la froideur. Dans toutes les contrées qu’aime le soleil, j’ai cherché les traits les plus capables de révéler qu’une âme ardente y était enfermée : j’ai cherché la beauté dans tout son éclat, cet amour qu’un regard fait naître ; j’ai désiré un visage assez beau pour me faire oublier qu’il était moins beau que l’être invisible qui l’anime ; insensible à tout, j’ai résisté à tout,... excepté à une femme, – à vous, Laurette, qui m’apprenez que je me suis un peu mépris dans mes idées orgueilleuses ; à vous, devant qui je ne voulais soulever le masque qui couvre ici-bas les hommes qu’après être devenu votre époux. – Vous me l’avez arraché, je vous supplie de me pardonner, si j’ai pu vous offenser.( Le prince )”
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“D’ailleurs la mort est toujours là ; n’est-elle pas partout sous les pieds de l’homme, qui la rencontre à chaque pas dans cette vie ? L’eau, le feu, la terre, tout la lui offre sans cesse ; il la voit partout dès qu’il la cherche, il la porte à son côté.”
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“Comment l’homme est-il assez insensé pour quitter cette vie tant qu’il n’a pas épuisé toutes ses chances de bonheur ? Celui qui perd sa fortune au jeu quitte-t-il le tapis tant qu’il lui reste une pièce d’or ? Une seule pièce peut lui rendre tout.”
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“Laurette ! Laurette ! Ah ! je me sens plus lâche qu’une femme. Mon désespoir me tue ; il faut que je pleure. ( RAZETTA )”
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“Mer profonde, heureusement il t’est facile d’éteindre une étincelle. ( RAZETTA )”
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“Quoique bien jeune, j’ai trop connu ce qu’on est convenu d’appeler la vie pour n’avoir pas trouvé au fond de cette mer le mépris de ce qu’on aperçoit à sa surface. ( RAZETTA )”
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“Je comprends. On a placé ta froide main dans la main du vassal insolent, décoré des pouvoirs du maître ; la royale procuration, sanctionnée par l’officieux chapelain de Son Excellence, a réuni aux yeux du monde deux êtres inconnus l’un à l’autre. Je suis au fait de ces cérémonies. Et toi, ton coeur, ta tête, ta vie, marchandés par entremetteurs, tout a été vendu au plus offrant ; une couronne de reine t’a faite esclave pour jamais ; et cependant ton fiancé, enseveli dans les délices d’une cour, attend nonchalamment que sa nouvelle épouse... ( RAZETTA )”
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“Științele sunt un bun de preț dragii mei, dar livezile, copacii ăștia, ne-nvață sus și tare cea mai frumoasă dintre toate științele: uitarea a ceea ce știm.”
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“A Mademoiselle Oui, femmes, quoi qu'on puisse dire,Vous avez le fatal pouvoirDe nous jeter par un sourire Dans l'ivresse ou le désespoir. Oui, deux mots, le silence même,Un regard distrait ou moqueur,Peuvent donner à qui vous aimeUn coup de poignard dans le coeur. Oui, votre orgueil doit être immense,Car, grâce à notre lâcheté,Rien n'égale votre puissance,Sinon votre fragilité. Mais toute puissance sur terreMeurt quand l'abus en est trop grand,Et qui sait souffrir et se taireS'éloigne de vous en pleurant. Quel que soit le mal qu'il endure,Son triste rôle est le plus beau.J'aime encore mieux notre tortureQue votre métier de bourreau.”
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“J'ai perdu ma force et ma vie,Et mes amis et ma gaieté;J'ai perdu jusqu'à la fiertéQui faisait croire à mon génie.Quand j'ai connu la Vérité,J'ai cru que c'était une amie ;Quand je l'ai comprise et sentie,J'en étais déjà dégoûté.Et pourtant elle est éternelle,Et ceux qui se sont passés d'elleIci-bas ont tout ignoré.Dieu parle, il faut qu'on lui réponde.Le seul bien qui me reste au mondeEst d'avoir quelquefois pleuré.”
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“Jusqu'à présent, lecteur, suivant l'antique usage,Je te disais bonjour à la première page.Mon livre, cette fois, se ferme moins gaiement ;En vérité, ce siècle est un mauvais moment.Tout s'en va, les plaisirs et les moeurs d'un autre âge,Les rois, les dieux vaincus, le hasard triomphant,Rosafinde et Suzon qui me trouvent trop sage,Lamartine vieilli qui me traite en enfant.La politique, hélas ! voilà notre misère.Mes meilleurs ennemis me conseillent d'en faire.Être rouge ce soir, blanc demain, ma foi, non.Je veux, quand on m'a lu, qu'on puisse me relire.Si deux noms, par hasard, s'embrouillent sur ma lyre,Ce ne sera jamais que Ninette ou Ninon.”
Alfred De Musset
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“Qui aima jamais porte une cicatrice.”
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“Elle aurait aimé, si l’orgueilPareil à la lampe inutileQu’on allume près d’un cercueil,N’eût veillé sur son coeur stérile.Elle est morte, et n’a point vécu.Elle faisait semblant de vivre.De ses mains est tombé le livre,Dans lequel elle n’a rien lu.”
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“What I need is a woman who is something, anything: either very beautiful or very kind or in the last resort very wicked; very witty or very stupid, but something.”
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“در عشق اغلب اشتباه می کنیم ، اغلب احساسات ما جریحه دار می شود و احساس بد بختی می کنیم. اما عشق می ورزیم و هنگامی که در آستانه مرگیم به عقب بر می گردیم و به خود می گوییم: خیلی رنج کشیده ام، گاهی به بیراهه رفته ام، اما عشق ورزیده ام. پس من زندگی کرده ام، من یک موجود تصنعی ساخته و پرداخته ی غرور و کسالت نیستم زیرا که عاشق بوده ام.”
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“Man is a pupil, pain is his teacher.”
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“he, that same man, after having abandoned her, finds her after a night of orgie, pale and leaden, forever lost, with hunger on her lips and prostitution in her heart.”
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“What a frightful weapon is human thought! It is our defense and our safeguard, the most precious gift that God has made us. It is ours and it obeys us; we may launch it forth into space, but, once outside of our feeble brains, it is gone; we can no longer control it. ”
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“As soon as we entered I plunged into the giddy whirl of the waltz. That delightful exercise has always been dear to me; I know of nothing more beautiful, more worthy of a beautiful woman and a young man; all dances compared with the waltz are but insipid conventions or pretexts for insignificant converse. It is truly to possess a woman, in a certain sense, to hold her for a half hour in your arms, and to draw her on in the dance, palpitating in spite of herself, in such a way that it can not be positively asserted whether she is being protected or seduced. Some deliver themselves up to the pleasure with such modest voluptuousness, with such sweet and pure abandon, that one does not know whether he experiences desire or fear, and whether, if pressed to the heart, they would faint or break in pieces like the rose. Germany, where that dance was invented, is surely the land of love. ”
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“Poets represent love as sculptors design beauty, as musicians create melody; that is to say, endowed with an exquisite nervous organization, they gather up with discerning ardor the purest elements of life, the most beautiful lines of matter, and the most harmonious voices of nature. There lived, it is said, at Athens a great number of beautiful girls; Praxiteles drew them all one after another; then from these diverse types of beauty, each one of which had its defects, he formed a single faultless beauty and created Venus. The man who first created a musical instrument, and who gave to harmony its rules and its laws, had for a long time listened to the murmuring of reeds and the singing of birds. Thus the poets, who understand life, after knowing much of love, more or less transitory, after feeling that sublime exaltation which real passion can for the moment inspire, eliminating from human nature all that degrades it, created the mysterious names which through the ages fly from lip to lip: Daphnis and Chloe, Hero and Leander, Pyramus and Thisbe.To try to find in real life such love as this, eternal and absolute, is but to seek on public squares a woman such as Venus, or to expect nightingales to sing the symphonies of Beethoven.”
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“To give you an idea of my state of mind I can not do better than compare it to one of those rooms we see nowadays in which are collected and mingled the furniture of all times and countries. Our age has no impress of its own. We have impressed the seal of our time neither on our houses nor our gardens, nor on anything that is ours. On the street may be seen men who have their beards trimmed as in the time of Henry III, others who are clean-shaven, others who have their hair arranged as in the time of Raphael, others as in the time of Christ. So the homes of the rich are cabinets of curiosities: the antique, the gothic, the style of the Renaissance, that of Louis XIII, all pell-mell. In short, we have every century except our own—a thing which has never been seen at any other epoch: eclecticism is our taste; we take everything we find, this for beauty, that for utility, another for antiquity, still another for its ugliness even, so that we live surrounded by debris, as if the end of the world were at hand.”
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“It is unfortunately true that there is in blasphemy a certain outlet which solaces the burdened heart. When an atheist, drawing his watch, gave God a quarter of an hour in which to strike him dead, it is certain that it was a quarter of an hour of wrath and of atrocious joy. It was the paroxysm of despair, a nameless appeal to all celestial powers; it was a poor, wretched creature squirming under the foot that was crushing him; it was a loud cry of pain. Who knows? In the eyes of Him who sees all things, it was perhaps a prayer. ”
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“Then came upon a world in ruins an anxious youth. The children were drops of burning blood which had inundated the earth; they were born in the bosom of war, for war. For fifteen years they had dreamed of the snows of Moscow and of the sun of the Pyramids. ”
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“During the wars of the Empire, while husbands and brothers were in Germany, anxious mothers gave birth to an ardent, pale, and neurotic generation. Conceived between battles, reared amid the noises of war, thousands of children looked about them with dull eyes while testing their limp muscles. From time to time their blood-stained fathers would appear, raise them to their gold-laced bosoms, then place them on the ground and remount their horses. ”
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“Three elements entered into the life which offered itself to these children: behind them a past forever destroyed, still quivering on its ruins with all the fossils of centuries of absolutism; before them the aurora of an immense horizon, the first gleams of the future; and between these two worlds--like the ocean which separates the Old World from the New--something vague and floating, a troubled sea filled with wreckage, traversed from time to time by some distant sail or some ship trailing thick clouds of smoke; the present, in a word, which separates the past from the future, which is neither the one nor the other, which resembles both, and where one can not know whether, at each step, one treads on living matter or on dead refuse.”
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“Is is true that dictators never dream because they can change their smallest fantasies into realities if they want to?”
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“You’re like a lighthouse shining beside the sea of humanity, motionless: all you can see is your own reflection in the water. You’re alone, so you think it’s a vast, magnificent panorama. You haven’t sounded the depths. You simply believe in the beauty of God’s creation. But I have spent all this time in the water, diving deep into the howling ocean of life, deeper than anyone. While you were admiring the surface, I saw the shipwrecks, the drowned bodies, the monsters of the deep”
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“There are temptations more attractive than angels. Liberty, Patriotism, the good of humanity – words like that are the silver scales of the Tempter’s flaming wings”
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“Look at the sun! It’s dry, it’s dead, it needs a drink, it wants blood! And I’ll give it blood!”
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“The blood of my motherland waters a magic plant that cures all ills. That plant is art, and sometimes art needs corruption as a kind of fertilizer”
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“Nothing is a sin when you obey the orders of a priest”
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“Romanticism is the abuse of adjectives”
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“If love is a play, this play, as old as the world, fiasco or not, it is, all in all, the least bad thing that has so far been found. The roles are trite, I admit, but if the play had no value the whole universe wouldn’t know it by heart”
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“Alas, everything that men say to one another is alike; the ideas they exchange are almost always the same, in their conversation. But inside all those isolated machines, what hidden recesses, what secret compartments! It is an entire world that each one carries within him, an unknown world that is born and dies in silence! What solitudes all these human bodies are!”
Alfred De Musset
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“How glorious it is – and also how painful – to be an exception. ”
Alfred De Musset
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“el beso es el contacto de dos epidermis y la fusion de dos fantasias...”
Alfred De Musset
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“The heart that once has been your shrine for other loves is too divine”
Alfred De Musset
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“life is a deep sleep of which love is the dream”
Alfred De Musset
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