Heine and Mathilde

The love story of Heine and his Mathilde is another of those stories which fix a type of loving.  It is the love of a man of the most brilliant genius, the most relentless, mocking intellect, for a simple, pretty woman,

who could no more understand him than a cow can understand a comet.  Many men of genius have loved just such women, and world, of course, has wondered.  How is it that men of genius prefer some little Mathilde, when the presidents of so many women's
clubs are theirs for asking?  Perhaps the problem is not so difficult as, at first sight, it may seem.  After all, a man of genius is much like other men.  He is no more anxious than any other man to marry an encyclopedia, or a university degree.  And, more than
most men, he is fitted to realize mysterious importance and satisfaction of simple beauty--though it may go quite unaccompanied by "intellectual" conversation--and the value of simple woman-goodness, the woman-goodness that orders a household so
skillfully that your home is a work of art, woman-goodness that glories in that "simple" thing we call motherhood, the woman-goodness that is almost happy when you are ill because it will be so wonderful to nurse you.  Superior persons often smile at these Mathildes of great.  They have smiled no little at Mathilde Crescence Mirat; but
he who was perhaps the greatest mocker that ever lived knew better than to laugh at Mathilde.  The abysses of his brain no one can, or even dare, explore--but, listen as we will at the door of that infernal pit of laughter, we shall hear no laugh against his faithful
little Mathilde.  It is not at Mathilde he laughs, but at precious little blue-stocking, who freshened the last months of his life with a final infatuation--that still unidentified "Camille Selden" whom he playfully called "la Mouche."
"La Mouche," naturally, had a very poor opinion of Madame Heine, and you need not be a cynic to enjoy this passage with which she opens her famous remembrances of "The Last Days of Heinrich Heine":
"When I first saw Heinrich Heine he lived on the fifth floor of a house situated on Avenue Matignon, not far from the Rond-Point of the Champs-Elysees.  His windows, overlooking the avenue, opened on a narrow balcony, covered in hot weather with a striped linen awning, such as appears in front of small cafes.  apartments consisted of three or four rooms--the dining-room and two rooms used by the master and mistress of the house.  A very low couch, behind a screen