If genius is, as is commonly believed, a sort of aberration of great
minds, then Algernon Charles Swinburne is undoubtedly a genius.

Great minds that are healthy are never considered geniuses, while this
sublime qualification is lavished on brains that are often inferior but
are slightly touched by madness.

At any rate, this poet remains one of the first of his time, through his
originality and polished form. He is an exalted lyrical singer who seldom
bothers about the good and humble truth, which French poets are now
seeking so persistently and patiently. He strives to set down dreams,
subtle thoughts, sometimes great, sometimes visibly forced, but sometimes
magnificent.

Two years later I found the house closed and its tenants gone. The
furniture was being sold. In memory of them I bought the hideous flayed
hand. On the grass an enormous square block of granite bore this simple
word: "Nip." Above this a hollow stone offered water to the birds. It was
the grave of the monkey, who had been hanged by a young, vindictive negro
servant. It was said that this violent domestic had been forced to flee
at the point of his exasperated master's revolver. After wandering about
without home or food for several days, he returned and began to peddle
barley-sugar in the streets. He was expelled from the country after he
had almost strangled a displeased customer.

The world would be gayer if one could often meet homes like that.

This story appeared in the "Gaulois," November 29, 1882. It was the
original sketch for the introductory study of Swinburne, written by
Maupassant for the French translation by Gabriel Mourey of "Poems