Paris, January 14th, 1832.
I now first begin to feel at home here, and really to know Paris;
it is indeed the most singular and amusing place imaginable; but
for one who is no politician, it does not possess so much interest.
So I have become a _doctrinaire_. I read my newspaper every
morning, form my own opinion about peace and war, and, only among
friends, confess that I know nothing of the matter.
This is however not the case with F----, who is completely absorbed
in the vortex of dilettantism and dogmatism, and really believes
himself quite adapted to be a Minister. It is a sad pity, for
nothing good will ever come of it. He has sufficient sense to be
always occupied, but not enough to conduct any affair. He is a
_dilettante_ on all points, and has a clever knack of criticizing
others, but he produces nothing. We continue on the same intimate
terms, meeting every day, and liking each other's society, but
inwardly we remain strangers. I suspect that he writes for the
public papers; he is very much with Heine, and chatters abuse
against Germany like a magpie; all this I much dislike, and as I
really have a sincere regard for him, it worries me. I suppose I
must try to become accustomed to it, but it is really too sad to
know where a person is deficient, and yet to be unable to remedy
their defects. Moreover he grows visibly older; so this irregular,
unoccupied life is the less suitable for him.
A---- has left his parents' house, and gone to the Rue
Monsigny,[30] where body and soul are equally engrossed. I have in
my possession an appeal to mankind from P---- in which he makes his
confession of faith, and invites every one to surrender a share of
his property, however small, to the St. Simoniens; calling on all
artists to devote their genius in future to this religion; to
compose better music than Rossini or Beethoven; to build temples of
peace, and to paint like Raphael or David. I have twenty copies of
this pamphlet, which P---- desired me, dear Father, to send to you.
I rest satisfied by sending you _one_, which you will find quite
enough, and even that one, by some private hand of course.
[30] At that time the residence of the St. Simoniens.
It is a bad sign of the state of the public mind here, that such a
monstrous doctrine, in such detestable prose, should ever have
existed, or impressed others; for it appears that the students of
the Polytechnic School take considerable interest in it. It is
difficult to say how far it may be carried, when there is
temptation offered on every side, promising honour to one, fame to
another; to me, an admiring public, and to the poor, money; while
by their cold estimate of talent, they check all effort, and all
progress. And then their ideas as to universal brotherhood, their
disbelief in hell, and the devil, and eternal perdition, and of the
annihilation of all egotism,--ideas, which in our country spring
from nature, and prevail in every part of Christendom, and without
which I should not wish to live, but which they however regard as a
new invention and discovery, constantly repeating that they mean to
transform the world, and to render mankind happy. A---- coolly
tells me that he does not require to improve himself, but others
only; because he is not at all imperfect, but on the contrary,
perfect. They not only praise and compliment each other, but all
those whom they wish to gain over; extolling any talent or
capability you may possess, and lamenting that such great powers
should be lost, by adhering to the old-fashioned notions of duty,
vocation, and action, as they were formerly interpreted. When I
listen to all this, it does seem to me a melancholy mystification.
I attended a meeting last Sunday, where all the Fathers sat in a
circle: then came the principal Father and demanded their reports,
praising and blaming them, addressing the assembly, and issuing his
commands; to me it was quite awful! A---- has completely renounced
his parents, and lives with the Fathers, his disciples, and is
endeavouring to procure a loan for their benefit; but enough of
this subject!
A Pole gives a concert next week, where I am to play in a
composition for six performers, along with Kalkbrenner, Hiller,
and Co.; do not be surprised therefore if you see my name
mutilated, as in the "Messager" lately, when the death of Professor
Flegel (Hegel) was announced from Berlin, and all the papers copied
it.
I have set to work again, and live most agreeably. I have not yet
been able to write to you about the theatres, although they occupy
me very much. How plain are the symptoms of bitterness and
excitement even in the most insignificant farce; how invariably
everything bears a reference to politics; how completely what is
called the Romantic School has infected all the Parisians, for they
think of nothing on the stage now but the plague, the gallows, the
devil, etc., one striving to outstrip the other in horrors, and in
liberalism; in the midst of these _miseres_ and fooleries, how
charming is a talent like that of Leontine Fay, who is the
perfection of grace and fascination, and remains unsullied by the
absurdities she is compelled to utter and to act. How strange all
these contrasts are! but this I reserve for future discussion.