when Art emerges from an orgy? Oh! poet, painter, and singer, lover of
splendid ceremonies and protector of the arts, was thy friendship for
art perchance a caprice, that so thou shouldst sleep beneath
magnificent canopies? Was there not a day when, in thy fantastic
pride, though chastity and humility were prescribed to thee, thou
hadst brought all things beneath thy feet, and set thy foot on the
necks of princes; when earthly dominion, and wealth, and the mind of
man bore thy yoke? Exulting in the abasement of humanity, joying to
witness the uttermost lengths to which man's folly would go, thou hast
bidden thy lovers walk on all fours, and required of them their lands
and wealth, nay, even their wives if they were worth aught to thee.
Thou hast devoured millions of men without a cause; thou hast flung
away lives like sand blown by the wind from West to East. Thou hast
come down from the heights of thought to sit among the kings of men.
Woman! instead of comforting men, thou hast tormented and afflicted
them! Knowing that thou couldst ask and have, thou hast demanded
--blood! A little flour surely should have contented thee, accustomed
as thou hast been to live on bread and to mingle water with thy wine.
Unlike all others in all things, formerly thou wouldst bid thy lovers
fast, and they obeyed. Why should thy fancies have led thee to require
things impossible? Why, like a courtesan spoiled by her lovers, hast
thou doted on follies, and left those undeceived who sought to explain
and justify all thy errors? Then came the days of thy later passions,
terrible like the love of a woman of forty years, with a fierce cry
thou hast sought to clasp the whole universe in one last embrace--and
thy universe recoiled from thee!

"Then old men succeeded to thy young lovers; decrepitude came to thy
feet and made thee hideous. Yet, even then, men with the eagle power
of vision said to thee in a glance, 'Thou shalt perish ingloriously,