PALACE OF FONTAINEBLEAU, _Thursday, July 2, 1863_.
DEAR FRIEND: I should have liked to reply sooner to your letter, which
gave me much pleasure; but here one has no time for anything, and the
days pass with an astonishing rapidity without knowing how. The
important and principal occupations are eating, drinking, and sleeping.
I am successful in respect to the first two, but not as to the last. It
is a very poor preparation for sleep to spend three or four hours in
tight trousers, rowing on the lake, and catching a terrible cold. There
are a number of people here, well selected, it seems to me, and much
less official than usual; which contributes to the cordial relations
between the guests. Now and then we take walks in the woods, after
dining on the grass like the milliners of the rue Saint Denis.
Several immense chests were brought here day before yesterday from his
Majesty Tu-Duc, the Emperor of Cochin-China. They were opened in one of
the court-yards. Within the large chest were smaller ones painted red
and gold, and covered with roaches. The first which was opened contained
two very yellow elephant tusks, and two rhinoceros horns, plus a package
of mouldy cinnamon. From all this there arose inconceivable odours,
something between rancid butter and spoiled fish. In the other chest
were quantities of rolls of very narrow stuffs resembling gauze, in all
sorts of hideous colours, all more or less soiled, and, moreover,
mouldy. They had promised to send some gold medallions, but they did not
come, and have remained, probably, in China. The inference is that this
great Emperor of Cochin-China is a fraud.
We went yesterday to see the manœuvres of two regiments of cavalry,
and were horribly roasted. All the ladies are sun-burned. To-day we are
going to have a Spanish dinner in the forest, and I am charged with the
_gaspacho_--that is, to make the ladies eat raw onions. The mere mention
of this vegetable would cause them to faint. I have given orders that
they are not to be warned, and after they have eaten the onions I
reserve to myself the privilege of making a confession, in the manner of
that of Atræus.
I am delighted that my Cossack[30] has not bored you to death. For my
own part I am beginning to be very tired of him. It is absolutely
necessary to bury him the first of next month, and I do not know how to
bring it about. Although I brought my notes and books with me, I can not
succeed in accomplishing any work here.
Good-bye, dear friend. I expect to be here until Monday, or Tuesday at
the latest. At the same time, they pretend that on account of our
extreme amiability, they wish to hold us here several days still. I hope
to find you in Paris when I come. Again good-bye.