The Catholic World Volume Iii Part 80

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. Laforet 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. Lamarliere 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. Lamarliere 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 Pulcherie, 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 ma.s.s. 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d, 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 Sall.u.s.t's room at Pompeii, drove about the streets in his carriage, entered the theatre, made excavations under the very eyes of the d.u.c.h.ess 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 GUeRIN.

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, d.u.c.h.esses, 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.

G.o.d 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 Guerin, 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 Guerin.

"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 l.u.s.tres, she came without embarra.s.sment or awkwardness, with a chaste, patrician self-possession, that showed in spite of fortune's wrongs for what cla.s.s 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 coa.r.s.ely 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 Guerin had one of those imaginations that are easy to live with. She did not offend common people, those sensitive, coa.r.s.e 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 Eugenie'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 Felicite;" but it never dazzled her eyes, no matter how brightly it shone and glittered.

TO M. DE GUeRIN.

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, pa.s.sed 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 Palcherie, 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, Sat.u.r.day, 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 amba.s.sadress from the United States.

[Footnote 83: Ex-Minister to Charles X.]

'Twill be a pretty sight for anyone who likes society, but I refuse as often as possible. However, I cannot help going to M. de Neuville's, for he has been so gracious to Erembert. I have seen the Baroness de Vaux, Henry Vth's Joan of Arc, who, in 1830, asked an officer of the Royal Guard to rout Philip, herself and her sword at their head. She is a man-woman in figure and energy. Now she is devoted to G.o.d, visiting prisons and exhorting those who are condemned to death. With all this she has a charming simplicity. I am to make other acquaintances, whom I shall describe to you. All this does not prevent my thinking of Le Cayla very, very often, and longing impatiently for the month of May,--I shall go with Erembert at the beginning of Lent if I can. Mmes. de Maistre and de St. Marie beg to be remembered to you. "They think Caro charming, as fascinating as possible," said Henriette, and indeed she was radiant the evening they saw her. She is prettier than before her marriage, and she is an excellent little wife, as devoted to Maurice as he is to her. They are happy, and Maurice is most exemplary; a hundred times better than last year, as he says himself. His confidence in me is unchanged and we talk very intimately;--he longs to see you, and thinks very often of Mimi;--we shall all be glad to meet at Le Cayla. Sat.u.r.day I shall think of you, Mimi, at St. Thomas Aquinas', where we are to hear l'Abbe Dupanloup, [Footnote 84] who is also to give the Lenten instructions. There is no lack of teaching in Paris, but the well taught are very rare;--the more one sees of the world, the more glaring appears the ignorance of essential things.

Soeur d'Yversen comes now and then to see us; she has mentioned to me Mme. L----, who would like to know us, but we know, so many people already, that I've lost all desire for new acquaintances. Our whole time slips away in dressing and receiving or making visits, so that one can hardly read or work at all. The Lastics have been here, Mme. Resaudiere, the Barrys, an English family who like Maurice very much, and an infinity of other people whom I do not know even by name. Then the De Maistres and the acquaintances they make for me;--you see I have more than I need.

[Footnote 84: Now Mgr. Dupanloup, Bishop of Orleans.]

Oh! how I shall rest at Le Cayla. I shall feel the contrast so much, pa.s.sing from the whirlwind of Paris to the calm of the fields, from the rolling of carriages to the little rumble of carts, from Paris noises to the cackling of our hens;--it all seems to me very charming without thinking of you and Mimi;--how I long to kiss you!

They treat me very well here, and I am spoiled by everybody. My health is good, so don't be anxious about me. How does Winter treat you in the new parlor? Better no doubt than it did in the hall. "Is Wolff banished from the parquet?" Maurice asks. Pa.s.sing from parlor to kitchen, tell me how all our people are. I'm sorry about the partridge.

May 9th.--We heard M. de Ravignan Sunday at Notre Dame. It is curious to see this a.s.semblage of men, a sea of people overflowing the immense cathedral to listen to one voice--but such a voice! From time to time some stricken soul, some young man in doubt or conviction, seeks the orator as a confessor. Then too they rush to see plays, and Mlle. Rachel draws at least as great a crowd to the theatre as M. de R. does to the cathedral. I'm not surprised at the enthusiasm of the Castrais about this young marvel. She is ugly, though, at least so I am told by those who have seen her off the stage. Alas! the profanity of my words in Lent!

TO H. DE GUeRIN.

Paris; March and April, 1839.

This bit of a letter, will tell you, dear papa, that I am with my poor invalid friend, waiting for M. Dupanloup, and that catching sight of an ink-stand, I am going on with my writing at the expense of the sacristy. But I will put a sous in the box for my ink, and my paper too, as I mean to steal a sheet to go with these; if we are left alone long enough. Now and then a peaceable abbe or sacristan pa.s.ses through, glancing at us, and looking rather astonished at my office improvised in the sacristy. But M. D.'s name protects us, and we need only mention him to get a safe-conduct... .

Never was there such a holy week--continual agitation and running about. Andillac is better than Paris for recollection; but G.o.d is everywhere and in all things, if we know how to find Him. Poor dear papa, I have prayed well for you in these beautiful monuments of Notre Dame, St. Roch, and others that we have visited. I thought of yon in the simple little chapel of Andillac. I suppose they used the new chapel for the tomb, or Paradise, as they call it here.

Was there ever such a piece of scribbling as this letter--begun, left, begun again, in so many places? Now I am at Maurice's, after sitting five hours for my portrait, which M. Angier kindly insists on painting for you, and for your sake, I have submitted. Dear papa, my painted self will go with Eran, who has had his likeness taken too, and, happier than I am. {483} is to see you and kiss you, and talk to you of Paris, and many, many other things.

My absence is to be prolonged more than I supposed, but how could I refuse these good friends a request they had such a right to ask?

They will be grateful to you, I a.s.sure you.

I shall bring you the little book of poetry that you care for so much;--it is now in the hands of Count Xavier, which will be its greatest glory, I have been presented to this celebrated and charming man, who was very kind and gracious; he loves his cousin, and under her patronage I could not but be well received. We found him alone in his room, reading the office of Holy Week;--he must be religious, being a worthy brother of his Brother Joseph. Thus he is consoled for his great griefs, for the death of his three children at eighteen or twenty years of age.

The same evening, they took me to the great Valentino concert of eighty musicians. I had been there once before. There is much more to be seen here, but one might spend a thousand years in Paris, and leave many things unseen. I value more the knowledge of persons than of things.

I am uneasy about your health, however well Mimi may take care of you; be very careful of yourself.

Good-by, dear papa, good-by, dear Mimi.

I have no time to write to you. Maurice sends to papa M. de Luzerne's _reflections_ upon the Gospels. Good-by to all.

I send a waistcoat to Pierril and an ap.r.o.n to Jeanie; to you and all everything that can reach your hearts. Thank M. Angler for his kindness, when you write to Maurice. My portrait must be finished at Le Cayla, for I found it impossible to have a sitting to-day. I do not want to leave you, and yet good-by. I will write to you from Nevers. Erembert will be much pleased to see you again; I see already the happy day of arrival.