_Germanicus_ was revived later. We were present at the revival;
but, divorced from the passions of the moment, the play was not a
success. His unlooked-for and outrageously unjust proscription added
a bitterness to M. Arnault's nature--a bitterness which cropped out
on the least excuse, and which was not expelled from his blood by
the legacy Napoleon bequeathed him in his will of a hundred thousand
francs. The legacy was useful in aiding him to build a beautiful house
in the rue de la Bruyère: as is usually the case, however, the builder
sank twice the amount he had intended to spend thereon, so M. Arnault
found himself a hundred thousand francs poorer after his legacy than
before he had inherited that sum.
M. Arnault loved poetry for its own sake: he made lines on every
occasion. He wrote them on his portrait, on his garden door, on the
Abbé Geoffroy, on his dog's tricks, on a poet in uniform whose portrait
had been exhibited in the last Salon.
Here are the lines above referred to, which show not only the author's
wit, but also his very nature:--
VERS SUR LE PORTRAIT DE L'AUTEUR
"Sur plus d'un ton je sais régler ma voix;
Ami des champs, des arts, des combats et des fêtes,
En vers dignes d'eux, quelquefois,
J'ai fait parler les dieux, les héros et les bêtes."
POUR LA PORTE DE MON JARDIN
"Bons amis dont ce siècle abonde,
Je suis votre humble serviteur;
Mais passez: ma porte et mon cœur
Ne s'ouvrent plus à tout le monde."
SUR UN BON HOMME QUI N'A PAS LE VIN BON[1]
"Il est altéré de vin;
Il est altéré de gloire;
Il ne prend jamais en vain
Sa pinte ou son écritoire.
Des flots qu'il en fait couler,
Abreuvant plus d'un délire.
Il écrit pour se soûler,
Il se soûle pour écrire."
POUR LA NICHE DE MON CHIEN
"Je n'attaque jamais en traître,
Je caresse sans intérêt,
Je mords parfois, mais à regret:
Bon chien se forme sur son maître."
POUR LE PORTRAIT D'UN POÈTE EN UNIFORME
"Au Parnasse ou sur le terrain,
En triompher est peu possible:
L'épée en main il est terrible,
Terrible il est la plume en main;
Et pour se battre et pour écrire,
Nul ne saurait lui ressembler;
Car, s'il ne se bat pas pour rire,
Il écrit à faire trembler."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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