Urien's Voyage by André Gide Page B

far from the mark if we concluded that during the last years of his life he achieved the ideals formulated during the first, realizing thereby the perfect life defined by Valéry, whom he was fond of quoting: “a dream of youth brought to fruition in maturity.”
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    I have tried through occasional notes to call attention to relevant biographical details or statements from Gide’s other writings. A more ambitious undertaking would probably illuminate the substratum of superstitions, myths and legends on which Gide erected his art. Names, numbers, episodes, events and a host of striking metaphors suggest a skillful blend of ingredients drawn from diverse cultures—Hellenic, Roman, Celtic, Germanic, Christian and Moslem, to name only the most obvious. It is my hope that the suggestions made here and in the notes that follow will stimulate further interest in this work and in its place in Gide’s art.
    In more than a few instances I have borrowed freely from Harold March’s exemplary work, Gide and the Hound of Heaven (University of Pennsylvania Press, 1952). I wish also to acknowledge my indebtedness to my colleagues whose efforts are reflected in the foregoing remarks and in the translation of Gide’s allegory: Dr. Margaret C. O’Riley, Professor Mildred Riling, and Mrs. Helen Scroggins.
    W ADE B ASKIN
    Southeastern State College

I
    When the bitter night of thought, study and theological ecstasy came to an end, my steadfast soul, tortured since nightfall by loneliness, sensed the approach of dawn and stirred uneasily. Without my noticing it, my lamp had gone out; my casement had opened to the dawn. I moistened my brow with the dew from the panes, and relegating to the past my spent revery, I gazed toward the dawn and ventured into the narrow vale of metempsychoses. *
    Dawns! Dreams of memories of maritime wonders and oriental splendors which by night infused our wearisome study with longing for travel! Long had I wandered as if in a dream through a tragic valley, searching for exotic breezes and sounds, when finally I was overjoyed by the sight of towering rocks and a blue sea.
    O sea eternal, I thought, shall we sail across these waves to our unknown destiny? Will our tender souls test their valor?
    Awaiting me on the shore were my fellow pilgrims; I recognized them all but without knowing whether I had seen them somewhere before; our virtues were the same. The sun had already risen high above the sea. They had arrived at dawn and were watching the waves rise. I excused myself for being late; they forgave me, thinking that I had been detained along the way by certain dogmatic subtleties and scruples; then they reproached me for having reservations about consenting to come. As I was the last one and they were expecting no one else, we made our way toward the town with the great port where ships weigh anchor. Loud noises that emanated from there came to us on the shore.
    The town that was to be our place of embarcation in the evening was vibrating from the sunshine, from loud noises and sounds of merry-making, from the white heat of high noon. The marbled quays burned our sandals; the festivities offered a medley of colors. Two ships had arrived the previous day, one from Norway and the other from the enchanting Antilles; and the crowd was hurrying to view the arrival of a third, a majestic ship, as it came into the port. It came from Syria, laden with slaves, nuggets, and bales of purple. There was much hurrying and scurrying on the deck; shouts of the crew were heard. From the top of the masts some sailors were loosening cords while others, near the waves, were throwing out ropes; the folds of flattened sails were hanging from the main yards, where oriflammes were displayed. The sea, on the shoreward side, was not deep enough to allow the ship to approach the quay; boats went out to the ship and first brought back the slaves; and as soon as they had been set