My dear Louise,--I was bound to wait some time before writing to you;
but now I know, or rather I have learned, many things which, for the
sake of your future happiness, I must tell you. The difference between
a girl and a married woman is so vast, that the girl can no more
comprehend it than the married woman can go back to girlhood again.
I chose to marry Louis de l'Estorade rather than return to the convent;
that at least is plain. So soon as I realized that the convent was the
only alternative to marrying Louis, I had, as girls say, to "submit,"
and my submission once made, the next thing was to examine the situation
and try to make the best of it.
The serious nature of what I was undertaking filled me at first with
terror. Marriage is a matter concerning the whole of life, whilst love
aims only at pleasure. On the other hand, marriage will remain when
pleasures have vanished, and it is the source of interests far more
precious than those of the man and woman entering on the alliance. Might
it not therefore be that the only requisite for a happy marriage was
friendship--a friendship which, for the sake of these advantages, would
shut its eyes to many of the imperfections of humanity? Now there was
no obstacle to the existence of friendship between myself and Louis
de l'Estorade. Having renounced all idea of finding in marriage those
transports of love on which our minds used so often, and with such
perilous rapture, to dwell, I found a gentle calm settling over me.
"If debarred from love, why not seek for happiness?" I said to myself.
"Moreover, I am loved, and the love offered me I shall accept. My
married life will be no slavery, but rather a perpetual reign. What is
there to say against such a situation for a woman who wishes to remain
absolute mistress of herself?"
The important point of separating marriage from marital rights was
settled in a conversation between Louis and me, in the course of which
he gave proof of an excellent temper and a tender heart. Darling, my
desire was to prolong that fair season of hope which, never culminating
in satisfaction, leaves to the soul its virginity. To grant nothing
to duty or the law, to be guided entirely by one's own will, retaining
perfect independence--what could be more attractive, more honorable?
A contract of this kind, directly opposed to the legal contract, and
even to the sacrament itself, could be concluded only between Louis and
me. This difficulty, the first which has arisen, is the only one which
has delayed the completion of our marriage. Although, at first, I
may have made up my mind to accept anything rather than return to the
convent, it is only in human nature, having got an inch, to ask for an
ell, and you and I, sweet love, are of those who would have it all.
I watched Louis out of the corner of my eye, and put it to myself, "Has
suffering had a softening or a hardening effect on him?" By dint of
close study, I arrived at the conclusion that his love amounted to a
passion. Once transformed into an idol, whose slightest frown would turn
him white and trembling, I realized that I might venture anything. I
drew him aside in the most natural manner on solitary walks, during
which I discreetly sounded his feelings. I made him talk, and got him to
expound to me his ideas and plans for our future. My questions betrayed
so many preconceived notions, and went so straight for the weak points
in this terrible dual existence, that Louis has since confessed to me
the alarm it caused him to find in me so little of the ignorant maiden.
Then I listened to what he had to say in reply. He got mixed up in his
arguments, as people do when handicapped by fear; and before long it
became clear that chance had given me for adversary one who was the
less fitted for the contest because he was conscious of what you
magniloquently call my "greatness of soul." Broken by sufferings and
misfortune, he looked on himself as a sort of wreck, and three fears in
especial haunted him.
First, we are aged respectively thirty-seven and seventeen; and he could
not contemplate without quaking the twenty years that divide us. In the
next place, he shares our views on the subject of my beauty, and it is
cruel for him to see how the hardships of his life have robbed him
of youth. Finally, he felt the superiority of my womanhood over his
manhood. The consciousness of these three obvious drawbacks made him
distrustful of himself; he doubted his power to make me happy, and
guessed that he had been chosen as the lesser of two evils.
One evening he tentatively suggested that I only married him to escape
the convent.
"I cannot deny it," was my grave reply.
My dear, it touched me to the heart to see the two great tears which
stood in his eyes. Never before had I experienced the shock of emotion
which a man can impart to us.
"Louis," I went on, as kindly as I could, "it rests entirely with you
whether this marriage of convenience becomes one to which I can give
my whole heart. The favor I am about to ask from you will demand
unselfishness on your part, far nobler than the servitude to which a
man's love, when sincere, is supposed to reduce him. The question is,
Can you rise to the height of friendship such as I understand it?
"Life gives us but one friend, and I wish to be yours. Friendship is the
bond between a pair of kindred souls, united in their strength, and yet
independent. Let us be friends and comrades to bear jointly the burden
of life. Leave me absolutely free. I would put no hindrance in the
way of your inspiring me with a love similar to your own; but I am
determined to be yours only of my own free gift. Create in me the wish
to give up my freedom, and at once I lay it at your feet.
"Infuse with passion, then, if you will, this friendship, and let the
voice of love disturb its calm. On my part I will do what I can to bring
my feelings into accord with yours. One thing, above all, I would beg
of you. Spare me the annoyances to which the strangeness of our mutual
position might give rise to our relations with others. I am neither
whimsical nor prudish, and should be sorry to get that reputation; but
I feel sure that I can trust to your honor when I ask you to keep up the
outward appearance of wedded life."
Never, dear, have I seen a man so happy as my proposal made Louis. The
blaze of joy which kindled in his eyes dried up the tears.
"Do not fancy," I concluded, "that I ask this from any wish to be
eccentric. It is the great desire I have for your respect which prompts
my request. If you owe the crown of your love merely to the legal and
religious ceremony, what gratitude could you feel to me later for a
gift in which my goodwill counted for nothing? If during the time that I
remained indifferent to you (yielding only a passive obedience, such as
my mother has just been urging on me) a child were born to us, do you
suppose that I could feel towards it as I would towards one born of our
common love? A passionate love may not be necessary in marriage, but, at
least, you will admit that there should be no repugnance. Our position
will not be without its dangers; in a country life, such as ours will
be, ought we not to bear in mind the evanescent nature of passion? Is it
not simple prudence to make provision beforehand against the calamities
incident to change of feeling?"
He was greatly astonished to find me at once so reasonable and so apt at
reasoning; but he made me a solemn promise, after which I took his hand
and pressed it affectionately.
We were married at the end of the week. Secure of my freedom, I was able
to throw myself gaily into the petty details which always accompany a
ceremony of the kind, and to be my natural self. Perhaps I may have been
taken for an old bird, as they say at Blois. A young girl, delighted
with the novel and hopeful situation she had contrived to make for
herself, and may have passed for a strong-minded female.
Dear, the difficulties which would beset my life had appeared to
me clearly as in a vision, and I was sincerely anxious to make the
happiness of the man I married. Now, in the solitude of a life like
ours, marriage soon becomes intolerable unless the woman is the
presiding spirit. A woman in such a case needs the charm of a mistress,
combined with the solid qualities of a wife. To introduce an element
of uncertainty into pleasure is to prolong illusion, and render lasting
those selfish satisfactions which all creatures hold, and should shroud
a woman in expectancy, crown her sovereign, and invest her with an
exhaustless power, a redundancy of life, that makes everything blossom
around her. The more she is mistress of herself, the more certainly will
the love and happiness she creates be fit to weather the storms of life.
But, above all, I have insisted on the greatest secrecy in regard to
our domestic arrangements. A husband who submits to his wife's yoke
is justly held an object of ridicule. A woman's influence ought to be
entirely concealed. The charm of all we do lies in its unobtrusiveness.
If I have made it my task to raise a drooping courage and restore their
natural brightness to gifts which I have dimly descried, it must all
seem to spring from Louis himself.
Such is the mission to which I dedicate myself, a mission surely not
ignoble, and which might well satisfy a woman's ambition. Why, I could
glory in this secret which shall fill my life with interest, in this
task towards which my every energy shall be bent, while it remains
concealed from all but God and you.
I am very nearly happy now, but should I be so without a friendly heart
in which to pour the confession? For how make a confidant of him? My
happiness would wound him, and has to be concealed. He is sensitive as a
woman, like all men who have suffered much.
For three months we remained as we were before marriage. As you may
imagine, during this time I made a close study of many small personal
matters, which have more to do with love than is generally supposed. In
spite of my coldness, Louis grew bolder, and his nature expanded. I saw
on his face a new expression, a look of youth. The greater refinement
which I introduced into the house was reflected in his person.
Insensibly I became accustomed to his presence, and made another self
of him. By dint of constant watching I discovered how his mind and
countenance harmonize. "The animal that we call a husband," to quote
your words, disappeared, and one balmy evening I discovered in his stead
a lover, whose words thrilled me and on whose arm I leant with pleasure
beyond words. In short, to be open with you, as I would be with God,
before whom concealment is impossible, the perfect loyalty with which
he had kept his oath may have piqued me, and I felt a fluttering of
curiosity in my heart. Bitterly ashamed, I struggled with myself. Alas!
when pride is the only motive for resistance, excuses for capitulation
are soon found.
We celebrated our union in secret, and secret it must remain between us.
When you are married you will approve this reserve. Enough that nothing
was lacking either of satisfaction for the most fastidious sentiment, or
of that unexpectedness which brings, in a sense, its own sanction. Every
witchery of imagination, of passion, of reluctance overcome, of the
ideal passing into reality, played its part.
Yet, in spite of all this enchantment, I once more stood out for my
complete independence. I can't tell you all my reasons for this. To
you alone shall I confide even as much as this. I believe that women,
whether passionately loved or not, lose much in their relation with
their husbands by not concealing their feelings about marriage and the
way they look at it.
My one joy, and it is supreme, springs from the certainty of having
brought new life to my husband before I have borne him any children.
Louis has regained his youth, strength, and spirits. He is not the same
man. With magic touch I have effaced the very memory of his sufferings.
It is a complete metamorphosis. Louis is really very attractive now.
Feeling sure of my affection, he throws off his reserve and displays
unsuspected gifts.
To be the unceasing spring of happiness for a man who knows it and adds
gratitude to love, ah! dear one, this is a conviction which fortifies
the soul, even more than the most passionate love can do. The force
thus developed--at once impetuous and enduring, simple and
diversified--brings forth ultimately the family, that noble product of
womanhood, which I realize now in all its animating beauty.
The old father has ceased to be a miser. He gives blindly whatever I
wish for. The servants are content; it seems as though the bliss of
Louis had let a flood of sunshine into the household, where love has
made me queen. Even the old man would not be a blot upon my pretty home,
and has brought himself into line with all my improvements; to please me
he has adopted the dress, and with the dress, the manners of the day.
We have English horses, a coupe, a barouche, and a tilbury. The livery
of our servants is simple but in good taste. Of course we are looked
on as spendthrifts. I apply all my intellect (I am speaking quite
seriously) to managing my household with economy, and obtaining for it
the maximum of pleasure with the minimum of cost.
I have already convinced Louis of the necessity of getting roads made,
in order that he may earn the reputation of a man interested in the
welfare of his district. I insist too on his studying a great deal.
Before long I hope to see him a member of the Council General of the
Department, through the influence of my family and his mother's. I have
told him plainly that I am ambitious, and that I was very well pleased
his father should continue to look after the estate and practise
economies, because I wished him to devote himself exclusively to
politics. If we had children, I should like to see them all prosperous
and with good State appointments. Under penalty, therefore, of
forfeiting my esteem and affection, he must get himself chosen deputy
for the department at the coming elections; my family would support his
candidature, and we should then have the delight of spending all our
winters in Paris. Ah! my love, by the ardor with which he embraced my
plans, I can gauge the depth of his affection.
To conclude here is a letter he wrote me yesterday from Marseilles,
where he had gone to spend a few hours:
"MY SWEET RENEE,--When you gave me permission to love you, I began
to believe in happiness; now, I see it unfolding endlessly before
me. The past is merely a dim memory, a shadowy background, without
which my present bliss would show less radiant. When I am with
you, love so transports me that I am powerless to express the
depth of my affection; I can but worship and admire. Only at a
distance does the power of speech return. You are supremely
beautiful, Renee, and your beauty is of the statuesque and regal
type, on which time leaves but little impression. No doubt the
love of husband and wife depends less on outward beauty than on
graces of character, which are yours also in perfection; still,
let me say that the certainty of having your unchanging beauty, on
which to feast my eyes, gives me a joy that grows with every
glance. There is a grace and dignity in the lines of your face,
expressive of the noble soul within, and breathing of purity
beneath the vivid coloring. The brilliance of your dark eyes, the
bold sweep of your forehead, declare a spirit of no common
elevation, sound and trustworthy in every relation, and well
braced to meet the storms of life, should such arise. The keynote
of your character is its freedom from all pettiness. You do not
need to be told all this; but I write it because I would have you
know that I appreciate the treasure I possess. Your favors to me,
however slight, will always make my happiness in the far-distant
future as now; for I am sensible how much dignity there is in our
promise to respect each other's liberty. Our own impulse shall
with us alone dictate the expression of feeling. We shall be free
even in our fetters. I shall have the more pride in wooing you
again now that I know the reward you place on victory. You cannot
speak, breathe, act, or think, without adding to the admiration I
feel for your charm both of body and mind. There is in you a rare
combination of the ideal, the practical, and the bewitching which
satisfies alike judgment, a husband's pride, desire, and hope, and
which extends the boundaries of love beyond those of life itself.
Oh! my loved one, may the genius of love remain faithful to me,
and the future be full of those delights by means of which you
have glorified all that surrounds me! I long for the day which
shall make you a mother, that I may see you content with the
fulness of your life, may hear you, in the sweet voice I love and
with the thoughts, bless the love which has refreshed my soul and
given new vigor to my powers, the love which is my pride, and
whence I have drawn, as from a magic fountain, fresh life. Yes, I
shall be all that you would have me. I shall take a leading part
in the public life of the district, and on you shall fall the rays
of a glory which will owe its existence to the desire of pleasing
you."
So much for my pupil, dear! Do you suppose he could have written like
this before? A year hence his style will have still further improved.
Louis is now in his first transport; what I look forward to is the
uniform and continuous sensation of content which ought to be the fruit
of a happy marriage, when a man and woman, in perfect trust and mutual
knowledge, have solved the problem of giving variety to the infinite.
This is the task set before every true wife; the answer begins to dawn
on me, and I shall not rest till I have made it mine.
You see that he fancies himself--vanity of men!--the chosen of my heart,
just as though there were no legal bonds. Nevertheless, I have not yet
got beyond that external attraction which gives us strength to put up
with a good deal. Yet Louis is lovable; his temper is wonderfully even,
and he performs, as a matter of course, acts on which most men would
plume themselves. In short, if I do not love him, I shall find no
difficulty in being good to him.
So here are my black hair and my black eyes--whose lashes act, according
to you, like Venetian blinds--my commanding air, and my whole person,
raised to the rank of sovereign power! Ten years hence, dear, why should
we not both be laughing and gay in your Paris, whence I shall carry you
off now and again to my beautiful oasis in Provence?
Oh! Louise, don't spoil the splendid future which awaits us both! Don't
do the mad things with which you threaten me. My husband is a young man,
prematurely old; why don't you marry some young-hearted graybeard in the
Chamber of Peers? There lies your vocation.