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.