Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1926-07-30

Let no one envy, but rather pity
US, for In the following manner does
the literary man differ from his fell
low creatures" says Guy de Maupas
SAINT, in the third chapter of his book
EN- Mere" translated into English
under the title "Afioat."
What follows constitutes perhaps
the most outspoken revelation on the
part of writer Of the way a writer
feels in the whole history Of the
worlds literature, and is of interest
to every reader as we'll as writer, for
there is not much difference between
readers and writer's, after alex
cept--
Well, the exception comes in, the
way pointed out by the brilliant, un
happy French writer, whose short
stories are perfect, in their way, much
more SO than those Of our own gifted
o. Henry or E. A. Poe.
De MaupasSant was aboard his
yacht, the Bel-Arni, unable to go to
sleep. Not motion, not a sound, he
says, could be heard, near or far
nothing but the breathing of the two
sailors through the thin bulkhead.
Suddenly something grated - and
the tone--tender, plaintiye and mourn
ful--of the sound sent thrill through
him. Through 80 out out of hundred
persons 1t would have sent no thrill
1t would not even have been noticed
This sensitive man, however, felt as
if "a jagged blade were saving at his
heart"
1t was cruel though familiar
voice. a voice expected, and full
of desperation. ut had power tC
awake the horrible distress which lies
slumbering in the inmost heart OF
every living man." continues, de Mau
PEASANT.
What was 1t?
The French genius, who laboret
long and faithfully to make words dt
his bidding, answered no further thar
to say ut was the voice ringing witt
reproaches which torture our soul
clamoring ceaSelessly, obscure, pain
full, harassing; voice, unappeasablt
and mysterious, which will not be ig
nored, ferocious in it's reproaches FOL
what we have done, as well as Wha1
we have left undone; the voice of re
morse and useless regrets for thf
days gone BY
1T spoke TO me in that short whis
per-of all ! would have loved, of al
that / had vaguely desired, expected
dreamed Of all that l would have
longed 10 see. to understand, to know
to taste; all that my Unsuitable, poor
and weak spirit has touched upor
with a useless hope, all that tswarc
which 1t had been tempted to soar
without being able to tear asundei
the chains of ignorance that held it.
From whence, therefore, arises
this anguish at living. since to tbs
generality of men it only brings sat
isfaction? Wherefore this unknown
torture which preys upon me? Why
should l know the reality of pleasure
expectation and possession"
Certainly, there is a valid question
L. a man ever put one. From one
standpoint there is not much differ
ence, after all, between readers anc
writer's, but from another
There's the question!
One writes, nine understand. and
one utterly fails to grasp what the
writer was aiming at. If the nine
fail to inform him of their pleasure
and the one says it with brickbats.
what Is the sensitive writer to think
why should ] not know the real
ity of pleasure, expectation and pos
session." asked de Maupassant, anc
goes on to answer it himself, since
one can always answer his own ques
lions best.
II +
ut is because l carry within me
that second sight, which is at the
same time the power and despair OF
writer's" he says, putting into words
the creed of all writers, if their secret
heart were barred as he bares his.
II write because | understand anc
suffer from all that is, because