CHÂTEAU DE FONTAINEBLEAU, _Thursday, June 13, 1861_.
DEAR FRIEND: For two days I have been here, recuperating, with great
enjoyment, among the trees, after my tribulations of the last week.[28]
I suppose you read of the affair in the _Moniteur_. I have never in my
life seen people so wild, so senseless as magistrates. For my
consolation, I say to myself that twenty years from now, when some
antiquarian shall poke his nose into the _Moniteur_ of this week, he
will say that he has discovered in 1861, in an assembly of _young_
fools, a philosopher full of moderation and calmness. This philosopher
is myself, and I say it without vanity.
In this country, where magistrates are recruited from the ranks of men
too stupid to earn their living as lawyers, they are ill-paid, and to
get on with them they are privileged to be insolent and quarrelsome.
Happily, it is all ended at last. I have done what I ought to do, and if
it were possible, I should reopen the case for the petition of Madame
Libri.
I was cordially received here, and have not been laughed at on account
of my defeat. I expressed my opinion of the affair very plainly, and
have had no intimation of any disapproval of my judgment. After all the
excitement of these last days, I feel as if an enormous weight had
rolled off my back. The weather is superb, and the air of the woods
delicious. There are few people here. My hosts are, as usual, extremely
kind and friendly.
We have with us the Princess Metternich, who is very vivacious, after
the German fashion--that is to say, she has created for herself a kind
of originality composed of two parts of rapid woman and one of great
lady. I fancy she has not wit enough to sustain the rôle she has
adopted. To-day we are going hunting. The evenings are a little tedious,
but they do not last forever. I expect to be here a week longer; my
official duties hold me here, however, only until Sunday. If I remain
beyond that time I shall let you know.
Good-bye, dear friend. Some one has come for me.