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Updated: June 14, 2025
It was there that was reared up with art, purpose, industry, and goodwill, the decadence of France. There worked the bought, fed, and obliging public men; read prostituted. Even literature was compounded there as we have shown; Vieillard was a classic of 1830, Morny created Choufleury, Louis Bonaparte was a candidate for the Academy. Strange place.
Vieillard was an anecdotist. He recounted smilingly the following: Towards the close of 1807 Queen Hortense, who of her own accord lived in Paris, wrote to the King Louis that she could not exist any longer without seeing him, that she could not do without him, and that she was about to come to the Hague. The King said, "She is with child."
"There was such a night. And I was young young not an iron bound vieillard then. When one is young one's anguish is the Deluge which ends the world forever. I had lain down and risen up and spent every hour in growing torture for months. I had been forced to bind myself down with bands of iron.
"That little Duchesse is a monstre, a femme d'Eugene Sue," the Vicomte used to say; "the poor old Duke he cry ma parole d'honneur, he cry and I cry too when he comes to recount to my poor mother, whose sainted heart is the asile of all griefs, a real Hotel Dieu, my word the most sacred, with beds for all the afflicted, with sweet words, like Sisters of Charity, to minister to them: I cry, mon bon Pendennis, when this vieillard tells his stories about his wife and tears his white hairs to the feet of my mother."
I was frightened when I saw him; there were blue patches under his eyes, his face looked drawn and stiff, his jaw hung down. Soyez toujours sage et vertueuse. C'est la derniere recommandation d'un' he coughed 'd'un vieillard qui vous veut du bien. Je vous ai recommande a mon frere et je ne doute pas qu'il ne respecte mes volontes.... He coughed again, and anxiously felt his chest.
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