Still it will be a _grandiose_, gypsy,
or rather Sibylline ugliness, well adapted to the expression of some
tragic parts. Only it seems as if she could not live long; she expends
force enough upon a part to furnish out a dozen common lives.
TO R.W.E.
_Paris, Jan_. 18, 1847.--I can hardly tell you what a fever consumes
me, from sense of the brevity of my time and opportunity. Here I
cannot sleep at night, because I have been able to do so little in
the day. Constantly I try to calm my mind into content with small
achievements, but it is difficult. You will say, it is not so mightily
worth knowing, after all, this picture and natural history of Europe.
Very true; but I am so constituted that it pains me to come away,
having touched only the glass over the picture.
I am assiduous daily at the Academy lectures, picture galleries,
Chamber of Deputies,--last week, at the court and court ball. So far
as my previous preparation enabled me, I get something from all these
brilliant shows,--thoughts, images, fresh impulse. But I need,
to initiate me into various little secrets of the place and
time,--necessary for me to look at things to my satisfaction,--some
friend, such as I do not find here.
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