Ah, the passion!

This semester, I'm taking a course on cultural and artistic exchanges between the U.S. and France. For this week's seminar we're reading a story called Atala, or the love of two savages in the wilderness by François-René de Chateaubriand, published in 1801. You could check out the Wikipedia page for a summary of the story if you care enough, but the purpose of this post is to share some really great quotes.

Chateaubriand is considered a key figure in French Romanticism and his writing is accordingly passionate. Reading this story made my heart ache and burn and flutter tour à tour. I often claim poor emotive powers, but I guess it just takes the right provocation, like these:

"Qu'ils sont incompréhensibles les mortels agités par les passions!" ("Ah, how incomprehensible are mortals driven by passion!")

"Connaissez-vous le coeur de l'homme, et pourriez-vous compter les inconstances de son désir? Vous calculeriez plutôt le nombre des vagues que la mer roule dans une temptête." ("Do you know the heart of man, and could you count the inconstancies of his desire? It would be easier to count the waves of the sea in a storm.")

This is an idea I've gotten a bit fixated on lately. (1) We do crazy things when driven by our emotions and passions [and look, I don't mean passions in a moralizing way - there is a place for passion in this world. I mean the way MADD are passionate about drunk driving laws, or how a thinker will go into a passionate frenzy of words over a new idea]. (2) Those emotions are always changing [at least mine are!].

I'm also pretty sure these things aren't just symptoms of youth - why else would the cultural phenomenon of Mid-life Crisis exist, or my dear Rosemarie, age 85, still sing with such emotion? Maybe as we get older we learn to better deal with [read: control or maybe even repress] with the emotions "qui nous balancent" - that swing and sway us. I don't want to think passion is something dictated by hormones and that fades with time. I hope I'm just as passionate about Chateaubriand when I'm old and gray.

As a consolation to the germanophones, I'll include that song Rosemarie sings in this very francophilic post:

"Rose-Marie, Rose-Marie
Sieben Jahre mein Herz nach Dir schrie
Rose-Marie, Rose-Marie
Aber du hörtest es nie.

Jedwede Nacht, jedwede Nacht
Hat mir im Traume dein Bild zugelacht
Kam dann der Tag, kam dann der Tag
Wieder alleine ich lag.

Jetzt bin ich alt, jetzt bin ich alt
Aber mein Herz ist noch immer nicht kalt
Schläft's uns schon bald
Schläft's uns schon bald
Doch bis zuletzt es noch hallt.

Rose-Marie, Rose-Marie
Sieben Jahre mein Herz nach Dir schrie
Rose-Marie Rose-Marie
Aber du hörtest es nie."

Ah, my heart!

LATER:

More from Chateaubriand. Wow, this stuff really gets to me - my poor little heart is palpitating.

"Croyez-moi, mon fils, les douleurs ne sont point éternelles; il faut tôt ou tard qu'elles finissent, parce que le coeur de l'homme est fini; c'est une de nos grandes misères: nous ne sommes pas même capables d'être longtemps malheureux." ("Believe me, my son, suffering is in no way eternal; it must end sooner or later, because the heart of man is finite. It is one of our great miseries: we are not even capable of being unhappy for a long time.")

Thank goodness.