T.S.V.P.

Little stories of everyone and no one

Under this title, MM. Bienstock and Curnonsky have just brought together in a volume, which will be published these days by Crès, a host of these anecdotes and these witticisms which are the pleasure of a moment but which we forget too quickly. We are happy to reproduce here some of those relating to people of letters and theater...
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One day, Charles Nodier, reading his remarks on the French language at the Academy, spoke of the rule which dictates that the "t" between two vowels usually, and with a few exceptions, has the sound of "s".
You are wrong, Nodier, shouted Emmanuel Duraty, the rule is without exception.
My dear colleague, replied immediately. Nodier,

“Please tell me to repeat only the words of what you have just said, because I am incredibly deaf. »
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Voltaire and Piron challenged each other to who would write the most concise letter. Piron kept quiet, reserving the reply: he was the master of the choice of language. Voltaire, ready to leave for the countryside, wrote to Piron these words Eo rus (I am going to the countryside) believing himself sure of victory; but the author of Métromania responded to him immediately with this letter in one letter: I (go).
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At a time when there was much talk about a man arrested on suspicion of forgery, Voltaire asked police lieutenant Hérault what was done to those who fabricated false lettres de cachet.
“We hang them,” replied Hérault.
- It's always well done, said Voltaire, while waiting for those who sign it to be treated in the same way, as real ones.
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Rivarol, in 1792, said of the sovereigns allied against France:
They were always behind a year, an army and an idea

Rivarol said of the remarkably unclean Chevalier P...:
- It makes a stain in the mud

And Pierre Veber said of a writer well known for his physical negligence:
- He changes dirty laundry.
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Fontenelle was asked when he was dying: How are things going?
It's not okay, he says, it's going away
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Rivarol said of Condorcet:
- He writes with opium on lead sheets.
And from Mirabeau:
- He is capable of anything for money, even a good deed.
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Malherbe's confessor represented to him the happiness of the other life with
very vulgar and inaccurate expressions. The poet interrupted him by saying
- Don't talk to me about it, your bad style would disgust me.
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Putz, director of the journal! France, one day said to Georges Feydeau:
- Do you know? I have just bought a house for the France editorial office.
- You can accommodate your subscribers there, replied Feydeau.
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At the performance of a play by Emile Augier to the « théâtre Français », Alexandre Dumas fils, who was seated near the author, said to him, pointing to a sleeping spectator
- See what effect your work produces.
Some time later, as a play by Dumas fils was being performed at the « théâtre Français », Emile Augier, looking closely, ended up discovering a sleeping spectator in the chairs. He indicated it to Dumas and
- You see, dear friend, the effect that your work produces.
Alexandre Dumas looked and replied:
- Ah yes, I recognize it, it’s the same spectator as the other evening; he hasn't woken up yet.
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Alexandre Dumas Sr., to an insolent person who called him a “Negro”, replied:
- Yes, sir, my father was mulatto, my grandfather was negro, my great-grandfather was a monkey. My generation begins where yours ends.
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A young girl asked Bergerat to write something for her in his album
- But what interest does my autograph represent? said the writer modestly.
- How, dear, master, you who are so famous
-Ah! do you believe that? Well ! I'm going to tell you what happened to me the other day I found myself in a society where they played charades. A lady suggested this: My first is a bank, my second is a rat, and my whole is the son-in-law of Théophile Gautier? And everyone shouted: Catulle Mendès!…
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A famous ironist, asked to write “something” on an Album of Thoughts, improvised this little quatrain:
I am a poor man
That it's not funny
To be forced to write
On this Album.
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Adrien Hébrard said: “Every man has the age that separates him from death. »
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Trislan Bernard is sitting in a restaurant in Nice. He calls the boy: Boy! I can't eat this soup! The eager waiter takes the plate and presents the card to the illustrious comedian. Tristan Bernard takes the menu and chooses the bisque polish. The boy brings it. A minute later, Tristan Bernard calls him again: Boy, I can't eat this soup! The boy, not understanding anything, calls the manager. He runs up and says very respectfully to Tristan Bernard:
- What is it, sir? All customers find this polishing excellent and have complimented me on it. But I'm not saying the opposite, replies Tristan Bernard, only I don't have a spoon.
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Victor Hugo, who was seated. next to Gounod at the premiere of Lohengrin, asked the illustrious composer:
- How do you find this music?
- I find it octagonal, replied Gounod
- I was going to tell you, replied Hugo
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Swift, being ready to mount his horse, asked his servant for his boots, and brought them to him.
- Why aren't they cleaned asked Swift.
- You're going to get them dirty later on the roads. I thought there was no point in cleaning them up.
A moment later the servant asked Swift for the key to the sideboard.
- Why do this, his master told him. For lunch.
- Oh! said Swift, as you will still be hungry in two hours from now, there is no point in eating now.
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The famous Father Grisier, then director of Ambigu, was suffering from a severe attack of rheumatism. On his first outing, he met one of his creditors in the street who, after asking him for news, added:
- And when, finally, will you give me back the five thousand francs that you have owed me for three years?
Papa Grisier, very dignified, replied simply:
- Sir, when we have suffered as I have just suffered, we no longer owe anyone
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The Kalkrenner pianist was very keen on the particle “von” which preceded his name, and flaunted it on every occasion.
-Do you know, he said one day to someone he knew, that the nobility of my family dates back to the Crusades? One of my ancestors accompanied Emperor Barbarossa.
- At the piano? asked the other.
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Rameau, visiting a beautiful lady, suddenly gets up from his chair, grabs a little dog that she had on her lap and suddenly throws it out of the window. The terrified lady:
- Hey! what are you doing, sir? He's barking wrong, said Rameau with indignation.
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At an evening at Rossini's, a lady, invited to sing, tried very hard to decide. She had to sing an aria from Sémiramis.
- Ah! dear master, how afraid I am! she sighed.
- And me then, said Rossini.
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Abbé Arnaud, a passionate admirer of Gluck, once had an exquisite word
- Finally, said a villain in front of him, Alceste's music has fallen.…
- Yes, replied Arnaud, falling from the sky.
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A great actor who directed a very Parisian scene had a son, a prodigal son - who willingly dipped into the theater's treasury. So much so that in the end the cashier was ordered to refuse.
Now, one day the cashier came to the boss and said to him:
- Sir, your son is here and asking for money. Should you walk?
- Yes, replied the great artist, walk, but on tiptoe.
Someone said to the erudite and witty columnist Paul G..., an old regular at the Comédie-Française:
- I don't understand why you spend all your evenings in this theater, where it would really be time to rejuvenate the executives.
- Ah! my friend, replied Paul G.… and the paintings, therefore!
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Guitry entertained a lot in his dressing room and, among other people, current shavers whom he could not dismiss without formalities. He had just been forced to accept a lunch invitation from one of these people. But as soon as he turned on his heels, the artist called his dresser.
- You're going to write to this sinister idiot, I can't have lunch with him because...
At that moment, he caught a glimpse of the importunate person in a mirror, who had only made a false exit. Then Guitry, not losing his composure:
- ... because I have lunch with the gentleman.
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This good Paul Mariéton who knew how to organize the performances so well at the Théâtre Antique in Orange, one day had a word. Oedipus the King had just finished amidst delirious acclamations. The great Mounet Sully had surpassed himself. The entire arena, standing and quivering, gave him a sublime ovation. Now, the American billionaire Carnegie, who was present at this triumph, introduced himself to Marieton and asked him how many dollars it would take to organize the same show in America. Good Mariéton stood up, arched his round figure and, pointing to the sky and the august wall of the Theater, replied with that stutter which added an extra charm to his southern accent.
- My... my... Mr. Ca... Carnegie... it would take two thousand years!

Bienstock and Gurnonsky.