What has become of you this spring? Shall I find you in Paris, or are you going to ——, to watch the budding of the first leaves?
So your friend Paradol becomes an Academician by the will of the burgraves, who, in fact, have compelled the poor duc de Broglie to return to Paris, in spite of his gout and his eighty years. It will be a curious session. Ampère has written a wretchedly poor history of Caesar, and in verse, in the bargain. You may imagine all the allusions which M. Paradol will find occasion to make to this work, forgotten to-day by everybody except the burgraves. Jules Janin remained without, and also my friend Autran, who being from Marseilles, for no other reason than to be elected to the Academy, became a clerical, and was after all deserted by his religious friends.
You knew, perhaps, that Mr. William Brougham, brother of lord Brougham, and next in line to the peerage, has just been caught in the act of a very ugly piece of cheating. It is creating a tremendous scandal here among the English colony. Lord Brougham shows a bold front; he is, besides, perfectly innocent in all this villainy.
I am reading, to keep me patient and to put me to sleep, a book by a M. Charles Lambert, which demolishes the holy king David and the Bible. It seems to me quite ingenious, and tolerably amusing. The clericals have succeeded in having read and bringing into popularity serious and pedantic books, which fifteen years ago would have attracted the attention of no one. Renan has gone to Palestine to make new researches into the scenery. Peyrat and this Charles Lambert are at work on books more erudite and more serious, which sell like hot cakes, so my bookseller tells me. Good-bye, dear friend.
CCLXXXI
Paris, July 5, 1865.
I was beginning to fear that you had been struck by lightning, like Madame Arbuthnot, or that that you had been devoured by some bear. I thought you certainly in the heart of the Tyrol, when your letter arrived from ——. In my opinion it is preferable to travel in the long days rather than in autumn; but let nothing prevent you from seeing Munich in September. You must be careful only to provide yourself with warm clothing, because the weather changes very suddenly in that broad, ugly, high plain of Munich.
Nothing is easier than to make this journey. You may go to Munich by way of Strasburg, or, if you prefer, by Basel. I think that there is now a railway as far as Constance. You can, in any case, reach there by steamboat. At Constance you take the lake boat for Lindau, which is a pretty little town; and from there to Kempten you will see a succession of admirable views. You may go to Munich direct by train, or you may stop on the route between Lindau and Kempten. From Kempten to Munich there is nothing but flat, unattractive scenery.
You must go to the Hotel Bavaria, and not to Maullich’s, where I was robbed of my boots. A valet or an official guide will show you everything worthy of attention. The paintings at the palace, taken from scenes of the Nibelungen, are rather interesting, but you will need to obtain special permission to see them. All the rest is open to the public. Examine carefully, that you may tell me about them, the new propylons of my late friend Klenze. In the Museum of Antiquities you will see the pediments of the temple of Egina, and the marble group of which I have told you. The Grecian vases are extremely curious, and the paintings of Pinacothèque equally so. The frescoes of Cornelius and other imitations of originals will cause you to shrug your shoulders.
Go and drink some beer in the public gardens, where, for a few sous, you may enjoy excellent music. If you have the time, it will be worth your while to make a few trips into the Bavarian Tyrol, to Tegernsee, and elsewhere. When you go to Salzburg (on which I congratulate you) you may go to see, if you like, the salt-mine of Hallein. At Innsbruck there is nothing to see but the landscape and the bronze statues of the cathedral. In all this country you may stop at any of the smallest villages, sure of finding a bed and a tolerable dinner. I should be glad to share the pleasures of the journey with you.