Le Roman de la Rose

“ But they, beyond all question, contain also the first complete presentation of a scheme, a mode, an atmosphere, which for centuries enchained, because they expressed, the poetical thought of the time, and which, for those who can reach the right point of view, can develop the right organs of appreciation, possess an extraordinary, indeed a unique charm. I should rank this first part of the Roman de la Rose high among the books which if a man does not appreciate he cannot even distantly understand the Middle Ages ”

“ The cost of roses thus delivered in Rome must have been immense, but we do not find a single passage in any of the ancient authors which can give any light on this point; they only tell us that nothing for the gratification of luxury was considered too costly by the wealthy Roman citizens. Nor do they afford more positive information as to the species of Rose cultivated on the borders of the Nile, to gratify this taste of the Romans. ”

“ Romance of the Rose, a poetical allegory, begun by Guillaume di Lorris in the latter part of the thirteenth century, and continued by Jean de Meung in the former half of the fourteenth century. The poet dreams that Dame Idleness conducts him to the palace of Pleasure, where he meets Love, whose attendant maidens are Sweet-looks, Courtesy, Youth, Joy, and Competence, by whom he is conducted to a bed of roses. He singles out one, when an arrow from Love’s bow stretches him fainting on the ground, and he is carried off. ”

“ Art thou heir to roses dead— Roses that their petals shed In the winds of long ago? Who bequeathed to thee the glow Of thy perfect, radiant heart? What proud queen of fire and snow Lived to make thee what thou art?
Who gave thee thy nameless grace And the beauty of thy face, Touched thy lips with fragrant wine, Pledging thee in cups divine? On some long-forgotten day, When earth kept glad holiday, One bright rose was born, I think, Dewy, sweet, and soft and pink— Born, more blest than others are, To be thy progenitor! ”

“ Her beauty, her grace, her tenderness, now that they are utterly beyond reach, are tenfold enticing; and in that other sphere to which, in his night revery, they seem translated, the joyous face of Rose, like that of an attendant angel, looks down regretfully, full of a capacity for love to which he must be a stranger. ”

“ Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odors made.
For twenty-seven centuries—and more—the rose has been considered queen of flowers. Her perfume, her color, her elegance, and her mystic fascination have won all hearts. Shakespeare says: "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." In one sense that is true; but we would not be willing to try another title, for the very word rose is a beautiful one and conjures up a particular and very special vision of sweetness and beauty. ”

“ The Rose is written on a lofty plane of literary value, and the fact that it was so popular, speaks well for the taste of the times and for the enthusiasm of the people for the more serious forms of literature. Not that the Romance of the Rose is a very serious book itself, but if we compare it with the popular publications which barely touch the realities of life in the modern time, it will seem eminently serious. ”

“ Volumes have been written, and many more may still be written, on the delights of the Rose, but my present business is only with the Roses of Shakespeare. In many of the above passages the Rose is simply the emblem of all that is loveliest and brightest and most beautiful upon earth, yet always with the underlying sentiment that even the brightest has its dark side, as the Rose has its thorns; that the worthiest objects of our earthly love are at the very best but short-lived; that the most beautiful has on it the doom of decay and death. ”

“ Being dedicated to the goddess of beauty and god of love, the Rose often plays her part in the tender and sentimental scenes so especially patronized by those tutelar divinities, and many an oft-used but still current simile is drawn from the blushing hue, the surpassing loveliness, and the cruel thorns of the fair emblem-flower. ”

“ Is it any marvel now that round the visible object should associate tributary feelings of pleasure? How many pleasing and tender sentiments gather round the rose! Yet the rose is beautiful in itself. It was beautiful to the child by its colour, its texture, its softly-shaded leaf, and the contrast between the flower and the foliage. Love, and poetry, and the tender regrets of advanced life, have contributed a second dower of beauty. The rose is more to the youth and to the old man than it was to the child; but still to the last they both feel the pleasure of the child. ”

“ Every instinct of the Spanish nature was aflame with resentment. Loathing for Charles IV., his Queen, and their favourite, whom Napoleon richly dowered, love of the young King whom he falsely filched away, detestation of the French troops who outraged the rights of hospitality, and zeal for the Roman Catholic Church, whose chief had just been robbed of half his States, goaded the Spaniards to madness. ”

“ Who, in cultivating roses, has not spiritually felt the better for it? The subtlety of its fragrance, the grace of its form, the perfect harmony of its tones appeal to the imagination like music to the soul. In the whole range of nature's variety and completeness nothing so satisfies the idea of perfection as the rose. ”

“ Roses, roses! An interminable chain of these royal blossoms, red and white, wreathed by the radiant fingers of small rainbow-winged creatures as airy as moonlight mist, as delicate as thistledown! They cluster round me with smiling faces and eager eyes; they place the end of their rose-garland in my hand, and whisper, "FOLLOW!" ”

“ The Incorruptible Rose,
‘That drowsily drops faint leaves on him
And the sweetness of desire,
While time and the world are ebbing away
In twilights of dew and of fire.’
[32]
THE SECRET ROSE
Far off, most secret, and inviolate Rose,
Enfold me in my hour of hours; where those
Who sought thee in the Holy Sepulchre,
Or in the wine vat, dwell beyond the stir
And tumult of defeated dreams; and deep
Among pale eyelids, heavy with the sleep
Men have named beauty. Thy great leaves enfold
The ancient beards, the helms of ruby and gold
Of the crowned Magi ”

“ The masterful energy and all-conquering will of the old Roman, his keen insight into the heart of a problem, the wide sweep of his mental vision, ranging over the intrigues of the Roman Senate, the shifting politics of a score of tribes, and the myriad administrative details of a great army and a mighty province—these were the qualities that furnished the chief mental training to the young cadet. Indeed, the career of Cæsar was destined to exert a singular fascination over the Napoleonic dynasty, not only on its founder, but also on Napoleon III. ”

“ THE ROSE TO THE ROSE UPON THE ROOD OF TIME
Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days!
Come near me, while I sing the ancient ways:
Cuchulain battling with the bitter tide;
The Druid, gray, wood-nurtured, quiet-eyed,
Who cast round Fergus dreams, and ruin untold;
And thine own sadness, whereof stars, grown old
In dancing silver-sandalled on the sea,
Sing in their high and lonely melody.
Come near, that no more blinded by man’s fate,
I find under the boughs of love and hate,
In all poor foolish things that live a day,
Eternal beauty wandering on her way. ”

“ There is required for the growing of roses in their perfection a something that is not to be found in books. “Poets are born, not made” it is said, and there is somewhat of the same truth in this matter of growing roses. The perfection of the art is the outcome of a devotion that ever burns but never consumes. Deep down in the secret chambers of the heart it is continually glowing, and when to other eyes the rose is no longer a thing of beauty, in the days of the “sere and yellow leaf,” it waits tenderly and lovingly upon the object of its devotion. ”

“ Let her breathe in her fragrance of the far times when millions in a strange and busy age now forgotten thronged rose-garlanded to the temples; when, bearing roses, they gathered to wild worship at the Feast of the New Moon, under shady groves or in picturesque high places among the ancient rocks. Rose-breathing, rose-perfumed, amid sweetest music and black Assyrian eyes, in the gliding dance under thousands of brazen serpent lamps, or far in dusky fragrant forests, they adored the Rose Queen—the very visible spirit and incarnation of nature in her loveliest form. ”

“ As a general rule, roses massed together, in garlands, in baskets, or thickly growing, are the symbols of heavenly joys, and single roses are the symbols of divine love. But there is one single rose which is also the symbol of joy—it is the golden rose which is the gift of the Popes. ”

“ To-day I have put by the prodigious achievements of human art, and am living in the supreme hour of the rose. The town is ablaze with roses; the very streets and houses breathe them to my nostrils. For I have risen with the whimsey in my head, and all Nature is one blushing rose. The air is scented with the summer rain; the squares are joyous. There comes my mistress with a red rose at her bosom this merry morning. Drops sparkle between the petals; she wears the first white garment of the year; everywhere is a rose—a rose. ”

“ Of a triptych, called the "Life of Roses," exhibited at the Salon des Artistes Français, 1903, Jules de Saint Hilaire writes: "Mme. Faux-Froidure was inspired when she painted her charming triptych of 'Rose Life.' In the compartment on the left the roses are twined in a crown resembling those worn in processions; in the centre, in all its dazzling beauty, the red rose, the rose of love, is enthroned; while the panel on the right is consecrated to the faded rose—the souvenir rose, shrivelled, and lying beside the little casket which it still perfumes with its old-time sweetness." ”

“ Among the various riches of the garden, there are many flowers of great attractions: some we admire for their beautiful forms, others for their brilliant colors, and others again for their delightful fragrance; and we scarcely know which to pronounce the most pleasing. But whatever may be our feelings of admiration for these beautiful flowers, a desire for something still more beautiful draws us to the Rose, and compels us to pronounce it superior to all its rivals. It is the Rose alone that never fatigues, that always exhibits some new beauty, and that is never affected by fashion ”

“ Do you think that our Clovelly roses have come to be of themselves? Do you think that the actual hurt of [Pg 289] their beauty—the restless, nameless quest that comes spurring to our hearts from their silent leaning over the rim of a vase—is nothing more than a product of soil and sun? Has their great giving to human romances been dead as moonlight? Have roses taken nothing in return?... I would not insist before the world that the form and fragrance and texture of the rose has come to be from the magnetisms of lovers, but we of the Chapel may think as we will. That liberty is our first law. ”

“ The mistress passed on to the queen of the garden, La Rosiere, fragrant beyond all other roses, its reflexed, claret-coloured petals soft and velvety, its leaves—when did a rose’s greenery fail to be its perfect complement?—tinged underneath with a faint blush of its own deep colour. ”

“ To thee the roses belong, thy voice is the nightingale's song:
Give thou the rose a kiss, it blushes like thy mouth's bliss:
Flowers in a picture seem not flowers, but flowers in a dream:
Who paints the rose's bloom, paints not the rose's perfume.
In complete contrast to this conceited and euphuistic style of composition stands a slight snatch of rustic melody, consisting of little but reiteration and refrain. ”

“ Miss Florence—yes, I knew you would feel so, mother. Does it not make your head feel better to see such a beautiful flower? Now you will not look so longingly at the flowers in the market, for we have a rose that is handsomer than any of them. Why, it seems to me it is worth as much to us as our whole little garden used to be. Only see how many buds there are! ”

“ All my heart was set aflame
As we walked through Cupid’s bowers;
Know you whence the roses came?
Is it sweetness—is it shame—
When the sunshine’s spoiled by showers?
Rose is my beloved’s name.
Duty sits a stern old dame
On a throne of ruined towers;
Know you whence the roses came?
Youth must live and who shall blame
If with love it pass the hours?
Rose is my beloved’s name.
Life and love is all a game,
Shine and shadow—gleams and glowers—
Know you whence the roses came?
Rose is my beloved’s name.
{46}
A SEA DREAM.
My spirit wandered by the ocean shore ”

“ Under roses slept the maiden Rosa, And a rose fell down and waken'd Rosa; To the flower-rose, said the maiden Rosa— "Rose of mine! O fall, not on the maiden, I am in no tune of soul to love thee, For a heavy grief o'erwhelms my spirit; Youth would have me—but old age hath won me. An old bridegroom is a worthless maple; When the wind is up it faints and trembles; When the rain descends, decay decays it: But a young bride, is a roselet budding; When the wind is up, its fair leaves open, When the rain descends, it shines in beauty,— When the sun comes forth, it smiles and glories." ”

“ What blossoms could bloom on the breast of the youthful beauty so typical of the infinity of hope, and sweet thoughts that lie folded up in her own heart, as fair young rose buds? What wreath could so lovingly encircle the head of the bride, as that of white roses, full of purity and grace? And, last of all, what blossoms, so expressive of human affections, could we find at the bier, to take the place of the rose? ”