PARIS, _March 21_.
DEAR FRIEND: I thank you for your letter. Since my return to Paris, I
have been completely besotted. There was, in the first place, our
exhibition in the Senate, where like M. Jourdain, I may say that never
have I been so satiated with silliness. Everybody had in reserve a
discourse to which he had to give utterance. So strong is the contagion
of example, that I delivered my speech in a free-and-easy way, without
the slightest preparation, like M. Robert Houdin. I was terribly
frightened, but succeeded in overcoming it by saying to myself that I
was in the presence of two hundred imbeciles, and that there was no
occasion to be nervous. The joke was that M. Walewski, to whom I wished
to give a fine budget, took offence because I praised his predecessor,
and declared openly that he had voted against my proposition.
M. Troplong, beside whom I was seated in my position as secretary,
whispered to me his condolences; to which I replied that a minister who
is not thirsty can not be compelled to drink. This was repeated
immediately to M. Walewski, who took it for an epigram, and who since
then has scowled on me, which has not prevented me from going my own
gait.
The second vexation of the present time is to dine out, officially or
otherwise, on the same fish, the same filet, the same lobster, and so
on, and even the same persons, all as tiresome as they were the last
time.
But the climax of vexations is Catholicism. You can not conceive of the
degree of exasperation which the Catholics have reached. For nothing at
all they jump on you--for instance, if you do not, at the mention of the
holy martyr, show all the whites of your eyes, and if you ask quite
_innocently_, as I did, who had suffered martyrdom.
I brought on myself another unfortunate affair in expressing surprise
that the queen of Naples had had her photograph taken in boots. It is an
exaggeration and an absurdity which surpasses anything which you may
imagine.
A lady asked me the other evening if I had ever seen the empress of
Austria. I said I considered her very pretty. “Ah, she is an ideal
beauty!” “No; she has irregular features, which are more pleasing,
perhaps, than if they mere more regular.” “Ah, monsieur, she is beauty
personified. Tears of admiration come to your eyes!” This is the society
of the present day. I flee from it, therefore, as I should the plague.
What has become of the French society of the past!
A final vexation, but a colossal one, was _Tannhäuser_. Some say the
performance was one of the secret conditions of the Treaty of
Villafranca; others, that Wagner was sent to us in order to force us to
admire Berlioz. The fact is that it is monstrous. It seems to me I might
compose something just as good to-morrow, inspired by my cat walking
over the piano board.
The performance was very strange. The Princess Metternich got herself
terribly worked up to make the impression that she understood it, and to
create applause, which came not. Everybody yawned, but at the same time,
everybody wished to appear to understand this unanswerable enigma. The
people who sat beneath Madame de Metternich’s _loge_ said that the
Austrians were taking their revenge for Solferino. It was said also that
people were tired of the _récitatifs_, and that _on se tanne aux
airs_.[26] Try to understand the joke. I fancy your Arabic music is an
excellent preparation for this infernal noise. It is an immense fiasco!
Auber says that it is Berlioz without melody.
The weather here is frightful--wind, rain, snow, and hail, varied by
flashes of sunshine which do not last ten minutes. The sea is still
raging, it seems, and I am glad you are not returning immediately.
Did I tell you that I had made the acquaintance of M. Blanchard, who is
going to move into the rue de Grenelle? He showed me some charming
water-colours, Russian and Asiatic scenes, which seemed to show a great
deal of temperament, and which were done with talent and fire.
I should like to send you some news, but know of nothing worth sending
across the sea. I am persuaded that the pope will leave before the end
of two months, or else that we shall settle him where he can come to
terms with the Piedmontese; but affairs can not endure as they are. The
devout are making a horrible outcry; but the French people and the
bourgeois are anti-papists. I hope and believe that Isidore shares my
sentiments on this point.
I shall make a short journey, probably, in the south, in the company of
my ex-minister, to spend the dreary Easter season. You tell me nothing
about your health, about your complexion. Your health, I trust, is good;
as to the other, I fear you have not sunburned at all.
Good-bye, dear friend. I thank you for the _gebira_. Return well and
strong; stout or slender, I promise to recognise you. I embrace you most
tenderly.