There are some very fine revolutionary
tirades in it, of which Princess Mathilde, after its first
representation, said that they made her _Republican_ heart
palpitate. The ceremony in honor of this little anti-pope to Victor Hugo
was quite a pretty one.
Once, too, I received a ticket for a reception at the French Academy.
The poet Auguste Barbier was being inaugurated and Silvestre de Sacy
welcomed him, in academic fashion, in a fairly indiscreet speech.
Barbier's _Jamber_ was one of the books of poems that I had loved
for years, and I knew many of the strophes by heart, for instance, the
celebrated ones on Freedom and on Napoleon; I had also noticed how
Barbier's vigour had subsided in subsequent collections of poems; in
reality, he was still living on his reputation from the year 1831, and
without a doubt most people believed him to be dead. And now there he
stood, a shrivelled old man in his Palm uniform, his speech revealing
neither satiric power nor lofty intellect. It was undoubtedly owing to
his detestation of Napoleon (_vide_ his poem _L'Idole_) that
the Academy, who were always agitating against the Empire, had now, so
late in the day, cast their eyes upon him. Bald little Silvestre de
Sacy, the tiny son of an important father, reproached him for his verses
on Freedom, as the bold woman of the people who was not afraid to shed
blood.
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