CANNES, _February 23, 1869_.
Do not be offended with me, dear friend, if I do not write to you. I
have no encouraging news to give you of myself, and what is the
advantage of sending you bad reports? The fact is, I am still
dangerously ill, and I now realise that my malady is incurable. I have
tried I know not how many infallible remedies; I have been in the hands
of three or four physicians of great skill, not one of whom has given me
the slightest relief. I am mistaken. Some time ago, in Nice, I came
across an unusually intelligent man, somewhat of a charlatan, perhaps,
who gave me, without pay, some capsules, which relieved me from a very
painful feeling of suffocation which caused me great distress every
night. Now, I suffer from it in the morning, but with less violence,
and the attacks do not last so long. As for the bronchitis, which is the
obstinate feature of my disease, it is well established.
Suffering and sad as I am, I have not the strength to read, and I have,
besides, hardly any books. These past days I have read with interest the
_Mémoires d’un Paysan Écossais_, who by dint of intelligence and
application became a man of letters, a professor of geology, and a
celebrated man. Unfortunately, he cut his throat not long ago, hard work
having, without doubt, affected his mind. Hugh Miller is his name.
I think you will find my _Bear_ more presentable under his new form.
Whenever I am able to paint I make illustrations for the story, so that
when I return to Paris I may present it to the empress. Do not imagine
that I am representing all the scenes--that one, for example, in which
the bear forgets himself.
Good-bye, dear friend. I regret for your sake that you will not return
to Rome this year. Everything, it seems to me, is going wrong. There is
no longer any Spain; soon there will be no Holy See. The loss will be
more or less serious according to one’s point of view. But it is
something which should be seen once (like many other things), in order
that one may suffer no temptations nor regrets. Good-bye....