TO M. DE GUÉRIN.
PARIS, NOV. 6, 1838.
Never was a day more charming, for it began with Grembert's arrival, and it ends with a letter to you, my dear papa. . . The wedding day is fixed for the 15th. Last Sunday the bans were published for the last time at l'Abbaye-aux-Bois. . .
You ask if I have everything I need, and if I am satisfied in every respect with my Parisian life. Yes, dear papa, in every sense, and especially for this reason, that I admire the care and assistance that Providence bestows upon us in all places. I have never been struck so forcibly with the abundant aids to piety anywhere as in Paris; every day there are sermons in one place or another, associations and benedictions. If the devil reigns in Paris, perhaps God is served there better than in other places. Good and evil find here their utmost expression; it is Babylon and Jerusalem in one. In the midst of all this, I lead my customary life, and find in my Abbey everything I need. M. Legrand is a friend of l'Abbé de Rivières, holy and zealous like him, and full of kindness. He provides me with books and with kind and gentle advice; it will not be his fault if I don't improve very much. One can save one's soul anywhere. . .
Our quarter of Cherche Midi is charming. M. d'Aurevilly calls it Trouve Bonheur, an appropriate name so far Maurice is concerned. He will be happy, as happy as he can be--at least everything looks hopeful. He could not be allied to better souls. Caroline is an angel; her pure, tender soul is full of piety. You will be pleased with her, and with Maurice too, who only does things slowly, as his fashion is; but there is much to thank God for in such conduct, which is very rare among young Parisians. M. Buquet speaks very highly of him; he will bless the marriage, much to our gratification. The great day, which is to open a new life to our Maurice, engrosses us in a thousand ways. He is the most peaceful person concerned, and regards his future and all these affairs with admirable sang-froid. M. Buquet says the fellowship is worth nothing to him, and that he will find something else for him; so you see he is established in the good nest Providence has provided for him, without troubling yon.
Have I told you everything, and made you see thoughts, words, and actions, just as you like? Eran is reading the paper and warming himself. Everybody sends you kisses, and Caro her filial affection. Yon would do well not to go to Rayseac when it is cold or rainy. Advice given, and bulletin finished, I throw my arms around your neck, and pass on to Mimi.
----
You dear Mimi, I thank you more than I can express for your night letter, written in defiance of sleep. Poor Mimi, plagued and busy, while I play the princess in Paris! This thought comes to me often in the day, disturbing my repose a little, my gentle quietude. I say to myself that our time is differently employed, but I help you in my heart. We are as well as possible here and at Auguste's. Don't let Euphrasie leave you, I beg and beseech; you would be too lonely without her gaiety and kindness. I put both my arms around her to keep her. M. le Curé is very good to come and amuse papa: it is an act of friendly charity that I shall not forget Remember me to him and to Mariette. Also to Augustine, Jeanne-Marie, the shepherd, Paul, and Gilles, and thank them all for their compliments. Good-by, with a kiss from Maurice, Caro and myself.
----
TO THE SAME.
Nov. 7, 1838
I shall write to you every day until I receive letters from home, that you may see that I do not forget you, dear inhabitants of Le Cayla. The whirlwind of Paris will not blow me away yet awhile. That remark of papa's made me laugh, and showed me that he does not know me yet. I am very sure that you, Mimi, had no such idea. I have told you that I lead the same life here as at Le Cayla, and with this [{478}] advantage, that there is nothing to worry me, for I have a church within reach, and entire liberty. We are all busy with spiritual matters now--our ladies with theirs and I with mine. Maurice is consigned to Sunday, M. Buquet's only free day. All is going on well in this respect, and Caroline is so edifying that she seems to be following in Mimi's footsteps. In this too I admire the workings of Providence in using this marriage as an occasion of salvation.
It is beautiful to-day, one of those fine days so rare in Paris, where the sky is almost always pale and cloudless. This struck me at first, but now I am used to it as to other things that I see. I am used to carriages, and am no more afraid of there running over me than of Gilles' cart. We shall go in the sunshine to see Mme. Lamarlière Auguste, and I don't know whom besides, for there is no end to visits when one is once in train. In going to see our cousin at M. Laville's, Erembert and Maurice met M. Lastic, who is living in Paris. It is astonishing how many acquaintances one meets in the great world where one thinks one's self unknown.
Indians visit here, Indians without end. A friend of Maurice's, H. Le Fèvre came to spend the evening; a nice little young man, who looks very gentle and refined. He asked me when I was going to see my good friend De Maistre; he is a friend of M. Adrien's, who is at present wandering amid the snows of Norway, so that he can not come to the wedding. We shall muster pretty strong, though only the indispensable will be there.
. . . 13th. We have just come from the Pantheon, a church passed over from God to the Devil, from St. Genevieve to the heroes of July, and to Voltaire and Rousseau. It is an admirable work of art, however; the interior, the dome, and the crypts, gloomy, secluded, buried beneath vaults and only lighted here and there with lamps, are quite effective. The imagination would easily take fright in this darkness of death, or of glory if you choose, for all the dead are illustrious there, as in the Elysium of which Voltaire and Rousseau are the gods. In the depths of the crypt stands the statue of Voltaire, smiling apparently at the glory of his tomb, which is decorated with magnificent emblems. That of Rousseau is more severe--a sarcophagus, from which a hand is thrust forth, bearing a torch, "that illumines and ever shall illumine the world," according to our guide, who was a cicerone as brilliant as the lantern he carried. The summit of the dome is at a prodigious elevation, twice the height of the steeple of Ste. Cécile. Paris is seen beautifully from there, but the picture needed sunlight and there was none. Good-by; to-morrow at this time Maurice will be married at the Mayoralty, and day after tomorrow in church.
16th. Yesterday was the grand and solemn day, the beautiful day for Maurice, Caro and all of us. We only needed you, papa, and Mimi, to complete our happiness, as we all said with sincere regret. You would have been delighted to see this family festival, the most beautiful I ever witnessed. Everything went smoothly, the weather was soft and pleasant, and God seemed to smile on the marriage, so suitably it was conducted, and in such a Christian manner. How pretty Caro was in her bridal dress, and wreath of orange flowers under her veil à la Bengali! and Maurice looked well too. H. Angler was so charmed that he wanted to paint them in church, kneeling on their crimson Prie-Dieu. The church displayed all its grandeur, and the organ playing during mass was very good. M. Buquet blessed the marriage, and said mass, assisted by M. Legrand. Many of the beau monde were present, and a dozen carriages stood before the church doors. Soeur d'Yversen was to be there. M. Laurichais, confessor to our ladies, in short all the friends and relations united their prayers and good wishes during the ceremony. I send M. Buquet's discourse, which every one thought perfect. Why can't I add to it his kindly voice, and the look of joy and emotion with which he spoke to Maurice, whom he loves sincerely.
You will like to know, papa, how everything passed off on the memorable day, and I like very much to describe it, for it seems as if you would be able to share our pleasure, and see your children in church, at dinner and at the evening party. The dinner was charming, like every thing else, each course served elegantly; fish, meats, dessert and wines. The turkey, dressed with our truffles was king of the feast. We drank freely and merrily of Madeira and Constance, and it all seemed like the marriage of Cana. I sat between Auguste and M. d'Aurevilly, very charming neighbors, and we talked and laughed very pleasantly, though Auguste scolded me for having no poetry, which he felt disposed to read, and we had never thought of writing; there's something bettor for Caro, which comes from the heart and will be unfailingly hers every day. How modest she was in church, and how pretty she looked in the evening! She was quite the queen of the occasion. A dozen ladies came, all very elegant, and I don't know how many men, friends of Maurice's. They were very gracious, and asked me to dance; yes--dance! M. le Curé had better take holy water and exorcise me. I danced with my groomsman, Charles; it was de rigueur, and I could not decline without being conspicuous, and playing [{479}] the not very amusing part of wall-flower. Auguste performed his paternal duties admirably. He begs me to say a word of commendation for him, and I might well say a hundred in praise of his friendship and devotion to us.
The friend referred to in the following letter, and with whom Mlle. de Guérin left Paris early in the December of 1838, was the Marie to whom she wrote the two delightful letters, introduced into the sixth and seventh books of her journal. Mme. la Baronne Henriette Marie de Maistre was the sister of M. Adrien de Sainte Marie, a friend of Guérin's, and her intimacy with Eugénie had its first foundation in ceremonious notes written about Maurice when he was ill with a fever at Le Cayla in 1837. Mme. de Maistre soon became endeared to Eugénie by her fascinating powers of attraction, and also by her mental and physical sufferings, for sufferers belonged to the "dove of Le Cayla" by natural right.
TO MLLE. LOUISE DE BAYNE.
Paris, Dec. 1, 1838.
M. de Frigeville is the most gracious, amiable, and obliging of men. At length I found out his address, and sent my parcel with a little note, which he answered at once, and followed in person the next day. The good man had taken infinite pains to find me and ended by applying to the police--a last resource that amused us a good deal. We cannot profit by the acquaintance even now, or by his offers of politeness "for anything in his power," as he expressed himself to our ladies, for I was out when he came,--the fates are against me. Mlle. Laforêt thought him very agreeable and exquisitely courteous. I send this little notice of him for you, dear friend, and make use of the chance to write to you up to the last moment.
I am going to the country, to another Rayssac, for Les Coynes is among the mountains;--shall I find another Louise there? She is a little like you, I think; but, my friend, you will always be my friend. I will write to you from there if you like. Whom and what shall I see? Everything looks very attractive, and yet I go forward with timidity to meet these unknown and known. Pity my wandering life, dragged from place to place;--no, do not pity me, for it is the will of heaven, and all we have to do is to follow the hand that leads us without reasoning: that alone sustains and consoles us, teaching us to turn all things to account for heaven. I am less attracted to the world than ever; there is more calmness and happiness within Sister Clementine's door than in any place in the world. I went to see her yesterday, but she was to be in retreat until Monday, much to my regret, for I love to see and listen to these good religious, these souls set apart from the world. . . I should like to send you something charming and worthy of Paris, but charming things are rare everywhere; so rare that I have none to spare today. However, I did see the outside of Versailles;--the king was expected, so they shut the gates on us. Did I tell you of this, and of our royal wrath? perhaps I did in my last letter.
I should have described the concert to you this morning, if Maurice, who was to have been my escort, had not been taken ill just as we were going;--pain instead of pleasure, no uncommon change in life. His little wife, quite crimson with emotion, began to nurse him and make much of him, and all grew calm under her gentle influence. I hope Maurice will be happy with her,--I do not know any woman like her in disposition, heart, or face. She is a foreigner, and I study her, that I may adapt myself to her, and enter into her feelings if she cannot into mine. There must be mutual concessions of taste and ideas among us all, to ensure affection and family peace:--that you see everywhere, but we shall have no difficulty with one so amiable and generous. There is not a day when I do not receive proofs of affection from my charming foreign sister. They always speak of her to us as the Indian. Mme. Lamarlière thought her very charming;--pretty and well dressed. Today a bulletin of the visit and her toilette is at Gaillac, and I am sure that it is all over town by this time that the Indian wore a dress of soie antique, a black satin shawl, trimmed with blond and lined with blue, a lace collar, and a black velvet hat with ostrich plume, "overwhelming heaven and earth," as Mme. Lamarlière says
Good-by, my dear. I kiss you and say love me, think of me, believe me, write to me, talk of me. Love to you all.
One word more; I like to talk to you best because we seem to understand each other. I will say good-by soon, for two o'clock is striking and I have an appointment in my chapel at l'Abbaye-aux-Bois, for I wish to put my conscience in order before going away. I do not know to whom I shall have recourse in the country, so far from any church. Fortunately, we [{480}] are to spend Christmas at Nevers, and I shall try to grow calm, for I am not so today. I tell you this because you are alone with Pulchérié, whom nothing surprises. Pray in the chapel at Rayssac for your poor friend, the Parisian, who will repay you as well as she can. Good-by, good-by; till when? . . .
TO MLLE. DE BAYNE.
CHRISTMAS EVE, NEVERS, 1888.
I have only time to date my letter, dear friend, for the bells are calling me to midnight mass. I listen to their clashing peals, and think of the pretty little tinkle of the Andillac bell. Who would have said last year that I should be so far away? but so God leads us to things unforeseen. I'm going to the cathedral to pray for all whom I love, and so for you.
Two days since those lines--two days of festival, prayer, offices, and letters written and received, without preventing me from being with you, my dearest. Our hearts can always be together before God, and we cannot meet in a better way or in any other way for a long time. I shall not be at Le Cayla before the fine weather comes, and we can have flowers and sunshine to show our Indian; far enough we are from that season, as I see by the white earth and pallid sky, all snowy and cold.
How you would love my friend, dear Louise! She is so good, so charming and attractive, and of such a high order of mind, that I keep congratulating myself upon possessing her friendship and affection. . .
Her father takes the best of care of me, and even comes to my room to see if I have a good fire when I say my prayers. He is afraid this cold climate may hurt me, and said laughing one very cold day, "The southern flower will be frozen." Good, holy man! I love him very much, and he makes me think of your father in his mode of thought and culture. He has read everything, and he writes too; some selections from his works, that he was kind enough to read to me, might have been written by a Benedictine. He knows Carmelites, Trappists, charitable orders, every one in short who is learned or religious. Charles the Tenth loved him and saw him often; if he had only listened to him!
Travellers from Goritz come here, among others a M. de Ch----, who comes and goes for the exiles, from St. Petersburg to Vienna and sometimes to Spain, from one court to another. He charms us with stories of his adventures, and I never saw a man more agreeable, handsome, witty or cultivated. He is a learned geologist, and collects specimens, goes down into volcanoes and domesticates himself among ruins.
He lived a week in Sallust's room at Pompeii, drove about the streets in his carriage, entered the theatre, made excavations under the very eyes of the Duchess of Berry, and saw a thief whom the lava had caught while he was stealing a purse, at which we laughed, and remarked that iniquity is sooner or later discovered. I have seen his cabinets of natural history, mineralogy, and antiques, and also the borders of Cicero's dining-hall exquisitely painted with a delicacy inimitable or unimitated. To all these gifts, M. Ch---- unites those of a good Christian; he turns all his studies and discoveries to advantage for the faith, and proves that science and faith, geology and Genesis, are of one accord. If you think me very learned, remember that I've seen Paris, and that Paris sharpens one's wits; however, most of this I have acquired in the neighborhood of Les Coques.
TO MLLE. MARIE DE GUÉRIN.
NEVERS JANUARY 12.
We return to Paris early in January, and shall be introduced to the grandeurs of the world. Hitherto I have known only amiable, pretty simplicity; now come baronesses, duchesses, princesses, and as many clever people as I choose. It will amuse me like a picture-gallery, for the heart finds no place among such scenes, far less the soul. God and the world do not agree. Ah me! how little they think of heaven amid all this rush and sparkle! So says my friend, who knows the world and is detached from it.
M. d'Aurevilly, in his unpublished reminiscences of Mlle. de Guérin, gives a graphic description of her as she appeared in the Parisian world, where no doubt she was subjected to a close scrutiny as the sister of the elegant and gifted Maurice de Guérin.
"We can affirm," he says, "that never did creature of worldly attractions appear to us so sweet and lovely as this charming fawn, reared like St. Genevieve among pastours. . . .
"Drawn from her country home, brought in state like a princess into the intimidating light of lustres, she came without embarrassment or awkwardness, with a chaste, patrician self-possession, that showed in spite of fortune's wrongs for what class in society she was born. Without ever having been there, she was Faubourg Saint Germain, Byron tells us in his [{481}] memoir that he witnessed the introduction of Miss Edgeworth into London society, and that she made him think of Jeanie Deans. But the country girl of La Cayla was the descendant of the fairest falcon-bearers who appear in the mediaeval chronicles, gloved with buckskin, corseleted with ermine, and wearing a train. . . . This was what we admired, this was what impressed the world, astonished at her who did not wonder at them. If, in speaking of such a woman, I dared to use an expression debased to theatrical uses in our times, I should say that she had a great success wherever she went. Women whispered together about her genius for expression and the feeling revealed in her letters; but no one offered her the prying importunities so coarsely mistaken sometimes for homage. They did not call her interesting or amusing, as the world says, patting a proud cheek with its awkward, familiar hand. They respected her. The world treated her as a woman of the world, for that is what it holds in highest esteem; but she knew that she was not so. She knew that there was a second meaning in the world's language that escaped her, as she said once with her accent in a letter, but what observer would have guessed it in seeing her? Excepting now and then a charming swallow-glance, piercing the tapestry and seeking the wall at Le Cayla covered with honeysuckle and wall-wort, who would have doubted that this tranquil maiden was a woman of the world, capable of pleasing it, and of ruling it too, had she thought it worth her while?
Mlle. de Guérin had one of those imaginations that are easy to live with. She did not offend common people, those sensitive, coarse souls to whom the least distinction causes terrible pain, and who push their way everywhere, even in the country. They handled with their rough touch this divine opal with its vaporous shades, as indifferently as the mock ivory counters on their card-tables. Though she did not resemble a sphinx, this lovely maiden with her lingering smile, there was perhaps in her placid regularity the immovability of the sphinx, and immobility suits all things. It lends a mystery to nature, and takes from human beings the puppet-like gesticulation that ever mars the lofty Sidera Vultum.
And now we will return to Eugénie's letters, dated once more from Paris, where she was staying with the Baroness de Maistre, and seeing the world in a more brilliant light than in her visits to the Rue Cherche-Midi, and at the house of "Auguste and Félicité;" but it never dazzled her eyes, no matter how brightly it shone and glittered.
TO M. DE GUÉRIN.
Paris, Jan. 20, 1839.
You have had a line from me almost every day, dear papa, but I will write more at length to-day.
The good General called here as soon as he heard of my return from Nevers; but to tell the truth his visits are not entirely for me, for he finds Caroline so pleasing, that I think our Indian has her full share of the kind old gentleman's friendship. One day he came when she was dressing a doll in Indian fashion, for the little De Maistres, and he was so delighted that he insisted on working himself, and wished to stay till the end of the toilette, which was unluckily interrupted by visitors. The Marquis left us, but Caro wrote to him the next day that the Indian lady was ready, and would be charmed to be presented to him, so the good man came, passed the afternoon with us, and offered to take us today to M. Aquado's museum of painting. We shall go, for it is said to be very beautiful, and afterward we are to see the interior of the Palais Royal. There is nothing we may not expect of the good Marquis, and we owe a great deal of pleasure to Palchérie, who has already received my acknowledgments. I send a package to Rayssac with this one.
We have no want of friends in Paris, dear papa. How can I say enough of the perfect family I have just left, who are untiring in their friendships and kindness! I am engaged, to go to-morrow, Saturday, to a large and elegant party at M. de Neuville's, [Footnote 83] but I shall give up my place to Eran, who will go with Mme. de Maistre. There will be a sort of reunion of beauties of every country--English, German, [{482}] Spanish, and the lovely ambassadress from the United States.
[Footnote 83: Ex-Minister to Charles X.]