My Memoirs, Vol. III, 1826 to 1830Dumas, Alexandre
General
My Memoirs, Vol. III, 1826 to 1830
Dumas, Alexandre
Dumas, Alexandre, 1802-1870
this duplex reputation, unluckily but too well deserved, when, after
ten years at the _sous-préfecture_ and _préfecture_, a similar fate
overtook him to that of the poor Roman cobbler who taught a raven to
exclaim, "_Vive César Auguste!_" the Cæsar Augustus of France fell, and
all Romieu's pains and labours were lost, _opera et impensa periit._
Romieu retired into private life, and the fall above referred to,
which, contrary to the laws of gravity, operated from the base upwards,
gave us full liberty with respect to the author of the _Enfant trouvé_
and the _Ère des Césars._
In 1825, then, Romieu was collaborating with Rousseau; but, as in the
case of Adolphe and myself, they got absolutely nothing out of it
beyond a crowd of adventures each more delightfully amusing than its
predecessor, which defrayed their expenses at the _café du Roi_ and the
_café des Variétés._
Let us make it clear, for there might be some ambiguity in the
matter, and it might be thought that something also came out of our
collaboration.
No, nothing at all came of ours: Adolphe had always been as jolly as a
Trappist monk, while I, although by nature extremely light-hearted, was
only able to laugh at the farces of others, without ever being able, in
all the farces that were made, to be more than a simple spectator. I
profoundly admired Rousseau's and Romieu's cleverness in these lines.
So there were few nights when Rousseau especially (who could not
carry his wine as well as Romieu, but who, it should be acknowledged,
went in for excellent wines), abandoned to himself by his treacherous
Pylades, had to be led home by some patrol or other, and taken to the
police-station for making a nocturnal uproar. But Rousseau was like
those children who, as a precaution against their being lost, are
taught their name and address. Rousseau had deeply engraved upon his
memory the name of a certain police-officer of his acquaintance, and
it was so firmly embedded there that neither wine, nor brandy, nor rum
nor punch was powerful enough to wash it out. Rousseau staggering,
Rousseau stuttering, Rousseau tight, Rousseau drunk, Rousseau dead
drunk, Rousseau forgetful of the name and address of his mother, the
name and address of Romieu, his own name and his own address, could
always distinctly articulate the name and address of that particular
police-officer!
And as no one could refuse a man as drunk as he was the reasonable
request to be taken to a police-officer, Rousseau was taken to his
friend, who delivered him a formal lecture, but always wound up by
setting him free.
Once, however, the lecture was more keen than usual, and Rousseau
listened to it looking very penitent. Then, as the police-officer
upbraided him for disturbing his slumbers, thus waking him night after
night, Rousseau responded--
"You are quite right, and I promise you I will henceforth have myself
taken before someone else once every three times."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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