Of all the
poets of our day only three, Hugo, Theophile Gautier, and De Vigny,
have been able to win the double glory of poet and prose-writer, like
Racine and Voltaire, Moliere, and Rabelais,--a rare distinction in the
literature of France, which ought to give a man a right to the
crowning title of poet.
So then, the bard of the faubourg Saint-Germain was doing a wise thing
in trying to house his little chariot under the protecting roof of the
present government. When he became president of the court of Claims at
the foreign office, he stood in need of a secretary,--a friend who
could take his place in various ways; cook up his interests with
publishers, see to his glory in the newspapers, help him if need be in
politics,--in short, a cat's paw and satellite. In Paris many men of
celebrity in art, science, and literature have one or more
train-bearers, captains of the guard, chamberlains as it were, who live
in the sunshine of their presence,--aides-de-camp entrusted with
delicate missions, allowing themselves to be compromised if necessary;
workers round the pedestal of the idol; not exactly his servants, nor
yet his equals; bold in his defence, first in the breach, covering all
retreats, busy with his business, and devoted to him just so long as
their illusions last, or until the moment when they have got all they
wanted.
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