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Updated: June 9, 2025
Kenyon won't stir from England, we see plainly. Ah! Frederic Soulié! he is too dead, I fear. Perhaps he goes on, though, writing romances, after the fashion of poor Miss Pickering, that prove nothing. I long for my French fountains of living literature, which, pure or impure, plashed in one's face so pleasantly. Some old French 'Mémoires' we have got at lately, 'Brienne' for instance.
Of the brilliant roll of the "young men of 1830," in Paris, Balzac, Soulié, De Musset, De Bernard, Sue, and their compeers, it is said that nearly every one has already perished, in the prime of life. What is the explanation? A stern one: opium, tobacco, wine, and licentiousness. "All died of softening of the brain or spinal marrow, or swelling of the heart."
After them came names half literary, half political, such as MM. Cousin, Salvandy, Yillemain, Thiers, Augustin Thierry, Michelet, Mignet, Vitet, Cavé, Mérimée, and Guizot. Others, who were not yet known, but were coming forward, were Balzac, Soulié, De Musset, Sainte-Beuve, Auguste Barbier, Alphonse Karr, Théophile Gautier. Madame Sand was not known until her "Indiana," in 1828.
A letter was also put in, signed by Alexandre Dumas, Eugene Sue, Frederic Soulie, and others, stating that it was usual for authors to allow the communication of their productions to the Revue Francaise of Saint Petersburg, with a view to combating Belgian and German piracies.
They were compilations from Frederick Soulié, Eugene Sue, and Alexander Dumas, glorious authors, whom I delight to read save in my amorous correspondence, where a feminine mistake in orthography gives me more pleasure than a phrase plagiarised from George Sand, or a pathetic tirade stolen from a popular dramatist.
I except from the general folly, Renan who, on the contrary, seemed to me very philosophical, and the good Soulie who charged me to give you a thousand affectionate messages. I have collected a mass of horrible and unpublished details which I spare you. My little trip to Paris has troubled me extremely, and I am going to have a hard time in getting down to work again.
The visit led to no result, as the French refused to act. The Journal continues: April 20th. Interesting day at Versailles with Feuillet de Conches and Soulie; took the Dempsters and Hamiltons of Dalziel. My father's old friend Dr. de Roches died at Geneva on April 18th. On the 23rd, Christine and I went to Geneva on a visit to the Binets. Saw Mme. de Roches, who also died a few days afterwards.
"I am busy," he said, in the Creole-negro patois, "but has anybody has anything happened to to anybody in Madame Brouillard's house?" "Yes," the messenger feared that "ce Michié qui poté soulié jaune that gentleman who wears yellow shoes is ill. Madame Brouillard is hurrying to and fro and crying." "Very loud?" "No, silently; yet as though her heart were breaking."
But Balzac charms me, let him write what he will; he's an inspired man. Tell me, too, exactly what Sue has done after 'Martin. I read only one volume of 'Martin. And did poor Soulié finish his 'Dramas'? And after 'Lucretia' what did George Sand write?
Either terrorised by the all-powerful Buloz, or jealous of one who insisted on his own abilities and literary supremacy with loud-voiced reiteration, Alexandre Dumas, Roger de Beauvoir, Frederic Soulie, Eugene Sue, Mery, and Balzac's future acquaintance Leon Gozlan, signed a declaration at the instance of Buloz, to the effect that it was the general custom that articles written for the Revue de Paris should be published also in the Revue Etrangere, and should thus avoid Belgian piracy.
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