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AT THE ACADEMY. - The Memoirs of Victor Hugo| Set Display | Please Turn On Your Virtual Bookmarks | Help Support This Site | Table of Contents | Victor Hugo |
Page 39 of 171
AT THE ACADEMY. - The Memoirs of Victor Hugo
"As a member of the dramatic prize committee, I read yesterday, in a single day, mind you, no fewer than six plays!"
"That," I responded, "was to punish you for not having seen one acted in eighteen years."
At this moment M. Thiers came up and the two men exchanged greetings. This is how they did it:
M. THIERS: Good afternoon, Guizot.
M. GUIZOT: Good afternoon, Monsieur.
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AN ELECTION SESSION.
March 28, 1850.
M. Guizot presided. At the roll call, when M. Pasquier's name was reached he said: "Monsieur the Chancellor--" When he got to that of M. Dupin, President of the National Assembly, he called: "Monsieur Dupin."
First ballot.
Alfred de Musset 5 votes.
M. Nisard 23 "
M. Nisard is elected.
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To-day, September 12, the Academy worked at the dictionary. A propos of the word "increase," this example, taken from the works of Mme. de Staël, was proposed:
"Poverty increases ignorance, and ignorance poverty."
Three objections were immediately raised:
1. Antithesis.
2. Contemporary writer.
3. Dangerous thing to say.
The Academy rejected the example.
LOVE IN PRISON.
I.
BESIDES misdeeds, robberies, the division of spoils after an ambuscade, and the twilight exploitation of the barriers of Paris, footpads, burglars, and gaol-birds generally have another industry: they have ideal loves.
This requires explanation.
The trade in negro slaves moves us, and with good reason; we examine this social sore, and we do well. But let us also learn to lay bare another ulcer, which is more painful, perhaps: the traffic in white women.
Here is one of the singular things connected with and characteristic of this poignant disorder of our civilization:
Every gaol contains a prisoner who is known as the "artist."
All kinds of trades and professions peculiar to prisons develop behind the bars. There is the vendor of liquorice-water, the vendor of scarfs, the writer, the advocate, the usurer, the hut-maker, and the barker. The artist takes rank among these local and peculiar professions between the writer and the advocate.
To be an artist is it necessary to know how to draw? By no means. A bit of a bench to sit upon, a wall to lean against, a lead pencil, a bit of pasteboard, a needle stuck in a handle made out of a piece of wood, a little Indian ink or sepia, a little Prussian blue, and a little vermilion in three cracked beechwood spoons,--this is all that is requisite; a knowledge of drawing is superfluous. Thieves are as fond of colouring as children are, and as fond of tattooing as are savages. The artist by means of his three spoons satisfies the first of these needs, and by means of his needle the second. His remuneration is a "nip" of wine. 
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