Volume Iii Part 62 (1/2)
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
HoTEL MEURICE, PARIS, _Friday, Feb. 16th, 1855._
MY DEAR GEORGY,
I heard from home last night; but the posts are so delayed and put out by the snow, that they come in at all sorts of times except the right times, and utterly defy all calculation. Will you tell Catherine with my love, that I will write to her again to-morrow afternoon; I hope she may then receive my letter by Monday morning, and in it I purpose telling her when I may be expected home. The weather is so severe and the roads are so bad, that the journey to and from Bordeaux seems out of the question. We have made up our minds to abandon it for the present, and to return about Tuesday night or Wednesday. Collins continues in a queer state, but is perfectly cheerful under the stoppage of his wine and other afflictions.
We have a beautiful apartment, very elegantly furnished, very thickly carpeted, and as warm as any apartment in Paris _can_ be in such weather. We are very well waited on and looked after. We breakfast at ten, read and write till two, and then I go out walking all over Paris, while the invalid sits by the fire or is deposited in a cafe. We dine at five, in a different restaurant every day, and at seven or so go to the theatre--sometimes to two theatres, sometimes to three. We get home about twelve, light the fire, and drink lemonade, to which _I_ add rum.
We go to bed between one and two. I live in peace, like an elderly gentleman, and regard myself as in a negative state of virtue and respectability.
The theatres are not particularly good, but I have seen Lemaitre act in the most wonderful and astounding manner. I am afraid we must go to the Opera Comique on Sunday. To-morrow we dine with Regnier and to-day with the Olliffes.
”La Joie fait Peur,” at the Francais, delighted me. Exquisitely played and beautifully imagined altogether. Last night we went to the Porte St.
Martin to see a piece (English subject) called ”Jane Osborne,” which the characters p.r.o.nounce ”Ja Nosbornnne.” The seducer was Lord Nottingham.
The comic Englishwoman's name (she kept lodgings and was a very bad character) was Missees Christmas. She had begun to get into great difficulties with a gentleman of the name of Meestair Cornhill, when we were obliged to leave, at the end of the first act, by the intolerable stench of the place. The whole theatre must be standing over some vast cesspool. It was so alarming that I instantly rushed into a cafe and had brandy.
My ear has gradually become so accustomed to French, that I understand the people at the theatres (for the first time) with perfect ease and satisfaction. I walked about with Regnier for an hour and a half yesterday, and received many compliments on my angelic manner of speaking the celestial language. There is a winter Franconi's now, high up on the Boulevards, just like the round theatre on the Champs Elysees, and as bright and beautiful. A clown from Astley's is all in high favour there at present. He talks slang English (being evidently an idiot), as if he felt a perfect confidence that everybody understands him. His name is Boswell, and the whole cirque rang last night with cries for Boz Zwilllll! Boz Zweellll! Boz Zwuallll! etc. etc. etc. etc.
I must begin to look out for the box of bon-bons for the n.o.ble and fascinating Plornish-Maroon. Give him my love and a thousand kisses.
Loves to Mamey, Katey, Sydney, Harry, and the following stab to Anne--she forgot to pack me any shaving soap.
Ever, my dear Georgy, most affectionately yours.
P.S.--Collins sends kind regards.
[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
HoTEL MEURICE, PARIS, _Friday, Feb. 16th, 1855._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I received your letter yesterday evening. I have not yet seen the lists of trains and boats, but propose arranging to return about Tuesday or Wednesday. In the meantime I am living like Gil Blas and doing nothing.
I am very much obliged to you, indeed, for the trouble you have kindly taken about the little freehold. It is clear to me that its merits resolve themselves into the view and the spot. If I had more money these considerations might, with me, overtop all others. But, as it is, I consider the matter quite disposed of, finally settled in the negative, and to be thought no more about. I shall not go down and look at it, as I could add nothing to your report.
Paris is finer than ever, and I go wandering about it all day. We dine at all manner of places, and go to two or three theatres in the evening.
I suppose, as an old farmer said of Scott, I am ”makin' mysel'” all the time; but I seem to be rather a free-and-easy sort of superior vagabond.
I live in continual terror of ----, and am strongly fortified within doors, with a means of retreat into my bedroom always ready. Up to the present blessed moment, his staggering form has not appeared.
As to yesterday's post from England, I have not, at the present moment, the slightest idea where it may be. It is under the snow somewhere, I suppose; but n.o.body expects it, and _Galignani_ reprints every morning leaders from _The Times_ of about a fortnight or three weeks old.
Collins, who is not very well, sends his ”penitent regards,” and says he is enjoying himself as much as a man with the weight of a broken promise on his conscience can.
Ever, my dear Wills, faithfully yours.