VII
Painful Separation—Arrival at Bellevue—Powers given to Cooper—His Swindling—The Ills he made me suffer—Fresh Attempts of Alquier-Caze—Distraint on my Effects—My Move to the Hôtel Britannique—Letters from my Husband and my Son—My Grief and my Resolves.
Immediately after Cooper’s departure I began to prepare. The owner of Coligny was inexorable; I had to pay him the whole year’s rent.
But this loss was very small compared with another much greater one. It would be vain to try to describe how my maternal heart was torn, when I thought I was forsaking my dear son. How difficult it was, what restraint I had to use, what efforts to make, not to break down when the dear boy asked me with sorrowful and almost prophetic voice: “Maman, Maman, what are you going to do?”
And all I could say in answer was: “My darling, I am going to work for the good of you and your dear brothers.”
Before the fatal day he spent two with me, and his loving caresses were sweet but incurable wounds to my soul.
No—I will not attempt to describe that cruel parting; I will not speak of it. I will only say that, absorbed in my own thoughts, despite the numerous requests to do so, I could not bear once to look at the sublime and delightful beauties of nature, which had always had so great a charm for me.
After a journey of four days we passed through Paris, and arrived at Bellevue near Meudon.
One of the chief reasons that had induced me to go to the scene of action was the inclination my husband and his confidant had shown to try the plan of compromise with my adversary; and I was quite resolved to make an eternal protest against that kind of baseness. But once on the spot, I thought there was nothing to fear. Deeds, papers, documents, got together with difficulty by my constant care—all were handed over without misgiving, and the full powers demanded by Cooper at once given him.
But that was not enough; he must seize my whole fortune. My income was now reduced to £1,700 sterling a year; he had already taken £1000 for the rent of the house; but he could not be satisfied till he got hold of the £700 I still had to dispose of.
To this end, he got together some infamous assistants, with whom he worked upon the Baron’s mind with shameless cunning, and they came all together to propose my giving the rogue fresh powers to raise my funds in England, under pretext of the enormous expenses my case would entail.
No more powerful motive could have been offered me; after a few short explanations, I signed a paper, which I had not even been asked to read.
So now Cooper was absolute master of my property; there was nothing more for him to ask for: he had got it all.
And now the important trial for which I had already made such great sacrifices would surely make mighty strides towards the desired event?
By no means; Cooper isn’t even giving it a thought; anyhow there is nothing to prove that he is. But he is always talking to me in a hopeful strain, so important is it to him to keep his post as director of a sham piece of work which, without care or trouble, ought to bring him in 45,000 francs a year!
But the agreement as to rent and stewardship was very ill carried out; for several weeks carriage, horses, servants could not be found; our rooms lacked the most necessary pieces of furniture, and my table displayed such parsimony that I should infallibly have died of hunger if I had not taken care to get in from outside something to live upon.
I might have borne with this economical diet patiently if I could have got any satisfaction about the great business; but nothing was got ready, nothing begun. At last I saw that I was the victim of the basest imposture; and when I reflected on all the deeds my weakness had allowed to be extorted from me, I realized all the horror of my position.
Forthwith I burst into bitter complaints. Cooper, in a rage, threw away his mask, and might have said—
“C’est à vous de sortir, vous qui parlez en maître;
La maison m’appartient.…”
And truly, my own agreement in his hand, he ruled like a despot over the house he had let to me for 25,000 francs; and to make me feel the full weight of his authority, he redoubled his economies, kept under lock and key even the garden seeds which I was no longer allowed to gather for my birds; spoke haughtily to me; poured out abuse on me, and, in a sort of way, kept me under close surveillance.
He had then his mother and sister with him, two veritable furies who joined in all his excesses; and as on every occasion they gave way to their fiery passions, several conflicts took place.
No—I can never understand how my husband could restrain himself under such circumstances!
While I was being thus tormented by my new swindler, Alquier-Caze did not lose sight of me, and still speculating brilliantly on my easy credulity, he endeavoured to approach me once more through this very specious preamble.
“Milady, no doubt you will be astonished at receiving a letter from me; this is what has induced me to write to you.
“This morning a person I do not know, and who would not tell me his name, came to see me. He told me where you are living, and talked a great deal about your case. I cannot and will not trust to paper the communications he made me. They are of importance to you and your position.
“Although I cannot feel much flattered that, being in this country, you have not come to see one who took so much trouble for you, I can never cease to participate in your troubles, and I believe it will be in your interest to tell you what I have learnt.
“I am free only on Sunday. If you think it well for me to come and see you, answer at once, and the day after to-morrow I will be with you.
“Please be prudent and tell no one of my letter, etc.”
Curiosity to see him rather than any hope of hearing anything useful decided me to allow him to come. He came, and his constrained manner and ambiguous language soon betraying to me his deceitful plot, I treated him with icy coldness, and made him clearly see that for the future I would have nothing more to do with him. I heard afterwards that his numerous misdeeds had forced him to leave France.
In the meantime I had written to England with orders that the last power of attorney I had so rashly given to the cheat Cooper should not be honoured.
On the first hint of this being learned by my odious agent, he flew into a frightful rage; loaded me with insults, threatened me with his wrath, and put in a distraint on all my effects, to which I responded by a revocation of all the powers I had given him.
We could no longer live with such a scoundrel; so we left Meudon on September 1, 1828, and established ourselves in the Hôtel Britannique.
I need hardly say that on the day we left we had to submit to the grossest of insults in the shape of a ridiculous and minute examination to make sure, as they said, that we had committed no theft.
As I pretty often reproached the Baron for having caused me so many discomforts, I thought I saw that my words had a great effect on him, and his mind seemed much upset. On the fourth day after our change of residence, I saw him go out with a paper in his hand, and asking him when he would be back, he said: “In an hour’s time.”
While waiting, I went for a walk with my son’s former tutor, and on getting back, my first question to the portress was whether my husband had come in.
As she answered in the negative, I ordered dinner to be put off; but the Baron did not return. I began to feel great anxiety, fearing that something had happened to him; but at eight o’clock in the evening I received a packet containing a power of attorney for Ragazzini and a letter for me in these words—
“My dear Wife,
“I am distressed at having to leave you just now; but business I can’t put off longer calls me to Russia. I beg your pardon for not having told you sooner; but I acted in this way so as to avoid the harrowing scenes that would have followed. My agitation is so great that I can say nothing to you but that my conscience does not accuse me of all the wrongs you impute to me. I have told M. Ragazzini to act for you against Driver-Cooper. Some day, I hope, we shall meet again under a more lucky star than the present one. I participate in all your troubles, but I cannot help you. Adieu; tout à vous.
“B. de Sternberg.”
It will well be believed that I cannot describe the grief I felt at finding myself forsaken by him who had so disastrously involved me in so grievous a strife. But his pitiless hand was to strike me a still harder blow.
About the end of the week I received the following letter—
“My dearest Maman,
“My father has just arrived in Geneva, and intends to start for Russia to-morrow with me. I already hear your reproaches; but what can I do?
“Forgive your loving son, and don’t think him ungrateful; for I am ready to put my head in the fire if that would be any good to you.
“But what would become of me if I did not obey my father’s orders? Don’t be afraid; you will always have the whole of my filial love.
“How cruel it is to tear me in this fashion from my darling mother! But what can be done? If you had stayed at Coligny, and if you had listened to my advice, this would not have happened.
“I am hurried. Be comforted; you shall soon have news of me, and believe me always the most loving of your sons.
“Edward Sternberg.”
What I felt on reading this was not grief; it was despair. For several days I gave myself up completely to the most acute anguish; at times I wanted to start for Russia; at others I resolved to let myself die.
But at last real maternal love triumphed over affliction, and I realized that it was necessary for the good of my children both to go on living and to remain in France.
Taking fresh courage, I formed the unshakable resolution to suffer and face everything, that I might gain a victory to the advantage and honour of those who were so dear to me in this world.