Dear master,
If I am not at your house, it is the fault of the big Tourgueneff. I was getting ready to go to Nohant, when he said to me: "Wait, I"ll go with you the first of April." That is two weeks off. I shall see him tomorrow at Madame Viardot"s and I shall beg him to go earlier, as I am beginning to be impatient. I am feeling the NEED of seeing you, of embracing you, and of talking with you. That is the truth.
I am beginning to regain my equilibrium again. What is it that I have had for the past four months? What trouble was going on in the depths of my being? I don"t know. What is certain, is, that I was very ill in an indefinable way. But now I am better. Since the end of January, Madame Bovary and Salammbo have belonged to me and I can sell them. I am doing nothing about it, preferring to do without the money other than to exasperate my nerves. Such is your old troubadour.
I am reading all sorts of books and I am taking notes for my big book which will take five or six years to write, and I am thinking of two or three others. There will be dreams for a long time, which is the princ.i.p.al thing.
Art continues to be "in the marasmus," as M. Prudhomme says, and there is no longer any place in this world for people with taste.
One must, like the rhinoceros, retire into solitude and await one"s death.
CCLII. TO GUSTAVE FLAUBERT, in Paris Nohant, 15 March, 1873
Well, my old troubadour, we can hope for you very soon. I was worried about you. I am always worried about you. To tell the truth, I am not happy over your ill tempers, and your PREJUDICES. They last too long, and in effect they are like an illness, you recognize it yourself. Now, forget; don"t you know how to forget? You live too much in yourself and get to consider everything in relation to yourself. If you were an egoist, and a conceited person, I would say that it was your normal condition; but with you who are so good and so generous, it is an anomaly, an evil that must be combated. Rest a.s.sured that life is badly arranged, painful, irritating for everyone, but do not neglect the immense compensations which it is ungrateful to forget.
That you get angry with this or that person, is of little importance if it is a comfort to you; but that you remain furious, indignant for weeks, months, almost years, is unjust and cruel to those who love you, and who would like to spare you all anxiety and all deception.
You see that I am scolding you; but while embracing you, I shall think only of the joy and the hope of seeing you flourishing again.
We are waiting for you with impatience, and we are counting on Tourgueneff whom we adore also.
I have been suffering a good deal lately with a series of very painful hemorrhages; but they have not prevented me from amusing myself writing tales and from playing with my LITTLE CHILDREN. They are so dear, and my big children are so good to me, that I shall die, I believe, smiling at them. What difference does it make whether one has a hundred thousand enemies if one is loved by two or three good souls? Don"t you love me too, and wouldn"t you reproach me for thinking that of no account? When I lost Rollinat, didn"t you write to me to love the more those who were left? Come, so that I may OVERWHELM you with reproaches; for you are not doing what you told me to do.
We are expecting you, we are preparing a mid-Lent fantasy; try to take part. Laughter is a splendid medicine. We shall give you a costume; they tell me that you were very good as a pastry cook at Pauline"s! If you are better, be certain it is because you have gotten out of your rut and have distracted yourself a little. Paris is good for you, you are too much alone yonder in your lovely house.
Come and work, at our house; how perfectly easy to send on a box of books!
Send word when you are coming so that I can have a carriage at the station at Chateauroux.
CCLIII. TO GEORGE SAND Thursday, 20 March, 1873
Dear master,
The gigantic Tourgueneff is at this moment leaving here and we have just sworn a solemn oath. You will have us at dinner the 12th of April, Easter Eve.
It has not been a small job to get to that point, it is so difficult to succeed in anything, no matter what.
For my part nothing would prevent me from going tomorrow But our friend seems to me to enjoy very little liberty and I myself have engagements the first week in April.
I am going this evening to two costume b.a.l.l.s! Tell me after that that I am not young.
A thousand affectionate greetings from your old troubadour who embraces you.
Read as an example of modern fetidness, in the last number of the Vie Parisienne, the article on Marion Delorme. It ought to be framed, if, however, anything fetid can be framed. But nowadays people don"t look so closely.
CCLIV. TO GUSTAVE FLAUBERT Nohant, 23 March, 1873
No, that giant does not do as he likes, I have noticed that. But he is one of the cla.s.s that finds its happiness in being ruled and I can understand it, on the whole. Provided one is in good hands,--and he is.
Well, we are hoping still, but we are not absolutely counting on anyone but you. You can not give me a greater pleasure than by telling me that you are going out among people, that you are getting out of a rut and distracting yourself, absolutely necessary, in these muddled days.
On the day when a little intoxication is no longer necessary for self-preservation, the world will be getting on very well. We haven"t come to that yet.
That FETID thing is not worth the trouble of reading, I didn"t finish it, one turns away from such things, one does not spoil one"s sense of smell by breathing them. But I do not think that the man to whom one offers that in a censer would be satisfied with it.
Do come with the swallows and bring Saint-Antoine. It is Maurice who is going to be interested in that! He is more of a scholar than I am, I who will appreciate, thanks to my ignorance about many things, only the poetic and great side of it. I am sure of it, I know already that it is there.
Keep on going about, you must, and above all continue to love us as we love you.
Your old troubadour,
G. Sand
CCLV. TO GUSTAVE FLAUBERT Nohant, 7th April, 1873
I am writing to my friend General Ferri Pisani, whom you know, who HAS CHARGE at Chateauroux, to reserve you a carriage which will be waiting for you on the 12th, at the station, at twenty minutes past three. You must leave Paris at ten minutes past nine o"clock by the EXPRESS. Otherwise the trip is too long and stupid. I hope that the general will come with you, if there is any decision contrary to your promise send him a telegram to Chateauroux so that he shall not wait for you. He usually comes on horseback.
We are looking forward IMPATIENTLY to seeing you.
Your old troubadour
G. Sand
CCLVI. TO GEORGE SAND 23 April, 1873
It is only five days since we parted, and I am missing you like the devil. I miss Aurore and all the household down to Fadette. Yes, that is the way it is, one is so happy at your house! you are so good and so interesting.
Why can"t we live together, why is life always so badly arranged?
Maurice seems to me to be the type of human happiness. What does he lack? Certainly, he is no more envied by anyone than by me.
Your two friends, Tourgueneff and Cruchard philosophized about that from Nohant to Chateauroux, very comfortably borne along in your carriage at a smart pace by two horses. Hurrah for the postillions of La Chatre! But the rest of the trip was horrid because of the company we had in our car. I was consoled for it by strong drink, as the Muscovite had a flask full of excellent brandy with him. We both felt a little heavy hearted. We did not talk, we did not sleep.
We found here the barodetien folly in full flower again. On the heels of this affair has developed during the last three days, Stoppfel! another bitter narcotic! Oh! Heavens! Heavens! what a bore to live in such times! How wise you are live so far from Paris!
I have begun my readings again, and, in a week I shall begin my excursions hereabouts to discover a countryside that may serve for my two good men. After which, about the 12th or the 15th, I shall return to my house at the water-side. I want very much, this summer, to go to Saint Gervais, to bleach my nose and to strengthen my nerves. For ten years I have been finding a pretext for doing without it. But it is high time to beautify myself, not that I have any pretensions at pleasing and seducing by my physical graces, but I hate myself too much when I look in my mirror. The older one grows, the more care one should take of oneself.
I shall see Madame Viardot this evening, I shall go early and we will talk of you.
When shall we meet again, now? How far Nohant is from Croisset!
Yours, dear good master, all my affection.