You are a true warrior. You deserve to be in the Sacred Legions. You
have the blind faith of friendship, which implies the true statesman
(sic).
But, good recluse, you have not read Sainte-Beuve's famous article on
the Academy and the candidateships. This has been the talk for a week,
and of necessity it has re-echoed violently in the Academy.
Maxime du Camp told me that I was disgraced, but I am persisting in
paying my visits, although certain academicians have declared (can it
be really true?) that they would not even receive me at their houses.
I have committed a rash action of which I do not repent. Even if I
should not obtain a single vote, I shall not repent of it. An election
takes place on February 6th, but it is from the last one (Lacordaire,
February 20th) that I shall try to snatch two or three votes. I think
of myself alone (at least if it comes to a reasonable candidateship)
in front of the ridiculous little Prince du Broglie, son of the duke,
living academician. These people will end by electing their concierges,
and those concierges are Orleanists.
Doubtless, we shall see each other soon. I dream always of solitude,
and if I go away before your return I will pay you a visit for some
hours down there.
How is it that you have not guessed that Baudelaire would rather
be Auguste Barbier, Théophile Gautier, Banville, Flaubert, Leconte
de Lisle--that is to say, pure literature? That was understood
immediately by a few friends, and has gained me some sympathy.
Thank you and yours always.
Have you noticed that to write with a steel pen is like walking on
unsteady stones with sabots?
_Baudelaire to Flaubert_