Chapter 10

AT THE ACADEMY.

Session of November 23, 1843.

CHARLES NODIER.--The Academy, yielding to custom,
has suppressed universally the double consonant in verbs
where this consonant supplanted euphoniously the ~d~ of the
radical ~ad~.

MYSELF.--I avow my profound ignorance. I had no
idea that custom had effected this suppression and that
the Academy had sanctioned it. Thus one should no
longer write ~atteindre, approuver, appeler, apprehender~,
etc., but ~ateindre, aprouver, apeler, apréhender~?

M. VICTOR COUSIN.--I desire to point out to M. Hugo
that the alterations of which he complains come from the
movement of the language, which is nothing else than decadence.

MYSELF.--M. Cousin having addressed a personal observation
to me, I beg to point out to him in turn that
his opinion is, in my estimation, merely an opinion and
nothing more. I may add that, as I view it, "movement
of the language" and decadence have nothing in common.
Nothing could be more distinct than these two things.
Movement in no way proves decadence. The language
has been moving since the first day of its formation; can
it be said to be deteriorating? Movement is life; decadence
is death.

M. COUSIN.--The decadence of the French language began in 1789.

MYSELF.--At what hour, if you please?

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October 8, 1844.

This is what was told to me at to-day's session:

Salvandy recently dined with Villemain. The repast
over, they adjourned to the drawing-room, and conversed.
As the clock struck eight Villemain's three little daughters
entered to kiss their father good night. The youngest is
named Lucette; her birth cost her mother her reason; she
is a sweet and charming child of five years.

"Well, Lucette, dear child," said her father, "won't
you recite one of Lafontaine's fables before you go to
bed?"

"Here," observed M. de Salvandy, "is a little person
who to-day recites fables and who one of these days will
inspire romances."

Lucette did not understand. She merely gazed with
her big wondering eyes at Salvandy who was lolling in his
chair with an air of benevolent condescension.

"Well, Lucette." he went on, "will you not recite a
fable for us?"

The child required no urging, and began in her naïve
little voice, her fine, frank, sweet eyes still fixed upon
Salvandy:

One easily believes one's self to be somebody in France.

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1845.

During the run of M. Ponsard's "Lucrece", I had the
following dialogue with M. Viennet at a meeting of the
Academy:

M. VIENNET.--Have you