Baudelaire to Sainte-Beuve
21st February, 1859.
My dear friend, I do not know if you take in the “Revue française.” But, for fear that you should read it, I protest against a certain line (on the subject of “The Flowers of Evil”), page 171, in which the author—who, however, is very intelligent—is guilty of some injustice towards you.
Once, in a newspaper, I have been accused of ingratitude towards two chiefs of ancient romanticism to whom I owe all; it spoke, besides, with a judicial air, of this infamous trash.
This time, in reading this unfortunate line, I said to myself: “Mon Dieu! Sainte-Beuve, who knows my fidelity, but who knows that I am connected with the author, will perhaps believe that I have been capable of prompting this passage.” It is exactly the contrary; I have quarrelled with Babou many a time in order to persuade him that you would always do everything you ought and could do.
A short time ago I was talking to Malassis of this great friendship, which does me honour and to which I owe so much good advice. The monster left me no peace until I gave him the long letter that you sent me at the time of my lawsuit, and which will serve, perhaps, as a plan for the making of a Preface. New “Flowers” are done, and passably out of the ordinary. Here, in repose, fluency has come back to me. There is one of them (“Danse macabre”) which ought to have appeared on the 15th, in the “Revue contemporaine....”
I have not forgotten your Coleridge, but I have been a month without receiving any books, and to run through the 2,400 pages of Poe is some small labour.
Sincerely yours, and write to me if you have time.
Honfleur, Calvados (this address is sufficient).
What has become of the old rascal? (d’Aurevilly).