LXX. TO GUSTAVE FLAUBERT, at Croisset
Nohant, 27 October, 1867
I have just made a resume in a few pages of my impressions as a
landscape painter, gathered in Normandy: it has not much importance,
but I was able to quote three lines from Salammbo, which seemed to
me to depict the country better than all my phrases, and which had
always struck me as a stroke from a master brush. In turning over
the pages to find these lines, I naturally reread almost all, and I
remain convinced that it is one of the most beautiful books that
have been made since they began to make books.
I am well, and I am working quickly and much, so as to live on my
INCOME this winter in the South. But what will be the delights of
Cannes and where will be the heart to engage in them? My spirits are
in mourning while thinking that at this hour people arc fighting for
the pope. Ah! ISIDORE! [Footnote: Name applied to Napoleon III.]
I have tried in vain this month to go again to see ma Normandie,
that is to say, my great, dear heart's friend. My children have
threatened me with death if I leave them so soon. Just at present
friends are coming. You are the only one who does not talk of
coming on. Yet, that would be so fine! Next month I shall move
heaven and earth to find you wherever you are, and meanwhile I love
you tremendously. And you. Your work? your mother's health? I am
worried at not having news of you.