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Chapter 06: Hepatobiliary System
Kowalczyk: Radiographic Pathology for Technologists, 7th Edition

MULTIPLE CHOICE

1. Which of the following diagnostic imaging studies provides physiologic function of the
liver?
a. CT without contrast
b. Sonogram
c. Radiograph
d. Nuclear medicine with contrast
ANS: D

2. Which diagnostic examination does the ACR recommend for a patient who presents with
right upper quadrant pain that may be attributed to the biliary system?
a. CT without contrast
b. Sonogram
c. Radiograph
d. Nuclear medicine with contrast
ANS: B

3. A MRCP is used to visual which anatomic structures?

1. Gallbladder
2. Biliary system
3. Kidney
a. 1 and 2 only
b. 1 and 3 only
c. 2 and 3 only
d. 1, 2, and 3
ANS: A

4. A radiograph of the abdomen on a patient with known cirrhosis may be compromised due
to what additional pathologic condition?
a. Shrunken liver tissue
b. Gallstones
c. Ascites
d. Pancreatitis
ANS: C

5. Which form of hepatitis is transmitted from the GI tract in fecal material?

a. HAV
b. HBV
c. HCV
d. HDV
ANS: A
 6. Which liver lesion is primarily composed of blood vessels?
a. Hepatocellular adenoma
b. Hemangioma
c. Hepatocellular carcinoma
d. Hepatoma
ANS: B

7. The TIPSS procedure is designed to reduce portal hypertension by uniting which vessels?
1. Hepatic artery
2. Hepatic vein
3. Portal vein
a. 1 and 2 only
b. 1 and 3 only
c. 2 and 3 only
d. 1, 2, and 3
ANS: C

8. What is the incidence of gallstones in the United States for persons over 65 years of age?
a. 5%
b. 10%
c. 15%
d. 20%
ANS: D

9. The inflammation of the gallbladder is referred to as

a. colitis.
b. cholecystitis.
c. cholelithiasis.
d. cholecystectomy.
ANS: B

10. A fluid collection that develops from the pancreas is termed

a. ascites.
b. pancreatitis.
c. polycystic disease.
d. a pseudocyst.
ANS: D

11. Which of the following imaging studies are highly recommended for the diagnosis of
acute pancreatitis?
1. CT
2. SPECT
3. Sonography
a. 1 and 2 only
b. 1 and 3 only
c. 2 and 3 only
d. 1, 2, and 3
 ANS: B

12. The impaction of a gallstone in the small bowel is referred to as

a. cholelithiasis.
b. gallstone ileus.
c. obstructive jaundice.
d. medical jaundice.
ANS: B

13. Chronic liver disease has the highest incidence in which age group?
a. 25–34 years
b. 35–44 years
c. 45–65 years
d. Greater than 65 years
ANS: C

14. Which imaging procedure is preferred in the evaluation of proximal obstructions involving
the hepatic duct bifurcation?
a. ERCP
b. Percutaneous transhepatic cholangiogram
c. T-tube cholangiogram
d. Operative cholangiogram
ANS: B

15. Which imaging procedure can differentiate between vessels and biliary ducts based on
flow characteristics?
a. CT of the abdomen with contrast
b. Magnetic resonance cholangiopancreatography
c. Nuclear medicine cholescintigraphy
d. Doppler sonography
ANS: D

16. Fatty infiltration of the liver is termed

a. hyperlipidemia.
b. cirrhosis.
c. metabolic syndrome.
d. steatosis.
ANS: D

17. Cirrhosis of the liver is considered an end-stage condition resulting from liver damage
caused by chronic
1. alcohol abuse.
2. hepatitis.
3. biliary tract obstruction.
a. 1 and 2 only
b. 1 and 3 only
c. 2 and 3 only
 d. 1, 2, and 3
ANS: D

18. How many types of viral hepatitis have been identified?

a. 2
b. 4
c. 6
d. 8
ANS: C

19. Which of the following additional imaging procedures are highly recommended in patients
who have gallstones demonstrated with sonography but do not have fever or an elevated
white blood cell count?
1. Nuclear medicine cholescintigraphy
2. CT of the abdomen (with or without contrast)
3. MRI of the abdomen (with or without contrast)
a. 1 and 2 only
b. 1 and 3 only
c. 2 and 3 only
d. 1, 2, and 3
ANS: D

20. Which type of jaundice occurs because of hemolytic disease in which too many red blood
cells are destroyed or because of liver damage from cirrhosis or hepatitis?
a. Medical jaundice
b. Obstructive jaundice
ANS: A

21. The majority of adenocarcinomas of the pancreas occur in the _____ of the pancreas.
a. head
b. body
c. tail
ANS: A

22. Ascites is best demonstrated by which of the following imaging procedures?

1. CT of the abdomen
2. Sonogram of the abdomen
3. ERCP
a. 1 and 2 only
b. 1 and 3 only
c. 2 and 3 only
d. 1, 2, and 3
ANS: A

TRUE/FALSE
1. The right and left hepatic ducts unite to form the common bile duct.

ANS: F

2. The liver has a double supply of blood, coming from the hepatic artery and the portal vein.

ANS: T

3. Hepatitis B (HBV) is transmitted parenterally in infected serum or blood products.

ANS: T

4. Although most commonly found in the gallbladder, gallstones can be located anywhere in
the biliary tree.

ANS: T

5. Chronic pancreatitis resolves without impairing the histologic makeup of the pancreas.

ANS: F

6. The liver is a common site for metastasis from other primary sites such as the colon,
pancreas, stomach, lung, and breast.

ANS: T

7. Hepatitis B accounts for 80% of the cases of hepatitis that develop after blood
transfusions.

ANS: F

8. Approximately 80% of all gallstones are composed of a mixture of cholesterol, bilirubin,

and calcium salts.

ANS: T
Other documents randomly have
different content
 Good-bye, dear friend. I thank you for the gebira. Return well and
strong; stout or slender, I promise to recognise you. I embrace you most
tenderly.
 CCXXXV
Paris, April 2, 1861.
Dear Friend: I have just returned from my holy-week excursion, tired
out, after a sleepless and bitter cold night. I find your letter here, and am
delighted to learn that you are on this side of the sea....
I have been in better health for two weeks. Some one recommended a
very agreeable remedy for my pains in the stomach. It is called pearls of
ether. They are small capsules made of I don’t know what, which are
transparent, and contain the liquid ether. You swallow them, and an instant
after reaching the stomach they break, and let the ether escape. The effect is
a queer, agreeable sensation. If you should ever need a sedative, I
recommend them to you.
You must have been sadly struck with the wintry aspect of southern
France, coming as you did from Africa. Whenever I return from Cannes I
am always shocked at the appearance of the bare trees and the moist, dead
earth. I am awaiting your gebira with the keenest interest. If the embroidery
is as marvellous as that on the tobacco pouch which you sent me, it must be
admirable indeed. I hope you have brought back some gowns for yourself,
and quantities of pretty things which you will show me.
I do not know whether there are as many good Catholics at —— as there
are in Paris. The fact is, our drawing-rooms are no longer inhabitable. Not
only have those who were always devout become bitter as verjuice, but all
the ex-Voltairians of the political opposition have turned papists. I find
consolation in the thought that some of them feel obliged to attend mass,
which must be somewhat of a bore to them. My former professor, M.
Cousin, who used never to speak of the pope other than as the bishop of
Rome, has been converted and does not miss a mass. It is said, even, that
M. Thiers is becoming pious, but it is difficult for me to believe this,
because I have always been partial to him.
I can understand that you may not be able now to tell me, even
indefinitely, when you intend to return to Paris, but let me hear as soon as
you know anything to tell. I shall be tied here as long as the session
continues....
 Tell me, dear friend, how you are after so many fatigues and tribulations
on land and sea. Good-bye. Take good care of yourself, and write to me
promptly and often....
 CCXXXVI
Paris, Wednesday, April 24, 1861.
I am writing the history of a bandit Cossack of the seventeenth century,
named Stenka Razine, who was killed in Moscow with horrible tortures,
after he had hanged and drowned a great number of boyards, and had
maltreated their women in true Cossack fashion. I will let you read it when
it is finished, if I ever reach the end of it. Good-bye, dear friend. Give me
news of yourself....
I am leading a most disquieting and uncomfortable life, thanks to the
Institute affairs and the petition of Madame Libri....
 CCXXXVII
Paris, May 15, 1861 (The Senate).
Dear Friend: For several days I have been so busy that I have delayed
writing to you. I wished to ask you to return my visit. I am a prey at the
present moment of the herrings which the seals of Boulogne have stirred up
to torment us, and I am expecting the Maronites to finish us. This means
that we, in this establishment,[27] are in the midst of a bitter discussion
about herrings, and that we are threatened with daily sessions. However, it
can not last much longer, I hope.
I am working every night, and am happy to have reached the tortures
which my hero was made to suffer, so you see I am near the end. It is a long
work, not very interesting, and most horrible. I will let you read it when it is
published. What do you think of Macaulay? Is he as interesting as in the
beginning?
Is it true that all the herring fishermen of Boulogne are thieves, who buy
herrings caught by the English and pretend to have caught them
themselves? Is it true, also, that the herrings have been seduced by the
English, and that they no longer pass near our coasts?
 CCXXXVIII
Château de Fontainebleau, Thursday, June 13, 1861.
Dear Friend: For two days I have been here, recuperating, with great
enjoyment, among the trees, after my tribulations of the last week.[28] I
suppose you read of the affair in the Moniteur. I have never in my life seen
people so wild, so senseless as magistrates. For my consolation, I say to
myself that twenty years from now, when some antiquarian shall poke his
nose into the Moniteur of this week, he will say that he has discovered in
1861, in an assembly of young fools, a philosopher full of moderation and
calmness. This philosopher is myself, and I say it without vanity.
In this country, where magistrates are recruited from the ranks of men
too stupid to earn their living as lawyers, they are ill-paid, and to get on
with them they are privileged to be insolent and quarrelsome. Happily, it is
all ended at last. I have done what I ought to do, and if it were possible, I
should reopen the case for the petition of Madame Libri.
I was cordially received here, and have not been laughed at on account
of my defeat. I expressed my opinion of the affair very plainly, and have
had no intimation of any disapproval of my judgment. After all the
excitement of these last days, I feel as if an enormous weight had rolled off
my back. The weather is superb, and the air of the woods delicious. There
are few people here. My hosts are, as usual, extremely kind and friendly.
We have with us the Princess Metternich, who is very vivacious, after
the German fashion—that is to say, she has created for herself a kind of
originality composed of two parts of rapid woman and one of great lady. I
fancy she has not wit enough to sustain the rôle she has adopted. To-day we
are going hunting. The evenings are a little tedious, but they do not last
forever. I expect to be here a week longer; my official duties hold me here,
however, only until Sunday. If I remain beyond that time I shall let you
know.
Good-bye, dear friend. Some one has come for me.
 CCXXXIX
Château de Fontainebleau, Monday, June 24, 1861.
Dear Friend: I have not budged from here, and shall remain until the
end of the month, thanks, no doubt, to Cæsar. I told you that I had a
sunstroke, and for twenty-four hours was in a very dangerous condition. I
have entirely recovered now, but am suffering from lumbago, which I
caught rowing on the lake....
I am waiting impatiently for news from you, but fear that I am somewhat
to blame. I promised to write to you if I left Fontainebleau, but what can I
do? One does nothing here, and yet one is never free. Sometimes we are
called on to walk in the woods, sometimes to make a translation. Most of
the time is spent in waiting. The great accomplishment of the country is to
know how to wait—a part of my education which I find it difficult to
acquire.
At this moment our chief expectation is centred in the Siamese
ambassadors, who will arrive Thursday. Some say that they will present
themselves on all-fours, after the custom of their country, crawling on their
knees and elbows; others add that they will lick the floor, sprinkled with
candy in view of this performance. Our ladies imagine that they are to
receive wonderful gifts. I believe they will bring nothing at all, and that
they will expect to carry away many beautiful things.
I went last Wednesday to Alise with the emperor, who has become an
accomplished archæologist. He spent three and a half hours on the
mountain, under the most terrific sun in the world, examining the remains
of the siege of Cæsar, and reading the Commentaries. We lost all the skin
from our ears, and came back looking like chimney-sweeps. We spend our
evenings upon the lake, or under the trees, looking at the moon and wishing
for rain. I suppose you have the same weather at N——. Good-bye, dear
friend. Take care of yourself; do not expose yourself to the sun, and let me
hear from you.
 CCXL
Château de Fontainebleau, June 29, 1861.
Dear Friend: I received the cigar-case, which is charming even to my
eyes, which have just seen the gifts of the Siamese ambassadors. Our letters
crossed. I am so busy here doing nothing that I have had no time to write.
At last we are all leaving to-night, and I shall be in Paris when you receive
this letter.
We had, on Tuesday, a passably good ceremony, quite like that in the
Bourgeois Gentilhomme. It is impossible to conceive of a more singular
spectacle than that of a score of black men, with a strong resemblance to
monkeys, dressed in gold brocade, and wearing white stockings and patent-
leather shoes, with sword at their sides, all flat on their stomachs, crawling
on knees and elbows along the Henri II gallery, carrying their noses as high
as the backs of those who preceded. If you have ever seen the advertisement
on the Pont Neuf, “The Dog’s Good-morning,” you may form some idea of
the scene.
The first ambassador had the hardest time. He wore a felt hat
embroidered in gold, which danced on his head at every movement, and,
besides, carried in his hands a bowl of gold filigree, containing two boxes,
in each of which was a letter from their Siamese majesties. The letters were
in silk and gold purses, and the whole thing extremely rich.
After having delivered the letters, when they tried to turn around,
confusion reigned in the embassy. There were kicks from behind into faces,
swords thrust into the eyes of those on the second row, who in turn were
putting out the eyes of the third row. The spectacle resembled a troop of
cockchafers on a carpet.
The Minister of Foreign Affairs had invented this charming ceremony,
and had required the ambassadors to crawl. The Asiatics are supposed to be
more guileless than they are, and I am confident that they would have found
no fault had they been permitted to walk. The whole effect of the crawling
was lost, however, because the emperor became impatient at last, rose,
made the cockchafers rise, and conversed in English with one of them. The
empress kissed a little monkey which they had brought with them, and
which is said to be the son of one of the ambassadors; he ran on all-fours
like a little rat, and had an intelligent expression.
The temporal king of Siam sent his portrait to the emperor, and that of
his wife, who is hideously ugly. But you would have delighted in the variety
and beauty of the stuffs which they brought. They are of gold and silver,
woven so delicately that they are perfectly transparent, and resemble the
light clouds of a beautiful sunset. They presented the emperor with trousers,
the legs of which are embroidered with small designs in enamel, gold, and
green; and a waistcoat of gold brocade as soft as a silk handkerchief, the
patterns of which, gold worked on gold, are marvellous. The buttons are of
gold filigree, with small diamonds and emeralds. They have a red gold and
a white gold, which when used together produce an admirable effect.
In short, I have never seen anything more stylish, and at the same time
more elegant. What strikes one as singular in the taste of these savages is
that, while they use only dazzling silks, gold and silver thread, there is
nothing conspicuous in their stuffs. The materials are combined in
marvellous taste, producing a quiet, harmonious effect.
Good-bye, dear friend. I expect to make a visit to London, where I have
business connected with the Exposition. This will be about July 8th or 10th.
 CCXLI
London, British Museum, July 16, 1861.
I see by your last letter, dear friend, that you are as busy as a
commander-in-chief on the eve of a battle. I have read in Tristram Shandy
that in a house where a woman is in child-birth, all the women assume the
privilege of ill-treating the men; this is the reason I have not written to you
sooner. I was afraid you would treat me in a manner befitting your lofty
grandeur. I hope, however, that your sister is safely delivered, and that you
are relieved of all anxiety. Still, I should be glad to have your official
opinion, but this does not mean that you are to send me a bulletin of printed
information.
People here are talking of nothing but the affair of M. de Vidil. I have
known him slightly in London and in France, and considered him a great
bore. Here, where they are just as gullible as in Paris, there has been a
furious outburst of resentment against him. He is known to have killed his
wife, and probably many other persons. Now that he has been acquitted,
sentiment has changed completely, and if he has a good lawyer he will clear
himself, and we shall weave crowns for him.
You may or may not know that there is a new chancellor, lord B——,
who is old, but whose morals are not. A lawyer named Stevens sends his
clerk with a card to the chancellor. The clerk inquires for him; he is
informed that my lord has no house in London, but that he comes often
from the country to a house in Oxford Terrace, where he has a lodging. The
clerk goes to the house, and asks for my lord. “He is not here.” “Do you
think he will return for dinner?” “No, but to sleep, certainly; he comes here
every Monday night to sleep.” The clerk leaves the letter, and Mr. Stevens
is now greatly astonished because the chancellor glowers at him. The truth
of the matter is, that my lord has there a clandestine establishment.
I have been in London since Thursday, and have not yet had a moment
of rest. I am running about from morning until night. Every day I am
invited out to dinner, and in the evening there are concerts and balls. I went
to a concert yesterday at the marquis of Lansdowne’s. There was not a
pretty woman present, which is unusual here, but, on the other hand, they
were dressed, all of them, as if the chief dispenser of styles at Brioude had
made their gowns. I never saw anything to equal their head-dress. One old
woman had a crown of diamonds composed of small stars, with a huge sun
in front, precisely like the wax figures at a fair! I think of remaining here
until early in August. Good-bye, dear friend....
 CCXLII
London, British Museum, July 25, 1861.
... I pass my time here monotonously enough, although I dine out every
day at a different house, and see people and things I have not seen before. I
dined yesterday at Greenwich with some great personages, who tried to
make themselves lively, not, like the Germans, by throwing themselves out
of the window, but by making a vast amount of noise. The dinner was
abominably long, but the whitebait was excellent.
We have unpacked here twenty-two cases of antiquities from Cyrenaica.
There are two statues and several busts which are truly remarkable,
belonging to a good period and thoroughly Greek; one Bacchus especially,
although a little delicate, is fascinating. The head is in an extraordinary state
of preservation.
M. de Vidil is properly and duly committed, and will be tried at the next
assizes. He will not be allowed to give bail. It seems, however, that the
worst that may happen to him is to be sentenced to two years’
imprisonment, for the English law recognises murder only in the event of
the victim’s death; and, as Lord Lyndhurst said to me, a man must be a great
bungler in England to allow himself to be hanged.
I went, the other evening, to the House of Commons and heard the
debate on Sardinia. It is impossible to be more verbose, more flat, and more
insignificant that most of the orators, notably lord John Russell, now simply
lord Russell. Mr. Gladstone pleased me. I hope to return to Paris the 8th or
10th of August, and to find you quietly resting in some sort of solitude. I
think my health is better than in Paris; nevertheless, the weather is
atrocious.
I was interrupted in my letter to visit the Bank of England. I held in my
hand four small packages which contained four million pounds sterling, but
I was not permitted to carry them away. That would have occasioned the
writing of two volumes. I was shown a pretty machine, which counts and
weighs daily three million sovereigns. The machine hesitates an instant, and
after a brief deliberation throws the genuine sovereigns to the right and the
counterfeit to the left. There is one that looks like a little ape. A bank-bill is
presented to him, he bends his head and kisses it twice, leaving on the bill
certain marks which the counterfeiters have not yet succeeded in imitating.
Finally, I was taken into the vaults, where I fancied myself in one of
those grottoes described in the Thousand and One Nights. They were lined
with bags of gold and bullion, which sparkled in the gas-light. Good-bye,
dear friend....
 CCXLIII
Paris, August 24, 1861.
Dear Friend: I have arrived at last, in not too good a state of
preservation. I do not know whether it is from eating too heartily of turtle-
soup, or from running about too much in the sun, but I have had a return of
those pains in the stomach, which for some time had left me in peace. I am
taken in the morning about five o’clock, and they continue an hour and a
half. I suppose one suffers in somewhat the same way when one is hanged.
This does not inspire in me any desire to be suspended!
I found awaiting my return more work than I like. Our imperial
commission for the Universal Exposition is in travail; we are exhausting all
our eloquence in persuading those who have pictures to lend them to us to
send to London. Besides the obvious indiscretion of the proposition, it
happens that most owners of private collections are Carlists or Orleanists,
who think they are doing a pious act in refusing us. I fear we shall cut a
poor figure in London next year, and all the more since we shall exhibit
only works done during the last ten years, while the English will exhibit the
products of their school since 1762.
How did you find the heat of the tropics? It is a consolation to read, in
the papers which I receive, that in Madrid it was forty-four degrees, which
is the temperature of the hot season in Senegal. There is no one in Paris,
which suits me perfectly. I spent six weeks dining out, and it is a relief now
not to be obliged to put on a white cravat for dinner. I visited the duke of
Suffolk for a week, however, in a charming castle in almost absolute
solitude. The country is level, but is covered with immense trees; and there
is an abundance of water, so that the sailing is excellent. The place is quite
near some fens, and is the region from which Cromwell sprang. There is an
enormous quantity of game, and one can not take a step without running the
risk of treading on pheasants or partridges.
I have no plans for the autumn, except that, if Madame de Montijo
should go to Biarritz, I shall visit her there and spend a few days. She is still
in sorrow, and I find her more desolate than she was last year at the time of
her daughter’s death.
 It seems to me you have acquired a great fondness for that host of
children. I can not understand this. I suppose you allow yourself to assume
all the care of them, according to your habit of submitting to oppression, so
long as it does not come from me. Good-bye, dear friend....
 CCXLIV
Paris, August 31, 1861.
Dear Friend: I have received your letter, which seems to indicate that
you are happier than you have been in a long time. I am rejoiced at it. There
is in me little disposition to be fond of children; still, I can understand how
one should be attached to a little girl as to a young cat, an animal with
which your sex has many points of resemblance.
I am still ill and suffering, and am awakened every morning in a state of
suffocation, which soon passes. The solitude here is still complete. I
happened in at the Imperial Club yesterday and found there but three
persons, and they were asleep. The weather is insupportably warm and
sultry; as a change, they write me from Scotland that for forty days it has
rained in torrents, in consequence of which the potatoes are ruined and the
grain killed.
I am taking advantage of my solitude to work on something which I
promised my master, and which I should like to take to him at Biarritz, but I
am making slow progress. I have the greatest difficulty in doing anything at
all, as the least excitement causes me intense suffering. I hope, however, to
finish before the end of next week....
I have for you a copy of Stenka Razine. Remind me to give it to you
when I see you, and also to show you the portrait of a gorilla which I drew
in London, and with whom I was on terms of intimacy; ‘tis true, he was
stuffed.
I am reading little but Roman history; nevertheless, I have read with
great pleasure the nineteenth volume of M. Thiers. It seems to me to be
more carelessly written than the preceding volumes, but it is full of curious
things. In spite of his desire to say ill of his hero, he is continually carried
away by his involuntary affection for him. He tells me that he will finish the
twentieth volume in December, and that he will then make a trip around the
world, or else go to Italy.
There are stories of Montrond which interested me immensely; only I
regretted that he could not have heard them told while he was in this world.
It seems to me that M. Thiers describes him fairly enough, as an adventurer
in love with his trade, and honest in his dealings with his principals so long
as he was in their employ—quite like Dalgetty in the Legend of Montrose.
Judging by what I can see, our artists accept kindly the little rule which
we have outlined for the Exposition in London; but when they shall see the
position given them, I am not sure but they will throw baked apples at us. I
have succeeded in extracting from M. Duchâtel the promise to lend us The
Spring of M. Ingres. Good-bye, dear friend.
 CCXLV
Biarritz, September 20, 1861.
Dear Friend: I am still here, like the bird on the branch. It is not the
custom to form plans in advance; on the contrary, never until the last
moment does one make a resolution. Nothing has been said as to the time of
our departure, yet the days are growing shorter. The most tedious time of
the day is the evening; it is cold after dinner, and with the arrangement of
doors and windows invented here it is impossible to keep warm. All this
makes me think that we shall not stay here much longer.
I am thinking of making a visit to M. Fould, at Tarbes, so that I may
profit by these last beautiful days; after that I shall return to Paris, where I
shall hope to find you settled. The sea air is doing me good. My breathing is
better, but I sleep badly. ‘Tis true, I am immediately on the sea-shore, where
the slightest wind makes a terrible uproar.
As in all imperial residences, the time is spent here in doing nothing,
while waiting for something to happen. I work a little; I sketch from my
window, and walk a great deal. There are few people stopping at the
Eugénie Villa, and they are people whom I like well enough. While the days
here have twenty-four hours, as they have in Paris, I find that the time
passes without much difficulty....
We took a charming walk yesterday along the Pyrenees, near enough to
see the mountains in all their glory, yet not near enough to suffer from the
incessant inconvenience of climbing and descending them. We lost our way,
and met no one who understood our beautiful French language. This always
happens as soon as one passes beyond the outskirts of Bayonne.
The Prince Imperial yesterday gave a dinner to a flock of children. The
emperor himself made champagne for them out of seltzer-water, which had
the same effect as if they had drunk real wine. In a quarter of an hour they
were all tipsy, and my ears still ache from the racket they made.
Good-bye, dear friend. I have had the temerity to promise to translate for
his Majesty a Spanish memoir on the site of Munda, and I have just made
the discovery that it is terribly difficult to translate.
 You may write here until the 23d or 24th. Send your letters after that to
M. Fould, at Tarbes. Good-bye.
 CCXLVI
Paris, November 2, 1861.
My eyes are so bad that I did not recognise you at once the other day.
Why do you come into my quarters without forewarning me? The person
who was with me asked who the lady was with such beautiful eyes.
I spend all my time working like a negro slave for my master, whom I
shall go to see in a week. The prospect of eight days in knee-breeches is
somewhat terrifying. I should prefer to spend them out in the sunshine, and
I begin to long for that time. On the other hand, the session with which we
are threatened is maddening to me. I can not understand why Government
business is not transacted in summer....
I have for you a book which is not altogether stupid. My memory is
failing, and I have had a volume bound, when I already had a copy. You see
what you will gain by it.
I have recovered almost entirely from my stiff neck, but for several
nights I have been up so late that I am extremely nervous and exhausted.
When we meet we will converse on metaphysics. ‘Tis a subject for which I
cherish a great fondness because it is inexhaustible. Good-bye, dear friend.
 CCXLVII
Compiégne, November 17, 1861.
Dear Friend: We are to remain here until the 24th. It is the fault of his
Majesty, the king of Portugal, that the fêtes, for which we have been
making ready, were not given. They were postponed, and we have been
kept here in consequence. We are comfortable enough, inasmuch as we are
all well acquainted, and as independent of one another as it is possible to be
in such a place.
For lions we have four Highlanders in kilts, the duke of Athol, lord
James Murray, and the son and nephew of the duke. It is most amusing to
see these eight bare-knees in a salon where all the rest of the men are in
knee-breeches or tight trousers. Yesterday, his grace’s piper was brought in,
and all four danced in such a way as to cause general alarm when they
turned around. But there are ladies whose crinoline is still more alarming
when they enter a carriage. As ladies invited as guests are not permitted to
wear mourning, one sees legs of all colours. Red stockings I think very
stylish.
Notwithstanding walks in damp, icy woods, and drawing-rooms heated
red-hot, to the present time I have not caught cold; but I suffer from
suffocation, and do not sleep. I was present at the great ministerial comedy,
where one or two victims more were expected. The faces were interesting to
observe, the addresses still more so; so that M. Walewski, the Excellency on
trial, directed his grievances without any discrimination against friends and
foes alike. There is nothing like an intense preoccupation to make people
say stupid things, especially when they are accustomed to saying them. Oh,
the dulness of mankind!
The woman, on the contrary, was perfectly calm and self-possessed, and
the lawyers’ speeches and other proceedings excellent. The battle, it seems
to me, is only postponed, and at the slightest provocation is inevitable.
What is said of the emperor’s letter? I approve of it thoroughly. He has a
way of his own of saying things, and when he speaks as a sovereign, he has
the art of showing that he is not made of the same common dough as others.
I think this is exactly what is needed by this noble nation, which does not
like the commonplace.
Yesterday the princess of ——, who was drinking tea, ordered the
footman to bring her ti sel bour le bain.[29] After half an hour the footman
returned, with twelve kilogrammes of coarse salt, supposing that she wished
to take a salt bath.
Some one presented to the empress a picture by Müller representing
queen Marie Antoinette in prison. The Prince Imperial inquired who this
lady was, and why she was not in a palace. It was explained to him that she
was a queen of France, and what a prison was. Then he ran to the emperor
and asked him please to pardon the queen whom he was keeping in prison.
He is a strange, sometimes a terrible, child. He says that he bows to the
people always, because they deposed Louis Philippe, whom he did not like.
He is a charming child. Good-bye, dear friend.
 CCXLVIII
Cannes, January 6, 1862.
(I no longer remember dates.)
Dear Friend: I shall not tell you of the sunshine of Cannes, for fear of
causing you too great distress amidst the snows in which you must be at this
moment. What is written to me from Paris makes me cold just to read. I
suppose you must be still at R——, or on the journey therefrom; so that I
shall take my chances in addressing this to your official residence, as the
surest place for you to be found.
I have here, as companion and neighbour, M. Cousin, who came to be
cured of laryngitis, and who talks like a one-eyed magpie, eats like an ogre,
and is astonished not to recover under this beautiful sky, which he now sees
for the first time. He is, moreover, very interesting, for he possesses the gift
of being witty to everybody. When alone with his servant, I fancy that he
talks to him as he would to the most coquettish Orleanist or Legitimist
duchess. The native Cannais are fascinated by him, and you may imagine
how they will stare when they are informed that this man, who talks well on
any subject, has translated Plato, and is the lover of Madame de
Longueville. The only inconvenience is that he does not know when to stop
talking. For a philosopher of the Eclectic school, it is a pity not to have
adopted the good features of the Peripatetics.
I am not doing much of anything here. I am studying botany in a book
and with the plants which fall under my hand, but every instant I bewail my
bad sight. It is a study which I should have begun twenty years ago, when I
had my eyes. It is, however, very amusing, although supremely immoral,
since for one lady there are always at least six or eight gentlemen, all eager
to offer her what she accepts with much indifference from the right and the
left. I regret exceedingly not to have brought my microscope; still, with my
spectacles I have seen stamens making love to a pistil without showing any
embarrassment at my presence.
I am sketching also, and am reading in a Russian book the history of
another Cossack, a much better soldier than Stenka Razine, named,
unfortunately, Bogdan Chmielnicki. With a name so difficult to pronounce,
it is not astonishing that he has remained unknown to us Occidentals, who
remember only names of Latin or Greek derivation.
How has the winter treated you? and how do you manage the little
children who absorb so much of your time? Apparently you find the
bringing up of children an amusing occupation. I have had experience only
in raising cats, who have given me scant satisfaction, excepting the last one
who had the honour to know you. The intolerable thing about children, it
seems to me, is that you must wait so long to know what they have in their
brains, and to hear them reason. It is a great pity that the trouble taken in
cultivating the youngsters’ intelligence can not be undertaken by the chits
themselves, and that new ideas come to them almost unconsciously. The
principal question is, to know whether they should be taught silly things, as
we were, or whether we should talk to them reasonably. There is something
to be said for and against both systems.
Some day, when you pass Stassin’s, kindly look in his catalogue for a
book by Max Müller, a professor in Oxford, on linguistics; unfortunately I
do not recollect the title of the book. You must tell me if it costs very much,
and if I shall be obliged to forego my fancy to possess it. I am told it is an
admirable analysis of language.
I have made the acquaintance of a poor cat who lives in a hut back in the
woods. I take him bread and meat, and as soon as he spies me coming he
runs a quarter of a mile to meet me. I regret that I can not take him away
with me, for he has marvellous powers of instinct.
Good-bye, dear friend. I hope this letter will find you in as good health
and as flourishing condition as last year. I wish you a prosperous and happy
New Year....
 CCXLIX
Cannes, March 1, 1862.
... You are very good to think of my book in the midst of all your cares.
If you can have it for me by the time I return I shall esteem it a great favour,
but do not give yourself much trouble about it.
My cousin’s fête-day went completely out of my head, and I recalled it
the other day only when it was too late. When I return we will talk the
matter over, if you please. Every year it becomes more embarrassing, and I
have exhausted the possibility of rings, pins, handkerchiefs, and buttons. It
is deuced hard to invent something new!
As for novels, the difficulty is equally great. In this class of books I have
just read a few rhapsodies that deserve nothing less than corporal
punishment. I am going to spend three days in the mountains, at Saint
Césaire, beyond Cannes, at the home of my doctor, who is a man of the
kindest impulses. Upon my return I shall begin to think seriously of starting
for Paris.
I do not regret in the least having been absent from all the hubbub that
has gone on in the Luxembourg, and which was worthy of fourth-form
schoolboys. Even less do I regret that I took no share in the elections or,
rather, the preliminary elections, which were held at the Academy the other
day.
We are at this time in subjection to the clericals, and soon, in order to be
recognised as a candidate, it will be necessary to produce a certificate of
confession. M. de Montalembert gave such a certificate of Catholicism to a
friend of mine, who, to be sure, is from Marseilles, but who had the good
sense to offer no objection. Up to the present these gentlemen are not
troublesome, but with time and success they are in danger of becoming so.
You can imagine nothing prettier than our country in fine weather. This
is not the case to-day, however, for something extraordinary, it has been
raining since morning. All the fields are covered with violets and anemones,
and with quantities of other flowers whose names I do not know.
Good-bye, dear friend. Soon I shall see you, I hope. I wish to find you
again in the same excellent condition in which I left you two months ago.
Do not grow thin or stout, do not worry too much, and think of me now and
then. Good-bye.
 CCL
London, British Museum, May 12, 1862.
... So far as the Exposition is concerned, frankly, it cannot compare to
the first: to the present time it is much of a fiasco. It is true that all the
goods are not yet unpacked, but the building is horrible. Although of vast
size, it does not appear so. One must walk about and lose himself in it
before he realises its extent. Every one says there are many beautiful things
to be seen. As yet I have examined only Class 30, to which I belong and of
which I am the reporter.
I find that the English have made great progress in taste and in the art of
decoration. We make much better furniture and wall-paper than they, but we
are in a deplorable position, and if it continues we shall soon be
outdistanced. Our jury is presided over by a German who thinks he can
speak English, and whom it is well-nigh impossible to understand.
Nothing is more absurd than our meetings; no one has an idea of the
subject under discussion; nevertheless, we vote. The worst is, that in our
department we have several English manufacturers, and we shall be
compelled to give these gentlemen medals which they do not deserve.
I am besieged by invitations to addresses and receptions. I dined day
before yesterday with Lord Granville. There were three small tables in a
long gallery, which arrangement was intended to make the conversation
general; but as the guests were scarcely acquainted with one another, there
was very little talking.
At night I went to Lord Palmerston’s, where were present the Japanese
embassy, who got caught on all the women with the immense sabres which
they wore at their belts. I saw some very beautiful women, and some very
abominable ones; all of them made a complete exhibition of their shoulders
and bosoms, some admirable, others extremely hideous, but both shown
with the same impudence. I think the English are no judges of such things.
Good-bye, dear friend....
 CCLI
London, British Museum, June 6, 1862.
Dear Friend: I begin to catch a glimpse of the end of my troubles. My
report to the International Jury, written in the purest Anglo-Saxon, without a
single word derived from the French, was read by me yesterday, and the
matter is concluded in that quarter. There remains another report for me to
make to my own Government. I think I shall be free in a few days, and I
may be able, probably, to leave for Paris from the 15th to the 20th of this
month. It will be well for you to write to me before the 15th, where you will
be then and what your plans are.
I think, decidedly, that the Exhibition is a fiasco. In vain do the
Commissioners advertise extensively and sound the trumpet; they cannot
succeed in attracting a crowd. To pay expenses, they need fifty thousand
visitors a day, and they are far from realising their expectations.
Fashionable people do not attend since the admission has been reduced to a
shilling, and common people do not seem to feel any interest in it. The
restaurant is detestable. The American restaurant is the only one that is
interesting. There you may order drinks more or less diabolical, which are
taken with straws: mint julep, or “corpse reviver.” All these drinks are made
of gin, more or less disguised.
I have invitations to dinner for every day until the 14th. After that I shall
make a visit to Oxford, in order to see Mr. Max Müller, and to examine
some old manuscripts in the Bodleian Library. I shall then leave. I am tired
to death with British hospitality and with its dinners, all of which seem to
have been prepared by the same inexperienced cook. You cannot imagine
how eagerly I long to eat my own plain soup. By the way, I do not
remember if I told you that my old cook was to leave me, to go to live on
her property. She has been with me for thirty-five years. This is
exasperating to the last degree, for nothing is so disagreeable to me as new
faces.
I do not know which of two important events of the last few days has
produced the greater effect: one, the defeat of two favourites at the Derby
by an unknown horse; the other, the over-throw of the Tories in the House
of Commons. These have overspread London with gloomy countenances,
all extremely unpleasant to behold. A young lady in a box swooned away on
learning that Marquis was beaten a head’s length by a rustic horse minus a
pedigree. M. Disraeli puts on a better countenance, for he shows himself at
all the balls. Good-bye, dear friend.
 CCLII
Paris, July 17, 1862.
I shall not try to express all the regrets I feel. I wish that you might have
shared them. If you had had half as much as I, you would have found a
means of making others wait for me.
Since your departure I have endured some painful experiences. My poor
old Caroline died at my home, after great suffering; so now I am without a
cook, and do not know exactly what I shall do. After her death her nieces
came to dispute her estate. One of them, however, took her cat, which I
intended to keep. She left, it seems, an income of twelve or fifteen hundred
francs. It has been demonstrated to me that she could not have saved that
amount from the wages which she earned with me, and yet I do not believe
she ever robbed me. If she did, I would agree willingly to be robbed in that
way always. I have had a strong desire to have a cat like the late Matifas,
who approved of you so heartily, but I am going soon on a journey to the
Pyrenees, and I shall have no time to train him.
They tell me the waters of Bagnères-de-Bigorre will do me the most
good. I have no faith in their curative powers, but the surrounding
mountains are beautiful, and I have friends in the vicinity. M. Panizzi will
come for me the 5th of August, and we shall return together by way of
Nîmes, Avignon, and Lyons. I shall hope to reach Paris the same time that
you do.
Madame de Montijo arrived last week: she is greatly changed, and
distressing to see. Nothing consoles her for the death of her daughter, and
she seems to me less resigned than when the shock came. I dined last
Thursday at Saint Cloud, with a few intimate friends, and enjoyed it not a
little. They are less popish, I fancy, than is generally supposed. They
allowed me to be as critical as I pleased, without calling me to order. The
little prince is charming. He has grown two inches, and is the prettiest child
I have ever seen.
To-morrow our work on the Campana Museum will be finished. The
sympathisers of the purchasers are enraged, and hurl abuse at us in the
papers. We should have a long story to tell if we wished to bring to light all
the absurdities they have committed and the rubbish which has been palmed
off on them for genuine antiques.
It is horribly warm here, but I do not find it uncomfortable. They say it is
good for the grain. Good-bye, dear friend....
 CCLIII
Bagnères-de-Bigorre, Villa Laquens,
Hautes-Pyrénées, Saturday,
August 16, 1862.
Dear Friend: I have been here for three days with M. Panizzi, after a
most fatiguing journey under a frightful sun. He left us (it is the sun of
which I speak) day before yesterday, and we are now having weather
worthy of London, with fog, and an imperceptible, drizzling rain, which
soaks through to your very bones.
I have met here one of my friends, who is the resident physician. He has
made a thorough examination of me, punched me in the back and chest, and
discovered that I have two mortal diseases, of which he has undertaken to
cure me, provided that I drink every day two glasses of warm water, the
taste of which is not bad, and which does not give me palpitation of the
heart, as ordinary water does. I am to bathe, moreover, in a certain spring of
which the water is hot, but which is very agreeable to the skin. It seems to
me that the treatment is doing me much good. I have rather disagreeable
palpitation in the morning, and I sleep badly, but have a good appetite.
According to your manner of reasoning, you will conclude that I am going
to have a marvellous cure.
There are few people here, and almost no one of my acquaintance, which
pleases me to excess. The crops of Englishmen and prunes have been this
year a complete failure.
As for beauties, we have Mademoiselle A. D——, who made at one time
a tremendous impression on Prince ——, and on the swells. I do not know
what disease she has, I have seen only her back, and she has the most
immense crinoline in all the place.
There are two balls given every week, to which I have no intention of
going, and amateur concerts, of which I have heard and shall hear but one.
Yesterday, I had to undergo high mass, which I attended accompanied by a
body-guard; but I declined the invitation of the under-prefect at night, so as
not to suffer too great an accumulation of catastrophes in one day.
 The country is very lovely, but I have as yet had only a glimpse of it. I
shall paint as soon as there is a ray of sunshine. What has become of you?
Write to me. I should love to show you the incomparable verdure of this
country, and especially the beauty of the waters, with which crystal would
not be a worthy comparison. It would be pleasant to talk with you in the
shade of the great beech-trees. Are you still under the charm of the sea and
the sea-monsters? Good-bye, dear friend.
 CCLIV
Bagnères-de-Bigorre, September 1, 1862.
Dear Friend: I thank you for your letter. I shall send this to N——,
since you do not intend to stop in Paris, and I fancy that you have already
arrived there.
Speaking of the quarrels of the fisher folk, you have experienced that
which happens inevitably to a resident of Paris. The little disputes and the
little interests of the provinces seem so petty and so pitiable, that one
deplores the condition of people who live there. It is certain, however, that
after a few months in the country one does as the natives do: one becomes
interested in local affairs, and finally completely provincial. This is sad for
human intelligence, but it accepts the nourishment offered, and makes the
best of it.
Last week I made an excursion into the mountains to visit a farm
belonging to M. Fould. Situated on the border of a small lake, before it lies
the most superb panorama imaginable, and immediately surrounding it is a
forest of noble trees, something rarely seen in France. One can live there in
admirable comfort. M. Fould owns a great many superb horses and cattle,
all cared for in the English fashion. I was shown, besides, a jack used for
the breeding of mules. He is an enormous beast, as tall as a gigantic stallion,
black, and wicked-looking, as if he were enraged. It seems that it is with the
greatest difficulty that he can be prevailed upon to show any attention to the
mares. A jenny is brought near him, and when his imagination has become
fired, the mare is then produced. What do you think of human ingenuity,
which has invented all these fine industries? You will be furious with my
stories, and I can see your expression from here.
Society becomes every day more stupid. In this connection, have you
read Les Misérables, and heard what is said of it? This is another instance in
which I find the human race inferior to that of the gorilla.
The waters are doing me good. I sleep better and have some appetite,
although I do not take much exercise, because my companion is not very
active. I expect to remain here almost a week still; I may then go to Biarritz,
or else into Provence. We have abandoned the plan of making a visit to
Lake Majeur, since the house where we were going cannot entertain us at
this time. I shall be in Paris, at the very latest, by October 1st.
Good-bye, dear friend; good-bye, and write to me.