20 October 1855: Sheet #3

Transcription

from the sphere of sensations, everything that does not excite the Good and Pretty types, political science work is learned from pleasant novels. The Encyclopedia is distributed for cheap and at the same abundance as pictorial newspapers. Those who have been sentenced to death kill themselves under the blessed ecstasy of 'chloroform'. The panderers and spies are called Knights/Horsemen; Kings sugarcoat the pill of slavery for the public with the paint of statutes, and Diplomacy abandons divination and the mystery of the courts to hide itself in the perfumed restrooms of Actresses and of Ballerinas. Don't accuse me of loving paradoxes too much; I want to prove to you that for a minister, a woman in Theater is equivalent to an enemy power, and to win, all of the knowledge of a Wallet/portfolio is often not enough. Give me your hand for an instant, while I intrude on the sacred depths of the Leading Lady, attached to the tail of S.E. the Marchese of S...,*** and I'll show you the prologue of the interesting play, the one you saw last night in the theater, the stupendous catastrophe. In the most elegant dressing room of the stage, Mademoiselle Clarice, in her vivid Savoyard costume, softly lies down on her stomach on an elastic ottoman, eyes half-closed from meditation or from boredom, her white and slim arms falling paralyzed on her knees, and her baby feet positioned on a live stool made by the hands of S.E. the Marchese of S....** Kneeling on a Persian tapestry, the Servant Boy–Minister official and intent on tying Linda's sandals, and to have the excuse to remain in that blessed position for as long as possible completes his noble task with his fingers numb from a pair of frozen gloves. The renowned singer, stunned by the wild noise of the applause and made nauseous by the incense of her admirers, is taking a sentimental trip through her lively imagination through imaginary spaces. And seeming to be actually transformed into the daughter of the tenant of Chamouni, she dreams of snow, spruce trees, cabins, the happy shepherds of White mountain. The gallant Minister, convinced that the state will not have peace until he tames the natural pride of this divine creature, gathers all of his moral forces, encourages himself with the prospect of victory, and puts himself in the fervor of battle, having decided to win or die on the generous battlefield that he occupies. And seeing as whenever he tried to attack the heart or the mind of the beloved enemy, he always left empty-handed, thus slowly changed, resolved this time to attack on foot, a maneuver that is courageously carried out with a resonating and passionate kiss. He never implemented this while venerating the slipper of Saint Father. But the beautiful dreamer who is in a different world, responds softly with her vocal chords, saying the famous chorus: 'Hurry to console me, Desired moment' Then a bright idea struck fertile mind of our Lovelace: He who humorously supports the poetic delirium of the adorable tyrant, can gather the right, wanted for a long time, to finally give her his declaration, and above all the seductive proposals with which he hopes to move her. In two jumps he flies from the Wardrobe, he borrows a Regent-style jacket, and a huge powdered wig CODATA. And under this costume, which fit him wonderfully, returned to the sanctuary, accurately playing the parte of Marchese of Boisfleury, that begins with the words: 'This apartment of yours Is not bad, is lovely; But it gives me pride to offer you A luxurious building...' Unfortunately the scene had the opposite effect that was hoped for.