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diff --git a/44034-0.txt b/44034-0.txt index 4dde2ef..49d3e91 100644 --- a/44034-0.txt +++ b/44034-0.txt @@ -1,28 +1,4 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Juliette Drouet's Love-Letters to Victor -Hugo, by Louis Guimbaud and Juliette Drouet - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Juliette Drouet's Love-Letters to Victor Hugo - Edited with a Biography of Juliette Drouet - -Author: Louis Guimbaud - Juliette Drouet - -Translator: Lady Theodora Davidson - -Release Date: October 25, 2013 [EBook #44034] - -Language: English - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIETTE DROUET'S LETTERS *** - - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44034 *** Produced by StevenGibbs, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net @@ -10350,364 +10326,4 @@ the silent Bièvre=> the silent Bièvres {pg 33} End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Juliette Drouet's Love-Letters to Victor Hugo, by Louis Guimbaud and Juliette Drouet -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIETTE DROUET'S LETTERS *** - -***** This file should be named 44034-8.txt or 44034-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/0/3/44034/ - -Produced by StevenGibbs, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Juliette Drouet's Love-Letters to Victor Hugo - Edited with a Biography of Juliette Drouet - -Author: Louis Guimbaud - Juliette Drouet - -Translator: Lady Theodora Davidson - -Release Date: October 25, 2013 [EBook #44034] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIETTE DROUET'S LETTERS *** - - - - -Produced by StevenGibbs, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - JULIETTE DROUET'S LOVE-LETTERS - TO VICTOR HUGO - -THE NEW FRANCE, BEING A HISTORY FROM THE ACCESSION OF LOUIS PHILIPPE IN -1830 TO THE REVOLUTION OF 1848, with Appendices - -By ALEXANDRE DUMAS. Translated into English, with an introduction -and notes by R. S. GARNETT. - -_In two volumes, Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, profusely illustrated with a -rare portrait of Dumas and other pictures after famous artists. -24/-net._ - -The map of Europe is about to be altered. Before long we shall be -engaged in the marking out. This we can hardly follow with success -unless we possess an intelligent knowledge of the history of our Allies. -It is a curious fact that the present generation is always ignorant of -the history of that which preceded it. Everyone or nearly everyone has -read a history--Carlyle's or some other--of the French Revolution of -1789 to 1800; very few seem versed in what followed and culminated in -the revolution of 1848, which was the continuation of the first. - -Both revolutions resulted from an idea--the idea of _the people_. In -1789 the people destroyed servitude, ignorance, privilege, monarchical -despotism; in 1848 they thrust aside representation by the few and a -Monarchy which served its own interests to the prejudice of the country. -It is impossible to understand the French Republic of to-day unless the -struggle in 1848 be studied: for every profound revolution is an -evolution. - -A man of genius, the author of the most essentially French book, both in -its subject and treatment, that exists (its name is _The Three -Musketeers_) took part in this second revolution, and having taken part -in it, he wrote its history. Only instead of calling his book what it -was--a history of France for eighteen years--that is to say from the -accession of Louis Philippe in 1830 to his abdication in 1848--he called -it _The Last King of the French_. An unfortunate title, truly, for while -the book was yet a new one the "last King" was succeeded by a man who, -having been elected President, made himself Emperor. It will easily be -understood that a book with such a title by a republican was not likely -to be approved by the severe censorship of the Second Empire. And, in -fact, no new edition of the book has appeared for sixty years, although -its republican author was Alexandre Dumas. - -During the present war the Germans have twice marched over his grave at -Villers Cotterets, near Soissons, where he sleeps with his brave father -General Alexandre Dumas. The first march was en route for Paris; the -second was before the pursuit of our own and the French armies, and -while these events were taking place the first translation of his long -neglected book was being printed in London. _Habent sua fata tibelli._ - -Written when the fame of its brilliant author was at its height, this -book will be found eminently characteristic of him. Although a history -composed with scrupulous fidelity to facts, it is as amusing as a -romance. Wittily written, and abounding in life and colour, the long -narrative takes the reader into the battlefield, the Court and the Htel -de Ville with equal success. Dumas, who in his early days occupied a -desk in the prince's bureaux, but who resigned it when the Duc d'Orleans -became King of the French, relates much which it is curious to read at -the present time. To his text, as originally published, are added as -Appendices some papers from his pen relating to the history of the time, -which are unknown in England. - -[Illustration: _Victor Hugo and Juliette Drouet_] - - - - - JULIETTE DROUET'S LOVE-LETTERS - TO VICTOR HUGO - - EDITED WITH A BIOGRAPHY OF JULIETTE DROUET - - BY - LOUIS GUIMBAUD - - TRANSLATED BY - LADY THEODORA DAVIDSON - - WITH A PHOTOGRAVURE FRONTISPIECE - AND 36 ILLUSTRATIONS IN HALF-TONE - - LONDON - STANLEY PAUL & CO - 31 ESSEX STREET, STRAND, W.C. - - _First published in 1915_ - - - - -FOREWORD - - -A poet, a great poet, loves a princess of the theatre. He is jealous. He -forces her to abandon the stage and the green-room, to relinquish the -hollow flattery of society and the town; he cloisters her with one -servant, two or three of his portraits, and as many books, in an -apartment a few yards square. When she complains of having nothing to do -but wait for him, he replies: "Write to me. Write me everything that -comes into your head, everything that causes your heart to beat." - -Such is the origin of the letters of Juliette Drouet to Victor Hugo. -They are not ordinary missives confided to the post and intended to -assure a lover of the tender feelings of his mistress: they are notes, -mere "scribbles," as Juliette herself calls them, thrown upon paper hour -by hour, cast into a corner without being read over, and secured by the -lover at each of his visits, as so many trophies of passion. - -When Juliette Drouet's executor, M. Louis Kock, died in Paris on May -26th, 1912, he had in his possession about twenty thousand. He had added -to them the letters of James Pradier to our heroine, those of Juliette -to her daughter, Claire Pradier, and the answers of Claire Pradier to -her mother. - -This collection of documents passed into the hands of a Parisian -publisher, Monsieur A. Blaizot, who has been so good as to allow us to -examine them and compile from them a volume concerning Victor Hugo and -his friend. - -At first sight the task presented grave difficulties--nay, it seemed -almost impossible of execution. To begin with, it would have been futile -to think of publishing the whole of the twenty thousand letters; in the -second place, it might appear a work of supererogation to reconstruct -from them in detail the story of a _liaison_ well known to have been -uneventful, almost monotonous, and more suggestive of a litany or the -beads of a rosary than of tragedy or a novel. - -We have attempted to surmount these objections in the following manner: - -In the first portion we present the biography of Juliette Drouet in the -form of a series of synthetic tableaux, each tableau summarising several -lustres of her life. We thus avoid the long-drawn-out narrative, year by -year, of an existence devoid of incident or adventure. - -In the second, we publish those letters which strike us as peculiarly -eloquent, witty, or lyrical. In the light shed upon them by the -preliminary biography, they form, as one might say, its justification -and natural sequel. - -At the outset of her _liaison_ with the poet Juliette does not date her -"scribbles"; she merely notes the time of day and the day of the week, -until about 1840; we have therefore been obliged to content ourselves -with the classification effected by her in the collection of her -manuscripts, and preserved by her executor. - -From 1840 she dated every sheet. Consequently our work simultaneously -achieves more precision and certainty. - -When its difficulties have seemed insuperable, we have derived valuable -encouragement from the sympathy of the literary students and friends who -had urged us to undertake it, or were assisting us in its execution. We -have pleasure in recording our thanks to the following: MM. Louis -Barthou, Beuve, A. Blaizot, Franois Camailhac, Eugne Plans, Escolier, -etc. b We have often wondered what the charming woman whose ideals, -tastes, and habits have, by degrees, become almost as familiar to us as -her handwriting, would have thought of our efforts. As far as she -herself is concerned there can be but little doubt. She would have made -fun of the undertaking. By dint of moving in the society of men of high -literary attainments she had acquired a very modest estimate of her own -wit and talent. In 1877, when the architect Roblin one day discovered -her sorting out her "scribbles," he thought she was attempting to write -a book and gravely asked her "when it was to be published." "What an -idea!" she cried, and burst out laughing. - -Such was not the opinion of Victor Hugo, however. That perfect artist -attached the utmost importance to the writings of his friend. Each time -she wished to destroy them he commanded her to preserve them. Whenever -she proposed to bring them to a close, he insisted upon her continuing. -We possess an unpublished letter from the poet in which he exclaims: - -"Your letters, my Juliette, constitute my treasure, my casket of jewels, -my riches! In them our joint lives are recorded day by day, thought by -thought. All that you dreamed lies there, all that you suffered. They -are charming mirrors, each one of which reflects a fresh aspect of your -lovely soul." - -Surely such a phrase conveys approbation and sanction sufficient for -both Juliette Drouet and her humble biographer. - - - - -CONTENTS - - -PART I - -_BIOGRAPHICAL_ - -CHAPTER I - PAGE - -JULIENNE GAUVAIN 1 - -CHAPTER II - -PRINCESSE NGRONI 14 - -CHAPTER III - -"LA TRISTESSE D'OLYMPIO" 33 - -CHAPTER IV - -THE SHACKLES OF LOVE 45 - -CHAPTER V - -CLAIRE PRADIER 69 - -CHAPTER VI - -"ON AN ISLAND" 84 - -CHAPTER VII - -"THAT WHICH BRINGS SATISFACTION TO THE HEART" 104 - - -PART II - -_LETTERS_ 115 - - -APPENDIX - -I. LIST OF THOSE OF VICTOR HUGO'S POEMS -WHICH WERE INSPIRED BY JULIETTE -DROUET 311 - -II. BOOKS CONCERNING JULIETTE DROUET 314 - -III. WORKS OF ART REPRESENTING JULIETTE -DROUET 314 - -INDEX 317 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - -VICTOR HUGO AND JULIETTE DROUET _Photogravure Frontispiece_ - - FACING PAGE - -THE CHTEAU OF FOUGRES IN 1831 1 - -CLAIRE PRADIER AS A CHILD 8 - -VICTOR HUGO AS A YOUNG MAN 16 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN THE RLE OF LA PRINCESSE NGRONI 24 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN THE RLE OF LA PRINCESSE NGRONI 32 - -HOUSE IN THE VILLAGE OF LES METZ, IN THE PARISH OF -JOUY-EN-JOSAS, SEINE-ET-OISE 32 - -CHURCH OF BIVRES, SEINE-ET-OISE 40 - -VICTOR HUGO ABOUT 1836 48 - -"LE CITOYEN VICTOR HUGO JOUANT AU CONGRS DE LA PAIX" 64 - -CLAIRE PRADIER AT FIFTEEN 72 - -CLAIRE PRADIER ON HER DEATHBED 80 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN JERSEY 88 - -VICTOR HUGO IN JERSEY 96 - -VICTOR HUGO, HIS FAMILY, AND JULIETTE DROUET AT HAUTEVILLE HOUSE 104 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN 1883 112 - -CLAIRE PRADIER 120 - -JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1830 128 - -A PAGE OF JULIETTE DROUET'S NOTE-BOOK IN 1834 136 - -AUTOGRAPH LETTER FROM JULIETTE DROUET TO HER DAUGHTER CLAIRE 144 - -VICTOR HUGO 160 - -CARICATURE OF MLLE. GEORGE, BY VICTOR HUGO 176 - -PORTRAIT OF VICTOR HUGO BY HIMSELF 176 - -AUTOGRAPH AND DRAWING BY JULIETTE DROUET 192 - -THE BRIDGE OF MARNE 208 - -A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET 224 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN 1846 232 - -VICTOR HUGO, RPUBLICAIN 240 - -DRAWING BY VICTOR HUGO, SIGNED "TOTO" 256 - -THE FLOWER AND THE BUTTERFLY 256 - -JULIETTE DROUET'S HAND 272 - -VICTOR HUGO, BY RODIN 288 - -JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1877 296 - -THE DEATHBED OF VICTOR HUGO 304 - -A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET 304 - -BOOK-PLATE DESIGNED FOR JULIETTE DROUET BY VICTOR HUGO 312 - -[Illustration: THE CHTEAU OF FOUGRES IN 1836. - -Unpublished drawing by Victor Hugo.] - - - - -JULIETTE DROUET'S LOVE-LETTERS TO VICTOR HUGO - - - - -PART I - -_BIOGRAPHICAL_ - - - - -CHAPTER I - -JULIENNE GAUVAIN - - -An irregular outline, sombre colouring, a tangle of towers, steeples, -high gables and ramparts, steep passages built in the form of steps: -such was the town of Fougres at the beginning of the nineteenth -century. The principal features of its surroundings were a turbulent -river waging unceasing conflict with numerous mills, uncultivated -wastes, more footpaths than lanes, and more lanes than high-roads. - -This former hot-bed of _chouans_ was an appropriate birthplace for a -heroine of romance--and there, on April 10th, 1806, was born Julienne -Josphine Gauvain, subsequently known as Mademoiselle Juliette, and -later still, as Madame Drouet.[1] - -Her father was a humble tailor living in a suburb of the town, on the -road between Fougres and Autrain; her mother kept the little home. -Madame Drouet was somewhat proud of her humble origin; she wrote: "I am -of the people," as others might boast "I am well born"; she wished -thereby to explain and excuse her taste for independence, her fiery -temper, and her impulsive nature. She might equally have attributed -these to the neglect she suffered in early infancy. - -For she had no parents to guard or train her. Her mother died on -December 15th, 1806, before the infant could lisp her first words. On -September 12th in the following year the father dragged himself to the -public infirmary at Fougres, and there breathed his last. The infirmary -took over the charge of the orphan, and was about to place her with the -foundlings--indeed, the necessary formalities had already been complied -with--when a protector suddenly came forward, a certain worthy uncle. - -His name was Ren Henri Drouet. He was thirty-two years old, a -sub-lieutenant of artillery, had seen active service in eight campaigns -under Napoleon, and been wounded in the foot by the blow of an axe. The -wound was such that some very quiet employment had to be provided for -him. The ex-artilleryman was turned into a coast-guard, and dawdled out -a bored existence in the little Breton port where fate confined him -henceforth. He claimed Julienne, and she was handed over to his care. - -It would be foolish to pretend that this retired warrior was a suitable -person to undertake the training of a little girl. He understood only -how to spoil and caress her. Never did child enjoy a wilder, more -vagabond childhood. Julienne never got to the village school, because on -the way thither glimmered a large pond bordered by clumps of bushes. -Among the latter she would conceal her shoes and stockings, and, wading -into the water, blue as the skies above, gather starry water-lilies. -When she came out, more often than not she failed to find the -hiding-place, and ran home bare-footed, with hair floating in the wind -and a frock torn to ribbons. But she only laughed, and was forgiven -because she made such a winsome picture in her tatters and her wreath of -flowers. Those were halcyon days--days filled with innocent joys and -elemental sorrows: a fruit-tree robbed of its burden under the indulgent -eye of the old coastguard in his green uniform, the death of a tame -linnet. All her life Julienne's memory would dwell pleasurably on those -early delights. Nothing could curb her natural wildness, not even the -gate of a cloister or the rule of St. Benedict. - -Among Ren Henri Drouet's female relations he counted a sister and a -cousin, nuns in a great Parisian convent, the Bernardines-Bndictines -of Perpetual Adoration. Their house was situated in the Rue du -Petit-Picpus. When Julienne was ten years old he easily managed to have -her admitted to the school attached to the convent, and thenceforth the -orphan's path in life seemed settled: she should first become a -distinguished pupil, then a pious novice, and lastly a holy nun. But, as -events turned out, Julienne was only to carry out the first part of the -programme. - -From the description left us by Madame Drouet and transcribed in full -by, Victor Hugo in _Les Misrables_, the house in the Petit-Picpus -was none too cheerful; its first welcome to the child was more -sombre than any drama she was to figure in, later, as an actress. -Padlocked gates, dark corridors, bare rooms, a chapel where the -priest himself was concealed behind a veil--such was the scene; black -phantoms with shrouded features played the parts; the action was -composed of interminable prayers and stringent mortifications. The -Bernardines-Bndictines slept on straw and wore hair shirts, which -produced chronic irritation and jerky spasms; they knew not the taste -of meat or the warmth of a fire; they took turns in making reparation, -and no excuse for shirking was permitted. Reparation consisted in -prayers for all the sins and faults of omission and commission, all -the crimes of the world. For twelve consecutive hours the petitioner -had to kneel upon the stone steps in front of the Blessed Sacrament, -with clasped hands and a rope round her neck; when the fatigue -became unbearable, she prostrated herself on her face, with her arms -outstretched in the form of a cross, and prayed more ardently than -before for the sinners of the universe. Victor Hugo, who gathered -these details from the lips of Madame Drouet, declared them sublime, -while she who had personally witnessed their painful passion, retained -a profound impression for life, coupled with a strong sense of -Catholicism, and the gift of prayer. - -Outside of these austerities the pupils of the school conformed to -nearly all the practices of the convent. Like the nuns, they only saw -their parents in the parlour, and were not allowed to embrace them. In -the refectory they ate in silence under the eye of the nun on duty, who -from time to time, if so much as a fly flew without permission, would -snap a wooden book noisily. This sound, and the reading of the _Lives of -the Saints_, were the sole seasoning of the meal. If a rebellious pupil -dared to dislike the food and leave it on her plate, she was condemned -to kneel and make the sign of the cross on the stone floor with her -tongue. - -Neither the licked cross nor the meagre fare ever succeeded in damping -Julienne's spirits. She preserved the beautiful spontaneity and love of -fun of her early years. She was the spoilt child of the convent where -her aunts, Mother des Anges and Mother Ste Mechtilde, appear to have -wielded a kindly authority. She soon became its _enfant terrible_. Once, -when she was about twelve years old, she threw herself into the arms of -a nun and cried, devouring the outer walls with her eyes: "Mother, -mother, one of the big girls has just told me I have only got nine years -and ten months more to stay here: what luck!" And another time she -dropped on the pavement of the cloister a confession written on a sheet -of paper so that she might not forget its items: "Father, I accuse -myself of being an adulteress. Father, I accuse myself of having stared -at gentlemen." - -One might well ask who were the gentlemen concerned, for in the convent -of Petit-Picpus there were no male professors; only the most -distinguished among the nuns assumed the duty of instructing the young -boarders. Judging from the eloquence which will be found later in Madame -Drouet's letters, the Bernardines-Bndictines must have accomplished -their task with great thoroughness. Julienne learned from them, if not -orthography and cultivated style, at least sincerity, and the point -that, before attempting to write, one should have something to say. She -also studied accomplishments. Mother Ste Mechtilde possessed a beautiful -voice. She was consequently appointed mistress of ceremonies and of the -choir, and used to train her niece and other pupils. Her habit was to -take seven children and make them sing standing in a row according to -their ages, so that they looked like a set of girlish organ-pipes. -History does not relate whether Julienne sang better than the others, -but a little later she began to nurse in secret the idea of utilising -her gifts as a virtuoso. At Petit-Picpus she also learned to sketch and -paint in water-colours. She owed this instruction to the favour of the -pious nuns, who, as a special breach of their rule, authorised her to -take lessons from a young master, Redout. - -It may not be too bold to declare that Julienne imbibed at the convent -those qualities of tact and restraint, and that air of distinction she -exhibited later in the drawing-rooms of Victor Hugo. To the Convent of -the Bernardines was attached a sort of house of retreat where aged -ladies of rank could end their days, as also nuns of the various orders -whose cloisters had been destroyed during the Revolution. Some of these -preserved within their hearts a generous instinct of maternity, which -Julienne easily managed to waken. She fell into the habit of running -across to break the rule of everlasting silence in that fairly cheerful -environment, and, in defiance of the prohibition against intimacy, she -turned the old ladies into personal friends. She listened attentively, -and remembered much, and forty years later she could describe correctly -the names, appearance, and habits of that picturesque group, somewhat -archaic, but invariably courteous and witty. - -Perhaps because of this slight lifting of the veil, Julienne began -already, at the age of sixteen, to fix her eager gaze beyond the -cloister and the gate. Perhaps also some instinct of dignity and -self-respect urged her to learn something of the world before entering -the novitiate to pronounce her vows. However this may be, it seems -certain that, on the solemn occasion of her presentation to the -Archbishop of Paris, Monsignor Quelen, as a postulant, she managed to -convey that her vocation was of the frailest, and her desire for the -world, deeply rooted. The prelate understood, and signified to the nuns -that this particular lamb desired to wander. That very evening Julienne -left the convent. - -Here follows a somewhat obscure interlude in the girl's life. We meet -her next among the pupils of the sculptor Pradier, in 1825. - -James Pradier: to those of our generation this name recalls merely a -number of groups and statues: statues more graceful than chaste, groups -more elegant than virile; the work of a master who aimed at rivalling -Praxiteles, but only succeeded in treading in the footsteps of Clodion. - -Pradier, however, only needs a careful biographer to acquire another -kind of celebrity: that of an artist, _grand viveur_, magnificent and -vain, careless and weak, born too late to lead without scandal the -frivolous life he loved, too early to acquire by industry the fortune -needed for the indulgence of his tastes. - -Twice a week his studio was transformed into a drawing-room, and his -receptions were attended by a most varied company: painters and poets, -models, actresses, dames of high degree, politicians and men of the -sword--all society, in short, liked to be seen in the Rue de l'Abbaye. - -Clad in high boots, cut low in front, in violet velvet trousers and a -coat of the same material decorated with Polish brandebergs, flanked by -a Scotch greyhound almost as big as himself, the master of the house -received his visitors, listened to them, talked with them, without -interrupting his work; he created fresh marvels with the chisel while -the conversation flowed unrestrained, and thus his labours became -simultaneously a gossip and a spectacle. - -In the novel excitement of surroundings so brilliant, so varied, and of -morals so easy, Julienne committed the imprudence which was to settle -the fate of her whole life. Thanks to her independent spirit, and still -more to her beauty, she very soon established her position in Pradier's -house. She came there often, remained long, and consented to pose for -him.[2] - -And when, one day, the sculptor desired for himself this flower, so -superior in delicacy and aroma to those usually found in the studios, he -had but to bend down and pluck it. - -[Illustration: CLAIRE PRADIER AS A CHILD. - -From an unpublished drawing by Pradier.] - -He made Julienne his mistress in 1825. In 1826 she gave him a little -daughter whom we shall meet again later. But now arose difficulties of a -practical nature. James Pradier, ex-Prix de Rome, Chevalier de la Lgion -d'Honneur, Membre de l'Institut, Professeur de l'cole des -Beaux-Arts, could not with propriety, according to his ideas, marry a -model. He does not dream of it for an instant, but, as he wishes to do -the girl some kindness, however unsuitable, he manages to insinuate her -into the theatrical world, and to put her on the boards. Having friends -in Brussels, he decrees that she shall go thither to study and make her -first appearance; and, as she needs guidance, advice, and protection, he -writes her almost every day long letters, in which platitudes alternate -with vulgarity. The correspondence continues, wordy and trivial, -interminable and foolish, a repulsive mixture of boasting and preaching. -Does Julienne show distaste for vaudeville, Pradier proclaims that form -of acting to be the most charming in the world, and places it far above -tragedy, which he pronounces tiresome and chilling. If Julienne -complains that she has but one dress, Pradier tells her that only the -leading lights of the stage possess more. If she ventures a timid -request for money, he answers that he has none himself, and offers her a -book of fairy-tales illustrated under his supervision. - -She had to keep herself alive somehow, and when the poor thing had -pledged everything she possessed at the pawnbroker's, she wrote -plaintively: "This is the only money my talents have earned for me so -far." She might perhaps have been reduced to some desperate measure, had -not chance placed her in the path of Flix Harel. - -Although an incorrigible Bonapartist, and consequently a conspirator by -trade, Harel seems to have been above all a man of the theatre: in the -midst of his political preoccupations, one can always discern his -predilection for things pertaining to the stage. He also had a very -definite conviction that politics and the drama, statesmen and -ballet-dancers, have always been closely linked together. So, whether he -was for the moment pamphleteer, financier, or prefect, whether he was -holding an appointment, or in full flight, he always had a finger in -some theatrical pie, either as a director, a manager, or a private -adviser. At the time he first met Julienne, he was filling the latter -capacity at the Thtre Royal, in Brussels. He presented the young -woman. Without further training than that which Pradier had directed -from afar, we know that she made her first appearance in Brussels, at -the beginning of the year 1829--to be exact, on February 17th. - -On that day she informs Pradier that her dbut has been successful, and -that the Brussels press is favourable. He at once thanks Providence and -decides that she can henceforth support herself by her talent. He -writes: "Is not this a great pleasure to you? Does it not lift a weight -from your heart, you who have such a noble soul? How sweet is the bread -one has earned so honourably! For my part, I feel that all your faults -are condoned by the trouble you are taking. Your perseverance will be -rewarded, never doubt it. Go on working! Time can never hang heavy when -one is labouring honestly; study carries more flowers than thorns." - -Having spoken thus, the artist returned to his business and his -pleasures, not without having exhorted Julienne to remain in Brussels as -long as possible. He was not ignorant of the passionate desire of the -young woman to see her babe once more, but he feared that, if she should -not find an engagement in Paris like the one she enjoyed in Brussels, -she would again be, morally at least, on his hands. Therefore, -redoubling his cautious advice and his counsels of prudence, he implored -her not to relinquish a certainty for an uncertainty. - -However, nothing deterred her. Julienne, as she used to say afterwards, -would rather have trudged the distance that separated her from her -child, on foot, than waited any longer. The events of 1829 spared her -the trouble. Owing to certain evidences of internal discontent, the -government of Charles X was developing liberal proclivities. Among other -political exiles, it allowed Flix Harel to return, and with him his -illustrious mistress, Mlle. Georges. Julienne shared their lot. She -accompanied them, not only to Paris, but to the Theatre of the Porte St. -Martin, which, under Harel's influence, rapidly became the stronghold of -romanticism, and on February 27th, 1830, she made her dbut on its -boards in the part of Emma, in _L'Homme du Monde_, by Ancelot and -Saintine. Then she migrated almost at once to the Odon, of which Harel -had just undertaken the management, without, however, resigning that of -the Porte St. Martin. She played various parts there throughout the year -1831. - -We shall hear later on that she was beautiful, but for the present we -must confine ourselves to the question of her talent and dramatic -qualities. It has been hinted that she owed her success solely to her -lovely face and graceful figure, and that she was one of those ephemeral -favourites who reap popular applause in return for the exhibition of -their charms. The truth seems to be that "la belle Juliette," as she was -already called, gave proofs of distinguished powers, although one is -fain to admit that, at this distance of time, it is not easy to define -her capacity with any exactitude. For one thing, it was never Juliette's -good fortune to play an important part which has since become a classic, -and by which her true qualities could be gauged: in Harel's troupe the -first-class parts were already justly monopolised by Mlle. Georges and -Madame Dorval. Also, nearly all the plays in which Juliette appeared are -nowadays looked upon as antiquated and sometimes even absurd. In fact, -it is difficult to conceive how they ever could have been given. It will -be wiser, therefore, to rely mainly on Pradier's letters to discover -what were the natural gifts which could have inspired that artist to -make of his mistress an actress, and even a tragedian. - -Pradier, then, considered Juliette well equipped by nature in respect of -sentiment, intelligence, and voice production; but he criticised in her -a certain timidity and lack of assurance, sufficient to mar her -entrances and cover her exits with ridicule. He also thought fit to -observe to her that, once she was on the scene, and had overcome her -initial fright, she overacted her parts, and was not sufficiently -natural; she forgot to address herself to the audience, and would speak -into the wings, and neglect to vary her gestures, intonations, and -pauses. - -To sum up, fire, intelligence, and an adequate vocal organ, but shyness, -awkwardness, monotonous delivery, and hesitation in gesture and gait: -such seem to have been the dramatic qualities and shortcomings of "la -belle Juliette." The testimony of Pradier has been confirmed by that of -_L'Artiste_. If there is any need to say more, we can judge by an -analysis of her engagements with Harel. - -On February 7th, 1832, Harel signs a contract with her for thirteen -months, to begin from the March 1st following. He brings her back from -the Odon to the Porte St. Martin, and promises her the modest salary of -four thousand francs per annum, payable monthly. But he does not treat -her as a "general utility" actress--on the contrary, he insists that she -keep principally to the part of _jeune premire_ in comedy, tragedy, and -drama; that she learn daily at least forty lines or verses of the parts -which shall be allotted to her; that she furnish at her own expense all -the dresses necessary for her parts; that she be present at all -rehearsals called by the administration of the theatre. On January 13th, -1833, the two agree that the engagement shall be prolonged on the same -conditions until April 1st, 1834. Between whiles, Juliette continued to -create parts. - -It must be confessed that she led the customary life of a theatrical -star. From the Boulevard St. Denis, where she lived, to the Boulevard du -Temple, which was then the hub of the social world and the centre of -amusement, the distance was negligible. She was therefore present at -every scene of this ceaseless round of entertainment. Her wardrobe -enjoyed a certain renown. Her journeys, one of which was to Italy -towards the end of 1832, helped to keep her before the public. Beautiful -as a goddess, merrier than ever, her bearing unconcerned, her arm -lightly placed within that of the chance companion of the moment, her -eyes flashing fire, though her heart might be full to bursting, she -sailed towards Cythera without apparent regret, without thought of -return. It was at this moment that Victor Hugo succeeded in bringing her -back into port, and keeping her there for ever, the slave of one master, -the woman of one love. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -PRINCESSE NGRONI - - -Two portraits of Victor Hugo are extant: one by Devria executed in -1829, the other by Lon Nol in 1832.[3] What a change is visible in the -short space of three years! The "monumental" brow which reminded -Thophile Gautier of the "fronton de temple Grec" is the same; but, -whereas in 1829 it was instinct with lofty thought and pleasant fancies, -in 1832 worry and suspicion have already scored it deeply with lines of -care. In 1829 Devria recognised and rendered the characteristic -expression of the poet: that bright, upward glance which ten years -before had caused the author of the _Odes_ to be compared to a -stained-glass archangel. In 1832 Lon Nol saw a fixed, overshadowed -gaze, whose severity is further accentuated by knitted brows. In 1829 -fleshy, sinuous lips always half ready for a smile or a kiss, indicate -both sensuality and humour. In 1832 they are tightly compressed, their -outline exaggeratedly firm; they give the impression of having forgotten -joy and learnt to express only will. Even in the quality of the -flesh-tints the artists disagree. According to Devria the pallor -natural to the poet bears the impress of health and placidity, whereas -Lon Nol's rendering reveals sickliness and a sense of doom. - -What, then, had happened between the dates of the two portraits? Had the -whole character of the poet changed? Had he lost some precious article -of faith or conviction, or was it that the mainspring of his enthusiasm -had failed him? Nay--his soul still cherished the same treasures of -idealism. The former penitent of the Abb Lammenais still preserved at -thirty his ardent, perhaps even narrow Catholicism, his cult of purity, -his contempt for physical indulgence, his delight in the joys and duties -of family life. Eager for self-sacrifice, rich in the hopes and -illusions he confided to his few intimate friends, he dreamed of sharing -everything with the people, towards whom the trend of events inclined -him to turn; just as he had once written _Les Lettres la fiance_ for -a single reader, so he had now published for the crowd _Les Feuilles -d'Automne_, the curious preface to that collection, and in the -collection itself the sublime _Prire pour tous_. His was a soul -profoundly religious, and a lofty mind which aspired to raise itself -ever higher. - -But he did not live by thought alone. Many of those who watched him -working without intermission, with a method and a will that defied human -weakness, who saw how numerous were his lectures, how varied his -researches, and who witnessed the incessant travail of his imagination, -thought that the author of _Hernani_ and _Dona Sol_ must be lacking in -human sensibility. He protests against this. In a letter to Sainte-Beuve -he says: "I live only by my emotions; to love, or to crave for love and -friendship, is the fundamental aim--happy or unhappy, public or -private--of my life."[4] He might equally have added: "That is why for -the last two years my brow is no longer placid, why my eyes seek the -ground, why my lips are so bitterly compressed." - -The secret of the change in Victor Hugo's physiognomy lies in the -treachery of his wife and his best friend. Love and friendship failed -him together. His moral distress was immense, his pain unfathomable. -They inspired him with plaints so touching that, after hearing them, one -asks oneself whether it can ever be possible for him to forget or -recover. One despairs of the healing of the man who writes: "I have -acquired the conviction that it is possible for the one who possesses -all my love to cease to care for me. I am no longer happy."[5] - -Calmness did return to him, however. It was thus: For the last ten -years, that is, practically ever since her marriage, Madame Victor Hugo -had behaved in such a manner that when the day of the betrayal, in which -she was the accomplice of his friend, dawned, the poet was able to -consider her with contempt. Although fairly gifted in appearance, she -possessed neither taste nor cleverness in the matter of dress; she had -always shown herself to him in careless attire and unfashionable gowns. -Absent-minded and limited in intelligence, she remained uncultured and -oblivious of the genius of her husband, and of achievements of which she -appreciated only the financial value. In addition, she had declined to -share the noble ideal originally proposed to her by her -twenty-year-old bridegroom: love considered as "the ardent and pure -union of two souls, a union begun on earth to end not even in -heaven."[6] The poet was thus authorised, and even forced, to seek -happiness in the arms of some other woman. If Victor Hugo had wished to -avoid that "other woman " he would have had to remain for ever concealed -in his tower of ivory--which certainly did not happen. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO AS A YOUNG MAN. - -In the possession of M. le D. F. Jousseaume.] - -He emerged from it in the spring of 1832, on May 26th, and appeared at -an artists' ball. There he saw Juliette for the first time; but she was -so beautiful and so captivating that he was afraid of her, and dared not -address her. Five years later he recorded this impression of admiring -timidity in the book in which they had agreed to celebrate all their -anniversaries, namely the _Voix Intrieures_.[7] - -For more than six months the poet lacked the courage to seek his vision -again, but in the early days of 1833 he found Juliette among the -actresses Harel suggested to him at the Porte St. Martin for his play, -_Lucrce Borgia_. He accepted her at once and gave her a small part, -that of Princesse Ngroni. Then the rehearsals began. Juliette admits in -one of her letters that she showed herself very coquettish and -mischievous. - -According to her, the poet made up his mind the first day and the first -hour. But matters did not really proceed so easily. Victor Hugo, who, as -stated above, cherished the highest and purest moral ideal, must have -carried his principles with him into the wings and on the stage. He was -not partial to actresses; he was suspicious of them, and made no secret -of the feeling. One must picture him rather as on the defensive than -bold and adventurous. - -His attire and appearance were not calculated to ensure his social -success. We hear from Juliette herself that he wore his hair _en -broussaille_, and that his smile revealed "crocodile's teeth." Allowing -himself to be dressed by his tailor in the fashions of four or five -years earlier, his trousers were firmly braced above the waist, tightly -drawn over his boots, and fastened under the instep by a steel chain. To -sum up, as a dandy who writes these details concludes, he was a worthy -citizen desirous of being in the fashion, but unable to compass it. - -Fortunately the said citizen could speak, and his words of gold were -sufficient to gloss over any personal disadvantages. To men he -discoursed of his hopes and plans, and even his forecasts for the -future; to women of their beauty and the supremacy of such a gift. Men -found his arrogance intolerable, and complained that they must always -either listen, or talk to him of himself. But women liked him for -abasing his pride before them; they appreciated his good manners, his -urbanity, and the incomparable art with which he cast his laurels at -their feet. The god took on humanity for them; they were careful to pose -as goddesses before him. Juliette possessed everything needful to -accomplish this end. - -She was about to enter her twenty-sixth year; very shortly afterwards, -Thophile Gautier wrote this fulsome description of her, to please the -master: - -"Mademoiselle Juliette's countenance is of a regular and delicate -beauty; the nose chiselled and of handsome outline, the eyes limpid and -diamond-bright, the mouth moistly crimson, and tiny even in her gayest -fits of laughter. These features, charming in themselves, are set in an -oval of the suavest and most harmonious form. A clear, serene forehead -like the marble of a Greek temple crowns this delicious face; abundant -black hair, with wonderful reflections in it, brings out the diaphanous -and lustrous purity of her complexion. Her neck, shoulders, and arms, -are of classic perfection; she would be a worthy inspiration to -sculptors, and is well equipped to enter into competition with those -beautiful young Athenians who lowered their veils before the gaze of -Praxiteles conceiving his Venus.[8] - -These elegant phrases probably represent very imperfectly the impression -produced by Juliette. We have had the privilege of perusing some of the -proposals addressed to her, and we have read the cruel novel Alphonse -Karr prided himself on having written about her.[9] Everything conspires -to show that she shone and dazzled especially by her all-conquering air -of youth and ingenuousness. When she passed, spring was over. Her age, -condition, manner of life, had made of her a woman, while her smile and -movements kept her still a girl. Her gait was, in fact, so fairy-like -that her admirers all make use, certainly without collusion, of the -adjective, "arien." Her face presented a perfect image of calmness and -purity. Did she raise her eyes, a soft, velvety, sometimes mournful gaze -was revealed--did she lower them, it was still the dawn, but a dawn -concealing itself behind a veil. - -All beautiful countenances have a soul; upon Juliette's could be read -less contentment than unsatisfied ardour, more melancholy than -serenity. Neither luxury, nor pleasure, nor flattery, was able to -satisfy the dearest desire of her heart from the age of sixteen, which -was, to become the passionate companion of an honest man. She lent -herself to her lovers, but her eyes made it plain that she still sought -the perfect one to whom she would some day capitulate. According to -herself--and we have no reason to doubt her--she selected Victor Hugo as -soon as she made his acquaintance. She expended herself in advances and -coquetries, and infused into the study and expression of her small part -all the art of which she was capable. In the third act of the play, when -Maffio said to her: "_L'amiti ne remplit pas tout le c[oe]ur_," she had -to query: "_Mon Dieu, qu'est-ce qui remplit tout le c[oe]ur?_" It seems -that at rehearsals she did not wait for Maffio's answer, but turned -subtly towards the poet and sought him with her eyes. He, however, still -hung back; a tradition attributed to Frdrick Lematre, which we have -carefully verified,[10] informs us that he surprised even the actors of -the Porte St. Martin by the respectful tone he maintained towards his -beautiful interpreter. Far from addressing her in the familiar manner -customary in theatrical circles, he called her Mademoiselle Juliette, -kissed her hand, and bowed low before her. Frdrick could not believe -his eyes. - -At last the evening of the first performance arrived; the success of the -piece was immediate. Juliette had her share of it. She was so beautiful -as the poisoner that, as Thophile Gautier says, the public forgot to -pity her unhappy guests and thought them fortunate to die after kissing -her hand.[11] After the third act she received congratulations even from -Mademoiselle Georges, who folded her in her arms and covered her with -kisses. As for the author, we do not know what he did in the first -blush, but the next morning he wrote thus: - -"In _Lucrce Borgia_, certain personages of secondary importance are -represented at the Porte St. Martin by actors of the first order, who -perform with grace, loyalty, and perfect taste, in the semi-obscurity of -their parts. The author here thanks them. Among these, the public -particularly distinguished Mademoiselle Juliette. It can hardly be said -that Princesse Ngroni is a part: it is in some sense an apparition; a -figure, beautiful, young, fatal, which floats by, raising one corner of -the sombre veil that covers Italy at the commencement of the sixteenth -century. Mademoiselle Juliette threw into this figure an extraordinary -virility. She had few words to say, but she filled them with meaning. -This actress only requires opportunity, to reveal forcibly to the public -a talent full of soulfulness, passion, and truth."[12] - -Nothing could be better said or more openly declared, and the -interpreter of the part was thus informed of the intentions of the -author. He adopts her, makes her his own, is ready to share his own -glory with the youthful renown of Ngroni. For her he will conceive -marvellous parts; she will create them. - -Juliette understood him perfectly. With the ardour of a -twenty-five-year-old imagination excited by love, she began to dream of -her poet, of their two lives henceforward united in a common success. -While Victor still wavered, still hesitated whether to seek this actress -of whom thousands of alarming anecdotes were current, she made foolish -projects, settled trivial details, savoured one by one those joys of the -dawn of love which so many women prefer to the delights of possession. - -He came at last on February 27th, Shrove Sunday, towards the end of the -afternoon. The weather had been beautiful, one of those soft spring days -that enhance the beauty of Parisian women and make the men pensive. The -streets were littered with booths, noisy with fireworks, discordant with -raucous voices. The Boulevard du Temple exploited a fair where, on that -particular day, masks and songs added variety and movement. - -Victor Hugo, who lived in the Place Royale and never drove in a cab, had -to cross this scene on foot. His thoughts were still confused; he, who -was ordinarily so determined in his plans, still debated whether he -should mount the actress's stairs. After all, this child seemed fond of -him--but whom was she not fond of? Who was there that did not figure on -the list of her lovers? Yesterday, Alphonse Karr, loutish, a babbler, a -writer of romances, fairly honest, but so ponderous in his pretentious -and everlasting coat of black velvet! To-day a Russian Prince who was -said to have offered Juliette a marvellous trousseau, copied from the -wedding outfit of Madame la Duchesse d'Orlans. He was also credited -with the intention of installing her in a sumptuous apartment in the Rue -de l'chiquier.... What should a poet, a great poet conscious of his -mission, want with such a girl? - -Then a voice sang in the memory of Victor Hugo, a voice almost -supernatural, like those with which he used to endow the good fairies in -the days when he covered the margins of his lesson-books with fancies. -"_Mon Dieu_," it wailed, "_qu'est-ce qui remplit tout le c[oe]ur?_" And -at last the poet walked up to place the answer at the feet of his new -friend. - -Like all great hearts, Victor and Juliette fell head over ears in love, -and thought of nothing else. The poet was no longer to be found in the -Place Royale, or, if he was, he remained abstracted, a stranger at his -own hearth. He, usually so precise, so punctual and methodical, now -neglects his guests and is late for meals. When evening comes and his -drawing-room is filled with voices, song, and discussion, and with women -who smile upon him and men who render him homage, he forgets everything, -even to be polite. His eye is on the clock, he longs for the blessed -hour of the _rendezvous_ at 9, Rue St. Denis. Sometimes he snatches up a -stray sheet of paper and scribbles feverishly. Verse or prose? More -often it is verse, for it will be offered to Juliette, and nothing -flatters her so much as these poetical surprises created in the midst of -the din and diversions of a social circle. - -Neither did she give herself in niggardly fashion. From the very -beginning she said to him: "I am good for nothing but to love you!" She -threw herself thoroughly, magnificently, into the part. - -Thus quoth she--and wrote likewise, for she, also, wrote from -everywhere: from her room, from a friend's house, from her box at the -theatre, from a chance caf. For her tender "scribbles," as she calls -them, any scrap of paper will serve, even an envelope or the margin of a -newspaper; and for instrument a pencil, a blackened pin, even a steel -pen, that novel invention of which every one is talking, but which she -hardly knows how to use. - -Of the form of her letters she takes little heed. No lexicon is needed -to say that one loves. A woman in the throes of passion does not worry -about grammar. Juliette is of that opinion, and that is why her early -letters are so full of charm. They exhale the perfume of love, and also -its timidity. - -Her letters were not merely a means of giving vent to her feelings: they -seemed to her the only occupation fit for a sweetheart worthy of the -name, when the lover is absent or delayed. On February 18th, 1833, -Victor Hugo had left her early in the morning. She had rushed to the -window to follow him with her eyes as long as he was in sight. At the -corner of the Rue St. Denis, as he was about to turn into the Rue St. -Martin, he looked back; they exchanged a volley of kisses. Then she -found herself lonely indeed, oblivious of her surroundings, like a -somnambulist who walks and speaks and acts in a dream. Around her was an -immense void, in her heart one sole desire: to see the poet again, and -never to part from him. It was to fill that void and beguile that desire -that she took up the habit of writing to him. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN THE RLE OF LA PRINCESSE NGRONI.] - -He, on his part, repaid letters and messages as much as possible with -his own presence. Any time he could snatch from his children and work -and visits to publishers or theatre-managers, he gave to Juliette. As -_Lucrce Borgia_ continued to reap a signal success--the greatest, from -the financial point of view, that the Porte St. Martin had ever -experienced--Harel asked the author for a new play. Victor Hugo wrote -_Marie Tudor_ in very few days, and the principal parts had just been -allotted: to Mademoiselle Georges the Queen, to Juliette, Jane. Under -pretext of rehearsing, we find our lovers lunching together almost every -day. If there was really a rehearsal, they met again afterwards on the -stage, and tasted the rare pleasure of sharing their work, as they -shared their pleasure. When they did not rehearse, they hurried out of -town. Furtively yet boldly, timidly but merrily, they started on one of -those strolls, partly Parisian, and partly suburban, which, according to -Juliette, were the chief enchantment of their _liaison_. - -Paris was not then the dusty conglomeration of eight-story-high houses -it now is. Instead of spreading over the surrounding country, it allowed -the country to encroach upon itself. At the foot of Montmartre (which -Juliette always calls a _mountain_), real windmills waved their long -arms; along the Butte aux Cailles a genuine brook purled among the -lilacs and syringa; on the summit of Montparnasse, when there was -dancing, artists and poets, dandies and grisettes, trod actual grass, to -the sound of fiddles! Juliette had always in her a strain of -bohemianism. We may therefore picture her in short, striped, pleated -skirt, tight at the waist but flowing out wide at the bottom over white -stockings, a little silken cape covering her queenly young bosom, -without concealing its fine lines, her head surmounted by a rose-trimmed -bonnet with black ribbons, clasping the arm of her "friend" with -sparkling eyes and cheeks as rosy as her headdress. Happiness, as she -used to say in after-days, is so light to carry, that her feet hardly -touched the ground. Her pride in her companion was such that her glance -defied Heaven. "When I hold your arm," she wrote to him, "I am as proud -as if I had made you myself." - -She did _re_make him, to a certain extent, for it was she who insisted -upon his becoming younger and smarter in appearance. He now trained his -chestnut locks over his Olympian brow, in careful but unromantic -fashion; his black eyes, with their blue depths, resumed their upward -glance, when they were not plunged in those of his mistress; his -complexion, which had been so pale, now gained colour, and soon, when -Auguste de Chtillon paints the poet's miniature for Juliette's -pleasure, he will be able to endow him with lips less eloquent than -caressing, without straying from the truth. "The dear little -fashionable," as his companion called him, compressed his sturdy figure -into a really handsome blue coat opening over a shot waistcoat. His -immaculate linen, and the scarlet ribbon of the order Charles X had -bestowed upon him in his youth, stood out in pleasant contrast to the -sombre hue of his coat. His tiny feet, and hands as delicate as -Juliette's own, completed this somewhat incongruous exterior. - -And the two made expeditions together, wherever they knew of, or hoped -to find, moss and trees, and an attractive shelter. They went to -Montmartre and Montrouge, to Maison Blanche and St. James, to Bictre -and Meudon, Fontainebleau, Gisors, St. Germain-en-Laye, and Versailles. -Sometimes the poet pondered his work as he walked. Silence was then the -order of the day; so Juliette was silent. But more often they talked, -made plans for the future, babbled merry nonsense, and exchanged kisses. -Or else they discussed their past: Victor told of his studious childhood -spent poring over books, of his early works, laborious and chaste. -Juliette recalled her bare-footed school-girl pranks. Both gloried in -the radiant memories of their youth. - -But in the midst of those halcyon days of simple pleasures, Fate began -to show herself unkind. First came the failure of _Marie Tudor_, then -Juliette's disappointment at the Comdie Franaise, and, in addition, -the persecution of her creditors and the consequent quarrels with Victor -Hugo, with their subsequent scenes of tender reconciliation. - -The poor girl was, in fact, overwhelmed with debt. When Victor Hugo, -desirous of setting her free for ever, asked her to draw up a detailed -statement of her affairs, she nearly broke down under the task, for -there were not only ordinary bills, such as 12,000 fr. to Janisset the -jeweller, 1,000 fr. to Poivin the glove-maker, 600 fr. to the laundress, -260 fr. to Georges the hair-dresser, 400 fr. to Villain the purveyor of -rouge, 620 fr. to Madame Ladon, dressmaker, 2,500 fr. to Mesdames -Lebreton and Grard for dress materials, 1,700 fr. to Jourdain the -upholsterer--but also fictitious and usurious debts intended to disguise -money loans, and all the more numerous because they were for the most -part invented under the direction of an attorney who answered to the -name of Manire. She took good care not to reveal to Victor Hugo, whose -own burdens, and practical, economical mind, she was well acquainted -with, the amount of her expenditure and the magnitude of her -liabilities. The moment came, however, when the creditors realised that -they had to deal with a pretty woman inefficiently vouched for by a -poet. They lost patience and threatened her, and it was then that -Juliette had recourse to money-lenders. The remedy was worse than the -evil. Stamped paper soon flooded her rooms. Her furniture was seized, -and also her salaries from the Thtre Franais and the Porte St. -Martin. She tried to save a few clothes, and was had up for illegally -making away with the creditors' property. Her landlord threatened her -with expulsion; she imagined herself homeless, and lost her head. - -Instead of confiding in Victor Hugo, her natural protector, she had -recourse to former friends. There were many such, from Pradier, the -sculptor, to Schan, the scene-painter of the Opera and other theatres. -Pradier replied with advice; he was not without just pretext for -refusal, for, since her intrigue with Victor Hugo, Juliette no longer -wrote to the father of her child except "_par accident et monosyllabes_" -or else in a school-girl's handwriting, calculated to cover the pages in -very few words. Schan and a few others were less stingy; they sent -small but quite insufficient contributions. She was therefore forced to -take the big step of revealing the whole truth to the beloved. - -The scene was stormy, although Victor Hugo did not hesitate for a moment -before complying with an obligation that was also a satisfaction, since -it secured his possession of Juliette. Fussy and meticulous though he -was in the small circumstances of life, he knew how to be generous and -even lavish in the great--but Juliette's petty deceptions had infused -doubts in his mind; moreover, he was in love and therefore jealous. -Towards the end of 1833 and in the early part of 1834, suspicion, anger, -unjust recriminations and noisy quarrels became almost daily affairs. As -invariably happens in these cases, friends, male and female, interfered. -Juliette was slandered by Mademoiselle Ida Ferrier, her understudy in -the rle of Jane at the Porte St. Martin--who would, if rumour may be -trusted, have gladly understudied her also in the heart of Victor -Hugo--also by Mademoiselle Georges, who was getting on in years[13] and -could not forgive the lovers for not acknowledging her sovereignty in -the green-room and drawing-room as they admitted it upon the stage. To -aspersions and reproaches Juliette opposed, not only indignation, but -angry words, violent retorts, and sometimes even insulting epithets; or -else she protested in innumerable letters and notes, rendered eloquent -by their sincerity. She complained that she was "attacked without the -means of defence, soiled without opportunity of cleansing herself, -wounded without chance of healing"; she affirmed her intention of -putting an end to the situation by suicide or final rupture. Generally -Victor Hugo arrived in time to calm her frenzy with a caress or a -soothing word, and then Juliette would try to resign herself and let -hope spring uppermost once more. But Victor Hugo, under the influence of -some new tittle-tattle, resumed his grand-inquisitorial manner, and the -tone, words, reproaches and even threats appertaining to the part. The -creditors continued to harry her without intermission; so in the end the -couple passed from words to actions. - -As we have stated above, Juliette's furniture had been seized, and she -was about to be turned out of her apartment in the Rue de l'chiquier. -She had endeavoured vainly to interest her friends, past and present, in -her difficulties. Even Victor Hugo, disheartened probably by the -difficulties of the task, had returned a refusal. The lovers therefore -exchanged farewells which they thought final, and on August 3rd Juliette -started for St. Renan, near Brest, where her sister, Madame Kock, was -living. Happily she travelled by the Rennes diligence, and there were -many halts on the way. From the very first of these she sent an adoring -letter to the poet. She wrote again from Rennes, from Brest once more, -and lastly from St. Renan. Victor Hugo responded with expressions of -poignant regret and remorse, according to those who have read them. He -promised to do his very best to find the few necessary banknotes to -satisfy the biggest creditors. In the end, he set out for Rennes -himself, and rejoined his friend. The lovers returned to Paris on August -10th. - -Now commences the most singular period of the life of Juliette, one -which has been aptly entitled an "amorous redemption after the romantic -manner."[14] For nearly two years Victor Hugo, taking his mistress as -the subject of his experiment, put into practice the theories, in part -religious, and in part philosophical, which he professed concerning -courtesans, namely: the expiation of faults by faithful, passionate, -disinterested love; love itself being considered as a species of -_sesame_, capable of opening wide the doors of science, and throwing -light upon all hidden things. - -The first condition of redemption was poverty, voluntarily, almost -joyously, accepted. The furniture of the Rue de l'chiquier must be sold -and the beautiful rooms given up. A tiny apartment consisting of two -rooms and a kitchen was taken for Juliette at No. 4, Rue du Paradis au -Marais, at a yearly rental of 400 fr. There she shivered through the -winter, and spent part of her days in bed to economise her fuel; but at -least she proved that she loved truly and was deserving of love. - -No more dresses or jewels ... every evening Victor Hugo repeated to his -mistress that dress adds nothing to the charms of a lovely woman, that -it is waste of time to try to add to nature where nature herself is -beautiful; and proudly, as if indeed she were clothed in the hair-shirt -of her former mistresses at the convent, Juliette wrote: "My poverty, my -clumsy shoes, my faded curtains, my metal spoons, the absence of all -ornament and pleasure apart from our love, testify at every hour and -every minute, that I love you with all my heart." - -But there can be no true reformation or conversion without work. So -Juliette must work; she must study her parts, make her clothes and even -some of Victor Hugo's, patch others, keep her little house in order, and -spend what leisure she can snatch, in copying the works of the master, -cutting out extracts from the newspapers, classifying and collecting his -manuscripts and proofs. - -When he had completed this splendid programme, of which almost every -part, as we shall presently see, was carried out to the letter, the poet -experienced an overpowering need to find himself alone somewhere with -the woman he had finally subjugated. His mind was still quite Virgilian. -He had not yet arrived at confusing duty with politics and happiness -with popularity. His greatest enjoyment, next to love, was in rural -pursuits, and for the indulgence of these he flattered himself he had -discovered in Juliette a companion worthy of himself. The lovers had -barely settled in the Rue du Paradis au Marais before they went off to -the valley of Bivres. Half mystics, half pagans, worshipping equally at -the shrines of the forest divinities and those of the village churches, -they entered upon the consummation of what they themselves called their -"marriage of escaped birds." - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN THE RLE OF LA PRINCESSE NGRONI.] - -[Illustration: HOUSE IN THE VILLAGE OF LES METZ, IN THE PARISH OF -JOUY-EN-JOSAS, SEINE-ET-OISE, - -In which Juliette Drouet lived while Victor Hugo was staying at Les -Roches. This is the house referred to in _La Tristesse d'Olympio_.] - - - - -CHAPTER III - -"LA TRISTESSE D'OLYMPIO" - - -In the neighbourhood of Paris, about four miles from Versailles, nestles -a valley which the modern devotees of romance should deem worthy of a -visit. Not because it boasts of any special features, such as mighty -torrents thundering from giddy heights into abysmal precipices below--on -the contrary, its character is harmonious and serene, more like a French -park decked with flowers by nature, and watered by chance--but because -in these classic surroundings, about the year 1830, circumstances led -the great men of the new school to seek temporary repose for their -fretted souls. To us, these peaceful meadows, flanked by pensive willows -weeping on the borders of the silent Bivres, must evermore be peopled -by those troubled shades: by Lammenais, the priestly keeper of -consciences, Montalembert, the angelic doctor, Sainte-Beuve, the -purveyor of ideas, Berlioz, the musician, and, lastly, by the poet, -Victor Hugo, who followed meekly in the rear, while awaiting the glory -of conducting the procession. - -They used to arrive in the summer, some for a couple of days, others for -weeks together, to stay with Monsieur Bertin, editor of the _Journal des -Dbts_ and owner of Les Roches,[15] a property situated midway between -the villages of Bivres and Jouy-en-Josas. Genial and lively, as Ingres -represents him in his celebrated portrait, Monsieur Bertin loved to -divine, promote, and, where needful, encourage their vocations and -plans. His housekeeping was on a modest scale, but his hospitality -delightful--a mixture of go-as-you-please and kindly despotism; perfect -freedom outwardly, but, in reality, careful ministrations skilfully -disguised. Louise Bertin, the eldest daughter of the old man, and one of -the muses of the period, willingly divided her time between the kitchen -and the drawing-room, cookery-books and poems. As an ardent musician, -tolerably familiar with the best literature, her mind was full of -quaintness, while her heart was instinct with kindliness. When, -perchance, she had surfeited her guests with sonatas and song, she would -be seized with fear lest she should be interfering with their habits or -inclinations, and would hastily substitute anarchy, by commanding each -one to choose his own occupation, and pursue his meditation, walk, or -game unhindered. - -Of them all, Victor Hugo seems to have been the girl's favourite, and -the one who made the largest use of this generous welcome and charming -liberty. As soon as the periwinkles blossomed, he settled his wife and -children at Les Roches, while he himself came and went between Paris and -Bivres. Gradually he grew to associate the valley with his joys and -sorrows; it became one of those familiar haunts to which one -instinctively turns, with the comforting assurance of finding there the -outward conditions suitable to one's moods. As a young father, he made -it the fitting frame for family joys; when his love was flung back in -his face and his friendship betrayed, he returned to seek, if not -consolation, at least faith and hope for the future. A year later, again -under the shelter of Les Roches, he thought he had found solace. The -valley meant something more than an invitation to dawdle: it filled him -with sensuous suggestion; he longed to place his ideal of an -unquenchable love at the feet of a woman, and to pronounce the word -"Forever." - -With the connivance of Madame Victor Hugo, who shut her eyes, and that -of Mademoiselle Louise Bertin, who smiled her toleration,[16] this -happiness came to him at length; not indeed in the first year of his -passion for Juliette, but in the early part of the second. He brought -his mistress to Bivres and to Jouy on July 4th, 1834, a little before -the tragic crisis that so nearly separated the lovers, as we have -related in the foregoing chapter. - -Juliette immediately fell in love with the scenes the poet had so often -and so eloquently described to her. Of their joint visit to the cu de -France, the little inn at Jouy-en-Josas,[17] she drew up, in fun, one of -those mock official reports in which she excelled. They decided to -return and lunch, no matter where, or how, provided it was neither too -near nor too far from Les Roches. Then they set out in quest of rooms, -which they eventually found in the hamlet of Metz, on the summit of the -hill above Jouy on the northern side. They returned to Paris after -paying over to the proprietor, Sieur Labussire, the sum of 92 frs. for -a year's rent. Thither they came in September for a sojourn of six -weeks, after the troubled interval described above. - -The little house does not seem to have been altered at all.[18] It was -originally built for the game-keeper of the neighbouring chteau, which -belonged to Cambacrs. It still spreads its white frontage, pierced -with green-shuttered windows, against the background of woods. It -consists only of a ground-floor and an attic; a rambling vine covers its -walls; around it are scattered a barn, some outhouses, and an orchard, -whose steep sides slope downwards to a gate opening on to the Jouy road. - -With the assistance of the landlady, Mre Labussire, as she calls her, -Juliette undertook to perform the lighter tasks of housekeeping in the -mornings, and it was understood that Victor Hugo should visit her every -afternoon unless some grave impediment prevented him. - -But the walk from Les Roches to Les Metz was long: not much under two -miles, by rough roads. The lovers agreed therefore to meet half-way, by -a path settled beforehand, and to abandon the Labussire roof-tree for -some leafy bower. Thus began, as Juliette writes, their "bird-life in -the woods." - -Victor Hugo had a choice of three ways when he went to meet his lady. -One led across the valley of Bivres; another, along the pavement,[19] -as the high road from Bivres to Versailles was called; and lastly there -was the woodland path, which they both preferred. Victor Hugo started by -the Vauboyau road, plunged into the woods skirting the boundary of the -Chteau of Les Roches, then, turning to the left, walked straight on as -far as the four cross-roads at l'Homme Mort, and bore to the right -towards the Cour Roland. There, in the hollow of a hundred-year-old -chestnut-tree, all bent and twisted, his lady-love would be awaiting -him. - -Clad in a dress of white jaconet striped with pink, such as she usually -affected, her head covered with an Italian straw hat, left over from the -days of her former affluence, with swelling bosom, rosy cheeks, and -smiling mouth, she resembled a flower springing from the rude calyx -formed by the aged tree. A wide-awake flower, indeed, for, from the -first sign of the approach of Victor Hugo, she would fly to him, and -afford him one more opportunity of admiring the far-famed aerial gait, -that fairy footstep, so light that it had been compared to the sound of -a lyre. - -Then followed kisses, caresses, a flood of soft words, more kisses, and -a rapid rush into the cool green depths whither the twitter of birds -invited them. When they issued forth again, silent now, Juliette walked -first, making it a point of honour to push aside the branches and thorns -before her poet; and he was content, gazing upon the tiny traces left -upon the moss or sand by the feet that looked almost absurd by reason -of their minuteness. - -At the far end of a clearing a fountain burbled. Juliette made a hollow -of her little hands and collected a delicious draught for their burning -lips. Drops dribbled from between her fingers, and, seeing them, her -lover knew that here was a fairy able to "transmute water into -diamonds."[20] - -We must not imagine, however, that the treasure of their love expended -itself entirely in this sportive fashion. If it be true that passion is -the stronger for an admixture of intellect, it follows that only persons -of distinguished parts are capable of extracting the full measure of -delight from sentimental intercourse. Victor Hugo was far too wise to -neglect the training of the sensibilities of his young mistress. Like -some block of rare marble, she submitted herself to this able sculptor -in the charming simplicity of a nature somewhat uncultivated and rugged, -as she herself owns, and he perceived in the formless material the -growing suggestion of the finished statue he was soon to evolve. The -forest was the studio whither he came every afternoon to cultivate, -through novel sensations and delights, his own poetry and eloquence. The -forest gave him colour for colour, music for music.... - -At other times Victor Hugo encouraged in Juliette an inclination for -prayer and tearful repentance. He retained, and she had always -possessed, strong Catholic sensibilities. The mere satisfaction of -sensuality without the hallowing influence of absorbing love spelt -defilement, from their point of view. Hence followed painful remorse for -a past which the lover liked to hear his mistress bewail, and which she -despaired of ever redeeming. Her _rle_ was the abasement of Magdalen; -his, the somewhat strained attitude of an apostle or saviour. - -Nothing could be more peaceful or uneventful than Juliette's evenings. -She devoured with the appetite of an ogress the frugal supper put before -her by Madame Labussire, repaired the damage done to her clothes by the -afternoon's ramble, or studied some of the parts in which she hoped to -appear sooner or later at the Thtre Franais. At ten o'clock she went -to bed. This was the much-prized moment of her solitude, when she -retired, as she says, into the happy background of her heart to rehearse -in spirit the simple events and delights of the day, to recall the face -of her lover, see him, speak to him, and hang upon his answers; then, as -drowsiness gradually gained the upper hand and clouds dimmed the dear -outline, to surrender to slumber. It was at Les Metz that she coined the -happy phrase: "I fall asleep in the thought of you." Sometimes the wind -moaning in the heights awoke her, and she resumed her sweet musing. The -poet was in the habit of working at night; she would picture him in his -room at Les Roches, bending over his writing-table. Then she "blessed -the gale that made her the companion of the dear little workman's vigil -across the intervening space." - -As soon as dawn broke she was up again. She jumped out of bed, ran to -the window, opened the shutters, and interrogated the heavens--not that -she feared rain, any more than she minded "blisters on her feet or -scratches on her hands"--but she had only two dresses, a woollen and a -linen, and the condition of the weather controlled her choice of the -two. Her toilet was rapid, her breakfast simple. She spent the remaining -time copying the manuscripts confided to her by Victor Hugo. Then, -lightly running, as she says, like a hare across the plain, she started -for the rendezvous. As becomes a loving woman, she was always first at -the trysting-tree. She scrutinised the intertwined initials she herself -had carved upon its bark, or conned again from memory the verses she had -found the day before in its hollow trunk. She "sings them in her heart," -presses them to her bosom, and kisses the letters she has brought in -answer. - -[Illustration: CHURCH OF BIVRES, SEINE-ET-OISE.] - -For the chestnut-tree served them as a letter-box as well as a shelter. -According to an arrangement between them, the first thing they did on -arrival was to deposit within its friendly shade everything they had -written in the course of the preceding day for, or about, one another. -On Juliette's part, especially, the letters became more and more -numerous: two, four, sometimes six per day. She no longer wrote, as at -first, to expatiate upon her passion or assure the poet that she loved -him with real love, or to relieve boredom and make the hours of her -solitude pass more quickly. She wrote because Victor Hugo, who had -formerly been indifferent to her "scribbles," now exacted them as a -daily tribute, and reproached her if they were too brief or not numerous -enough. This jealous lover had discovered the advantages of a pretty -woman's mania for writing. When thus occupied, he reflected, she is -contented. He also found that her letters were full of enthusiasm, -humour, feeling, fun, and poetry, and he therefore desired that they -should be preserved; one day, when Juliette had thrown a packet of -them into the fire in a fit of temper, he made her write them all over -again. Juliette might protest prettily, entrench herself behind her -ignorance, and allege her want of intelligence; but the more she pleaded -that she knew not how to write, the more her lover insisted upon her -doing so. No one has ever carried to greater lengths that form of -affectation which consists in vilifying oneself in order to gain praise. -Having thus placed herself, as far as her style is concerned, in the -kneeling position she prefers, Juliette remains there. It is at Les Metz -that her letters commenced to be a hymn of praise in honour of her -divinity. Adoration and excessive adulation are their basis; for form -and imagery, Juliette does not hesitate to borrow from the sacred -writings she had studied at the Convent of Petit-Picpus. Sooth to say, -this mixture of religiosity and passion presents an aspect both -disproportionate and pathetic. When love raises itself--or degrades -itself--to this almost mystical adoration, one cannot be surprised if it -ends by believing in its own virtue. Having adopted the forms of -religion, it insensibly acquires its importance and dignity; it ennobles -itself. - -We do not possess Victor Hugo's answers, but partly from the note-books -in which his lady-love punctiliously copied and dated the poems -addressed to her, and partly from the dates inscribed at the bottom of -each page in the collected works of the poet, we know which of his -verses were composed during his sojourn at Les Metz. It is not too much -to say that the author of _Feuilles d'Automne_ was never more happily -inspired. Nowhere did he more closely approach the classical model he -had chosen at that time, the gentle Virgil. - -The lovers returned to Les Metz twice: once in October 1837 for a few -days, and again, for a day, on September 26th, 1845. In 1837 it was -Victor Hugo who directed the expedition and took the lead. He sought one -by one the traces of their _amours_; his eccentric genius admired -nature's grand indifference, which had failed to preserve them intact -for his honour and pleasure, and, deploring this ingratitude concerning -outward things, he composed that masterpiece, _La Tristesse d'Olympio_. -He laid it at the feet of Juliette, who accepted it, read and reread it, -and learnt it by heart, without criticising it. - -In 1845, the pilgrimage was hers; she planned it and begged for it, -writing on August 19th: "I have an inexpressible longing to see Les Metz -again. We absolutely must go there."[21] - -They did. Early in the month of September Juliette arranged the little -journey. Which dress should she wear? The striped organdy one, or the -blue tarlatan shot with white, she had worn a few months previously, at -the reception of St. Marc Girardin at the Acadmie Franaise? She chose -the former because her lover preferred it; the same reason determined -her to wear a straw hat "trimmed with geraniums above and below the -brim." Thus decked, with cheeks rosier than usual, and eyes glowing, -Juliette climbed with her poet into the omnibus from Paris to Sceaux. - -Victor Hugo disliked omnibuses, and especially that one. He remembered -his many drives in it with his friend Sainte-Beuve, at the time the -latter was most assiduous in his visits to Les Roches, and in spite of -himself he seemed to see the ghost of Joseph Delorme in the back seat, -with his ecclesiastical appearance, and his mania for nestling cosily -between two fat people. Silently the poet dwelt upon these memories, -while Juliette volubly recalled others. She wondered whether they would -find the beggar at the foot of the Bivres hill, into whose hands she -had often emptied her purse, in order that alms should bring them luck, -and whether the baker in the Square still made those little tarts her -lover used to be so fond of. At last the omnibus deposited them at -Bivres in front of the Chariot d'Or. The striped organdy dress created -a great sensation among the village children. Juliette rushed off to the -little church; nothing was changed--the same simplicity, the same -silence, the same brooding peace as in the old days. The young woman -fell on her knees, then, together, the lovers returned to the Chariot -d'Or, breakfasted, and started to walk to Les Roches. There again, in -Juliette's opinion, everything was unchanged. To the left, behind tall -grasses, the river flowed unseen and unheard. In deference to the needs -of man and those of the valley, its course had been diverted, and it now -spread itself through meadows and orchards. Its presence could be -divined from the abundance of flowers and reeds born of its moisture. -When they reached Les Roches, Juliette insisted upon abandoning the -valley for the forest. They ascended through Vauboyau to the wood of -l'Homme Mort. She walked straight to a chestnut-tree which she said she -recognised; then she found a mountain-ash upon whose bark she had once -carved their interlaced initials; after that the spring, and the paths. -She wished to revisit what she called "the chapels of their love," to -pay at each one a tribute of devotion.[22] - -At length they reached Les Metz and the house of the Labussire. -Delirious enchantment! Everything was just as she remembered it: the -gate, the bell, the kitchen-garden, the mile-stone upon which she used -to sit to watch for her lover when the _rendezvous_ was at the cottage; -the bed, with its curtains of printed cotton, the rustic wardrobe, the -oak table.... "Heaven," she cried, "has put a seal upon all the -treasures of love we buried here! It has preserved them for us," and she -longed to take possession of them all and carry them away with her.[23] - -How charming Juliette is at this moment, and how superior to _Olympio_! -How preferable is her enthusiasm, with its power of bringing back to -life the dead past, to the melancholy which disparages and kills! One -sole interest animates her. Her instinct is creative, for where the poet -sees death she perceives life. The roses he thought faded and scattered, -she admires in full bloom; she can still breathe their perfume. From the -dust and ashes he has tasted and bewailed, she draws the savour of -honey. In this instance, surely, her love does not merely aspire to sit -on the heights with the poet's genius, as she claimed--it soars far -beyond it. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE SHACKLES OF LOVE - - -Victor Hugo never succeeded in making Juliette adopt his conception of -love. He craved something calm, placid, regular as a time-table in its -manifestations; but she was wont to object: "Such a love would soon -cease to exist. A fire that no longer blazes is quickly smothered in -ashes. Only a love that scorches and dazzles is worthy of the name. Mine -is like that." - -And indeed it would not be easy to name an object that this woman did -not cast into the crucible of her passion between the years 1834 and -1851. Everything was sacrificed--comfort, vanity, renown, talent, -liberty. Then she turned to her poet. She adopted his tastes, his -ambitions, his dreams for the future; she shared his joys and sorrows; -she exaggerated his qualities, and sometimes even his faults. She lived -only in him and for him. - -We are about to witness a completeness of self-abnegation that raises -Juliette Drouet almost to the level of the mystics of old; afterwards we -shall scrutinise one by one the details of the cult she rendered to -Victor Hugo. - - -I - -After selling the bulk of her furniture and quitting the luxurious -apartment she occupied at 35, Rue de l'chiquier, Juliette, it will be -remembered, had settled down in a tiny lodging costing 400 frs. a year, -at 4, Rue de Paradis au Marais. She and Victor Hugo determined to live -there together, poor in purse, but rich in love and poetry.[24] The said -love and poetry must indeed have filled their horizon, for they have -left no account whatsoever of that first nesting-place. - -On March 8th, 1836, Juliette removed again to a somewhat more commodious -apartment: 14, Rue St. Anastase, at 800 frs. a year. It comprised a -drawing-room, dining-room, one bedroom, a kitchen, and an attic in which -her servant slept. This district has fallen into decay, and is now dull -and dreary. In those days it was chiefly occupied by the convent of the -Hospitaliers St. Anastase, whence the street took its name, and a few -houses more or less enclosed by gardens. The convent and gardens endowed -it with a provincial tranquillity and an impenetrable silence which -occasionally weighed upon Juliette's spirits. - -Her mode of life was not calculated to enliven her. A degree of poverty -bordering on squalor simplified its details. Little or no fire: Juliette -sometimes even lacks the logs she is by way of providing for herself. -Then she spends the morning in bed, reading, planning, day-dreaming. She -keeps careful accounts of her receipts and expenditure--accounts which -Victor Hugo afterwards audits most minutely. When she rises, the cold -does not prevent her from writing cheerfully, "If you seek warmth in -this room you will have to seek it at the bottom of my heart." - -All luxuries in the way of food were reserved, as in duty bound, for -the suppers the master honoured with his presence after the theatre. The -rest of the time Juliette ate frugally, breakfasting on eggs and milk, -dining on bread and cheese and an apple. When her daughter visited her -she treated her to an orange cut into slices and sprinkled with a -pennyworth of sugar and a pennyworth of brandy. The same simplicity -reigned on high-days and holidays. - -Juliette also denied herself useless fripperies and reduced to the -strictest limits the expenses of her wardrobe. Everything she was able -to make or mend, she made and mended, and it gratified her to compute -the money she saved thus in dressmakers. The rest she bought very -cheaply or did without. In the month of August 1838, when she was about -to start on a journey with Victor Hugo, she found herself in need of -shoes, a dress, and a country hat. She bought the shoes, manufactured -the dress, and had intended to borrow the hat from Madame Kraft; but -this lady, who held some minor post at the Comdie Franaise, only wore -feathered hats, so Juliette curses the extravagance that places her in -an awkward predicament. A little later, on May 7th, 1839, she wanted to -furbish up her mantle with ribbon velvet at 5_d._ a yard; but she found -that she could not do with less than eight yards and a half. She bemoans -her extravagance, saying, "Why, oh, why have I let myself in for this!" - -In studying Juliette's financial position one wonders that so much -privation should be necessary, for, from the very beginning, Victor Hugo -allowed her 600 or 700 frs. a month. He afterwards increased this sum to -800, and finally to 1,000 frs. in 1838, when he began to get better -terms from publishers and theatre-managers. Surely such a sum should -provide ordinary comforts--there should be no suggestion of squalid -poverty? - -The fact is that, in 1834, Victor Hugo had only paid off the most -pressing of Juliette's debts; but the result of his doing so was to -rouse the energies of the rest of the creditors, and Juliette was -overwhelmed by them. Sometimes she managed to pacify them by quaint -expedients. For instance, to Zo, her former maid, she offered, in place -of wages, a box for _Anglo_; to Monsieur Manire, her legal adviser, -she promised that, if he would extend her credit, "Monsieur Victor Hugo -should read with interest" a certain plan of political organisation of -which the said Manire was the author, but which alas, does not yet -figure in the archives of the French constitution! But more often she -was forced to pay, and she had to save off food or dress. Then it was -that money was skimped from the butcher and grocer to satisfy the former -milliner or livery-stable keeper. In the month of May 1835, out of 700 -frs. received, the creditors obtained 316; in June they got another 347; -in July 278. Another cause for pecuniary embarrassment was the -irregularity of Pradier's contribution to the maintenance of his and -Juliette's child. Very often, but for Victor Hugo's assistance, this -item would have been added to the sum-total of her debts. But Juliette -bore everything with the blitheness of a bird. She, who had hated -accounts and arithmetic, now devoted her attention to them every day, -sometimes more than once a day; she, who loathed poverty, encountered -the most sordid privations with a smile; she, who once throve upon debts -and promises to pay, now exclaimed: "I would do anything rather than -fall into debt. How hideous and degrading such a thing is, and how -splendid and noble of you, my adored one, to love me in spite of my -past!"[25] - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO ABOUT 1836. - -From a picture by Louis Boulanger (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -In these circumstances, it is not surprising that she began to seek in -work, especially theatrical work, an addition to her private resources. -She took her career as an artist very seriously, and it was a great -disappointment to her that her lover failed to desire her as an -interpreter of his parts. He certainly did not. He allowed his jealousy -full play, and wished to keep Juliette for himself alone. His tactics -seem to have been to dangle promises ever before her, but to give her -nothing; to procure dramatic engagements for her, and prevent her from -fulfilling them. - -In February 1834 he introduced Juliette to the Comdie Franaise, but a -year later he declined to give her the smallest part in _Anglo_, which -was produced there. In the course of 1836, 1837, 1838, he allowed Marie -Dorval to monopolise all the important _rles_ in his former plays, and -never once attempted to put Juliette's name at the head, or even in the -middle, of the bill. Yet he gave her fine promises in plenty, encouraged -her to learn long passages from _Marion_ and _Dona Sol_, and vowed he -would some day write a play for her alone. - -Thus kept in the background, Juliette passed through exhausting -alternations of despair and confidence, gratitude and jealousy. For, as -may easily be imagined, she was terribly jealous, and her suspicious -mind exercised itself chiefly concerning actresses, whose lively manners -and easy morals she knew, by professional experience. There was Mlle. -Georges, already growing stout, no doubt, but ever ready to raise her -banner and exercise her accustomed sovereignty. There was Mlle. Mars, -who, though her looks were a thing of the past, still endeavoured to -attract attention. Above all, there was Marie Dorval. - -Ah, how Juliette envied Dorval! How she studied her in order to arm -herself against her fancied rivalry! How often she took her moral -measure! She knew that she was of the people, that she tingled with -vitality from head to foot, that, though her primary impulses were -virtuous, nature was yet strong within her.... She was well acquainted -with "the voice that quivered with tears and made its insinuating appeal -to the heart."[26] - -Could Juliette fail to dread such a woman, one so versed by the practice -of her profession in the wiles that attract men? Could she refrain from -warning her lover against her, day after day, like one draws attention -to a danger, a scourge, or a tempest? Far from it--she threatened to -return to the theatre, to act in her lover's plays, to be present at -every rehearsal, to vie with her rival in beauty and talent and ardour. -She learnt parts, and whole scenes, and filled her solitude with the -pleasing phantoms her lover had once created, and that she dreamed of -restoring to life on the stage. - -Months passed; delicate circumstances obliged her to relinquish her plan -of appearing at the Thtre Franais.[27] She was on the verge of -despair when, one evening in the spring of 1838, her lover brought her a -new play he wished to read to her, according to his invariable custom. -It was _Ruy Blas_. She at once claimed the part of Marie de Neubourg, -and fell in love with the melancholy little queen who was hampered and -hemmed in by the trammels of tiquette, as she herself was imprisoned -within the limits of her icy apartment in the Rue St. Anastase. Victor -Hugo asked for nothing better. He intended _Ruy Blas_ for the Thtre de -la Renaissance, which was under the management of his friend, Antnor -Joly. He requested the worthy fellow to engage Juliette, and the -agreement was signed early in May. - -We can picture the delight with which Juliette set about copying the -play; nevertheless, she was assailed by melancholy fears: "I shall never -play the queen," she wrote; "I am too unlucky. The thing I desire most -on earth is not destined to be realised." And it is a fact that the part -was taken from her almost as soon as it was given. - -After 1839 her longing to go back to the stage calmed down gradually. At -the end of that year it had completely faded. Her love's tranquillity -was greatly increased thereby, while she was driven to immerse herself -still more completely in her amorous solitude and the disadvantages -pertaining thereto. - -For, in the same degree that he deprecated her being seen on the stage, -Victor Hugo detested the thought of her going out alone, and he had -managed to extract a promise from her that she would never make one step -outside the house without him. She was, therefore, practically as much a -prisoner as any chtelaine of the Middle Ages, or heroine of some of the -sombre dramas she had formerly played. She had not even permission to go -and see her daughter at school at St. Mand, and, rather than trust her -by herself, the poet would escort her to the dressmaker and milliner, -or on her visits to the uncle whose name she bore, and who lay dying at -the Invalides, to the money-lender's, and curiosity-shop, and even the -ironmonger's! - -When Victor Hugo thus lent himself to her needs, all went well, and -Juliette, proud and happy, arm in arm with her "dear little man," -chattered away blithely. But a time came when the lover, monopolised by -other cares, perhaps by other intrigues, was no longer so assiduous. -Then the mistress protested and rebelled, with the fierce rage of a -prisoned beast of the forest, bruising itself against the bars of its -cage, in its agony for freedom. - -Victor Hugo met her remonstrances with gentle reasoning and persuasive -exhortations. However far Juliette went in her transports of anger, he -was always able to pacify her. On September 27th, 1836, at the end of a -long period during which the poet had not been able to give his friend -even what she called the "joies du prau"--that is to say, a walk round -the Boulevards--Juliette threatens to break out. For several weeks she -has been attributing the sickness and headaches she constantly suffers -from, to her sedentary life. Losing all patience, she addresses an -ultimatum to him, proposing an assignation in a cab on the Boulevard du -Temple. He does not appear. For three hours she waits inside the -vehicle, then, in the certainty that he has failed her, she writes a -letter in pencil, dated from the cab, No. 556, stating her intention to -fetch her daughter and go off somewhere, anywhere, alone with her. -"Thus," she writes, "I shall free myself for ever from a slavery which -satisfies neither my heart nor my mind, and does not secure the repose -of either of us." - -However, the next day she did not start. She did not go out at all. She -had resumed her chains and her prison garb. Her anger always evaporated -thus, and turned to melancholy and resigned gentleness. In the end she -came to feel that nothing existed for her, save a lover who sometimes -came and sometimes stayed away. If he was present, she was alive; if -absent, her mainspring was broken. - -But Victor Hugo continued to lead an ordinary life, while his mistress -spent her days in the confinement of a cloister. It was probably about -this time that Juliette resolved to set up in that cloister an altar for -the cult of her lover. Finding herself impotent to attract and keep him -by the sole charm of passion, she endeavoured to win him over by -devotion, minute attentions, tender interest in everything he undertook, -and by unbridled adoration of his person and work. - - -II - -According to Juliette, who secured several stolen meetings in the poet's -own house,[28] Victor Hugo suffered from a complete absence of the most -ordinary comfort at home. His lamps smoked, as did his chimney on the -rare occasions when a fire was lighted; he worked in a "horrible little -ice-house," with insufficient light and a half-empty inkstand; his bed -was wretched, the mattress stuffed with what he termed nail-heads; when -he dressed he found his shirts button-less and his coats unbrushed--as -for his shoes, Juliette was ashamed of their condition. We learn from -Thophile Gautier that the author of _Hernani_ was a hearty eater, but -that his meals were served up in confusion: cutlets with beans in oil, -beef and tomato sauce with an omelette, ham with coffee, vinegar, -mustard, and a piece of cheese. He made short work of this extraordinary -mixture, and no doubt was often reminded of a line his mistress had once -written to him on the subject: "When I think of what you are and what -you do, and of the discomfort in which you live, I am filled with -admiring pity." - -With the instinct of a loving woman and the resource of a clever one, -Juliette was quick to take advantage of the human side of her god, and -to supply him with the personal care he needed. She trained herself to -be a _cordon bleu_ and a sick nurse, a tailor and a cobbler. If Victor -Hugo went to the theatre he found on his return to the Rue St. Anastase, -a dainty repast of chicken, salad, and the milky puddings he liked, and -all the year round a dessert of grapes, a fruit he had always been fond -of. Juliette served him "kneeling"--so at least she affirms. She took -umbrage if he did not allow her to select for him the biggest asparagus -and the thickest cream. He was happy, so was she. If he had an attack of -that "cursed internal inflammation which sometimes affected his head and -sometimes his eyes," his mistress would prepare liniments, tisanes, herb -soups, which the romanticist meekly swallowed. She assumed a maternal -manner, kissed him, coaxed him with soft words, tried to feed him with -her own hands, and regretted that she could not give him her own health -and take his indisposition upon herself. If he complained of the paucity -and untidiness of his wardrobe, Juliette mended his socks and linen, -ironed his white waistcoats, removed grease-stains from his coat, made -him a smoking-jacket out of an old theatre-cloak, and manufactured "a -capital greatcoat lined with velvet, with collar and cuffs of the best -silk velvet, out of another." Thus she managed by degrees to collect -nearly all the poet's clothes in her own room; his ordinary suits, as -well as those he wore on great occasions, such as a reception at the -Acadmie, or a sitting of the House. On one occasion she writes, in -gentle self-mockery: "I was sorry, after you went, that I had not made -you put on your cashmere waistcoat to-night; it was mended and quite -ready for you. This morning I have been tidying all your things. Your -coat occupies the place of honour in my wardrobe; your waistcoat and tie -hang above my mantle, your little shoes and silk socks below. In default -of yourself I cling to your duds, look after them, and clean them with -delight." - -But Juliette's great achievement, her triumph, was to create in her tiny -apartment the right atmosphere for her poet to work in. His custom was -to collect his thoughts during the day, and work them out at night. -Juliette made him a cosy corner in her bedroom, close to her bed. She -fitted it up with a table, an arm-chair, a lamp, and an ink-pot. Above -the chair she hung portraits of his children, to make him feel at home. -On the table, sheets of paper and freshly cut pens attested the presence -and care of a devotee of genius. Whenever he came in the evening the -poet settled down in what he himself called his work-room. His -methodical habits and strong will enabled him to abstract himself from -his environment and devote himself strictly to his labours as an author. -Besides, he was under the impression that Juliette was fast asleep; but -in that he did her less than justice. Sleep while he worked! Juliette -could never have brought herself to do so. She watched him, and admired -him. Sometimes she seized a pencil to scribble on any scrap of paper the -expression of her veneration, and when the poet had finished he would -find little notes such as the following: "I love to watch even your -shadow on the page while you write."[29] - -That a poet should allow his person to be thus worshipped is nothing -new; that he should desire to be admired in his works is still more -natural. Juliette guessed this, and acquired the habit of applauding the -slightest achievement of the master with loving enthusiasm. Part of the -day she spent in copying his manuscripts, classifying them, making them -as like as possible to printers' proofs; and it may easily be imagined -that she occupied much time reading them over and over again. Everything -he wrote was equally sublime in her eyes. If she permitted herself to -show preference for this or that work, it was only on condition that she -should not be supposed to be depreciating some other. In 1846, Victor -Hugo having arranged to make a speech in the House on the "consolidation -and defence of the frontier," Juliette read it no less than three times: -once in _La Presse_, again in _Le Messager_, and a third time in _La -Presse_ again. She made extracts from it and put it away among his -archives; she then wrote gravely to the author, that he had never been -more pathetic or more eloquent. In the same manner she hoarded all his -most trivial sketches and poorest caricatures, and pasted them into -albums which she carefully hid. She was envious of Lopoldine, the -poet's daughter, who was doing the same thing, and naturally had more -opportunities than herself of adding to the collection. - -She was more greedy still of his theatrical output, for there her -jealousy came into play. It is safe to affirm that for more than fifteen -years, namely from 1834 to 1851, she interested herself in every single -representation of the dramas of Victor Hugo. She was present at the -Thtre Franais on the first night of _Anglo_ on April 28th, 1835, and -wished to go again on all the following nights, in spite of the bitter -disappointment the play had caused her, through the frustration of her -ambition to take part in it. She was there on February 20th, 1838, for -the revival of _Hernani_; and on March 8th following, it was she who -applauded Marie Dorval loudest, at the revival of _Marion Delorme_. -While _Les Burgraves_ was being written she demanded to know all about -it from its earliest conception, and achieved her wish. When Victor Hugo -read the play to her, she was very much moved and said: "I hardly know -how to descend to earth again from the sublime altitude of your -conception." She took part in the distribution of the _rles_, and -intrigued against Mlle. Maxime and Madame FitzJames, whom she did not -want for Guanhumara.[30] She championed Madame Melingue, who, in -consequence, obtained the part. At last the first night arrived. There -was a cabal, a violent, aggressive cabal, a sign of the reaction of the -new practical school against the romantic school. Who sat in a -prominent box and opposed the firmest front to the hissing crowd? -Juliette! Who ventured to accuse Beauvallet of murdering the part of the -Duke Job? Juliette again! "To applaud thus your beautiful verses," she -wrote on March 13th, "and hurl myself into the fray in their defence is -only another way of making love. Ah, I wish I could be a man on the -nights the play is given![31] I promise you the subscribers of the -_Nationale_ and the _Constitutionel_ would see strange things!" - -The afternoons hung heavy in the lonely apartment of the Rue St. -Anastase. Sometimes the poet looked in for a moment to bathe his eyes, -or claim some other domestic attention; but, as a rule, his visits were -made in the evening, after the parties and the theatre. His mistress, -therefore, begged, and obtained, permission to receive a few of her -friends. They were insignificant, but warm-hearted folk: Madame Lanvin, -the wife of one of Pradier's employs, who acted as intermediary, partly -honorary and partly paid, between the sculptor and the mother of Claire -Pradier; Madame Kraft, an employe of the Comdie Franaise who affected -literary culture; Madame Pierceau, a worthy matron, and, lastly, Madame -Bezancenot, a tried ally. - -As a rule, Victor Hugo tolerated the presence of this little company; -but, democratic though he might be in principle, it palled upon him -before long, and he made some remonstrance. Then Juliette revealed to -him that her need to talk about him had driven her to institute a -regular course of "Hugolatry" among the good ladies. They made a -practice of reading his poems, declaiming his plays, and showering -praise on the independence of his character and the dignity of his life. -In the face of such delicate proofs of the affection she bore him, it is -not surprising that the poet should have entrusted to Juliette his most -sacred hopes and ambitions. She was one of those in whom a lover may -always confide, in the certainty of being ever sustained, encouraged, -and approved. Thus it came about that she was cognisant of every effort -Victor Hugo made, every step he took, and even of the intrigues by which -he climbed gradually to the Acadmie Franaise, then to the Tuileries -and the little court of Neuilly, and finally to the Chambre des Pairs. - - -III - -Not that Juliette herself ever cherished special veneration for kings, -princes, peers, or Academicians. Democratic and republican by the -accident of birth, as she herself wrote, she likewise detested, on -principle, everything that seemed likely to attract or keep Victor Hugo -away from the Rue St. Anastase. Her first inclination, therefore, was to -criticise with acerbity Academies, drawing-rooms, politics, and Courts; -but the poet's determination was not of the quality that is easily -weakened by remonstrances. Juliette knew this. As soon as she realised -that the _habit vert_ was really the object of her idol's desire, and -that he had set his whole heart upon obtaining it, she abandoned her -opposition and only indulged in gentle mockery calculated to cover the -retreat of the unsuccessful candidate, and deprive it as much as -possible of bitterness. - -For Victor Hugo was, above all, an unfortunate candidate, at any rate -of the Acadmie. In February 1836 he was refused Lain's _fauteuil_, and -it was given to a vaudevilliste of the period, called Dupaty. At the end -of November of the same year, Mignet was preferred before him, for -Raynouard's vacancy. In December 1839, rather than select Hugo, nobody -was appointed in the place of Michaud. In February 1840, precedence over -him was given to the permanent secretary of the Acadmie des Sciences, -Monsieur Flourens. It was not until January 7th, 1841, that he was -elected to Lemercier's _fauteuil_ by seventeen votes, against fifteen -given to a dramatist called Ancelot, whose name an ungrateful posterity -no longer remembers. - -In all the peregrinations required by these five successive -candidatures, Victor Hugo was invariably accompanied by Juliette. On -December 24th, 1835, she writes to him: "One point on which I will -tolerate no nonsense, is your visits. I insist upon accompanying you, so -that I may know how much time you spend with the wives and daughters of -the Academicians. I shall, by the same means, be able to gather up a few -crumbs of your society for myself, which is no small consideration." - -The visits were begun between Christmas and the New Year, in cold, dry, -sunny weather. Clad in black according to prescribed custom, Victor Hugo -fetched his friend every day from the Rue St. Anastase, got into a cab -with her, and showed her the plan for the afternoon: at such and such a -time they must lay siege to Monsieur de Lacretelle; after that, to -Monsieur Royer-Collard; then to Monsieur Campenon. Monsieur de -Lacretelle was too diplomatic not to give plenty of promises and -assurances; Monsieur Royer-Collard too good a Jansenist to fail in a -blunt refusal to the author of _Hernani_. As for Monsieur Campenon, he -had the reputation of being an honest man and an excellent amateur -gardener. His conversation bristled with graftings and buddings. How -should he humour him about his favourite pursuit, Victor Hugo asked his -friend. Should he select roses or pears, myrtle or cypress? As the good -creature was getting on in years, and counted more summers than literary -successes, Victor Hugo unkindly inclined towards the last. - -Juliette laughed merrily, and the poet would climb up numerous stairs, -and return with a stock of entertaining anecdotes, which filled the cab -with fun and colour and life. Then followed calculations of his chances; -if they seemed promising, Juliette congratulated her "immortal," as she -called him in anticipation; if not, she made fun of the Acadmie once -more. - -At the end of the year the whole performance began over again. As in -1835, Juliette pretended not to attach much importance to the election -of her lover, but this did not prevent her from hotly abusing the -Acadmie when, a month later, the society again closed its portals to -the leader of the romantic school. - -It is the privilege of the Acadmie Franaise to be most courted by -those who have oftenest sneered at it. No institution has ever been the -cause of so much recantation. Juliette herself was to eat her words. On -Thursday, January 7th, 1841, when Victor Hugo had at last triumphed over -his brother candidate, it was no longer a mistress who wrote to him, but -a general addressing a panegyric of victory to a hero: "With your -seventeen friendly votes, and in spite of the fifteen groans of your -adversaries, you are an Academician! What happiness! You ought to bring -your beautiful face to me to be kissed." - -Victor Hugo yielded to her gallant desire, as may be imagined, and -forthwith began to prepare for his reception. The poet aimed at a -magniloquent and comprehensive speech which should embrace all the great -names and ideas of the past, present, and future; something as vast as -the empire of Charlemagne, and as noble as the genius of Napoleon. -Juliette, on her side, dreamed of a dress of white tarlatan mounted in -broad pleats and decorated with a rose-coloured scarf, like the one she -had once admired on the shoulders of Madame Volnys, a hated rival at the -Comdie Franaise. - -Although the speech was only to be delivered in June, Victor Hugo had it -ready by April 10th; he read it to his admiring friend the same night. -The white tarlatan dress, alas, was longer on the way. Several reasons -conspired against its completion. First of all, Juliette declared that -she would concede to nobody the honour of presenting the new member with -his lace ruffles: this involved an expenditure of about 23 frs., a heavy -toll on the exchequer of the lovers. Secondly, Victor Hugo's reception -was to fall upon nearly the same date as the first communion of -Juliette's daughter, Claire Pradier, which was yet another cause of -expense. The young woman bravely sacrificed her frock, and, having -consoled herself by making a fair copy of the master's splendid speech, -she awaited the great day. But at the very moment she hoped to see it -dawn without further disappointment, malicious fate brought her, and -consequently Victor Hugo and the Acadmie, face to face with a fresh -dilemma of the gravest importance, namely, the question of the pulpit -for the momentous occasion. - -The time-honoured affair was a wooden erection of mean appearance, -stained to represent mahogany. On ordinary days it was contemned and -relegated to the lumber-room of the Bibliothque de l'Institut; but, on -the occasion of the reception of a new member, custom prescribed that it -should be placed under the cupola, in front of the agitated neophyte. -tiquette demanded that the latter should place upon it his gloves and -the notes of his address; but the rickety thing had already borne so -much eloquence in the past, that it tottered under the weight of its -responsibilities. It stood weakly upon a crooked pedestal, in imminent -danger of subsidence. Instead of being a haughty pulpit, equal to any -occasion, it seemed to offer humble apology for its absurd existence. - -Such was the farcical object Victor Hugo had to interpose between -himself and Juliette, on the day of the great ceremonial. She lost her -sleep over it; for a time, even the lace ruffles, and the speech, and -the white tarlatan dress and rose-coloured scarf, retired into the -background: "I am in a state of inexpressible agitation and worry over -this wretched pulpit," she wrote. "I shall be just at the back of it. I -am in perfect despair! Truly, since this apprehension has taken -possession of me, I have become the most wretched of women. I think if I -cannot see your handsome, radiant face that day, nothing will keep me -from bursting into sobs of rage and misery. The very thought fills my -eyes with tears."[32] - -In spite of himself, Victor Hugo shared one characteristic with Jean -Racine: he could not bear to see a pretty woman cry. He therefore took -decisive measures, and managed to assuage his friend's grief. Juliette -was assured that, whatever happened, she should contemplate her "dear -little orator" at her ease--that is to say, from head to foot. -Unfortunately, it was ordained that calmness should not inhabit this -passionate soul for long together. The night preceding the reception, -Juliette felt frightfully nervous, and, while Victor Hugo sat up -correcting the proofs of his discourse at the Imprimerie Royale, she -retired, saying irritably: "I am like the savages who take to their beds -when their wives give birth to children." At 4.30 a.m. she was already -up, wrote several letters to her lover, dressed, and hurried to the -Palais Nazarin, where she took up a position in the front row, before -even the platoon of infantry detailed for guard had arrived. - -According to the testimony of Victor Hugo's enemies as well as of his -friends, the reception surpassed in dignity and brilliancy anything the -cupola had previously witnessed. The Court was represented by the Duc -and Duchesse d'Orlans, the Duchesse de Nemours, and the Princesse -Clmentine, in a tribune. Fashionable society and the world of letters -jostled each other on the benches. There were women everywhere, even -beside the most ancient and prim of Academicians. Old Monsieur Jay was -partially concealed under billows of laces, gauzes, silks, and satins, -worn by his neighbours, Madame Louise Colet and Mlle. Doze. Monsieur -tienne waggled his head between two monstrous hats so beflowered that, -with one movement, he disturbed the _fleurs du Prou_ of Madame Thiers, -and with the next, he ruffled the bunches of roses on Madame Anais -Segalas' head. - -[Illustration: "LE CITOYEN VICTOR HUGO JOUANT AU CONGRS DE LA PAIX." - -Political caricature, 1849.] - -Juliette saw nothing of all this; neither did she heed the irrelevant -babble of her neighbour on the right, Monsieur Desmousseaux of the -Comdie Franaise, or of her guest on the left, Madame Pierceau. She was -in a state of painful, yet delicious turmoil, and when Victor Hugo made -his entry, she nearly fainted. Fortunately, the poet gave her a smiling -look before beginning his speech, which restored her to life; and she -settled down to listen to his eloquent words, as if she had not already -written them out until she knew them by heart. To-day they seemed -invested with fresh beauties, and she gave herself up to the enjoyment -of the moment. The magnificent imagery which decked Victor Hugo's first -address at the Acadmie, concealed calculation of the most worldly wise -description. Victor Hugo aspired to the Chambre des Pairs as a -stepping-stone to a power which would assist him to develop the moral -and social mission he deemed to be the true function of a poet. To -achieve this aim it was necessary that he should first belong to one of -the societies from among which alone the King could legally select the -members of that Assembly. The Acadmie was one of these, hence the -successive candidatures of the poet, and the special tone of his -discourse, in which all the political parties were blandished and -caressed alike; hence, finally, the visits to Court, which increased in -frequency after 1841. - -Just as Juliette had practically burned in effigy almost all the -Academicians of her time before she had the opportunity of becoming -acquainted with them and finding them charming, so she began by -criticising and censuring Louis Philippe and his children with the -greatest severity. Were not these people going to wrest her poet from -her? And for what? For the sake of empty honours and useless -occupations! Therefore we find Juliette preaching to her lover the -contempt of earthly greatness. She was fiercely jealous of the -citizen-king. - -In order to calm her apprehensions, Victor Hugo had only to reveal to -her his secret plans; from the first moment that he mentioned the Pairie -to her, she became complacent and Orlaniste. Whether the poet went to -harangue the widow of the soldier-prince in the name of the Acadmie, -after the accident of 1842, or whether he paid her a private visit, -Juliette always insisted upon accompanying him to Neuilly, and there she -would wait, sitting in a cab outside, whilst her lover coined honeyed -phrases inside the palace. - -The Duchesse was German, simple, a good mother, and deeply religious. Of -Victor Hugo's works, the only one she was familiar with was No. XXXIII. -of the _Chants du Crpuscule, Dans L'glise de...._ - - "C'tait une humble glise au cintre surbaiss, - L'glise o nous entrmes, - O depuis trois cents ans avaient dj pass, - Et pleur des mes." - -The good lady probably thought these verses had been composed in a -moment of deep fervour, in honour of a respected spouse. She -congratulated the poet, quoted some of the lines to him, questioned him -minutely about his children--and, while he enlarged on these domestic -topics, the real heroine of the beautiful poetry so dear to the -Duchesse, sat waiting below in the cab ... dreaming of the future peer -of France; she already saw him in imagination descending the great -staircase of the Luxembourg, with a demeanour full of dignity. For her -part, she was more than ever content to remain at the foot of the steps, -in a posture of humility, among the crowd of watchers.... When the poet -issued at last from the ducal apartments, she would tell him her dream, -and he would complacently acquiesce. - -The appointment of Victor Hugo to the Pairie appeared in the _Moniteur_ -of April 15th, 1845. It must be left to politicians to determine in what -degree the presence of "Olympio" could profit the councils of the -nation; but to Juliette's biographer the entry of her lover into the -Luxembourg seems a felicitous event. From that moment, in fact, the -young woman ceased to be cloistered. Busier than ever, and perhaps less -jealous, the poet permitted his mistress to accompany him to the -Luxembourg and to return alone to the Marais. At first Juliette hardly -knew how to take this unfamiliar freedom. With her lover absent, she had -grown accustomed to semi-obscurity. The blatant sunshine seemed to mock -her loneliness. She writes: "Nobody can feel sadder than I do, when I -trudge through the streets alone. I have not done such a thing for -twelve years, and I ask myself what it may portend. Is it a mark of your -confidence or of your indifference? Perhaps both. In any case, I am far -from content." - -Gradually, however, she fell into the new ways. She used to walk back -from the Luxembourg by way of the Pont-Neuf and the Quais. She amused -herself by trying to trace the footsteps of Victor Hugo and fit her own -little shoes into them. When she reached home, she immersed herself -deeper than ever in the preoccupations of her lover. - -Occasionally, fortunately, she had a reaction. She read little: the -letters of Madame de Svign, perhaps, or those of Mlle. de Lespinasse. -She tended her flowers; for Victor Hugo had made her remove from No. 14 -to No. 12 Rue St. Anastase, where her ground-floor rooms opened on to a -garden.[33] There, in a space of sixty square feet, she had four bushes -of crimson roses, and a few dozen prolific strawberry-plants, destined -to furnish the poet's favourite dessert, throughout the summer. She -attended to all the most trivial details in person, making them all -subservient to her love. - -In this wise--with the exception of a few bouts of jealousy of which we -shall have occasion to speak later, Juliette's days flowed almost -happily. She no longer brooded over her past; redemption through love -seemed to her an accomplished fact. When she turned to the future, it -was with ideas borrowed from Victor Hugo certainly, but none the less -consoling, since they authorised her to hope for the eternal reunion of -souls beyond the confines of this earth. On December 31st, 1842, the -poet had dedicated some delicate verses to her, which she learned by -heart. They were part of a creed by which Juliette hoped to fortify her -soul against the arrows of fortune--hopes fallacious in the event. First -death, then treachery, were about to rend her faithful heart as a -child's toy is smashed. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -CLAIRE PRADIER - - -About the year 1844, when Victor Hugo visited his friend on Sundays and -holidays, he used to find seated at his private table, in accordance -with his own permission, a tall girl of eighteen, very fair, very pale, -with very black eyes--two prunes, as he said, dropped in a saucer of -milk. Often she did not hear him enter. Bending her willowy neck and -undeveloped bust over her books, she was immersed in study, perhaps also -in rverie. Sometimes he kissed her affectionately, at other times bowed -formally. The lowly assistant-mistress of a suburban school, marvelling -at the great man's condescension, would rise blushing, and submit her -pale brow to his lips. She would then ask permission to return to her -task: the examinations were near at hand, and, as she was going in for a -diploma, she must work. - -Sometimes Victor Hugo smilingly took up the books scattered on the -table, weighed the value of each with a glance, then, pushing them all -aside with the back of his hand, sat down, saying: "Now then, Claire, I -will be your tutor to-day," and the lesson began, vivid, enthusiastic, -brilliant as a poem. - -The reader would be justly disappointed if we failed to relate the story -of the girl to whom this "magician of words" thus unveiled the beauties -of the French language. Besides, a deeper acquaintance with the -daughter may lead to a better understanding of the mother; therefore, we -append a short sketch of Claire Pradier. - - -I - -She was born in Paris in 1826. Her father, the sculptor, undertook the -care of her early childhood, while her mother, as we have learnt, was in -Germany and Belgium. He put her out to nurse at Vert, near Mantes, with -a married couple named Dupuis, and sometimes combined a visit to her -with a little sport, in the shooting season. - -He brought her back to Paris on October 15th, 1828. From letters of his -which have been preserved, we are justified in believing that he derived -some satisfaction from his educational rle. His pen is prolific in -praise of the child with "the locks of pale gold," "the roguish brown -eyes," "the apple-red cheeks," whose "nose ends in a pretty tilt" which -reminds him agreeably of Juliette's. - -He discovers in his daughter a fine nature, plenty of intelligence, and -so much feeling, that he hesitates for a time whether he shall apply his -efforts to checking its development, or to cultivating it--in the first -case, he would turn Claire into a semi-idiot in order not to let her -passions become too strong for her happiness, and in the second, he -might make of her an artist capable of the most splendid impulses and -the noblest fulfilment. - -If Pradier is to be believed, the child herself decided in favour of the -latter. At the age of three, guided by paternal suggestion in the studio -of the Rue de l'Abbaye, she chose for her favourite plaything a stuffed -swan. From her games with this handsomely fashioned bird she imbibed a -taste for pure lines and fine pose. She also listened to music given at -Pradier's house by sculptors and painters who aped the art of Ingres. -She derived so much delight from it that she could never afterwards meet -any of these self-engrossed performers without begging for a kiss. -Finally, by his studies of dress, his clever manipulation of draperies, -which he always preferred to the higher parts of his profession, Pradier -taught her to appreciate light and colour. She had a vivid appreciation -of the latter, and, during her short life, a mere trifle such as the -blue of the sky, or the tint of a rose, gave her the most exquisite -pleasure. - -Having thus cultivated the sensibilities of the flower committed to his -charge, Pradier was rewarded by the prestige attached to his rle of -master and guide; the father reaped in tenderness what the artist had -expended in intelligence and effort. From her earliest infancy Claire -showed a marked preference for this man, so ardent, so gay, who taught -her to breathe and live among works of art; all her life she felt for -him an affection that neither his mistakes nor his carelessness, or even -his injustice, could damp. Meanwhile, ever prolific in good intentions, -always ready with vows and promises, the artist was forming high hopes -and ambitions for his daughter. - -"We must hope," he wrote to Juliette on that October 15th, 1828, when he -took the child away from her nurse, "that she will live to grow up, and -that we shall make a distinguished personage of her." A little later, on -September 28th, 1829, he writes: "Dear friend, you are fortunate in the -possession of a Claire who will be a great solace to you in your old -age." Again, on July 4th, 1832: "Who can love her better than I do, -especially now that I see her rare intelligence developing so -satisfactorily and encouragingly for our designs?" - -He planned for his little daughter the most singular and unexpected -gifts: once it was to be the proceeds of his bust of Chancellor -Pasquier, a commission he owed to Juliette and her friendship with the -subject; another time it was the price of a house he possessed at Ville -d'Avray and wished to sell; again, he designed to settle upon Claire the -sum of 2,000 frs. he had lent to a cousin--fine words, as empty as the -hollow mouldings that decorated the studio of the man. The cousin never -returned the loan, the house at Ville d'Avray was sold, by order of the -court, at a moment when the mortgage upon it far surpassed its value, -and the bust of Chancellor Pasquier, though ordered, was never even -rough-cast by Pradier. - -Juliette had determined to live with Victor Hugo in the conditions of -poverty indicated in a former chapter. Her natural delicacy prompted her -to make the future of her child secure, and at the same time to release -the poet from all anxiety on that score. In the latter part of the year -1833, therefore, she wrote to Pradier asking him to acknowledge Claire. -The answer of the sculptor was as follows: - -"DEAR FRIEND, - - "Your letter did not displease me at all, as you seem to have - feared that it would. Its motive was too praiseworthy to cause me - any sentiment contrary to your own. The only thing that vexes me is - that I should be unable to do at once what you desire, and what I - fully intend to do eventually, though in a manner carefully - calculated not to interfere with the future or tranquillity of any - other person. It grieves me that you do not realise what I feel - towards you and Claire! I believed that all your hopes were centred - in me! I am so crushed with debt that I cannot think of executing - my intentions at present. Good-bye, get well and hope only in me. - You have not lost me, either of you--far from it! Good-bye, your - very devoted friend, and much more, - -"J. PRADIER."[34] - -[Illustration: CLAIRE PRADIER AT FIFTEEN. - -From an unpublished drawing by Pradier.] - -It is easy to guess how annoyed Juliette was at the receipt of such a -letter. She expressed her disgust to Victor Hugo in various notes in -which she abuses her former lover: "Wretched driveller, stupid -scoundrel, the vilest and most idiotic of men, a coward without -faith"--such are the principal epithets she applies to him. - -It has been said that the author of _Lucrce Borgia_ interfered and -obtained from Pradier the acknowledgment of Claire.[35] This is -absolutely incorrect. It is probable indeed that the poet made the -attempt; it seems certain that with the assistance of Manire, the -attorney, he extracted from the sculptor the promise of an allowance; -but there was no official recognition, and soon we shall find the father -of Claire more disposed to repudiate her than to allow her the -protection of his name. - -For the moment he merely agreed that Juliette should put the child to -school at Saumur with a Madame Watteville, whose Paris representative -was a certain Monsieur de Barths. He would have liked Victor Hugo and -his friend to undertake the sole responsibility of the arrangements, but -they prudently declined to do so, though they lavished kindness, -caressing letters, advice, and treats, upon the little exile. - -On May 28th, 1835, Claire, having suffered some childish ailment, -received from her mother a doll and the following letter: - - "Good morning, my dear little Claire. I hope you will be quite well - again by the time you read this letter. Now that you are - convalescent I can discuss serious matters with you. This is what I - wish to say: Foreseeing that you may be in need of recreation, I - send you from Paris a charming little companion who is most amiably - disposed to amuse you. But, as it would not be fair that the - expenses of her maintenance should devolve upon you during the time - of her stay with you, I also send you a big purse of money for her - upkeep. Spend it wisely, in accordance with your needs. - - "Monsieur Toto is no less anxious about her, than devoted to you. - He therefore adds an enormous basket of provisions. I hope the - little girl will not have eaten them all up on the way, and that - there will still be something left for you. - - "This is not all. I have also been thinking of your clothes, dear - little one, and I send you a shawl for your walks, a white frock - with drawers to match, a figured foulard frock, a striped frock - without drawers, and a sleeved pinafore. - - "Good-bye, dear good child. You must tell me if my selection is to - your taste. Love me and enjoy yourself, so that I may find you - tall and plump and pretty, when I come to see you again. - -"J. DROUET." - -At other times, Victor Hugo himself wrote affectionately to his friend's -child. It is necessary to read these letters, so full of thoughtful -tenderness, to gain a better knowledge of the warmth of the poet's -heart. Much should be forgiven him in consideration of it. - -"We love you very much," he wrote to Claire on May 23rd, 1833, "and you -have a sweet mother who, though absent, thinks a great deal about you. -You must get well quickly, and thank the good God in your prayers every -night for giving you such a good little mother, as she on her part -thanks Him for her charming little daughter."[36] - -And a few days after, in a postscript to a letter to Juliette: "Monsieur -Toto sends love and kisses to his little friend, and wishes he could -still have her to travel everywhere with him. But, above all, he would -like to caress her and look after her as his own child."[37] - -_As his own child_--those words were indeed characteristic of Victor -Hugo's feeling concerning the little girl thus thrown across his path by -chance, and unhesitatingly adopted by him. At first, Claire either did -not realise, or was unwilling to return, his affection. She was jealous -of the big gentleman who stole some of her mother's attention from her. -She was reserved and disagreeable. Juliette was indignant, but the poet -did not relax his efforts to win her. With the authority of Pradier, who -was only too pleased to delegate it to him,[38] he placed Claire, on -April 15th, 1836, in a school at St. Mand, 35, Avenue du Bel-Air, kept -by a Madame Marre. From that moment, whether he paid her a surprise -visit in the parlour on Thursday afternoons, with a Juliette beaming -from the enjoyment of the trip, or whether she spent Sundays with her -mother, Claire Pradier insensibly grew to connect Victor Hugo with -Juliette in her affections, to give to them both equal respect, and to -link them together in her prayers. Exceedingly sensitive by nature, more -eager for love than for learning, she fell into habits of day-dreaming -in school, or out in the meadows, and only seemed to recover the -brightness of cheeks and eyes when the lovers fetched her, and toasted -her little cold, contracted fingers in their warm ones. Then the -apartment in the Rue St. Anastase resounded with her merry chatter, and -she joined eagerly in the rites of which Victor Hugo was the god and -Juliette the priestess. - -In 1840, when she had attained her fifteenth year, Claire's mother -thought it right to confide to her the secret of her irregular birth. -She told her also of Pradier's neglect, and Victor Hugo's goodness. She -exhorted her to be simple in her ideas, and not to set her ambitions too -high. Claire manifested much chagrin and vexation at first, but -presently her natural piety awoke and Juliette was able to write: -"Claire is for ever in church." Victor Hugo took upon himself to open -the girl's eyes to the practical side of life, and to point out to her -the necessity of preparing for a profession as early as possible.[39] In -response to these appeals to her reason, Claire soon accepted her lot -with a brave heart. It was settled that at the age of eighteen, that is -to say in 1844, she should be engaged as an assistant mistress in Madame -Marre's school, in exchange for board and lodging, but without salary. -She agreed also to study for a diploma, and she hoped, when once she had -gained it, to find some honourable and paid employment, by Victor Hugo's -help. - -Claire fell to work with an ardour, a good-humour, and an intelligence, -that drew from Juliette the warmest commendation for her daughter and -gratitude for Victor Hugo. - - -II - -One cannot but wonder whether Claire Pradier was really happy at heart, -or whether that eighteen-year-old brow, pure and fair as Juliette's own, -perchance concealed a spirit weighed down by melancholy. She was -good-looking certainly, and knew it. In her chestnut locks, her eyes, -whose hue wavered between soft black and the blue of ocean, her rounded -cheeks, often hectic with fever, the distinction of a tall figure and -stately walk, she united-- - - " la madonne auguste d'Italie - La flamande qui rit travers les houblons."[40] - -But beauty is no consolation to one who feels herself already touched by -the icy finger of death, and who has, besides, no incentive to prolong -the struggle for life. Claire felt thus. - -Already, in earliest childhood, she had shown a delicate temperament, -uncertain health, more nerves than muscle, more sensitiveness than -vitality. During the whole of 1837, her cough never left her. In the -years that followed, her figure scarcely showed any of the curves of -youth. When her looks were praised, she smiled faintly, and her voice, -which was lovely and caressing enough to recall to Victor Hugo the -softest cadences of _Les Feuillantines_, scarce dared pronounce the word -"to-morrow." Hence proceeded low spirits, which she was never able to -shake off, though she usually managed to conceal them from her mother. -Presentiments also beset her. "I often dream of those I love," she wrote -to her mother, "and when I wake up, I long to sleep on for ever." - -Mobile as the chisel he manipulated so skilfully, volatile as the dust -of the plaster which powdered him, Pradier gave Claire neither regular -assistance nor moral support. He had married, and was the father of -several legitimate children. Unfortunate as was the celebrity of his -wife and far-reaching the scandals provoked by her, he yet desired to -preserve before his natural daughter a primly respectable attitude, and -a modesty quite Calvinistic. He was as careful to avoid the occasions of -meeting her, as Claire herself was eager to provoke them. The more she -overwhelmed him with little presents, worked by her own fingers, tender -evidences of an unconquerable affection, the more indifferent and -discourteous he showed himself, forgetting to pay her monthly -allowance, forgetting to give her New Year's presents, forgetting even -to keep his appointments with her, leaving her to wait patiently in the -cold studio of Rue de l'Abbaye while he played the gallant on the -boulevard. - -He had, nevertheless, permitted the girl to make the acquaintance of his -legitimate children, and had gone so far as to put his youngest child, -Charlotte Pradier, at the same school, when he sent his two sons to -Auteuil to a boarding-school. In the month of May, 1845, Claire, with an -impulse natural in a girl of nineteen, wished to give the two -school-boys the pleasure of a sisterly letter; she got Charlotte to -write also. The sculptor heard of it and this is how he treated her -trivial indiscretion: - - "MY DEAR BIG CLAIRE, - - "I have seen the headmaster of ... who has informed me that you and - Charlotte have written to J....[41] Pray write as seldom as - possible. I do not think young girls should use their pens to - reveal their sentiments. Such a habit is too easily acquired; they - should know how, yet not do it. Besides, the children see each - other every fortnight, and that is enough. Please do not sign - yourself _Pradier_ to them any more. Such a thing becomes known and - might cause gossip. You do not need the name, to be loved and - respected. Be frank and fear nothing. Your good time will come some - day. You must be prudent in all respects. The children must - accustom themselves to your position as it is; they will take more - interest in you later. Also, as I am on these subjects, pray use - some other formul in your letters to me than 'adored father,' or - 'beloved.' I am not accustomed to them. Such epithets are only - appropriate to a god. Call me anything else that comes natural to - you. It is unnecessary that I should prompt you; your feelings will - be your best guide. Please write more legibly, for I receive your - letters at night; and, above all, write only when you have - something special to say. You must not become a scribbler about - nothing--I mean for the mere pleasure of using your pen."[42] - -How such a letter must have wounded the heart which once beat so -tenderly for Pradier! Neither the caresses of Juliette nor the soothing -words of Victor Hugo were able to comfort Claire.[43] One month after -her father had thus disowned her, she went up for her examination, and, -partly through grief, partly through timidity, failed utterly. It was -the last stroke. - -Not that her constitution showed any immediate sign of the shock it had -sustained, or broke down at once. Her physical appearance remained -unchanged, but death entered her soul and lurked there henceforward, as -sometimes it lies under the depths of waters which flow calmly to -outward seeming. She made her will. - -From that moment Claire Pradier lived like those resigned invalids who, -raising their gaze to the heaven above them, no longer heed the passing -of the hours, while they await the supreme summons. She waited. Her -mother, seeing her still apparently healthy, failed to realise her -condition, and took the beginning of this mute colloquy with death -for a mere return of her daughter's former depression. Nevertheless, -an incident which happened in the month of February 1846 gave to -Juliette also one of those presentiments which cannot deceive. Like -Claire, she waited. - -[Illustration: CLAIRE PRADIER ON HER DEATHBED. - -Drawing by Pradier (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -It was not for long. On March 21st, 1846, having gone to St. Mand to -see the young assistant mistress, she took with her the design and -material for a piece of work Victor Hugo had asked for. The idea was to -embroider his family coat of arms on coarse canvas, in colours selected -by himself. This complicated heraldic work was to adorn the backs of two -Gothic arm-chairs in his rooms in the Place Royale. - -Contrary to her usual habit, Claire showed very little interest in the -poet's plans; she listened absently and spoke very little. A dry cough -shook her frame from time to time, her cheeks burned with fever. -Juliette walked home by way of the Avenue de Bel-Air, the Barrire du -Trne, and the Faubourg St. Antoine. Victor Hugo, who was always anxious -about her, was to meet her half-way. He did so; she was walking slowly, -with bent head, and when he asked for news of his embroidery, she burst -into tears. The poet understood in an instant. By his instructions, -Claire was removed to Rue St. Anastase the very next day; Triger, her -mother's doctor, was instructed to visit her daily. Not venturing to -pronounce at once the dread name of consumption, he spoke of a chill and -chlorosis. Claire scarcely heeded, and indicated by a feeble gesture -that she was too spent to care. The head she tried to raise from the -pillow, fell back as if too heavy for the frail neck. Her large dark -eyes gazed through space at some melancholy vision. Her hands upon the -white sheets hardly retained strength to clasp themselves in a caress -or a prayer. - -She begged that Pradier might be informed of her illness. He wrote -first, and then came. He demonstrated his affection by theatrical -gestures and well-chosen words. Then he placed a villa, which he said he -possessed at Auteuil, at the disposal of the invalid and her mother. The -so-called villa proved to be one floor in a tenement house, 57, Rue de -La Fontaine. Claire was taken there in the early part of May. Her mother -accompanied her. Victor Hugo visited them nearly every day, but neither -the compliments of "Monsieur Toto" nor the roses he brought his -ex-pupil, nor the exhortations of Doctor Louis, whom he brought with him -one day, were successful in restoring colour to the countenance of one -whose blood-spitting left her every day paler and more exhausted. Claire -hardly dared raise herself in bed; icy sweats drenched her, and she -moaned continuously, in a manner terribly painful to those who were -forced to stand by, helpless. - -On June 6th, she asked to see the Vicar of St. Mand, her confessor. On -the 16th, she received the Last Sacraments. On the 18th, delirium -supervened, and she expired on the 21st. They buried the girl in the -first place at Auteuil, but when her will was read, in which she had -written, "I desire to be buried in the cemetery of Saint-Mand. I also -beg that Monsieur l'Abb Chaussotte should celebrate my funeral Mass, -and that green grass should be grown on my grave," Victor Hugo and -Pradier agreed to have the coffin exhumed. The ceremony took place on -July 11th. Juliette, who was more dead than alive, was not present; but -Victor Hugo and Pradier walked together behind the funeral car, leading -the white procession of Claire's young pupils and companions. The -sculptor, always full of intentions, plans, and chatter, discoursed in a -low voice of the magnificent tomb he would raise with his own hands to -the memory of his daughter. It should be, he said, "a sacred debt; I -shall execute it with so much love that my chisel will never before have -fashioned anything so chaste or so beautiful." - -After the long, slow journey through Paris in the sunshine, they reached -the cemetery of Saint Mand. Near the tomb of the poet's friend, Armand -Carel, a freshly dug grave yawned, gloomy and covetous. There was some -singing, some blessing, the turmoil of a congested crowd; then they -separated, but not without a renewal of Pradier's promise. - -Eight years later he died himself, without having discharged his "sacred -debt." One more resolve had fizzled out in empty words. Victor Hugo was -then living precariously in exile, but as soon as he heard of the -sculptor's end, he wrote off and ordered a decent headstone for Claire, -and directed that the grave should be sown with green grass. Upon the -tomb were carved four of the lines he had erstwhile written for -Juliette's consolation, and he set about composing others. Thus it came -about that, to the very last, Claire Pradier was protected by the father -of Lopoldine against two of the fears that had most alarmed her -youthful imagination, "a neglected grave in some distant cemetery, and a -faded memory in the hearts of men." - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -"ON AN ISLAND" - - -I - -Juliette relates that when she had occasion to admonish her maid, or -find fault with a tradesman during her residence in Jersey and Guernsey, -the answer she invariably received was: "It cannot be helped, Madame; we -are on an island...." - -The phrase tickled her fancy, and she adopted it and made use of it on -many occasions. - -The reader of the following chapters must likewise accept the axiom -that, "on an island," things are not quite the same as on the mainland; -for, only by so doing, will he be enabled to peruse without undue -astonishment the extraordinary narration of the life led in common by -Victor Hugo, his wife, sons, friends, and mistress, between 1851 and -1872. - -Its beginning dates from the poet's sojourn in Belgium without Madame -Victor Hugo, at the beginning of his exile[44]; that is to say, in the -last weeks of the year 1851 and the first half of 1852. Not that his -precarious circumstances and prudent, somewhat middle-class habits, -permitted him to house Juliette under his own roof: indeed, their -_liaison_ was never more secret. But, at Brussels, the problem of the -relations henceforth to exist between the sons of Victor Hugo and she -whom they already called "our friend, Madame Drouet," first came up for -solution. It was at Brussels also, that Juliette set herself to simplify -it, if not settle it, by her devotion, unselfishness, and unremitting -attentions. - -At his first arrival on December 14th the poet had taken rooms at the -Htel de la Porte Verte in the narrow street of the same name. He -remained there barely three weeks, and on January 5th, 1852, took a -small room on the first floor of No. 27, Grand' Place. It was "furnished -with a black horsehair couch, convertible into a bed, a round table, -which served indifferently for work and for relaxation, and an old -mirror, over the chimney which contained the pipe of the stove."[45] - -Juliette never went there, but we learn from the poet's complaints to -her, that the couch was too short for a man, the mattresses hard, and -offensive to the olfactory nerve, and that sleep was difficult to -obtain, on account of the noises in the street. But with the first -streak of dawn outside the lofty window, the "great faade of the Htel -de Ville entered the tiny chamber and took superb possession of it"[46]; -the atmosphere became impregnated with art and history. The poet's fine -imagination and ardour for work did the rest. Hence the tone of his -letters to his wife, who had remained behind in France, was almost -joyous. It was full of masculine courage. Hence, also, that air of -"simple dignity and calm resignation," which characterised his bearing -in exile, "adding to his inherent nobility and charm," and drawing from -Juliette the enthusiastic exclamation: "Would that I were you, that I -might praise you as you deserve!"[47] - -Truth to tell, she merited a rich share of the praise herself. The -little comfort Victor Hugo was able to enjoy, and the moral support he -needed more than ever, came to him solely through her. - -She lodged almost next door, at No. 10, Passage du Prince,[48] with -Madame Luthereau, a friend of her youth, married to a political pamphlet -writer. For the modest sum of 150 frs. a month, of which 25 were paid to -her servant, Juliette obtained food, shelter, and sincere affection. But -what she appreciated more than all these, was the liberty she enjoyed of -superintending from afar the poet's domestic arrangements, and preparing -under the shadow of the galleries the dishes and sweetmeats he partook -of in the publicity of the Grand' Place. Every morning at eight o'clock -her maid, Suzanne, conveyed to Victor Hugo a pot of chocolate made by -Juliette, linen freshly ironed and mended, and sometimes even the -modicum of coal the great man either forgot, or did not trouble, to -order. - -When Suzanne had swept and cleaned the room which Charras, Hetzel, -Lamoricire, mile Deschanel, Dr. Yvan, Schoelcher and sometimes Dumas -_pre_ daily enlivened with their wit and littered with the ashes from -their pipes, she returned at about two o'clock. She found her mistress -busy preparing the master's luncheon--a cutlet generally, which Juliette -took the trouble to select herself, in order to make certain that the -butcher cut it near the loin! Suzanne started off again bearing the -cutlet, the bread, the plates and dishes, and even the cup of coffee! -Obedient to her mistress's injunction, she hurried through the street, -for, at any cost, the luncheon must not be allowed to get cold. - -When Charles Hugo joined his father in February 1852, it might be -supposed that Juliette would relinquish her rle of _cordon bleu_; but -nothing was further from her intention. She merely proceeded to -supplement the daily cutlet with a dish of scrambled eggs, in honour of -the young man. Hugo having opened the necessary credit, she continued -the task she had undertaken, and prepared two luncheons instead of one. -Again, when on May 24th Madame Victor Hugo came for the second time to -visit her husband in Brussels, it was Juliette who undertook to cook a -little feast for her. In the agitation caused by such a high honour, she -forgot to add an extra fork. She worried for the rest of the day over -the omission, and apologised in successive letters to the poet, in the -terms a _dvote_ might employ to confess a mortal sin.[49] - -But these occupations did not prevent the afternoons from hanging heavy -on her hands. Victor Hugo spent them in writing _Napolon le Petit_; or -he organised expeditions to Malines, Louvain, Anvers, with friends; or -he yielded to the material pleasures of Flemish life, and accepted -invitations to dine at some of those culinary institutes on which -Brussels so prides herself. - -But none of these resources were open to Juliette. Confined within the -four walls of her narrow chamber, her only view was of roofs, and a dull -wall, pierced by a single dirty window; she spent whole hours watching a -canary in its cage, through the thick panes. She likened her condition -to that of the tiny captive. At other times, she allowed her thoughts to -roam among past events, and brooded over the packet of letters so -cruelly sent to her the year before[50]; she dwelt upon the grief she -had endured for many months, the choice the poet had finally made in her -favour, and their joint excursion to Fontainebleau to celebrate the -reconciliation. Under the depressing influence of the grey Belgian sky, -always partially obscured by thick smoke, she realised that her splendid -vitality and her love for novelty had departed for ever. Then she -allowed jealousy to resume its sway over her, more powerfully than ever. - -In this mood, she once more resolved to set Victor Hugo free: "If you -tell me to go," she wrote on January 25th, 1852, "I will do so without -even turning my head to look at you." But again he bade her stay. - -Gravely, then, without showing any symptom of her former coyness, she -proposed to discontinue her letters. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN JERSEY.] - -Fortunately, at this very juncture, the unwelcome attentions of the -Belgian police, who were nervous about the forthcoming publication of -_Napolon le Petit_, had decided Victor Hugo to leave Brussels and go to -Jersey. Juliette was to go also, either in the steamer with him, or in -one starting a few hours later. Naturally he urged her to go on writing, -if only to bridge over the short separation. She admits that when she -landed at St. Helier, on August 6th, 1852, hope had once more gained the -ascendant within her breast. For the first time in her life, she was -about to enjoy the society of her "dear little exile," her "sublime -outlaw," all by herself, far from the madding crowd. - - -II - -Victor Hugo resided at first in an hotel at St. Helier, called La Pomme -d'Or. Later he settled on the sea-front at Marine Terrace, Georgetown, -in an enormous house which, owing to its square shape and skylights, -resembled a prison. - -Juliette had intended to put up at the Auberge du Commerce, but for -twenty years she had never sat at a table d'hte without the protection -of the poet. The proximity of tradespeople and farmers proved -insupportable to her. On August 11th she began a search for a suitable -boarding-house, and presently concluded a bargain with the proprietress -of Nelson Hall, Hvres-des-Pas, for lodging at eight shillings a week, -and board at two shillings a day. This made a monthly expenditure of -about a hundred and fifteen francs, to which was added twenty-five -francs, the wages of Suzanne, her maid. - -Like Marine Terrace, Nelson Hall's chief claim to maritime advantages -was its name. At Victor Hugo's house there were no large windows -overlooking the sea, and in Juliette's ground-floor rooms, a high paling -screened the topmost crest of the highest wave. - -Our heroine tried to console herself by listening to the surge of the -ocean, and copying the nearly completed manuscript of _L'Histoire d'un -crime_, or the poems the poet intended to add to the volume of _Les -Chtiments_. At the end of September she moved upstairs to a large room -on the first floor of the house, whence a wide view could be had of the -barren scenery of Hvres-des-Pas, from the battery of Fort Regent on the -right, to the rocks of St. Clment on the left; but Juliette's peaceful -contemplation was constantly disturbed by the violence of the -proprietress, a drunkard, who was renowned all over the island for the -vigour with which she beat her husband when in her cups. - -A further removal was therefore decided upon in January 1853, and -carried out on February 6th. Juliette went to live in furnished -apartments next door, consisting, as in Paris, of a bedroom, -drawing-room, dining-room, and kitchen, on the first floor. They -overlooked a vast stretch of sand and shingle, rocks and seaweed. - -At first Victor Hugo seldom went to his friend's house, but met her each -day at the outset of his walk and took her with him along roads where -the magic of summer glorified every blade of grass. From end to end of -the island, Dame Nature had transformed herself into a garden, where all -was perfumed, gay, and smiling. Juliette, walking arm in arm with her -lover, could feel the glad beating of his heart; her upraised eyes noted -that his dear face seemed less worried. With the ingenuity of a -twenty-year-old sweetheart, she entertained him of his own country, and -invoked memories of the journeys they had made together in former days -to the Rhine, the Alps, the Pyrenees. The exile remembered, not the -rain, nor the omnibuses, nor the thousand trifles recalled by Juliette, -but France ... his own beautiful France.... Under the influence of that -voice which had once made him free of the realm of love, his country was -restored to him for a fleeting moment. - -The lovers were unpleasantly surprised by the week of tempests which -ushered in the equinox, and was followed without a pause by the setting -in of winter. "Everything became sombre, grey, violent, terrible, -stormy, severe." Day and night rain fell, and "the drops chased each -other down the window-panes like silver hairs."[51] Amidst the uproar to -which frenzied Nature suddenly delivered herself, the daily tramps were -perforce discontinued. Fortunately for Juliette, Victor Hugo found -Nelson House warmer than his house at Marine Terrace. His wife had -recently joined him, but had brought with her neither comfort nor the -serene atmosphere propitious for an author's labours. As in the old days -of the Rue St. Anastase, therefore, he set up a writing-table near the -fire in Juliette's sitting-room, with a few volumes of Michelet and -Quinet, and a novel or two by Georges Sand; and every day, after -lunching with his own family, the poet came to work in his friend's -room. Juliette determined to "find the way back to his heart through his -appetite,"[52] as she wrote to him, so she insisted upon his dining -with her. She appealed to his greediness as well as to his hospitable -instincts, assuring him that nowhere else could he so successfully -entertain his new companions, the exiles, as at her abode. Soon she gave -two "exiles' dinners" a week, then three, then four; finally, she had -one every day. - -With the assistance of his two sons, whom he had at length presented to -Juliette, Victor Hugo presided at these feasts with an affability born -in part of a desire for popularity. Juliette showed herself more -reserved, more severe. Accustomed to treat the poet as a divinity, she -could not tolerate the familiarity of these petty folk. "A brotherly -cobbler is not to my taste," she said harshly. "I cannot resign myself -to this consorting of vulgar mediocrity with your genius." - -Her sweetness to the two sons of the poet was as marked as the -haughtiness of her manner towards the victims of the _Coup d'tat_. For -twenty years she had longed to be friends with them. As far back as -1839, on the occasion of a distribution of prizes at which Charles and -Franois Victor were to cover themselves with honours, she wrote: "What -a pity I cannot witness their triumph! I love them with all my heart, -and would give my life for them; but that is not enough. I will avenge -myself by praying that they may remain always as they are at present: -charming and good." - -Later we find her treasuring their portraits, anxious about their little -childish ailments, pleading for them when they incurred punishment, and -overwhelming them with little presents manufactured by her pen or -needle, whenever she received the master's sanction to do so. - -What joy it must have given her to receive officially at her table these -children grown to manhood! As soon as she became acquainted with them, -she raised the young men to the level of Victor Hugo in the order of her -preoccupations, and resolved to do nothing for the father, in the way of -spoiling and cherishing, that she did not do also for the sons. If she -copied _Les Contemplations_, she protested that she must also write out -Franois Victor's translation of Shakespeare. If she sent Suzanne to -Marine Terrace with a herb soup for the master, she bade her carry six -lilac shirts for Charles. - -Even young Adle and Madame Victor Hugo accepted her good offices -without demur. For Adle, Juliette picked the earliest strawberries and -the first roses of the Nelson Hall garden; she embroidered handkerchiefs -on which Charles had designed the monogram, and bound together the -serial stories of Madame Sand, cut from magazines. For Madame Victor -Hugo she prepared a certain soup made of goose, which, she said, was -most succulent. She lent her Suzanne, her own servant, for the whole -time Marine Terrace was without a cook, and meanwhile went without a -servant herself, and did her own cooking. She spoilt her skin and wore -down her nails, but she took a pride in her devotion and -self-abnegation, and resolved to carry them even further. She dreamt of -entering Victor Hugo's household for good, to assume in all humility the -position of an ex-mistress become housekeeper. - -However numerous may have been the wrongs Victor Hugo inflicted upon -this woman, whose jealousy he never ceased to excite, one must admit -that he felt and appreciated the greatness of her love. Like a great -many men, the artist in him recognised a moral worth that no longer -satisfied his needs as a lover; he experienced generous revulsions, -under the influence of which he paid her carefully studied attentions, -which bore a semblance of impulse and spontaneity gratifying to her -feelings. - - -III - -The young queen, Victoria, having paid France, in the person of Napoleon -III, the gracious compliment of a visit in August 1855, the exiles of -Jersey dared address an insolent letter to her, which was published by -their quaintly-named journal, _L'Homme_. True to his native chivalry, -Victor Hugo declined to sign this manifesto[53]; but he was indignant -when the authorities of Jersey marked their disapproval by expelling its -three authors. He protested vigorously against their punishment, and was -in his turn driven from the island on August 31st. - -He went to Guernsey, a neighbouring island, bleaker and less temperate -in climate. He settled at first at No. 20, Rue Hauteville, St. Pierre -Port. On May 16th, 1856, he bought a roomy, substantial house built on -the shore at some former period by an English pirate. It only required -restoration, to make it a suitable residence. It was called Hauteville -House. - -Here again, Juliette lived successively at the inn, and at a -boarding-house kept by a Frenchwoman, Mademoiselle Leboutellier. But -when she found that Victor Hugo could no longer content himself with a -temporary house, and intended to send for the furniture and -art-collection he had stored at the rooms in Paris,[54] she begged him -to include her in his plans, and let her have her own things also. She -was tired of so-called English comfort, with its hard beds, narrow -sheets, straight-backed chairs, and tiny wardrobes. - -Victor Hugo gave a generous assent to her request. He took a little -house for her, called La Pallue, close to, and overlooking, Hauteville -House. The faithful Suzanne was despatched to France to pack and send to -Guernsey all the Hugo family's and Juliette's possessions. She returned -on August 9th. The furniture and art-collection arrived on the 20th of -the same month. - -A busy time followed, for the lovers. They threw themselves feverishly -into the excitements of removal, decoration, and treasure-hunting. -Victor Hugo dropped spiritualism and photography, which had been his -recreations in Jersey, to become architect, cabinet-maker, and joiner. -He undertook the supervision of Juliette's arrangements as well as his -own, bought antique Norman furniture, which he turned to various uses, -manufactured carpets and curtains out of Juliette's old theatre frocks, -designed panels and mantelpieces, and the many incongruous articles -which now decorate the Muse Victor Hugo, and which his friend aptly -called "a poetical pot-pourri of art." - -In this wise, the fitting up of the two houses lasted over a -considerable period. We learn from Juliette that the poet was still busy -with his dining-room on April 2nd, 1857, and on May 28th, 1858, he -wrote to Georges Sand: "My house is still only a shell. The worthy -Guernseyites have taken possession of it, and, assuming that I am a rich -man, are making the most of the French gentleman, and spinning out the -work." - -Juliette, whose dwelling was more modest, had the enjoyment of it -sooner. She settled into La Pallue at the beginning of November 1856, -and had the happiness henceforth of seeing her friend many times a day. -He had constructed on the roof of Hauteville House a room that he -somewhat pretentiously named his "crystal drawing-room," and that we -should call a belvedere; it was roofed and covered in with glass on all -sides. His bedroom opened out of it. - -Every morning he sat and worked there, at a flap-table affixed to the -wall, when the cold did not drive him to some warmer part of the house. -Beneath his gaze spread the low town, the port, the group of -Anglo-Norman islands, and, in clear weather, the coast of Cotentin. At -his back, and slightly higher up, Juliette, from her little house, kept -watch and ward over him. From that moment it may be said that, though -Juliette's body was at La Pallue, her heart and mind inhabited -Hauteville House. - -Unfortunately, as winter progressed, the storms grew worse, and a -darkness reigned that made reading and copying difficult. "Like a great -lake turned upside down," the sky hung lowering above the gloomy houses, -and only allowed the pale rays of a leaden sun to pierce through it, at -infrequent intervals. The rest of the time the atmosphere remained -charged with rheumatic-dealing clamminess. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO IN JERSEY.] - -Juliette, just entering her fiftieth year, bore the rigours of the -climate with difficulty. She would have died of it, she declared, had -she not been upheld by the influence of love. She was a martyr to gout, -and greatly dreaded being crippled by it. She brooded long and often -upon death and the dead. Whether under the influence of a priest, or in -response to some inward prompting we cannot tell, but she reverted for a -time to her former religious practices. - - -IV - -In April 1863, when Juliette was slowly recovering from another attack -of gout, Victor Hugo realised the extreme humidity of La Pallue. On the -advice of his sons, who seem to have been of one mind with him on the -subject, he decided that Juju, as he called her, should move as quickly -as possible, and that he should for the second time assume the functions -of architect, upholsterer, and decorator of her new dwelling. - -Juliette offered a prolonged and strenuous resistance to the plan, for -the house chosen for her possessed the grave inconvenience of being at -some distance from Hauteville House. The idea that she would no longer -be able to watch every movement of her lover, drew from our heroine -lamentations and loving reproaches. But Victor Hugo was adamant, and on -February 2nd, 1864, the anniversary of the first performance of _Lucrce -Borgia_, "Princesse Ngroni" took up her abode in the new house, which -she named Hauteville Ferie. - -There again the poet had arranged everything himself. Remembering -Juliette's attachment for her rooms in Rue St. Anastase, he had -endeavoured to reconstitute faithfully its curtain of crimson and gold, -its peacocks embroidered on panels, its china, the porcelain dragons -which adorned the dresser, and especially the numerous mirrors that -reflected and multiplied the furniture, knick-knacks, and embroideries. - -When Juliette was shown this "marvel," she said she had no words to -express her admiration and gratitude. Then, knowing how often Madame -Victor Hugo was away on the Continent, and how uncomfortable the poet -was at home, she offered to act in turn as hostess and housekeeper to -him. - -In 1863 we find her assuming Madame Victor Hugo's duties during the -short absence of the latter, and at the end of 1864, during a further -one which lasted until February 1867, she divided her time equally -between Hauteville House and Hauteville Ferie. - -But there is a difference in her methods of ruling the two -establishments. At Hauteville House she governs without obtruding -herself, wisely, discreetly, somewhat mysteriously. She directs the -servants, reproves them if necessary, superintends the accounts, and -keeps down expenses. But she carries out her task from her place in the -background. Officially, the poet lives alone with his sons and his -sister-in-law, Madame Julie Chenay; when he entertains friends from -Paris, Juliette's name is not mentioned. - -At Hauteville Ferie, on the contrary, our heroine is at home. It -behoves her to comport herself as the mistress of the house, and expend -her gifts of mind, as well as her talents as a manager. As she says, -"she must be both lady and housekeeper." - -In this double rle it might be supposed that she would be reluctant to -receive the exiles presented to her by Victor Hugo, whose society is so -distasteful to her. Not so. Once more Juliette accepts, through duty and -devotion, that which she never would have tolerated on her own account. - -The poet was bored, alas! Though he was composing splendid poetry, his -long dialogue with Mother Nature was beginning to pall upon him. His -somewhat theatrical genius demanded more than a fine stage; it required -a public. Without it, the author of _Les Chtiments_ was but the shadow -of the poet of _Ruy Blas_. No doubt the bronzing of his skin by the salt -breath of the sea, and the virulence of his spite against Napoleon III, -lent him a fictitious appearance of spring and vigour; but there were -times when he flagged sadly, and when despondency and fatigue expressed -themselves in the droop of his lips, the sagging of his ill-shaved -cheeks, the wrinkles on his brow, and, especially, the heavy pockets -beneath his eyes. His attire betrayed his complete neglect of himself. -When he walked through the Place de Hauteville in his Girondin hat all -battered by the wind, his cashmere neckcloth carelessly knotted under an -untidy collar, his open coat revealing a buttonless shirt in summer, and -in winter, a faded scarlet waistcoat which Robespierre himself would -have despised, the little children he so loved ran from him as if he -were accursed.[55] - -Juliette grasped these mute warnings, and, as soon as she was -established in the vast frame of Hauteville Ferie, she attempted to -reconstitute the society she had once presided over at Jersey. She even -endeavoured to enlarge the circle and admit a few new-comers. - -Juliette was able to maintain the simple dignity to which she attached -so much importance, and from which she departed only in favour of her -poet, in the most delicate circumstance of her life, namely, when Madame -Victor Hugo offered her her friendship. She did not decline it, but, -where many might have erred by an excess of satisfaction and -familiarity, she showed a discreet reserve highly creditable to her. -Since their exile, the relations of the two women had undergone a great -change. On the one hand, Madame Victor Hugo's perpetual pursuit of -pleasure, her constant fatigue, her laziness, and her incapacity to -manage a house, had gradually involved her in the network of attentions, -civilities, and petting, Juliette lavished upon her and hers. The -reports brought to her by her sons and servants of the doings at -Hauteville Ferie, had given her a good opinion of our heroine; her -natural kindliness did the rest, and she showed herself disposed to -treat in neighbourly, and even friendly, fashion one whom she might -justly have hated as a rival. - -On the other hand, Juliette no longer felt that jealousy of the mistress -against the legitimate wife, that she had experienced at the beginning -of her love-story. But actual friendship between Madame Victor Hugo and -Juliette was hindered for a long time, by the fear of English criticism, -and of those Guernseyites of whom Victor Hugo wrote, that they made even -the scenery of the island look prim. Juliette dreaded the unkind -tittle-tattle the exiles would not fail to retail to her, if she -accepted the advances from Hauteville House. Therefore, during the first -ten years at Guernsey, she only set foot in her friend's house once, in -1858, to inspect the treasures the master had collected in it. Madame -Victor Hugo was absent that day. - -At the end of 1864, the wife of the poet became more urgent in her -invitations. She was about to depart to the Continent, to undergo -treatment for her eyes; her absence might be, and indeed was, -indefinitely prolonged. However careless she might be in housekeeping -matters, she was probably loath to commit her husband to the tender -mercies of her sister, Madame Julie Chenay, who boasted of possessing -neither aptitude for business nor a head for figures. She saw the use -that might be made of the poet's friend, and opened negotiations by -inviting her to dinner. But Juliette declined. This policy of -self-effacement was continued by her even during the long absence of -Madame Victor Hugo in 1865 and 1866. When Victor Hugo pressed her to -dine with him, in secret if necessary, she wrote: "Permit me to refuse -the honour you offer me, for the sake of the thirty years of discretion -and respect I have observed towards your house." - -In the end, however, Madame Victor Hugo gained the day, and overcame -this dignified reticence. On her return to Guernsey on January 15th, -1867, she declared her intention of paying Juliette a visit. The -diplomatic abilities of the poet were taxed to the uttermost in the -regulation of the details of this important event. The visit took place -on January 22nd. It was impossible to avoid returning it. Juliette did -so on the 24th, and thenceforth, no longer hesitated to cross the -threshold of Hauteville House. She went there almost every day, to -revise the manuscript and the copies of _Les Misrables_ with the help -of Madame Chenay; in 1868, she spent the whole month of May under its -roof, while her faithful Suzanne was in France. - -Similarly, she no longer minded being seen in public with Victor Hugo -and his sons, and even his wife, during the journeys they made together. -Whereas in 1861, for instance, on a journey to Waterloo and Mont St. -Jean, we still find her dining apart, and seeming to ignore Charles -Hugo, in 1867, she is constantly at the latter's house in Brussels, -attending the family dinners and enjoying the charm of what she calls "a -delicate and discreet rehabilitation" by Madame Hugo and her -daughter-in-law. She took her share in their joys as in their sorrows. - -It was at Brussels that the three grandchildren of the poet were born, -and there also that he lost successively, in April and August 1868, his -eldest grandchild and his wife. He mourned the latter with the sorrow of -a man from whom the memory of his early love has not faded. As for -Juliette, her regret was thoroughly sincere. She did not venture to -attend the funeral, in deference to outside gossip; but when, a few days -later, she went to the house and saw the empty arm-chair Madame Victor -Hugo's indulgent personality had been wont to occupy, she could not -restrain her tears. - -Victor Hugo and his friend returned to Guernsey on October 6th, 1868. -They continued to inhabit separate houses, but dined together at one or -the other. They also resumed their sea-side walks, and their long -talks, of which the chief topic was the second son of Charles Hugo, an -infant who had been left behind at Brussels. - -The infirmities of increasing age occasionally prevented our heroine -from following her indefatigable companion. She would then remain at her -chimney corner, reading the _Lives of the Saints_ or some devotional -book. She was more than ever prone to reflect upon death. She had been -greatly shocked by the rapidity with which Madame Victor Hugo had -succumbed, and she felt that her turn, and that of the poet, must soon -come. She prayed ardently that she might be permitted to go first. - -In August 1869 Victor Hugo took Juliette with him, first to Brussels, -where Charles Hugo and Paul Meurice joined them, and then to the Rhine, -which held so many sweet memories for both. On their return to Guernsey -on November 6th, he proceeded to plan a journey to Italy for the -following winter. He also made arrangements for the revival of _Lucrce -Borgia_ at the Porte St. Martin. The journey to Italy was never carried -out, but on February 2nd, 1870, on the anniversary of its first -performance, _Lucrce_ had a brilliant success. - -The old poet was enchanted. - -Foreseeing the fall of the Empire, and guessing that the French were -sick of a rgime which, during the last eighteen years, had confused -government with spying, and politics with police, he redoubled the -activity of his propaganda, and indited letter after letter, manifesto -after manifesto. The more Juliette confessed to the lassitude of age, -the more he seemed to defy his years. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -"THAT WHICH BRINGS SATISFACTION TO THE HEART" - - -I - -When Victor Hugo grasped the full extent of the national disaster in -August 1870, he started immediately for Belgium. On the proclamation of -the Republic, he proceeded to the frontier, where a few official friends -awaited him. - -The scene that took place on his arrival was impressive, though somewhat -theatrical. The "sublime outlaw" asked for the bread and wine of France. -After he had eaten and drunk, he begged Juliette to preserve a fragment -of the bread, and buried his face in his hands with the gesture of one -who is dazzled by too much light. Juliette relates that big tears flowed -through his clenched fingers. The bystanders stood in silence, awed by -his emotion.... - -The poet and our heroine stayed with Paul Meurice at Avenue Frochot for -a time, and then went to the Htel du Pavillon de Rohan. Finally they -settled, he in a small furnished apartment at 66, Rue de la -Rochefoucauld, and she close by, in a fairly spacious _entresol_ rented -at fourteen hundred francs, at 55, Rue Pigalle. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO, HIS FAMILY, AND JULIETTE DROUET AT -HAUTEVILLE HOUSE.] - -But hardly had they resumed the peaceful tenor of their ways when they -were forced to uproot again. On February 8th, 1871, Victor Hugo was -elected a member of the Assemble Nationale, and, as he could not -bear to be parted any longer from his grandchildren, he removed his -whole household to Bordeaux, including his son Charles, his mistress -Juliette, and the little heroes of _L'Art d'tre grandpre_. They -started on February 13th, and the poet took his seat on the 15th. On -March 8th he felt it his duty to resign, on account of the refusal of -his colleagues to allow Garibaldi to be naturalised a Frenchman. He was -about to leave, when a fresh sorrow struck him down: this was the sudden -death of Charles Hugo, on March 13th. - -The body of the unfortunate and charming young man was taken back to -Paris, and the funeral took place on the 18th, in the sinister scenario -of the rising insurrection. On the 21st, Victor Hugo went to Belgium to -make arrangements for his grandchildren's future. Two months and a half -later, he was expelled from Brussels, for rewarding its hospitality by -throwing his house open as a refuge to the political miscreants who had -just fired Paris and shed the blood of their compatriots. He was the -object of a violently hostile demonstration on May 27th, 1871, and -afterwards received the decree of expulsion. He went to Vianden, in the -Grand Duchy of Luxembourg, and returned definitely to Paris in September -1871. Juliette had accompanied him everywhere. - -No sooner was the luggage unpacked, than she bravely undertook to amuse -him, by forming a small circle of his friends and admirers, in her -drawing-room at Rue Pigalle. But the undertaking was beyond her powers. -Her long sojourn in a solitary island and her complete absorption in one -sole object, had resulted in the loss of what might be termed her -social talent. In France, and especially in Paris, everything was new -to her, everything caused her agitation. - -The state of her health was not such as to restore her equanimity. She -suffered from gout and heart-disease, was growing stout, walked with -difficulty, slept badly, and was terribly weary: "I am so tired," she -writes, "that I feel as if even eternity would fail to rest me." - -Victor Hugo, therefore, gave up the entertainments at Rue Pigalle; the -boxes were repacked, and on August 14th, 1872, the party returned to -that island where everything spoke to the exile of former joys, from the -anemones he loved, to the cherry-tree he had planted himself. - -In the mornings, at half-past eleven, Victor Hugo used to make his -joyous appearance at Hauteville Ferie, and escort his friend to -Hauteville House, where the luncheon-table was proudly attended by -Georges and Jeanne. In the afternoon, a family drive was organised. The -largest carriage on the island was hardly big enough to contain the dear -beings by whom he loved to be surrounded. The hours drifted peacefully -towards dusk. - -While our heroine lived on future hopes and past memories, Victor Hugo -enjoyed the present more than ever. Every one knows of his gallantry, -and the bold front he offered to advancing age. Amongst other comforting -illusions, he chose to believe that women prefer old men, and he gloried -in proving his theory. With more sense than she has been credited with, -Juliette sometimes managed to close her eyes and ears; at other times -she gently rallied him, congratulating him on the success of his most -recent exploit. But more often it must be admitted that her temper was -not equal to the nobility of her nature. To jealousy was presently added -the pain of humiliation and offended dignity, caused by a vulgar -intrigue, conducted under her very eyes, at her own fireside. - -At last, at the end of the visit to Guernsey, which had turned out so -differently from her expectations, Juliette came to a grave decision. -She resolved to abandon the field to the frail beauties whom chance, -desire, or self-interest, gathered around her poet, and to retire to -live at Brest with her sister, or at Brussels with her friends the -Luthereau. - -Having borrowed 200 frs. from some one, Juliette actually started on -September 23rd, 1873, without leaving the smallest note of farewell for -Victor Hugo. But he lost no time in despatching a letter of recall, and -he couched it in terms so eloquent, and so pathetic, that once more the -poor woman was fain to overlook the past. She returned to Rue Pigalle on -September 27th. She subsequently wrote to the kind hosts with whom she -had taken refuge: "I have been very foolish, very cruel, very stupid; -but I am rewarded. If one could hope for a second resurrection like -this, one might be almost tempted to go through it all again." - - -II - -Shortly after Juliette's act of defiance, her friend imposed the fatigue -of a new removal upon her. The author of _L'Art d'tre grandpre_ had -just lost his son, Franois Victor. More than ever he turned to his -little grandchildren for consolation, and at the end of 1873, he decided -to join households with them and their mother. For a rental of 6,000 -frs. a year, he took two apartments, one above the other, at 21, Rue de -Clichy. On April 28th, 1874, Juliette took possession of the third floor -with her maid, while Madame Charles Hugo, her children, and the poet, -settled in the fourth. - -The receptions and dinners began again almost at once. At first they -were weekly, then bi-weekly, and finally daily. The table was large and -well attended. In addition to the five people forming the family party, -including Juliette, there were rarely fewer than seven guests. Our -heroine, in her capacity of chief steward, usually provided for twelve. -She liked the fare to be simple and substantial: _sole Normande_, -_ctelettes Soubise_, and _poulets au cresson_ were the chief items of -the repast. - -Housekeeping on this scale demanded a staff of competent servants. -Juliette had five, for whom she was responsible. She superintended their -expenditure, their purchases, and the use to which they put the -provisions; she commended good work and reproved faults, and in fact -fulfilled the functions of a majordomo in a situation where the daily -expenditure exceeded 4 for food, and approximated 2 for wines and -spirits. She also had to supervise the department of the invitations, -draw up lists, and sort the guests of each day, so as to temper the -solemnity of a Sch[oe]lcher or a Renan, with the wit and froth of a -Flaubert or a Monselet. Juliette assumed this charge, submitted the -names to Victor Hugo, wrote the letters, opened the answers, and -classified them. If anybody failed at the last moment, she telegraphed -to some one on the "subsidiary list," as she called it, and only ceased -her efforts when she was assured of being able to offer to the -gratified master a full table and a numerous and docile court. - -She was now at the head of that court, but it must not be supposed that -it was by her own desire. On the contrary, she practised the most severe -self-effacement. Clad in black, wearing as her only jewel a cameo set in -gold, representing Madame Victor Hugo, and bequeathed to her in the -latter's will, she usually sat at the chimney-corner in a large -arm-chair. Fatigued by her laborious preparations, it frequently -happened that she fell asleep in the drawing-room, as Madame Victor Hugo -had been wont to do. This lapse of manners so covered her with -confusion, that she made a vow either to bring her health up to the -level of her devotion or else to disappear from view. She did, in fact, -redouble her activities, to an extent astonishing in a septuagenarian. -She undertook to follow the aged poet whenever he mingled with crowds. -At Quinet's and Frdric Lematre's funerals, she was present in the -throng, an infirm old woman, watching from a distance, over a Victor -Hugo, upright as a dart, and full of vitality. Did he wish to make an -ascent in a balloon, she was there; when he conducted a rehearsal, or -read one of his early dramas to his modern interpreters, it was she who -led the applause, declared that the voice of Olympio had retained all -its strength and beauty, and that he had never read better. - -In the period between 1874 and 1878 it must be conceded that Victor Hugo -did his best to secure to his friend a greater degree of mental -tranquillity than she had ever enjoyed before. He was careful to conceal -his infidelities from her, and often succeeded in averting scenes and -reproaches; or, if denial seemed impossible, he tried to palliate his -fault and gain indulgence by addressing to her one of those poetical -odes in which he excelled, and from which she derived such pride and -joy. - -But these were only passing revivals of youthful emotions, in the poet -as well as in his friend. They resemble those bonfires of dead leaves, -lighted by labourers in autumn on the summit of bare hills--their flame -can ill withstand the slightest puff of wind. Such a puff blew upon the -old couple in the course of the year 1878. - -Juliette was greatly troubled about the state of her health. She wrote -to the poet, on January 8th: "I feel that everything is going from me -and crumbling in my grasp: my sight, my memory, my strength, my -courage." - -On June 28th of the same year, at one of those copious banquets to which -he still did full justice, and in the midst of an argument with Louis -Blanc concerning Voltaire and Rousseau, Victor Hugo had a cerebral -attack which alarmed his friends exceedingly. His speech faltered, he -gesticulated feebly. Two doctors summoned in haste failed to give -reassurance, and prescribed absolute rest in the country. On July 4th, -the poet was escorted to Guernsey by a large retinue consisting of his -grandchildren, the Meurice family, Juliette, Monsieur and Madame -Lockroy, Richard Lesclide, and another friend, Pelleport. But no sooner -had they reached the island, than Victor Hugo began to show symptoms of -agitation. It could not be on account of his illness, for he was living -quietly and comfortably, rejoicing at the amusement the season afforded -his friends, and taking his own share of it. But, according to the -testimony of one who has published a book concerning the master as witty -as it is frank,[56] the reason was that he had left behind him in Paris -the heroines of several intrigues; amongst others, the young person -whose behaviour had occasioned Juliette's fit of anger and departure for -Brest,[57] and he was fearful lest the post should convey to Guernsey -the forlorn cooings of the deserted doves, and that some echo of them -should reach Juliette. - -Our heroine was certainly informed of some of the circumstances, for on -August 20th, 1878, while still at Guernsey, she wrote the old man a -letter which is a revelation of the changed character of their -intercourse. Victor Hugo answered somewhat crossly and contemptuously, -and nicknamed Juliette "the schoolmistress." - -On his return to Paris on November 10th, he consented to remove to the -little house at Avenue d'Eylau where he ended his days, and which was -then almost in the country. Juliette took the first floor, and he -occupied the second. But presently she arranged to spend the nights in a -spare room next to his, so that she might be at hand to attend upon him -if necessary. - -From that moment it may be said that her life declined into -uninterrupted sadness and servitude. She was suffering from an internal -cancer, and knew that she was condemned to die of slow starvation! -Nevertheless, she played her part of sick nurse with a devotion and a -minute attention to detail to which all witnesses tender their homage. -She it was who entered the poet's chamber each morning, and woke him -with a kiss; she, who put a match to the fire ready laid on the hearth, -and prepared the eggs for his breakfast; she, who waited on the old man -while he ate, opened his letters, made extracts from them when -necessary, and answered the most important. It was she, again, who -undertook to keep her beloved friend company until midday, and to amuse -him, and acquaint him with the current political and literary news. - -The task was heavy enough to weary a much younger brain. Juliette found -it almost beyond her strength. In 1880 she was so overwrought that she -had become nervous, irritable, and restless. At night, when her offices -of reader and sick nurse were over, it must not be supposed that she was -able to sleep. From her bed in the adjoining room, with eyes fixed, and -ear on the stretch, she watched the slumber of her dear neighbour, under -the great Renaissance baldachino, with its crimson damask curtains. Did -he cough, she rose hurriedly and administered a soothing drink; but if -she coughed herself, and thus ran the risk of awaking him, she was -furious, longed for a gag, and tried to suppress the labouring of her -suffering breast. She cursed the years that had made her love a burden -to its object, and chid her body for a bad servant no longer subservient -to her will. - -Severe as were the physical sufferings she bore so patiently under -shadow of the night, Juliette preferred them to the sadness she endured -during the long, solitary afternoons, while her former companion was at -the Senate, at the Acadmie, or elsewhere. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN 1883. - -From the picture by Bastien Lepage.] - -We must picture her at that period, not as Thodore de Banville -represents her in his formal description, but as Bastien Lepage painted -her with more truth, about the same time. Disease has made cruel inroads -on the grave, serene, once goddess-like features. Her poor countenance -is worn and wasted, covered with a fine network of wrinkles, each one of -which tells its tale of suffering. Her hair, whose sheen was formerly -likened by poets to the satin petals of a lily, and which once fell -naturally into crown-like waves, is roughened and harsh, and has assumed -that yellowish tinge which so often presages death. Her lips, no longer -revived by kisses, are pale, her eyes heavy and anguished, her smile -faded. - -Seated by the fire in winter, and at the open window overlooking the -Avenue d'Eylau in summer, she who was the "Princesse Ngroni," now -presents the woeful appearance of a grandmother without grandchildren. - -Sometimes she tries to pray. She calls death to her aid, she complains -of the slowness with which the bonds of the soul loose those of the -body. - -In September 1882, she made a short journey with Victor Hugo to Veules, -to stay with Paul Meurice, and to Villequier, to stay with Auguste -Vacquerie. She took to her bed immediately on her return. By a great -effort of will, she got up once more, to attend the revival of _Le Roi -s'amuse_ on November 25th; then she finally returned to her chamber and -never left it again. - -Neither her body nor her mind was capable of assimilating nourishment. -She waved happy memories aside. - -Every afternoon the old poet paid her a visit. He disliked any mention -of death, and could not bear the sight of suffering. If we are to -believe Juliette, he had made a rule that every one must forswear -melancholy, and shake off sad thoughts, before appearing in his -presence. Docile as ever, the sick woman endeavoured to smile when he -entered her room. She listened submissively to the arguments by which he -sought to persuade her that she did not really suffer, that there is no -such thing as suffering. Up till May 11th, 1883, the very day of her -death, there remained thus about one hour of the day during which she -still had to play her part, restrain her moans, and look cheerful. She -did it to the best of her power, and doubtless, in the triumph of that -daily victory gained over torture by her indomitable spirit, she found -at last the answer that the poet should have put into the mouth of -Maffio--she discovered that "That which brings satisfaction to the -heart" is neither desire, nor caresses, nor even love: it is -self-sacrifice.[58] - - - - -PART II - -_LETTERS_ - - -_Sunday, 8.30 p.m. (1833)._ - -Before beginning to copy or count words,[59] I must write you one line -of love, my dear little lunatic. I love you--do you understand, I love -you! This is a profession of faith which comprises all my duty and -integrity. I love you, _ergo_, I am faithful to you, I see only you, -think only of you, speak only to you, touch only you, breathe you, -desire you, dream of you; in a word, I love you! that means everything. - -Do not therefore give way any more to melancholy; permit yourself to be -loved and to be happy. Fear nothing from me, never doubt me, and we -shall be blissful beyond words. - -I am expecting you shortly, and am ready with warm and tender caresses -which, I hope, will cheer you. - -Your JUJU. - - -(1833). - -Since you left me I carry death in my heart. If you go to the ball -to-night, it must be at the cost of a definite rupture between us. The -pain I suffer at imagining you moving among that throng of fascinating, -careless women, is too great for you to be able to inflict it without -incurring guilt towards me. Write to me "Care of Madame K...." If I do -not hear from you before midnight, I shall understand that you care very -little for me ... that all is over between us ... and for ever. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 2.30 p.m. (1833)._ - -I cannot refrain, dearly beloved, from commenting upon the profound -melancholy you were in this morning, and upon the doubt you manifest on -every occasion as to the sincerity of my love. This unjustifiable -suspicion on your part disheartens me beyond all expression. It -intimidates me and makes me fear to confide to you the incidents my -dubious position exposes me to. To-day, for instance, I concealed from -you the visit of a creditor, who presented himself to the porter, but -was not shown up. I paid him out of my own resources, without your -knowledge, because you are always telling me _I do not love you_. This -expression from you makes me feel that you hold a shameful opinion of me -and my character, rendered possible perhaps by my situation, but none -the less false, unjust, and cruel. - -I love you _because_ I love you, because it would be impossible for me -not to love you. I love you without question, without calculation, -without reason good or bad, faithfully, with all my heart and soul, and -every faculty. Believe it, for it is true. If you cannot believe, I -being at your side, I will make a drastic effort to force you to do so. -I shall have the mournful satisfaction of sacrificing myself utterly to -a distrust as absurd as it is unfounded. - -Meanwhile, I ask your pardon for the guilty thought that came to me this -morning, and which may possibly recur, if you continue to see in my love -only a mean-spirited compliance and an unworthy speculation. This letter -is very lengthy, and very sad to write. I trust with all my soul, that I -may never have to reiterate its sentiments. - -I love you. Indeed I love you. Believe in me. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 8.15 p.m. (1833)._ - -Here is a second letter. Forgive my epistolary extravagance. Honestly, I -imagine you must soon tire, to put it as mildly as possible, of this -superabundance of letters. - -The reason of my writing again is no novel one: it is merely to repeat -that I love you every day and every instant more and more; that I feel -convinced you are only too eager to return my sentiments, but that -between your desire and your capacity there stands a wall a hundred feet -high, entitled "suspicion." Suspicion leads to contempt, and when that -exists, no real love is possible. There is no answer to what I have just -stated. I feel it, and am crushed by my sorrow. I know not what to do, -where to go, what plans to make. I can only suffer, just as I can only -love you. - -JULIETTE. - -If ever this letter is found, it will be seen that my love was -insufficient in your eyes to atone for my past. - -_2 a.m. (1833)._ - -MY VICTOR, - -I love you truly, and neither know, nor can conceive, any personality -more deserving of devotion than yourself. - -I look up to you as a faithful, reliable friend, as the noblest and most -estimable of men. - -It hurts me to feel that my past life must be an obstacle to your -confidence. Before I cared for you, I felt no shame for it, I made no -attempt to conceal or alter it; but, since I have known you, this -attitude of mind has changed in every respect. I blush for myself, and -dread lest my love have not the strength to erase the stains of the -past. I fear it even more, when you suspect me unjustly. - -My Victor, it is for your love to sanctify me, for your esteem to renew -in me all that once was good and pure. - -I care for you so much that all this is possible. I will become worthy -of you, if you will only help me. - -Farewell. You are my soul, my life, my religion; I love you. - -JULIETTE. - -Your appreciation of my letters is one of the best proofs of love you -have yet given me. I will set to work to reconstruct them. Nothing has -happened since you left me yesterday, except that my love for you has -increased. - - -(1833.) - -Before reading this letter, look upon me once more with affection. - -My poor friend, I am about to grieve and surprise you greatly. Yet it -has to be done. I no longer have the courage to bear up against your -unjust and suspicious jealousy, and your continued mistrust of a -sentiment as pure and true as that which one cherishes towards God. They -wear me out and make me wretched to the last degree. I would rather -leave you, than expose myself to fresh grief, which might end in -destroying either my reason or my love. This resolve is dictated by the -excess of my affection. Even if you suffer, forgive me, and bless me -before you leave me for ever. I love you. - -J. - - -(1833.) - -Since you insist upon a denial of offences which exist only in your -imagination, I owe it to you to make it comprehensive and without -restriction. It is not true that I have tried to offend you by -reproaches unworthy of yourself and of me. It is not true that I have -ever held any opinion of you, but this one, that I esteem you above all -men. - -The real and irrevocable cause of our estrangement, is the certainty -that your love for me is incomplete. I am more persuaded of it every -day, and particularly to-day, when you have actually told me that you -thought I had misled you as to the state of my affections. - -This is a grave offence towards a woman who has never deceived you on -the subject of her heart, and whose only fault is to love you too much; -for her very excess in this respect, has given her the sad courage to -risk losing your esteem, in order to preserve your love one day longer. - -But I am unwilling to think you intended to hurt me by allowing me to -see the canker in your heart. I prefer to believe that we are equally -the victims of a calamity, under which our only resource, is to separate -from one another. Possibly our wounds will heal when they are no longer -exposed to the continual friction of carping suspicion. - -Good-bye. Forgive me if I have offended you. I am loath to hurt you. - -J. - -I beg you not to attempt to see me again. This is the last sacrifice I -will ask of you.[60] - - -_(June 1833.)_ - -MY DEAR VICTOR, MY BELOVED, - -Do not be anxious! I am as well as a poor woman, who has lost her -happiness and the sole joy of her existence, can expect to be. If I -could let you know my place of refuge without exposing us both, but more -particularly myself, to useless wretchedness, I would do so. Confidence, -the indispensable ingredient in a union such as ours, no longer exists -in your mind. God is my witness that I have never once deceived you in -matters of love, during the past four months. Any concealment I have -been guilty of, has only been with the intention of sparing us both -unnecessary worry, in view of the attitude of mind we have been in -lately. - -I may have been wrong; the purity of my intention must be my excuse. - -[Illustration: CLAIRE PRADIER. - -From an unpublished drawing by Pradier.] - -_9.45 p.m. Saturday, August 13th (1833)._ - -While you are on your travels, dearest, my thoughts follow you in all -love. Though I still feel somewhat sore, I will strive to control -myself, and speak only those gentle words you like to hear. - -It was dear of you to allow me to come to your house.[61] It was far -more than a satisfaction to my curiosity, and I thank you for having -admitted me to the spot where you live, love, and work. Yet, to be -entirely frank with you, my adored, I must tell you that the visit -filled me with sadness and dejection. I realise more than ever, the -depth of the chasm that gapes between your life and mine. It is no fault -of yours, beloved, nor of mine; but so it is. It would be unreasonable -of me to call you to account for more than you are responsible for, yet -I may surely tell you, dearly beloved, that I am the most miserable of -women. - -If you have any pity for me, dear love, you will assist me to rise -superior to the lowly and humble position which tortures my spirit as -well as my body. - -Help me, my good angel, that I may believe in you and in the future. - -I beg and implore you. - -J. - - -(1833.) - -It is not quite six o'clock in the evening. I have just finished copying -the verses you gave me yesterday. I am not very familiar with the forms -of compliment in usage in fashionable society. All I can tell you is -that I wept and admired when I heard you read them, that I wept and -admired when I read them to myself, and that once more I weep and admire -in recalling them. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for having -thought of me when you were writing them. Thank you, my beloved, for the -benign sentiments that inspired you. Your beautiful lines have had the -effect you anticipated, for they have acted both as a cordial and a -sedative to my sick spirit. Thank you! thank you! and again, thank you! -You are not only sublime--you are kind, and, what is better still, you -are indulgent, you who have so much right to be severe. - -I love you. My heart melts in admiration and adoration. There is more -rapture of love in my poor bosom than it is capable of containing. Come -then, and receive the superabundance of my ecstasy. - -If you only knew how I long for you, and desire you! If you knew _more -still_, you would come, I am very sure! Come, come, I beg you, come! You -shall have a kiss for every step, a recompense for every effort, more -smiles, and more joy, than you will encounter fog and cold. - -JULIETTE. - -I am writing this a little later because, before turning to business, I -had to unburthen my heart. I came home yesterday, read your poetry, -dined, did my accounts, and went to bed. I read the newspapers you sent, -went to sleep, dreamed of you, and woke up this morning at 8 o'clock. I -rose almost immediately, did some housework, and mended yesterday's -frock. In the middle of breakfast Lanvin arrived, bringing the -newspapers and a letter from M. Pradier and some of Mademoiselle -Watteville's luggage. He asked whether we should want him to see us off. -He left again at 1 p.m., taking Claire's things with him and some of his -wife's. When he had gone, I washed and did my hair, did the same for -Claire, and at 2.30 I sat down to copy, and now I am writing to you. -This, Colonel, is my report. Are you satisfied? Then, so is the Corporal -of the Guard! After dinner I shall hear the children their lessons, and -count the lines of _Feuilles d'Automne_. - -_After dinner._ - -I have heard the children's lessons, and been obliged to punish your -_protge_, Claire, who is the laziest and idlest of all the pupils. I -have just read your poem to Madame Lanvin; she was deeply moved. The -poor thing understands you, therefore I need not explain that she loves -you. Good-night, until to-morrow, I hope. - -I suppose you did not come to-day because you had arrangements to make -for our journey; that is why I am able to possess my soul in patience. - -J. - - -_Sunday, 4 p.m. (1833)._ - -I have just come in sad and depressed. I suffer, I weep, I wail aloud -and moan under my breath, to God and to you. I long to die, that I might -put an end once and for all, to this misery and disappointment and -sorrow. It really seems as if my happiness had disappeared with the fine -weather. It would be folly to expect to see either again. The season is -too far advanced for fine weather or for happy days. You poor silly, -who wonder that I should deplore so bitterly the loss of one day's -happiness, it is easy to see that you had not to wait for the privilege -of loving and being loved till you were twenty-six years old! You poet, -who wrote _Les Feuilles d'Automne_ in an atmosphere of love, laughter of -children, eyes azure and black, locks brown and gold, happiness in full -measure! You have had no cause to notice how one day of gloom and rain, -like this, can make the greenest of leaves wither and fall to the -ground. You cannot therefore know how twenty-four hours robbed of bliss -can undermine one's self-confidence and strength for the future. It is -evident that you do not, for you wonder when I weep; you are almost -annoyed at my grief. You see, therefore, that you do not realise the -measure of my devotion. Surely I have good reason for regretting that I -love you so ardently, when I see that love uncalled for and unwelcome! -Oh, yes, I love you, it is true! I love you in spite of myself, in spite -of you, in spite of the whole world, in spite of God, in spite even of -the Devil, who mixes himself up in it. - -I love you, I love you, I love you, happy or unhappy, merry or sad. I -love you! Do with me what you will, I still shall love you. - -J. - - -_Monday, 1.50 a.m., 1833._ - -I have been standing at the window all this time, my soul stretched -towards you, my ear attentive to every sound, fearing always lest your -courage should fail you before the end of your weary walk. It is half an -hour since you left; I have listened hard, but no sound has reached me -that could make me apprehend you had not the strength to reach your own -house. I trust that while I am penning these lines, you are already -experiencing the relief that bed and repose will bring to your -suffering. No words of mine can suffice to express to you my regret, my -sorrow, my despair, for what happened to-night. I do not acquit you -altogether of guilt, but I ask you to pardon your own, as well as mine. -Forgive me for having yielded to you after what had passed between us. I -ought to have foreseen what would happen, and what did happen. God -knows, I had resisted as long as I could, and had given way only upon -the solemn promise you made me, never to refer to the stains of my -former life, so long as my conduct towards you should remain honest and -pure. - -The last seven months of my life have been absolutely honest and pure! -Yet, have you kept your word? - -If I were the only one to suffer I should be more resigned, but you are -as unhappy as I; you are as ashamed of the insults you heap upon me, as -I am, of receiving them. - -Now that I perceive fully the canker that lies at the root of our -position, it is my part to arrest the progress of the evil by cutting -out my soul and my life, to preserve what can still be saved of yours -and mine. - -Listen, Victor, I urge you not to refuse me your assistance in carrying -out the plan I think indispensable for the honour of us both. - -If anything can give you courage it must be the knowledge that I have -been faithful to you alone, these seven months. Ah, truly I have never -deceived you! Truly! truly! Yet in the course of these same months, how -many mortifying scenes such as that of to-night have taken place! - -Surely you can see that we must no longer hesitate! I will go away by -the first Saumur omnibus. The health of my little girl can serve as a -pretext. When I am with her, I shall be able to reflect upon my -position, and see what I can do in order to render it tolerable. If, as -probably may be necessary, I were to leave the theatre, the furniture -would cover my debt to Jourdain, and if you were unwilling to be -worried, I could request any man of business to sell it, up to the -amount of my bill to Jourdain, which is the only one for which you are -responsible. - -I shall go abroad. Such as I am, I am still capable of earning my -living, which is all that is necessary. - -But all this is beside the question. The important point is that I ought -to start as soon as possible, to-day even, in order to protect us both -from ourselves. - -Before going, I hope to see you once more, unless your condition should -become worse--which is a horrifying thought when I consider that I am -the cause of it. - -But whether I see you or not, whether you are the victim of my temper or -not, I leave with you all my love and all my happiness. I do not reserve -even hope; I give into your keeping my soul, my thoughts, my life. I -take only with me my body, which you have no cause to regret. - -JULIETTE. - - -(_December 20th, 1833._) - -MY BELOVED VICTOR, - -I have been very unjust to you. You have had cause to call me ungrateful -and unworthy. You will soon hate me--soon also, you will have forgotten -me. I feel it. You see, there can be no thought or sentiment of yours -that I do not understand and apprehend. At this moment, even while I am -writing to you, you are blaming me for suffering. You are annoyed with -me for idolising you with an extravagance which renders me mad and -jealous. You are tired of my love. It cramps you, fatigues you. You -meditate flying from me. My bad luck frightens you; you fear to share it -longer. You dread the responsibility--say, rather, you love me less, -perhaps not at all. Oh, what suffering that fear gives me! My head is -aching. I wish I could die. It must be my fault. I have been wrong to -show you the hideous wound in my heart, the jealousy which lacerates and -destroys it. Yes, I ought to have concealed my sufferings from you. I -ought never to fly into those rages that betray the depth of my love and -grief. - -My Victor, do not leave me! I beg you on my knees, not to be daunted -before a public responsibility. Who has the right to demand from you an -account of the measure of the sacrifices you have made for me? What does -it matter if you are denied the justice you deserve? What matter that -you should be held responsible in part for my troubles? The point to be -considered before all others, is your private relations with me. The -responsibility you must accept is towards me only; it concerns only our -two selves. If you repudiate it, it will kill me, for my whole life is -wrapped up in you and your presence. I breathe only through your lips, -see only with your eyes, live only in your heart. If you withdraw -yourself from me, I must die. - -Reflect! This is not a threat, to keep you near me. I am not -exaggerating the extent to which you are necessary to my very -existence--I am only telling you what I feel. It is the truth, but the -truth under restriction, for I hardly dare acknowledge it in its -entirety, even to myself. _I need you! Only you! I cannot exist without -you._ Think of it. Try to love me enough to accept the charge of my -life, with all its attendant bad luck. - -JULIETTE. - - -_2 a.m., January 1st, 1834._ - -TO THEE, MY VICTOR! - -I dare not say anything. Guess what I am feeling and do with me what you -will! - -I love you ... the memory of what has gone before, and my fears for the -future, prevent me from describing my emotions as freely as formerly. -Forget the past, take the future into your own hands, and I shall regain -the faculty of saying "I love you," as earnestly as I mean it. - -I love you.... JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday morning, 1834._ - -TO MONSIEUR VICTOR HUGO, - -IN TOWN. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1830. - -From Champmartin's picture (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -It is a quarter to one. I have been to your printing-works, numbers 16 -and 19; you had not been seen. I went on to your house; you had not come -in. I wrote you a line; I waited for you.... At last I came home hoping -to find you; but you had not been here. My thanks to you for treating me -like a vagrant dog. You had informed me that you were going to the -printing-works, that you might go back to your house, that you would -certainly go to mine. - -You forgot your promises at once, and you apparently hold my love very -cheap. - -If you, indifferent though you may be, could see me in imagination, as I -sit writing to you, you would be horrified at the condition your -injustice and disdain have reduced me to. - -It is evident that you no longer love me, and that you are only bound to -me by the fear of causing some great calamity if you desert me. It is -indeed grievous that this should be the only sentiment which links you -to me, and I am unwilling to accept a devotion so hollow and -humiliating. I give you back your freedom. From this moment you have no -responsibility towards me, although my heart is broken, although my soul -is still fuller of love than it is able to contain, although my eyes, as -I write, are drenched with bitter tears. I shall still have the courage -necessary to bear my life as it will be, when bereft of happiness and -laughter. - -You have been very cruel to me. I forgive you. Forgive also my tempests -of rage. I am ashamed of them, and thoroughly wretched. I swear to you -by that which I hold most sacred in life, namely my child, that I am -unable to explain how I can have been guilty yesterday of a thing I -utterly disapprove of, and which seems to me the acme of effrontery. I -swear I never saw those men. I am innocent of any crime. I can say no -more. You have crushed me by referring again to my past life, and even -while I am assuring you of my love and repentance, and while I still -hope for a reconciliation, I tremble to feel that you can suspect me so -unjustly. My heart shrinks from the sorrow still in store for it ... my -pen fails me ... - -Farewell! May you enjoy greater tranquillity and happiness than will -fall to my lot. Do not forget that, for a whole year, we were happy -solely by means of our love. - -Good-bye! I have indeed received my full meed of punishment for the -imaginary crime of yesterday. - -Farewell. Think of me without bitterness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 2 a.m. (1834)._ - -I returned from the Place Royale about two hours ago. It was ten o'clock -when I arrived there, and I left at about midnight. I had hoped to bring -you back with me, or, failing to do so, to catch at least a glimpse of -you. I waited patiently all that time, hoping that you would become -aware of my presence, and reward me for it by one glance. But everything -remained dark and gloomy for me, though it was easy to see the lights -through the drawn blinds, and the shadows of many people moving about. - -It will not be the last time, in all probability, that I shall have the -opportunity of seeing that, while I suffer and weep, you make merry. -Forgive me, my Victor, forgive me for this comparison of our respective -lots. It is the last time I shall make it, perhaps even the last time I -shall write to you, for you have said that you will not read any more of -my letters for a long time ... a long time signifies "for ever," for you -will forget me and I shall die. Your love was my whole life. To-night I -feel as miserable as I should be if you no longer loved me. God, how -sorely I need pity! - -I have just obeyed your wishes by putting all your works away carefully. -As for my own relics of you, I have collected them in an English desk, -under lock and key, and hidden them under my bolster, where they shall -always remain. - -Farewell, the performance of this duty has been a mournful satisfaction -to me. - -_Saturday, 6 p.m., 1834._ - -TO THEE, MY BELOVED. - -You promised that as soon as your work was finished, you would devote -all your time to me; you also said, when you were leaving me yesterday, -that you would come early this morning. Neither of these promises have -you kept; yet I have never longed for your presence and your love more -than at this moment, when anxiety seems to have taken up its abode with -me. I have been so worried that I do not know whether I could endure -another day like this. - -I am thankful to leave this house; it is so haunted by ill-luck and -sadness, that to be quit of it will be a relief. - -My Victor, what is going to become of us? What can we do to avert the -misfortune that threatens us?[62] Can you think of any way out of the -trouble? Do you love me? I love you so! in prosperity, and still more in -adversity. Oh, God be merciful to me! Without your help I am done. - -JULIETTE. - -I have no other refuge or I should not go to Madame K. I cannot wander -about alone, for that would make you anxious; yet I cannot stay here, I -am too miserable. I will wait for you at Madame K.'s house until nine -o'clock. I hardly know what I am writing, or have written. My reason and -will are in abeyance this morning. - -I write because I am wretched, because I must make moan to someone or -something. I write because I shall soon be dead. These lines will be the -cold remains of my soul and thoughts and love, as my body will be the -corpse of my warm flesh and blood. - -I write to declare my faith, to obtain pardon of my sins, to weep, -because my tears strangle me and will put an end to me. - -I shall be in the street to-night. I shall remain there as long as my -strength holds out, without hope, but still, near you.... - - -_Midnight, Saturday, August 2nd, 1834._ - -TO VICTOR. - -Farewell for ever. You have decreed it thus. Farewell then, and may you -be as happy and admired as I shall be hapless and forlorn. - -Farewell! This word comprises my whole life, and joy, and happiness. - -JULIETTE. - - -I am going away with my child. I am just going out to fetch her and take -our places. The Comdie Franaise management has no claim on my services -until it has assigned me my parts. My maid has orders to open my -letters. If there should be one from the Comdie Franaise she would let -me know at once and everything could be arranged. I need not, therefore, -worry about it at present. - - -(1834.) - -MADEMOISELLE MARIE, -C/O MADAME DROUET, -No. 4 bis, Rue de Paradis au Marais, Paris. - -Enclosed is a letter for Monsieur Victor Hugo. If he should not come to -the house, try and manage to let him know that there is one awaiting him -at No. 4, Rue de Paradis au Marais, from Madame Kraftt. If he is still -in Paris I expect he will understand what you mean, and will either send -for it or fetch it himself. In any case, write to me by every post and -tell me about Monsieur Victor Hugo: whether you have seen him, what he -has said to you, whether he is still in Paris, or whether he has left; -in fact, tell me everything you can find out concerning him. - -I am writing from Rennes, where I arrived very ill, with my child. I -hope, however, to be able to leave to-morrow and go to my sister. Write -to me there and address thus: - -MADAME DROUET, -C/O M. LOUIS KOCK, -Saint Renan, -By Brest. - -Please take good care of the house. - -J. DROUET. - - - (ENCLOSURE) - -RENNES, -_2.30 p.m., Monday (1834)._ - -MY DEAR VICTOR, - -I am writing this letter on the chance of its reaching you, but with the -sad premonition that you will never read it. - -My beloved, I love you more than ever. I cannot do without you. I would -willingly die for you, but I cannot consent to accept a devotion which -might endanger your health and your life. I was forced to fly from you. -It cost me much to resist your supplications and your wrathful glances. -I suffered frightfully; and now, alas, I know that, were you with me, I -could no longer withstand either your gentle pleading or your terrible -anger. I am very wretched. I love and bless you. Be happy! - -JULIETTE. - - -One portion of your curse has already come to pass. My soul and body -have suffered severely. In addition, I have been harried to death by the -idiotic authorities, who are suspicious of every woman without a -passport. I have been at Rennes about half an hour. It is half-past two. -I leave again for Brest to-morrow morning at four o'clock; I expect to -arrive on Thursday at five in the evening. My Victor, I love you. I -could do anything for you. Have pity upon me. I love you better than -anything in life. - - -_August 5th, 1834._ - -MADEMOISELLE MARIE, -Care of MADAME DROUET, -No. 4 bis, Rue de Paradis au Marais, Paris. - -Here is another letter for Monsieur Victor Hugo. Try to get it to him. -If he is in the country near Paris, let him know that there is something -at my house in the name of Madame Kraftt that will interest him. - -I have spent a sad and sleepless night. I am afraid of falling really -ill. Answer this at once. - -J. DROUET. - - - (ENCLOSURE) - -RENNES, -_4 a.m., August 5th (1834)._ - -Victor, I love you. Victor, I shall die of this separation. I need you, -to be able to live. Since I told you everything, since the moment when -my eyes could no longer rest upon yours, I have felt as if all my veins -were being opened, and my life's blood slowly drained away. I feel -myself dying, and I know that I love you the better for every pang. My -Victor, can you forgive me? Do you still love me? Is it really true that -you hate me, that I am odious in your sight, that you despise me, that -you would grind my face to the pavement if I pressed my lips to your -feet, pleading for forgiveness? Oh, if you still love me, if you still -respect me, if you can forgive everything, only tell me so, and I will -do all you wish! Everything, I swear! Will you take me back? - -I am very ill. - -J. - - -_3 a.m. (1834)._ - -FOR MY VICTOR. - -While I was expecting to see you I could not sleep. Now that the hope is -dead I still cannot sleep because I am unhappy. I grieve not to have -seen you; I grieve because I was cross and ill-tempered when you were -gentle and charming. I rehearse in imagination all the incidents of the -evening, and the pain at my heart grows unbearable. It is wicked of me -to torment you, yet I cannot help myself. My offence goes by the name of -"jealousy." Much as I dread displeasing you, I yet cannot avoid giving -way to that hideous passion. I make you miserable when I should like to -saturate you with happiness. Oh, it is horribly wrong of me! I am much -to be pitied, for I am jealous, and of whom? The most beautiful, the -most gentle, the most perfect of women ... your wife! Heaven forgive me! -My torment is surely sufficient expiation for my fault! - -God, how I love you! how I love my Victor! All is contained in these -words. You do forgive me, do you not? and you love me as much as ever? I -hope so ... else, I should prefer to die. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 3 p.m. (1834)._ - -I have abandoned hope ... yet love remains. I no longer believe that any -happiness is possible for me in the future, but _you_ I love more every -day; better than the first day, better than yesterday, better than this -morning, better than a moment ago; and still I am not happy. - -[Illustration: A PAGE OF JULIETTE DROUET'S NOTE-BOOK IN 1834. - -The note-book belongs to M. Louis Barthou.] - -You remember what I used to say to you when _Marie Tudor_ was in -rehearsal? "Those wretches have robbed me of my self-confidence; I dare -not, cannot rehearse any more; I feel paralysed." - -To-day, it is not a theatrical part that is in question--it is my life. -Now that calumny has crushed me, now that my mode of life has been -condemned without my having a chance of self-defence, now that my health -and reason have been expended in this struggle without profit or glory, -now that I have been held up before the public as a woman without a -future, I dare not, cannot live longer ... this is absolutely true ... I -dare not live. This fear has brought me to the verge of suicide ... a -peculiar suicide. I do not propose to kill myself like other people. I -mean to sever myself from you, and, to me, such a severance signifies -death. Death certainly. I have already made one experiment of the kind, -therefore I am sure. - -I am confirmed in this project by the reflection that you will thereby -be restored to liberty; that you will be free to direct your life and -your genius in the way best suited to your happiness; that I shall no -longer be an obstacle in your path, but an object of pity and -indulgence--pity for what I shall suffer, indulgence and forgiveness for -such of my faults as have made you suffer. - -If the excess of my love and grief should bring me back to your side, do -not notice me ... shut your eyes, stop your ears, remain in your own -house ... thus you may learn to forget, while I ... I ... shall die. I -shall not suffer long. I shall soon be at rest. - -It is raining hard at this moment, and I am in a raging fever. No -matter, I shall go out. I do not know whether you propose coming to -fetch me. If you do not, I cannot tell what time I shall return home. I -don't care, I am mad! I am in torture such as I have never yet endured! -yet I love you even more than I suffer. My love dominates my whole -being. I love you! - -JULIETTE. - - -5.30 (1834). - -You wish me to write to you in your absence. I am always unwilling to -accede to this desire, for when we are separated, my thoughts are so sad -and painful that I should prefer to hide them from you if possible. - -You see, my Victor, this sedentary, solitary life is killing me. I wear -my soul out with longing. My days are spent in a room twelve feet -square. What I desire is not the world, not empty pleasures, but -_liberty_--_liberty_ to act, liberty to employ my time and strength in -household duties. What I want is a respite from suffering, for I endure -a thousand deaths every moment. I ask for life--life like yours, like -other people's. If you cannot understand this, and if I seem foolish or -unjust in your eyes, leave me, do not worry about me any more. I hardly -know what I am writing; my eyes are inflamed, my heart heavy. I want -air, I am suffocating! Oh, Heaven, have pity upon me! What have I done -to deserve such wretchedness? I love you, I adore you, my Victor; have -pity upon me. Kill me with one blow, but do not let me suffer as many -eternities as there are minutes in every one of your absences. - -What am I saying? I am delirious, feverish. Oh God, have mercy on me! - -JULIETTE. - - -_November 4th, 8.30 p.m. (1834)._ - -Yes, you are my support, the stable earth beneath my feet, my hope, my -joy, my happiness, my all! I do not know how these halting words of mine -can be expected to convey my thoughts to your mind, but this indeed is -truly and sincerely meant: that you are to me the noblest, most sincere, -most generous of men. I believe this, and have absolute confidence in -your power to frustrate the evil fate which holds me in its grip. - -My dearly beloved, you were quite charming just now, and you are -perfectly right when you say that there is an element of vanity in your -nobility of conduct; for nothing could be more becoming than the elegant -and dignified manner in which you raised me just now from my knees. You -were really great. You were a king! - -My darling little Toto, _chri!_ I am going to bed now, because I am not -certain that you will come early enough to take me out; and, after all, -you are not the sort of man to be scandalised by finding a woman in bed, -especially ... - -JULIETTE. - - -1834. - -MY DEARLY BELOVED, - -I am always wishing I were a great actress, because, if my soul and -intellect were equal to yours, another link would be forged between us; -but I wish it still more at such a time as this, for I should then be -able to relieve you of the annoyance of being at the mercy of an old -woman, whose conceit has made her aggressive.[63] - -I need not finish this letter, for here you are! - - -1835. - -It is long after 11 o'clock. I am no longer expecting you for a walk, -but I still hope to see you this evening. I write you these few lines as -an apology for the disappointment I feel each time you fail me. I am -miserable, but not angry; I shed tears, but do not reproach you; I am -often much to be pitied, but I never cease loving you to distraction. If -only you would believe this, I think I could bear my invidious position -with more resignation. I am afraid you misapprehend my love, and this -anxiety often makes the days seem long and sad. - -But I must not forget that you are working and worn out, and that you -have neither strength nor leisure to listen, that is to say, to read of -my worries. - - -11.30 _p.m._ - -Here you are! I am finishing this letter more untidily even than usual. -Luckily one's character, and, more important still, one's heart, are not -exclusively interpreted by one's handwriting. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 3.15 p.m._ (1835). - -MY POOR, DEAR, BELOVED TOTO, - -When I see you so preoccupied with important business I am ashamed to -add to your fatigues by the reiteration of my devotion, which you -already know by heart. Did I not fear that you would misunderstand my -silence, I should put an end to these letters, which, after all, are -only a cold skeleton, a dull narrative of the generous, tender, -passionate feelings which fill my heart. I should stop them, I say, -until after the production of your play, reserving to myself the -privilege of taking my revenge afterwards by multiplying my words and -caresses. This is what I should do if you felt only a quarter as much -solicitude for your dear little person as I do. - -It is nearly three o'clock. I hope by this time everything has gone off -well at rehearsal. It is high time, my admired, beloved, adored poet, -you left that wretched den they call the Thtre Franais. You will -leave it with full credit to yourself, notwithstanding the ill-will of -that jealous old wretch, and the stupidity, hatred, and malice of the -cabal against you. - -You will see, my splendid lion, whether those hideous crows will dare -croak in face of your roaring. As for me, if anything could make me -prouder and happier, it would be that I alone understand you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 1.30 p.m., April 11th (1835)._ - -Why were you so smart just now? It makes me dreadfully anxious, -especially in conjunction with your early morning walks to the Arsenal. -Toto ... Toto ... you do not know what I am capable of; take care! I do -not love you for nothing. If you deceived me the least bit in the world -I should kill you. But no, seriously, I am jealous when I see you so -fascinating. I do not feel as reassured as you would wish me to be. In -fact, I insist upon attending these rehearsals. I do not choose to -confide my dear lover to the discretion of nobody knows who. I wish to -keep my lover to myself, in the face of the nation and of all French -actresses. - -That is my politic and literary resolve: I shall put it into execution, -from to-morrow. - -By the way, this is my birthday. You did not even know it--or, rather, I -dare say you do not care whether I was ever born or not. Is it true that -you do not mind one little bit? That is all the importance you attach to -my love! And yet one thing is very certain: that I was created and put -into the world solely to love you, and God knows with what ardour I -fulfil my mission. - -I love you--ah, yes, indeed, I love you--I love my Victor! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 p.m. (1835)._ - -I am more than ever resolved to separate our lives one from the other. -What you say about Mlle. Mars's increasing age and the impossibility of -obtaining a double success through her, literary as well as financial, -and about the necessity of securing the services of Madame Dorval or -some equally handsome and celebrated actress, makes me determined to -sever our connection as speedily as possible, no matter where I may have -to go, or under what pecuniary conditions. Your words to-night prove -that you have had private intelligence about Mlle. Mars, Madame Dorval, -and the theatre generally, that you have concealed from me, although it -must completely revolutionise the plans made by you for the first play -you were to give at this theatre. The secrecy you have maintained on the -subject, contrary to all your promises to conceal nothing from me, -grieves me more than the treachery of Monsieur Harel and Mlle. George, -more even than the wicked animosity of your enemies and the perfidy of -your intimate friends against myself. This silence is proof positive -that I am a hindrance to your interests; you dread my ambition and my -jealousy; you had already seen the propriety of giving a part to Madame -Dorval, but you did not dare tell me so, for fear of encountering -resistance and tears from me at this new distribution. You have only -partially averted these. I will not attempt to thwart you, on the -contrary; as for my tears, they are not worth wiping away, nor even -restraining.[64] From this very night we cease our communion of dramatic -interests. I go back to the position I ought never to have left: that of -a hack actress, who is given any part, and badly paid at that. You -resume your liberty without any impediment. - -Let us hope this new resolution will conduce to our greater happiness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, April 28th, 1835. -Four hours before the production of "Anglo."_ - -This is just to remind you of my love, and that it will only be purified -and augmented by the ill-luck and perfidy to which you are more exposed -than others, my noble poet, my king--king, indeed, of us all, though -lover only of me: is that not so? I have nothing to fear from you, have -I, my darling? You will take care of yourself and resist the advances of -that shameless woman. Promise me this. I would not allude to it to-day, -only I feel so uneasy at the thought of your spending the whole evening -in her society, that I would give my life to prevent it. If you -understood the greatness and quality of my love, you would appreciate my -alarm. - -Think of poor me, sitting at the back of a box to-night, enduring all -the anguish of jealousy and love. - -JULIETTE. - -Madame Pierceau came at one o'clock, leaving Monsieur Verdier in a cab -below. He was desperate at the loss of his stall, which, he hears, was -taken from him by your orders. As I did not know what to say about it, I -advised Madame Pierceau to send him to you. Monsieur Pasquier, as I -anticipated, has not taken Madame Rcamier's box. I wonder what you have -done with it. Did it reach you in time? - - -_Midnight, Tuesday, April 28th, 1835. -An hour after the triumph of "Anglo."_ - -My cup is full. Bravo! bravo!! bravo!!! bravo!!!! bravo!!!!! For the -first time I have been able to applaud you as much as I wished, for you -were not there to prevent it. - -Thank you, my beloved! Thank you for myself, whose happiness you -increase with every second of my life, and thank you also for the crowd -that was there, admiring, listening, and appreciating you. - -[Illustration: AUTOGRAPH LETTER FROM JULIETTE DROUET TO HER DAUGHTER -CLAIRE.] - -[Illustration: AUTOGRAPH LETTER FROM JULIETTE DROUET TO HER DAUGHTER -CLAIRE (_continued_).] - -I saw and heard everything, and will tell you all about it; although if -the applause, enthusiasm, and delirium could be measured by sheer -weight, my load would indeed be heavy. I will give you full details of -the performance, to-morrow, for I dare not hope to see you to-night; it -would be too much happiness for one day, and you do not want me to go -mad with joy! - -Till to-morrow, then. If you knew how conscientiously I clapped Madame -Dorval, you would hesitate to say or do anything to add to the soreness -I already feel at the thought that another than I has been selected to -interpret your noble sentiments. There, now I am giving way to sadness -again, because you are with that woman! - -Good-night, my beloved. Sleep well, my poet, if the sound of the great -chorus of praise does not prevent it. To your laurels I add my tender -caresses and thousands of kisses. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 8 p.m. (1835)._ - -If I were a clever woman, my gorgeous bird, I could describe to you how -you unite in yourself the beauties of form, plumage, and song! I would -tell you that you are the greatest marvel of all ages, and I should only -be speaking the simple truth. But to put all this into suitable words, -my superb one, I should require a voice far more harmonious than that -which is bestowed upon my species--for I am the humble owl that you -mocked at only lately. Therefore, it cannot be. I will not tell you to -what degree you are dazzling and resplendent. I leave that to the birds -of sweet song who, as you know, are none the less beautiful and -appreciative. - -I am content to delegate to them the duty of watching, listening and -admiring, while to myself I reserve the right of loving; this may be -less attractive to the ear, but it is sweeter far to the heart. I love -you, I love you, my Victor; I cannot reiterate it too often; I can never -express it as much as I feel it. - -I recognise _you_ in all the beauty that surrounds me--in form, in -colour, in perfume, in harmonious sound: all of these mean _you_ to me. -You are superior to them all. You are not only the solar spectrum with -the seven luminous colours, but the sun himself, that illumines, warms, -and revivifies the whole world! That is what you are, and I am the lowly -woman who adores you. - -JULIETTE. - - -If you are coming to fetch me, as you led me to expect, I shall see you -very soon now. I have never longed more ardently for you. Lanvin has -just come. I will tell you about it when I see you. - - -_Thursday, 7.30 p.m. (1835)._ - -TO MY DEAR ABSENT ONE. - -I hardly saw you this morning. I have not seen you this evening, and God -knows what time it will be before you come to take me to _Anglo_--for I -do not admit the possibility of a single performance taking place -without my presence: besides, I am not sorry to know exactly how much -time you spend with these actresses of the sixteenth century, and those -of the nineteenth, who are no less dangerous. There, I am nearly as -cross as I am sad. I had vowed I would not write at length to-day, just -to teach you not to throw my letters aside without reading them. -Myself, my letters, forgotten! You certainly manage to be the most -worshipped and the least attentive of lovers. Oh, you do not care! - -Never mind, I am sad. I am longing for you to-night, as the poor -prisoner hungers for his pittance at the hour he is accustomed to -receive it. - -But you are indifferent--you can calmly let my soul die of inanition--do -you not love me, then? Tell me! - -Well, I love _you_. I love you my Victor. I forgive you, because I hope -it is not your fault, and also, because I cannot prevent myself from -loving you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 8 p.m., 1835._ - -You hurt me a little bit just now, my Toto. While I was sacrificing the -happiness of being with you one moment longer, to your need of repose, -you were worrying about trifles, and not giving me a thought or a -farewell. In moments like these I am forced to realise that you do not -care for me as I care for you, and I feel wretched in consequence. - -Another thing I have observed is that you never allude to my letters. -You neither notice the complaints I make nor the love I shower upon you -with every word. You have turned my happiness and content into sadness. -My Toto, _you do not love me as I love you_. You have exhausted your -faculty of loving. I tell myself that the enthusiastic and passionate -devotion you once cherished for me has degenerated into mere -partiality--then I mourn and mope, like a woman betrayed. - -If you knew how I love you, my Toto, you would understand the anguish of -my eagerness, you would pity me, and, instead of leaving my letters -unanswered, you would fly to me the moment you have read them, to -reassure and comfort me if my fears are unfounded. - -Never mind, I give you a thousand kisses. How many will you waste? - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 12.30 p.m. (1835)._ - -MY DEAR LITTLE TOTO, - -You have written me a very charming letter. I cannot send you one as -fascinating; all I can do is to give you my whole heart and thoughts and -life. - -You are quite right when you say that I shall soon give myself to you -again, regardless of the sorrows that may follow. It is true, for I -could sooner dispense with life than with your love. - -But let me tell you again the joy, surprise, and happiness, your letter -caused me. You are better than I, and you are right when you think me an -old idiot. I am in the seventh heaven this morning. You have never given -me so much happiness, my dear little Toto. I am so grateful! I cannot -love you more in return, for that were impossible; but I can appreciate -in a higher degree your worth and the depth of your affection for me. - -You are my dear little man, my lover, my god, my adored tyrant! I love -you, adore you, think of you, desire you, call upon you! - -JULIETTE. - -Which do you like best, quality or quantity? - - -_Monday, 8.20 p.m. (1835)._ - -I adore your jealousy when it gives me the pleasure of seeing you at an -unaccustomed hour; but when it simply consists in suspecting me without -advantage to ourselves, oh, how I detest it! - -You were rather cross to-day, but you atoned so amply by coming as you -did, that I would willingly see you a little bit unjust to me every day, -if it entailed the pleasure of having you one minute longer in the -evening. - -If you only knew how true it is that I love you, you could never be -jealous, or admit the possibility of my being unfaithful to you; and -again, if you knew how much I love you, you would come every moment of -the day and of the night, to surprise me in that occupation, and you -would ever be welcomed with transports of joy. - -Yes, yes, I love you! I do not say so to force you to believe it, but -because I crave to repeat it with every breath, with every word, in -every tone. I adore you much more than you can ever wish. I love you -above all things. - -JULIETTE. - -You attach too little importance to my letters as a rule. You forget -that fine unguents are contained in small boxes, great love in trivial -words. - - -_Friday, 2 p.m. (1835)._ - -You want a huge long letter ... and yet another huge long letter ... you -are not very modest in your requirements. What would you say if I asked -as much?--you, who write to every one in the world except me. I have a -great mind to treat you according to your deserts, and write only as -much as you write, love you only as much as you love me. You would be -nicely punished if I did this. But do not fear; I should never play you -such a scurvy trick. I am too much in need of an outlet for the -superabundance of my heart, to venture to close the issue. I am too -anxious to tell you every day how much I adore you, to condemn myself to -silence. I long too much to get near you, in thought at all events, to -afford to cut off the way of communication. Now that you know why I -write so often, I will begin my letter. - -My dear little Toto, although it is not long since I left you, I desire -you with all the impatience and all the inclination that comes of a long -separation. I should like to know where you are and what you are doing. -I should like to be wherever you are, and, above all, I should like to -be in your heart and thoughts, as you are in mine. I should like to be -you and you me, in respect of love. The rest becomes you and you only. -You are admired; I need to be loved. Are you capable, I ask you, of -loving me as much as I love you, or half as much? even that would be -immeasurable. If you only knew the extent of my love, you would treasure -me, only for that. - -I love you, love you, love you, love you, love you! - -This short little word, issuing from my heart, has impetus enough to -mount right up to the heavens. I love you! - -JULIETTE. - -I have received a letter from my daughter. This, combined with the -horrible weather, makes me quite happy. - - -_Friday, 9 p.m. (1835)._ - -You gave me a delicious afternoon. How delightfully you talked! I am not -alluding to your wit; a fly does not seek to raise an ingot of gold! -Neither do I speak of the happiness of leaning upon your arm, listening -to your voice, gazing into your eyes, breathing your breath, measuring -my steps by yours, feeling my heart beat in unison with yours. - -There can be no happiness greater than that I enjoyed this afternoon -with you, clasped in your arms, your voice mingling with mine, your eyes -in mine, your heart upon my heart, our very souls welded together. For -me, there is no man on this earth but you. The others I perceive only -through your love. I enjoy nothing without you. You are the prism -through which the sunshine, the green landscape, and life itself, appear -to me. That is why I am idle, dejected, and indifferent, when you are -not by my side. I do not know how to employ either my body or my soul, -away from you. I only come to life again in your presence. I need your -kisses upon my lips, your love in my soul. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 11 a.m. (1835)._ - -GOOD MORNING, MY VICTOR! - -Let me first kiss you. Of all the promises I made you yesterday, when we -separated, only one has been broken. I promised to love you as I loved -you at that moment--that is to say, more than all the world; but I do -not know how it happened, I have come to love you much more! and I feel -it will be so as long as I shall live. I beg you, my dear little Toto, -to make up your mind to this, as I have already done. - -Do you know, my blessed Toto, you are a second little Tom Thumb, far -more marvellous than your prototype; for, not merely with pebbles or -crumbs of bread do you mark the roads along which you travel, but -actually with jewels and precious stones. I shall always recognise the -spot where you dropped an enormous ruby as big as a flint, yesterday, -with as much indifference as if it had been a piece of grit from -Fontainebleau. - -What do you suppose must happen to an insignificant creature like myself -in the presence of so much wealth, in the midst of the enchantments of -your mind? Will she lose her reason? That is already done. As to her -heart, you stole it from her very easily, and therefore nothing remains -to the poor wight but what is already yours. - -Her love, her admiration, her life, belong to you! My glances, words, -caresses, kisses, all, are yours! - -JULIETTE. - - -(1835.) - -It seems to be always my turn to write to you now. In the old days your -letters called forth my letters, your love mine--and it was meet that it -should be so, for, as you have often said, the man should be the pursuer -of the woman. It is always awkward when a change of _rles_ occurs, and -I am acutely conscious of it. I feel that a caress from you gives me far -more happiness and security than thousands of those elicited by me. - -It is already half-past eleven and you have not arrived. Perhaps you are -not coming, and the prohibition you laid upon me yesterday against -seeking you at the printing works redoubles my anxiety and jealousy. I -fear lest some untoward thing may have befallen you, or, worse still, -some agreeable invitation reached you. My heart is crushed as in a vice; -I think there is no greater suffering in this world than that of loving -yet fearing. We arrange our lives very badly. Since you are not a free -agent, and may be prevented from seeing me by thousands of circumstances -we cannot foresee, you should at least allow me the opportunity of -knowing what you are doing and where you are. It would satisfy me and -keep me content. Instead of this, I have to wait for you, a prey to -fears that tear at my heartstrings. Alas, I am to be pitied for loving -you so intensely. It is a superabundance that will surely kill the body -which bears it. - -If you love me only moderately, I pray God to deprive me of one of two -things: either my life, or my love. - -JULIETTE. - -Nearly midnight. What a night I have before me! God pity me! - - -AT METZ, -_September 17th, Thursday, 8.15 a.m., 1835._ - -Good-morning, my Toto, good morning. It is magnificently fine, and we -are going to be enormously happy. We are about to resume our bird-life, -our life of love and freedom in the woods. I am enchanted. If only you -were here, I should kiss you with all my might and main, as a reminder. - -What sort of a night did you have? Did you love me? Have you been -writing to me under the old chestnut-tree? I am sure you have not. You -scamp, I am afraid I go on loving you in proportion to the decrease of -your affection. - -I was not able to read last night. I went to bed at a quarter past ten, -and had horrid dreams. I trust they will not come true, but I confess I -should be glad to get news of my poor little girl, whom we neglect far -too much. If two more days go by without a letter, I shall write to -Saumur, for I am really worried about her. - -My dear little Toto, I am going to dress now, so as to get to you -earlier. I love you, I love you with all my strength and all my soul. I -kiss you! I adore you! Till this afternoon. - -Your JULIETTE. - - -AT METZ, -_September 24th, Thursday, 8.45 a.m._ - -Good-morning, my darling Victor. I love you and am happy, for we are -going to be more absolutely together than was possible yesterday, or the -day before, when an inconvenient third disturbed our privacy. Also the -weather is glorious, and I am madly in love with you; so everything -around me glows radiant and beautiful. - -I stayed in bed until 8.30, although I woke up at seven o'clock; but I -just rolled lazily about, thinking of you, and reading yesterday's -newspapers. I reached home exactly at seven o'clock last night, -undressed, tidied my things, dined, wrote to you, did my accounts, and -read _Claude Gueux_ till half-past ten. Then I put my hair into -curl-papers, and got into bed at eleven o'clock. I went to you in -spirit, and dreamt that I was kissing Baby Toto, and making big Toto -jealous. This is the complete history of my morning up to date; now I -shall dress, breakfast, and go for a walk in the meadows with the maid. -Farewell, dearest, until this afternoon's happiness. Always yours in -love and longing. - -I love you with all my heart, I embrace you in spirit, I adore you with -my whole soul, I admire you with every faculty of my mind. Think of me, -come to me, come to me as soon as possible. My arms, my cheek, my whole -being, await you. - -J. - - -AT METZ, -_Thursday, 8.45 p.m._ - -MY DEAR, GOOD TOTO, - -I should have got back without adventure, had I not met an enormous and -horrific toad in the road, which sent me flying home, shrieking as if -the devil was at my heels. I was here by ten minutes past seven, began -my dinner at five minutes past eight, and am now sitting writing to you, -to thank you for all the bliss you lavish upon me. This day, drenched -with rain though it was, has been one of the most beautiful and happiest -of my whole life. If there had been rainbows in the sky, they would be -reflected in our hearts, linking our souls together in thought and -emotion. - -I thank you for drawing my attention to so many lovely things I should -never notice without your assistance and the touch of your dear white -hand upon my brow; but there is one beauty greater and nobler than all -the combined ones of heaven and earth, for the recognition of which I -require no help--and that is yourself, my best beloved, your personality -that I adore, your intellect that enchants and dazzles me. Would that I -possessed the pen of a poet, to describe all I think and feel! But, -alas, I am only a poor woman in love, and such a condition is not -conducive to brilliancy of expression! - -Good-night, my adored one; good-night, my darling. Sleep well. I send -you a thousand kisses. - -J. - - -METZ, -_Monday, 11.5 a.m., September 24th, 1835._ - -Great indeed was our misfortune yesterday! I agree with you in that, my -Victor, because I love you. For over a year I have suffered much; -oftener than not, without complaint. I always trusted that my love and -fidelity would engender in you feelings of esteem and confidence, but -now that hope is for ever at an end; for, far from diminishing, your -suspicion and contempt have grown to terrible dimensions. You love me, I -know, and I worship you with all the strength of my being. _You are the -only man I have ever loved, the only one to whom I have ever given this -assurance._ Yet I now implore you on my knees to let me go. I cannot -urge this too strongly. You see, my dear, I am so wretched, so -humiliated, and I suffer so acutely, that I shall have to leave you, -even against your will; so it would be kinder of you to give your -consent, that I may at least have the sad satisfaction, if I must -forsake you, of knowing that I have not disobeyed you. - -Farewell, my joy; farewell, my life; farewell, my soul! I leave you, -for the very sake of our love--I offer this sacrifice on behalf of us -both. Later, you will understand. But before bidding you a last -good-bye, I swear to you that, during the last year, I have not -committed one single action I need blush for, nor harboured one guilty -thought. I tell you this from the bottom of my heart. You may believe -it. - -I shall go to my child, for I am anxious about her since she has been at -Saumur. Perhaps I may bring her back with me. I think I was very wrong -to send her away. I mean to repair my fault if there is yet time. The -pretext of her health will be sufficient before the world. My heart -shall be dumb upon all that concerns you. I will keep everything to -myself. I must get work. If you can do anything to help me find some, it -will be good of you. I mention this for the first and last time, for, if -you were to forget me, you know very well that I should be the last to -venture to recall myself to you. - -Good-bye again, my friend; good-bye, for ever! I have been copying your -little book, hoping you would be generous enough to leave it with me. -Good-bye! good-bye! Do not suffer, do not weep, do not think, do not -accuse yourself! I love and forgive you. - -JULIETTE. - - -METZ, -_Saturday, 7.30 p.m. (October 1835)._ - -You were in a great hurry to leave me to-night, my best-beloved. If -consideration for me was your motive, it was high-handed and blundering -of you, for I never enjoyed myself more than this evening, and, until -the moment you left me so abruptly, I had never so savoured the -happiness of being with you in the highways and byways. - -I therefore returned home sadly and thoughtfully. I have begun my letter -to-night with diminished joy and confidence in the future, for your -hurry to leave me weighs upon me, and I cannot explain it satisfactorily -to myself. - -I came in at a quarter past six, suffering greatly from indigestion. The -maid told me some one had called for the dog--two gentlemen, who seemed -much attached to it. Poor brute, it was a wrong instinct that led it to -follow us. I have no doubt it is expiating its offence in hunger and -cold at this very moment. I am somehow unduly interested in the fate of -the poor thing. I feel something beyond ordinary pity for it; it makes -me think of the fate and future in store for a poor girl we both know. -She also follows step by step a master who will have no scruple in -casting her adrift when his duty to society proves as pressing and -sacred as that which called him away to-night. - -I am depressed, my dear friend, and unwell. The oppression on my chest -is increasing. I hope your sore throat will diminish in proportion to -what I am enduring. Providence is too just to allow such cumulation of -suffering. Good-night--sleep well and think of me if you can. As for -loving me, that is another question; one's emotions cannot grow to -order. I love you. - -J. - -_Sunday, 8 p.m., 1835._ - -My dear darling, I cannot describe to you the rapture with which I -listened to the two sublime poems you recited to me, one on the first -Revolution and the other on the two Napoleons. - -But where can your equal be found on earth!... My dear little Toto, do -not laugh at me. I feel so many things I cannot express, much less -write. I love and revere you, and when I reflect upon what you are, I -marvel! Since you left me, I have read again _Napoleon the Second_. I -shall never tire of it. It is going to bed with me now. - -You told me to wait for you till 9.30; after that hour I shall go to -bed. If you should happen to come later, I will open the door to you -myself, as you have forgotten the key. I want to do so, that I may not -lose one second of the happiness of having you with me. Sleep -well--good-night--do not suffer--do not work--sleep! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 8.30 p.m., 1835._ - -I am half afraid of taking too literally your request for a daily -letter. Tell me seriously how I am to interpret it, so that I may not -make myself ridiculous, by overwhelming you with letters you do not -want. Tell me the truth once for all, so that I may know where I am, and -may give myself up without restraint to the pleasure of telling you, and -writing to you, that I love you with all my heart, and that you alone -constitute my sole joy, my sole happiness, and my sole future. If you -can experience only one quarter of the bliss in reading, that I shall -feel in inditing my scribble, you shall receive some of my prose every -day, but in limited quantities, calculated not to wear out your -patience. - -And, in order to demonstrate my powers of self-restraint, I will limit -myself to six trillions of kisses for your beautiful mouth. Besides, -here you come! I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 8 p.m., December 2nd, 1835._ - -MY BELOVED, - -When one is ill and feverish, everything tastes bitter to the lips and -palate. I am in that position. I am abominably miserable, and all the -sweet words you lavish upon me seem tainted. But I have enough sense -left to realise that it is my condition that prevents me from relishing -the full meed of happiness you are able to give me in one moment. -Forgive me for suffering, and for not having the strength or generosity -to conceal it from you; it is only because I suffer too much, and love -you too much, which is the same thing. - -I promise to be very cheerful to-night, and to disguise my feelings. I -have read everything concerning you in the papers, and I cannot help -suspecting that a passage about you and your work has been purposely cut -out. If this is so, you had much better tell me, for I am quite equal to -bearing the truth, and even to hearing lies; so I beg you to tell me -what was in that newspaper, and thus spare me the trouble of procuring -another copy. You must indeed be happy and proud on behalf of the person -to whom you are supposed to have dedicated your sublime poem. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO.] - -The article by Monsieur F. Dugu seems singularly well-informed about -your restoration to the _domestic hearth_. I am apparently not the only -one who notices that for the last year you have been changing your -habits and feelings, though I am probably the only one who will die of -grief in consequence--but what matter, so long as the domestic hearth -remains _cheerful_ and the _family_, _happy_. - -I hope you will do your best to come and see me to-morrow, during the -intervals of the performance unless the salutations you have to make, -and the compliments and admiration you must acknowledge should detain -you against your will; in which case I hope I may be brave enough not to -worry about such a trifle, and reasonable enough not to let the -magnitude of my love depend upon so slight a pleasure. - -You see, my dear angel, I bow to the arguments you impress on me. I am -no longer sad, neither do I suffer. I love you; that is the truest word -of all. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 8.45 p.m., December 15th, 1835._ - -Of course, my darling, you did right to come back, whatever your reason -might be; but the pleasure of your visit was quite spoilt by your -inquiry as to how I spend my time, when it is self-evident that my -conduct is irreproachable. - -It may surprise you that I should have borne the inquisition you -habitually subject me to, with less equanimity to-day than usual. I own, -my poor angel, that I do not know why it should be so. Perhaps I am like -the cripple, who feels pain in the leg which has been cut off, long -after he has lost it. I often suffer over my past life, though the -present is so widely different. I suffer, not from variations of -temperature, but from the variations of your love, which seems to grow -daily colder and more gloomy. If I am mistaken, forgive and pity me; but -if, as I fear, I make no error, tell me so frankly, and I shall be -grateful for your sincerity. You see, my poor friend, I cannot believe -that your jealousy is other than an insulting mistrust of us both. I -have watched you carefully for the last six months, and I can see quite -well that, although your love is gradually waning, your supervision -becomes ever more active and more fidgety. If I were absolutely sure of -what I suspect, I should not say this to you--I should go away at once, -and you would never hear of me again; but if by chance I were wrong, and -you still care for me, such a course would entail frightful sorrow upon -us both. Therefore I remain, preferring to incur your hatred and -contempt, rather than run the risk of grieving you. - -There, my poor angel, is the attitude of mind and heart in which you -found me this evening; it will explain why I received your question so -badly, although I was grateful for your presence. You see, my head and -heart are weary. If you are not careful, some calamity, resulting from -this condition, will overtake and crush you, at a moment when neither -you nor I will be able to prevent it. I give you this warning in all -sincerity, but with the intimate conviction that it will not affect you. -As long as you feel I belong to you wholly and entirely, you are as -indifferent to my sufferings as to my happiness. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 8.30, February 3rd, 1836._ - -If I have grieved you, my beloved, I beg you to forgive me, for I know -your position is awkward and demands much consideration, especially from -me. Besides, why should I complain of my mode of life more to-day, than -yesterday? I accept my position without regret; therefore there is no -reason for questioning an arrangement which only you can alter. - -I cannot help noticing that your love is not what it was. I may say I am -sure of it, if I may judge by the impatient words you occasionally -utter, half against your will, and by other signs it would take too long -to commit to paper. I certainly possess a _devoted_ Victor, but no -longer the _lover_ Victor of former days. If it is as I fear, it becomes -your duty to leave me at once; for I have never wished to live with you -otherwise than as an adored mistress--certainly not as a woman dependent -upon a man whose passion is spent. I want no pension. I demand my place -in your heart, apart from any feeling of duty or gratitude. That is what -I desire, as earnestly as I long to be a faithful woman, submissive to -your every whim, whether just or unjust. - -If I have hurt your feelings, my dearly beloved, I plead for pardon from -the bottom of my heart. If you have to acknowledge a decrease in your -love, be brave enough to do so frankly, and do not leave to me the -frightful task of guessing it; but if you care for me as much as ever, -say it again and again, for I doubt it, alas, and, in love, doubt is -more painful a thousand times than the most heartbreaking certainty. -Farewell, I worship you. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 8.15 p.m., February 17th, 1836._ - -You must think me either very cruel or very blind, my beloved. I think, -perhaps, it would be best for you to accept the latter hypothesis. I -love you, which means that I am jealous; but, as my jealousy is in -proportion to my love, my doubts and frenzy are more vivid, more bitter, -than those of ordinary women, who are only capable of an ordinary -affection. Very well--I am cruel! So be it! I detest every woman upon -whom your glances rest. I feel capable of hating all women, young or -old, plain or handsome, if I suspect that they have dared raise their -eyes to your splendid and noble features. I am jealous of the very -pavement upon which you tread, and the air you breathe. The stars and -sun alone are beyond my jealousy, because their radiance can be eclipsed -by one single flash from your eyes. - -I love you as the lioness loves her mate. I love you as a passionate -woman, ready to yield up her life at your slightest gesture. I love you -with the soul and intelligence God has lent His creatures to enable them -to appreciate exceptional men like yourself. That is why, my glorious -Victor, at one and the same moment, I can rage, weep, crawl, or stand -erect; I bow my head and venerate you! - -There are days when one can fix one's gaze upon the sun itself without -being blinded: thus it is with me now. I see you, I am dazzled, -entranced, and I grasp your beauty in all its splendour. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8 p.m., August 15th, 1836._ - -Since you leave me here all by myself, my beloved, I shall think only of -you, and in proof of this, I will scribble all over this virgin sheet -of white paper. It is barbarous of you to let me grow fatter than I -already am, by leaving me to dawdle at my fireside, instead of taking me -out to walk and get thin. - -I am in love with you, but you do not care a bit. I am very sad not to -have you with me, doubly so, when I think that it is on account of a -play in which I am to have no part, after all the time I have waited and -endured. When I reflect seriously upon this, my despair makes me long to -fly to the uttermost ends of the world. It is so necessary that I should -think of my future. I have wasted so much time waiting, that it almost -spells ruin to me that you should produce a piece in which I may not -play. You see, my dearest, I am not as generous as you thought. I am -afraid I can no longer disguise from you the injury it does me to be -three years out of the theatrical world, while you are bringing out -plays. Forgive me, but I have a horror of poverty, and would do anything -in reason to evade it. I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 8.30 p.m., March 11th, 1836._ - -DEAR LITTLE SOUL, - -You are quite happy, I hope, now that you possess the keys of Paradise. -I had a few more difficulties to encounter after you went away, but they -were of no consequence. Now that our little palace is nearly finished, -my soul, I hope we shall celebrate the event in the usual way; but I -must first rest a little, and nurse myself up, for I am really quite -worn out with the dirt and litter. I am afraid to look at you or touch -you in your beauty and purity and charm, while I am so ugly and untidy -and exhausted that I hardly know myself as your Juju. But it will not -last. My foulness will fall from me, and reveal me dressed, as in the -fairy-tale, in garments of blue, bordered with golden stars, and a -prince will marry me after tasting of my cooking. Splendid! But -meanwhile you must graciously permit me to go on loving you, stains and -all! Shut your eyes to the common lamp that guards the flame. If you -will wait, you shall see that when we reach the heaven above us, I shall -be as resplendent as yourself. Meanwhile, I drop a kiss upon your shoes, -even if it entails your having them blacked again. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 7.45 p.m., March 23rd, 1836._ - -No doubt, dear angel, I ought to disguise in your presence the sadness -that overwhelms me when I have to wait too long for you; but the late -hour at which you generally come, makes it difficult for me to forget -the weary suspense I have already been through, and am to endure again -shortly. I love you, my dear--indeed, I love you too much. We often say -this lightly, but I assure you that this time I state it in full gravity -and knowledge, for I feel it to the very marrow of my bones. I love you. -I am jealous. I hate being poor and devoid of talent, for I fear that -these deficiencies will cost me your love. Still, I am conscious of -something within me, greater than either wealth or intellect; but is it -powerful enough to rivet you to me for ever? I ask myself this question -night and day, and you are not at hand to soothe my unrest; hence the -sadness that wounds you, the jealousy that amazes you, the mental -torment you are incapable of understanding. - -But I love you all the same, and am happy in the midst of my pain. I -smile through my tears, for I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 a.m., March 26th, 1836._ - -Good-morning, my little darling Toto. - -I am up at cock-crow, though very tired; but I want to be ready to -witness your new triumph--for, beloved Toto of mine, you are the _great_ -Toto, the greatest man on earth. - -How I love you, my Victor! I am jealous. Even your success makes me -uneasy with the dread that, amongst so much adulation, you may overlook -the humble homage of your poor Juju. I fear that these universal -acclamations may drown my lowly cry of--_I love you!_ This apprehension -becomes an obsession on such a day as this, when everything is at your -feet, caresses, adoration, frenzy. Ah, why are you not insignificant and -unknown like myself! I should then have no need to fear that the torch -of my love will be eclipsed by that immense illumination. - -Try, beloved, to keep a little place in your heart for the love and -admiration of your poor mistress, who has loved you from the day she -first set eyes upon you, and who will worship you as long as the breath -remains in her body. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 6.15 p.m., March 26th, 1836._ - -Let me tell you once again that I love you, my Victor. Presently, -thousands of voices will be raised in a chorus of _praise_. I alone -say: I _love_ you. You are my joy, the light of my eyes, the treasure of -my life, you are _YOU_. This evening, my adored one, whatever you say or -do, I must be jealous and wretched. Be merciful to me; do not let me -suffer too cruelly. If you think of me when you are absent, I shall be -conscious of it--if you love me, I shall feel it upon my heart like -beneficent balm upon a raw wound. - -Farewell, dear soul; _it is impossible to wish an increase of beauty to -the man, or more glory to the genius; so, if you are happy, so am I_. -Farewell, then, dearest; I cannot refrain from sending a word of love to -the lover, before going to applaud the poet. The heart must have its due -share. - -Good-bye till later. For ever, for life and until death, love, nothing -but love! - -J. - - -Sunday, 7.45 p.m., March 27th, 1836. - -I hardly dare speak to you to-night of love. I feel humiliated by my -devotion, for all those women seem to be rivals, preferred before me. I -suffer, but I do not hold you responsible. I feel worse even than usual -this evening. I did not venture to ask what you had written to Madame -Dorval, for I was afraid to discover some fresh reason for bitterness -and jealousy; so I remained silent. - -My dear treasure, you are very lucky not to be jealous: you have no -competition to fear with any other celebrity, for there is none besides -yourself, and _you_ know that I love you with my whole heart, whereas -all _I_ can be sure of is, that I love you far too much to hope to be -loved in proportion. In addition, I feel I shall never be capable of -raising the heavy stone under which my intellect slumbers. - -Forgive me, I am sad. I am worse than sad--I am ashamed, because I am -jealous. I am an idiot, and consequently, I am in love! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8.30 p.m., April 14th, 1836._ - -I love you, my dear Victor, and you make me very unhappy when you seem -to doubt it. It is still harder for me when you put your want of -confidence into words, for I can only attribute it to the sacrifices you -constantly make for me, and which probably cause you to think that an -ignoble motive constrains me to remain under your protection. In -addition to thus wounding me in the most sensitive part of my love, you -exasperate me to a point I cannot describe, because it is true that I -have not the wherewithal to live independently of you and your -influence. Therefore, my poor angel, when you show your suspicions of my -sincerity, I read into them more than jealousy and ill-will: I imagine a -reproach against my dependent position. I feel an overwhelming need to -prove to you, by any means, that you are mistaken in the woman and her -love. _Remember your burnt letters!_ You know what a doubt on your part -led me to do on one occasion. Well, angel, I tell you honestly that when -you question, not only my fidelity, but also my love, I long to fly to -the other side of the world, there to exist as best I can, and never -pronounce your name again for the rest of my life. This will be the last -proof of love I can give you, and at least you will not be able to -accuse me, then, of self-interest and self-love. You hurt me terribly -to-night; you often do, and generally when I am most tender and -demonstrative towards you. - -Yet I love you. - -J. - - -_Tuesday, 8 p.m., April 19th, 1836._ - -Beloved, I am perfectly certain you will not come to fetch me to see -_Lucrce_, and I am already resigned. There is only one thing I shall -never submit to, and that is, the loss of your love. I know you are -devoted, that you lavish friendship upon me; but I feel that you have no -more love to give me, and I cannot bear it. During the four months I -have been alone, ill for the most part, I never knew whether the time -would come when you would be impelled to say to me: _Take courage, for I -love you_. I would have given life to find those words in your -handwriting at my bedside in the morning, or on my pillow at night. I -waited in vain, they never came; my sorrow grew, and now I am certain -that you have ceased to care for me. - -I know what you will say, Victor--you will tell me that you are hard at -work, that you do everything for me, and do not let me want for -anything. To that I reply that I have been just as busy or busier than -you, yet have always found time to show you the outward signs of my -inward love. I may also tell you that, without your love, I _do_ want -for _everything_, and that my life is utterly wretched without it. -Lastly, I declare to you that if you continue to be so _reasonably_ kind -and attentive, I will release you from your self-imposed burden, at some -moment when you least expect it, and for evermore. I must have true -love or nothing. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 7.45 p.m., May 2nd, 1836._ - -MY DEAR LITTLE BELOVED, - -I am sorry to find that you are not as convinced as I am, of the -propriety of giving me your portrait. - -I confess I feel the greatest disappointment when I realise, from your -daily evasion of my request, that I shall probably never become the -possessor of the picture which is so like you, nor even, perhaps, of a -copy of the original. I am sad and dejected. I think you do not care -enough for me, a poor disinherited creature, to do me the favour you -have already bestowed upon another, who already has her full meed of the -gifts of life. I am therefore greatly disappointed. I had counted upon -having the portrait, and had anticipated much happiness from its -possession. The contemplation of it would have so greatly contributed to -my courage and resignation, that it is very grievous to have to renounce -it thus suddenly, without any compensation. - -If I wanted to speak of other things now, I could not; my heart is -heavy, my eyes overflow with tears. I can only find bitter words for the -expression of my wounded love. - -I love you more to-day than I have ever done before, yet I am not happy. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 7.45 a.m., May 20th, 1836._ - -GOOD MORNING, MY DEAR LITTLE TOTO. - -You failed me again last night, so I shall never count upon you again. I -loved you with all my strength, and thought of you even in my sleep. -This morning I love you with my whole soul, and heartily long for you, -but I know you will not come, so I am cross and sad. - -How fine the weather is, my Toto, and how happy we could be in the fresh -air, on the high road, in a nice little carriage, with a month of -happiness in prospect: it would be Paradise, but ... but ... I dare not -set my heart upon it, for I should go crazy with grief if the treat were -withheld. At all events, I am ready to start; my foot is well again, and -we can set off to-night, or to-morrow morning, at whatever time suits -you. I am quite ready, let us, therefore, seize our chance of the fine -weather. - -My adored one, I am dying to make this expedition.... Do try to get free -at the earliest moment possible. I shall be so happy. I still love you, -ever so much. I need you terribly. My heart is more than ready for the -happiness you will give me during the whole time we shall be together. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 12.45 p.m., July 21st, 1836._ - -Once more I am reduced to writing all that is in my heart, my adored -one. It is but a slender satisfaction after the bliss we have been -enjoying. Nevertheless, we must take life as we find it, and it would be -ungracious of me to complain. A month like the one we have just spent -would compensate for a whole life-time of misfortune and worry. Poor -angel, since you left me I feel lost and alone in the world. You cannot -imagine the utter void, surrounded as you are at this moment by the -affection of charming children and devoted friends, while I am alone -with my love--that is to say alone in space--for my love has no limits. -I seek what consolation I can, by speaking to you, and writing to you. -Your handkerchief, breathing of you, lies by my side, with your adored -name embroidered in the corner. I caress and talk to it, and we -understand each other perfectly. For every kiss I press upon it, it -exhales your sweet aroma; it is as if I scented your very soul. Then I -weep, as one does in a beautiful dream from which one fears to awake. -Heavens, how I love you! You are my life, my joy! I adore you! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 2.15 p.m., September 2nd, 1836._ - -My poor, beloved angel. The nearer the moment approaches, the more I -dread the inevitable parting which must follow the few days of happiness -you have just given me. I long for delay, but I know very well that, -however Providence may interpose in my favour, the day must come when -you will have to go to St. Prix. Lucky for me if it is not to-day. But, -putting aside all considerations of love and Juju, it would really not -be prudent for you to go to the country in this cold, foggy weather; -even this morning, in the warmth and repose of home, you felt a warning -twinge of rheumatism, which prescribes prudence on your part. I fear -your natural desire to kiss Toto on his donkey, and watch the other -little rogues at their holiday occupations, may draw you, in spite of -rain, wind, and the good counsel of your old Juju, to St. Prix. At any -rate, if you do this foolish thing, try to avoid chills, to think of me, -and to come back to my care and caresses as quickly as possible. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 6 p.m., 29th, 1836._ - -You torment me unjustly, as usual, my darling beloved. Yet you ought to -begin to know me, and not suspect my every action, down to the drinking -of a cup of coffee. The awkwardness of my position, the absolute -solitude in which I am compelled to live, and the many insults I have to -tolerate daily from you, exasperate me so, that I feel I would rather go -out of your life, than continue to exist like a woman condemned and -accursed. - -It is your fault that I am so unhappy. Nobody else will ever love you so -well, or be so entirely devoted to you. But one is not bound to put up -with impossibilities, and I cannot live longer under a yoke which you -make more crushing every day. What am I to do, beloved? Run away from -you? I have scarcely enough money for my quiet Paris _routine_. Remain -here? If you have not the courage to abstain from visiting me, I -certainly shall never have enough to prevent you from coming. - -The wound in my heart is raw and bleeding, thanks to the care you take -to keep it in that condition. The slightest additional twinge becomes -unbearable torture. I do not know what moral operation I would not -consent to, to be cured of it. - -For the last three years you have really given me too much pain. I -implore you, from the bottom of my heart, to be less offensive with me, -or else to leave me for good and all. You may guess from this what I am -enduring. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 2 p.m., January 1st, 1837._ - -Your darling, adorable letter has reached me. I have devoured it with -caresses. Oh, how I love you! I have just sent my child out of the room, -so that I might read it on my knees in front of your picture. These -little pranks may seem foolish, but they contain a deeper, more sacred -significance, like the devotion that inspires them. - -When you come, you will find me joyous and radiant, as I was on that -glorious day when you first revealed your love. My beloved, my heart, I -am very happy. I am in heaven, for you love me, my Toto ... your dear -letter has said it. Your eyes, your mouth, your soul, will tell me so -still better, presently. Yes, indeed I am happy, I am surfeited. There -is nothing left for me to desire or require--I have your love, a love -which God Himself might envy were He a _woman_. - -Thank you, adored one, thank you from my heart and soul. I am as good as -gold, believe me. - -JUJU. - - -_Tuesday, 7.30 p.m., February 21st, 1837._ - -Do not grieve, my precious, do not lament. I will not attempt -consolation, for you have better and more efficacious resources within -your own self; but I share your affliction. Whatever saddens you -saddens me: where you love, I love; when you mourn, I mourn. If I -conjure you not to give way to your grief, it is not because I hesitate -to bear my portion of it, but because I believe that your poor brother -himself would not now desire a return to this life.[65] I look upon his -death more as a blessing than a misfortune. Poor brother! - -I love you, my adored Victor. In moments such as these, when sorrow -brings you nearer to my level, I feel that my affection for you is -absolutely true and purified from all dross. Try to come early this -evening. I will lavish caresses upon you silently, with my eyes and my -innermost self, without worrying you. You shall rest by my fireside, and -lean your dear head upon my shoulder, and read, and I shall be glad. - -I am jealous of that woman who has dared to _steal_ your verses; such -things are not _lost_. It was a two-fold wickedness on her part, for she -caused _you_ the trouble of rewriting them, and _me_ the torment of -jealousy. I will not have you see her again, ever! Do you hear? - -Oh, I love you, I love you far too much. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 7.15 p.m., April 2nd, 1837._ - -[Illustration: CARICATURE OF MLLE. GEORGE, BY VICTOR HUGO. - -Victor Hugo Museum.] - -[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF VICTOR HUGO BY HIMSELF.] - -I have decided to get up, after all, thanks to the laundry-man; but for -him, I should have remained in bed, nursing my depression. I am sad -beyond everything, yet I cannot tell why--you are kind and affectionate, -and I love you with my whole soul; but that does not seem enough. -Esteem, the keystone of happiness, is lacking. I have worn myself out in -the endeavour to gain it during the last four years, yet it cometh not, -nor ever will come, now. I must turn my efforts in another direction. I -must try to break with you, tactfully, as you say, by quitting Paris, -and perhaps France. Will that be sufficient to stop the tongue of -scandal? I wish to leave you before you abandon me, because I do not -admit your right to inflict such a fearful blow upon me. There are -people, capable of committing suicide, who yet recoil at the thought of -being murdered--I am one. I can and will kill myself, but I shrink from -the injury you might possibly inflict upon me before long. My courage -does not outstrip your cruelty. I love you too much for happiness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 10.15 a.m., May 2nd, 1837._ - -Good morning, my well-beloved. Did you have a good night? You looked -overstrained and tired yesterday, and indeed there was enough to make -you so, you poor dear. I do not know how you can put up with it all. -Forgive me for adding to your burthen the exactions of a woman who -loves, and fears to recognise in lassitude an evidence of coldness. -Forgive me; if I did not occasionally doubt your love I should torment -you less, and would show more consideration for your occupations and -repose. - -You hurt me very much last night by speaking as you did, yet I wanted to -know your true opinion of me. I have long been tormented by a mournful -curiosity on that point. Last night you satisfied it in full. I know -now that you pity without despising me. I accept your compassion, for I -need it, and ought to have it; but I should indignantly repudiate a -contempt I do not deserve. My past history is sad, but not disgraceful. -My life until I met you was the melancholy outcome of a poor girl's -first fault; but at least it was never soiled by those hideous vices -that deface the soul still more than the body. Even at the worst moments -of my trouble, I cherished within me an inner sanctuary, whither I could -betake myself, as to some hallowed spot. Since then, that sanctuary has -been open to you only, and you can testify whether you have found it -worthy of you; you know whether, since you have occupied its throne and -altar, I have ever failed, one single day or minute, to prostrate myself -on my knees before you in adoration, or have ever turned my gaze or my -soul away from you. This proves, my beloved, that my former backsliding -was only superficial, not inherently vicious; that my wound was -accidental, not a loathsome, devouring canker; that I love you now, and -am thereby made whole. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 10.45 a.m., May 2nd, 1837._ - -I am following up my letter immediately with another, because I am -alone, and the moment is propitious for me to open my heart to you from -the very bottom. Racket and pleasure are a hindrance to meditation, and -at this moment I am rapt in contemplation of you and your beloved image. -I see you as you are, that is to say, a God-made man to redeem and -rescue me from the infamous life to which I had so long been enslaved. -What Christ did for the world you have done for me: like Him, you saved -my soul at the expense of your repose and life. May you be as blessed -for this generous action as you are adored by me for it. I should have -loved you, devil or angel, bad or good, selfish or devoted, cruel or -generous--I must have loved you, for at the mere sight of you my whole -being cries out: _I love you!_ Would that I might proclaim it on my -knees, with hands clasped and heart on lips: _I love you! I love you!_ -The talk we had last night kept me from sleeping, but I do not complain; -there are moments when sleep is a misfortune. I needed to rehearse one -by one all your words, to collect carefully those which must remain for -ever enshrined in my bosom as treasures of consolation and love; the -less generous ones you uttered, I have consumed in the flame of my soul; -nothing remains of them but ashes, dead as the ashes of my past. - -Do not turn away in disgust from the scratches I have sustained in -falling from my pedestal, as you might from hideous and incurable -wounds. I repeat again, my beloved, because it is the truth: misfortune -there has been in my life, but neither debauchery nor moral turpitude. -Henceforth there can be nothing but a sacred, pure love for you. I am -worthy of pardon and affection. Love me; I crave it of you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 11.15 a.m., May 11th, 1837._ - -Good morning, my dear little man; I have bad weather to announce: rain, -snow, hail, wind, and, in addition, an abominable cold in my head which -does not help to resign me to a day already filled with clouds. I love -you--do you know that? and I admire you for your beautiful soul. It is -splendid of you, my great Toto, to have raised your voice so powerfully -in defence of the poor, dead King.[66] You alone had the right, for you -only are above suspicion; you only are influential enough to compel the -impious, pitiless world to listen to your indulgent and religious voice. -If it were possible for me to love you more, I should do so for this; -but from the first day I saw you I have given my whole heart and -thoughts and soul unreservedly into your keeping. - -How I love you, my adored Victor, how I love you! In that short and -much-misused word is contained all my soul, all the bloom of a devotion -that has opened out under the sun of your gaze. Good-bye, my own. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 8.30 p.m., June 2nd, 1837._ - -MY LITTLE MAN, - -You must make up your mind to take my love or leave it. Compare my life -with yours, and see whether I do not deserve that you should pity and -love me with all your might. I am all alone, I have neither family nor -fame, nor the thousand and one distractions that surround you. As I say, -I am alone, always alone; it even seems probable that I shall not see -you to-night, while you will be spending your evening in feasting, -talking, and visiting your uncle, whom may the devil fly away with. -Everybody can get you except me; the exception is flattering and well -chosen. I am so unhappy that I am going to bed and shall probably cry my -eyes out--I am more inclined for that than for laughing. If you succeed -in cheering me up to-night, I shall know you for a great man, and a -still greater sorcerer; but you will not attempt it. I may be as sad and -miserable as I like, and I am certain you will never interfere. - -Good-night, Toto; I am going to bed. Good-night, be happy and gay and -content; your poor Juju will be unhappy enough for both. I love you, -Toto. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 1.30 p.m., June 10th._ - -I love you before all things, and after all things. I love you, love -you, love you! I have just written to Mother Pierceau that I shall send -Suzanne to her to-morrow. I forgot to ask you exactly how much money you -brought me yesterday, and also for cash, for yesterday's expenses. I -will do so to-night. I try hard to keep my accounts accurately, yet I am -always in a muddle at the end of the month, and always either above or -below what I ought to have. I do my best, but nothing seems to bring my -sums out right. - -I think there is going to be a big storm. The sky is lowering like -yesterday, and the weather still more oppressive. Try not to get wet, -and come and fetch your umbrella before it begins to pour. - -What a delightful afternoon we spent yesterday! I wish we could have it -over again, even if we had to be soaked to the skin. I shall never -forget the Bassin du Titan.[67] The pretty turtledove that came to -slake its thirst in it seemed to recognise us, and wait for its drink, -until you scattered drops of poetry into the mossy, flowery grooves, -surrounding its edges. - -Heavens! what precious pearls you squandered yesterday in that -magnificent garden, at the feet of those peerless goddesses, which seem -to come to life when your glance rests upon them--what flowers upon -those lawns, peopled with joyous children! How all those gods and -goddesses, heroes, kings, queens, women, nymphs, and children, must have -quarrelled over the treasure you lavished upon them! I was sorry to go -away. I should have liked to go back in the moonlight and gather up all -those jewels upon which you set so little store. Oh, I must return there -very soon, and we will at the same time revisit our Metz, where we have -enjoyed so much bliss. That journey will bring us happiness, and I long -to make it. I love you, my great Toto. Forgive this scribble; it looks -absurd now, and indeed it must needs be so, for I was inebriated with -love when I wrote it. My thoughts stagger and fall upon the paper, -because they have drunk too deeply of my soul, and know not where they -are. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 3.45 p.m., July 27th, 1837._ - -I must contribute my scribble in acknowledgment for the delightful lines -you have just written in my little book.[68] My voice will sound like -the cackle of a hen after the song of a nightingale; but that is the law -of nature, so I do not see why I should be silent, because I have heard -you. It was rash of you, my dear little man, to put down the date you -suppose was that of my birth; but, as I am too honest to contradict you, -I accept it and affirm that, since those days when you were a little boy -studying _Quintus Curtius_, you have developed, and far outstripped all -those you revered and admired when you were an urchin of seven--while I -have remained the poor, uncultured girl you know. It is pretty certain -that education could have added but little to my barren nature; the -weeds of the sea-shore do not gain much from cultivation. On that point, -thank Heaven, I have nothing to complain of. No one worried much about -me until you appeared upon the scene; but you came, my great and sublime -poet, and you did not disdain to cull the little scentless flower -prinking itself at your feet, to attract the sunshine of your glance. I -bless you for your goodness. I know that a father and mother look down -upon you from the realms above, and love you for the happiness you have -given to the poor little daughter they left solitary on earth. I weep as -I write, for it is the first time I have really looked into my innocent -past, and my loving heart. I bless you, my generous man, on earth, as -you will be blest in heaven. May all those dear to you participate in -this benediction, and in the joys and riches of this world and the next! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 9 a.m., September 21st, 1837._ - -GOOD MORNING, MY BELOVED. - -The anniversary of our return to Paris has been sadder still than the -day itself, since you have not been with me at all, either last night -or this morning. I am upset in consequence. I have not yet taken off my -nightcap. I am cross. Shall you be at Auteuil all day? What a -disappointment for poor Juju, not to speak of Claire, who has to take -her chance of my temper when I am cross, and that idiot Madame Gurard, -who has put me to the expense of a stamp merely to say that she thinks -she is getting fat, and that she wishes you good morning. How thrilling! - -I love you, dearest Toto; I love you too much, for I am miserable when -you are away. I wish I could care comfortably, like you, for instance, -who feel neither better nor worse, whether I am near or far. You are -always the same; love never makes you miss the point of a joke, or a -hearty laugh, nor fail to notice a grey cloud, the Great Bear, a frog, a -sunset, the earth, water, gale, or zephyr. You see everything, enjoy -everything, without a thought for poor old Juju, who is being bored to -desperation in her solitary corner. Which of us two is the best lover, -eh? Answer that it is I, Juju, and you will be speaking the truth. Yes, -I love you. Try not to stay away from me all day. Love me for being sad -in your absence. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 6.30 p.m., September 23rd, 1837._ - -You are making yourself more and more of a rarity, my beautiful star, so -that I become chilled, and gloomy as an antique, moss-grown statue, -abandoned in the wilds of some deserted garden. I am not angry with you, -but I do wish you were less busy and more lover-like. You have quickly -resumed your fine Paris appearance, my beloved little man, whilst I -still cling to my travelling disguise. You ought surely to have waited -for me to take the initiative, if only for the sake of manners. Whom are -you so anxious to please, my bright boy? Who is the favoured one you -aspire to put in my place? In any case, I warn you that I shall not be -sly like Granier,[69] but that I shall fall upon your respective -carcases with frank blows of a cudgel, mind that! Now you may go in -search of your charmer, if you are prepared to see your bones ground to -powder for my use. - -If you come early this evening I shall be so happy, so cheery, so -content and good, that you will never wish to leave me again; but, if -you delay, I shall be exactly the reverse, and you will have to coax and -love me with all your might to comfort me. - -You are letting your letter-box get over-full again. Toto, Toto, I shall -make a bonfire of its contents if you do not come quick and secure them. -Mind what you are about! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 12.45 p.m., November 22nd, 1837._ - -I really believe you do it on purpose; but you may be certain that I -shall pay you back in the same kind: indifference for indifference; -_donnant donnant_ is my motto. - -Now let us talk of other things. What do you think of the taking of -Constantine? I cannot believe the present Ministry will survive long as -at present constituted; Thiers and Barot may be called upon at any -moment to form a new cabinet. What is your opinion? The commercial -crisis is still making itself felt in the markets; oils of every -description have gone down; for instance, rape oil which was at 47 is -now only at 45. A recovery is looked for next year, but I have my doubts -about it, haven't you?[70] - - * * * * * - -Do you not agree with me that all this points to a revolution in the -near future, which will entail sinister results for Wailly's Government? -For my part, I view with consternation the removal of the Carlists from -St. Jean Pied de Port to Paimb[oe]uf, after a sojourn at St. Mnhould. -I am already sick of the recital of the horrors which disturb the -digestion and the tranquillity of the citizens, of whom you are the -chief ornament. Pray accept the expression of my distinguished -consideration. - -JULIETTE. - - -_December 5th, 5 p.m., 1837._ - -How kind you are, my Toto, to have come and relieved the suspense I was -in as to what had happened in Court.[71] Heavens, how well you spoke! I -was so moved and so convinced while I listened, that I forgot even to -admire you, yet I have never known you finer or more eloquent. Why must -the case be adjourned for a week? Is it to allow time for intrigues -against the incorruptible consciences of my lords the judges? I should -have given worlds for the verdict to have been delivered to-day; first -because it would relieve you of an anxiety as annoying as it is -fatiguing, secondly because I myself crave repose, and since this devil -of a lawsuit has come on the scene I cannot sleep at night, and lastly -because I shall then see you oftener, or at least so I hope. - -While I was waiting for you just now I copied a few passages from the -letters of Mdlle. de Lespinasse about the C. D.[72] and the S.[73] of -her period. Her opinions then, fit our own times absolutely: the same -absurdities, the same platitudes, and the same petty triumphs! It would -be pitiable were it not so grotesque. Nothing seems to have altered in -the last sixty years; there are the identical _bourgeois_ in the -identical Rue Saint Denis, the same men and women of the world--nothing -is missing. They have not grown old, they are still in good health. -Stupidity and bad taste are the best agents for the maintenance of -society in all its pristine foolishness. Here am I drivelling on just as -if I knew what I was talking about. It would be a nice set-out if I -attempted to write! I might just as well present myself as a candidate -for the Senate. Please forgive me. Your lawsuit is the cause of my -chatter, but I will not transgress again. I love you far too much to go -out of my way to make a fool of myself. - -JULIETTE. - - - RECEIPTS FOR THE MONTH OF DECEMBER 1837 - - Dec. Frs. Sous. Liards. - - Cash in hand 4 0 3 - 1. Money earned by my Toto 51 4 0 - 4. Cash from my darling 5 10 0 - 6. Money earned by my dear one 44 0 0 - 9. Cash from my Toto's purse 10 0 0 - 12. " " " " " 5 0 0 - 13. " " " " " 7 0 0 - 14. Money earned by my darling 45 0 0 - 17. Cash from my adored one 10 2 0 - 18. " " " " " 4 2 0 - 19. Money earned by my beloved 60 0 0 - 22. Cash from my Toto 2 0 0 - 24. " " " " 10 0 0 - 26. " " " " 3 0 0 - 28. Money earned by my Toto 102 12 0 - 30. Money earned by my darling 100 9 0 - _Plus_ the money for - the earring and ring 2 0 0 - ------------------ - Total 466 19 3 - - EXPENDITURE FOR THE MONTH OF DECEMBER 1837 - - Frs. Sous. Liards. - Food and wine 99 2 3 - Coal 1 1 0 - Lighting 21 6 0 - Household expenses and postage 16 0 0 - Baths, illness 8 1 0-1/2 - General expenditure 29 8 0 - Incidental expenses and pocket-money 5 8 0-1/2 - Dress 41 5 0 - Incidental expenses and pocket-money 5 8 0-1/2 - Dress 41 5 0 - Washing 16 5 0 - Debts and pawnbroker 151 6 0-1/2 - Wages 20 13 0 - To the Lanvins 4 2 0-1/2 - ----------------------- - Total 413 19 5 - Cash in hand 53 0 0 - - ----------------------- - 466 19 5[74] - -To Toto: 9 luncheons. - -Dinners to 10 persons. - -In all, about 19. - - -_Sunday, 1.45 p.m., January 21st, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my dear one, good-morning, my big Toto. How did you manage -to fit into your bed? You must have curled yourself up into five or six -hundred curves. One grows at such a pace in the space of an evening like -last night[75] that you must have become gigantic by this morning, -though you were already greater than any one else in the world. I have -grown, too, for my love equals your beauty, equals the praises and -admiration lavished upon you; so, unless one is prepared to state, -against all logic, that the container is smaller than the contents, I -must have grown and even surpassed you--without vanity. Love exalts as -much as glory does, and I love you more than you are great. Yes my Toto, -yes my dear Victor, I dare affirm it because it is true. I love you more -than you are great. - -How did you spend the night, adored one? I hope you did not work, tired -out as you were, and in that horrible little icehouse. I cannot think -of that room without shivering from head to foot. I shall be very glad -when I hear that it is closed and warmed. Unfortunately that does not -promise to be soon, and meanwhile you suffer and freeze, and I torment -myself about you. - -I adore you, my beloved Toto. I would die for you if you would promise -always to think lovingly of me; even without that condition I adore you, -my Victor. - -JULIETTE. - -_Sunday, 5.45 p.m., January 21st, 1838._ - -Must it always be my lot to wait, dearly beloved? I thought I had given -proofs sufficient of courage and resignation all this time, to have -earned my reward now. Of course I know you must have had the whole of -Paris in your house to-day, but if you cared for me as I do for you, you -would leave all Paris, and the world itself, for me. What good is the -back door, if not to enable you to evade importunate people, and fly to -the poor love who awaits you with so much longing and affection? Why -carry _four keys_ in your pocket, like the gaoler in a comic opera, if -you do not make use of them on the proper occasion? I am very sad, my -Toto. I do not think you care for me any more. You are as splendidly -kind and generous as ever, but you are no longer the ardent lover of old -days. It is quite true although you will not admit it out of compassion -for me. I am very unhappy. Some day I shall do something desperate to -rid you of me, for I cannot bear to realise the coldness of your heart, -and at the same time to accept your generous self-sacrifice. - -You know I have always told you that I will accept nothing from you if -you do not love me! I love you so much that if I could inspire you with -my feelings, there would be nothing left for me to desire in this world. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, Noon, February 12th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my dear little man. How are you this morning? I am very -well, but I should be still better if I had seen you and breakfasted -with you.... I am arranging to go to _Hernani_ to-night. I hope there -will be no hitch, and that the promise of the bills will at last be -fulfilled. I am longing for the moment. It is such ages since I have -seen my _Hernani_, and it is such a beautiful creation! I wish it were -already night, and I were in my little box, with dear little Toto -sitting at the back, where I might reward him with eyes and lips for -every beautiful line. You are not jealous? Yes, I want you to be -jealous! I want you to be jealous, even of yourself, or else I shall not -believe that you love me. - -Good-morning, Toto. All this nonsense simply means that I dote on you -and think you beautiful and great and adorable. You did not come last -night--probably because there was to be a rehearsal this morning. Try -and behave properly at it, for I have Argus eyes and shall come down -upon you myself, like a thunderbolt, in the midst of your antics. -Meanwhile, take care of yourself; do not get cold feet or a headache -like mine; it would be a great nuisance. - -Dear soul, if you had the least regard for your health, you would have -your flannel underclothing made at once. I assure you you would find it -very comfortable. I am sorry now that I let you take the stuff away, for -if I had it still, I should force you to do all this. It is not that I -want to worry you, my adored one, for I know how many other important -things you have to think of, but this is one of the most pressing; that -is why I should like it done. I love you, my Toto, with all my strength, -and more yet. I press my lips in spirit upon your eyes and hair. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 12.15 p.m., March 7th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my dear little beloved. How are your eyes, my Toto? It -torments me to know that you are suffering so much, for however brave -and uncomplaining you may be, I can see quite well that you are in pain. - -If you knew how I love you, my dear one, you would understand my trouble -and grief when you suffer. I suppose you are going to the rehearsal this -morning. I wish the first performance[76] was to be this evening, for I -am trembling already. Generally, I only begin to shiver on the day -itself, but this time my terrors have set in twenty-four hours in -advance. I hope my fears will have been vain, like so often before, and -that your beautiful poetry will prove all-conquering as ever. To-morrow -my soul will animate the spectators. I shall inspire enthusiasm in the -discriminating, and strangle, by sheer force of love, the hatred and -envy of the scum who would dare criticise your magnificent _Marion_, for -whom I have so special a partiality. - -[Illustration: AUTOGRAPH AND DRAWING BY JULIETTE DROUET.] - -I express myself awkwardly, but I feel all this acutely. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 7.30 p.m., March 7th, 1838._ - -MY DARLING, - -I see you very seldom, but it is not your fault, I know. I look -constantly into my heart, whence you are never absent, and there I see -you growing daily nobler, greater, and dearer. So to-morrow is _the -great day_! Ardently as I have desired its advent, I now dread it more -than I can say. However, up till now I have always been very frightened, -and nothing has happened, so I hope it may be the same this time. -Besides, how could the disapproval of a few miserable wretches and -idiots affect the magnificent verses of _Marion_? It will only prompt -the sincere and intelligent portion of the audience to do you instant -and brilliant justice. I am no longer afraid. I am as brave and strong -as love itself. Put me where you like--I do not care--all places are -equally good to applaud from, just as all moments are suitable for -adoring you. Good-bye, my love. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 12.45 p.m., March 8th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, blessed one. I am quite upset. If your success to-night is -in proportion to my fright, you will have the most magnificent triumph -of your life. I hardly know what I am doing; I am shaking like a leaf, I -cannot grasp my pen. I must try to pull myself together for this -evening. It is absurd of me to be such a little craven; besides, what -harm can a _cabal_ do you? None! It can only enhance your greatness, if -such a thing be possible; so, I am ashamed of my cowardice. I am -horribly stupid to dread a thing which certainly will not happen, and if -it did, would not injure you. Now that is enough! I will not fear again, -and I will admire and applaud my _Marion_ in the very face of the cabal. -I will give them a hot time to-night! Bravo! bravo!! bravo!!! I feel as -if I were there already, and the happiest of women. - -My little darling man, are you not soon coming to me? I do so long for -you. I feel as if you had been very cold to me lately. In the old days, -a first performance did not prevent your coming to make love to me. -Heavens, what torture it is to have to doubt you at a moment when I am -so desperately in need of you! I love you! - -JULIETTE. - -_Friday, 1.45 p.m., March 9th, 1838._ - -You are adorable, my great Victor. I wish I could express myself as -earnestly as I feel, but that is impossible; I am tongue-tied. So the -great performance is over! What a fool I was to be frightened, and how -rightly I placed my confidence in that great noodle the public, which is -so slow and so hard to work up, but when once started, boils over so -satisfactorily. What a magnificent success, and how thoroughly -justified! What a beautiful piece, what lovely verses! and the -fascinating poet! Everything was understood, applauded, admired. It was -delightful. My soul was raised heavenward with the Play. Dear God, how -magnificent it was!!!!!!!!!!! I must be there again to-morrow, and every -night. Surely I have the right! - -I love you, my Toto, I adore you with all the strength of my soul. I -wish I could go out--it is such a fine day. I kiss your beloved hands. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 12.15 a.m., March 11th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my beloved one, good-morning, handsomest and greatest of -men. I cannot speak as well as some of the people who pay you such -beautiful and sincere homage, but I feel from the bottom of my soul that -I admire and love you more than any one in the world. All the same, I am -sad and discouraged. I can see that you place no reliance on my -intelligence, that my last years are flying by without earning what they -easily might: a position, and a provision for the future. I am not angry -with you. It is not your fault if you are prejudiced against me to the -point of allowing me, without regret, to waste the last few years of my -youth. Possibly my desire to create for myself an independent position, -and to remain ever at your side, has given birth to the delusion that I -possess a great talent which only requires scope. However that may be, I -am in despair, and I love you more than ever. You are good to look at, -my adored one, you are great in intellect, my Victor, and yet I dare -proffer my devotion, for it is as genuine as your beauty and as deep as -your genius. I adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 11.30 a.m., April 10th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my soul, my joy, my life. How are your adored eyes, my -Toto? I cannot refrain from asking, because it interests me to hear, -more than anything in the world. I am always thinking about them. I long -for the 15th of this month, for then I shall have the right to insist -upon your resting, and I shall certainly exercise it. My dear love, what -joy it will be for me to feel your dear head leaning against mine, to -kiss your beautiful eyes, and to make certain that you do not work. The -weather is lovely this morning. It carries my thoughts back to our dear -little annual trip, when we were so happy and so cosy together. We are -not to have that felicity this year, and really I do not know how I -shall endure it when the time comes at which we used to start. It will -be very hard and difficult, and I doubt whether my courage and reason -will suffice to enable me to bear the greatest sacrifice I have ever -made in my life. My dear one, it will be sad indeed; I wonder whether I -shall be equal to it. - -I love you, adore you, admire you, and again I love and adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 7.45 p.m., April 10th, 1838._ - -My love, I am writing to you with joy and worship in my heart. You were -so kind and tender and fascinating to me to-day that I seemed to feel -again the savour and rapture of the days of old. My Toto, my adored -one, fancy if your love were to flower again like some brilliant, -sweet-scented spring blossom! With what ecstasy and reverence I would -preserve it fresh and rosy in my breast. Poor beloved, your work has -done to our idyll what the winter does to the trees and flowers--the sap -has retired deep into the bottom of your heart, and often I have feared -it was quite dead; but now I see it was not: it was only lulled to sleep -and I shall possess my Toto once more, beautiful, blooming, and perfumed -as in those glorious days of our first love. - -I who am not a sensitive plant of the sun like you, have yet come better -through the trial, and if I bear no blossom, I have at least the -advantage of preserving my leaves ever green and alive; that is to say, -I have never ceased to love and adore you. Indeed that is true, my own, -I love you as much as the first day. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 11 a.m., April 22nd, 1838._ - -You see, darling, by the dimensions of my paper, that I am preparing to -go and applaud my _Marion_ this evening. I will not reproach you for not -having come this morning. In fact, in future I shall not allude to it -again, for nothing is more unsuitable or ridiculous than the -solicitations of a woman who vainly appeals for the favours of her -lover. Therefore, beloved, as I am to live with you as a sister with a -brother, you will approve of my refraining from reminding you in any way -of the time when we were husband and wife. - -It is still very cold, my maid says; although the sun is shining in at -my windows, it has left its warmth in the sky. It resembles the fine -phrases of a suitor who no longer loves; his words may be the same, his -expressions as tender, his language as impassioned, but love is lacking -and those words which scintillate as the sun upon my windows, fail to -warm the heart of the poor woman who had dreamt of love eternal. - -You will probably see Granier this morning.[77] I hope so, so that you -may not be worried any more about that business. I also hope Jourdain -will come to-morrow about the chimney. It is unbearable that one should -have to wait upon the whim of a workman for a job which might be -finished in a few minutes, and that would please you so much. I have -read with pleasure the verses that came to you in the newspaper from -Guadaloupe; they show that you are admired over there as much as here, -and that you have fewer enemies abroad than at the Acadmie Franaise. I -am furious with that little imp called Thiers, who although he is not a -quarter of a man as far as size goes, yet permits himself to cherish the -rancour of a giant. Miserable little wretch! If only I were not a woman, -I might castigate you as you deserve! - -And you, my Toto, so great and so wonderful, I adore you! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 10.15 a.m., August 2nd, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my little beloved. Do you still need a secretary? I am -quite ready. Come; it is so delightful to dip my pen into your glorious -poetry, and watch the shining and coruscating of those precious gems -which take the shape of your thoughts. Dd could not be more delighted -and dazzled than I am, if she were given the diamonds and jewels of the -crown of England to play with for an hour. Oh, if I could only have -spent the night with my Csar and his noble companions, I would have -followed him without fatigue wherever he wanted to go, even as far -as.... But you would not allow it, you jealous boy; you feared -comparison, and you were perfectly right, for I like well-dressed men. -Good-morning, my Toto. My left eye is very bad; it is swollen and -painful. If this continues I shall no longer be in the position of -regretting that I cannot lend you my eyes in exchange for your own. I -love you, I adore you. Do not be too long before coming to me. - -I am longing for you with all my might. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 9.45 p.m., August 15th, 1838._ - -My dear little man, I love you. You are the treasure of my heart. I wish -we were already in our carriage galloping, galloping far, and farther -still, so that it might take us ever so long to get back. - -Since you have hinted at the possibility of my playing in your beautiful -piece,[78] I am like a somnambulist who has been made to drink too much -champagne. I see everything magnified: I see glory, happiness, love, -adoration, in gigantic and impossible dimensions--impossible, because I -feel you can never love me as I love you, and that my talent, however -considerable, can never reach to the level of your sublime poetry. I do -not say this from modesty, but because I do not think there exists in -this world man or woman capable of interpreting the parts as you -conceived them in your master mind. - -I love you, my Toto, I adore you, my little man, you are my sun and my -life, my love and my soul. - -All that, and more. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 8 p.m., September._ - -Are you proposing to cut out all the dandies and bloods of the capital? -My congratulations to you. I was only waiting for some such sign to give -myself up to an orgy of wild and eccentric toilette. Heaven only knows -the extravagances I mean to commit in the way of shoes, silk stockings, -gowns, hats, light gloves, and bows for my hair! You will, I suppose, -retaliate with an assortment of skin-tight trousers, strings of orders, -and more or less absurd hair arrangements. Delightful indeed! There only -remains for one of us to live at the Barrire de l'toile and the other -at the Barrire du Trne, to dazzle the dwellers of the town and -suburbs, as well as strangers from abroad. Capital!!! - -My sore throat has come on again and you are not here to cure it. If you -think this pleasant you are quite wrong, and if I followed my own bent I -should deprive you of your functions as doctor-in-chief of the great -Juju. I am determined to forgive you only if you come to supper with me -presently. Seriously, I cannot understand why you keep away, seeing -that your Play is in rehearsal, that this is our holiday time, and that -I adore you. I am almost tempted to be a little jealous, only -unfortunately, when I mean to be only slightly jealous, I become very -seriously so; therefore I try as much as possible to spare myself that -discomfort. You would be sweet and kind, my Toto, if you would come and -eat my frugal dinner with me to-night and ... I am going to concentrate -my thoughts upon you, so as to magnetise you and bring you back in the -shortest possible time to your faithful old Juju who loves and adores -you. My first proceeding is to kiss your eyes, your mouth, and your dear -little feet. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 12 noon, October 30th, 1838._ - -My beloved little man, you are so good and sweet when you see me that it -is a pity you should see me so seldom, and that you should forget me as -soon as your back is turned. To punish you, I am not going to write you -two letters to-day; partly in consideration for your dear little eyes, -and partly because it would be unfair to reward indifference and -coldness in the same degree as affection and assiduity. Pray do not take -the above expression, "dear little eyes," in an ironical sense--I mean -it on the contrary as an endearing diminutive; your "dear little eyes" -signify to me my adored, beautiful eyes, the mirrors of my soul, the -stars of my heaven, everything that is most beautiful and fascinating, -gentlest, noblest, and highest. - -I love you, my Toto. I kiss your ripe red lips, your dazzling teeth, -your little hands, and your twinkling feet. I am writing only your -little daily bulletin, because your eyes are bad, and you have no time -to waste; neither do I wish to tire or bore you, but only to make you -love me a little bit. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8.30 p.m., November 22nd, 1838._ - -My little treasure of a man, you were sweet to select my hovel for a -resting-place from which to write your laudatory remarks upon Mlle. -Atala Beauchne,[79] commonly called Beaudouin. It gave me a chance to -admire your charming profile and kiss your beautiful shining locks. I -thank you for that happiness, and I consent to your inditing daily -effusions concerning that lady, if only you do so in my room and under -my eyes. - -As you promised to come back presently, the chances are that you will -not return. I have half a mind to undress, light my fire, and set to -work to bruise poppy-heads; for my provision is almost at an end, and -later on I may be busy at the theatre, if Joly[80] persists in his crazy -idea of giving us a whole week's rehearsals of a piece which is only to -be played four months hence. It is an inducement to use the time at my -disposal now, to prepare your little daily remedy. - -I love you, Victor, I love you, my darling Toto. - -JULIETTE. - -_Monday, 6 p.m., April 15th, 1839._ - -Why is it, my little beloved, that you always seem so jealous? You take -the bloom off all those scraps of happiness your dear presence would -otherwise give me, for nothing chills one's embraces so much as the -vexed, uneasy mien you usually wear. It would not even be so bad if you -did not accuse _me_ of that same constrained, annoyed look; but the more -suspicious you are, the more you think it is I who am cross, although -this is simply the effect of the glasses through which your jealousy -views me. Never mind, I love you and forgive you, and if only you will -come and take me out a little this evening and show me part of _Lucrce_ -I shall be happy and content. What a beautiful day! I would have given -days and even months for the chance of strolling by your side wherever -your rverie led you. Alas, it is I who am sad, and with excellent -reason! As for you, you old lunatic, what have you to complain of? You -are adored, and you are free to accept and make use of that sentiment as -much and as often as you desire; perhaps that is why you desire it so -seldom.... But let us talk of other things. Please love me a little, -while I give you my whole soul. - -JULIETTE. - -_Sunday, 6.30 p.m., October 27th, 1839._ - -Here I am at my scribbling again, my Toto. It is a sad pleasure, if any, -after the two months of love and intimacy which have just elapsed. Here -I sit again with my ink and paper, my faults of spelling, my stupidity -and my love. When we were travelling I did not need all this -paraphernalia to be happy. It was enough for me to worship you, and God -knows whether I did that! Here I do not love you less--on the -contrary--but I live far from you, I long for you, I worry about you, I -am unhappy--that is all. Still, I am not ungrateful or forgetful; I -fully appreciate that you have just given me nearly two months of bliss. -I still feel upon my lips the touch of your kisses, and upon my hand the -pressure of yours. But the felicity I have experienced only throws into -greater relief the void your absence leaves in my life. When you are no -longer by my side, I cease to exist, to think, to hope. I desire you and -I suffer. Therefore I dread as much as death itself the return to that -hideous Paris, where there is naught for lovers who love as we -love--neither sunshine, nor that confidence which is the sunshine of -love--nothing but rain, suspicion, jealousy, the three blackest, -saddest, iciest of the scourges which can afflict body and heart. Oh, I -am wretched, my Toto, in proportion to my love; it is true, my adored -one, and it will ever be thus, when you are not with me. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 10 a.m., November 1st, 1839._ - -Good-morning, my dear little beloved, my darling little man. You told me -so definitely yesterday that my handwriting was hideous, and my scrawl -nothing but a horrible maze in which you lose both patience and love, -that I hardly dare write to you to-day, and it would take very little to -make me cease our correspondence altogether. We must have an explanation -on this subject, for it is cruel of you to force me to make myself -ridiculous night and morning, simply because I love you and am the -saddest and loneliest of women. If my love must be drowned in my -ignorance and stupidity, at least do not force me to make the plunge -myself. There was a time when you would not have noticed the ugliness of -my writing; you would only have read my meaning and been happy and -grateful. Now you laugh, which is shabby and wicked of you. This seems -to be the fate of all the Quasimodo of this world, moral and physical; -they are jeered at: form is everything, spirit nothing. Even if I could -constrain my crabbed scrawl to say, "My soul is beautiful," you would -not be any the less amused. Therefore, my dear little man, pending the -moment when I can join in the laugh against myself, I think it would be -as well to suspend these daily lucubrations. Besides, the moment has -come when I must turn all my time and energies towards making my -position secure. Nothing in this world can turn me from my purpose, for -it is to me a question of life and death, and Heaven knows that in all -these seven years I have never failed to tell you so whenever there has -been an opportunity. I count upon you to help me, my beloved. I am -asking you for more than life--for the moral consummation of our -marriage of love. Let me go with you wherever my happiness is -threatened, let me be the wife of your mind and heart, if I cannot be -yours in law. If I express myself badly, do not scoff, but understand -that I have a right to put into words what you yourself have felt, and -that I insist upon defending my own against all those women who get at -you under pretext of serving you. I will have my turn, for I love you -and am jealous. - -J. - -_Friday, 6.30 p.m., November 1st, 1839._ - -You are good, my adored one, and I am a wretch; but I love you while you -only permit yourself to be loved; that is what makes you so tranquil and -me so bitter. My heart is weighed down by jealousy this evening and -nothing less than your adored presence will suffice to calm me, for I -carry hell and all the furies within my soul. I wish I could be sewn to -the lining of your coat to-night, for I feel I am about to encounter -some great danger that I can only defeat by not leaving your side. If my -fears are well-grounded, I shall probably fail in averting the doom that -threatens me, for you will not be able to stay with me all the evening. -The compliments and flattery you will receive will take you from me. I -cannot deny that I am unhappy and jealous, and would much rather be with -you at Fontainebleau, at the Htel de France, than in Box C. of the -Thtre Franais, even when _Marion de Lorme_ is being played. Kiss me, -my little man; you are very sweet in your new greatcoat, but you had not -told me you had been to your tailor. I shall keep up with you by sending -for my dressmaker. I do not mean to surrender to you the palm for -smartness and dandyism. Ha! who is caught? Toto! Toto! - -Rsilieux is beaming, Claire is happy, Suzanne is an idiot; such is the -condition of the household. I am all three at the same time, plus the -adoration I profess energetically for your imperial and sacred person. -Kiss me and be careful of yourself this evening. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 12 noon, November 4th, 1839._ - -Good-morning, treasure. It is twelve by my clock, which is several hours -fast, but I have been up some little time. I have dressed my child, and -she is now practising on the piano. I spent the night thinking over what -you said, my adored one. One luminous phrase especially stands out and -scorches my soul. Perhaps you only said it idly as one of the -compliments one is constrained to make to the woman who loves one? I -know not, but I do know, that I have taken the assurance you gave me -that you have never really loved any woman but me, as a sacred thing, -unalterably true. I adore you and had never felt even the semblance of -love until I met you. I love and adore you, and shall love and adore you -for ever, for love is the essence of my body, my heart, my life, and my -soul. Believe this, my treasure, for it is God's own truth. Your dread -of seeing me re-enter theatrical life will quickly be dissipated by the -probity and steadiness of my conduct. I hope, and am certain of this. -You have nothing to fear from me wherever I may be. I adore you, I -venerate you. If I could do as you wish and renounce the theatre, that -is to say my sole chance of securing my future, I would do so without -hesitation and without your having to urge it, simply to please you. -But, my beloved, I feel that it were easier to relinquish life itself -than the hope of paying my creditors and making myself independent by -earning my own living. If I were to make this sacrifice I am sure my -despair would bring about some irreparable catastrophe that would weigh -upon you all your days. - -My adored one, do not try to turn me from the only thing that can bring -me peace and make me believe in your love. Help me and do not forsake -me unless I give you just cause to do so. Spend your whole life in -loving me, in exchange for my unswerving loyalty and adoration. - -Kiss me, my little man. - -I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 4.45 p.m., November 15th, 1839._ - -I wrote the date and hour on this half-sheet of paper, thinking it was -blank. I explain this, in order that your suspicious mind may not again -draw a flood of insulting deductions from a thing that has happened so -simply and naturally. You upset me just now when you said good-bye, -because you said cruel things. It was a bad moment to choose. Your -manner to me is enough to discourage an angel, and I have begun to ask -myself whether it is possible to love a woman one does not esteem. If -you esteemed me you would not for ever suspect my words, my silence, my -actions, my conduct; if you loved me you would know how to appreciate my -honesty and fidelity, whereas even in the tenderest moments of our most -intimate communion, you never fail to say something cruel and -disheartening. I often say one might almost imagine you were under a -promise to someone to tire out my love by inflicting pain upon me on -every occasion; but I hope you will never succeed in doing this. - -I suffer, I despair at heart, but I love you so far, and I hope for both -our sakes that I always shall. I cling to my love even more than to your -esteem, for the latter is a poor blind thing that cannot distinguish -night from day, candle-light from sunshine, or an honest woman from a -harlot. - -[Illustration: THE BRIDGE OF MARNE. - -Drawing by Victor Hugo (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -My love is more clear-sighted. It was attracted at once by your physical -and spiritual perfection, and has never confused you with any other of -the human species. I love you, Toto. Torment me, drive me to desperation -if you will, but you shall never succeed in diminishing my affection. My -head aches, little man, and the thoughts that fill it at this moment are -not calculated to cure its pain. I press my hand upon my brow to crush -thought, and I open my heart to all that is good and tender in my love -for you. Good-bye, Toto. I adore you. Good-bye. We were very happy this -morning; let us try to be so again very soon. - -In the meantime I adore you. - -JULIETTE. - -_Wednesday, 8.45, November 20th, 1839._ - -I am in despair. I wish I were dead and everything at an end! The more -precautions I take, the more I purge my life, the less happiness I -achieve. It is as if I were accursed, and I often feel a wild desire to -behave as if I were, and crush my love underfoot. I am so unhappy that I -lose all courage and hope for the future. You were very good to me when -you were going away, but that does not prove that when you come back -presently you may not be the most offensive and unjust of men. I -sacrifice to you one by one all my actions, even the most insignificant; -I am careful inwardly and outwardly to cause you no sort of offence, and -yet I am unsuccessful! My struggles only fatigue and dishearten me. On -the eve of taking the great step which would bind us to each other even -closer than we already are, would it not be better for us to break off -our relations, and put a stop to the whole thing instead? I can -understand now the generosity of Didier, who elects to die upon the -scaffold forgiving Marion with his last breath, rather than live -persecuting and torturing her with the recollection of her past, and -with suspicions a thousand times more painful than death and oblivion. -Ah, yes, I can understand a Didier like that.... I suffer! Ah, God, -people who do not love are very fortunate! I love you, and I know that -failing some violent remedy I shall continue to suffer and care for you. -I admit that all these things I write are absurd, and that it would be -wiser to throw this letter into the fire, and keep to myself the -thousand and one follies inspired by my despair. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 5.30 p.m., December 16th, 1839._ - -You did well, my adored one, to come back after the painful incident we -had just gone through. If you had not, I should have been wretched all -the evening. Thank you, my beloved Toto, thank you, my love. You looked -very preoccupied, my treasure, when you came up the first time. I -gathered that Guirault's letter had something to do with this, and that -you were meditating your answer. Beyond that, I did not take much -notice, for I was too furious with you to be able to think of anything. - -If you knew how much I love you, and how faithful I am to you, my adored -one, you would be less suspicious. Suspicion is an insult that makes me -frantic, because, it proves to me that you do not believe in either my -honesty or my love. Jealousy is another thing: one can be jealous of a -face or of a person, because however sure one may be of one's own -superiority, one may still fear that some beast or monster may be -preferred to oneself; but jealousy, I repeat, is different from -everlasting suspicion of one's actions and even of one's negative -conduct and inaction. Finally, I differentiate between jealousy and -suspicion; I feel there is a great gulf between my jealousy and yours, -and yet I love you more than you love me--you cannot gainsay that--if -you admit it, I will pardon all your misdeeds and adore you and kiss -your dear little feet. _Hurrah! I am to have my wardrobe! Hurrah!_ - -You will not be an Academician, but you will always be my dear little -lover. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 5 p.m., January 16th, 1840._ - -I love you, my Toto, and am sad at seeing you so seldom. But I know how -much you have to do, my little man, so am not angry with you--still that -does not prevent me from being horribly sad. - -Money melts in my pocket. I was reading yesterday a description of -Monsieur de Svign, the son, which applies wonderfully to me. "He had -no hobbies, did not entertain, gave no presents, wore plain attire, -gambled not at all, had only one servant and not a single horse on which -to ride out with the King or the Dauphin; yet his hand was like a -crucible wherein gold is melted." I am rather like that. I do not give -many presents, I wear the same dress for a year at a time, I only do -expensive cooking when you are coming to dine with me, I have only one -servant, and yet money disappears in my establishment like snow under -the rays of the sun. With me, it is not my hand that is the crucible, -but my past life, which is like an abyss that all the money in the world -would find it difficult to fill. That is why I am sad. Love me, my Toto, -and above all do not kill yourself with working for everybody as you do -without respite. I can sell something I do not want, whereas your health -and repose are indispensable to my welfare and tranquillity. Remember -that, my dear one, and do not be over scrupulous at the expense of the -real consideration which makes my happiness. When shall I see you again, -treasure? - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 1.15 p.m., March 22nd, 1840._ - -Good-morning, my beloved Toto. I read the manuscript of "Didine" over -again last night, and I shed all the tears I had restrained in your -presence. I am more convinced than ever that you committed an act of -unfaithfulness against our love when you composed those lines. I do not -see how you can hope to persuade me to the contrary, or wonder that I am -wounded to the quick by such a mental and spiritual lapse. Jealousy is -not excited only by infidelities of the senses, but primarily by such an -infidelity as that which you have committed in writing these verses and -concentrating your gaze and your thoughts upon that young girl, while my -whole heart and soul were raised in prayer for you in that church at -Strasbourg. I will never go back there, either to the church or to the -town. There is an end of that. Would to God we had never gone there at -all! I should have preserved one illusion more, and suffered one sorrow -less. Well, well, it is not your fault. You wished to carry away the -memory of that woman, as you could not possess her person, and you have -written some very beautiful lines which prove, in the same degree as my -pain, what a profound and striking impression she produced upon you. I -hope you may never experience a jealousy so well-justified as mine about -any woman you may love in the future; for myself I desire a speedy -recovery from the most miserable infatuation in all this world. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 6.45 p.m., June 1st, 1840._ - -I am writing to you in the company of Rsilieux, my love, but that does -not restore to me the gaiety I have lost since this morning. That woman -and her persistence annoy me more than I can say. When I think of the -close confinement in which I live and realise the depth and devotion of -the love I bear you, I am indignant to the bottom of my heart that a -wretched woman of the street should dare to cast the eye of envy upon a -passion which constitutes the religion and adoration of my whole life. -If I listened to my own inclination, I should make a terrible example of -the hussy and her low caprice, and no other would venture an attempt to -capture your affections for many a long day. I am wretched since this -morning. I think myself plain, old, stupid, badly dressed--and all -because I tremble for the safety of my love, because I am afraid for my -poor little slice of happiness. Alas! alas! my Toto, I care too much -for you; it is crazy of me. I did so hope that when your family was -settled in the country, you would sometimes come and take me out with -you--but, on the contrary, in a whole month I have only been out once -with you; for I do not count those two evenings at the theatre, when I -drove there and back in a carriage. It would be a cruel jest if you -considered those as going out with you. I am not well. I have rushes of -blood to the head and heart, but you do not care. I shall not do my -monthly accounts to-night; my head aches too badly. Perhaps I may try -to-morrow. The laundress has been here and I have paid her; I shall -probably get the grocer's bill to-morrow, but I shall certainly not pay -it unless you have plundered some passer-by to-night. Meanwhile, I love -you, my Toto. Dinner has just been announced; I shall not be as happy as -yesterday, for you are not dining with me; but perhaps as I am alone I -shall be able to ruminate over my good fortune, for I was hardly able to -realise it at all yesterday with all those females about. - -JULIETTE. - - -_January 7th, 9.30 a.m., 1841._ - -Good-morning, my darling Toto, to whom I dare not yet give his -prospective title, for I am very doubtful of the integrity of old -Dupaty. I hope you will not keep me waiting too long for the result of -the rabid voting of the opposing parties.[81] The contest becomes more -and more curious and interesting. I wish it were already four o'clock. - -The weather is not very propitious for that moribund scoundrel. It would -be difficult to let him down through the window, and still more so to -transport him to the place where we do not wish him to be. If the -computation is correct, the mortal illness of the old wretch should give -you the place by a majority of one vote at the first scrutiny; but what -about a black-ball? Perhaps this time it will come from the ignoble -creature who walks under the filthy, greasy, hideous hat of that beast -Dupaty. I wish we were already at this afternoon, that I might know what -the foul old man has dared to do. Until then I shall look at my clock -many and many a time. Try, my love, to come at once and tell me the -result whatever it may be. I shall at least have the pleasure of seeing -you, which will add to the joy of your nomination or console you for -your defeat. - -By the way, you were so shabby last night that one might suppose you -were preparing to contest the palm of bad dressing with that old -pickpocket Dupaty. I shall forgive you your untidiness if you are -successful. I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 6 p.m., January 7th, 1841._ - -I am enchanted for everybody's sake, my dear Academician, that at last -you are elected. There you are at last, thanks to the seventeen votes of -your friends, and in spite of your fifteen adversaries. You are an -Academician. Hurrah! - -I wish I could have witnessed with my own eyes the grimaces of all -those contemptible old things, and heard the profession of faith of that -horrible Dupaty; you ought to indemnify me by showing me your own -beautiful countenance for a little more than a paltry five minutes as -you did just now. I love you, Toto, as much as the first day and more -than ever. But, alas, I dare not believe the same of you, for I do not -see much proof of it, as my maid would say. The fact is that whether as -an Academician, or a candidate, or nothing at all, I hardly see you more -than an hour a day. This is neither novel nor consoling; it becomes more -and more sad and painful. Think of that, my love, and come very soon -after you have read my letter. - -I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 10.45 a.m., April 11th, 1841._ - -Good morning, my beloved Toto, my adored little man. How are you, my -darling? I am afraid you may have tired yourself last night reading your -splendid speech to me. Poor beloved, it would be a calamity that my -pleasure should cost you so dear; it would be unjust and cruel. I hope -it is not so, my adored one, and that you have not been punished for -your kindness. - -What a magnificent address! and how stupid it is of me only to -appreciate it inwardly, and to be incapable of expressing my feelings -better than by inarticulate grunts. It is not my fault, yet since I have -learned to love you I have not been able to resign myself to my -limitations. Every time the opportunity presents itself to admire you I -am furious with myself and should like to slap and kick myself--though -my poor body would have no time to recover between the assaults, for -every single thing you say and do is as admirable and striking as your -written works. So I should be kept busy. Fortunately you do not object -to my want of intellect; you realise the quality and proportions of my -love. All my intelligence and being have turned to spirit, to idolise -you. I may be only a goose outwardly, but inwardly I am sublime with -devotion. Which is best? I cannot tell, it is for you to decide. -Meanwhile I am the most fortunate of women to have heard the beginning -of your beautiful speech, and I love you with all my strength. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 4.30 a.m., June 3rd, 1841._ - -Good morning, my adored little man, my beloved _Monsieur l'Acadmicien_! -How are you, my Toto? I am very much afraid you will be horribly tired -before this afternoon, poor treasure![82] I think you should have had -the speech printed a day earlier, and have kept this night free for -resting. - -I really do not know how you will manage to deliver your address after -these several days of grinding fatigue, and a night spent in correcting -the proofs at the printing-works. Nobody but you can accomplish these -feats of endurance. Still, my beloved, it is time you changed a mode of -living which must kill you in the long run. I hope you are going to -spend the remaining few hours in your bed. - -I already feel as agitated as if I were going to make the speech myself. -I shall be in a desperate state of mind until you have finished and -Salvandy begins to speak. I shall have this fearful lump on my chest -until then. - -Whatever happens I adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_June 3rd, 5.30 p.m., 1841._ - -Where shall I begin, my love? At your divine feet or your celestial -brow? What shall I express first? My admiration? Or the adoration that -overflows my heart like your sublime genius surpasses the mediocre -creatures who listened to you without understanding, and gazed at you -without falling upon their knees! Ah, let me mingle those two sentiments -that dazzle my brain and burn up my heart. I love you! I admire you! I -adore you! You are truly splendid, noble, and sublime, my poet, my -beloved, light of my eyes, flame of my heart, life of my life! Poor -adored beloved; when I saw you enter, so pale and shaken, I felt myself -swooning, and but for the support of Madame Dmousseaux and Madame -Pierceau, I should have fallen to the floor. Happily nobody noticed my -emotion, and when I came to myself and saw your sweet smile answering -mine and encouraging me, I felt as if I were awaking from a long, -painful dream, though only a second of time had elapsed. - -Thank you, my adored one, for sparing a thought to the poor woman who -loves you, at that solemn moment--I should have said, that supreme -moment, if the assemblage had not consisted for the greater part of -tiresome blockheads and vile scoundrels. - -Thank you, my good angel, my sublime Victor, my illustrious _child_. I -saw all your dear little family;[83] lovely Didine, charming Charlot, -and dear little Toto who looked pale and delicate. I kissed them all in -spirit as I did their divine father. - -I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 2.30 p.m., July 8th, 1841._ - -While you are lording it at the Acadmie[84] I am weeping and suffering -at home. You might have spared me this pain by inviting me to attend the -sitting, or else staying away yourself. I must warn you, my Toto, that -this sort of sacrifice and torment is unendurable, and if it happens -again I do not know what I may do rather than resign myself to it. - -We are not living in the East, and you have not _bought_ me, thank -Heaven! I am free to cast off the yoke of proceedings which are neither -just, nor kind, nor affectionate. I swear by all I hold most sacred in -this world, namely my love, that I will not submit a third time to be -thus flouted. If you knew how furious and miserable I am feeling at this -moment of writing, you would not venture to inflict a third trial of the -kind upon me. In any case pray keep my letter as a _definite -announcement_ of what I am capable of doing if you are so cruel as to -persist in your present line of conduct. Meanwhile I am doing my best to -avoid taking any definitely fatal step, but I warn you that I cannot -much longer remain mistress of myself. - -JULIETTE. - - -_1 a.m._ - -Hell in my heart at noon, Paradise at midnight, my Toto. I love you and -have full confidence in you. - - -_Friday, 7.45 p.m., November 19th, 1841._ - -I HAVE IT! HURRAH!! Fancy, it has been here all the morning, yet nothing -warned me! My heart did not beat faster than usual, the earth did not -tremble, the skies did not fall, in fact everything remained in its -humdrum, normal condition, as if nothing unusual had happened--and it -was here all the time! I possessed it in my room, under my eyes! Verily -it can hardly be credited, and if anybody but myself said so I should -not believe it. But what you must believe, my love, for indeed it is -true, is that I love you and that you are the kindest, most charming, -best, handsomest, most generous, most noble, and most adored of men. -That is what you have got to believe, because it is God's own truth. The -cabinet is fascinating, but what is still nicer is the way you gave it -to me. "The manner of the gift is better than the gift itself," was once -said by some one whose name I have forgotten. When you are the donor, -the proverb is still more applicable. If you had all the treasures of -the universe to bestow, you would do it with a grace that would enhance -the value of the gift a thousandfold. As for me I am mad with delight, -for I believe you love me. I may tell you now that last night I cried -helplessly at the thought of how much younger and handsomer you are than -I. I anticipated the moment when you will no longer be able to love me, -and my heart contracted so that I should have suffocated without the -relief of tears. I feel I shall certainly die the day you cease to care -for me, and I know that no other woman can ever worship you as I do. But -I trust that day will never dawn, will it, my angel? There are no -wrinkles in the heart, and you will see my face only in the reflection -of your attachment, eh, Victor, my beloved? The while I wept and -mourned, you were thinking of me, my poor sweet, and bringing me the -cabinet. We were both performing an act of love, mine gloomy, yours, -charming and considerate like everything you do. I hope your present -will bring us both happiness, and that you will adore me as long as I -shall admire my dear little cabinet--that is, for ever. - -I HAVE IT! WHAT HAPPINESS! I should like to put it in the middle of the -room on a golden table, or in my bed, or carry it in my arms, on my -heart, anywhere in fact where it could be seen and touched. Meanwhile I -will give it a good cleaning to-morrow. It is rather too late to-night. -I must do some copying, and dine, and send you back the scribble you -entrusted to me yesterday, so I will put off till to-morrow--principally -because I shall have a better light then. I will clean it in bed, drawer -by drawer. It will be a delightful occupation. - -I love you, I love you, Toto, I kiss you and adore you, Toto. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday evening, 6.30, February 9th, 1842._ - -Do you really want me to write Toto, even when my heart is breaking, and -my soul brimful of discouragement? I obey, but if you would only listen -to me, you would allow me to discontinue these daily scrawls, which have -never served any purpose but that of betraying the measure of my -stupidity and making you tire of a love become absurd by dint of -reiteration. I feel you only insist out of kindness, but it seems futile -to continue this childish babble, which deceives neither you nor me, and -gives me no indication of what is passing in your mind. It would be -better, my beloved, to inure me gradually to a catastrophe which may be -nearer than I guess, than to make efforts to leave me an illusion which -neither of us really shares nowadays. A sad ending to all our past -happiness! God grant it may not be altogether buried. This does not -prevent me from doing you full justice, my friend. You are kind with a -kindness full of pity and divine indulgence, but you no longer cherish -for me the love of a man for a woman. Do not pretend otherwise, for you -cannot delude me. I bear you no grudge my Victor, neither should you -bear me any, for it is no more your fault than mine, that you do not -love me while I still love you--not our fault, but God's, Who -distributes unequally the amount of love we may each expend during our -lives. Happy he or she to whom the smaller sum is apportioned--so much -the worse for him or her whose heart is inexhaustible. Now, my beloved -Toto, I will torment you no longer. I will even try to make myself -agreeable, though, alas, what woman can be agreeable when she is no -longer loved! But I shall do my best, and that, coupled with your -natural generosity, may still retard for a few days the greatest -misfortune of my life. Fear nothing from me, my Victor. You have to-day -received the last expression of my choler. One may strike, and even -kill, while one feels oneself beloved, but one must spare the man who no -longer cherishes one. - -You see, my Victor, that you have nothing to be afraid of, but I beseech -you to let me off these daily scribbles about things that have neither -point nor reason. - -I demand this of your goodness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 2.30 p.m., February 10th, 1842._ - -My beloved, my adored Victor, thank you! You remove hell from my heart, -and replace it with paradise. Thank you! My life, my spirit, my soul, -bless and adore you. What a letter, my God! I wanted to read it -kneeling; happy tears poured down my cheeks. You love me, my dear one! -It must be true, for you declare it in the loveliest, sweetest language -of the whole world. You love me although I am ill-tempered, violent, -stupid; you love me my good angel, because you know that your love is -the breath of life to me, and that without it I could no longer exist. I -also love you, but only God and myself know how deeply. Yesterday when -you left me, I was on my knees praying and kissing with tears the -footsteps I could hear fading away in the street. I could have flung -myself out of the window and died at your feet. My despair, then, was as -poignant as the bliss I felt just now when I read your adored letter. -My Victor, my love, my life, my joy, I love you more than ever! I -implore your forgiveness, I throw myself at your feet and embrace them. -Thank you, my treasure. You must be very happy, for you have done a -lovely thing in writing me the most charming, the kindest, the most -wonderful and most adorable letter that ever issued from your heart. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 9.30, April 30th, 1842._ - -Good morning, my adored Toto. How did the little invalid sleep last -night? As for you, I do not even ask, my poor dear, for I know you spend -all your nights working. I love you, my poor angel. I do not know what -else to say, because that is the only thought in my heart and soul; to -love you always and for ever. Here comes the bright sunshine that is -going to cure our poor little man at once.[85] I have not seen a finer -spring since the one we spent strolling about the heights of Montmartre -together. I cannot think of it without tears of regret for the days that -are gone, and of gratitude to Providence for those few moments of most -perfect felicity. I would give half my life to have it again, my beloved -Toto; and it depends only upon you--if you wished it, we could easily -recover the happiness of those days. Why do you no longer desire it? I -know you have to work, but so you did then--_Claude Gueux_, _Philosophie -Mle_, _Les Voix Intrieures_, _Les Chants du Crpuscule_, _Anglo_, -_Les Rayons et Les Ombres_ and _Ruy Blas_, are there to prove it. In -those days you loved me better than you do at present. Alas, I love you -more than ever, or rather, as much as the first day!--that is, with -all my soul. - -JULIETTE. - -[Illustration: A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET. - -The original belongs to M. Louis Barthou.] - -_Saturday, 6.30 p.m., August 20th, 1842._ - -I am a strange creature--at least you think so, do you not, beloved? But -what you take for eccentricity, caprice, bad-temper, is really love, but -an unhappy love, mistrustful and anxious. Everything is to me a subject -of dread almost amounting to despair. Thus this visit to the Duchesse -d'Orlans, whither I quite admit you were kind enough to take me, was -simply a torment on account of the hour and the circumstances: I, badly -dressed, barely clean, and that woman under the prestige of a great -sorrow[86] which, next to physical beauty, is the surest way to your -heart. I frankly confess that however gallant my love may be, and -whatever reliance I may place upon your loyalty, I am not easy when I -have to fight and struggle without weapons. This result of a _surprise_ -and a hurried rush through Paris in a cab may seem excessive to you, and -verging on hysteria; but the fact is, my adored one, that my love, so -long repressed, is verily degenerating into a disease, almost into -frenzy. Everything hurts me. I am afraid of everything. I am a poor -thing needing much compassion for loving you so. If these incoherent -expressions do not force upon you the realisation of the depth of my -devotion, it must be that you no longer care for me, or indeed have -never done so; but if on the contrary you do understand, you will pity -and pardon me, and love me all the better, and I am the happiest of -women. - -JULIETTE. - - -_February 14th, 11.15 a.m., 1843._ - -Good morning beloved Toto, good morning adored one. I love you. When I -heard you describing last night the impression produced upon you by the -rehearsal of _Lucrce_ and more especially by the singing of the guests, -I seemed to feel it all myself. The fact that my love has not grown a -day older, that my admiration is still on the increase, that I think you -as handsome and as young as ever, makes it easier for me to go back to -the feelings of those days. Looking into my heart, I seem to feel that -all this adulation and joy and feast of glory and love began yesterday. -Alas, those ten years have left traces only upon my poor countenance, -and have been as harsh to it as they have been indulgent to your -charming features. - -I express this somewhat crudely, as I always manage to do, but it is not -my fault, my love, nor any one else's. I love you. Therein consist my -intelligence, my wit, my superiority; beyond that I am as stupid as any -other animal. - -You must be very busy to-day with the two rehearsals,[87] and the -Maxime[88] worry which falls upon your devoted head, not to speak of the -_great business_! I dare not expect you to-night till very late. Well, -my dearly beloved, I know you do not belong to me, so I will resign -myself as cheerfully as may be, and put a good face upon your absence. -Try to think of me, my dear little man; that is all I venture to ask at -this moment. As for me, there is no more merit in thinking of you and -loving you than in breathing. - -I love you, Toto, as much as life. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 4.30 p.m., September 13th, 1843._ - -Where are you? What are you about, my adored one?[89] In what condition -is your family? What state are you in yourself? what will happen to us -all in our despair, if God be not merciful to us! Since you left me I -can think only of your arrival at home. I imagine the scene: the -despairing sobs of your children, the expression of your own frightful -grief, so long and sternly repressed. All those tears and sufferings -fall back upon my heart and rend it. I cannot bear more. My poor head is -on fire and my hands burn like live coals. I want to pray and cannot; -all my faculties, all my being, turn to you. I would give my life to -spare you a single pang. I would have sacrificed myself in this world, -and the next to save your adored child. My God, what will become of me -if you stay away much longer, when I have refrained with such difficulty -from sending to get news of you? I have begged Madame Lanvin to come to -me this afternoon and bring her husband, so that if, as I fear, I have -not seen you before then, he can go and ask for news of you under the -name of Monsieur St. Hilaire. My heart aches, my poor treasure, when I -think of all you are enduring. I feel I cannot much longer bear not -seeing you. I shall commit some act of folly if you do not come to my -assistance. I exhausted my strength and courage on that awful journey, -and during last night and to-day. I have none left now to endure your -absence. I picture to myself your wife ill, and you also; in fact, I am -like a mad thing in the extremity of my anxiety and grief. I am trying -to occupy myself mechanically, in order to bring nearer the moment when -I shall see you, but my efforts only make every minute of waiting seem -like a century, and all the fears my heart anticipates, become frightful -realities against which I cannot struggle. My adored Victor, whatever be -your despair, mine is greater still; for I feel it through my love, -which makes it a hundred times worse and multiplies it beyond all human -calculation. Never has man been so idolised by woman as you are by me, -and the poor angel we mourn knows it and sees it now, as God knows and -sees it, and she will forgive, as He does, I am certain. I think of her, -poor beloved, as an angel of heaven. To her I shall direct my prayers, -that she may give you the strength and courage you need. To her also I -shall address myself in the hour of death, that the good God may take me -with all of you into His Paradise. - -My adored Victor, it is more than five o'clock, and you have not yet -come. What shall I do! What can I think, or rather what am I to fear? We -are in a terrible cycle of misfortune, and God only knows when it will -end. My Victor, before giving way to despair, think of mine, remember -that I love you more than life. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 5.45 p.m., October 8th, 1843._ - -I have been working all the morning my beloved, or rather scribbling on -paper--only to please you, for I doubt whether my labour will be of any -use to you; still, I am trying hard, and if I cannot do _better_, I am -doing _my_ best. I cannot do more. I am trying more especially to forget -no detail, which makes me occasionally note down trivialities, little -futile, insignificant things. My search among our memories is like the -botanising of a child who is as apt to collect couch grass as the more -useful and rarer plants. However, I am doing my best, and better still, -I am obeying you. Would you believe that, although I have been writing -the whole day, I have not yet reached _Auch_.[90] My mind and pen rather -resemble the fantastic equipage we drove thither, but there is less risk -in the present venture. The worst that can happen is that we should -tumble promiscuously into a muck heap of absurdities and nonsense which -leave no bruises, whereas we risked our necks several times in the -course of the thirty-three miles between Tarbes and Auch. - -I should love to see you, my Toto. The day, though filled with joyous -recollections of our journey, has seemed long and sad to me. Nothing can -take the place of one of your embraces. The remembrance of the greatest -happiness cannot weigh against one glance from you. I realise it more -to-day than ever before; therefore, do try and come, my beloved Toto. It -will give me courage and patience to get through the evening. I love you -too much, you see, but I cannot help it; it is no fault of mine. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 7.15 p.m., November, 1843._ - -I think of you my beloved, I desire you, I love you. Ah yes, I love you -my adored Toto, you may be sure of it, for it is God's truth. My little -Claire and I talk of you and nothing but you. We love you and bless you. -The poor little child will not be with me much longer, and I can already -see her poor little face wrinkling up with sorrow; but I try to be -cheerful and to remind her of the fortnight's holiday which will soon -come. We love the pictures of your dear little Toto, and his pretty -home. We gaze at them with eagerness and affection, we are all eyes and -heart. At this moment Claire is reading Ulric's poems,[91] while I am -writing to my beloved Toto with a heart full of gratitude and devotion. -May the happiness you bestow upon me, be yours also, my love! May a just -pride sustain you, for you have saved two souls, the mother's and the -daughter's! I feel ineffable things I dare not express, for fear of -vulgarising them by the mere fact of putting them into words. Do not -delay long ere you come, my darling Toto. If you knew the joy and -radiance you diffuse in this house, you would indeed hasten your steps. -Alas, I am foolish, for have you not children of your own whom you must -also make glad! I am envious of them, but not cruel enough to deprive -them of their bliss--only I beg of them to hurry with their enjoyment, -so that my turn may come. - -Did you give Dd the sachet? Did Toto take back his quince jelly? -Meanwhile, I am giving Suzanne a whole evening to herself, and making my -little rogue read _Le Muse des Familles_. I should love to give you a -good kiss, but I know you will not come for it. You have not the sense -to do so. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 11.15 a.m., July 22nd, 1844._ - -Good morning my beloved, my sweet, my darling little Toto. How are you? -Are you less sad and painfully pre-occupied than yesterday, my adored -one? Alas, it is unlikely ... your grief and sorrow are not of those -that time can soften. You have the painful faculty of feeling things far -more acutely than do other men. Genius does not only pertain to the -brain, it belongs above all to the heart. My poor dear one, I love you; -I suffer when you suffer; be merciful to us both, I implore you. - -My little Claire went away this morning. She was more resigned than -usual, for she has a holiday of three days in prospect, beginning next -Saturday. The poor little thing is very devoted to us; her sole -happiness is to be with us. She complains of not seeing you often -enough, and I back her up in that. You must try to give us at least one -evening out of the three she will spend at home. Verily I am not very -cheerful company for the poor child when I am alone with her. I am so -absorbed in my love that sometimes I do not speak to her twice in the -day, however much I try to bring myself to do so. - -I have copied Mry's verses, because I do not wish to deprive -Mademoiselle Dd of his autograph. I can understand her setting store -by it, poor darling, so I shall make a point of returning it to her. -Only (and it is you I am addressing now) you must give me just as many -as you give her. You must not lose your good habits, my darling, for I -am sure it would bring us bad luck. Therefore you must bring me all your -letters as you used to do. I promise to divide them conscientiously with -dear little Dd, and you know quite well that I am a woman of my word. -I adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 4.45 p.m., October 20th, 1844._ - -I have sent to Barbedienne, my adored one, but Suzanne has not yet -returned. I am writing to you meanwhile to make the time hang less -heavy. I hope to goodness I may be able to procure that lovely -medal![92] Since I have glimpsed the chance of possessing it, I feel my -disappointment would be greater than I could bear, if I failed to get -it. Good God, how slowly that girl walks! Fancy having to trust to legs -like those on such an occasion! I could have gone there and back ten -times, since she went. May the devil fly away with her, or rather, -precipitate her right into the middle of my room with his cloven foot, -providing only that she brings the longed-for medal! - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN 1846. - -Bust by Victor Vilain (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -Here she is! Ah! Victor, do not be angry! Victor, I am at your -feet--Victor, I will be reasonable for the whole of the rest of my life -if only you will let me add 15 fr. to the sum you promised me. Oh, -Victor, I have not time to wait for your answer and yet I fear to annoy -you. Ah, no, you are too kind to be angry with your poor Juju who loves -you with such absolute admiring, devoted love! You will look at her with -your gentle, ineffable smile, and say I was right--surely, yes, you -will. Three cheers for Toto! Juju is a clever woman ... at heart. Yes, -it is quite true and I am the happiest of women. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 9.30 a.m., September, 1845._ - -I have just been gardening, beloved. I am soaked with dew and all muddy, -but I have spent three hours thinking of you without any bitterness. My -eyes were as moist as my flowers, but I was not weeping. While I busied -myself with the garden, I reviewed in thought the lovely flowers of my -past happiness. I saw them again fresh and blooming as the first day, -and I felt close to you, separated only by a breath. As long as the -illusion lasted I was almost happy. I should have liked to pluck my soul -and send it to you as a nosegay. Perhaps what I am saying is silly, yet -it is the sort of nonsense that can only issue direct from the -tenderest, most passionate heart that ever lived. For nearly thirteen -years past, I have never once written to you without feeling my hand -tremble and my eyes fill. When I speak of you, no matter to whom, my -heart swells as if it would burst through my lips. When I am dead, I am -certain that the imprint of my love will be found on my heart. It is -impossible to worship as I do without leaving some visible trace behind -when life is over. - -My beloved Victor, let your thoughts dwell with me, so that my days may -seem shorter and less dreary; and do try to surprise me by coming -to-night. Oh, how happy I shall be if you do that! - -Meanwhile, I love you more than I can say. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 a.m., September 27th, 1845._ - -Good morning my beloved, my soul, my life, my adored Victor. How are -you? I hope yesterday did not tire you too much. I forgot until you -reminded me that you have been forbidden to walk much, but I do trust it -did you no harm; did it, Victor darling? As for me I felt no fatigue, I -seemed to have wings. I should have liked to place my feet on all the -paths we traversed together eleven years ago, to kiss the very stones of -the roads and the leaves on the trees, and to pick all the flowers in -the woods, so keenly did I fancy they were the very same that watched us -pass together all those years ago. I gazed at you my adored Victor, and -in my eyes you were as young and handsome, nay handsomer even, than -eleven years ago. I looked into my heart and found it full of the same -ecstasy and adoration that animated it the first day I loved you. -Nothing was changed in us or about us. The same ardent, devoted, sad and -sweet affection in our hearts, the same autumn sun and sky above our -heads, the same picture in the same frame; nothing had changed in eleven -years. I would have given a decade of my life to stand alone for ten -minutes in that house that has sheltered our memories for so long. I -should like to have carried away ashes from the fireplace, dust from -the floors. I should have liked to pray and weep, where once I prayed -and wept, to have died of love on the spot where once I accepted your -soul in a kiss. I had to exercise superhuman self-control not to -perpetrate some act of folly in the presence of that girl who showed us -so indifferently over a house I could have purchased at the price of -half the rest of my life. Fortunately, thanks to her profound ignorance -of our identity, she noticed nothing, and we were each able to bring -away a tiny relic of our former happiness. Mine must be buried with me -when I die. - -Beloved, did you work late last night? It was very imprudent of you if -you did, after the fatigue you underwent during the day. To-day, you -must be very careful and not walk much. I shall be extremely stern with -you. My antiquarian propensities shall not make me forget, like -yesterday, that you are still convalescent and must hardly walk at all. -And you will obey me, because little Totos must always obey little -Jujus, as you know. - -Kiss me, my adored Victor, and may God bless you for all the happiness -you give me. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 9 p.m., May 2nd, 1846._ - -I cannot nerve myself to the realisation that I shall not see you this -evening my sweet adored beloved; yet it is all too true. This is the -first time in fourteen years that I have not slept in a room belonging -to you.[93] Consequently I am feeling quite forlorn. Everything -conspires to harrow me. Just now when I left you I longed for death, and -the tears I drove from my eyes trickled inwardly to my sad heart. If -this anxiety about my child, and the separation from you, are to last -long, I do not think I shall have strength to endure them. I am vexed -and disgusted at the tone of those about me. I am ashamed and indignant -at my inability to remove myself from it, however I may try; then when I -remember you, so generous, so loyal, so noble, so kind and indulgent, my -bitterness evaporates and nothing remains in my heart but admiration, -gratitude, and love for your divine and fascinating self. - - * * * * * - -When I got back, I found my child in a raging fever. I gave her fresh -compresses, and now she is sleeping. God grant she may do so all night, -and that the change of ideas and surroundings and air may have a good -effect upon her health. I shall in that case have less cause to grudge -the sacrifices I am voluntarily making to that end. Meanwhile, I am a -prey to fearful anxiety, and am suffering the uttermost from the absence -of what I love best in this world, above life, above duty, above -everything. Good-night, beloved. Think of me. Sleep well, and love me. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 3.45 p.m., 1846._ - -I love you, my Victor. Between every letter of those five sweet words -there lurk depths of maternal anguish and sorrow. Gloomy reflections -mingle with my tenderest thoughts. My life at this moment is divided -between my poor little daughter whom I already mourn in anticipation, -(for I feel that these few days of illness are but snatched from -Eternity), and my adoration for you, from which no preoccupation, even -of the most terrible and sinister character, can long distract me. On -the contrary, my love is all the greater for the trials and sufferings -God sends me. I love you selflessly, as if I myself were already over -the border. My heart is racked, yet I adore you. - -Claire's condition is the same as yesterday; only the weakness, which, -but for the doctor's plain warning I might have attributed to the heat, -has increased. The night was not very bad; the poor little thing suffers -hardly at all. She seems to have no firmer hold on life than life has -upon her. Apathy and profound indifference characterise her illness. -Only her father has the power to rouse her for the few moments he is -with her. He came this morning and happened to meet the doctor,[94] who, -it appears, is not quite so despondent as Monsieur Triger;[95] but what -does that prove? - -I have not been able to get her up at all to-day. She lay in bed in a -state of profuse and constant perspiration. The various tonics she takes -fail to produce any effect whatever. The exhaustion increases hour by -hour, which means that death is coming nearer. I pray, but I obtain -neither solace nor confidence. The good God disdains my prayers and -rejects them, I know--yet I love and admire Him in His beneficent, -lofty, noble, generous and beautiful works. - -I love Him as His saints and angels in Heaven love Him. What more can I -do to find favour in His eyes? He deprived me of my mother at my birth; -now He is about to snatch my child from me. Is that His justice? I do -not want to blaspheme, but I am very miserable, and if I do not see you, -if you cannot come to-day, I do not know what will become of me. Despair -fills my soul, but I love you. God may crush my heart if He so wills, -but the last breath from it shall be a cry of love for you, my sublime -beloved. - -JULIETTE. - - -_April 29th, 9 a.m., 1847._ - -Good morning, my adored Victor. My thoughts and soul and heart go out to -you in this greeting. I hope I shall see you before you go to the -rehearsal, for if I do not, I shall have to wait till this evening, -which would increase my depression. From now until the anniversary of -the terrible day on which I lost my poor child, every hour and minute is -punctuated by the recollection of the sufferings of that poor little -thing, and of the anguish I went through. They are painful memories, -impossible to exclude from my thoughts. Last night while I lay sleepless -I seemed to hear her, and in my dreams I saw her again as she looked at -the close of her illness. I am worn out this morning. All the pangs and -fatigues of the last moments of her life weigh down my heart and limbs. -It may be that I shall find comfort in prayer, and I shall pray better -by her side, buoyed up by the hope that she will hear me and obtain for -me resignation enough to bear her absence without murmur or bitterness. -It was you who gave me the courage to live. All that a heart can gain -from consolation, I found in your love; but there is a grief surpassing -all others and beyond human aid, for which only God can provide, and to -Him I must address myself to-day. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8 a.m., May 6th, 1847._ - -Good morning, my all, my greatly loved Toto. How are you this morning? -Did you gather in a good harvest of glances, smiles and flattery -yesterday from the women you met? Were you the cause of many incipient -passions, or were you yourself ensnared by those females, like any -beardless student or bald-headed peer of the realm? Tell me, how are you -after your evening at Court? For my part, I have a very sore throat and -am feeling fearfully cross. I have a longing to scratch which I should -love to vent upon the face of some woman or even upon yours--or better -still, upon both. I am sick of playing the gentle, sheep-like woman. I -intend to become as fierce as a hyena, and to make your life and -everything depending upon it a burthen to you. I mean to make a terrible -example of you, so that people shall say as you pass by, that it is a -woman who has been outraged, but a Juju who has avenged herself! -Meanwhile, to begin with, I am going to wrest from you somehow, two silk -dresses, a lovely hat, two pairs of smart shoes; and if you do not -confess your crime, I will punish you to the tune of torrents of -tea-gowns, pocket-handkerchiefs, and silk stockings. I am capable of -anything if you drive me too far. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 12.45 p.m., June 6th, 1848._ - -The more I think of all that is going on in Paris at this moment, my -beloved, the less do I desire the success of your election.[96] We must -let this frenzy of the populace which knows not what it wants and is in -no condition to distinguish the true from the false, or evil from good, -exhaust itself first. When it is worn out with turning in its own -vicious circle of disorder, violence, and misery, it will come to heel -and humbly crave the assistance of incorruptible, strong, sane -politicians, among whom you are the most incorruptible, the strongest, -and the sanest. I say this in the simplicity of my heart, without any -pretension to be other than a mere woman who loves you above all things, -and trembles lest you should enter upon some undertaking that might -jeopardise your life without saving your country. Therefore I pray that -this candidature, to which you have been driven in self-sacrifice and -generosity, may not succeed. If I am unpatriotic, I accept the blame, -but I do think that in this instance my feeling is in accord with the -best interests of France. It would not be the first time that the heart -has proved cleverer than the brain. It has happened too often in my case -for me to marvel. Pending our next meeting, I kiss you from my soul, I -adore you with all my strength. - -JULIETTE. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO, RPUBLICAIN. - -Political caricature, 1848.] - -_Monday, 9 a.m., July 9th, 1849._ - -I am hurrying, my love, for I wish to be at the door of the Assemble at -noon precisely, in order to secure a good place.[97] I wish the great -moment had arrived, for I am already feeling stage-fright, and it will -go on increasing until I see you descend from the tribune. I thought -this morning that I could not experience any other sensation than -happiness at seeing you, but now I begin to understand what fear is. Yet -when I say fear, I am hardly correct; for I mean something more -indefinite, which is rather the suspense before a great joy, than the -stupid emotion of cowardice or funk. In any case, I am very agitated; I -wander aimlessly about the house, and feel as if the longed-for moment -would never arrive. My blessed love, my great Victor, my sublime -beloved, I kiss in spirit your noble forehead with its generous -thoughts, your beautiful eyes so gentle and powerful, your fascinating -mouth, which has the happiness of speaking all your divine thoughts. I -prostrate myself before the most beautiful and most sublime thing in the -whole world, namely, your dear little person and your profound genius. - -I do not ask you to think of me before your speech, adored one, but -afterwards I entreat you to spare me one glance to complete my -happiness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 12.30, February 6th, 1850._ - -Think of me, my adored one, and do not permit yourself to be ensnared by -the mercenary blandishments of that woman.[98] I am in the throes of a -jealousy so terrible, that the hardest heart would be moved to pity, -and the most intrepid would fear me; for I am suffering, and I am -capable of anything to avenge a despicable treachery. Alas, my poor -adored one, this is not what I should like to say, or what I ought to -say. I realise that threats are powerless to hold you. I believe if the -statistics of infidelity could be drawn up like those of crime, it would -be shown that the severe penalties of the code of love are more apt to -drive lovers into breaches of its laws than to bind them together. I am -sure of it, and I wish I could convert my natural ferocity into bland -indifference, in order to remove from you the stimulant of a forbidden -Rachel; but it is no good--I shall never manage it. Therefore, I implore -you for the sake of your personal safety and mine, to be honourable and -prudent in your dramatic relations with that dangerous and perfidious -Jewess. Try not to prolong your literary and theatrical consultation -beyond the strictly necessary limits, and to come and fetch me before -three o'clock. - -I should be so grateful to you, my adored little man, for you would thus -abridge the moments of my torment. Meanwhile I am very unhappy and -anxious and worried. I try to hearten myself up by remembering the last -promises you made me. When do you intend to keep them, I wonder? God -knows! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 a.m., April 6th, 1850._ - -Good morning, my adored one, my sublime beloved. How are you? Did you -have a better night, or did fatigue and excitement prevent you from -sleeping? When I think of the admirable speech, so religious in -character, so noble, self-abnegating, and conciliating, that you -delivered yesterday[99] at the risk of your health, and then reflect -upon the senseless uproar, and idiotic and violent interruptions it -provoked, I feel only hatred, contempt, and disgust, for political life. -It is revolting that a man like you should be the butt of the -irresponsibility of all the parties. It is hateful, abominable, -infamous, that scoundrels without talent, wit, or feeling should dare -argue with you and should be accorded an attentive hearing where you -only meet with insults. Really, my treasure, the more I see of political -life, the more I regret the time when you were simply the _poet_ Victor -Hugo, my sublime love, my radiant lover. I revere your courage and -devotion, but I am hurt in my tenderest feelings when I see you -delivered over to the beasts of an arena a thousand times less -discriminating than that of ancient Rome. Therefore, my beloved Victor, -I have conceived a loathing, not only for your antagonists, but also for -the form of government which imposes this Sisyphus life upon you. If I -had the power to change it, I can assure you I should not hesitate, even -if I had to deprive you for ever of your rights of citizenship. -Unfortunately, I can do nothing beyond cordially detesting those who -obstruct your work. I pity you, bless you, admire you, and love you with -all my soul. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 3 p.m., June 29th, 1850._ - -I have just watched you go with inexpressible sadness, my sweet and -beautiful beloved. With you have departed the sunshine, the flowers, -the pleasant thoughts, the hopes that link past happiness with future -bliss. Nought remains to me but my love, a poor hermit whose regrets -have been her sole bedfellows this long time. When you turned the corner -of the street, something luminous, soft, and sweet, seemed to die within -me. From that moment I have been as depressed and desolate as if a great -misfortune had befallen me. Alas, it is in fact the misfortune that -weighs down my whole life, namely, your absence. Since politics have -monopolised your time, happiness has eluded my grasp. Will it ever -return? I doubt it, hence my despair. I am greatly to be commiserated, -my beloved, in that I have constituted your eyes my illumination, your -smile my joy, your words my bliss, your love my life--so that when you -are away, all these are simultaneously snatched from me. I am not -certain of seeing you to-night, still less to-morrow. What is to become -of me? What am I to do with this poor body bereft of its soul when you -are not by? Tell me if you can. Explain if you dare. Meanwhile, I adore -you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 10 p.m., July 7th, 1851._ - -What I had foreseen has happened, my beloved, even sooner and more -painfully than I had feared. Does this fresh crisis foreshadow my speedy -recovery? I dare not hope it, for I feel that my disease is incurable. I -tell you so in the frankness of my despair. I neither can nor will -deceive you, beloved, and my anxiety, far from diminishing, augments -with every minute. I am suffering the torment of the most humiliating -and poignant jealousy. I know that for seven years you have _adored_ a -woman you think beautiful, witty and accomplished.[100] I know that but -for her sudden treachery,[101] she would still be your preferred -mistress. I know that you introduced her into your family-circle, that -she is of your world, that you can meet her at any moment, that you -promised her you would continue your intimacy with her, at all events -outwardly. All this I know--yet you expect me to feel my own position -secure! Surely I should need to be idiotic or insane to do that. Alas, I -happen to be instead a very clear-sighted, miserable woman. - - -_Midnight._ - -Beloved, thanks to you and thanks to your tender perseverance and -inexhaustible kindness, I am once more, and this time for ever I hope, -the sensible, sanguine, happy Juju of the good old days. But if I am to -be quite as I was then, you must suffer no longer, my little man--you -must be as strong as three Turks, and love me as much as a hundred -Swiss-guards. On those conditions I shall be happy! happy!! happy!!!, -but pending that great day, try to sleep soundly to-night, not to be -unwell to-morrow, and to forgive me for loving you too much. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 p.m., July 26th, 1851._ - -I trust you, my beloved, and believe everything you say. I yield my soul -to the hopes of happiness you have held out to me. My heart is full of -love and security. I love you, I am happy, I am at peace, I forget all I -have suffered. I remember only the tender, loyal, encouraging words you -uttered just now. Felicity has succeeded despair--I quit hell and enter -Paradise. I love you and you love me, nothing can be sad any more. You -will see how I shall resume my interest in life, how I shall smile, how -happy I shall be, and what confidence I shall have in you. I do not know -whether we shall be able to carry out all the adorable plans you -sketched just now, but I experienced great happiness in anticipation -while I watched you making them, and knew myself so closely associated -with them. I felt as if all my past sorrows were transfigured into -happiness to come. I listened, and my heart was filled with joy. Thank -you, my Victor, thank you, my beloved. Do not be anxious about me any -more; now that you love me I shall get well. I shall be happy again, you -will see. I am beginning already, so as to lose no time in rewarding you -for your goodness and gentleness and patience. I am awaiting you with my -sweetest smiles, my tenderest caresses. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 12.45 p.m., July 28th, 1851._ - -This is the hour I begin to expect you, my Victor; each second that lags -past with the slowness of eternity crushes my hopes as quickly as I -conceive them. What is to become of me all this wretched day if I may -not see you? Oh, I thought myself stronger, braver, more resigned; but -now I see I have used up all my strength in the horrible struggle I -have been going through this last month. What will happen to me, shut up -here, all alone with that terrible anniversary, the 28th June, 1851? How -can I evade its ghastly grip, how keep myself from suicide, from the -desperate hankering after death? Oh, God, how I suffer! I implore you, -do not leave me alone here to-d....[102] - - -_Midnight._ - -This letter, which was begun in delirium and mad jealousy has ended, -thanks to you my ineffable beloved, in the happy calm of confidence and -the sacred joy of love shared. May you be blest, my Victor, as much as -you are respected, venerated, adored, and admired by me--then you will -have nothing further to desire in this world or the next. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 a.m., August 2nd, 1851._ - -Good morning, man that I love; good morning, with all my joy and smiles -and soul and happiness and love, if you had a good night and are well. I -felt sure your dear Charles' depression could not stand against an hour -of your gentle and persuasive philosophy. You have the marvellous art of -extracting good from evil, and consolation from despair, and there is -irresistible magic in your eyes and smile; your every word is full of -seduction. I, who only linger in this life in the hope of seeing you -every day, should know something of that. What the joys of eternity in -Paradise may be I cannot tell, but I would sacrifice them all for one -minute of your true love. My Victor, my Victor, I love you. You will see -how sensible I am going to be, and how I shall give way to all the -exigencies of your work, and the consideration required by your position -as a political personage. I am ready, my Victor; dispose of me how you -will; whether happy or unhappy, I shall bless you. I trust the bad -atmosphere you were compelled to breathe for several hours yesterday did -not injure your throat. I am eagerly awaiting this afternoon to learn -this, and to see you. Until then, I love you, I love you, I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday morning, September 12th, 1851._ - -Good morning, and forgive me my poor sweet beloved, for nothing was -further from my thoughts than to torment you as I involuntarily did -yesterday. My foolishness does not include malice, and I respect you -even in my most violent bouts of despair. Besides, you had just been -telling me something that ought to increase my clinging to life, namely, -my responsibility for your tranquillity, your fortune, your genius and -existence. Without accepting in its entirety this exaggerated view of my -own importance in the grave situation you find yourself in, my -persecuted love, I have grasped that I should be unworthy of the -position, were I to allow my troubles to weigh in the balance, against -your safety. Therefore, my Victor, you have nothing to fear from me, so -long as my poor brain retains a glimmer of reason, and my wretched heart -a scrap of confidence in your loyalty. - -I spent part of the night reading over your old letters, especially -those of _May 1844_,[103] and I shed more tears over your desecrated -tenderness and sullied affection, than you can have squandered kisses -upon that woman, during the seven years of your treachery to me. If life -could escape through the eyes, my sufferings would long ere this be -terminated; but like sorrow, the soul is not so quickly exhausted, -though God only knows where it finds sustenance. As for me, my adored -one, I love you without being able either to live or to be healed. I am -ashamed of my incurability, and I gratefully compassionate the -superhuman efforts you make to restore me to courage. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 10.45 p.m., October 23rd, 1851._ - -You know my dear little man, that I need no encouragement to give way to -epistolary intemperance. When time permits, I am always ready to fling -myself unrestrainedly into a sea of lucubrations without sense or end. -But this time I have more than a mere pretext for giving rein to my -harmless mania; I have two days full of the most radiant joy and -happiness that could befall a woman who lives only by and for her love. -Whole volumes would not suffice to enumerate and describe them, and even -your sublime genius would not be too great to express the splendid -poetry of them. I felt as if a little winged soul sprang from each one -of our embraces and flew heavenward with cries of jubilation and joy. -Your love penetrated my soul and warmed it, as the rays of the sun -pierce through the fogs and melancholy of autumn, and reach the earth -to console it and lay the blessed seed of hope within her womb. I -rejoiced in the bliss, watered by tears, that precedes and follows love -and sunshine, in that season of life and nature. Though my heart is -bestrewn with the dead leaves of past illusions, I feel new sap rising -within it, which awaits only your vivifying breath to bring forth the -flowers and fruits of love. - -My adored Victor, my soul overflows with the accumulated joys of those -two days of life by your side under the eye of God. I relieve myself as -best I can by pouring out the surplus of my enchantment upon this paper. -Sleep well, my adored one, I love you and bless you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8 a.m., November 6th, 1851._ - -Good morning, my sweetheart, my adored one. I wish my kisses had wings, -that you might find them on your pillow at your awakening. If you only -knew how much I love you, you would understand that for me there is -life, heart, and soul, only in you, by you, and for you. Yesterday when -I passed your old house in the Place Royale, all the memories of our -love and happiness awoke again within me. I stood awhile before it, -caressing its threshold with my eyes, fingering the knocker, pushing the -door ajar to peer in, as I should look at the inside of a reliquary, or -touch some sacred object. Then I went into the garden to gaze up at the -windows whence you sometimes looked down upon me. I wandered all about -the district in the same sweet, sad tremor I experience when I read over -your old love-letters. I traced our past happiness upon every stone of -the pavement, at every street-corner, on the shop-signs--everywhere I -found memories of our kisses among those surroundings where I enjoyed -happiness for so long, where you loved me and I adored you--where, eight -years ago, I would gladly have lain me down to die if God had left me -the choice. - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Wednesday, 1 p.m., December 17th, 1851_. - -Beloved one, I wish the first sheet of paper I use, the first word I -write, in this hospitable country, to be a message of love from me to -you. It is surely the least I can do, since my every thought, my life -and heart and soul, pass through you before reaching the common objects -of this world and returning to me. Is it indeed possible that you are -safe, my poor treasure, and that I have nothing further to fear for your -life or liberty? Is it true that you love me, and that you deign to rely -upon me in the difficult passages of life? Is it conceivable that I am -henceforth happy and blest among women, and that I have the right to -raise my head and bask openly in the sunlight of love and -self-sacrifice! Ah, God, I thank Thee for all the gifts and joys and -blessings Thou dost bestow upon me to-day, in the revered and adored -person of my sublime beloved! All my efforts shall be directed towards -deserving them more and more. All my gratitude is for Thee, my God! - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Wednesday, 3.30 p.m., December 17th, 1851_. - -Do not worry about me, my beloved, for I never love you better or more -tranquilly than when I know you are attending to your family duties and -busying yourself with securing the peace and comfort of your wife and -children. Pray devote yourself entirely to the service of your noble -wife for the time of her sojourn here. Do not deny her any of the little -pleasures that may divert her mind from the heavy trials she has just -undergone. Let my resignation and courage, my consideration and -devotion, help to smooth the rough places of life for her as long as she -remains with you. Give her all the consolation and joy in your power. -Lavish upon her the respect and affection she deserves, and do not fear -ever to wear out my patience and trust in you. - -I see you coming my adored one. Bless you. - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Monday, 3.30 p.m., January 19th, 1852._ - -I had set myself a task, beloved, before writing to you, in order to -earn that sweet reward. I have just completed it, and without further -delay I proceed with my insignificant vapourings, in the intervals of -copying two most interesting stories. I am not writing for your benefit, -but for the pleasure it gives me to babble a few tender words to you in -default of the kisses and caresses I cannot give you at this distance. - -My Victor, as you do not wish me to be sad, and hate to feel that I am -unhappy, and dread the sight of my pain, you must adopt the habit of -telling me everything frankly and under all circumstances. Your -deceptions, however trivial and kindly meant, hurt me far more than the -harshest of truths (if you were capable of harshness towards any -creature). I declare this without bitterness and in the form of an -appeal, my beloved. Do not hide anything from me. Try to manage that -your answers to the admiring letters certain women address to you, -should be written at my house rather than elsewhere. Do not delay -telling me things until I have guessed them for myself, or circumstances -have betrayed them. No hints can be unimportant where jealousy is -concerned, and there is no happiness without complete confidence. -Therefore, my beloved, I implore you with all the urgency my soul is -capable of, to tell me everything--even the ownership of those _opera -glasses_, and about the _Hgelmann_ notes, of which I have several here, -forwarded from Belle-le, and certain names and addresses; and about -those actresses you protect with so much solicitude, and the -machinations of the bluestockings who apply to you for mysterious -nocturnal interviews, under pretext of enlisting your pity or your -literary sympathy--about Mdlle. Constance, too, in spite of her -significant name and reassuring age. I want to know everything--I must -know everything, if you are really concerned for my peace of mind, and -health, and happiness. Then I shall become calm, patient, happy; my -pulse will beat evenly, I shall grow fat and smiling. Does not all that -make it worth while for you to be frank, loyal, and ever faithful -towards me? - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Monday, 1 p.m., March 22nd, 1852_. - -You may give me something to copy for you now if you like. I have nearly -finished that foolish scrawl, so if you want to utilise my time, you can -send me anything you like. I am quite at your disposal. Meanwhile, I am -mending your underlinen and my own, and watching the clouds sail above -my narrow horizon. I envy them without having the courage to follow -their example and allow myself to be driven by chance winds or caprice. -I am too lazy, bodily and mentally, to move. I recline in my chimney -corner, cosily humped up, and my soul lies torpid within me. I am not -exactly unhappy, neither am I sad in the true meaning of the word--but I -am uneasy and depressed. I feel a threatening influence in the -atmosphere about me. What it is, I cannot precisely say, but I am under -some evil thrall. I am sure there is a mystery between us that you are -trying to conceal, and that fate will force me to discover sooner or -later. Perhaps it would be safer not to try to hide things from me--it -would certainly be more loyal and generous; but as neither prayers nor -tears can induce you to give me your full confidence, I will await my -fate with resignation. After all, as long as you arrange your life to -suit your own feelings and tastes, I have no right to complain. I have -never meant to force myself upon you in any case; therefore, my Victor, -whatever happens, you may be sure I shall place no obstacle in the way -of your happiness and glory. I love you with all the pride of my -inferiority. - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Sunday morning, July 18th, 1852_. - -Good-morning, my Victor. I will do exactly as you like. So long as my -love is not called into question, what does it matter how, and when, my -body changes its _habitat_ and moves from Brussels to Jersey? Therefore, -my Victor, I make no objection to starting at the same time as you. -Between the pain of a twenty-four hours' separation, and the -mortification of travelling with you as a total stranger, my poor heart -would find it hard to choose. It is quite natural that I should -sacrifice myself to appearances, and respect the presence of your sons -by this painful incognito, but it seems cruelly unjust and ironical that -it should be required of my devotion and fidelity and love, when it was -never thought of in the case of that other woman, whose sole virtue -consisted in possessing none. For her, the family doors were always -open, the deference and courteous protection of your sons exacted; your -wife extended to her the cloak of her consideration, and accepted her as -a friend, a sister, and more. For her, indulgence, sympathy, -affection--for me, the rigorous application of all the penalties -contained in the code of prejudice, hypocrisy, and immorality. Honours -for the shameless vices of the society lady--only indignities for the -poor creature who sins through honest devotion and love. It is quite -simple. Society must be considered. I will leave for Jersey when and how -you will. - -I am quite ready to copy for Charles. I fear he may find my bad writing -more tiresome than useful, but I shall do my best, and I will get some -better pens. He had better send me the manuscript as soon as possible. -From now till then I am, my Victor, at your absolute disposal. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Thursday, 9 a.m., December 2nd, 1852_. - -Good morning, my divine, adored love. When one considers what the -infamous trap laid for you on December 2nd has inspired you to write, -one is tempted to give thanks to Providence. It almost seems as if that -dastardly crime had been committed for the aggrandisement of your -renown, and the better instruction of the nations. I do not think any -scoundrel will ever be found bold enough to repeat the offence, after -reading your fulminating poems. Just a year ago, on this day and at this -hour, I learnt the news of the _Coup d'tat_ through poor Dillon. -Knowing how closely it concerned me, the worthy creature rushed to my -house from the Faubourg St. Germain to warn me, and place her services -at my disposal, which meant at yours, for she is a brave, noble woman. -From that moment until the day I received your dear letter from Brussels -announcing your safety, I lived in a state of nightmare. I only woke -again to life and happiness when I found myself in your arms on the -morning of December 14th in the Customs shed at Brussels. Since then, my -beloved Victor, my sublime Victor, I have never let a day pass without -thanking God for rescuing you so miraculously, nor have I ceased for one -minute to admire and adore you. - -JULIETTE. - -[Illustration: DRAWING BY VICTOR HUGO, SIGNED "TOTO." - -Unpublished, belonging to the Author.] - -[Illustration: THE FLOWER AND THE BUTTERFLY. - -Drawing by Victor Hugo for Juliette (Victor Hugo Museum).] - - -JERSEY, -_Friday, 9 a.m., December 3rd, 1852_. - -Good morning, my life, my soul, my joy, my happiness. - -Dear adored one, from yesterday until the 14th of this month, there is -not a moment that does not recall to me the dangers you were exposed to -a year ago,[104] and the terrors and inexpressible anguish I endured all -through those awful ten days. A year ago, at this very hour of the -morning, you stood in the Faubourg St. Antoine, alone, holding and -challenging a frantic mob lost to all sense of reason and restraint. I -can see you now, my poor beloved, calling upon the soldiers to remember -their duty and their honour, threatening the generals, withering them -with your contempt. You were terrible and sublime. You might have been -the Genius of France witnessing in an agony of bitter despair, the -accomplishment of the most cowardly and despicable of crimes. It is an -absolute miracle that you escaped alive from that spot which echoed with -the solitary force of your heroic fury. When I think of it I still feel -terrified and dazzled. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Saturday, 8 a.m., November 27th, 1852_. - -Good morning, my poor flayed, mutilated darling. How I pitied you -yesterday during the long-drawn-out massacre of your masterpiece,[105] -which however, like an Immortal, emerged from the ordeal finer and in -better fettle than ever. As for me, my treasure, I could only admire and -envy your heroic impassivity in the face of that frightful profanation. -I could hardly sit still, so vexed and irritated did I feel at the -audacity of those wretched strolling mountebanks. Yet Heaven knows how -hard they must have worked to be even as ridiculous as they were. One -cannot be really angry with them, but it is impossible to recall them -individually without laughing till the tears run down one's cheeks. That -is what I have been doing ever since I came out of that horrible little -theatre, for I did not sleep very much. My thoughts were busy with you, -my adored one; I was seeing you again in imagination, handsome, young, -triumphant, as you were at the original performance of your _Anglo_. I -felt all the tenderness and adoration of those old days surging up again -in my heart. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Monday, 8 a.m., December 29th, 1852_. - -Good morning, my too-dearly loved little man. I am cleverer than you, -for I do not need lenses, paper, chemicals, and sunshine, to reproduce -you in every form within my heart. Love is a splendid stereoscope; it -throws all the photographs and daguerreotypes in the world, into the -shade. It can even, if the need exist, convert black jealousy into white -confidence, and force into relief the smallest modicum of happiness, -the slightest mark of love. That being so, I hardly know why I desire so -ardently to multiply your dear little pictures around me, unless it is -that I wish to compare them with those of my inner shrine. Whatever be -the reason, I do implore you, my dear little man, to give me one as soon -as possible; it will be such a pleasure to me. Meanwhile my poor -persecuted hero, I cannot tell what trials the future may have in store -for you, but as long as a breath of life remains within me, I mean to -expend it in defending, guarding, and serving you. My faith in the power -of my love amounts to superstition; I feel that so long as I care for -you, nothing irretrievably bad can happen to you. This is neither pride -nor fatuousness on my part; it is a sort of intuition that comes to me, -I think, from Heaven above. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_9 p.m., Thursday, January 6th, 1853_. - -If the soul could take visible shape, you would perceive mine at this -moment, my sweet adored one, bending over you and smiling. If kisses had -wings, you would feel them swooping about your dear little person in -clouds, like joyous birds upon a beautiful flowering bush. -Unfortunately, my soul and kisses have to pass and repass before you -invisible, and perhaps even unsuspected by you. But that does not deter -me, and I am drawn irresistibly to you by the need of living in your -atmosphere. My thoughts sit boldly at your side wherever you are. -However my chastened personality may bend under the contempt and -disdain of the world, my love rears itself proudly in the consciousness -of its superiority. While you leave my body standing outside, it enters -hardily with you and leaves you not. This may not be very tactful of me, -but it is the mark of an ardent and loyal heart. And after all we are -living "on an Island." I can see you, making eyes at your neighbour on -the left, and signalling to the one opposite. I want you to be mine -absolutely, body and soul, and I do not mean to share one little bit of -you with anybody. You must make up your mind to that, and content -yourself with enjoying the cosmopolitan cookery of that Hungarian -Lucullus.[106] I will allow you to gorge like four Englishmen and drink -like one Pole, but I shall not take my eyes off you and shall watch your -every movement. I think you laugh a great deal for a grave man with a -handsome mouth, and your hands are enough to bring a blush of envy to -the paws of all those exiled females! They suffer by comparison--so much -the better! Hold your tongue, drink, turn your head my way at once, and -keep it there. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Tuesday, 12.30 p.m., February 1st, 1853_. - -I really mean what I said just now, my dear little boy. Instead of -posing interminably in front of the daguerreotype,[107] you could quite -well have taken me for a walk if you had wanted to. Anyhow, pretexts for -keeping away from me will never fail you, and the fine weather will now -add many to those already on your list. Therefore I ask you in all good -faith, what use am I to you in this island, apart from my functions of -copyist? I do not wish to reopen this eternal discussion in which you -never tell me the truth, yet I shall never cease to protest against a -state of things so foreign to true love, and so little conducive to my -happiness. And now, my dear little man, you may amuse yourself, and make -daguerreotypes, and enjoy the glorious sunshine in your own way. I, for -my part, shall make use of solitude, desertion, and shadow, to bring to -a head an attack of depression which will easily develop into a great -big sorrow. I shall study how to make the most of it. Meanwhile I smile -prettily at you, after the fashion of a stage dancer executing the final -pirouette which has exhausted her strength and left her breathless. -Brrrr.... Long live Toto! Long live worries and all their kith and kin! -Long live love! - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Thursday, 9 p.m., April 28th, 1853_. - -I come to you, my beloved, as you are unable to return to me this -evening. I come to tell you I love you without regret for the past or -fear for the future. I come to you with a smile on my lips and a -blessing in my bosom, with my hand upon my mutilated heart and my eyes -full of pardon, with my purity restored and my soul redeemed by twenty -years of fidelity and love, with my delusions swept away and my faith -shining. I come to you without rancour, sustained by divine hope. I -come with the maternal devotion and the passionate tenderness of a -lover, with a mind instinct with reverence and admiration, a resignation -and piety like to those of God's martyrs, and I constitute you the -supreme arbiter of my fate. Do with me what you will in this life, so -long as you take me with you in the next. I sacrifice my feelings to the -virtue of your wife and the innocence of your daughter, as a homage and -a safeguard, and I reserve my prayers and tears for poor fallen women -like myself. Lastly, my adored one, I give you my share of Paradise in -exchange for your chances of hell, considering myself fortunate to have -purchased your eternal bliss with my eternal love. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Thursday, 5 p.m., July 7th, 1853_. - -Whatever you may say, my sweet one, to retard the gradual cessation of -my daily yarns, you cannot stay the progress of the natural law, even -when assisted by my passive submission to your will. Why continue this -custom of writing to you twice a day, when the pretext for doing so has -faded from our joint lives? If I were a woman of parts, I could -substitute imagination and shrewd observation for love-making; but as -these are entirely lacking in me, I have nothing to record in those -bulletins where kisses and caresses once occupied the chief place. Now, -when I have said good morning and alluded to the state of the weather, I -have nothing more to say, because I am stupid. Your influence alone can -extract what is in my heart. For this reason, my dear one, these -scribbles became blank and aimless, from the moment the happiness that -once dictated them began to die away and degenerate into a friendship -despoiled of all pleasure and voluptuousness. I do not reproach you, my -adored one, any more than I reproach myself for not being still the -woman you loved beyond everything--still it might be better to -discontinue this daily record of the change, and to give up the piteous -babblings which no longer have even the excuse of wit. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Saturday, 2.30 p.m., September 24th_. - -How one's brain scintillates from living for ever within four walls! -What sparkling and varied incidents one experiences in this existence of -a squirrel in a cage! For my part I am so inspired by it that I hardly -know where to commence. Let us, therefore, proceed in due sequence; my -cat, which has been slumbering for the last two hours on its right ear, -has just turned over on to its left. - -Pre Nicotte, abandoning the ploughshare, announces for Thursday, -September 29th, the sale by auction of three fat hogs, a sow with her -eight sucking pigs, three yearling bulls, another rising two, and other -items too numerous and too peculiar to enumerate. - -Births: August 5th. Blanche Laura, daughter of Mr. Harper Richard Hugo. - -The annual dinner of the Society will take place on the above-mentioned -day. Those intending to be present, and those proposing to furnish fruit -for the same, are urgently requested to send in their names on or -before the preceding Saturday. - -What more do you want? Eleven pigs, not including the sow, three -yearling bulls, not including the one rising two, a daughter of your -own, and permission to invite yourself to a dinner of the Society, and -even to furnish the fruit for it. If all this does not attract you and -stir the very marrow of your bones, and tempt your appetite, you must be -dead to the promptings of sensibility, paternity, and sensuality. In -that case, go to bed and to sleep, and leave me to myself--the more so, -as I do not happen to possess an accommodating table,[108] to furnish me -with ready-made apparitions. Remember, I have to be my own Dante, sop, -and Shakspere, whereas you catch the dead fish that the spirits of the -other world attach to your lines--a proceeding practised in the -Mediterranean long before those tittle-tattling tables were thought of. -Pray accept my most tender sentiments. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Sunday, 10 a.m., January 1st, 1854_. - -I love you so much, my darling, that I cannot find anything else to say -to you. My poor spirit is ready to give way under the weight of too much -love, like a bough bending under an abnormal show of fruit; but my heart -has strength enough to bear without flinching the infinite tenderness, -admiration, and adoration I feel for you. - -What a letter, my adored one! I read it with my heart in my eyes. It -seemed to penetrate word by word like sun-rays into the very marrow of -my bones. My Victor, your hopes are mine, your will, mine, your faith, -mine; I am what you deserve that I should be; I live only for you and in -you. To love you, serve you, reverence you, adore you, are my only -aspirations in this world. Where you are, I shall be; where you -struggle, I shall watch; when you suffer I shall pray, when you are -threatened I will defend you, save you, or die. I tell you all this -pell-mell and anyhow, my adored Victor, for it is impossible for me to -discipline my thoughts when they fly in your direction--they are less -amenable to common sense than to my heart and soul, which are in ecstasy -since this morning. I know not what trials may still be in store for -you, my sublime, persecuted love, but I can answer for my own courage -and devotion to you. Like you I associate our two angels with all my -prayers and hopes and joys and love. I constitute them your guardian -angels and to them I confide your life, that is, mine, your heart, that -is, my happiness. I send you enough kisses to make a connecting-rod from -my mouth to yours. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Monday, 7.30 p.m., July 21st, 1856_. - -It shall not be said that your adored name ever appeared before me in -its dazzling nimbus without being saluted by my heart with a triple -salvo of love, oh, my dearly beloved, and without the outpouring of all -the perfume of my soul at your divine feet. Although I am very tired, -almost ill, I cannot let this day pass without giving you my tenderest, -sweetest, most love-laden greetings. Others may bring you flowers and -pay you handsome compliments, but I offer you twenty-three years of -tried fidelity free of human stain. It is all I have to bestow--it may -be insignificant, but it is my all. Such a thing cannot be bought; it is -accounted among the treasures of God. In His keeping you will find it, -when the gifts of Heaven shall replace those of Earth. Meanwhile, to -show you that I still belong to this sphere, I send you my beautiful -violet robe brocaded with gold; but I specially stipulate that it should -form part of the decoration of your own room, rather than that you -should hang it in the gallery. Still, if you prefer to use it elsewhere -I leave you free to do as you like, for your pleasure is my sole desire. -You must not imagine that my generosity is entirely disinterested, -because that would be a great mistake. I am sure you would not wish to -remain in my debt, and that you will therefore give me a little drawing -for your birthday. This is my request--now bring me your cheeks that I -may kiss them without stint, and do be discreet to-night with the women -who will come to offer you birthday greetings! Keep your heart entire -and intact for me. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Friday, 1.45 p.m., December 12th, 1856._ - -Adored one, I am sending Suzanne to get news of your dear little sick -child.[109] Although night is coming on, I hope I may get a good report; -this weather is enough to give an attack of nerves to anybody at all -disposed that way. You saw Suzanne yourself, my darling, yet someone is -knocking--fancy if it should be you! It is! What happiness! - -How good, how ineffably good you are, dear kind father, to have come -yourself to reassure me about the little feverish symptoms that are -beginning to show themselves to-night in your little girl's condition. -Let us hope they will yield to remedies this time, and that the night -may prove more calm and satisfactory than the day just passed. Meanwhile -thank you with all my heart, thank you with all my soul, for allowing me -to share your family hopes and fears and joys and troubles. Thank you. -If God hears and grants my prayers, as I trust with sacred confidence He -will, your adored child will soon be restored to health and happiness. - -JULIETTE. - -GUERNSEY, -_Monday, 7.30 p.m., April 13th, 1857_. - -If you say another word I shall seize them all,[110] so there! I shall -certainly not place my house, my rooms, my old age, my tables, chairs, -carpets, water, ink, my virtue, great and small, at your disposal, to be -rewarded by seeing masterpieces pass under my very nose on their way to -Teleki, Mademoiselle Alix, and other trollops of her calibre. I must -have some too; castles, moonlight scenes, sunrises, and fog effects. If -you are not prepared for a quarrel, you must give me at least my share. -Ah, here you come! I am not sorry to see you.... - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Saturday, 4 p.m., July 1st, 1857_. - -Darling beloved, I begin my letter in the hope of its being interrupted -shortly, and completed this evening with a lighter heart; but I so need -to love you that I must take the initiative, my adored one. I have just -read the sad, tender poems you gave me to copy. I see you coming.... - -_8.45 p.m._ - -I have just finished copying those adorable verses, so poignant through -their very restraint,[111] and I weep for my own grief as well as yours, -my poor afflicted friends. The shadow which has fallen across your lives -is black night in my case, for all the radiant joys of family life were -wiped out with the death of my only child. When I think of my forlorn -infancy bereft of father and mother, and of what my deathbed will be, -without the loving tears of a child of my own, I feel as if a curse were -laid upon me for the expiation of some hideous crime. Yet, oh God, I am -not ungrateful to Thee, far from it; I feel indeed with the deepest -gratitude of heart and soul how good Thou art! May you be as greatly -blest as you are loved by me, my Victor. You are divinely grand and -sublime. I kiss your dear little feet and your angel's wings. I worship -you on my knees. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Tuesday, 2.30 p.m., July 2nd, 1857_. - -Yes, since you wish to hear it, I love you, my little man; but I could -demonstrate it much more intelligently by working something for you on -canvas, than by daubing this poor little sheet of paper with -hieroglyphics. If perchance death should surprise us before you have -destroyed these crude ebullitions of my heart, inquisitive folk will -experience keen disappointment; they will find it difficult to -distinguish the traces of an overmastering passion in such a petty mind -as mine. I hope you will be provident enough and generous enough to -spare me this humiliation beyond the grave, by burning gradually all -those poor letters that are so ineffective the moment they have crossed -the threshold of my soul. Meanwhile I continue to obey you with entire -submission, and my love for you is greater than your genius--that is to -say, I love you, love you, love you, without being able to find anything -to compare with the magnitude of my infatuation. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Saturday, 8 p.m., December 19th, 1857_. - -Although unwell and fatigued, my beloved Victor, I cannot leave this -little home where we have loved each other, without penning a grateful -farewell for all the felicity it has sheltered during the year I have -lived in it. I trust I may be as happy in my beautiful new house as I -have been here in my hovel. The sadness I feel to-day is nearer akin to -nerves than to real sorrow. Please forgive it, my adored Victor, if you -have misunderstood and thought for a single instant that you were to -blame for it. Far from reproaching you for the difficulties of my -situation, I admire your ineffable kindness and bless you from the -bottom of my heart for all the trouble you are taking to house me -handsomely. It was difficult, but of what are you not capable when you -set your mind to a thing? I think without affecting the false modesty of -a collector, that you have succeeded, and I thank you with all the -strength of my loving soul, which asks no better than to be happy in the -new paradise you have just prepared for me. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Friday, 11 a.m., July 16th, 1858_. - -My beloved, my beloved, my beloved, what sin have we committed that God -should strike us so cruelly in your health and my love! Unless it be a -crime to love you too much, I do not feel guilty of aught. What shall I -do, my God, what will become of me! Victor ill and away from me! I dread -lest, as I write, you should almost hear my sobs and guess at my -despair, from these reckless words. - -I had anticipated this trouble and thought myself able to face it. I -know it is imperatively necessary that you should remain at home, yet my -whole being rebels at this separation as at a cruel injustice, and the -greatest misfortune of my life. Why, why, why am I like this, oh, my -God? Yet I possess courage, Thou knowest! Thou knowest also that I -desire his speedy recovery and love him with a devoted, illimitable -love. My adored Victor! Why then, is the reason of this gloomy and -profound despair which robs me of strength and reason? Oh, God, dost -Thou hate me? Have my offences been graver than those of other women -like me, that Thou shouldst chastise me so mercilessly! Oh, I suffer, -Victor, I love you, I am wretched! - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Saturday, Noon, July 24th, 1858_. - -Another short spell of courage and patience, my poor gentle martyr, and -your deliverance will be complete. The doctor has just assured me so. I -shall soon be able to rejoice at your convalescence without the poignant -dread of a frightful disaster mingling itself with my joy. In the -delirious delight this good news gave me, I kissed the doctor's kindly -hands, which have become sacred to me since they have ministered to you. -The poor man was surprised and moved by my emotion, and looked quite -embarrassed--almost shy of my gratitude--but I was proud of it. Why -should not a woman kiss the hands that have saved the life of the man -she adores, when so many men kiss the idle fingers of the women who -betray them. - -Rosalie arrived a few minutes after the doctor, to fetch your egg, and -found me weeping and smiling. I explained the reason to her. The girl -has surprised me in tears so often that I fear she will take me for a -cry-baby by temperament, though God knows, I do not lay claim to -hyper-sensitiveness. But how could I have remained calm during your -long, painful illness. For, my beloved, one can afford to admit now, -that you have been in grave danger the last twelve days. Happily all is -over, you are saved and I thank God on my knees and adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Wednesday morning, August 4th, 1858_. - -At last, at last, at last, beloved, I have reached the blessed moment -when I shall see you again! I am so happy that words and breath fail me. -Oh, my adored one, how have I managed to live so far away and separated -from you for so long! Three weeks ago I should have thought such a -sacrifice beyond my strength, yet to-day I am almost afraid I am seeing -you too soon; for my solicitude takes fright at the idea of any -imprudence that might augment or prolong the sufferings you have only -just overcome. The worthy doctor assures me there is no risk for you in -the short walk from your house to mine, but I have been so wretched -during your illness, and I love you so much, that my heart knows not to -whom to hearken. My beloved, my joy, my life, my happiness, be prudent! -I adore you, I await you, my love. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Monday, 8 a.m., June 13th, 1859_. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET'S HAND.] - -Good morning, my adored one. I say it with all the tenderness which had -to be disguised owing to the presence of your kind and charming son, -during the lovely fortnight we have spent at Sark. Everything there was -a feast for mind and heart. One thing only was lacking for my complete -happiness; freedom to love you aloud and in all frankness. Now there -need be no obstacle to the passionate expansion of my soul, but it is in -the silence and solitude of my house, without the joys, smiles, -sparkling wit, and poetical atmosphere you and your son spread before -my dazzled eyes, during the splendid fortnight I spent with you both; so -true is it that one cannot have everything at the same time here below, -and that perfect happiness is attained only in Heaven. But while our two -souls are travelling thither, the one assisting the other, I am grateful -to God for the radiant fortnight He has just given me. I thank Him with -a full heart, and beseech Him to repay you and your dear Charles with as -many fruitful and glorious years as you have given me days of happiness -in the tender intimacy of Sark. As usual, my words are inadequate to -express my feelings, but you will understand, my beloved, and restore -the balance between the two. - -I hope you spent a good night, my sweet love. I am waiting for you to -give you as many kisses as you are able to carry. Until then I adore you -with all my soul. - - -_Tuesday, June 14th._ - -May God preserve you from all evil, my beloved, and permit my love and -blessing to constitute the whole happiness of your life. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Thursday, 4.30 p.m., February 16th, 1860_. - -You sat at this very spot just now, my sweet love, writing in my little -red book, (record of our love), the very things my own heart feels and -would have dictated to you, could it have spoken aloud--so certain is it -that my life belongs absolutely to you, and that my thoughts take birth -from your glances. Like you, I have faith in our radiant future in the -life beyond; like you, I pray to die as near you as possible, cradled in -your arms, whenever it please Heaven. If I hearkened only to the voice -of my selfishness, I should plead that it might be now, but I am too -conscious of the sublime mission you are called upon to accomplish -towards humanity in this world, to dare put up such an impious petition. -I will wait bravely, patiently, reverently, in prayer and adoration, -until it please God to call us unto Himself. - - -_Thursday evening, 7.30._ - -I resume my scribble where I left it when you came back this afternoon, -my darling beloved--not to add anything of value, but to continue for my -own pleasure the sweet dialogue between my heart and my love. I thank -you for our dear twenty-seventh anniversary, which you made memorable by -words so luminous and a tenderness so penetrating and sacred. I thank -you for myself, whose pride and joy and veneration you are; I thank you -on behalf of my nephew and his family, for the immense honour you have -conferred upon them by writing to their son. Lastly, my beloved, I kiss -your feet, your hands, your lips, your eyes, your brow, and I only cease -through fear of wearying you by this over-flow of caresses. - -I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -MONT ST. JEAN, -_Monday, 8 p.m., June 17th, 1861_. - -Dearly beloved. Whilst you are expanding among the tender delights of -family life, I am invoking all my physical and moral strength to -prevent myself giving way under the sadness of your absence. As long as -my eyes could distinguish the omnibus, that is to say, as far as the -_Betterave Renaissante_, I watched your progress along the Gronendael -road. Beyond that point, I was forced to relinquish the sweet illusion -that I could still see the dear little black speck on the horizon, and -to acknowledge that nothing lay before me but the endless void of your -twenty-four hours' absence. So, as I did not know what to do with myself -or how to kill time, I walked by a fairly easy field-path as far as the -church at Waterloo, and came back by way of the village, without however -visiting the church, notwithstanding the pressing invitation of an old -woman who called me her dear friend. I got back to the hotel at six -o'clock precisely, and spent the half hour before dinner freshening -myself up by washing from head to foot; then I put on a dressing-gown -and went down to our little dining-room, where I ate without hunger and -drank without thirst, so dismal and forlorn am I when you are no longer -present. I must have been pretty fully convinced of the impossibility of -accompanying you to Brussels without exposing your movements to -undesirable criticism, to accept the sad alternative of remaining here -alone. But that certainty is no comfort whatever, and I am just as -miserable as if it had been in my power to make the expedition with you. -Certainly, human respect is a horrid beast, more malevolent and worrying -than even midges and their poisonous sting, and all the ammonia in the -world is powerless against it. - -I am well fitted to make the comparison seeing that my arm is already -healed, while my heart suffers more and more. Dear adored one, do try, -on your part, to spend profitably this interval which is costing me so -dear. Be happy; I love you, bless you, and adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Tuesday, 8 a.m., February 17th, 1863_. - -Good morning, my beloved. In full daylight and glorious sunshine, in -love and happiness, good morning. Again I greet you, like that first day -thirty years ago, when my eyes followed you along the Boulevard after -you left me. My soul winged flights of kisses to you when you looked -round for one more glance at my window before turning into the Rue du -Temple. That picture remains for ever graven upon my mind; I can assert -with truth that everything remains the same in my heart as the night I -first became yours. These thirty years of love have passed like one day -of uninterrupted adoration, and I feel now younger, more virile, and -more capable of loving you, than ever before--heart, body, soul, all are -yours, and live only by you and through you. I smile upon you, bless -you, adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Sunday, 10.30 a.m., April 26th, 1863_. - -Good morning, unutterably dear one. May all the blessings of heaven and -earth rest upon you and those you love. I slept very well and hope you -did the same. My headache has gone and I feel as sturdy as an oak-tree. -I do not in the least desire a great house whence I shall not be able to -see you in the mornings, and I should much prefer to keep my own little -perch upon which my heart poises so happily while I watch you moving -about your home. Having made my protest, beloved, you shall dictate to -me the letter I must write to notify the landlord that he need not move -out to-morrow. We can settle when you come, what time I must be ready, -so as not to lose one second of our little walk up the hill. I am so -happy at the thought of remaining near you, that I feel as if I had -already substituted youthful wings for my old legs. Even my garden is -gay, and cries out to me by the mouths of its lovely flowers: _don't go -away_! Health is where happiness is, and happiness means loving each -other, side by side, eyes upon eyes, soul with soul. Therefore, I shall -stay here. That is quite settled. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Friday, 7.30 a.m., October 30th, 1863_. - -Good morning, good morning, and again, good morning, my dear, wide-awake -person. You must be very well to-day, judging by the energy with which -you are shaking your rugs to the four winds. I hope that signifies a -good night, good health, lively love, and all the rest of it. As for -myself, I slept little, but soundly. I got up before gun-fire this -morning, and had already finished my dressing when I saw you on your -balcony. What a privation it will be for me, my adored man, when I can -no longer watch you in the mornings, moving about your house. I do not -feel as if I should ever get accustomed to it, and I think of it with -apprehension, for there is a proverb that says, "Out of sight, out of -mind." If you gave up loving me, or worse, loved me less, what should I -make of life in that great empty drawing-room? - -At this moment, I am trying to numb these reflections by the -contemplation of the marvels you are creating in that future house of -mine; but at the bottom of my heart, I know I shall always mourn this -poor little lodging, where my eyes could watch over you, caress you, -guard you, preserve you, and adore you. The more I think of it, the more -oppressed I feel, and the more I blame myself for having exchanged the -happiness of every moment, for a comfort I shall hardly have leisure to -appreciate, and for health which did not require amelioration. My poor -beloved, forgive these regrets which are only dictated by love, and this -anxiety which also means love. Try not to let the separation of our -houses entail that of our hearts; try to love me as heartily there as -here, and do not let yourself be enticed away from me by anybody. On -those conditions I promise to live happily in the splendid rooms you -have prepared for me. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Wednesday, 1.30 p.m., June 15th, 1864_. - -Dearly beloved, I cannot forsake this little home where we have loved -each other for eight years, without imprinting a kiss of gratitude upon -its threshold. I have just gazed my supreme farewell at your beautiful -house, which has so long been to me the polar star of my heart's -wanderings. Alas, I am lengthening out the moments as much as possible; -I cannot bring myself to leave this dear little house, which I had made -the shrine of my cult for you. I should like to carry away the walls -against which you have leaned, the floors you have trodden, and even the -dust your feet have spurned. I fear lest my sadness be observed by those -who cannot understand it, and the efforts I make to seem unconcerned -increase the constriction of my heart, and drench my eyes with tears. -Oh, my adored beloved, how you will have to love me and give me all the -time at your disposal, to console me for the immense grief I am -experiencing to-day in quitting your neighbourhood, that is to say, in -losing sight of it! How you will have to double and treble and quadruple -your love, to replace the dear memories I leave behind me! May God -protect me and may the dear souls of our angels follow us to the new -home, and bless us till our last hour! - -I adore you. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Thursday, 5.30 a.m., June 16th, 1864_. - -Where are you, my beloved? My eyes seek you vainly, you are no longer -there to smile upon me; it is all over--I shall never again see the -little roost whence you used to blow kisses and wave your hand so -tenderly. I am alone now in my fine house, alone for ever; for there is -no further chance in this life of having you near me. I shall never -again live in your immediate intimacy, as I have done for the past eight -years. - -Loyally as you may endeavour to bridge over the distance between our -abodes by coming to me oftener in the day-time, the separation of our -two existences must ever endure. I know it by the blank depression I am -feeling this morning. I would give a hundred thousand houses and -palaces, and the universe itself, for that little slice of horizon where -my heart projected itself night and day. I am ashamed of having been so -mean-spirited as to barter my daily happiness against a chimerical -amelioration of health. I am punished for my transgression, my dearest. -I carry death in my heart. Forgive me! I would gladly smile at you, but -at this moment I feel incapable of doing so. Forgive me for loving you -too much. I hope you had a good night. I hope you gazed upon my dark, -empty house and gave it one sigh of regret. I hope you love me and are -conscious of my absence. May God preserve you from all evil, dearly -beloved, and may your love remain whole and intact in severance as in -propinquity. I bless you, and adore you. A kiss to all our dear -memories. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Sunday, 8.30 a.m., June 11th, 1865_. - -It would take very little to make me stay in bed till noon. I am ashamed -of myself and well punished, for I have not seen you this morning, and -have not yet heard whether you had a good or a bad night. I hope you -were clever enough to sleep uninterruptedly from the moment you laid -your head on the pillow, till that of your uprising. I shall be very -glad if I have guessed right. Meanwhile, my sweet treasure, I send you -a smile and a blessing. I am listening at this moment to the joyous -cheeping of my tiny chicks over a saucer of milk that has just been put -before them. I am also watching two white butterflies darting after each -other among my roses, like twin souls in Eden. The flowers are blooming, -love-making is going on all around, and my heart is overflowing with -tenderness and adoration for you. The further I progress in life, the -more I love you; you are the beginning and end of my being. I hope -everything of you, and my soul trusts you, all in all. You are my -radiant and divine beloved. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Sunday, 7.30 a.m., December 2nd, 1866_. - -Good-morning, my adored one, bless you. I can afford to smile on this -date, abhorred of all worthy folk: December 2nd.--because it is, for me -alone, a joyful anniversary. If my gratitude is an offence towards -humanity, I humbly ask pardon of God and man. I am tormented at the -thought that you may have slept badly. If I could be reassured on that -point, I should be quite happy this morning. Unfortunately, I can only -find out much later when you come here to bathe your dear eyes. The -mention of your eyes reminds me of your poor wife's sight. Surely, if -the doctors were not certain of curing her, they would not keep her so -long in Paris, away from all her belongings, in winter weather? My -desire for her complete recovery of a sense of which she has made such -noble use in her beautiful book _Victor Hugo, racont_, makes me look -upon her delay in returning, as a happy presage of future recovery. I -ask it of Heaven, with love. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Wednesday, 8 a.m., January 1st, 1868_. - -I thank you, dearest, for letting me have a share in your prayers, when -you plead to God not to separate us in life or in death. It is what I -pray all day long; it is the aspiration of my heart and the faith of my -soul. I am not a devout woman, my sublime beloved, I am only the woman -who loves and admires and reverences you. To live near you is paradise; -to die with you is the consecration of our love for all eternity. I want -to live and die with you. I, like you, crave it of God. May He grant our -joint prayers! - -I feel as you do, my beloved, that those two dear souls hover above us -and watch over us and bless us. I associate them with all my thoughts -and sorrows and joys, and I place my prayers under their protection, -that they may convey them direct to the foot of the Great White Throne. -I bless them as they bless me, with all that is loftiest and holiest and -most sacred in my soul. I am stopping at almost every line of this -letter to read your adorable one over again, although I already know it -by heart. I kiss it, talk to it, listen to it, and then begin all over -again. I love you. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Thursday, 7 a.m., May 7th, 1868_. - -Dearly beloved, I am rather less worried since I have seen you and -exchanged a kiss with you; yet I know you slept badly. I can feel that -you are ailing and sad. I pray God to give you happiness again as soon -as possible, in the form of a second little Georges all smiling and -beautiful; meanwhile, I beg Him to let my love be the balm that will -heal your wounds, until the day of resurrection of the sweet child for -whom you weep.[112] - -I hope He will hear and grant my petitions on your behalf, and that you -will be restored to some degree of calmness and consolation. When you -write to your two dear sons, Charles and Victor, do not forget, I beg, -to thank them from me for the little portrait. Tell them I love them and -mingle my tears with theirs. - -I adore you, my great one, my venerated one, my sublime mourner. - -J. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Sunday, 7.30 a.m., August 2nd, 1868_. - -Again I have slept better than ever, beloved. I trust it has been the -same with you. I was very proud and pleased at my walk with you and your -family last night, but I felt somewhat shy and ill at ease. Please -permit me to decline any further invitations of the kind. Should the -occasion arise again, which is improbable, I think good taste and -discretion demand that I should hold myself aloof from your family -affections, and only associate myself with them at a distance, or in my -own home. As this feeling, or scruple, whichever you may like to call -it, could not be expressed in the presence of your dear children -yesterday, I consented to go with you, while intending to call your -attention privately to the embarrassment such an incident would cause -me, if it should happen again. I think you will probably agree with me, -and approve of my sacrificing my pleasure to your tender family -intercourse. - -J. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Wednesday, 8.30 a.m., August 26th, 1868_. - -My poor beloved, I pray God to spare you and your dear children the -misfortune which threatens you at this moment in the loss of your -angelic and adorable wife. I hope, I hope, I hope. I pray, I love you, I -summon all our dear angels above to her assistance and yours. I pray God -to make two equal shares of the days remaining to me, and add one to the -life of your saintly and noble wife. My beloved, my heart is wrung, I -suffer all you suffer twice over, through my love for you. I do not know -what to do. I long to go to you, I should love to take my share of the -nursing of your poor invalid, but human respect holds me back, and my -heart is heavier than ever. Suzanne has only just come from your house, -and I already want to send her back again, in the hope that she may -bring me less disquieting news than that which I have just received. Oh, -God have mercy upon us and change our anguish into joy! - - -BRUSSELS, -_Thursday, August 27th, 1868_. - -My beloved, in the presence of that soul which now sees into my -own,[113] I renew the sacred vow I made the first time I gave myself to -you; to love you in this world and in the next, so long as my soul shall -exist, in the certainty of being sanctioned and blessed in my devotion -by the great heart and noble mind which has just preceded us, alas, into -eternity. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Friday, 8 a.m., August 28th, 1868_. - -I placed your sleep last night under the protection of your dear one, my -beloved, and implored her to remove from your dreams all painful -memories of the sad day just past. I hope she heard me and that you -slept well. Henceforth, it is to this gentle and glorious witness of -your life in this world, now your radiant protectress in Heaven, that I -will appeal for the peace and happiness you require, to finish the great -humanitarian task to which you have pledged yourself. May God bless her -and you, as I bless her and you. - -The more I think over to-night's mournful journey, the more convinced I -feel that I ought not to take part in it. The pious homage of my heart -to that great and generous woman must not be exposed to a wrong -interpretation by indifferent or ill-natured critics. We must make this -last sacrifice to human malignity, in order to have the right to love -each other openly afterwards; do you not agree, my beloved? Afterwards, -may nothing ever come between us here below, nor above--such is my -ardent desire! - -J. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Friday, 5.30 p.m., August 28th_. - -My heart and thoughts are with you and your beloved dead. I am sad and -heart-broken, not for the angelic and sublime woman who now shines out -in the world of spirits while we here below regret her, but for you, my -poor sad man, to whom she was a holy and meek companion; for your dear -children whose joy and pride she was; for myself, to whom she was ever a -discreet and considerate protectress. - -My heart is torn by your grief, my poor afflicted ones; my eyes rain all -the tears you are shedding. Dear treasure, I beg your wife to obtain for -you the courage you need. May her memory remain with you, sweet and -gentle and benign as was her exquisite person in life. I entrust you to -her as I confide myself to you, and I bless you both. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Tuesday, 2 p.m., February 1st, 1870_. - -Since I have seen you, my great beloved, I am feeling much better. Your -smile has completed my cure. It may be an illusion of my eyes and heart, -but at this moment I seem to feel the breath of spring. Perhaps it -proceeds from the nearness of the anniversary of the first performance -of _Lucrce Borgia_, which is to be acclaimed and applauded by an -enthusiastic public to-morrow night, just as it was thirty-seven long -years ago. Bonaparte may do his best to-morrow against this magnificent -play, he will get no good out of his police-engineered cabal. I think he -will hardly dare risk such an infamous attempt, but I wish it was -already Saturday, that we might be quite easy. Meanwhile, I love you -after the fashion of Princesse Ngroni. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Monday, 8.30 a.m., February 14th, 1870_. - -Good morning, my dearest. Did you sleep better last night, my great, -little man? Were you warmer? How are you this morning? It is indeed -tedious to have to wait until this afternoon to hear all this. I am -trying to moderate my impatience by doing things for you. I have already -selected your two eggs, put fresh water into your finger-bowl, and a -snow-white napkin on your plate. Suzanne is making your coffee, which -perfumes the whole house, while I trace these gouty old -"pattes-de-mouche," which are to lay all the tender nonsense of my heart -at your feet. I am beginning early, as you see, to be certain that they -arrive in time. The thaw has begun. I was quite hot in the night, though -I must admit I had taken measures to that end; so I slept excellently, -as you can judge by the state of my spirits. But what I really want you -to take note of is, that I adore you. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Saturday, 7.45 a.m., May 21st, 1870_. - -My heart, my eyes, my soul, are bewildered, my beloved, so overwhelmed -are they with tenderness, admiration, and happiness! What an adorable -letter, and what a marvellous surprise! How good you are to me! How -generous and charming! Words fail me, and the best I can say is: I love -you! I love you! I threw my arms around old Mariette's neck, and almost -embraced Marquand himself in the delirium of my delight. What a splendid -frame for that lovely little mirror! It contains everything: flowers, -birds, a shelf, little Georges' sweet face above, and your beautiful -verses for wings. How can I thank you adequately, or describe my -gratitude? Fortunate am I to have eternity before me in which to bless -you. I kissed my dear little letter before everybody, but I would not -read it until just now when I was able to bolt my door. I always read -you thus, my adored one. My soul demands privacy for the better -understanding of your sublime words, and I never finish the reading of -them without feeling transported with love and almost prepared for the -next world. I love you!! - -Mariette told me you had spent a very good night. Is it really true? I -slept capitally, too, and am feeling more than well. I have been looking -about for a place for my new treasure, but have not yet decided on one. -I shall leave it to you to choose its proper place in my museum of -_souvenirs_. Meanwhile, I have covered it away from the dust and put it -in the shady drawing-room. As soon as I have read your adorable little -letter again, I shall go back and have another look at it. - -J. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO, BY RODIN.] - -GUERNSEY, -_Friday, 5 a.m., August 18th, 1870_. - -At all hazards I must send you my morning greeting, though I trust you -are sleeping too soundly to hear it. You have slept so little and so -badly for many nights, that it would be only fair that this night -should be long and good. As for me, I hardly slept at all, but I do not -mind and am hardly surprised, as it is a habit of mine. But the thing I -feel I cannot become inured to, is the apprehension of the perils you -are about to encounter on your journey to Paris, ranging from the loss -of your wealth to the death of your love for me--either would finish me. -I think with terror of the tortures of all kinds I shall undergo there; -my courage fails me and craves mercy in anticipation. I have fought all -night against the wicked temptation to desert my post in a cowardly -manner before even meeting the enemy--not an enemy that can be fought -with fire and blood, but one that stabs you smiling. But I have not even -the courage of cowardice; I am ready to suffer a thousand deaths if only -I can preserve you from a single danger. You must live at any cost, that -you may be enabled to complete your glorious task, and be happy, no -matter how or with whom. My duty is to devote myself to that end, -whatever betide. If I go under in the execution of it, so much the worse -for me, or possibly, so much the better. To serve you and love you is my -mission in this world--the rest does not concern me. - -J. - - -_Thursday morning, July 20th, 1871_. - -This is your patron-saint's day, my great beloved. Others will -congratulate you with flowers and music and expressions of admiring -gratitude and emotion, but nobody will love you more than I do, or bless -and adore you as you deserve to be loved, blessed and adored! - -I hope this anniversary may be the beginning of a new year less sinister -and sad than the last, and that your dear grandchildren will give you as -much joy and happiness as you have had sadness and misfortune in the -past. I say this hastily, as best I can, with emotion in my old heart -and thrills of joy in my soul. As I sit scribbling, I hear your voice -calling me and I rush towards you just as in the early days of our love. - -I kiss your hair, your eyes, your lips, your hands, your feet. I adore -you. - -JULIETTE. - - -PARIS, -_Thursday, 10.15, January 18th, 1872_. - -Good morning, my great and venerated one. I kiss one by one the wounds -of your heart, praying God to heal those that ache worst. I beg Him to -give me strength to help you carry your heavy cross to the end. I ask -Him, above all, to give me that which, alas, is lacking in my nature, -namely, that infinite gentleness without which the most perfect devotion -is unavailing. Since the day before yesterday, my poor, sublime martyr, -my heart has been wrung by the new blow that has fallen upon you,[114] -and I weep helplessly, without power to check my tears. God Who gave you -genius makes you pay heavy toll for that favour, by overwhelming your -life with the pangs of sorrow. My beloved, I beg you to tell me how I -may serve you. I will do anything you desire. I will use my whole heart -and strength in your service. - -I love you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_8 a.m., Monday, February 26th, 1872_. - -This is your birthday, beloved--the anniversary of anniversaries, -acclaimed in Heaven by the great men of genius who preceded you upon -earth, and blessed by me ever since the day I first gave myself to you. -We used to celebrate it with all the sweetest instruments of love; -kisses, words of endearment, letters, all were pressed into service to -make this date, February 26th, a perfume, an ecstasy, a ray of sunshine. -To-day these winged caresses have flown to other realms, but there -remains to us the solemn devotion that better becomes the sacred -marriage of two souls for all eternity. In the name of that devotion I -send you my tenderest greetings and beg you to let me know how you spent -the night. I hope your little breach of regulations yesterday did not -prevent you from sleeping. As for me, I slept little, but I am quite -well this morning, thanks to the influence of this radiant date. I ask -little Georges and little Jeanne to kiss you for me as many times as you -have lived minutes in this world. My dearly beloved, I bless you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Saturday, 2 p.m., April 13th, 1872_. - -This is a day of sunshine: God, in His Heaven above, and little Jeanne -under my roof. I hardly know--or rather, perhaps I do know which is the -brighter of the two, but I am not going to tell you, for fear of making -you too proud. What a beautiful day, and what an adorable little girl! -But what a pity we cannot all enjoy these spring-time delights together, -walking and driving, in town and country-meadows. I am really afraid the -good God will weary of us and pronounce the fatal dictum: "IT IS TOO -LATE" when at last we make up our minds to take our share of life, -sunshine, and happiness. The terrible part is that whether innocent or -guilty we shall all suffer alike for _your_ transgression, for divine -justice is very like that of man. As for me, I enter my protest from my -little retreat, but it serves no purpose except that of an idle pastime; -it does not even keep me from adoring you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 12 noon, November 18th, 1873_. - -My beloved, I do not desire to turn your successes into a scourge for -your back, but I cannot help feeling that my old-fashioned devotion cuts -a sorry figure amongst the overdressed _cocottes_ who assail you -incessantly with their blandishments and invitations. This fantastic -chase has gone on for a long time without extorting from you any sign of -weariness or satiety. As for me, I long only for repose--if not in this -life (which seems difficult in my case to obtain), then in the -immobility of death, which cannot long be delayed at the pace I am -going. I ask your permission to begin preparing for it by giving up my -daily letters. That will be something gained; the rest will come -gradually, little by little, till one fine day we shall find ourselves -quite naturally on the platform of indifference, or of reason, as you -will prefer to call it. From to-day on, therefore, I place the key of my -heart on your doorstep, and will wander away alone in the direction of -God. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Friday, 11.15 a.m., December 26th, 1873_. - -Dear adored one. All your desires in life, as well as mine, are granted -to-day if your dear Victor has spent a good night, as I hope. I am -anxiously waiting for Mariette's return to know how the dear invalid -is.... - -My poor beloved, I am in despair--I have just seen Mariette, who tells -me that your poor son is in high fever at this moment.[115] I do not -know how to tell you; I do not think I shall have the strength to do so. -Dr. Se has been sent for and Mariette has just gone back to hear what -he thinks of this relapse. Oh, Heaven have mercy on us! I hardly dare -breathe or even weep, so greatly do I dread betraying to you the -misfortune which threatens you, my beloved. How can I ward off the fate -that is hanging over you? What can I say or do? My brain reels! Ought I -to tell you everything--would it be wrong to conceal from you the -imminent sorrow that is going to wring your heart once more? I know not, -but I lack the courage either to speak or to be silent; I am in despair, -yet I dare not make moan. I suffer, I adore you. Pity me, as I pity you. -Let us love each other under this cruel trial, as we should if Heaven -were opening its gates to us. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Monday, 5 o'clock p.m., December 29th, 1873_. - -Go, dearest, try to find in a solitary walk, which may prove fruitful to -the world, some solace for the painful agitation of your heart. My -thoughts follow you lovingly and bless every one of your steps. Do not -worry about me in the new arrangements of your life. Whatever you settle -shall be accepted by me. For forty-one years I have followed that -programme, and I will do so now, more than ever. Provided you love me as -I love you, I desire nothing more from God or you. The advice I give -you, apart from my own personal concerns, is always practical and in -your own interest and that of your dear grandchildren. I should feel I -had failed in my duty if I kept the least of my ideas from you, whether -good or bad, insignificant or stupid. I love you and adore you, body, -heart and soul. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 12.30 p.m., February 17th, 1874_. - -Dear one, there is rather more bustle about us than usual on this our -sweet and sacred anniversary. We have the little excitement of your two -adorable grandchildren, which we had not expected, but which is all the -more delightful for that. The perfection of happiness would have been to -take them ourselves to that famous circus which little Georges already -knows, and little Jeanne dreams of; but the bad weather and the remains -of my influenza counsel a pusillanimous prudence. It is not without -regret, beloved, that I impose this sacrifice of one of our most -precious joys upon you, but I feel I cannot do otherwise to-day. As for -the dear little things, their pleasure will, fortunately, not be marred -in any way. So long as they can revel in the antics of Mr. and Mrs. -Punch and their august family, they will not mind whom they go with. -That being the case, Mariette is a sufficient escort to the promised -land of Auriol and Punch. - -As for ourselves, dearest, I trust that our two souls, communing -together, will not miss those fascinating little witnesses of our love -over much. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Wednesday, 7 p.m., March 11th, 1874_. - -He whose heart is younger than his years suffers all the sorrows of his -age. This aphorism contains in a few words the secret of the turmoil I -involuntarily bring into your life, while I myself suffer like a soul in -damnation. Still, I must not allow this ridiculous folly to be an -annoyance to you; I must and will get the better of it, and leave you -your liberty, every liberty, especially that of being happy whenever and -however you like. Otherwise, my poor beloved, you will very shortly come -to hate the sight of me. I know it, and it terrifies me in anticipation. -So I am determined to crush my heart at all costs, that I may restore -peace and happiness to yours. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Saturday, 1.45 p.m., April 4th, 1874_. - -I thank you dear one, for having been loyal enough to tell me this -morning that you had written another poem to Madame M. I thank you also -for having offered to read it to me, and not to send it to her till -afterwards. I accepted this respite in the first instance, but I -realised later that _what is delayed is not lost_, and that I should -gain nothing by struggling against being bracketed with this _statue -inhabited by a star_, and that I was simply putting myself in the absurd -position of the ostrich that tries to avert danger by hiding his head in -the sand. Therefore beloved, I beg you to act quite freely, and to send -the verses dedicated to your beautiful muse whenever you like. Once the -poetry has been written, it is quite natural that you should intoxicate -each other without consideration for me. Besides, in my opinion, -infidelity does not consist in action only; I consider it already -accomplished by the sole fact of desire. That being settled, my dear -friend, I beg you to behave exactly as you like, and as if I were no -longer in the way. I shall then have leisure to rest from the fatigues -of life before taking my departure for eternity. Try and be happy if you -can. - -J. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1877.] - -PARIS, -_Thursday, 7 a.m., April 11th, 1874_. - -Permit me, my great beloved, to offer you my three-score years and ten, -freshly completed this morning. Give the poor old things a friendly -reception, for they are as blazing with love for you now, as if they had -only been born yesterday. I commission little Jeanne to give you -seventy million kisses for me to-day, not one less, but a few more if -she likes. I hope little Georges' nose has not bled since yesterday, and -that he slept well like the rest of you. I slept like a top, and am -splendid this morning. I feel a degree of youthfulness that must proceed -from the seventy springs I have absorbed so freely. The sky itself -contributes its birthday greeting by pouring its measure of sunshine -upon us. Therefore, long live love, for us in the first place, (for a -little selfishness will not harm happiness,) and in the second, long -live love for all whom we love. May you be blest, my beloved, in all -those you care for. I adore you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Thursday, 10.45 p.m., May 7th, 1874_. - -Dear, dear one, the separation I dreaded as a veritable calamity is now -an accomplished fact. God grant it may not be the beginning of the end -of my happiness. My heart is full of sad presentiment. The distance that -separates us is like a broken bridge between our hearts, over which -neither joy nor hope may pass henceforth. I cherish no illusion; from -this evening forward, all intimacy between us is over, and my sweet -horizon of love is for ever clouded. I try to give myself courage by -reflecting that the happiness I lose is gained by you in the affection -of your two dear grandchildren. I tell myself that this compensation -should be sufficient for me; still I am in despair, and I can hardly -help shedding floods of tears, as if some irreparable misfortune had -befallen me when you walked away just now. I accustomed myself far too -speedily to a happiness that was only lent to me for a little while. -But however short-lived it proved, I bless you, and pray God to turn my -regrets and sorrow into a future of joy and kisses and ecstasy for you -and your two little angels. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_9.30 a.m., Sunday, June 21st, 1874_. - -I had hoped that nothing would happen to disturb the sanctity of this -sad anniversary,[116] and had counted on the assistance of the angels of -death to defend me from the aggressions of the devils of life. Alas, I -was sadly at fault, for never was a more audacious or more cynical -attempt made against my peace of mind. One might think that the mangled -remains of my poor heart were a target for the arrows of those -emissaries of vice! I declare myself vanquished without a fight, and ere -my reason finally succumbs, I mean to place my bruised heart in shelter, -far from the flattering intrigues of which you are the fortunate hero. - - -_3 p.m._ - -You wish me not to be anxious, not to relinquish a tussle in which I am -unarmed? It is more generous than wise on your part, for what happened -to-day, happened yesterday, and will again to-morrow, and I have no -strength left, either physical or moral. This martyrdom of Sisyphus, who -daily raises his love heavenward only to see it fall back with all its -weight upon his heart, inspires me with horror, and I prefer death a -thousand times over, to such torture. Have mercy upon me! Let me go! It -shall be wherever you will. Do not run the risk for yourself and me of -my committing some frightful act of folly. I ask you this in the name of -your daughter and mine--in the name of little Georges and your dear -little Jeanne. Give me a chance to recover from these reiterated -attacks. I assure you it is the only remedy possible, or capable of -effecting my cure. You will hardly notice my absence; the children of -your blood, and those of your genius, and the rest, will easily fill the -void of my absence, and meanwhile I shall regain calmness. I shall -become resigned and perhaps be cured, and in any case it will be a -respite for you as well as for me. I assure you my treasure, that it -will be a good thing for you. I beg you to let me try it. The abuse of -love, like the abuse of health, brings suffering and death in its train. -The soul may have a plethora, as well as the body. Mine suffocates under -its own weight. Let me try to lighten it in solitude and the -contemplation of our past happiness. I beg and implore it of you--I ask -it in the name of those you mourn and love. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Monday, 6 p.m., February 16th, 1875_. - -My dearest, your letter burns and dazzles me, and I feel humbled by it, -because physically I know myself to be so far beneath your ideal; but -morally, when I look inward and see my soul as your love has transformed -it, I am arrogant enough to think myself above it, and to have no fear -of the moment when I may reveal to you its resplendent purity in the -eyes of God. Pending this, sublime and divine treasure of mine, you -must shut your eyes to the sad reality of my old, sickly body, and await -with patience the rejuvenation promised in Heaven. I pray God to allow -me to live as long as you, because I do not know how I could exist a -single minute without you, even in Paradise with our holy angels. I hope -He will grant my ardent prayer, and that we shall die and rise again -together on the same day and at the same hour. To ensure this, I must -put my health on a level with yours, which will be difficult, for I am -very feeble. I try to, every day, without much success so far, but I am -counting on the spring to give me a push up the hill, so that I may -continue to pace the road at your side. This evening, if nobody comes, -and if Madame Charles leaves us early, I shall beg you to let me do _Le -Passus_ with you. I should like to celebrate the day by something brave -and wholesome. I hope I shall manage it. I love you, bless you, and -adore you. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Tuesday, 7.45 a.m., April 21st, 1875_. - -Good morning my great, good, ineffable, adorable beloved. I pray Heaven -to bless you in Heaven as I bless you here below. I hope you slept as -well as I did, that you bear me no grudge for the irritability born of -excessive fatigue, and that you do not love me less on account of it. My -confidence in your inexhaustible indulgence lends me courage to proceed -with the sad business that brought me here.[117] The thought that we -shall never return to these houses of ours, where we loved and suffered -and were happy together, makes my heart as heavy as if we were already -attending our funerals. This fresh break between the sweet past of our -love and the short future that remains to us in this life, makes the -present very painful. But I am not unthankful for the compensations that -await us in Paris in the society of your dear grandchildren--far from -it! I shall smile upon them and bless them with my last breath, as the -tangible angels of your happiness and mine. I am doing my best to be -ready to start on Tuesday morning. I regret not being able to carry away -every relic of our love, from the soil of the garden, to the air you -breathe. By the way I have a petition to make to you, but am ready to -submit to a refusal if you do not approve of granting it. I want you to -allow me to give Louis the two splendid drawings of St. Paul and the -Cock, which are really mine to dispose of, since you gave them to me -long ago. Some mementoes are more prized by an heir than mere money, and -I should like to leave these from you to my kind and worthy nephew, if -you consent. Meanwhile, as I said before, I will bow to a refusal, even -if you give me no reason, for I adore you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 7.45 a.m., October 5th, 1875_. - -Good news from your dear little travellers. The top of the morning to -you, and long live love! The telegram, which came after I was in bed, -that is to say after eleven o'clock, is dated from Genoa, and says they -arrive the day after to-morrow at Madame Mnard's, and will write at -once from there. Meanwhile they send you thousands of kisses, of which -I make bold to reserve a share, before being quite certain that I am -meant to do so. This long delayed arrival in France heralds their speedy -return home, which is not at all displeasing to me--_on the contrary!_ -My gaze, night and morning, at their dear little portraits in no degree -replaces their kisses, their sweet faces, and the joyous little shrieks -one hears all day long. At last we are touching the end of our long -abstinence and shall soon be able to devour them whole. Meanwhile I -continue to feed upon your heart, to whet my appetite. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Sunday, 5 p.m., November 21st, 1875_. - -Dear beloved, your promise to take me every day to Versailles, if you -are obliged to return to the Assemble, fills my heart with such joy -that I have been humming all the merry songs I used to sing. It is long -since I have done such a thing. What would it be if some lucky event -sent us all back to Guernsey, never to leave it again ... or at least, -not for a very long time! What enchantment, what a starlit dream, if God -were to give us that bliss a second time! I think I should promptly -return to the age I was when I received your first kiss. Fortunately for -France, God will not grant this selfish wish, but He will forgive me for -entertaining it I hope, for I cannot help loving you beyond everything -in this world, and it does not hinder me from being satisfied with -whatever happiness He is pleased to vouchsafe, so long as you are -content, and love only me, who adore you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 8 a.m., April 25th, 1876_. - -My treasure, I pray God not to separate us in this life or the next. -That is why I am anxious to be with you in the crowd that will rush to -see and hear you at the cemetery to-day.[118] I know by experience that -your enthusiasm borders on imprudence, so I want to press my body to -yours as closely as our souls are riveted, so that whatever befalls you -on this sad occasion, may include me. As the love animating our hearts -is identical, it is only fair that our fate should be the same. I wish -this evening were safely over, that I might be satisfied that everything -has gone off well; for I am afraid if poor Louis Blanc attends the -mournful ceremony in his present state of ill-health and weakness, he -may not be able to get through it. I shall not be easy until we are at -home again. Meanwhile I pray Heaven and our angels above to watch over -you and preserve you from all danger. I bless, love, and adore you, for -all eternity. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Wednesday, 7.30 a.m., April 26th, 1876_. - -I thank you with sacred emotion, my dear one, for your inclusion of me -in the sublime and magnificent exordium you pronounced yesterday on the -noble wife of Louis Blanc. I accept it without false modesty, because I -feel I deserve it, and I am proud and grateful for this ante-apotheosis -you made of me, a living woman, standing at the open grave of the -devoted deceased. I am sure her spirit will not have grudged it, and -that she blesses you from above, as I do from below, joining her prayers -to mine, that God may grant all grace and divine consolation to those we -love. I have already re-read your splendid oration many times to-day, -and although I know it by heart, each repetition discloses some fresh -beauty in it. My one cry is: I love you! I love you!! I love you!!! All -my heart and soul are contained in those words: I love you. - -J. - - -_Monday, 10 a.m., November 11th, 1878._ - -No, my beloved, you have no right to endanger your precious health and -risk your glorious life for nothing. "Art for art's sake" is not -permissible in your case, and we shall oppose it strenuously, even at -the risk of curtailing your liberty. I am sorry, but there it is--you -must make up your mind to it. There are plenty of useless men in this -world who may waste their lives as they like, but you must guard and -preserve yours for as long as it pleases God to grant it to you for the -honour and happiness of humanity. So, my dear little man, I implore you -not to repeat yesterday's imprudence, or any other, for all our sakes, -including your adorable grandchildren's and mine whose health and life -and soul you are. When I see you so careless of yourself I cannot help -feeling you no longer love me, and that my continued presence is so -wearisome to you that you want to be rid of it at any price. Then I -am seized with a desperate longing to deliver you of me for ever, rather -than be the involuntary accomplice of your repeated suicidal acts, which -have been ineffectual so far, not through your fault, but because God -intends you to go on living, for His greater glory and your own. May His -will be done. Amen. - -J. - -[Illustration: THE DEATHBED OF VICTOR HUGO. - -Victor Hugo Museum.] - -[Illustration: A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET. - -The writing reads thus: "A la Juliette de Victor Hugo, plus charmante et -plus aime que la Juliette de Shakespeare." The original belongs to M. -Louis Barthou.] - -VILLEQUIER, -_Friday and Saturday mornings, September 12th and 13th, 1879_. - -A double letter, my beloved; to-day's and yesterday's, which, for want -of paper, pens and ink, I was not able to send you at the proper time, -in spite of the inexhaustible fount of my love. This morning being -better provided, I can let myself go in the happiness of being with you -in the house of your respected friends,[119] enjoying their tender and -devoted hospitality. I am proud and yet shy of sharing it with you; -proud, because I think myself worthy, shy because I do not know how to -thank them or to prove my gratitude. Fortunately the honour and pleasure -of your presence is reward enough for those you esteem, and from whom -you accept this filial friendship, admiration, and devotion. I express -myself badly, but you are accustomed to grasp my meaning, in spite of -the lapses of my pen; so I never worry about the confusion of my -scribbles, and I end them imperturbably, as I begin them, by the sacred -words: I love you. I did not venture to ask your permission yesterday to -accompany you on your pious pilgrimage,[120] but I add the prayers I -addressed to God and your dear dead, to the sacrifice I was forced to -make to appearances. If you allow me, I shall go before we leave -Villequier, and kneel beside those venerated tombs, to offer under the -open sky my profound respect and eternal benediction. I shall only do it -if you consent, for I should not like to offend against good taste by -the outward manifestation of the sentiment I cherish in my heart for -your dear dead relations. I know you slept well--thanks evidently to the -calm and happy life your friends provide for you in their circle, for -which I thank and bless them from the bottom of my heart. I do not know -whether the weather will be favourable to-day for the excursion we -planned; it is foggy so far, but whatever be the state of the barometer, -I am disposed to be quite happy if you are, and to adore you without -conditions of any kind. By the way, how are you going to evade the -attentions of the mayor and corporation of Le Hvre without hurting the -feelings of the poor workmen who implore you to go amongst them while -you are in their neighbourhood? It is not an easy problem to solve. -Luckily nothing is a difficulty to you--nor to me either when there is -any question of loving you with all my might from one end of life to the -other! - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Monday, 7 a.m., May 30th, 1880_. - -How beautiful, how grand, how divine!!! I have just finished that -glorious reading, and am electrified by the elixir of your ardent -poetry; my fainting soul clings to your mighty wings, to arrest its fall -from the starry heights in which you plane, to the profound abyss of my -ignorance. I was afraid I might disturb your sleep by the rustling of -the leaves as I cut and devoured them greedily, never noticing that -night was turning into day. Finally, fearing to be caught by you, I -dragged myself unwillingly to bed at three o'clock, and have now already -been up an hour, in triumphant health, rejuvenated by the virility of -the thoughts your inexhaustible genius pours forth without intermission -before a dazzled and grateful humanity. My hand shakes from my inward -tremor, and it is with difficulty that I finish this poor little cry of -admiration. Even my voice, if I tried to speak at this moment, could -hardly stammer out my adoration. I am in the throes of a kind of -delirium which would be painful, were it not as exquisite as the divine -love which overflows from my heart. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 8 a.m., November 2nd, 1880_. - -Beloved, Heaven decrees that in the absence of your dear departed souls, -your sweet angels here below should be restored to you to-day. Let us -bless Him with all reverence, and be solemnly happy with the memory of -those who once made our felicity, and the kisses of your adorable -grand-children, who constitute your present and future content. What joy -it is to see them once more, lovelier than ever if possible, and in -still better health. All night I listened to every sound, that I might -be the first to welcome them on the threshold. I succeeded, and was -repaid by their hugs. The sun shot forth its brightest beams in their -honour. As for you, divine grandpapa, I trust your horrid cold will -yield to the tender caresses that await you, and that we shall have you -with us in our enjoyment. The least we can hope for is an indulgence in -unlimited caresses, after these three months of separation. I make a -start by flinging myself into your arms. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 9 a.m., December 14th, 1881_. - -I come to fetch my heart where I left it, that is to say in yours. I -return it to you, praying you not to bruise it over much by unjust and -wounding tyrannies. My independent, proud nature has always borne them -ill, and is now in revolt. I beg you beloved, not to constitute yourself -the critic of my little personal needs. Whatever I may ask, I assure you -I shall never exceed the bounds of necessity, and never will I take -unfair advantage of your trust and generosity. The position you have -given me in your household precludes me from placing myself at a -disadvantage in the eyes of your guests by an appearance not in -consonance with your means. Therefore, please, dear great man, leave it -to my discretion to do honour to you as well as to myself. Besides, the -little time I have to spend on earth is not worth haggling about. So, my -great little man, let us be good to each other for the rest of the time -God grants us to live side by side, and heart to heart. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Sunday, Noon, July 10th, 1881_. - -My dear beloved, I must first of all confess the fault (if it be one) I -committed yesterday under the influence of the universal enthusiasm -occasioned by the glorious ovation offered to you, so that you may -forgive it, even if you see fit to punish me. This is my crime. Whilst -you, still in the full flood of your emotion, were thanking the -enthusiastic crowd, the councillors of our district approached to -congratulate you and at the same time to beg for money for their -schools. Madame Lockroy sent them forty francs by Georges. Failing to -attract your attention, though they stood behind you, intent upon -presenting their money-boxes themselves, they turned to me. In my -agitated surprise, I handed them the hundred-franc note I was saving up -for my birthday. I gave the note in your name, at the same time -reminding them they had already received five hundred from you the day -before, through their mayor. He, happening to be present, confirmed my -statement. This is my transgression; if you deem it deserving of -severity you need not refund the money. If you take into account the -delirium and excitement of the occasion you will smile and give me back -my poor little mite of which I have great need. In any case you must not -scold me too much, for I am very sensitive. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 8 a.m., June 21st, 1882._ - -Beloved, thank you for taking me to-day to the mournful and sweet -_rendez-vous_ of St. Mand. I feel as if my sorrow would be less bitter, -kneeling at my child's grave than when I am at a distance ... as if my -soul could get closer to that of my little beloved, through the earth of -her tomb, than anywhere else. I hope you will find your dear daughter -in good health, and that we shall both return from this sacred errand -resigned to the will of God, though not consoled, for that is no longer -possible in this world. Thank you again, my adored one, for sharing with -me the sad anniversary that recalls to you the many sorrows of your own -life. I am very grateful to you, and I bless you as I love you, with all -the strength of my soul. - -J. - - -_Monday, January 1st, 1883._ - -Dear adored one, I do not know where I may be this time next year, but I -am proud and happy to sign my life-certificate for 1883 with this one -word: I love you. - -JULIETTE.[121] - - - - -APPENDIX - -I. LIST OF THOSE OF VICTOR HUGO'S POEMS WHICH WERE INSPIRED BY JULIETTE -DROUET.[122] - - -A. _LES CHANTS DU CRPUSCULE_ - -XIV. Oh! n'insultez jamais (September 6th, 1835). - -XXI. Hier la nuit d't (May 21st, 1835). - -XXII. Nouvelle chanson sur un vieil air (February 28th, 1834). - -XXIII. Autre chanson. - -XXIV. Oh! pour remplir de moi (September 19th, 1834). - -XXV. Puisque j'ai mis ma lvre (January 1st, 1835). - -XXVI. Or Mademoiselle J. (March 1st, 1835). - -XXVII. La pauvre fleur (December 7th, 1834). - -XXVIII. Au bord de la mer (October 7th, 1834). - -XXIX. Puisque nos heures sont remplies (February 19th, 1835). - -XXXIII. Dans l'glise de.... (October 25th, 1834). - -XXXVI. Puisque Mai tout en fleurs (May 21st, 1835). - - -_B. LES VOIX INTRIEURES_ - -VI. Oh! vivons disent-ils (March 4th, 1837). - -VIII. Venez que je vous parle (April 21st, 1837). - -IX. Pendant que la fentre tait ouverte (February 26th, 1837). - -XI. Puisqu'ici-bas toute me (May 19th, 1836). - -XVI. Pass (April 1st, 1835). - -XVII. Soire en mer (November 9th, 1836). - -XII. Or Ol ... (May 26th, 1837). - -XXX. Or Olympio (October 15th, 1835). - -XXXI. La tombe dit la rose (June 3rd, 1837). - - -_C. LES RAYONS ET LES OMBRES_ - -XXII. Guitare (March 14th, 1837). - -XXIII. Autre guitare (July 18th, 1838). - -XXIV. Quand tu me parles de gloire (October 12th, 1837). - -XXVII. Oh! quand je dors, viens auprs de ma couche (June 19th, 1839). - -XXVIII. A une jeune femme (May 16th, 1837). - -XXV. Or cette terre o l'on ploie (May 20th, 1838). - -XXXIII. L'Ombre (March 1839). - -XXXIV. Tristesse d'Olympio (October 21st, 1837). - -XLI. Dieu qui sourit et qui donne (January 1st, 1840). - - -_D. LES CONTEMPLATIONS_ - -[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE DESIGNED FOR JULIETTE DROUET BY VICTOR HUGO. - -The original belongs to M. Louis Barthou.] - -BOOK II - -II. Mes vers faisaient doux et frles.... - -V. Hier au soir - -XIII. Viens, une flute invisible - -XV. Parole dans l'ombre - -XVII. Sous les arbres - -XX. Il fait froid - -XXI. Il lui disait: Vois-tu, si tous deux nous pouvions - -XXIII. Aprs l'hiver - -XXIV. Que le sort quel qu'il soit vous trouve toujours grande - -XXV. Je respire o tu palpites - -XXVII. Oui, va prier l'glise - -XXVIII. Un soir que je regardais le ciel - -BOOK V - -XIV. Claire P.... - -XXIV. J'ai cueilli cette fleur pour toi sur la colline - -BOOK VI - -VIII. Claire - - -_E. TOUTE LA LYRE_ - -BOOK VI. L'AMOUR - -I. Lorsque ma main frmit - -II. Oh, si vous existez, mon ange, mon gnie (March 10th, 1833). - -III. Vois-tu, mon ange, il faut accepter nos douleurs (January 1st, -1835). - -IV. Vous m'avez prouv (June 23rd, 1843). - -XV. tapes du c[oe]ur. - -VII. A J---- et - -IX. Qu'est-ce que cette anne emporte - -XVII. N'est-ce pas mon amour - -XXXI. Oh dis, te souviens-tu de cet heureux dimanche - -XXXIV. Garde jamais dans ta mmoire - -XXXVI. A une immortelle - -XLVII. Quand deux c[oe]urs en s'aimant - - -II. BOOKS CONCERNING JULIETTE DROUET - -_Les Belles femmes de Paris_, par une socit de gens de lettres et de -gens du monde, Paris, 1839. - -Edmond Bir: _Victor Hugo aprs_ 1830. Paris, 1879. - -Alfred Asseline: _Victor Hugo intime_. Paris, 1885. - -Richard Levelide: _Propos de table de Victor Hugo_. Paris, 1885. - -Gustave Rivet: _Victor Hugo chez lui_. Paris, 1885. - -Tristan Legay: _Les amours de Victor Hugo_. Paris, 1901. - -Louis Guimbaud: _Victor Hugo et Juliette Drouet_ in _La Contemporaine_ -of February 25th and March 10th, 1902. - -Lon Sch: _Juliette Drouet_ in the _Revue de Paris_ of February 1st, -1903. - -Wellington Wack: _The Story of Juliette and Victor Hugo_. London and -Paris (no date, about 1906). - -Juana Richard Levelide: _Victor Hugo intime_. Paris, 1907. - -Hector Fleischmann: _Une Matresse de Victor Hugo_. Paris, 1912. - -Jean Pierre Barbier: _Juliette Drouet, Sa Vie, son Oeuvre_. Paris, 1913. - - -III. WORKS OF ART REPRESENTING JULIETTE DROUET - -"Juliette Drouet in 1827." Statuette by Chaponnire. Only one proof is -known to us; it belongs to M. Daniel Baux Bovy, ex-curator of the Muse -de Genve. - -"Juliette Drouet in 1830." Portrait in oils by Champmartin (Muse Victor -Hugo). - -"Juliette Drouet as Princesse Ngronie." Coloured engraving in the -Martini series. - -"Juliette Drouet." Engraving by Lon Mal, in _L'Artiste_, 1832. - -"Juliette Drouet in 1846." Plaster bust by Victor Vilain (Muse Victor -Hugo). - -"Juliette Drouet at Jersey and Guernsey." Numerous photographs belonging -to Messrs. Blaizot and Plans. - -"Juliette Drouet in 1882." Drawing by Vuillaume in _Le Monde Illustr_ -of December 15th, 1882. - -"Juliette Drouet in 1883." Portrait in oils by Bastien Lepage; exhibited -in the Salon, 1883; now included in the Pereira Collection. - - - - -INDEX - - -Acadmie Franaise, 60-61 - -Alix, Mademoiselle, 267 - -Anges, Mother des, 5 - - -Barths, Monsieur de, 74 - -Bernardines, Bndictines of Perpetual Adoration, 3 - -Bertin, Monsieur, 33 - -Biard, Madame, 245 - -Blanc, Madame Louis, 303 - - -Chenay, Madame Julie, 98 - -Constance, Mademoiselle, 253 - - -Dd, Mademoiselle, 232 - -Dmousseaux, Madame, 218 - -Dorval, Madame, 12, 49, 142 - -_Drouet, Juliette_: - Her birthplace, 1 - Childhood, 3 - Becomes Pradier's mistress, 8 - Gives birth to a daughter, 8 - Enters theatrical world, 9 - Meets Victor Hugo, 13 - Plays Princesse Negroni, 17 - Falls in love with Victor Hugo, 23 - Denial of imaginary offences, 119 - After her first visit to 6, Place Royale, 121 - Works on Les Feuilles d'Automne, 123 - Suggests leaving Victor Hugo, 125 - Her fears for the future, 127 - Her landlord threatens to evict her, 131 - Farewell for ever, 132 - Leaves Victor Hugo, 30 - Asks for forgiveness, 135 - Four hours before the production of _Anglo_, 143 - An hour after the triumph of _Anglo_, 144 - The house at Metz, 36 - Letters from Metz, 155 - Her request for a portrait, 171 - Lawsuit of Victor Hugo against the Comdie Franaise, 186 - Cash accounts, 188 - Removes to Rue St. Anastase, 46 - Alluding to the revival of _Hernani_, 189 - Revival of M_arion de Lorme_, 192 - Cast for the Queen in _Ruy Blas_, 199 - Comments on _Didine_, 212 - Letter written after the catastrophe in which Victor - Hugo's eldest daughter and his son-in-law perished, 227 - Comments on a speech on deportation, 243 - Letters from Brussels, 251-283 - Residence in Jersey and Guernsey, 84 - Letters from Jersey, 256 - " " Guernsey, 265-286 - " " Paris, 290 - Death 114 - Her last letter, 310 - -Drouet, Ren Henri, 2 - - -Ferrier, Mademoiselle Ida, 28 - -Fougres, 1 - -Gautier, Thophile, his description of Juliette, 19 - -Gauvain, Julienne Josphine. _See_ Drouet, Juliette - -Georges, Mademoiselle, 11, 12, 143 - -Granier de Cassagnac, 198 - -Gurard, Madame, 184 - - -Harel, Flix, 9, 143 - -Hilaire, Monsieur St., 228 - -Hugo, Charles, 92; - death, 105 - -Hugo, Franois, 92, 293 - -Hugo, Victor (_see also_ Drouet, Juliette) - Meets Juliette, 13 - Revival of _Hernani_, 57 - Becomes an Academician, 62, 216 - His opening speech, 65 - Lives at Jersey and Guernsey, 94 - Elected a member of the Assemble Nationale, 105 - -Hugo, Madame Victor, 16 - -Joly, Antnor, 202 - -Juliette, Mademoiselle. _See_ Drouet, Juliette - - -Kock, Madame, 30 - -Kraftt, Madame, 133 - - -Lanvin, Madame, 123, 227 - -Lespinasse, Mademoiselle de, 187 - -Lockroy, Madame, 309 - -Luthereau, Madame, 86 - -Luxembourg, 67 - - -Mars, Mademoiselle, 142 - -Maxime, Mademoiselle, 226 - -Mechtilde, Mother Ste., 5 - -Mnard, Madame, 301 - -Meurice, Paul, 104 - - -Orlans, Duc d', 225 - - -Pasquier, Monsieur, 144 - -Pierceau, Madame, 144, 218 - -Pradier, Claire, 69; - death, 82 - -Pradier, James, 7; - makes Juliette his mistress, 8; - writes to Juliette, 73, 123 - - -Quelen, Monsignor, Archbishop of Paris, 7 - - -Rcamier, Madame, 144 - - -Teleki, 267 - -_Tudor, Marie_, 137 - - -Verdier, Monsieur, 144 - - -Watteville, Madame, 73, 123 - -_Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._ - - -THE PRINCESS MATHILDE BONAPARTE - - By PHILIP W. SERGEANT, Author of "The Last Empress of the French," - etc. - - _Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, fully illustrated, 16/-net._ - -Princess Mathilde Bonaparte, the niece of the great Emperor, died only -ten years ago. She was the first serious passion of her cousin, the -Emperor Napoleon III, and she might have been, if she had wished, -Empress of the French. Instead, she preferred to rule for half a century -over a _salon_ in Paris, where, although not without fault, she was -known as "the good princess." - - -FROM JUNGLE TO ZOO - - By ELLEN VELVIN, F.Z.S., Author of "Behind the Scenes with Wild - Animals," etc. - - _Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, with many remarkable photographs, - 6/-net._ - -A fascinating record of the many adventures to which wild animals and -their keepers are subject from the time the animals are captured until -their final lodgment in Zoo or menagerie. The author has studied wild -animals for sixteen years, and writes from personal knowledge. The book -is full of exciting stories and good descriptions of the methods of -capture, transportation and caging of savage animals, together with -accounts of their tricks, training, and escapes from captivity. - - -THE ADMIRABLE PAINTER: A study of Leonardo da Vinci - - By A. J. ANDERSON, Author of "The Romance of Fra Filippo Lippi," - "His Magnificence," etc. - - _Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, fully illustrated, 10/6 net._ - -In this book we find Leonardo da Vinci to have been no absorbed, -religious painter, but a man closely allied to every movement of the -brilliant age in which he lived. Leonardo jotted down his thoughts in -his notebooks and elaborated them with his brush, in the modelling of -clay, or in the planning of canals, earthworks and flying-machines. -These notebooks form the groundwork of Mr. Anderson's fascinating study, -which gives us a better understanding of Leonardo, the man, as well as -the painter, than was possible before. - - -WOMEN OF THE REVOLUTIONARY ERA - - By Lieut.-Col. ANDREW C. P. HAGGARD, D.S.O., Author of "Remarkable - Women of France, 1431-1749," etc. - - _Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, fully illustrated, 16/-net._ - -Lieut.-Col. Haggard has many times proved that history can be made as -fascinating as fiction. Here he deals with the women whose more or less -erratic careers influenced, by their love of display, the outbreak which -culminated in the Reign of Terror. Most of them lived till after the -beginning of the Revolution, and some, like Marie Antoinette, Throigne -de Mricourt and Madame Roland, were sucked down in the maelstrom which -their own actions had intensified. - - -THE MEMOIRS OF THE DUKE DE ST. SIMON - - Newly translated and edited by FRANCIS ARKWRIGHT. - - _In six volumes, demy 8vo, handsomely bound in cloth gilt, with - illustrations in photogravure, 10/6 net each volume. (Volumes I. - and II. are now ready.)_ - -No historian has ever succeeded in placing scenes and persons so vividly -before the eyes of his readers as did the Duke de St. Simon. He was a -born observer; his curiosity was insatiable; he had a keen insight into -character; he knew everybody, and has a hundred anecdotes to relate of -the men and women he describes. He had a singular knack of acquiring the -confidential friendship of men in high office, from whom he learnt -details of important state affairs. For a brief while he served as a -soldier. Afterwards his life was passed at the Court of Louis XIV, where -he won the affectionate intimacy of the Duke of Orleans and the Duke of -Burgundy. St. Simon's famous Memoirs have recently been much neglected -in England, owing to the mass of unnecessary detail overshadowing the -marvellously fascinating chronicle beneath. In this edition, however, -they have been carefully edited and should have an extraordinarily wide -reception. - - -BY THE WATERS OF GERMANY - - By NORMA LORIMER, Author of "A Wife out of Egypt," etc. With a - Preface by Douglas Sladen. - - _Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, with a coloured frontispiece and 16 other - illustrations by_ MARGARET THOMAS _and_ ERNA MICHEL, _12/6 net_. - -This fascinating travel-book describes the land of the Rhine and the -Black Forest, at the present time so much the centre of public interest. -The natural and architectural beauties of Germany are too supreme for -even the sternest German-hater to deny; and this book describes them and -the land around them well. But apart from the love-story which Miss -Lorimer has weaved into the book, a particularly great interest attaches -to her description of the home life of the men who, since she saw them, -have deserved and received the condemnation of the whole civilized -world. - - -BY THE WATERS OF SICILY - - By NORMA LORIMER, Author of "By the Waters of Germany," etc. - - _New and Cheaper Edition, reset from new type, Large Crown 8vo, - cloth gilt, with a coloured frontispiece and 16 other - illustrations, 6/-._ - -This book, the predecessor of "By the Waters of Germany," was called at -the time of its original publication "one of the most original books of -travel ever published." It had at once a big success, but for some time -it has been quite out of print. Full of the vivid colour of Sicilian -life, it is a delightfully picturesque volume, half travel-book, half -story; and there is a sparkle in it, for the author writes as if glad to -be alive in her gorgeously beautiful surroundings. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] Her birth-certificate is drawn up in the following terms: "On April -11th, 1806, at 3 p.m. before me, Louis Pinel, mayor of Fougres and -registrar of births, deaths, and marriages, Julien Gauvain, tailor, -aged twenty-nine, residing at Rue de la Rvolution, Fougres, presented -a female child, born on the preceding day at 7 a.m., the legitimate -daughter of himself and his wife Marie Caretandet; he declared his -intention of bestowing upon her the names of Julienne-Josphine. The -said declaration and presentation were made in the presence of Franois -Dorange, sheriff's officer, aged twenty-five, residing in Fougres, and -Franois Paunier, gardener, aged sixty-eight, residing in Lcousse. -This certificate was duly signed by the father and the witnesses, after -the same had been read aloud to them. Signed: Julien Gauvain, Franois -Paunier, Dorange, and Louis Pinel." - -[2] She posed, not, as has been stated, and as we ourselves have -erroneously printed, for statues in the towns of Lille and Strasburg, -but for numerous studies of the head and the nude which Pradier -afterwards made use of; thus the features of Julienne may be recognised -in almost all the rough studies belonging to the first portion of -Pradier's career, which are exhibited under glass in the museum at -Geneva. - -[3] The portrait of Victor Hugo by Devria has often been reproduced. -It is popular. Lon Nol's lithograph is less known. It is to be found -either in the _Artiste_ in the course of the year 1832 or in the Muse -Victor Hugo. We reproduced it in the _Contemporaine_ of February 25th, -1902. - -[4] Victor Hugo, _Correspondance_. Letter to Sainte-Beuve, August 22nd, -1833. - -[5] Victor Hugo, _Correspondance_. Letter to Sainte-Beuve, July 7th, -1831. - -[6] _Lettres la Fiance._ - -[7] Under the heading: _A Ol._ (Olympio) XII. - -[8] Thophile Gautier, _Portraits contemporains_. - -[9] Alphonse Karr, _Une Heure trop tard_. - -[10] We heard it from Monsieur Benezit, who was often with Frdrick -Lematre about the year 1872. - -[11] Thophile Gautier, _Portraits contemporains_. - -[12] _Lucrce Borgia._ First note to the original edition. - -[13] She was forty-six and beginning to grow fat. According to -Juliette, she told Victor Hugo that his mistress was deceitful, vain, -lawless, and a flirt. - -[14] V. H. Fleischmann, _Une Matresse de Victor Hugo_, chap. vii. - -[15] Nothing remains of it now, save the name and the site. All the -rest, park, garden, and dwelling, has been completely altered. - -[16] In 1877 Madame Drouet, although seventy-one years old, insisted -upon attending the funeral of Mlle. Louise Bertin. "I wish," she wrote -to Victor Hugo, "to show in this way that I have not forgotten the -marks of sympathy she gave you on my account in the early days of our -love" (_Letter of April 28th, 1877_). - -[17] This inn still exists, and is not changed in any way. It is -exceedingly modest. - -[18] It belongs now to Madame Veuve Bigot. On the left exterior wall a -Versailles society has thought fit to place an inscription recording -that Victor Hugo once inhabited the house. Four lines of _La Tristesse -d'Olympio_ follow. It would have been more correct to bracket the name -of Juliette Drouet with that of the poet, for after all it was not he -who lived there, but she. - -[19] Here occurs the only discrepancy between _La Tristesse d'Olympio_ -and the letters of Juliette. Victor Hugo writes in 1837: "They have -paved this rough, badly-laid road"; whereas Juliette, as early as 1835, -calls it _the pavement_. - -[20] _La Tristesse d'Olympio._ - -[21] See also later, in the collection of letters, the one written -under date of January 25th, 1844. - -[22] September 27th, 1845. - -[23] September 29th, 1845: "I wish I had the money to buy it all before -it is desecrated." Victor Hugo understood her feeling, and a generous -impulse led him to propose to buy the house. The price asked was six -thousand francs. Very delicately Juliette refused. October 7th, 1845. - -[24] 1834. - -[25] December 15th, 1838. - -[26] Thophile Gautier. - -[27] In 1836 Victor Hugo was forced to take legal action against the -Comdie Franaise. He won his case the following year. - -[28] We have proofs of this in two letters from Juliette to Victor Hugo. - -[29] February 1st, 1836. - -[30] It will be remembered that Mlle. Maxime brought an action against -the Comdie and Victor Hugo on that point, which made some considerable -stir. See the articles of Monsieur Jules Claretie in _Le Journal_ of -February 5th, 1902. - -[31] _Les Burgraves_ alternated in the bill with a piece by Madame de -Girardin in which Rachel played the heroine. - -[32] May 30th, 1841. - -[33] The removal took place in the month of February 1845. The rent and -accommodation of the apartment were about the same as at No. 14. The -furnishing, which Victor Hugo wished to make somewhat more luxurious, -cost 2,256 francs, including the first quarter's rent. - -[34] 1833. - -[35] Monsieur Lon Seche, _Revue de Paris_, February 15th, 1903. - -[36] Catalogue of an interesting collection of autograph letters of -which the sale took place on Saturday, November 30th, 1912, page 21. -Paris. Nol Charavay, 1912. In another note dated from Les Metz, Victor -Hugo tells Claire "that he loves her with all his heart, and uses his -best handwriting in writing to her, which is very praiseworthy in -an old student like himself." And he adds, "I kiss both your little -peach-cheeks." (Same, p. 22.) - -[37] Autograph postscript by Victor Hugo to a letter to Juliette on May -28th, 1833, quoted above. - -[38] Pradier did not fail to write a sermon on this occasion full of -the unction and solecisms in which he habitually excelled. - -[39] June 5th, 1841. - -[40] _Les Contemplations_, Livres V., XIV., Claire P. - -[41] One of the sons of the sculptor was called John. - -[42] April 25th, 1845. - -[43] April 27th, 1845. - -[44] The thrilling episode of Victor Hugo's political adventures in -1851, by which his life was placed in jeopardy through his espousal of -the cause of liberty and progress, is related by himself in _L'Histoire -d'un crime_. He was forced to go into hiding in December for several -days, and subsequently made his escape to Brussels in the disguise of -a workman. Juliette had preceded him thither, to prepare a safe refuge -for him.--_Translator's Note._ - -[45] Charles Hugo, _Les Hommes de l'Exil_, p. 104. - -[46] _Ibid._ - -[47] May 18th, 1852. - -[48] This passage constitutes the portion of the Galleries of St. -Hubert situated at right angles to the two others, called respectively, -Passage du Roi, and Passage de la Reine. - -[49] May 24th, 1852. - -[50] A packet of Victor Hugo's love-letters to Madame B. was -treacherously forwarded to her by the lady in question. They extended -over a period of seven years, 1844 to 1851. Victor Hugo had carried -on his secret intrigue with Madame B. while he was daily visiting and -corresponding with Juliette. The discovery of his duplicity almost -broke her heart.--_Translator's Note._ - -[51] Victor Hugo, _Correspondance_, letter to mile Deschanel, December -11th, 1853. - -[52] January 23rd, 1853. - -[53] It was signed by Flix Pyat, Rouge, and Jourdain. - -[54] Victor Hugo had disposed of the bulk of his furniture in June -1852, but he had stored the things he specially valued at Juliette's -apartment, Cit Rodier. - -[55] These remarks may be verified by the series of photographs of the -poet taken by his sons during his exile and preserved in the Muse -Victor Hugo. Some of the snapshots, as we should call them nowadays, -are an indication of the distress of the great outlaw. - -[56] _Victor Hugo Intime_, by Madame Juana Lesclide. - -[57] A young girl in bad circumstances, to whom Juliette had given -shelter under her own roof, and who thus requited the charity of her -benefactress.--_Translator's Note._ - -[58] Juliette Drouet was buried on May 12th, 1883, in the cemetery -of Saint Mand, near her daughter Claire, under a marble stone she -had selected for herself in 1881. Her funeral was attended by a large -body of journalists. The speech was delivered by Auguste Vacquerie. -According to a letter she wrote to Victor Hugo on November 1st, 1881, -she wished for an epitaph taken from one of the "sublime poems" he had -addressed to her. Her desire was not gratified; the tomb does not even -bear the name of our heroine. - -[59] Juliette Drouet occasionally acted as the poet's secretary. - -[60] This letter is not signed. The envelope is addressed: "M. Victor -Hugo. A quarter to twelve, midnight. I am going to your house." - -[61] Victor Hugo was then living at 6, Place Royale, in the house which -is now the Muse Victor Hugo. Juliette Drouet lived not far away at 4, -Rue de Paradis au Marais, which is now one of the sections of the Rue -des Francs-Bourgeois. - -[62] Juliette's furniture had just been seized, and her landlord was -threatening to evict her. - -[63] Mlle. Mars, who was rehearsing a part in _Anglo_, at the Comdie -Franaise. - -[64] There are traces of tears all over this letter. - -[65] Eugne Hugo, brother of the poet, had just expired. See Number -XXIX of _Voix Intrieures, Eugne, Vicomte Hugo_. - -[66] This is an allusion to the second poem in the _Voix Intrieures_: -"Sunt lacrim...." - -[67] One of the basins in the park of Versailles. - -[68] Victor Hugo had given Juliette a _Quintus Curtius_ in which he had -formerly studied Latin. On the fly-leaf he had written a few words of -dedication. - -[69] A critic. - -[70] Juliette Drouet here enumerates the depreciation of various -stocks. The letter is of course written in a sarcastic vein induced by -_pique_.--_Translator's Note._ - -[71] This is an allusion to the lawsuit of Victor Hugo against the -Comdie Franaise. - -[72] Casimir Delavigne. - -[73] Scribe. - -[74] Juliette's sums were always wrong. - -[75] Alluding to the revival of _Hernani_ at the Comdie Franaise, -January 20th, 1838. - -[76] The revival of _Marion de Lorme_ at the Comdie Franaise was to -take place the next evening, March 8th. - -[77] Granier de Cassagnac, one of the most ardent champions of Victor -Hugo against the classical writers. The poet had introduced him to the -_Journal des Dbts_. - -[78] _Ruy Blas._ The poet had considered the propriety of casting -Juliette for the part of the Queen, and had in consequence caused her -to be engaged by the Thtre de la Renaissance. - -[79] The creator of the part of the Queen in _Ruy Blas_. The first -performance had taken place on November 8th. - -[80] Antnor Joly, Manager of the Thtre de la Renaissance. He had -intended to produce Juliette in a musical comedy. - -[81] Victor Hugo had already submitted himself three times as a -candidate for the Acadmie and was elected the fourth time, that is to -say, the day Juliette wrote this letter. His chief adversary in the -Acadmie was one of his former rivals, the Vaudevilliste, Dupaty. - -[82] Victor Hugo was received into the Acadmie by Monsieur de Salvandy -on June 3rd, 1841. - -[83] The poet's children. - -[84] Victor Hugo had been elected Chancellor of the Acadmie Franaise -on the preceding June 24th. Charles Nodier was the President. - -[85] Franois Victor Hugo, whose childhood was extremely delicate. - -[86] This is an allusion to the recent death of the Duc d'Orlans, the -friend and protector of Victor Hugo. - -[87] Rehearsals of _Burgraves_ at the Comdie Franaise. - -[88] An allusion to the disagreement of the poet with Mdlle. Maxime, to -whom the Comdie Franaise wished to allot the part of _Guachumara_, -and whom he was afterwards able to replace by Mdlle. Thodorine (Mme. -Melingue). - -[89] This letter is written after the catastrophe at Villequier on -September 4th, 1847, in which the eldest daughter and the son-in-law of -the poet perished. - -[90] This is an allusion to a journey Juliette and Victor Hugo had just -made, the account of which had been published in _Alpes et Pyrnes_. - -[91] Probably Ulrich Guttinguer. - -[92] A bronze medal representing Victor Hugo, after the medallion by -David d'Angers. - -[93] This letter was written at Auteuil, where Juliette was living, -with her dying daughter, in a house belonging to the sculptor, Pradier. -Victor Hugo visited her there nearly every day. - -[94] The doctor chosen by Pradier. - -[95] Juliette's own doctor. - -[96] Victor Hugo was then a candidate for the Assemble Nationale. - -[97] Victor Hugo was to make a speech that day on _La Misre_, vide -_Actes et Paroles_, _Avant l'xil_. - -[98] Mdlle. Rachel. Arsne Houssaye, who had recently been appointed -Director of the Comdie Franaise, had just introduced Victor Hugo to -the great tragedian. - -[99] A speech on deportation. Vide _Actes et paroles_, _Avant l'xil_. - -[100] Madame Biard. - -[101] Madame Biard had sent Juliette a packet of Victor Hugo's letters -to her. - -[102] The word "to-day" is left unfinished in the original, thus: -_aujo_.... - -[103] The period when Victor Hugo's intrigue with Madame Biard began. - -[104] On December 2nd, 1851, Victor Hugo held a meeting of the -representatives of the people, at which he drew up a proclamation -addressed to the Army. On the 3rd he presided over a meeting of the -Republicans in the Faubourg St. Antoine. Word was brought that the -troops were marching on the Faubourg. Victor Hugo thereupon delivered -an impassioned appeal to his audience, which concluded in the following -terms: "On one side stand the Army, and a crime--on the other, a -handful of men, and the Right! Such is the struggle. Are you prepared -to carry it through?"--_Translator's note._ - -[105] A troupe of actors passing through Jersey had insisted upon -playing _Anglo_ before the exiled poet. - -[106] Teleki, one of Victor Hugo's friends in Jersey. - -[107] Victor Hugo had taken up photography. - -[108] An allusion to spiritualism to which Victor Hugo had just fallen -a prey. - -[109] Adle Hugo, daughter of the poet. - -[110] Victor Hugo's drawings. He was giving them away indiscriminately -to his friends, and Juliette was jealous. - -[111] Probably one of the poems commemorating the catastrophe of -Villequier. They were collected and republished in _Les Contemplations_. - -[112] Charles Hugo had lost his eldest son, Georges. He gave the same -Christian name to the second, who, with Petite Jeanne, figures in -_L'Art d'tre Grand-pre_. - -[113] Madame Victor Hugo had just died. - -[114] Franois Victor Hugo had just been given up by the doctors. His -slow agony lasted eleven months. - -[115] Franois Victor Hugo died in the course of the day. - -[116] The anniversary of the death of Claire. - -[117] The removal from _Hauteville Ferie_. - -[118] Victor Hugo was to make a speech at the funeral of Madame Louis -Blanc. - -[119] A. Vacquerie and family. - -[120] To the grave of Lopoldine. - -[121] This letter is the last Juliette ever wrote. - -[122] Monsieur Eugne Plans possesses the original editions of _Chants -du Crpuscule_, _Les Voix Intrieures_, _Les Rayons et les Ombres_, -dedicated to Juliette and annotated by herself. He has been good -enough to refer to them and verify our list in so far as the three -following collections are concerned. We have included in the selection -only the love-poems directly inspired by Juliette. We have left out -the miscellaneous pieces which were dedicated to her after they were -written, sometimes at her own request. - - * * * * * - -Typographical error corrected by the etext transcriber: - -the silent Bivre=> the silent Bivres {pg 33} - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Juliette Drouet's Love-Letters to -Victor Hugo, by Louis Guimbaud and Juliette Drouet - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIETTE DROUET'S LETTERS *** - -***** This file should be named 44034-8.txt or 44034-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/0/3/44034/ - -Produced by StevenGibbs, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Juliette Drouet's Love-Letters to Victor Hugo - Edited with a Biography of Juliette Drouet - -Author: Louis Guimbaud - Juliette Drouet - -Translator: Lady Theodora Davidson - -Release Date: October 25, 2013 [EBook #44034] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIETTE DROUET'S LETTERS *** - - - - -Produced by StevenGibbs, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - JULIETTE DROUET'S LOVE-LETTERS - TO VICTOR HUGO - -THE NEW FRANCE, BEING A HISTORY FROM THE ACCESSION OF LOUIS PHILIPPE IN -1830 TO THE REVOLUTION OF 1848, with Appendices - -By ALEXANDRE DUMAS. Translated into English, with an introduction -and notes by R. S. GARNETT. - -_In two volumes, Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, profusely illustrated with a -rare portrait of Dumas and other pictures after famous artists. -24/-net._ - -The map of Europe is about to be altered. Before long we shall be -engaged in the marking out. This we can hardly follow with success -unless we possess an intelligent knowledge of the history of our Allies. -It is a curious fact that the present generation is always ignorant of -the history of that which preceded it. Everyone or nearly everyone has -read a history--Carlyle's or some other--of the French Revolution of -1789 to 1800; very few seem versed in what followed and culminated in -the revolution of 1848, which was the continuation of the first. - -Both revolutions resulted from an idea--the idea of _the people_. In -1789 the people destroyed servitude, ignorance, privilege, monarchical -despotism; in 1848 they thrust aside representation by the few and a -Monarchy which served its own interests to the prejudice of the country. -It is impossible to understand the French Republic of to-day unless the -struggle in 1848 be studied: for every profound revolution is an -evolution. - -A man of genius, the author of the most essentially French book, both in -its subject and treatment, that exists (its name is _The Three -Musketeers_) took part in this second revolution, and having taken part -in it, he wrote its history. Only instead of calling his book what it -was--a history of France for eighteen years--that is to say from the -accession of Louis Philippe in 1830 to his abdication in 1848--he called -it _The Last King of the French_. An unfortunate title, truly, for while -the book was yet a new one the "last King" was succeeded by a man who, -having been elected President, made himself Emperor. It will easily be -understood that a book with such a title by a republican was not likely -to be approved by the severe censorship of the Second Empire. And, in -fact, no new edition of the book has appeared for sixty years, although -its republican author was Alexandre Dumas. - -During the present war the Germans have twice marched over his grave at -Villers Cotterets, near Soissons, where he sleeps with his brave father -General Alexandre Dumas. The first march was en route for Paris; the -second was before the pursuit of our own and the French armies, and -while these events were taking place the first translation of his long -neglected book was being printed in London. _Habent sua fata tibelli._ - -Written when the fame of its brilliant author was at its height, this -book will be found eminently characteristic of him. Although a history -composed with scrupulous fidelity to facts, it is as amusing as a -romance. Wittily written, and abounding in life and colour, the long -narrative takes the reader into the battlefield, the Court and the Hotel -de Ville with equal success. Dumas, who in his early days occupied a -desk in the prince's bureaux, but who resigned it when the Duc d'Orleans -became King of the French, relates much which it is curious to read at -the present time. To his text, as originally published, are added as -Appendices some papers from his pen relating to the history of the time, -which are unknown in England. - -[Illustration: _Victor Hugo and Juliette Drouet_] - - - - - JULIETTE DROUET'S LOVE-LETTERS - TO VICTOR HUGO - - EDITED WITH A BIOGRAPHY OF JULIETTE DROUET - - BY - LOUIS GUIMBAUD - - TRANSLATED BY - LADY THEODORA DAVIDSON - - WITH A PHOTOGRAVURE FRONTISPIECE - AND 36 ILLUSTRATIONS IN HALF-TONE - - LONDON - STANLEY PAUL & CO - 31 ESSEX STREET, STRAND, W.C. - - _First published in 1915_ - - - - -FOREWORD - - -A poet, a great poet, loves a princess of the theatre. He is jealous. He -forces her to abandon the stage and the green-room, to relinquish the -hollow flattery of society and the town; he cloisters her with one -servant, two or three of his portraits, and as many books, in an -apartment a few yards square. When she complains of having nothing to do -but wait for him, he replies: "Write to me. Write me everything that -comes into your head, everything that causes your heart to beat." - -Such is the origin of the letters of Juliette Drouet to Victor Hugo. -They are not ordinary missives confided to the post and intended to -assure a lover of the tender feelings of his mistress: they are notes, -mere "scribbles," as Juliette herself calls them, thrown upon paper hour -by hour, cast into a corner without being read over, and secured by the -lover at each of his visits, as so many trophies of passion. - -When Juliette Drouet's executor, M. Louis Kock, died in Paris on May -26th, 1912, he had in his possession about twenty thousand. He had added -to them the letters of James Pradier to our heroine, those of Juliette -to her daughter, Claire Pradier, and the answers of Claire Pradier to -her mother. - -This collection of documents passed into the hands of a Parisian -publisher, Monsieur A. Blaizot, who has been so good as to allow us to -examine them and compile from them a volume concerning Victor Hugo and -his friend. - -At first sight the task presented grave difficulties--nay, it seemed -almost impossible of execution. To begin with, it would have been futile -to think of publishing the whole of the twenty thousand letters; in the -second place, it might appear a work of supererogation to reconstruct -from them in detail the story of a _liaison_ well known to have been -uneventful, almost monotonous, and more suggestive of a litany or the -beads of a rosary than of tragedy or a novel. - -We have attempted to surmount these objections in the following manner: - -In the first portion we present the biography of Juliette Drouet in the -form of a series of synthetic tableaux, each tableau summarising several -lustres of her life. We thus avoid the long-drawn-out narrative, year by -year, of an existence devoid of incident or adventure. - -In the second, we publish those letters which strike us as peculiarly -eloquent, witty, or lyrical. In the light shed upon them by the -preliminary biography, they form, as one might say, its justification -and natural sequel. - -At the outset of her _liaison_ with the poet Juliette does not date her -"scribbles"; she merely notes the time of day and the day of the week, -until about 1840; we have therefore been obliged to content ourselves -with the classification effected by her in the collection of her -manuscripts, and preserved by her executor. - -From 1840 she dated every sheet. Consequently our work simultaneously -achieves more precision and certainty. - -When its difficulties have seemed insuperable, we have derived valuable -encouragement from the sympathy of the literary students and friends who -had urged us to undertake it, or were assisting us in its execution. We -have pleasure in recording our thanks to the following: MM. Louis -Barthou, Beuve, A. Blaizot, Francois Camailhac, Eugene Planes, Escolier, -etc. b We have often wondered what the charming woman whose ideals, -tastes, and habits have, by degrees, become almost as familiar to us as -her handwriting, would have thought of our efforts. As far as she -herself is concerned there can be but little doubt. She would have made -fun of the undertaking. By dint of moving in the society of men of high -literary attainments she had acquired a very modest estimate of her own -wit and talent. In 1877, when the architect Roblin one day discovered -her sorting out her "scribbles," he thought she was attempting to write -a book and gravely asked her "when it was to be published." "What an -idea!" she cried, and burst out laughing. - -Such was not the opinion of Victor Hugo, however. That perfect artist -attached the utmost importance to the writings of his friend. Each time -she wished to destroy them he commanded her to preserve them. Whenever -she proposed to bring them to a close, he insisted upon her continuing. -We possess an unpublished letter from the poet in which he exclaims: - -"Your letters, my Juliette, constitute my treasure, my casket of jewels, -my riches! In them our joint lives are recorded day by day, thought by -thought. All that you dreamed lies there, all that you suffered. They -are charming mirrors, each one of which reflects a fresh aspect of your -lovely soul." - -Surely such a phrase conveys approbation and sanction sufficient for -both Juliette Drouet and her humble biographer. - - - - -CONTENTS - - -PART I - -_BIOGRAPHICAL_ - -CHAPTER I - PAGE - -JULIENNE GAUVAIN 1 - -CHAPTER II - -PRINCESSE NEGRONI 14 - -CHAPTER III - -"LA TRISTESSE D'OLYMPIO" 33 - -CHAPTER IV - -THE SHACKLES OF LOVE 45 - -CHAPTER V - -CLAIRE PRADIER 69 - -CHAPTER VI - -"ON AN ISLAND" 84 - -CHAPTER VII - -"THAT WHICH BRINGS SATISFACTION TO THE HEART" 104 - - -PART II - -_LETTERS_ 115 - - -APPENDIX - -I. LIST OF THOSE OF VICTOR HUGO'S POEMS -WHICH WERE INSPIRED BY JULIETTE -DROUET 311 - -II. BOOKS CONCERNING JULIETTE DROUET 314 - -III. WORKS OF ART REPRESENTING JULIETTE -DROUET 314 - -INDEX 317 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - -VICTOR HUGO AND JULIETTE DROUET _Photogravure Frontispiece_ - - FACING PAGE - -THE CHATEAU OF FOUGERES IN 1831 1 - -CLAIRE PRADIER AS A CHILD 8 - -VICTOR HUGO AS A YOUNG MAN 16 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN THE ROLE OF LA PRINCESSE NEGRONI 24 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN THE ROLE OF LA PRINCESSE NEGRONI 32 - -HOUSE IN THE VILLAGE OF LES METZ, IN THE PARISH OF -JOUY-EN-JOSAS, SEINE-ET-OISE 32 - -CHURCH OF BIEVRES, SEINE-ET-OISE 40 - -VICTOR HUGO ABOUT 1836 48 - -"LE CITOYEN VICTOR HUGO JOUANT AU CONGRES DE LA PAIX" 64 - -CLAIRE PRADIER AT FIFTEEN 72 - -CLAIRE PRADIER ON HER DEATHBED 80 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN JERSEY 88 - -VICTOR HUGO IN JERSEY 96 - -VICTOR HUGO, HIS FAMILY, AND JULIETTE DROUET AT HAUTEVILLE HOUSE 104 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN 1883 112 - -CLAIRE PRADIER 120 - -JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1830 128 - -A PAGE OF JULIETTE DROUET'S NOTE-BOOK IN 1834 136 - -AUTOGRAPH LETTER FROM JULIETTE DROUET TO HER DAUGHTER CLAIRE 144 - -VICTOR HUGO 160 - -CARICATURE OF MLLE. GEORGE, BY VICTOR HUGO 176 - -PORTRAIT OF VICTOR HUGO BY HIMSELF 176 - -AUTOGRAPH AND DRAWING BY JULIETTE DROUET 192 - -THE BRIDGE OF MARNE 208 - -A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET 224 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN 1846 232 - -VICTOR HUGO, REPUBLICAIN 240 - -DRAWING BY VICTOR HUGO, SIGNED "TOTO" 256 - -THE FLOWER AND THE BUTTERFLY 256 - -JULIETTE DROUET'S HAND 272 - -VICTOR HUGO, BY RODIN 288 - -JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1877 296 - -THE DEATHBED OF VICTOR HUGO 304 - -A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET 304 - -BOOK-PLATE DESIGNED FOR JULIETTE DROUET BY VICTOR HUGO 312 - -[Illustration: THE CHATEAU OF FOUGERES IN 1836. - -Unpublished drawing by Victor Hugo.] - - - - -JULIETTE DROUET'S LOVE-LETTERS TO VICTOR HUGO - - - - -PART I - -_BIOGRAPHICAL_ - - - - -CHAPTER I - -JULIENNE GAUVAIN - - -An irregular outline, sombre colouring, a tangle of towers, steeples, -high gables and ramparts, steep passages built in the form of steps: -such was the town of Fougeres at the beginning of the nineteenth -century. The principal features of its surroundings were a turbulent -river waging unceasing conflict with numerous mills, uncultivated -wastes, more footpaths than lanes, and more lanes than high-roads. - -This former hot-bed of _chouans_ was an appropriate birthplace for a -heroine of romance--and there, on April 10th, 1806, was born Julienne -Josephine Gauvain, subsequently known as Mademoiselle Juliette, and -later still, as Madame Drouet.[1] - -Her father was a humble tailor living in a suburb of the town, on the -road between Fougeres and Autrain; her mother kept the little home. -Madame Drouet was somewhat proud of her humble origin; she wrote: "I am -of the people," as others might boast "I am well born"; she wished -thereby to explain and excuse her taste for independence, her fiery -temper, and her impulsive nature. She might equally have attributed -these to the neglect she suffered in early infancy. - -For she had no parents to guard or train her. Her mother died on -December 15th, 1806, before the infant could lisp her first words. On -September 12th in the following year the father dragged himself to the -public infirmary at Fougeres, and there breathed his last. The infirmary -took over the charge of the orphan, and was about to place her with the -foundlings--indeed, the necessary formalities had already been complied -with--when a protector suddenly came forward, a certain worthy uncle. - -His name was Rene Henri Drouet. He was thirty-two years old, a -sub-lieutenant of artillery, had seen active service in eight campaigns -under Napoleon, and been wounded in the foot by the blow of an axe. The -wound was such that some very quiet employment had to be provided for -him. The ex-artilleryman was turned into a coast-guard, and dawdled out -a bored existence in the little Breton port where fate confined him -henceforth. He claimed Julienne, and she was handed over to his care. - -It would be foolish to pretend that this retired warrior was a suitable -person to undertake the training of a little girl. He understood only -how to spoil and caress her. Never did child enjoy a wilder, more -vagabond childhood. Julienne never got to the village school, because on -the way thither glimmered a large pond bordered by clumps of bushes. -Among the latter she would conceal her shoes and stockings, and, wading -into the water, blue as the skies above, gather starry water-lilies. -When she came out, more often than not she failed to find the -hiding-place, and ran home bare-footed, with hair floating in the wind -and a frock torn to ribbons. But she only laughed, and was forgiven -because she made such a winsome picture in her tatters and her wreath of -flowers. Those were halcyon days--days filled with innocent joys and -elemental sorrows: a fruit-tree robbed of its burden under the indulgent -eye of the old coastguard in his green uniform, the death of a tame -linnet. All her life Julienne's memory would dwell pleasurably on those -early delights. Nothing could curb her natural wildness, not even the -gate of a cloister or the rule of St. Benedict. - -Among Rene Henri Drouet's female relations he counted a sister and a -cousin, nuns in a great Parisian convent, the Bernardines-Benedictines -of Perpetual Adoration. Their house was situated in the Rue du -Petit-Picpus. When Julienne was ten years old he easily managed to have -her admitted to the school attached to the convent, and thenceforth the -orphan's path in life seemed settled: she should first become a -distinguished pupil, then a pious novice, and lastly a holy nun. But, as -events turned out, Julienne was only to carry out the first part of the -programme. - -From the description left us by Madame Drouet and transcribed in full -by, Victor Hugo in _Les Miserables_, the house in the Petit-Picpus -was none too cheerful; its first welcome to the child was more -sombre than any drama she was to figure in, later, as an actress. -Padlocked gates, dark corridors, bare rooms, a chapel where the -priest himself was concealed behind a veil--such was the scene; black -phantoms with shrouded features played the parts; the action was -composed of interminable prayers and stringent mortifications. The -Bernardines-Benedictines slept on straw and wore hair shirts, which -produced chronic irritation and jerky spasms; they knew not the taste -of meat or the warmth of a fire; they took turns in making reparation, -and no excuse for shirking was permitted. Reparation consisted in -prayers for all the sins and faults of omission and commission, all -the crimes of the world. For twelve consecutive hours the petitioner -had to kneel upon the stone steps in front of the Blessed Sacrament, -with clasped hands and a rope round her neck; when the fatigue -became unbearable, she prostrated herself on her face, with her arms -outstretched in the form of a cross, and prayed more ardently than -before for the sinners of the universe. Victor Hugo, who gathered -these details from the lips of Madame Drouet, declared them sublime, -while she who had personally witnessed their painful passion, retained -a profound impression for life, coupled with a strong sense of -Catholicism, and the gift of prayer. - -Outside of these austerities the pupils of the school conformed to -nearly all the practices of the convent. Like the nuns, they only saw -their parents in the parlour, and were not allowed to embrace them. In -the refectory they ate in silence under the eye of the nun on duty, who -from time to time, if so much as a fly flew without permission, would -snap a wooden book noisily. This sound, and the reading of the _Lives of -the Saints_, were the sole seasoning of the meal. If a rebellious pupil -dared to dislike the food and leave it on her plate, she was condemned -to kneel and make the sign of the cross on the stone floor with her -tongue. - -Neither the licked cross nor the meagre fare ever succeeded in damping -Julienne's spirits. She preserved the beautiful spontaneity and love of -fun of her early years. She was the spoilt child of the convent where -her aunts, Mother des Anges and Mother Ste Mechtilde, appear to have -wielded a kindly authority. She soon became its _enfant terrible_. Once, -when she was about twelve years old, she threw herself into the arms of -a nun and cried, devouring the outer walls with her eyes: "Mother, -mother, one of the big girls has just told me I have only got nine years -and ten months more to stay here: what luck!" And another time she -dropped on the pavement of the cloister a confession written on a sheet -of paper so that she might not forget its items: "Father, I accuse -myself of being an adulteress. Father, I accuse myself of having stared -at gentlemen." - -One might well ask who were the gentlemen concerned, for in the convent -of Petit-Picpus there were no male professors; only the most -distinguished among the nuns assumed the duty of instructing the young -boarders. Judging from the eloquence which will be found later in Madame -Drouet's letters, the Bernardines-Benedictines must have accomplished -their task with great thoroughness. Julienne learned from them, if not -orthography and cultivated style, at least sincerity, and the point -that, before attempting to write, one should have something to say. She -also studied accomplishments. Mother Ste Mechtilde possessed a beautiful -voice. She was consequently appointed mistress of ceremonies and of the -choir, and used to train her niece and other pupils. Her habit was to -take seven children and make them sing standing in a row according to -their ages, so that they looked like a set of girlish organ-pipes. -History does not relate whether Julienne sang better than the others, -but a little later she began to nurse in secret the idea of utilising -her gifts as a virtuoso. At Petit-Picpus she also learned to sketch and -paint in water-colours. She owed this instruction to the favour of the -pious nuns, who, as a special breach of their rule, authorised her to -take lessons from a young master, Redoute. - -It may not be too bold to declare that Julienne imbibed at the convent -those qualities of tact and restraint, and that air of distinction she -exhibited later in the drawing-rooms of Victor Hugo. To the Convent of -the Bernardines was attached a sort of house of retreat where aged -ladies of rank could end their days, as also nuns of the various orders -whose cloisters had been destroyed during the Revolution. Some of these -preserved within their hearts a generous instinct of maternity, which -Julienne easily managed to waken. She fell into the habit of running -across to break the rule of everlasting silence in that fairly cheerful -environment, and, in defiance of the prohibition against intimacy, she -turned the old ladies into personal friends. She listened attentively, -and remembered much, and forty years later she could describe correctly -the names, appearance, and habits of that picturesque group, somewhat -archaic, but invariably courteous and witty. - -Perhaps because of this slight lifting of the veil, Julienne began -already, at the age of sixteen, to fix her eager gaze beyond the -cloister and the gate. Perhaps also some instinct of dignity and -self-respect urged her to learn something of the world before entering -the novitiate to pronounce her vows. However this may be, it seems -certain that, on the solemn occasion of her presentation to the -Archbishop of Paris, Monsignor Quelen, as a postulant, she managed to -convey that her vocation was of the frailest, and her desire for the -world, deeply rooted. The prelate understood, and signified to the nuns -that this particular lamb desired to wander. That very evening Julienne -left the convent. - -Here follows a somewhat obscure interlude in the girl's life. We meet -her next among the pupils of the sculptor Pradier, in 1825. - -James Pradier: to those of our generation this name recalls merely a -number of groups and statues: statues more graceful than chaste, groups -more elegant than virile; the work of a master who aimed at rivalling -Praxiteles, but only succeeded in treading in the footsteps of Clodion. - -Pradier, however, only needs a careful biographer to acquire another -kind of celebrity: that of an artist, _grand viveur_, magnificent and -vain, careless and weak, born too late to lead without scandal the -frivolous life he loved, too early to acquire by industry the fortune -needed for the indulgence of his tastes. - -Twice a week his studio was transformed into a drawing-room, and his -receptions were attended by a most varied company: painters and poets, -models, actresses, dames of high degree, politicians and men of the -sword--all society, in short, liked to be seen in the Rue de l'Abbaye. - -Clad in high boots, cut low in front, in violet velvet trousers and a -coat of the same material decorated with Polish brandebergs, flanked by -a Scotch greyhound almost as big as himself, the master of the house -received his visitors, listened to them, talked with them, without -interrupting his work; he created fresh marvels with the chisel while -the conversation flowed unrestrained, and thus his labours became -simultaneously a gossip and a spectacle. - -In the novel excitement of surroundings so brilliant, so varied, and of -morals so easy, Julienne committed the imprudence which was to settle -the fate of her whole life. Thanks to her independent spirit, and still -more to her beauty, she very soon established her position in Pradier's -house. She came there often, remained long, and consented to pose for -him.[2] - -And when, one day, the sculptor desired for himself this flower, so -superior in delicacy and aroma to those usually found in the studios, he -had but to bend down and pluck it. - -[Illustration: CLAIRE PRADIER AS A CHILD. - -From an unpublished drawing by Pradier.] - -He made Julienne his mistress in 1825. In 1826 she gave him a little -daughter whom we shall meet again later. But now arose difficulties of a -practical nature. James Pradier, ex-Prix de Rome, Chevalier de la Legion -d'Honneur, Membre de l'Institut, Professeur de l'Ecole des -Beaux-Arts, could not with propriety, according to his ideas, marry a -model. He does not dream of it for an instant, but, as he wishes to do -the girl some kindness, however unsuitable, he manages to insinuate her -into the theatrical world, and to put her on the boards. Having friends -in Brussels, he decrees that she shall go thither to study and make her -first appearance; and, as she needs guidance, advice, and protection, he -writes her almost every day long letters, in which platitudes alternate -with vulgarity. The correspondence continues, wordy and trivial, -interminable and foolish, a repulsive mixture of boasting and preaching. -Does Julienne show distaste for vaudeville, Pradier proclaims that form -of acting to be the most charming in the world, and places it far above -tragedy, which he pronounces tiresome and chilling. If Julienne -complains that she has but one dress, Pradier tells her that only the -leading lights of the stage possess more. If she ventures a timid -request for money, he answers that he has none himself, and offers her a -book of fairy-tales illustrated under his supervision. - -She had to keep herself alive somehow, and when the poor thing had -pledged everything she possessed at the pawnbroker's, she wrote -plaintively: "This is the only money my talents have earned for me so -far." She might perhaps have been reduced to some desperate measure, had -not chance placed her in the path of Felix Harel. - -Although an incorrigible Bonapartist, and consequently a conspirator by -trade, Harel seems to have been above all a man of the theatre: in the -midst of his political preoccupations, one can always discern his -predilection for things pertaining to the stage. He also had a very -definite conviction that politics and the drama, statesmen and -ballet-dancers, have always been closely linked together. So, whether he -was for the moment pamphleteer, financier, or prefect, whether he was -holding an appointment, or in full flight, he always had a finger in -some theatrical pie, either as a director, a manager, or a private -adviser. At the time he first met Julienne, he was filling the latter -capacity at the Theatre Royal, in Brussels. He presented the young -woman. Without further training than that which Pradier had directed -from afar, we know that she made her first appearance in Brussels, at -the beginning of the year 1829--to be exact, on February 17th. - -On that day she informs Pradier that her debut has been successful, and -that the Brussels press is favourable. He at once thanks Providence and -decides that she can henceforth support herself by her talent. He -writes: "Is not this a great pleasure to you? Does it not lift a weight -from your heart, you who have such a noble soul? How sweet is the bread -one has earned so honourably! For my part, I feel that all your faults -are condoned by the trouble you are taking. Your perseverance will be -rewarded, never doubt it. Go on working! Time can never hang heavy when -one is labouring honestly; study carries more flowers than thorns." - -Having spoken thus, the artist returned to his business and his -pleasures, not without having exhorted Julienne to remain in Brussels as -long as possible. He was not ignorant of the passionate desire of the -young woman to see her babe once more, but he feared that, if she should -not find an engagement in Paris like the one she enjoyed in Brussels, -she would again be, morally at least, on his hands. Therefore, -redoubling his cautious advice and his counsels of prudence, he implored -her not to relinquish a certainty for an uncertainty. - -However, nothing deterred her. Julienne, as she used to say afterwards, -would rather have trudged the distance that separated her from her -child, on foot, than waited any longer. The events of 1829 spared her -the trouble. Owing to certain evidences of internal discontent, the -government of Charles X was developing liberal proclivities. Among other -political exiles, it allowed Felix Harel to return, and with him his -illustrious mistress, Mlle. Georges. Julienne shared their lot. She -accompanied them, not only to Paris, but to the Theatre of the Porte St. -Martin, which, under Harel's influence, rapidly became the stronghold of -romanticism, and on February 27th, 1830, she made her debut on its -boards in the part of Emma, in _L'Homme du Monde_, by Ancelot and -Saintine. Then she migrated almost at once to the Odeon, of which Harel -had just undertaken the management, without, however, resigning that of -the Porte St. Martin. She played various parts there throughout the year -1831. - -We shall hear later on that she was beautiful, but for the present we -must confine ourselves to the question of her talent and dramatic -qualities. It has been hinted that she owed her success solely to her -lovely face and graceful figure, and that she was one of those ephemeral -favourites who reap popular applause in return for the exhibition of -their charms. The truth seems to be that "la belle Juliette," as she was -already called, gave proofs of distinguished powers, although one is -fain to admit that, at this distance of time, it is not easy to define -her capacity with any exactitude. For one thing, it was never Juliette's -good fortune to play an important part which has since become a classic, -and by which her true qualities could be gauged: in Harel's troupe the -first-class parts were already justly monopolised by Mlle. Georges and -Madame Dorval. Also, nearly all the plays in which Juliette appeared are -nowadays looked upon as antiquated and sometimes even absurd. In fact, -it is difficult to conceive how they ever could have been given. It will -be wiser, therefore, to rely mainly on Pradier's letters to discover -what were the natural gifts which could have inspired that artist to -make of his mistress an actress, and even a tragedian. - -Pradier, then, considered Juliette well equipped by nature in respect of -sentiment, intelligence, and voice production; but he criticised in her -a certain timidity and lack of assurance, sufficient to mar her -entrances and cover her exits with ridicule. He also thought fit to -observe to her that, once she was on the scene, and had overcome her -initial fright, she overacted her parts, and was not sufficiently -natural; she forgot to address herself to the audience, and would speak -into the wings, and neglect to vary her gestures, intonations, and -pauses. - -To sum up, fire, intelligence, and an adequate vocal organ, but shyness, -awkwardness, monotonous delivery, and hesitation in gesture and gait: -such seem to have been the dramatic qualities and shortcomings of "la -belle Juliette." The testimony of Pradier has been confirmed by that of -_L'Artiste_. If there is any need to say more, we can judge by an -analysis of her engagements with Harel. - -On February 7th, 1832, Harel signs a contract with her for thirteen -months, to begin from the March 1st following. He brings her back from -the Odeon to the Porte St. Martin, and promises her the modest salary of -four thousand francs per annum, payable monthly. But he does not treat -her as a "general utility" actress--on the contrary, he insists that she -keep principally to the part of _jeune premiere_ in comedy, tragedy, and -drama; that she learn daily at least forty lines or verses of the parts -which shall be allotted to her; that she furnish at her own expense all -the dresses necessary for her parts; that she be present at all -rehearsals called by the administration of the theatre. On January 13th, -1833, the two agree that the engagement shall be prolonged on the same -conditions until April 1st, 1834. Between whiles, Juliette continued to -create parts. - -It must be confessed that she led the customary life of a theatrical -star. From the Boulevard St. Denis, where she lived, to the Boulevard du -Temple, which was then the hub of the social world and the centre of -amusement, the distance was negligible. She was therefore present at -every scene of this ceaseless round of entertainment. Her wardrobe -enjoyed a certain renown. Her journeys, one of which was to Italy -towards the end of 1832, helped to keep her before the public. Beautiful -as a goddess, merrier than ever, her bearing unconcerned, her arm -lightly placed within that of the chance companion of the moment, her -eyes flashing fire, though her heart might be full to bursting, she -sailed towards Cytheraea without apparent regret, without thought of -return. It was at this moment that Victor Hugo succeeded in bringing her -back into port, and keeping her there for ever, the slave of one master, -the woman of one love. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -PRINCESSE NEGRONI - - -Two portraits of Victor Hugo are extant: one by Deveria executed in -1829, the other by Leon Noel in 1832.[3] What a change is visible in the -short space of three years! The "monumental" brow which reminded -Theophile Gautier of the "fronton de temple Grec" is the same; but, -whereas in 1829 it was instinct with lofty thought and pleasant fancies, -in 1832 worry and suspicion have already scored it deeply with lines of -care. In 1829 Deveria recognised and rendered the characteristic -expression of the poet: that bright, upward glance which ten years -before had caused the author of the _Odes_ to be compared to a -stained-glass archangel. In 1832 Leon Noel saw a fixed, overshadowed -gaze, whose severity is further accentuated by knitted brows. In 1829 -fleshy, sinuous lips always half ready for a smile or a kiss, indicate -both sensuality and humour. In 1832 they are tightly compressed, their -outline exaggeratedly firm; they give the impression of having forgotten -joy and learnt to express only will. Even in the quality of the -flesh-tints the artists disagree. According to Deveria the pallor -natural to the poet bears the impress of health and placidity, whereas -Leon Noel's rendering reveals sickliness and a sense of doom. - -What, then, had happened between the dates of the two portraits? Had the -whole character of the poet changed? Had he lost some precious article -of faith or conviction, or was it that the mainspring of his enthusiasm -had failed him? Nay--his soul still cherished the same treasures of -idealism. The former penitent of the Abbe Lammenais still preserved at -thirty his ardent, perhaps even narrow Catholicism, his cult of purity, -his contempt for physical indulgence, his delight in the joys and duties -of family life. Eager for self-sacrifice, rich in the hopes and -illusions he confided to his few intimate friends, he dreamed of sharing -everything with the people, towards whom the trend of events inclined -him to turn; just as he had once written _Les Lettres a la fiancee_ for -a single reader, so he had now published for the crowd _Les Feuilles -d'Automne_, the curious preface to that collection, and in the -collection itself the sublime _Priere pour tous_. His was a soul -profoundly religious, and a lofty mind which aspired to raise itself -ever higher. - -But he did not live by thought alone. Many of those who watched him -working without intermission, with a method and a will that defied human -weakness, who saw how numerous were his lectures, how varied his -researches, and who witnessed the incessant travail of his imagination, -thought that the author of _Hernani_ and _Dona Sol_ must be lacking in -human sensibility. He protests against this. In a letter to Sainte-Beuve -he says: "I live only by my emotions; to love, or to crave for love and -friendship, is the fundamental aim--happy or unhappy, public or -private--of my life."[4] He might equally have added: "That is why for -the last two years my brow is no longer placid, why my eyes seek the -ground, why my lips are so bitterly compressed." - -The secret of the change in Victor Hugo's physiognomy lies in the -treachery of his wife and his best friend. Love and friendship failed -him together. His moral distress was immense, his pain unfathomable. -They inspired him with plaints so touching that, after hearing them, one -asks oneself whether it can ever be possible for him to forget or -recover. One despairs of the healing of the man who writes: "I have -acquired the conviction that it is possible for the one who possesses -all my love to cease to care for me. I am no longer happy."[5] - -Calmness did return to him, however. It was thus: For the last ten -years, that is, practically ever since her marriage, Madame Victor Hugo -had behaved in such a manner that when the day of the betrayal, in which -she was the accomplice of his friend, dawned, the poet was able to -consider her with contempt. Although fairly gifted in appearance, she -possessed neither taste nor cleverness in the matter of dress; she had -always shown herself to him in careless attire and unfashionable gowns. -Absent-minded and limited in intelligence, she remained uncultured and -oblivious of the genius of her husband, and of achievements of which she -appreciated only the financial value. In addition, she had declined to -share the noble ideal originally proposed to her by her -twenty-year-old bridegroom: love considered as "the ardent and pure -union of two souls, a union begun on earth to end not even in -heaven."[6] The poet was thus authorised, and even forced, to seek -happiness in the arms of some other woman. If Victor Hugo had wished to -avoid that "other woman " he would have had to remain for ever concealed -in his tower of ivory--which certainly did not happen. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO AS A YOUNG MAN. - -In the possession of M. le D. F. Jousseaume.] - -He emerged from it in the spring of 1832, on May 26th, and appeared at -an artists' ball. There he saw Juliette for the first time; but she was -so beautiful and so captivating that he was afraid of her, and dared not -address her. Five years later he recorded this impression of admiring -timidity in the book in which they had agreed to celebrate all their -anniversaries, namely the _Voix Interieures_.[7] - -For more than six months the poet lacked the courage to seek his vision -again, but in the early days of 1833 he found Juliette among the -actresses Harel suggested to him at the Porte St. Martin for his play, -_Lucrece Borgia_. He accepted her at once and gave her a small part, -that of Princesse Negroni. Then the rehearsals began. Juliette admits in -one of her letters that she showed herself very coquettish and -mischievous. - -According to her, the poet made up his mind the first day and the first -hour. But matters did not really proceed so easily. Victor Hugo, who, as -stated above, cherished the highest and purest moral ideal, must have -carried his principles with him into the wings and on the stage. He was -not partial to actresses; he was suspicious of them, and made no secret -of the feeling. One must picture him rather as on the defensive than -bold and adventurous. - -His attire and appearance were not calculated to ensure his social -success. We hear from Juliette herself that he wore his hair _en -broussaille_, and that his smile revealed "crocodile's teeth." Allowing -himself to be dressed by his tailor in the fashions of four or five -years earlier, his trousers were firmly braced above the waist, tightly -drawn over his boots, and fastened under the instep by a steel chain. To -sum up, as a dandy who writes these details concludes, he was a worthy -citizen desirous of being in the fashion, but unable to compass it. - -Fortunately the said citizen could speak, and his words of gold were -sufficient to gloss over any personal disadvantages. To men he -discoursed of his hopes and plans, and even his forecasts for the -future; to women of their beauty and the supremacy of such a gift. Men -found his arrogance intolerable, and complained that they must always -either listen, or talk to him of himself. But women liked him for -abasing his pride before them; they appreciated his good manners, his -urbanity, and the incomparable art with which he cast his laurels at -their feet. The god took on humanity for them; they were careful to pose -as goddesses before him. Juliette possessed everything needful to -accomplish this end. - -She was about to enter her twenty-sixth year; very shortly afterwards, -Theophile Gautier wrote this fulsome description of her, to please the -master: - -"Mademoiselle Juliette's countenance is of a regular and delicate -beauty; the nose chiselled and of handsome outline, the eyes limpid and -diamond-bright, the mouth moistly crimson, and tiny even in her gayest -fits of laughter. These features, charming in themselves, are set in an -oval of the suavest and most harmonious form. A clear, serene forehead -like the marble of a Greek temple crowns this delicious face; abundant -black hair, with wonderful reflections in it, brings out the diaphanous -and lustrous purity of her complexion. Her neck, shoulders, and arms, -are of classic perfection; she would be a worthy inspiration to -sculptors, and is well equipped to enter into competition with those -beautiful young Athenians who lowered their veils before the gaze of -Praxiteles conceiving his Venus.[8] - -These elegant phrases probably represent very imperfectly the impression -produced by Juliette. We have had the privilege of perusing some of the -proposals addressed to her, and we have read the cruel novel Alphonse -Karr prided himself on having written about her.[9] Everything conspires -to show that she shone and dazzled especially by her all-conquering air -of youth and ingenuousness. When she passed, spring was over. Her age, -condition, manner of life, had made of her a woman, while her smile and -movements kept her still a girl. Her gait was, in fact, so fairy-like -that her admirers all make use, certainly without collusion, of the -adjective, "aerien." Her face presented a perfect image of calmness and -purity. Did she raise her eyes, a soft, velvety, sometimes mournful gaze -was revealed--did she lower them, it was still the dawn, but a dawn -concealing itself behind a veil. - -All beautiful countenances have a soul; upon Juliette's could be read -less contentment than unsatisfied ardour, more melancholy than -serenity. Neither luxury, nor pleasure, nor flattery, was able to -satisfy the dearest desire of her heart from the age of sixteen, which -was, to become the passionate companion of an honest man. She lent -herself to her lovers, but her eyes made it plain that she still sought -the perfect one to whom she would some day capitulate. According to -herself--and we have no reason to doubt her--she selected Victor Hugo as -soon as she made his acquaintance. She expended herself in advances and -coquetries, and infused into the study and expression of her small part -all the art of which she was capable. In the third act of the play, when -Maffio said to her: "_L'amitie ne remplit pas tout le c[oe]ur_," she had -to query: "_Mon Dieu, qu'est-ce qui remplit tout le c[oe]ur?_" It seems -that at rehearsals she did not wait for Maffio's answer, but turned -subtly towards the poet and sought him with her eyes. He, however, still -hung back; a tradition attributed to Frederick Lemaitre, which we have -carefully verified,[10] informs us that he surprised even the actors of -the Porte St. Martin by the respectful tone he maintained towards his -beautiful interpreter. Far from addressing her in the familiar manner -customary in theatrical circles, he called her Mademoiselle Juliette, -kissed her hand, and bowed low before her. Frederick could not believe -his eyes. - -At last the evening of the first performance arrived; the success of the -piece was immediate. Juliette had her share of it. She was so beautiful -as the poisoner that, as Theophile Gautier says, the public forgot to -pity her unhappy guests and thought them fortunate to die after kissing -her hand.[11] After the third act she received congratulations even from -Mademoiselle Georges, who folded her in her arms and covered her with -kisses. As for the author, we do not know what he did in the first -blush, but the next morning he wrote thus: - -"In _Lucrece Borgia_, certain personages of secondary importance are -represented at the Porte St. Martin by actors of the first order, who -perform with grace, loyalty, and perfect taste, in the semi-obscurity of -their parts. The author here thanks them. Among these, the public -particularly distinguished Mademoiselle Juliette. It can hardly be said -that Princesse Negroni is a part: it is in some sense an apparition; a -figure, beautiful, young, fatal, which floats by, raising one corner of -the sombre veil that covers Italy at the commencement of the sixteenth -century. Mademoiselle Juliette threw into this figure an extraordinary -virility. She had few words to say, but she filled them with meaning. -This actress only requires opportunity, to reveal forcibly to the public -a talent full of soulfulness, passion, and truth."[12] - -Nothing could be better said or more openly declared, and the -interpreter of the part was thus informed of the intentions of the -author. He adopts her, makes her his own, is ready to share his own -glory with the youthful renown of Negroni. For her he will conceive -marvellous parts; she will create them. - -Juliette understood him perfectly. With the ardour of a -twenty-five-year-old imagination excited by love, she began to dream of -her poet, of their two lives henceforward united in a common success. -While Victor still wavered, still hesitated whether to seek this actress -of whom thousands of alarming anecdotes were current, she made foolish -projects, settled trivial details, savoured one by one those joys of the -dawn of love which so many women prefer to the delights of possession. - -He came at last on February 27th, Shrove Sunday, towards the end of the -afternoon. The weather had been beautiful, one of those soft spring days -that enhance the beauty of Parisian women and make the men pensive. The -streets were littered with booths, noisy with fireworks, discordant with -raucous voices. The Boulevard du Temple exploited a fair where, on that -particular day, masks and songs added variety and movement. - -Victor Hugo, who lived in the Place Royale and never drove in a cab, had -to cross this scene on foot. His thoughts were still confused; he, who -was ordinarily so determined in his plans, still debated whether he -should mount the actress's stairs. After all, this child seemed fond of -him--but whom was she not fond of? Who was there that did not figure on -the list of her lovers? Yesterday, Alphonse Karr, loutish, a babbler, a -writer of romances, fairly honest, but so ponderous in his pretentious -and everlasting coat of black velvet! To-day a Russian Prince who was -said to have offered Juliette a marvellous trousseau, copied from the -wedding outfit of Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans. He was also credited -with the intention of installing her in a sumptuous apartment in the Rue -de l'Echiquier.... What should a poet, a great poet conscious of his -mission, want with such a girl? - -Then a voice sang in the memory of Victor Hugo, a voice almost -supernatural, like those with which he used to endow the good fairies in -the days when he covered the margins of his lesson-books with fancies. -"_Mon Dieu_," it wailed, "_qu'est-ce qui remplit tout le c[oe]ur?_" And -at last the poet walked up to place the answer at the feet of his new -friend. - -Like all great hearts, Victor and Juliette fell head over ears in love, -and thought of nothing else. The poet was no longer to be found in the -Place Royale, or, if he was, he remained abstracted, a stranger at his -own hearth. He, usually so precise, so punctual and methodical, now -neglects his guests and is late for meals. When evening comes and his -drawing-room is filled with voices, song, and discussion, and with women -who smile upon him and men who render him homage, he forgets everything, -even to be polite. His eye is on the clock, he longs for the blessed -hour of the _rendezvous_ at 9, Rue St. Denis. Sometimes he snatches up a -stray sheet of paper and scribbles feverishly. Verse or prose? More -often it is verse, for it will be offered to Juliette, and nothing -flatters her so much as these poetical surprises created in the midst of -the din and diversions of a social circle. - -Neither did she give herself in niggardly fashion. From the very -beginning she said to him: "I am good for nothing but to love you!" She -threw herself thoroughly, magnificently, into the part. - -Thus quoth she--and wrote likewise, for she, also, wrote from -everywhere: from her room, from a friend's house, from her box at the -theatre, from a chance cafe. For her tender "scribbles," as she calls -them, any scrap of paper will serve, even an envelope or the margin of a -newspaper; and for instrument a pencil, a blackened pin, even a steel -pen, that novel invention of which every one is talking, but which she -hardly knows how to use. - -Of the form of her letters she takes little heed. No lexicon is needed -to say that one loves. A woman in the throes of passion does not worry -about grammar. Juliette is of that opinion, and that is why her early -letters are so full of charm. They exhale the perfume of love, and also -its timidity. - -Her letters were not merely a means of giving vent to her feelings: they -seemed to her the only occupation fit for a sweetheart worthy of the -name, when the lover is absent or delayed. On February 18th, 1833, -Victor Hugo had left her early in the morning. She had rushed to the -window to follow him with her eyes as long as he was in sight. At the -corner of the Rue St. Denis, as he was about to turn into the Rue St. -Martin, he looked back; they exchanged a volley of kisses. Then she -found herself lonely indeed, oblivious of her surroundings, like a -somnambulist who walks and speaks and acts in a dream. Around her was an -immense void, in her heart one sole desire: to see the poet again, and -never to part from him. It was to fill that void and beguile that desire -that she took up the habit of writing to him. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN THE ROLE OF LA PRINCESSE NEGRONI.] - -He, on his part, repaid letters and messages as much as possible with -his own presence. Any time he could snatch from his children and work -and visits to publishers or theatre-managers, he gave to Juliette. As -_Lucrece Borgia_ continued to reap a signal success--the greatest, from -the financial point of view, that the Porte St. Martin had ever -experienced--Harel asked the author for a new play. Victor Hugo wrote -_Marie Tudor_ in very few days, and the principal parts had just been -allotted: to Mademoiselle Georges the Queen, to Juliette, Jane. Under -pretext of rehearsing, we find our lovers lunching together almost every -day. If there was really a rehearsal, they met again afterwards on the -stage, and tasted the rare pleasure of sharing their work, as they -shared their pleasure. When they did not rehearse, they hurried out of -town. Furtively yet boldly, timidly but merrily, they started on one of -those strolls, partly Parisian, and partly suburban, which, according to -Juliette, were the chief enchantment of their _liaison_. - -Paris was not then the dusty conglomeration of eight-story-high houses -it now is. Instead of spreading over the surrounding country, it allowed -the country to encroach upon itself. At the foot of Montmartre (which -Juliette always calls a _mountain_), real windmills waved their long -arms; along the Butte aux Cailles a genuine brook purled among the -lilacs and syringa; on the summit of Montparnasse, when there was -dancing, artists and poets, dandies and grisettes, trod actual grass, to -the sound of fiddles! Juliette had always in her a strain of -bohemianism. We may therefore picture her in short, striped, pleated -skirt, tight at the waist but flowing out wide at the bottom over white -stockings, a little silken cape covering her queenly young bosom, -without concealing its fine lines, her head surmounted by a rose-trimmed -bonnet with black ribbons, clasping the arm of her "friend" with -sparkling eyes and cheeks as rosy as her headdress. Happiness, as she -used to say in after-days, is so light to carry, that her feet hardly -touched the ground. Her pride in her companion was such that her glance -defied Heaven. "When I hold your arm," she wrote to him, "I am as proud -as if I had made you myself." - -She did _re_make him, to a certain extent, for it was she who insisted -upon his becoming younger and smarter in appearance. He now trained his -chestnut locks over his Olympian brow, in careful but unromantic -fashion; his black eyes, with their blue depths, resumed their upward -glance, when they were not plunged in those of his mistress; his -complexion, which had been so pale, now gained colour, and soon, when -Auguste de Chatillon paints the poet's miniature for Juliette's -pleasure, he will be able to endow him with lips less eloquent than -caressing, without straying from the truth. "The dear little -fashionable," as his companion called him, compressed his sturdy figure -into a really handsome blue coat opening over a shot waistcoat. His -immaculate linen, and the scarlet ribbon of the order Charles X had -bestowed upon him in his youth, stood out in pleasant contrast to the -sombre hue of his coat. His tiny feet, and hands as delicate as -Juliette's own, completed this somewhat incongruous exterior. - -And the two made expeditions together, wherever they knew of, or hoped -to find, moss and trees, and an attractive shelter. They went to -Montmartre and Montrouge, to Maison Blanche and St. James, to Bicetre -and Meudon, Fontainebleau, Gisors, St. Germain-en-Laye, and Versailles. -Sometimes the poet pondered his work as he walked. Silence was then the -order of the day; so Juliette was silent. But more often they talked, -made plans for the future, babbled merry nonsense, and exchanged kisses. -Or else they discussed their past: Victor told of his studious childhood -spent poring over books, of his early works, laborious and chaste. -Juliette recalled her bare-footed school-girl pranks. Both gloried in -the radiant memories of their youth. - -But in the midst of those halcyon days of simple pleasures, Fate began -to show herself unkind. First came the failure of _Marie Tudor_, then -Juliette's disappointment at the Comedie Francaise, and, in addition, -the persecution of her creditors and the consequent quarrels with Victor -Hugo, with their subsequent scenes of tender reconciliation. - -The poor girl was, in fact, overwhelmed with debt. When Victor Hugo, -desirous of setting her free for ever, asked her to draw up a detailed -statement of her affairs, she nearly broke down under the task, for -there were not only ordinary bills, such as 12,000 fr. to Janisset the -jeweller, 1,000 fr. to Poivin the glove-maker, 600 fr. to the laundress, -260 fr. to Georges the hair-dresser, 400 fr. to Villain the purveyor of -rouge, 620 fr. to Madame Ladon, dressmaker, 2,500 fr. to Mesdames -Lebreton and Gerard for dress materials, 1,700 fr. to Jourdain the -upholsterer--but also fictitious and usurious debts intended to disguise -money loans, and all the more numerous because they were for the most -part invented under the direction of an attorney who answered to the -name of Maniere. She took good care not to reveal to Victor Hugo, whose -own burdens, and practical, economical mind, she was well acquainted -with, the amount of her expenditure and the magnitude of her -liabilities. The moment came, however, when the creditors realised that -they had to deal with a pretty woman inefficiently vouched for by a -poet. They lost patience and threatened her, and it was then that -Juliette had recourse to money-lenders. The remedy was worse than the -evil. Stamped paper soon flooded her rooms. Her furniture was seized, -and also her salaries from the Theatre Francais and the Porte St. -Martin. She tried to save a few clothes, and was had up for illegally -making away with the creditors' property. Her landlord threatened her -with expulsion; she imagined herself homeless, and lost her head. - -Instead of confiding in Victor Hugo, her natural protector, she had -recourse to former friends. There were many such, from Pradier, the -sculptor, to Sechan, the scene-painter of the Opera and other theatres. -Pradier replied with advice; he was not without just pretext for -refusal, for, since her intrigue with Victor Hugo, Juliette no longer -wrote to the father of her child except "_par accident et monosyllabes_" -or else in a school-girl's handwriting, calculated to cover the pages in -very few words. Sechan and a few others were less stingy; they sent -small but quite insufficient contributions. She was therefore forced to -take the big step of revealing the whole truth to the beloved. - -The scene was stormy, although Victor Hugo did not hesitate for a moment -before complying with an obligation that was also a satisfaction, since -it secured his possession of Juliette. Fussy and meticulous though he -was in the small circumstances of life, he knew how to be generous and -even lavish in the great--but Juliette's petty deceptions had infused -doubts in his mind; moreover, he was in love and therefore jealous. -Towards the end of 1833 and in the early part of 1834, suspicion, anger, -unjust recriminations and noisy quarrels became almost daily affairs. As -invariably happens in these cases, friends, male and female, interfered. -Juliette was slandered by Mademoiselle Ida Ferrier, her understudy in -the role of Jane at the Porte St. Martin--who would, if rumour may be -trusted, have gladly understudied her also in the heart of Victor -Hugo--also by Mademoiselle Georges, who was getting on in years[13] and -could not forgive the lovers for not acknowledging her sovereignty in -the green-room and drawing-room as they admitted it upon the stage. To -aspersions and reproaches Juliette opposed, not only indignation, but -angry words, violent retorts, and sometimes even insulting epithets; or -else she protested in innumerable letters and notes, rendered eloquent -by their sincerity. She complained that she was "attacked without the -means of defence, soiled without opportunity of cleansing herself, -wounded without chance of healing"; she affirmed her intention of -putting an end to the situation by suicide or final rupture. Generally -Victor Hugo arrived in time to calm her frenzy with a caress or a -soothing word, and then Juliette would try to resign herself and let -hope spring uppermost once more. But Victor Hugo, under the influence of -some new tittle-tattle, resumed his grand-inquisitorial manner, and the -tone, words, reproaches and even threats appertaining to the part. The -creditors continued to harry her without intermission; so in the end the -couple passed from words to actions. - -As we have stated above, Juliette's furniture had been seized, and she -was about to be turned out of her apartment in the Rue de l'Echiquier. -She had endeavoured vainly to interest her friends, past and present, in -her difficulties. Even Victor Hugo, disheartened probably by the -difficulties of the task, had returned a refusal. The lovers therefore -exchanged farewells which they thought final, and on August 3rd Juliette -started for St. Renan, near Brest, where her sister, Madame Kock, was -living. Happily she travelled by the Rennes diligence, and there were -many halts on the way. From the very first of these she sent an adoring -letter to the poet. She wrote again from Rennes, from Brest once more, -and lastly from St. Renan. Victor Hugo responded with expressions of -poignant regret and remorse, according to those who have read them. He -promised to do his very best to find the few necessary banknotes to -satisfy the biggest creditors. In the end, he set out for Rennes -himself, and rejoined his friend. The lovers returned to Paris on August -10th. - -Now commences the most singular period of the life of Juliette, one -which has been aptly entitled an "amorous redemption after the romantic -manner."[14] For nearly two years Victor Hugo, taking his mistress as -the subject of his experiment, put into practice the theories, in part -religious, and in part philosophical, which he professed concerning -courtesans, namely: the expiation of faults by faithful, passionate, -disinterested love; love itself being considered as a species of -_sesame_, capable of opening wide the doors of science, and throwing -light upon all hidden things. - -The first condition of redemption was poverty, voluntarily, almost -joyously, accepted. The furniture of the Rue de l'Echiquier must be sold -and the beautiful rooms given up. A tiny apartment consisting of two -rooms and a kitchen was taken for Juliette at No. 4, Rue du Paradis au -Marais, at a yearly rental of 400 fr. There she shivered through the -winter, and spent part of her days in bed to economise her fuel; but at -least she proved that she loved truly and was deserving of love. - -No more dresses or jewels ... every evening Victor Hugo repeated to his -mistress that dress adds nothing to the charms of a lovely woman, that -it is waste of time to try to add to nature where nature herself is -beautiful; and proudly, as if indeed she were clothed in the hair-shirt -of her former mistresses at the convent, Juliette wrote: "My poverty, my -clumsy shoes, my faded curtains, my metal spoons, the absence of all -ornament and pleasure apart from our love, testify at every hour and -every minute, that I love you with all my heart." - -But there can be no true reformation or conversion without work. So -Juliette must work; she must study her parts, make her clothes and even -some of Victor Hugo's, patch others, keep her little house in order, and -spend what leisure she can snatch, in copying the works of the master, -cutting out extracts from the newspapers, classifying and collecting his -manuscripts and proofs. - -When he had completed this splendid programme, of which almost every -part, as we shall presently see, was carried out to the letter, the poet -experienced an overpowering need to find himself alone somewhere with -the woman he had finally subjugated. His mind was still quite Virgilian. -He had not yet arrived at confusing duty with politics and happiness -with popularity. His greatest enjoyment, next to love, was in rural -pursuits, and for the indulgence of these he flattered himself he had -discovered in Juliette a companion worthy of himself. The lovers had -barely settled in the Rue du Paradis au Marais before they went off to -the valley of Bievres. Half mystics, half pagans, worshipping equally at -the shrines of the forest divinities and those of the village churches, -they entered upon the consummation of what they themselves called their -"marriage of escaped birds." - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN THE ROLE OF LA PRINCESSE NEGRONI.] - -[Illustration: HOUSE IN THE VILLAGE OF LES METZ, IN THE PARISH OF -JOUY-EN-JOSAS, SEINE-ET-OISE, - -In which Juliette Drouet lived while Victor Hugo was staying at Les -Roches. This is the house referred to in _La Tristesse d'Olympio_.] - - - - -CHAPTER III - -"LA TRISTESSE D'OLYMPIO" - - -In the neighbourhood of Paris, about four miles from Versailles, nestles -a valley which the modern devotees of romance should deem worthy of a -visit. Not because it boasts of any special features, such as mighty -torrents thundering from giddy heights into abysmal precipices below--on -the contrary, its character is harmonious and serene, more like a French -park decked with flowers by nature, and watered by chance--but because -in these classic surroundings, about the year 1830, circumstances led -the great men of the new school to seek temporary repose for their -fretted souls. To us, these peaceful meadows, flanked by pensive willows -weeping on the borders of the silent Bievres, must evermore be peopled -by those troubled shades: by Lammenais, the priestly keeper of -consciences, Montalembert, the angelic doctor, Sainte-Beuve, the -purveyor of ideas, Berlioz, the musician, and, lastly, by the poet, -Victor Hugo, who followed meekly in the rear, while awaiting the glory -of conducting the procession. - -They used to arrive in the summer, some for a couple of days, others for -weeks together, to stay with Monsieur Bertin, editor of the _Journal des -Debats_ and owner of Les Roches,[15] a property situated midway between -the villages of Bievres and Jouy-en-Josas. Genial and lively, as Ingres -represents him in his celebrated portrait, Monsieur Bertin loved to -divine, promote, and, where needful, encourage their vocations and -plans. His housekeeping was on a modest scale, but his hospitality -delightful--a mixture of go-as-you-please and kindly despotism; perfect -freedom outwardly, but, in reality, careful ministrations skilfully -disguised. Louise Bertin, the eldest daughter of the old man, and one of -the muses of the period, willingly divided her time between the kitchen -and the drawing-room, cookery-books and poems. As an ardent musician, -tolerably familiar with the best literature, her mind was full of -quaintness, while her heart was instinct with kindliness. When, -perchance, she had surfeited her guests with sonatas and song, she would -be seized with fear lest she should be interfering with their habits or -inclinations, and would hastily substitute anarchy, by commanding each -one to choose his own occupation, and pursue his meditation, walk, or -game unhindered. - -Of them all, Victor Hugo seems to have been the girl's favourite, and -the one who made the largest use of this generous welcome and charming -liberty. As soon as the periwinkles blossomed, he settled his wife and -children at Les Roches, while he himself came and went between Paris and -Bievres. Gradually he grew to associate the valley with his joys and -sorrows; it became one of those familiar haunts to which one -instinctively turns, with the comforting assurance of finding there the -outward conditions suitable to one's moods. As a young father, he made -it the fitting frame for family joys; when his love was flung back in -his face and his friendship betrayed, he returned to seek, if not -consolation, at least faith and hope for the future. A year later, again -under the shelter of Les Roches, he thought he had found solace. The -valley meant something more than an invitation to dawdle: it filled him -with sensuous suggestion; he longed to place his ideal of an -unquenchable love at the feet of a woman, and to pronounce the word -"Forever." - -With the connivance of Madame Victor Hugo, who shut her eyes, and that -of Mademoiselle Louise Bertin, who smiled her toleration,[16] this -happiness came to him at length; not indeed in the first year of his -passion for Juliette, but in the early part of the second. He brought -his mistress to Bievres and to Jouy on July 4th, 1834, a little before -the tragic crisis that so nearly separated the lovers, as we have -related in the foregoing chapter. - -Juliette immediately fell in love with the scenes the poet had so often -and so eloquently described to her. Of their joint visit to the Ecu de -France, the little inn at Jouy-en-Josas,[17] she drew up, in fun, one of -those mock official reports in which she excelled. They decided to -return and lunch, no matter where, or how, provided it was neither too -near nor too far from Les Roches. Then they set out in quest of rooms, -which they eventually found in the hamlet of Metz, on the summit of the -hill above Jouy on the northern side. They returned to Paris after -paying over to the proprietor, Sieur Labussiere, the sum of 92 frs. for -a year's rent. Thither they came in September for a sojourn of six -weeks, after the troubled interval described above. - -The little house does not seem to have been altered at all.[18] It was -originally built for the game-keeper of the neighbouring chateau, which -belonged to Cambaceres. It still spreads its white frontage, pierced -with green-shuttered windows, against the background of woods. It -consists only of a ground-floor and an attic; a rambling vine covers its -walls; around it are scattered a barn, some outhouses, and an orchard, -whose steep sides slope downwards to a gate opening on to the Jouy road. - -With the assistance of the landlady, Mere Labussiere, as she calls her, -Juliette undertook to perform the lighter tasks of housekeeping in the -mornings, and it was understood that Victor Hugo should visit her every -afternoon unless some grave impediment prevented him. - -But the walk from Les Roches to Les Metz was long: not much under two -miles, by rough roads. The lovers agreed therefore to meet half-way, by -a path settled beforehand, and to abandon the Labussiere roof-tree for -some leafy bower. Thus began, as Juliette writes, their "bird-life in -the woods." - -Victor Hugo had a choice of three ways when he went to meet his lady. -One led across the valley of Bievres; another, along the pavement,[19] -as the high road from Bievres to Versailles was called; and lastly there -was the woodland path, which they both preferred. Victor Hugo started by -the Vauboyau road, plunged into the woods skirting the boundary of the -Chateau of Les Roches, then, turning to the left, walked straight on as -far as the four cross-roads at l'Homme Mort, and bore to the right -towards the Cour Roland. There, in the hollow of a hundred-year-old -chestnut-tree, all bent and twisted, his lady-love would be awaiting -him. - -Clad in a dress of white jaconet striped with pink, such as she usually -affected, her head covered with an Italian straw hat, left over from the -days of her former affluence, with swelling bosom, rosy cheeks, and -smiling mouth, she resembled a flower springing from the rude calyx -formed by the aged tree. A wide-awake flower, indeed, for, from the -first sign of the approach of Victor Hugo, she would fly to him, and -afford him one more opportunity of admiring the far-famed aerial gait, -that fairy footstep, so light that it had been compared to the sound of -a lyre. - -Then followed kisses, caresses, a flood of soft words, more kisses, and -a rapid rush into the cool green depths whither the twitter of birds -invited them. When they issued forth again, silent now, Juliette walked -first, making it a point of honour to push aside the branches and thorns -before her poet; and he was content, gazing upon the tiny traces left -upon the moss or sand by the feet that looked almost absurd by reason -of their minuteness. - -At the far end of a clearing a fountain burbled. Juliette made a hollow -of her little hands and collected a delicious draught for their burning -lips. Drops dribbled from between her fingers, and, seeing them, her -lover knew that here was a fairy able to "transmute water into -diamonds."[20] - -We must not imagine, however, that the treasure of their love expended -itself entirely in this sportive fashion. If it be true that passion is -the stronger for an admixture of intellect, it follows that only persons -of distinguished parts are capable of extracting the full measure of -delight from sentimental intercourse. Victor Hugo was far too wise to -neglect the training of the sensibilities of his young mistress. Like -some block of rare marble, she submitted herself to this able sculptor -in the charming simplicity of a nature somewhat uncultivated and rugged, -as she herself owns, and he perceived in the formless material the -growing suggestion of the finished statue he was soon to evolve. The -forest was the studio whither he came every afternoon to cultivate, -through novel sensations and delights, his own poetry and eloquence. The -forest gave him colour for colour, music for music.... - -At other times Victor Hugo encouraged in Juliette an inclination for -prayer and tearful repentance. He retained, and she had always -possessed, strong Catholic sensibilities. The mere satisfaction of -sensuality without the hallowing influence of absorbing love spelt -defilement, from their point of view. Hence followed painful remorse for -a past which the lover liked to hear his mistress bewail, and which she -despaired of ever redeeming. Her _role_ was the abasement of Magdalen; -his, the somewhat strained attitude of an apostle or saviour. - -Nothing could be more peaceful or uneventful than Juliette's evenings. -She devoured with the appetite of an ogress the frugal supper put before -her by Madame Labussiere, repaired the damage done to her clothes by the -afternoon's ramble, or studied some of the parts in which she hoped to -appear sooner or later at the Theatre Francais. At ten o'clock she went -to bed. This was the much-prized moment of her solitude, when she -retired, as she says, into the happy background of her heart to rehearse -in spirit the simple events and delights of the day, to recall the face -of her lover, see him, speak to him, and hang upon his answers; then, as -drowsiness gradually gained the upper hand and clouds dimmed the dear -outline, to surrender to slumber. It was at Les Metz that she coined the -happy phrase: "I fall asleep in the thought of you." Sometimes the wind -moaning in the heights awoke her, and she resumed her sweet musing. The -poet was in the habit of working at night; she would picture him in his -room at Les Roches, bending over his writing-table. Then she "blessed -the gale that made her the companion of the dear little workman's vigil -across the intervening space." - -As soon as dawn broke she was up again. She jumped out of bed, ran to -the window, opened the shutters, and interrogated the heavens--not that -she feared rain, any more than she minded "blisters on her feet or -scratches on her hands"--but she had only two dresses, a woollen and a -linen, and the condition of the weather controlled her choice of the -two. Her toilet was rapid, her breakfast simple. She spent the remaining -time copying the manuscripts confided to her by Victor Hugo. Then, -lightly running, as she says, like a hare across the plain, she started -for the rendezvous. As becomes a loving woman, she was always first at -the trysting-tree. She scrutinised the intertwined initials she herself -had carved upon its bark, or conned again from memory the verses she had -found the day before in its hollow trunk. She "sings them in her heart," -presses them to her bosom, and kisses the letters she has brought in -answer. - -[Illustration: CHURCH OF BIEVRES, SEINE-ET-OISE.] - -For the chestnut-tree served them as a letter-box as well as a shelter. -According to an arrangement between them, the first thing they did on -arrival was to deposit within its friendly shade everything they had -written in the course of the preceding day for, or about, one another. -On Juliette's part, especially, the letters became more and more -numerous: two, four, sometimes six per day. She no longer wrote, as at -first, to expatiate upon her passion or assure the poet that she loved -him with real love, or to relieve boredom and make the hours of her -solitude pass more quickly. She wrote because Victor Hugo, who had -formerly been indifferent to her "scribbles," now exacted them as a -daily tribute, and reproached her if they were too brief or not numerous -enough. This jealous lover had discovered the advantages of a pretty -woman's mania for writing. When thus occupied, he reflected, she is -contented. He also found that her letters were full of enthusiasm, -humour, feeling, fun, and poetry, and he therefore desired that they -should be preserved; one day, when Juliette had thrown a packet of -them into the fire in a fit of temper, he made her write them all over -again. Juliette might protest prettily, entrench herself behind her -ignorance, and allege her want of intelligence; but the more she pleaded -that she knew not how to write, the more her lover insisted upon her -doing so. No one has ever carried to greater lengths that form of -affectation which consists in vilifying oneself in order to gain praise. -Having thus placed herself, as far as her style is concerned, in the -kneeling position she prefers, Juliette remains there. It is at Les Metz -that her letters commenced to be a hymn of praise in honour of her -divinity. Adoration and excessive adulation are their basis; for form -and imagery, Juliette does not hesitate to borrow from the sacred -writings she had studied at the Convent of Petit-Picpus. Sooth to say, -this mixture of religiosity and passion presents an aspect both -disproportionate and pathetic. When love raises itself--or degrades -itself--to this almost mystical adoration, one cannot be surprised if it -ends by believing in its own virtue. Having adopted the forms of -religion, it insensibly acquires its importance and dignity; it ennobles -itself. - -We do not possess Victor Hugo's answers, but partly from the note-books -in which his lady-love punctiliously copied and dated the poems -addressed to her, and partly from the dates inscribed at the bottom of -each page in the collected works of the poet, we know which of his -verses were composed during his sojourn at Les Metz. It is not too much -to say that the author of _Feuilles d'Automne_ was never more happily -inspired. Nowhere did he more closely approach the classical model he -had chosen at that time, the gentle Virgil. - -The lovers returned to Les Metz twice: once in October 1837 for a few -days, and again, for a day, on September 26th, 1845. In 1837 it was -Victor Hugo who directed the expedition and took the lead. He sought one -by one the traces of their _amours_; his eccentric genius admired -nature's grand indifference, which had failed to preserve them intact -for his honour and pleasure, and, deploring this ingratitude concerning -outward things, he composed that masterpiece, _La Tristesse d'Olympio_. -He laid it at the feet of Juliette, who accepted it, read and reread it, -and learnt it by heart, without criticising it. - -In 1845, the pilgrimage was hers; she planned it and begged for it, -writing on August 19th: "I have an inexpressible longing to see Les Metz -again. We absolutely must go there."[21] - -They did. Early in the month of September Juliette arranged the little -journey. Which dress should she wear? The striped organdy one, or the -blue tarlatan shot with white, she had worn a few months previously, at -the reception of St. Marc Girardin at the Academie Francaise? She chose -the former because her lover preferred it; the same reason determined -her to wear a straw hat "trimmed with geraniums above and below the -brim." Thus decked, with cheeks rosier than usual, and eyes glowing, -Juliette climbed with her poet into the omnibus from Paris to Sceaux. - -Victor Hugo disliked omnibuses, and especially that one. He remembered -his many drives in it with his friend Sainte-Beuve, at the time the -latter was most assiduous in his visits to Les Roches, and in spite of -himself he seemed to see the ghost of Joseph Delorme in the back seat, -with his ecclesiastical appearance, and his mania for nestling cosily -between two fat people. Silently the poet dwelt upon these memories, -while Juliette volubly recalled others. She wondered whether they would -find the beggar at the foot of the Bievres hill, into whose hands she -had often emptied her purse, in order that alms should bring them luck, -and whether the baker in the Square still made those little tarts her -lover used to be so fond of. At last the omnibus deposited them at -Bievres in front of the Chariot d'Or. The striped organdy dress created -a great sensation among the village children. Juliette rushed off to the -little church; nothing was changed--the same simplicity, the same -silence, the same brooding peace as in the old days. The young woman -fell on her knees, then, together, the lovers returned to the Chariot -d'Or, breakfasted, and started to walk to Les Roches. There again, in -Juliette's opinion, everything was unchanged. To the left, behind tall -grasses, the river flowed unseen and unheard. In deference to the needs -of man and those of the valley, its course had been diverted, and it now -spread itself through meadows and orchards. Its presence could be -divined from the abundance of flowers and reeds born of its moisture. -When they reached Les Roches, Juliette insisted upon abandoning the -valley for the forest. They ascended through Vauboyau to the wood of -l'Homme Mort. She walked straight to a chestnut-tree which she said she -recognised; then she found a mountain-ash upon whose bark she had once -carved their interlaced initials; after that the spring, and the paths. -She wished to revisit what she called "the chapels of their love," to -pay at each one a tribute of devotion.[22] - -At length they reached Les Metz and the house of the Labussiere. -Delirious enchantment! Everything was just as she remembered it: the -gate, the bell, the kitchen-garden, the mile-stone upon which she used -to sit to watch for her lover when the _rendezvous_ was at the cottage; -the bed, with its curtains of printed cotton, the rustic wardrobe, the -oak table.... "Heaven," she cried, "has put a seal upon all the -treasures of love we buried here! It has preserved them for us," and she -longed to take possession of them all and carry them away with her.[23] - -How charming Juliette is at this moment, and how superior to _Olympio_! -How preferable is her enthusiasm, with its power of bringing back to -life the dead past, to the melancholy which disparages and kills! One -sole interest animates her. Her instinct is creative, for where the poet -sees death she perceives life. The roses he thought faded and scattered, -she admires in full bloom; she can still breathe their perfume. From the -dust and ashes he has tasted and bewailed, she draws the savour of -honey. In this instance, surely, her love does not merely aspire to sit -on the heights with the poet's genius, as she claimed--it soars far -beyond it. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE SHACKLES OF LOVE - - -Victor Hugo never succeeded in making Juliette adopt his conception of -love. He craved something calm, placid, regular as a time-table in its -manifestations; but she was wont to object: "Such a love would soon -cease to exist. A fire that no longer blazes is quickly smothered in -ashes. Only a love that scorches and dazzles is worthy of the name. Mine -is like that." - -And indeed it would not be easy to name an object that this woman did -not cast into the crucible of her passion between the years 1834 and -1851. Everything was sacrificed--comfort, vanity, renown, talent, -liberty. Then she turned to her poet. She adopted his tastes, his -ambitions, his dreams for the future; she shared his joys and sorrows; -she exaggerated his qualities, and sometimes even his faults. She lived -only in him and for him. - -We are about to witness a completeness of self-abnegation that raises -Juliette Drouet almost to the level of the mystics of old; afterwards we -shall scrutinise one by one the details of the cult she rendered to -Victor Hugo. - - -I - -After selling the bulk of her furniture and quitting the luxurious -apartment she occupied at 35, Rue de l'Echiquier, Juliette, it will be -remembered, had settled down in a tiny lodging costing 400 frs. a year, -at 4, Rue de Paradis au Marais. She and Victor Hugo determined to live -there together, poor in purse, but rich in love and poetry.[24] The said -love and poetry must indeed have filled their horizon, for they have -left no account whatsoever of that first nesting-place. - -On March 8th, 1836, Juliette removed again to a somewhat more commodious -apartment: 14, Rue St. Anastase, at 800 frs. a year. It comprised a -drawing-room, dining-room, one bedroom, a kitchen, and an attic in which -her servant slept. This district has fallen into decay, and is now dull -and dreary. In those days it was chiefly occupied by the convent of the -Hospitaliers St. Anastase, whence the street took its name, and a few -houses more or less enclosed by gardens. The convent and gardens endowed -it with a provincial tranquillity and an impenetrable silence which -occasionally weighed upon Juliette's spirits. - -Her mode of life was not calculated to enliven her. A degree of poverty -bordering on squalor simplified its details. Little or no fire: Juliette -sometimes even lacks the logs she is by way of providing for herself. -Then she spends the morning in bed, reading, planning, day-dreaming. She -keeps careful accounts of her receipts and expenditure--accounts which -Victor Hugo afterwards audits most minutely. When she rises, the cold -does not prevent her from writing cheerfully, "If you seek warmth in -this room you will have to seek it at the bottom of my heart." - -All luxuries in the way of food were reserved, as in duty bound, for -the suppers the master honoured with his presence after the theatre. The -rest of the time Juliette ate frugally, breakfasting on eggs and milk, -dining on bread and cheese and an apple. When her daughter visited her -she treated her to an orange cut into slices and sprinkled with a -pennyworth of sugar and a pennyworth of brandy. The same simplicity -reigned on high-days and holidays. - -Juliette also denied herself useless fripperies and reduced to the -strictest limits the expenses of her wardrobe. Everything she was able -to make or mend, she made and mended, and it gratified her to compute -the money she saved thus in dressmakers. The rest she bought very -cheaply or did without. In the month of August 1838, when she was about -to start on a journey with Victor Hugo, she found herself in need of -shoes, a dress, and a country hat. She bought the shoes, manufactured -the dress, and had intended to borrow the hat from Madame Kraft; but -this lady, who held some minor post at the Comedie Francaise, only wore -feathered hats, so Juliette curses the extravagance that places her in -an awkward predicament. A little later, on May 7th, 1839, she wanted to -furbish up her mantle with ribbon velvet at 5_d._ a yard; but she found -that she could not do with less than eight yards and a half. She bemoans -her extravagance, saying, "Why, oh, why have I let myself in for this!" - -In studying Juliette's financial position one wonders that so much -privation should be necessary, for, from the very beginning, Victor Hugo -allowed her 600 or 700 frs. a month. He afterwards increased this sum to -800, and finally to 1,000 frs. in 1838, when he began to get better -terms from publishers and theatre-managers. Surely such a sum should -provide ordinary comforts--there should be no suggestion of squalid -poverty? - -The fact is that, in 1834, Victor Hugo had only paid off the most -pressing of Juliette's debts; but the result of his doing so was to -rouse the energies of the rest of the creditors, and Juliette was -overwhelmed by them. Sometimes she managed to pacify them by quaint -expedients. For instance, to Zoe, her former maid, she offered, in place -of wages, a box for _Angelo_; to Monsieur Maniere, her legal adviser, -she promised that, if he would extend her credit, "Monsieur Victor Hugo -should read with interest" a certain plan of political organisation of -which the said Maniere was the author, but which alas, does not yet -figure in the archives of the French constitution! But more often she -was forced to pay, and she had to save off food or dress. Then it was -that money was skimped from the butcher and grocer to satisfy the former -milliner or livery-stable keeper. In the month of May 1835, out of 700 -frs. received, the creditors obtained 316; in June they got another 347; -in July 278. Another cause for pecuniary embarrassment was the -irregularity of Pradier's contribution to the maintenance of his and -Juliette's child. Very often, but for Victor Hugo's assistance, this -item would have been added to the sum-total of her debts. But Juliette -bore everything with the blitheness of a bird. She, who had hated -accounts and arithmetic, now devoted her attention to them every day, -sometimes more than once a day; she, who loathed poverty, encountered -the most sordid privations with a smile; she, who once throve upon debts -and promises to pay, now exclaimed: "I would do anything rather than -fall into debt. How hideous and degrading such a thing is, and how -splendid and noble of you, my adored one, to love me in spite of my -past!"[25] - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO ABOUT 1836. - -From a picture by Louis Boulanger (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -In these circumstances, it is not surprising that she began to seek in -work, especially theatrical work, an addition to her private resources. -She took her career as an artist very seriously, and it was a great -disappointment to her that her lover failed to desire her as an -interpreter of his parts. He certainly did not. He allowed his jealousy -full play, and wished to keep Juliette for himself alone. His tactics -seem to have been to dangle promises ever before her, but to give her -nothing; to procure dramatic engagements for her, and prevent her from -fulfilling them. - -In February 1834 he introduced Juliette to the Comedie Francaise, but a -year later he declined to give her the smallest part in _Angelo_, which -was produced there. In the course of 1836, 1837, 1838, he allowed Marie -Dorval to monopolise all the important _roles_ in his former plays, and -never once attempted to put Juliette's name at the head, or even in the -middle, of the bill. Yet he gave her fine promises in plenty, encouraged -her to learn long passages from _Marion_ and _Dona Sol_, and vowed he -would some day write a play for her alone. - -Thus kept in the background, Juliette passed through exhausting -alternations of despair and confidence, gratitude and jealousy. For, as -may easily be imagined, she was terribly jealous, and her suspicious -mind exercised itself chiefly concerning actresses, whose lively manners -and easy morals she knew, by professional experience. There was Mlle. -Georges, already growing stout, no doubt, but ever ready to raise her -banner and exercise her accustomed sovereignty. There was Mlle. Mars, -who, though her looks were a thing of the past, still endeavoured to -attract attention. Above all, there was Marie Dorval. - -Ah, how Juliette envied Dorval! How she studied her in order to arm -herself against her fancied rivalry! How often she took her moral -measure! She knew that she was of the people, that she tingled with -vitality from head to foot, that, though her primary impulses were -virtuous, nature was yet strong within her.... She was well acquainted -with "the voice that quivered with tears and made its insinuating appeal -to the heart."[26] - -Could Juliette fail to dread such a woman, one so versed by the practice -of her profession in the wiles that attract men? Could she refrain from -warning her lover against her, day after day, like one draws attention -to a danger, a scourge, or a tempest? Far from it--she threatened to -return to the theatre, to act in her lover's plays, to be present at -every rehearsal, to vie with her rival in beauty and talent and ardour. -She learnt parts, and whole scenes, and filled her solitude with the -pleasing phantoms her lover had once created, and that she dreamed of -restoring to life on the stage. - -Months passed; delicate circumstances obliged her to relinquish her plan -of appearing at the Theatre Francais.[27] She was on the verge of -despair when, one evening in the spring of 1838, her lover brought her a -new play he wished to read to her, according to his invariable custom. -It was _Ruy Blas_. She at once claimed the part of Marie de Neubourg, -and fell in love with the melancholy little queen who was hampered and -hemmed in by the trammels of etiquette, as she herself was imprisoned -within the limits of her icy apartment in the Rue St. Anastase. Victor -Hugo asked for nothing better. He intended _Ruy Blas_ for the Theatre de -la Renaissance, which was under the management of his friend, Antenor -Joly. He requested the worthy fellow to engage Juliette, and the -agreement was signed early in May. - -We can picture the delight with which Juliette set about copying the -play; nevertheless, she was assailed by melancholy fears: "I shall never -play the queen," she wrote; "I am too unlucky. The thing I desire most -on earth is not destined to be realised." And it is a fact that the part -was taken from her almost as soon as it was given. - -After 1839 her longing to go back to the stage calmed down gradually. At -the end of that year it had completely faded. Her love's tranquillity -was greatly increased thereby, while she was driven to immerse herself -still more completely in her amorous solitude and the disadvantages -pertaining thereto. - -For, in the same degree that he deprecated her being seen on the stage, -Victor Hugo detested the thought of her going out alone, and he had -managed to extract a promise from her that she would never make one step -outside the house without him. She was, therefore, practically as much a -prisoner as any chatelaine of the Middle Ages, or heroine of some of the -sombre dramas she had formerly played. She had not even permission to go -and see her daughter at school at St. Mande, and, rather than trust her -by herself, the poet would escort her to the dressmaker and milliner, -or on her visits to the uncle whose name she bore, and who lay dying at -the Invalides, to the money-lender's, and curiosity-shop, and even the -ironmonger's! - -When Victor Hugo thus lent himself to her needs, all went well, and -Juliette, proud and happy, arm in arm with her "dear little man," -chattered away blithely. But a time came when the lover, monopolised by -other cares, perhaps by other intrigues, was no longer so assiduous. -Then the mistress protested and rebelled, with the fierce rage of a -prisoned beast of the forest, bruising itself against the bars of its -cage, in its agony for freedom. - -Victor Hugo met her remonstrances with gentle reasoning and persuasive -exhortations. However far Juliette went in her transports of anger, he -was always able to pacify her. On September 27th, 1836, at the end of a -long period during which the poet had not been able to give his friend -even what she called the "joies du preau"--that is to say, a walk round -the Boulevards--Juliette threatens to break out. For several weeks she -has been attributing the sickness and headaches she constantly suffers -from, to her sedentary life. Losing all patience, she addresses an -ultimatum to him, proposing an assignation in a cab on the Boulevard du -Temple. He does not appear. For three hours she waits inside the -vehicle, then, in the certainty that he has failed her, she writes a -letter in pencil, dated from the cab, No. 556, stating her intention to -fetch her daughter and go off somewhere, anywhere, alone with her. -"Thus," she writes, "I shall free myself for ever from a slavery which -satisfies neither my heart nor my mind, and does not secure the repose -of either of us." - -However, the next day she did not start. She did not go out at all. She -had resumed her chains and her prison garb. Her anger always evaporated -thus, and turned to melancholy and resigned gentleness. In the end she -came to feel that nothing existed for her, save a lover who sometimes -came and sometimes stayed away. If he was present, she was alive; if -absent, her mainspring was broken. - -But Victor Hugo continued to lead an ordinary life, while his mistress -spent her days in the confinement of a cloister. It was probably about -this time that Juliette resolved to set up in that cloister an altar for -the cult of her lover. Finding herself impotent to attract and keep him -by the sole charm of passion, she endeavoured to win him over by -devotion, minute attentions, tender interest in everything he undertook, -and by unbridled adoration of his person and work. - - -II - -According to Juliette, who secured several stolen meetings in the poet's -own house,[28] Victor Hugo suffered from a complete absence of the most -ordinary comfort at home. His lamps smoked, as did his chimney on the -rare occasions when a fire was lighted; he worked in a "horrible little -ice-house," with insufficient light and a half-empty inkstand; his bed -was wretched, the mattress stuffed with what he termed nail-heads; when -he dressed he found his shirts button-less and his coats unbrushed--as -for his shoes, Juliette was ashamed of their condition. We learn from -Theophile Gautier that the author of _Hernani_ was a hearty eater, but -that his meals were served up in confusion: cutlets with beans in oil, -beef and tomato sauce with an omelette, ham with coffee, vinegar, -mustard, and a piece of cheese. He made short work of this extraordinary -mixture, and no doubt was often reminded of a line his mistress had once -written to him on the subject: "When I think of what you are and what -you do, and of the discomfort in which you live, I am filled with -admiring pity." - -With the instinct of a loving woman and the resource of a clever one, -Juliette was quick to take advantage of the human side of her god, and -to supply him with the personal care he needed. She trained herself to -be a _cordon bleu_ and a sick nurse, a tailor and a cobbler. If Victor -Hugo went to the theatre he found on his return to the Rue St. Anastase, -a dainty repast of chicken, salad, and the milky puddings he liked, and -all the year round a dessert of grapes, a fruit he had always been fond -of. Juliette served him "kneeling"--so at least she affirms. She took -umbrage if he did not allow her to select for him the biggest asparagus -and the thickest cream. He was happy, so was she. If he had an attack of -that "cursed internal inflammation which sometimes affected his head and -sometimes his eyes," his mistress would prepare liniments, tisanes, herb -soups, which the romanticist meekly swallowed. She assumed a maternal -manner, kissed him, coaxed him with soft words, tried to feed him with -her own hands, and regretted that she could not give him her own health -and take his indisposition upon herself. If he complained of the paucity -and untidiness of his wardrobe, Juliette mended his socks and linen, -ironed his white waistcoats, removed grease-stains from his coat, made -him a smoking-jacket out of an old theatre-cloak, and manufactured "a -capital greatcoat lined with velvet, with collar and cuffs of the best -silk velvet, out of another." Thus she managed by degrees to collect -nearly all the poet's clothes in her own room; his ordinary suits, as -well as those he wore on great occasions, such as a reception at the -Academie, or a sitting of the House. On one occasion she writes, in -gentle self-mockery: "I was sorry, after you went, that I had not made -you put on your cashmere waistcoat to-night; it was mended and quite -ready for you. This morning I have been tidying all your things. Your -coat occupies the place of honour in my wardrobe; your waistcoat and tie -hang above my mantle, your little shoes and silk socks below. In default -of yourself I cling to your duds, look after them, and clean them with -delight." - -But Juliette's great achievement, her triumph, was to create in her tiny -apartment the right atmosphere for her poet to work in. His custom was -to collect his thoughts during the day, and work them out at night. -Juliette made him a cosy corner in her bedroom, close to her bed. She -fitted it up with a table, an arm-chair, a lamp, and an ink-pot. Above -the chair she hung portraits of his children, to make him feel at home. -On the table, sheets of paper and freshly cut pens attested the presence -and care of a devotee of genius. Whenever he came in the evening the -poet settled down in what he himself called his work-room. His -methodical habits and strong will enabled him to abstract himself from -his environment and devote himself strictly to his labours as an author. -Besides, he was under the impression that Juliette was fast asleep; but -in that he did her less than justice. Sleep while he worked! Juliette -could never have brought herself to do so. She watched him, and admired -him. Sometimes she seized a pencil to scribble on any scrap of paper the -expression of her veneration, and when the poet had finished he would -find little notes such as the following: "I love to watch even your -shadow on the page while you write."[29] - -That a poet should allow his person to be thus worshipped is nothing -new; that he should desire to be admired in his works is still more -natural. Juliette guessed this, and acquired the habit of applauding the -slightest achievement of the master with loving enthusiasm. Part of the -day she spent in copying his manuscripts, classifying them, making them -as like as possible to printers' proofs; and it may easily be imagined -that she occupied much time reading them over and over again. Everything -he wrote was equally sublime in her eyes. If she permitted herself to -show preference for this or that work, it was only on condition that she -should not be supposed to be depreciating some other. In 1846, Victor -Hugo having arranged to make a speech in the House on the "consolidation -and defence of the frontier," Juliette read it no less than three times: -once in _La Presse_, again in _Le Messager_, and a third time in _La -Presse_ again. She made extracts from it and put it away among his -archives; she then wrote gravely to the author, that he had never been -more pathetic or more eloquent. In the same manner she hoarded all his -most trivial sketches and poorest caricatures, and pasted them into -albums which she carefully hid. She was envious of Leopoldine, the -poet's daughter, who was doing the same thing, and naturally had more -opportunities than herself of adding to the collection. - -She was more greedy still of his theatrical output, for there her -jealousy came into play. It is safe to affirm that for more than fifteen -years, namely from 1834 to 1851, she interested herself in every single -representation of the dramas of Victor Hugo. She was present at the -Theatre Francais on the first night of _Angelo_ on April 28th, 1835, and -wished to go again on all the following nights, in spite of the bitter -disappointment the play had caused her, through the frustration of her -ambition to take part in it. She was there on February 20th, 1838, for -the revival of _Hernani_; and on March 8th following, it was she who -applauded Marie Dorval loudest, at the revival of _Marion Delorme_. -While _Les Burgraves_ was being written she demanded to know all about -it from its earliest conception, and achieved her wish. When Victor Hugo -read the play to her, she was very much moved and said: "I hardly know -how to descend to earth again from the sublime altitude of your -conception." She took part in the distribution of the _roles_, and -intrigued against Mlle. Maxime and Madame FitzJames, whom she did not -want for Guanhumara.[30] She championed Madame Melingue, who, in -consequence, obtained the part. At last the first night arrived. There -was a cabal, a violent, aggressive cabal, a sign of the reaction of the -new practical school against the romantic school. Who sat in a -prominent box and opposed the firmest front to the hissing crowd? -Juliette! Who ventured to accuse Beauvallet of murdering the part of the -Duke Job? Juliette again! "To applaud thus your beautiful verses," she -wrote on March 13th, "and hurl myself into the fray in their defence is -only another way of making love. Ah, I wish I could be a man on the -nights the play is given![31] I promise you the subscribers of the -_Nationale_ and the _Constitutionel_ would see strange things!" - -The afternoons hung heavy in the lonely apartment of the Rue St. -Anastase. Sometimes the poet looked in for a moment to bathe his eyes, -or claim some other domestic attention; but, as a rule, his visits were -made in the evening, after the parties and the theatre. His mistress, -therefore, begged, and obtained, permission to receive a few of her -friends. They were insignificant, but warm-hearted folk: Madame Lanvin, -the wife of one of Pradier's employes, who acted as intermediary, partly -honorary and partly paid, between the sculptor and the mother of Claire -Pradier; Madame Kraft, an employee of the Comedie Francaise who affected -literary culture; Madame Pierceau, a worthy matron, and, lastly, Madame -Bezancenot, a tried ally. - -As a rule, Victor Hugo tolerated the presence of this little company; -but, democratic though he might be in principle, it palled upon him -before long, and he made some remonstrance. Then Juliette revealed to -him that her need to talk about him had driven her to institute a -regular course of "Hugolatry" among the good ladies. They made a -practice of reading his poems, declaiming his plays, and showering -praise on the independence of his character and the dignity of his life. -In the face of such delicate proofs of the affection she bore him, it is -not surprising that the poet should have entrusted to Juliette his most -sacred hopes and ambitions. She was one of those in whom a lover may -always confide, in the certainty of being ever sustained, encouraged, -and approved. Thus it came about that she was cognisant of every effort -Victor Hugo made, every step he took, and even of the intrigues by which -he climbed gradually to the Academie Francaise, then to the Tuileries -and the little court of Neuilly, and finally to the Chambre des Pairs. - - -III - -Not that Juliette herself ever cherished special veneration for kings, -princes, peers, or Academicians. Democratic and republican by the -accident of birth, as she herself wrote, she likewise detested, on -principle, everything that seemed likely to attract or keep Victor Hugo -away from the Rue St. Anastase. Her first inclination, therefore, was to -criticise with acerbity Academies, drawing-rooms, politics, and Courts; -but the poet's determination was not of the quality that is easily -weakened by remonstrances. Juliette knew this. As soon as she realised -that the _habit vert_ was really the object of her idol's desire, and -that he had set his whole heart upon obtaining it, she abandoned her -opposition and only indulged in gentle mockery calculated to cover the -retreat of the unsuccessful candidate, and deprive it as much as -possible of bitterness. - -For Victor Hugo was, above all, an unfortunate candidate, at any rate -of the Academie. In February 1836 he was refused Laine's _fauteuil_, and -it was given to a vaudevilliste of the period, called Dupaty. At the end -of November of the same year, Mignet was preferred before him, for -Raynouard's vacancy. In December 1839, rather than select Hugo, nobody -was appointed in the place of Michaud. In February 1840, precedence over -him was given to the permanent secretary of the Academie des Sciences, -Monsieur Flourens. It was not until January 7th, 1841, that he was -elected to Lemercier's _fauteuil_ by seventeen votes, against fifteen -given to a dramatist called Ancelot, whose name an ungrateful posterity -no longer remembers. - -In all the peregrinations required by these five successive -candidatures, Victor Hugo was invariably accompanied by Juliette. On -December 24th, 1835, she writes to him: "One point on which I will -tolerate no nonsense, is your visits. I insist upon accompanying you, so -that I may know how much time you spend with the wives and daughters of -the Academicians. I shall, by the same means, be able to gather up a few -crumbs of your society for myself, which is no small consideration." - -The visits were begun between Christmas and the New Year, in cold, dry, -sunny weather. Clad in black according to prescribed custom, Victor Hugo -fetched his friend every day from the Rue St. Anastase, got into a cab -with her, and showed her the plan for the afternoon: at such and such a -time they must lay siege to Monsieur de Lacretelle; after that, to -Monsieur Royer-Collard; then to Monsieur Campenon. Monsieur de -Lacretelle was too diplomatic not to give plenty of promises and -assurances; Monsieur Royer-Collard too good a Jansenist to fail in a -blunt refusal to the author of _Hernani_. As for Monsieur Campenon, he -had the reputation of being an honest man and an excellent amateur -gardener. His conversation bristled with graftings and buddings. How -should he humour him about his favourite pursuit, Victor Hugo asked his -friend. Should he select roses or pears, myrtle or cypress? As the good -creature was getting on in years, and counted more summers than literary -successes, Victor Hugo unkindly inclined towards the last. - -Juliette laughed merrily, and the poet would climb up numerous stairs, -and return with a stock of entertaining anecdotes, which filled the cab -with fun and colour and life. Then followed calculations of his chances; -if they seemed promising, Juliette congratulated her "immortal," as she -called him in anticipation; if not, she made fun of the Academie once -more. - -At the end of the year the whole performance began over again. As in -1835, Juliette pretended not to attach much importance to the election -of her lover, but this did not prevent her from hotly abusing the -Academie when, a month later, the society again closed its portals to -the leader of the romantic school. - -It is the privilege of the Academie Francaise to be most courted by -those who have oftenest sneered at it. No institution has ever been the -cause of so much recantation. Juliette herself was to eat her words. On -Thursday, January 7th, 1841, when Victor Hugo had at last triumphed over -his brother candidate, it was no longer a mistress who wrote to him, but -a general addressing a panegyric of victory to a hero: "With your -seventeen friendly votes, and in spite of the fifteen groans of your -adversaries, you are an Academician! What happiness! You ought to bring -your beautiful face to me to be kissed." - -Victor Hugo yielded to her gallant desire, as may be imagined, and -forthwith began to prepare for his reception. The poet aimed at a -magniloquent and comprehensive speech which should embrace all the great -names and ideas of the past, present, and future; something as vast as -the empire of Charlemagne, and as noble as the genius of Napoleon. -Juliette, on her side, dreamed of a dress of white tarlatan mounted in -broad pleats and decorated with a rose-coloured scarf, like the one she -had once admired on the shoulders of Madame Volnys, a hated rival at the -Comedie Francaise. - -Although the speech was only to be delivered in June, Victor Hugo had it -ready by April 10th; he read it to his admiring friend the same night. -The white tarlatan dress, alas, was longer on the way. Several reasons -conspired against its completion. First of all, Juliette declared that -she would concede to nobody the honour of presenting the new member with -his lace ruffles: this involved an expenditure of about 23 frs., a heavy -toll on the exchequer of the lovers. Secondly, Victor Hugo's reception -was to fall upon nearly the same date as the first communion of -Juliette's daughter, Claire Pradier, which was yet another cause of -expense. The young woman bravely sacrificed her frock, and, having -consoled herself by making a fair copy of the master's splendid speech, -she awaited the great day. But at the very moment she hoped to see it -dawn without further disappointment, malicious fate brought her, and -consequently Victor Hugo and the Academie, face to face with a fresh -dilemma of the gravest importance, namely, the question of the pulpit -for the momentous occasion. - -The time-honoured affair was a wooden erection of mean appearance, -stained to represent mahogany. On ordinary days it was contemned and -relegated to the lumber-room of the Bibliotheque de l'Institut; but, on -the occasion of the reception of a new member, custom prescribed that it -should be placed under the cupola, in front of the agitated neophyte. -Etiquette demanded that the latter should place upon it his gloves and -the notes of his address; but the rickety thing had already borne so -much eloquence in the past, that it tottered under the weight of its -responsibilities. It stood weakly upon a crooked pedestal, in imminent -danger of subsidence. Instead of being a haughty pulpit, equal to any -occasion, it seemed to offer humble apology for its absurd existence. - -Such was the farcical object Victor Hugo had to interpose between -himself and Juliette, on the day of the great ceremonial. She lost her -sleep over it; for a time, even the lace ruffles, and the speech, and -the white tarlatan dress and rose-coloured scarf, retired into the -background: "I am in a state of inexpressible agitation and worry over -this wretched pulpit," she wrote. "I shall be just at the back of it. I -am in perfect despair! Truly, since this apprehension has taken -possession of me, I have become the most wretched of women. I think if I -cannot see your handsome, radiant face that day, nothing will keep me -from bursting into sobs of rage and misery. The very thought fills my -eyes with tears."[32] - -In spite of himself, Victor Hugo shared one characteristic with Jean -Racine: he could not bear to see a pretty woman cry. He therefore took -decisive measures, and managed to assuage his friend's grief. Juliette -was assured that, whatever happened, she should contemplate her "dear -little orator" at her ease--that is to say, from head to foot. -Unfortunately, it was ordained that calmness should not inhabit this -passionate soul for long together. The night preceding the reception, -Juliette felt frightfully nervous, and, while Victor Hugo sat up -correcting the proofs of his discourse at the Imprimerie Royale, she -retired, saying irritably: "I am like the savages who take to their beds -when their wives give birth to children." At 4.30 a.m. she was already -up, wrote several letters to her lover, dressed, and hurried to the -Palais Nazarin, where she took up a position in the front row, before -even the platoon of infantry detailed for guard had arrived. - -According to the testimony of Victor Hugo's enemies as well as of his -friends, the reception surpassed in dignity and brilliancy anything the -cupola had previously witnessed. The Court was represented by the Duc -and Duchesse d'Orleans, the Duchesse de Nemours, and the Princesse -Clementine, in a tribune. Fashionable society and the world of letters -jostled each other on the benches. There were women everywhere, even -beside the most ancient and prim of Academicians. Old Monsieur Jay was -partially concealed under billows of laces, gauzes, silks, and satins, -worn by his neighbours, Madame Louise Colet and Mlle. Doze. Monsieur -Etienne waggled his head between two monstrous hats so beflowered that, -with one movement, he disturbed the _fleurs du Perou_ of Madame Thiers, -and with the next, he ruffled the bunches of roses on Madame Anais -Segalas' head. - -[Illustration: "LE CITOYEN VICTOR HUGO JOUANT AU CONGRES DE LA PAIX." - -Political caricature, 1849.] - -Juliette saw nothing of all this; neither did she heed the irrelevant -babble of her neighbour on the right, Monsieur Desmousseaux of the -Comedie Francaise, or of her guest on the left, Madame Pierceau. She was -in a state of painful, yet delicious turmoil, and when Victor Hugo made -his entry, she nearly fainted. Fortunately, the poet gave her a smiling -look before beginning his speech, which restored her to life; and she -settled down to listen to his eloquent words, as if she had not already -written them out until she knew them by heart. To-day they seemed -invested with fresh beauties, and she gave herself up to the enjoyment -of the moment. The magnificent imagery which decked Victor Hugo's first -address at the Academie, concealed calculation of the most worldly wise -description. Victor Hugo aspired to the Chambre des Pairs as a -stepping-stone to a power which would assist him to develop the moral -and social mission he deemed to be the true function of a poet. To -achieve this aim it was necessary that he should first belong to one of -the societies from among which alone the King could legally select the -members of that Assembly. The Academie was one of these, hence the -successive candidatures of the poet, and the special tone of his -discourse, in which all the political parties were blandished and -caressed alike; hence, finally, the visits to Court, which increased in -frequency after 1841. - -Just as Juliette had practically burned in effigy almost all the -Academicians of her time before she had the opportunity of becoming -acquainted with them and finding them charming, so she began by -criticising and censuring Louis Philippe and his children with the -greatest severity. Were not these people going to wrest her poet from -her? And for what? For the sake of empty honours and useless -occupations! Therefore we find Juliette preaching to her lover the -contempt of earthly greatness. She was fiercely jealous of the -citizen-king. - -In order to calm her apprehensions, Victor Hugo had only to reveal to -her his secret plans; from the first moment that he mentioned the Pairie -to her, she became complacent and Orleaniste. Whether the poet went to -harangue the widow of the soldier-prince in the name of the Academie, -after the accident of 1842, or whether he paid her a private visit, -Juliette always insisted upon accompanying him to Neuilly, and there she -would wait, sitting in a cab outside, whilst her lover coined honeyed -phrases inside the palace. - -The Duchesse was German, simple, a good mother, and deeply religious. Of -Victor Hugo's works, the only one she was familiar with was No. XXXIII. -of the _Chants du Crepuscule, Dans L'Eglise de...._ - - "C'etait une humble eglise au cintre surbaisse, - L'eglise ou nous entrames, - Ou depuis trois cents ans avaient deja passe, - Et pleure des ames." - -The good lady probably thought these verses had been composed in a -moment of deep fervour, in honour of a respected spouse. She -congratulated the poet, quoted some of the lines to him, questioned him -minutely about his children--and, while he enlarged on these domestic -topics, the real heroine of the beautiful poetry so dear to the -Duchesse, sat waiting below in the cab ... dreaming of the future peer -of France; she already saw him in imagination descending the great -staircase of the Luxembourg, with a demeanour full of dignity. For her -part, she was more than ever content to remain at the foot of the steps, -in a posture of humility, among the crowd of watchers.... When the poet -issued at last from the ducal apartments, she would tell him her dream, -and he would complacently acquiesce. - -The appointment of Victor Hugo to the Pairie appeared in the _Moniteur_ -of April 15th, 1845. It must be left to politicians to determine in what -degree the presence of "Olympio" could profit the councils of the -nation; but to Juliette's biographer the entry of her lover into the -Luxembourg seems a felicitous event. From that moment, in fact, the -young woman ceased to be cloistered. Busier than ever, and perhaps less -jealous, the poet permitted his mistress to accompany him to the -Luxembourg and to return alone to the Marais. At first Juliette hardly -knew how to take this unfamiliar freedom. With her lover absent, she had -grown accustomed to semi-obscurity. The blatant sunshine seemed to mock -her loneliness. She writes: "Nobody can feel sadder than I do, when I -trudge through the streets alone. I have not done such a thing for -twelve years, and I ask myself what it may portend. Is it a mark of your -confidence or of your indifference? Perhaps both. In any case, I am far -from content." - -Gradually, however, she fell into the new ways. She used to walk back -from the Luxembourg by way of the Pont-Neuf and the Quais. She amused -herself by trying to trace the footsteps of Victor Hugo and fit her own -little shoes into them. When she reached home, she immersed herself -deeper than ever in the preoccupations of her lover. - -Occasionally, fortunately, she had a reaction. She read little: the -letters of Madame de Sevigne, perhaps, or those of Mlle. de Lespinasse. -She tended her flowers; for Victor Hugo had made her remove from No. 14 -to No. 12 Rue St. Anastase, where her ground-floor rooms opened on to a -garden.[33] There, in a space of sixty square feet, she had four bushes -of crimson roses, and a few dozen prolific strawberry-plants, destined -to furnish the poet's favourite dessert, throughout the summer. She -attended to all the most trivial details in person, making them all -subservient to her love. - -In this wise--with the exception of a few bouts of jealousy of which we -shall have occasion to speak later, Juliette's days flowed almost -happily. She no longer brooded over her past; redemption through love -seemed to her an accomplished fact. When she turned to the future, it -was with ideas borrowed from Victor Hugo certainly, but none the less -consoling, since they authorised her to hope for the eternal reunion of -souls beyond the confines of this earth. On December 31st, 1842, the -poet had dedicated some delicate verses to her, which she learned by -heart. They were part of a creed by which Juliette hoped to fortify her -soul against the arrows of fortune--hopes fallacious in the event. First -death, then treachery, were about to rend her faithful heart as a -child's toy is smashed. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -CLAIRE PRADIER - - -About the year 1844, when Victor Hugo visited his friend on Sundays and -holidays, he used to find seated at his private table, in accordance -with his own permission, a tall girl of eighteen, very fair, very pale, -with very black eyes--two prunes, as he said, dropped in a saucer of -milk. Often she did not hear him enter. Bending her willowy neck and -undeveloped bust over her books, she was immersed in study, perhaps also -in reverie. Sometimes he kissed her affectionately, at other times bowed -formally. The lowly assistant-mistress of a suburban school, marvelling -at the great man's condescension, would rise blushing, and submit her -pale brow to his lips. She would then ask permission to return to her -task: the examinations were near at hand, and, as she was going in for a -diploma, she must work. - -Sometimes Victor Hugo smilingly took up the books scattered on the -table, weighed the value of each with a glance, then, pushing them all -aside with the back of his hand, sat down, saying: "Now then, Claire, I -will be your tutor to-day," and the lesson began, vivid, enthusiastic, -brilliant as a poem. - -The reader would be justly disappointed if we failed to relate the story -of the girl to whom this "magician of words" thus unveiled the beauties -of the French language. Besides, a deeper acquaintance with the -daughter may lead to a better understanding of the mother; therefore, we -append a short sketch of Claire Pradier. - - -I - -She was born in Paris in 1826. Her father, the sculptor, undertook the -care of her early childhood, while her mother, as we have learnt, was in -Germany and Belgium. He put her out to nurse at Vert, near Mantes, with -a married couple named Dupuis, and sometimes combined a visit to her -with a little sport, in the shooting season. - -He brought her back to Paris on October 15th, 1828. From letters of his -which have been preserved, we are justified in believing that he derived -some satisfaction from his educational role. His pen is prolific in -praise of the child with "the locks of pale gold," "the roguish brown -eyes," "the apple-red cheeks," whose "nose ends in a pretty tilt" which -reminds him agreeably of Juliette's. - -He discovers in his daughter a fine nature, plenty of intelligence, and -so much feeling, that he hesitates for a time whether he shall apply his -efforts to checking its development, or to cultivating it--in the first -case, he would turn Claire into a semi-idiot in order not to let her -passions become too strong for her happiness, and in the second, he -might make of her an artist capable of the most splendid impulses and -the noblest fulfilment. - -If Pradier is to be believed, the child herself decided in favour of the -latter. At the age of three, guided by paternal suggestion in the studio -of the Rue de l'Abbaye, she chose for her favourite plaything a stuffed -swan. From her games with this handsomely fashioned bird she imbibed a -taste for pure lines and fine pose. She also listened to music given at -Pradier's house by sculptors and painters who aped the art of Ingres. -She derived so much delight from it that she could never afterwards meet -any of these self-engrossed performers without begging for a kiss. -Finally, by his studies of dress, his clever manipulation of draperies, -which he always preferred to the higher parts of his profession, Pradier -taught her to appreciate light and colour. She had a vivid appreciation -of the latter, and, during her short life, a mere trifle such as the -blue of the sky, or the tint of a rose, gave her the most exquisite -pleasure. - -Having thus cultivated the sensibilities of the flower committed to his -charge, Pradier was rewarded by the prestige attached to his role of -master and guide; the father reaped in tenderness what the artist had -expended in intelligence and effort. From her earliest infancy Claire -showed a marked preference for this man, so ardent, so gay, who taught -her to breathe and live among works of art; all her life she felt for -him an affection that neither his mistakes nor his carelessness, or even -his injustice, could damp. Meanwhile, ever prolific in good intentions, -always ready with vows and promises, the artist was forming high hopes -and ambitions for his daughter. - -"We must hope," he wrote to Juliette on that October 15th, 1828, when he -took the child away from her nurse, "that she will live to grow up, and -that we shall make a distinguished personage of her." A little later, on -September 28th, 1829, he writes: "Dear friend, you are fortunate in the -possession of a Claire who will be a great solace to you in your old -age." Again, on July 4th, 1832: "Who can love her better than I do, -especially now that I see her rare intelligence developing so -satisfactorily and encouragingly for our designs?" - -He planned for his little daughter the most singular and unexpected -gifts: once it was to be the proceeds of his bust of Chancellor -Pasquier, a commission he owed to Juliette and her friendship with the -subject; another time it was the price of a house he possessed at Ville -d'Avray and wished to sell; again, he designed to settle upon Claire the -sum of 2,000 frs. he had lent to a cousin--fine words, as empty as the -hollow mouldings that decorated the studio of the man. The cousin never -returned the loan, the house at Ville d'Avray was sold, by order of the -court, at a moment when the mortgage upon it far surpassed its value, -and the bust of Chancellor Pasquier, though ordered, was never even -rough-cast by Pradier. - -Juliette had determined to live with Victor Hugo in the conditions of -poverty indicated in a former chapter. Her natural delicacy prompted her -to make the future of her child secure, and at the same time to release -the poet from all anxiety on that score. In the latter part of the year -1833, therefore, she wrote to Pradier asking him to acknowledge Claire. -The answer of the sculptor was as follows: - -"DEAR FRIEND, - - "Your letter did not displease me at all, as you seem to have - feared that it would. Its motive was too praiseworthy to cause me - any sentiment contrary to your own. The only thing that vexes me is - that I should be unable to do at once what you desire, and what I - fully intend to do eventually, though in a manner carefully - calculated not to interfere with the future or tranquillity of any - other person. It grieves me that you do not realise what I feel - towards you and Claire! I believed that all your hopes were centred - in me! I am so crushed with debt that I cannot think of executing - my intentions at present. Good-bye, get well and hope only in me. - You have not lost me, either of you--far from it! Good-bye, your - very devoted friend, and much more, - -"J. PRADIER."[34] - -[Illustration: CLAIRE PRADIER AT FIFTEEN. - -From an unpublished drawing by Pradier.] - -It is easy to guess how annoyed Juliette was at the receipt of such a -letter. She expressed her disgust to Victor Hugo in various notes in -which she abuses her former lover: "Wretched driveller, stupid -scoundrel, the vilest and most idiotic of men, a coward without -faith"--such are the principal epithets she applies to him. - -It has been said that the author of _Lucrece Borgia_ interfered and -obtained from Pradier the acknowledgment of Claire.[35] This is -absolutely incorrect. It is probable indeed that the poet made the -attempt; it seems certain that with the assistance of Maniere, the -attorney, he extracted from the sculptor the promise of an allowance; -but there was no official recognition, and soon we shall find the father -of Claire more disposed to repudiate her than to allow her the -protection of his name. - -For the moment he merely agreed that Juliette should put the child to -school at Saumur with a Madame Watteville, whose Paris representative -was a certain Monsieur de Barthes. He would have liked Victor Hugo and -his friend to undertake the sole responsibility of the arrangements, but -they prudently declined to do so, though they lavished kindness, -caressing letters, advice, and treats, upon the little exile. - -On May 28th, 1835, Claire, having suffered some childish ailment, -received from her mother a doll and the following letter: - - "Good morning, my dear little Claire. I hope you will be quite well - again by the time you read this letter. Now that you are - convalescent I can discuss serious matters with you. This is what I - wish to say: Foreseeing that you may be in need of recreation, I - send you from Paris a charming little companion who is most amiably - disposed to amuse you. But, as it would not be fair that the - expenses of her maintenance should devolve upon you during the time - of her stay with you, I also send you a big purse of money for her - upkeep. Spend it wisely, in accordance with your needs. - - "Monsieur Toto is no less anxious about her, than devoted to you. - He therefore adds an enormous basket of provisions. I hope the - little girl will not have eaten them all up on the way, and that - there will still be something left for you. - - "This is not all. I have also been thinking of your clothes, dear - little one, and I send you a shawl for your walks, a white frock - with drawers to match, a figured foulard frock, a striped frock - without drawers, and a sleeved pinafore. - - "Good-bye, dear good child. You must tell me if my selection is to - your taste. Love me and enjoy yourself, so that I may find you - tall and plump and pretty, when I come to see you again. - -"J. DROUET." - -At other times, Victor Hugo himself wrote affectionately to his friend's -child. It is necessary to read these letters, so full of thoughtful -tenderness, to gain a better knowledge of the warmth of the poet's -heart. Much should be forgiven him in consideration of it. - -"We love you very much," he wrote to Claire on May 23rd, 1833, "and you -have a sweet mother who, though absent, thinks a great deal about you. -You must get well quickly, and thank the good God in your prayers every -night for giving you such a good little mother, as she on her part -thanks Him for her charming little daughter."[36] - -And a few days after, in a postscript to a letter to Juliette: "Monsieur -Toto sends love and kisses to his little friend, and wishes he could -still have her to travel everywhere with him. But, above all, he would -like to caress her and look after her as his own child."[37] - -_As his own child_--those words were indeed characteristic of Victor -Hugo's feeling concerning the little girl thus thrown across his path by -chance, and unhesitatingly adopted by him. At first, Claire either did -not realise, or was unwilling to return, his affection. She was jealous -of the big gentleman who stole some of her mother's attention from her. -She was reserved and disagreeable. Juliette was indignant, but the poet -did not relax his efforts to win her. With the authority of Pradier, who -was only too pleased to delegate it to him,[38] he placed Claire, on -April 15th, 1836, in a school at St. Mande, 35, Avenue du Bel-Air, kept -by a Madame Marre. From that moment, whether he paid her a surprise -visit in the parlour on Thursday afternoons, with a Juliette beaming -from the enjoyment of the trip, or whether she spent Sundays with her -mother, Claire Pradier insensibly grew to connect Victor Hugo with -Juliette in her affections, to give to them both equal respect, and to -link them together in her prayers. Exceedingly sensitive by nature, more -eager for love than for learning, she fell into habits of day-dreaming -in school, or out in the meadows, and only seemed to recover the -brightness of cheeks and eyes when the lovers fetched her, and toasted -her little cold, contracted fingers in their warm ones. Then the -apartment in the Rue St. Anastase resounded with her merry chatter, and -she joined eagerly in the rites of which Victor Hugo was the god and -Juliette the priestess. - -In 1840, when she had attained her fifteenth year, Claire's mother -thought it right to confide to her the secret of her irregular birth. -She told her also of Pradier's neglect, and Victor Hugo's goodness. She -exhorted her to be simple in her ideas, and not to set her ambitions too -high. Claire manifested much chagrin and vexation at first, but -presently her natural piety awoke and Juliette was able to write: -"Claire is for ever in church." Victor Hugo took upon himself to open -the girl's eyes to the practical side of life, and to point out to her -the necessity of preparing for a profession as early as possible.[39] In -response to these appeals to her reason, Claire soon accepted her lot -with a brave heart. It was settled that at the age of eighteen, that is -to say in 1844, she should be engaged as an assistant mistress in Madame -Marre's school, in exchange for board and lodging, but without salary. -She agreed also to study for a diploma, and she hoped, when once she had -gained it, to find some honourable and paid employment, by Victor Hugo's -help. - -Claire fell to work with an ardour, a good-humour, and an intelligence, -that drew from Juliette the warmest commendation for her daughter and -gratitude for Victor Hugo. - - -II - -One cannot but wonder whether Claire Pradier was really happy at heart, -or whether that eighteen-year-old brow, pure and fair as Juliette's own, -perchance concealed a spirit weighed down by melancholy. She was -good-looking certainly, and knew it. In her chestnut locks, her eyes, -whose hue wavered between soft black and the blue of ocean, her rounded -cheeks, often hectic with fever, the distinction of a tall figure and -stately walk, she united-- - - "A la madonne auguste d'Italie - La flamande qui rit a travers les houblons."[40] - -But beauty is no consolation to one who feels herself already touched by -the icy finger of death, and who has, besides, no incentive to prolong -the struggle for life. Claire felt thus. - -Already, in earliest childhood, she had shown a delicate temperament, -uncertain health, more nerves than muscle, more sensitiveness than -vitality. During the whole of 1837, her cough never left her. In the -years that followed, her figure scarcely showed any of the curves of -youth. When her looks were praised, she smiled faintly, and her voice, -which was lovely and caressing enough to recall to Victor Hugo the -softest cadences of _Les Feuillantines_, scarce dared pronounce the word -"to-morrow." Hence proceeded low spirits, which she was never able to -shake off, though she usually managed to conceal them from her mother. -Presentiments also beset her. "I often dream of those I love," she wrote -to her mother, "and when I wake up, I long to sleep on for ever." - -Mobile as the chisel he manipulated so skilfully, volatile as the dust -of the plaster which powdered him, Pradier gave Claire neither regular -assistance nor moral support. He had married, and was the father of -several legitimate children. Unfortunate as was the celebrity of his -wife and far-reaching the scandals provoked by her, he yet desired to -preserve before his natural daughter a primly respectable attitude, and -a modesty quite Calvinistic. He was as careful to avoid the occasions of -meeting her, as Claire herself was eager to provoke them. The more she -overwhelmed him with little presents, worked by her own fingers, tender -evidences of an unconquerable affection, the more indifferent and -discourteous he showed himself, forgetting to pay her monthly -allowance, forgetting to give her New Year's presents, forgetting even -to keep his appointments with her, leaving her to wait patiently in the -cold studio of Rue de l'Abbaye while he played the gallant on the -boulevard. - -He had, nevertheless, permitted the girl to make the acquaintance of his -legitimate children, and had gone so far as to put his youngest child, -Charlotte Pradier, at the same school, when he sent his two sons to -Auteuil to a boarding-school. In the month of May, 1845, Claire, with an -impulse natural in a girl of nineteen, wished to give the two -school-boys the pleasure of a sisterly letter; she got Charlotte to -write also. The sculptor heard of it and this is how he treated her -trivial indiscretion: - - "MY DEAR BIG CLAIRE, - - "I have seen the headmaster of ... who has informed me that you and - Charlotte have written to J....[41] Pray write as seldom as - possible. I do not think young girls should use their pens to - reveal their sentiments. Such a habit is too easily acquired; they - should know how, yet not do it. Besides, the children see each - other every fortnight, and that is enough. Please do not sign - yourself _Pradier_ to them any more. Such a thing becomes known and - might cause gossip. You do not need the name, to be loved and - respected. Be frank and fear nothing. Your good time will come some - day. You must be prudent in all respects. The children must - accustom themselves to your position as it is; they will take more - interest in you later. Also, as I am on these subjects, pray use - some other formulae in your letters to me than 'adored father,' or - 'beloved.' I am not accustomed to them. Such epithets are only - appropriate to a god. Call me anything else that comes natural to - you. It is unnecessary that I should prompt you; your feelings will - be your best guide. Please write more legibly, for I receive your - letters at night; and, above all, write only when you have - something special to say. You must not become a scribbler about - nothing--I mean for the mere pleasure of using your pen."[42] - -How such a letter must have wounded the heart which once beat so -tenderly for Pradier! Neither the caresses of Juliette nor the soothing -words of Victor Hugo were able to comfort Claire.[43] One month after -her father had thus disowned her, she went up for her examination, and, -partly through grief, partly through timidity, failed utterly. It was -the last stroke. - -Not that her constitution showed any immediate sign of the shock it had -sustained, or broke down at once. Her physical appearance remained -unchanged, but death entered her soul and lurked there henceforward, as -sometimes it lies under the depths of waters which flow calmly to -outward seeming. She made her will. - -From that moment Claire Pradier lived like those resigned invalids who, -raising their gaze to the heaven above them, no longer heed the passing -of the hours, while they await the supreme summons. She waited. Her -mother, seeing her still apparently healthy, failed to realise her -condition, and took the beginning of this mute colloquy with death -for a mere return of her daughter's former depression. Nevertheless, -an incident which happened in the month of February 1846 gave to -Juliette also one of those presentiments which cannot deceive. Like -Claire, she waited. - -[Illustration: CLAIRE PRADIER ON HER DEATHBED. - -Drawing by Pradier (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -It was not for long. On March 21st, 1846, having gone to St. Mande to -see the young assistant mistress, she took with her the design and -material for a piece of work Victor Hugo had asked for. The idea was to -embroider his family coat of arms on coarse canvas, in colours selected -by himself. This complicated heraldic work was to adorn the backs of two -Gothic arm-chairs in his rooms in the Place Royale. - -Contrary to her usual habit, Claire showed very little interest in the -poet's plans; she listened absently and spoke very little. A dry cough -shook her frame from time to time, her cheeks burned with fever. -Juliette walked home by way of the Avenue de Bel-Air, the Barriere du -Trone, and the Faubourg St. Antoine. Victor Hugo, who was always anxious -about her, was to meet her half-way. He did so; she was walking slowly, -with bent head, and when he asked for news of his embroidery, she burst -into tears. The poet understood in an instant. By his instructions, -Claire was removed to Rue St. Anastase the very next day; Triger, her -mother's doctor, was instructed to visit her daily. Not venturing to -pronounce at once the dread name of consumption, he spoke of a chill and -chlorosis. Claire scarcely heeded, and indicated by a feeble gesture -that she was too spent to care. The head she tried to raise from the -pillow, fell back as if too heavy for the frail neck. Her large dark -eyes gazed through space at some melancholy vision. Her hands upon the -white sheets hardly retained strength to clasp themselves in a caress -or a prayer. - -She begged that Pradier might be informed of her illness. He wrote -first, and then came. He demonstrated his affection by theatrical -gestures and well-chosen words. Then he placed a villa, which he said he -possessed at Auteuil, at the disposal of the invalid and her mother. The -so-called villa proved to be one floor in a tenement house, 57, Rue de -La Fontaine. Claire was taken there in the early part of May. Her mother -accompanied her. Victor Hugo visited them nearly every day, but neither -the compliments of "Monsieur Toto" nor the roses he brought his -ex-pupil, nor the exhortations of Doctor Louis, whom he brought with him -one day, were successful in restoring colour to the countenance of one -whose blood-spitting left her every day paler and more exhausted. Claire -hardly dared raise herself in bed; icy sweats drenched her, and she -moaned continuously, in a manner terribly painful to those who were -forced to stand by, helpless. - -On June 6th, she asked to see the Vicar of St. Mande, her confessor. On -the 16th, she received the Last Sacraments. On the 18th, delirium -supervened, and she expired on the 21st. They buried the girl in the -first place at Auteuil, but when her will was read, in which she had -written, "I desire to be buried in the cemetery of Saint-Mande. I also -beg that Monsieur l'Abbe Chaussotte should celebrate my funeral Mass, -and that green grass should be grown on my grave," Victor Hugo and -Pradier agreed to have the coffin exhumed. The ceremony took place on -July 11th. Juliette, who was more dead than alive, was not present; but -Victor Hugo and Pradier walked together behind the funeral car, leading -the white procession of Claire's young pupils and companions. The -sculptor, always full of intentions, plans, and chatter, discoursed in a -low voice of the magnificent tomb he would raise with his own hands to -the memory of his daughter. It should be, he said, "a sacred debt; I -shall execute it with so much love that my chisel will never before have -fashioned anything so chaste or so beautiful." - -After the long, slow journey through Paris in the sunshine, they reached -the cemetery of Saint Mande. Near the tomb of the poet's friend, Armand -Carel, a freshly dug grave yawned, gloomy and covetous. There was some -singing, some blessing, the turmoil of a congested crowd; then they -separated, but not without a renewal of Pradier's promise. - -Eight years later he died himself, without having discharged his "sacred -debt." One more resolve had fizzled out in empty words. Victor Hugo was -then living precariously in exile, but as soon as he heard of the -sculptor's end, he wrote off and ordered a decent headstone for Claire, -and directed that the grave should be sown with green grass. Upon the -tomb were carved four of the lines he had erstwhile written for -Juliette's consolation, and he set about composing others. Thus it came -about that, to the very last, Claire Pradier was protected by the father -of Leopoldine against two of the fears that had most alarmed her -youthful imagination, "a neglected grave in some distant cemetery, and a -faded memory in the hearts of men." - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -"ON AN ISLAND" - - -I - -Juliette relates that when she had occasion to admonish her maid, or -find fault with a tradesman during her residence in Jersey and Guernsey, -the answer she invariably received was: "It cannot be helped, Madame; we -are on an island...." - -The phrase tickled her fancy, and she adopted it and made use of it on -many occasions. - -The reader of the following chapters must likewise accept the axiom -that, "on an island," things are not quite the same as on the mainland; -for, only by so doing, will he be enabled to peruse without undue -astonishment the extraordinary narration of the life led in common by -Victor Hugo, his wife, sons, friends, and mistress, between 1851 and -1872. - -Its beginning dates from the poet's sojourn in Belgium without Madame -Victor Hugo, at the beginning of his exile[44]; that is to say, in the -last weeks of the year 1851 and the first half of 1852. Not that his -precarious circumstances and prudent, somewhat middle-class habits, -permitted him to house Juliette under his own roof: indeed, their -_liaison_ was never more secret. But, at Brussels, the problem of the -relations henceforth to exist between the sons of Victor Hugo and she -whom they already called "our friend, Madame Drouet," first came up for -solution. It was at Brussels also, that Juliette set herself to simplify -it, if not settle it, by her devotion, unselfishness, and unremitting -attentions. - -At his first arrival on December 14th the poet had taken rooms at the -Hotel de la Porte Verte in the narrow street of the same name. He -remained there barely three weeks, and on January 5th, 1852, took a -small room on the first floor of No. 27, Grand' Place. It was "furnished -with a black horsehair couch, convertible into a bed, a round table, -which served indifferently for work and for relaxation, and an old -mirror, over the chimney which contained the pipe of the stove."[45] - -Juliette never went there, but we learn from the poet's complaints to -her, that the couch was too short for a man, the mattresses hard, and -offensive to the olfactory nerve, and that sleep was difficult to -obtain, on account of the noises in the street. But with the first -streak of dawn outside the lofty window, the "great facade of the Hotel -de Ville entered the tiny chamber and took superb possession of it"[46]; -the atmosphere became impregnated with art and history. The poet's fine -imagination and ardour for work did the rest. Hence the tone of his -letters to his wife, who had remained behind in France, was almost -joyous. It was full of masculine courage. Hence, also, that air of -"simple dignity and calm resignation," which characterised his bearing -in exile, "adding to his inherent nobility and charm," and drawing from -Juliette the enthusiastic exclamation: "Would that I were you, that I -might praise you as you deserve!"[47] - -Truth to tell, she merited a rich share of the praise herself. The -little comfort Victor Hugo was able to enjoy, and the moral support he -needed more than ever, came to him solely through her. - -She lodged almost next door, at No. 10, Passage du Prince,[48] with -Madame Luthereau, a friend of her youth, married to a political pamphlet -writer. For the modest sum of 150 frs. a month, of which 25 were paid to -her servant, Juliette obtained food, shelter, and sincere affection. But -what she appreciated more than all these, was the liberty she enjoyed of -superintending from afar the poet's domestic arrangements, and preparing -under the shadow of the galleries the dishes and sweetmeats he partook -of in the publicity of the Grand' Place. Every morning at eight o'clock -her maid, Suzanne, conveyed to Victor Hugo a pot of chocolate made by -Juliette, linen freshly ironed and mended, and sometimes even the -modicum of coal the great man either forgot, or did not trouble, to -order. - -When Suzanne had swept and cleaned the room which Charras, Hetzel, -Lamoriciere, Emile Deschanel, Dr. Yvan, Schoelcher and sometimes Dumas -_pere_ daily enlivened with their wit and littered with the ashes from -their pipes, she returned at about two o'clock. She found her mistress -busy preparing the master's luncheon--a cutlet generally, which Juliette -took the trouble to select herself, in order to make certain that the -butcher cut it near the loin! Suzanne started off again bearing the -cutlet, the bread, the plates and dishes, and even the cup of coffee! -Obedient to her mistress's injunction, she hurried through the street, -for, at any cost, the luncheon must not be allowed to get cold. - -When Charles Hugo joined his father in February 1852, it might be -supposed that Juliette would relinquish her role of _cordon bleu_; but -nothing was further from her intention. She merely proceeded to -supplement the daily cutlet with a dish of scrambled eggs, in honour of -the young man. Hugo having opened the necessary credit, she continued -the task she had undertaken, and prepared two luncheons instead of one. -Again, when on May 24th Madame Victor Hugo came for the second time to -visit her husband in Brussels, it was Juliette who undertook to cook a -little feast for her. In the agitation caused by such a high honour, she -forgot to add an extra fork. She worried for the rest of the day over -the omission, and apologised in successive letters to the poet, in the -terms a _devote_ might employ to confess a mortal sin.[49] - -But these occupations did not prevent the afternoons from hanging heavy -on her hands. Victor Hugo spent them in writing _Napoleon le Petit_; or -he organised expeditions to Malines, Louvain, Anvers, with friends; or -he yielded to the material pleasures of Flemish life, and accepted -invitations to dine at some of those culinary institutes on which -Brussels so prides herself. - -But none of these resources were open to Juliette. Confined within the -four walls of her narrow chamber, her only view was of roofs, and a dull -wall, pierced by a single dirty window; she spent whole hours watching a -canary in its cage, through the thick panes. She likened her condition -to that of the tiny captive. At other times, she allowed her thoughts to -roam among past events, and brooded over the packet of letters so -cruelly sent to her the year before[50]; she dwelt upon the grief she -had endured for many months, the choice the poet had finally made in her -favour, and their joint excursion to Fontainebleau to celebrate the -reconciliation. Under the depressing influence of the grey Belgian sky, -always partially obscured by thick smoke, she realised that her splendid -vitality and her love for novelty had departed for ever. Then she -allowed jealousy to resume its sway over her, more powerfully than ever. - -In this mood, she once more resolved to set Victor Hugo free: "If you -tell me to go," she wrote on January 25th, 1852, "I will do so without -even turning my head to look at you." But again he bade her stay. - -Gravely, then, without showing any symptom of her former coyness, she -proposed to discontinue her letters. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN JERSEY.] - -Fortunately, at this very juncture, the unwelcome attentions of the -Belgian police, who were nervous about the forthcoming publication of -_Napoleon le Petit_, had decided Victor Hugo to leave Brussels and go to -Jersey. Juliette was to go also, either in the steamer with him, or in -one starting a few hours later. Naturally he urged her to go on writing, -if only to bridge over the short separation. She admits that when she -landed at St. Helier, on August 6th, 1852, hope had once more gained the -ascendant within her breast. For the first time in her life, she was -about to enjoy the society of her "dear little exile," her "sublime -outlaw," all by herself, far from the madding crowd. - - -II - -Victor Hugo resided at first in an hotel at St. Helier, called La Pomme -d'Or. Later he settled on the sea-front at Marine Terrace, Georgetown, -in an enormous house which, owing to its square shape and skylights, -resembled a prison. - -Juliette had intended to put up at the Auberge du Commerce, but for -twenty years she had never sat at a table d'hote without the protection -of the poet. The proximity of tradespeople and farmers proved -insupportable to her. On August 11th she began a search for a suitable -boarding-house, and presently concluded a bargain with the proprietress -of Nelson Hall, Havres-des-Pas, for lodging at eight shillings a week, -and board at two shillings a day. This made a monthly expenditure of -about a hundred and fifteen francs, to which was added twenty-five -francs, the wages of Suzanne, her maid. - -Like Marine Terrace, Nelson Hall's chief claim to maritime advantages -was its name. At Victor Hugo's house there were no large windows -overlooking the sea, and in Juliette's ground-floor rooms, a high paling -screened the topmost crest of the highest wave. - -Our heroine tried to console herself by listening to the surge of the -ocean, and copying the nearly completed manuscript of _L'Histoire d'un -crime_, or the poems the poet intended to add to the volume of _Les -Chatiments_. At the end of September she moved upstairs to a large room -on the first floor of the house, whence a wide view could be had of the -barren scenery of Havres-des-Pas, from the battery of Fort Regent on the -right, to the rocks of St. Clement on the left; but Juliette's peaceful -contemplation was constantly disturbed by the violence of the -proprietress, a drunkard, who was renowned all over the island for the -vigour with which she beat her husband when in her cups. - -A further removal was therefore decided upon in January 1853, and -carried out on February 6th. Juliette went to live in furnished -apartments next door, consisting, as in Paris, of a bedroom, -drawing-room, dining-room, and kitchen, on the first floor. They -overlooked a vast stretch of sand and shingle, rocks and seaweed. - -At first Victor Hugo seldom went to his friend's house, but met her each -day at the outset of his walk and took her with him along roads where -the magic of summer glorified every blade of grass. From end to end of -the island, Dame Nature had transformed herself into a garden, where all -was perfumed, gay, and smiling. Juliette, walking arm in arm with her -lover, could feel the glad beating of his heart; her upraised eyes noted -that his dear face seemed less worried. With the ingenuity of a -twenty-year-old sweetheart, she entertained him of his own country, and -invoked memories of the journeys they had made together in former days -to the Rhine, the Alps, the Pyrenees. The exile remembered, not the -rain, nor the omnibuses, nor the thousand trifles recalled by Juliette, -but France ... his own beautiful France.... Under the influence of that -voice which had once made him free of the realm of love, his country was -restored to him for a fleeting moment. - -The lovers were unpleasantly surprised by the week of tempests which -ushered in the equinox, and was followed without a pause by the setting -in of winter. "Everything became sombre, grey, violent, terrible, -stormy, severe." Day and night rain fell, and "the drops chased each -other down the window-panes like silver hairs."[51] Amidst the uproar to -which frenzied Nature suddenly delivered herself, the daily tramps were -perforce discontinued. Fortunately for Juliette, Victor Hugo found -Nelson House warmer than his house at Marine Terrace. His wife had -recently joined him, but had brought with her neither comfort nor the -serene atmosphere propitious for an author's labours. As in the old days -of the Rue St. Anastase, therefore, he set up a writing-table near the -fire in Juliette's sitting-room, with a few volumes of Michelet and -Quinet, and a novel or two by Georges Sand; and every day, after -lunching with his own family, the poet came to work in his friend's -room. Juliette determined to "find the way back to his heart through his -appetite,"[52] as she wrote to him, so she insisted upon his dining -with her. She appealed to his greediness as well as to his hospitable -instincts, assuring him that nowhere else could he so successfully -entertain his new companions, the exiles, as at her abode. Soon she gave -two "exiles' dinners" a week, then three, then four; finally, she had -one every day. - -With the assistance of his two sons, whom he had at length presented to -Juliette, Victor Hugo presided at these feasts with an affability born -in part of a desire for popularity. Juliette showed herself more -reserved, more severe. Accustomed to treat the poet as a divinity, she -could not tolerate the familiarity of these petty folk. "A brotherly -cobbler is not to my taste," she said harshly. "I cannot resign myself -to this consorting of vulgar mediocrity with your genius." - -Her sweetness to the two sons of the poet was as marked as the -haughtiness of her manner towards the victims of the _Coup d'Etat_. For -twenty years she had longed to be friends with them. As far back as -1839, on the occasion of a distribution of prizes at which Charles and -Francois Victor were to cover themselves with honours, she wrote: "What -a pity I cannot witness their triumph! I love them with all my heart, -and would give my life for them; but that is not enough. I will avenge -myself by praying that they may remain always as they are at present: -charming and good." - -Later we find her treasuring their portraits, anxious about their little -childish ailments, pleading for them when they incurred punishment, and -overwhelming them with little presents manufactured by her pen or -needle, whenever she received the master's sanction to do so. - -What joy it must have given her to receive officially at her table these -children grown to manhood! As soon as she became acquainted with them, -she raised the young men to the level of Victor Hugo in the order of her -preoccupations, and resolved to do nothing for the father, in the way of -spoiling and cherishing, that she did not do also for the sons. If she -copied _Les Contemplations_, she protested that she must also write out -Francois Victor's translation of Shakespeare. If she sent Suzanne to -Marine Terrace with a herb soup for the master, she bade her carry six -lilac shirts for Charles. - -Even young Adele and Madame Victor Hugo accepted her good offices -without demur. For Adele, Juliette picked the earliest strawberries and -the first roses of the Nelson Hall garden; she embroidered handkerchiefs -on which Charles had designed the monogram, and bound together the -serial stories of Madame Sand, cut from magazines. For Madame Victor -Hugo she prepared a certain soup made of goose, which, she said, was -most succulent. She lent her Suzanne, her own servant, for the whole -time Marine Terrace was without a cook, and meanwhile went without a -servant herself, and did her own cooking. She spoilt her skin and wore -down her nails, but she took a pride in her devotion and -self-abnegation, and resolved to carry them even further. She dreamt of -entering Victor Hugo's household for good, to assume in all humility the -position of an ex-mistress become housekeeper. - -However numerous may have been the wrongs Victor Hugo inflicted upon -this woman, whose jealousy he never ceased to excite, one must admit -that he felt and appreciated the greatness of her love. Like a great -many men, the artist in him recognised a moral worth that no longer -satisfied his needs as a lover; he experienced generous revulsions, -under the influence of which he paid her carefully studied attentions, -which bore a semblance of impulse and spontaneity gratifying to her -feelings. - - -III - -The young queen, Victoria, having paid France, in the person of Napoleon -III, the gracious compliment of a visit in August 1855, the exiles of -Jersey dared address an insolent letter to her, which was published by -their quaintly-named journal, _L'Homme_. True to his native chivalry, -Victor Hugo declined to sign this manifesto[53]; but he was indignant -when the authorities of Jersey marked their disapproval by expelling its -three authors. He protested vigorously against their punishment, and was -in his turn driven from the island on August 31st. - -He went to Guernsey, a neighbouring island, bleaker and less temperate -in climate. He settled at first at No. 20, Rue Hauteville, St. Pierre -Port. On May 16th, 1856, he bought a roomy, substantial house built on -the shore at some former period by an English pirate. It only required -restoration, to make it a suitable residence. It was called Hauteville -House. - -Here again, Juliette lived successively at the inn, and at a -boarding-house kept by a Frenchwoman, Mademoiselle Leboutellier. But -when she found that Victor Hugo could no longer content himself with a -temporary house, and intended to send for the furniture and -art-collection he had stored at the rooms in Paris,[54] she begged him -to include her in his plans, and let her have her own things also. She -was tired of so-called English comfort, with its hard beds, narrow -sheets, straight-backed chairs, and tiny wardrobes. - -Victor Hugo gave a generous assent to her request. He took a little -house for her, called La Pallue, close to, and overlooking, Hauteville -House. The faithful Suzanne was despatched to France to pack and send to -Guernsey all the Hugo family's and Juliette's possessions. She returned -on August 9th. The furniture and art-collection arrived on the 20th of -the same month. - -A busy time followed, for the lovers. They threw themselves feverishly -into the excitements of removal, decoration, and treasure-hunting. -Victor Hugo dropped spiritualism and photography, which had been his -recreations in Jersey, to become architect, cabinet-maker, and joiner. -He undertook the supervision of Juliette's arrangements as well as his -own, bought antique Norman furniture, which he turned to various uses, -manufactured carpets and curtains out of Juliette's old theatre frocks, -designed panels and mantelpieces, and the many incongruous articles -which now decorate the Musee Victor Hugo, and which his friend aptly -called "a poetical pot-pourri of art." - -In this wise, the fitting up of the two houses lasted over a -considerable period. We learn from Juliette that the poet was still busy -with his dining-room on April 2nd, 1857, and on May 28th, 1858, he -wrote to Georges Sand: "My house is still only a shell. The worthy -Guernseyites have taken possession of it, and, assuming that I am a rich -man, are making the most of the French gentleman, and spinning out the -work." - -Juliette, whose dwelling was more modest, had the enjoyment of it -sooner. She settled into La Pallue at the beginning of November 1856, -and had the happiness henceforth of seeing her friend many times a day. -He had constructed on the roof of Hauteville House a room that he -somewhat pretentiously named his "crystal drawing-room," and that we -should call a belvedere; it was roofed and covered in with glass on all -sides. His bedroom opened out of it. - -Every morning he sat and worked there, at a flap-table affixed to the -wall, when the cold did not drive him to some warmer part of the house. -Beneath his gaze spread the low town, the port, the group of -Anglo-Norman islands, and, in clear weather, the coast of Cotentin. At -his back, and slightly higher up, Juliette, from her little house, kept -watch and ward over him. From that moment it may be said that, though -Juliette's body was at La Pallue, her heart and mind inhabited -Hauteville House. - -Unfortunately, as winter progressed, the storms grew worse, and a -darkness reigned that made reading and copying difficult. "Like a great -lake turned upside down," the sky hung lowering above the gloomy houses, -and only allowed the pale rays of a leaden sun to pierce through it, at -infrequent intervals. The rest of the time the atmosphere remained -charged with rheumatic-dealing clamminess. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO IN JERSEY.] - -Juliette, just entering her fiftieth year, bore the rigours of the -climate with difficulty. She would have died of it, she declared, had -she not been upheld by the influence of love. She was a martyr to gout, -and greatly dreaded being crippled by it. She brooded long and often -upon death and the dead. Whether under the influence of a priest, or in -response to some inward prompting we cannot tell, but she reverted for a -time to her former religious practices. - - -IV - -In April 1863, when Juliette was slowly recovering from another attack -of gout, Victor Hugo realised the extreme humidity of La Pallue. On the -advice of his sons, who seem to have been of one mind with him on the -subject, he decided that Juju, as he called her, should move as quickly -as possible, and that he should for the second time assume the functions -of architect, upholsterer, and decorator of her new dwelling. - -Juliette offered a prolonged and strenuous resistance to the plan, for -the house chosen for her possessed the grave inconvenience of being at -some distance from Hauteville House. The idea that she would no longer -be able to watch every movement of her lover, drew from our heroine -lamentations and loving reproaches. But Victor Hugo was adamant, and on -February 2nd, 1864, the anniversary of the first performance of _Lucrece -Borgia_, "Princesse Negroni" took up her abode in the new house, which -she named Hauteville Feerie. - -There again the poet had arranged everything himself. Remembering -Juliette's attachment for her rooms in Rue St. Anastase, he had -endeavoured to reconstitute faithfully its curtain of crimson and gold, -its peacocks embroidered on panels, its china, the porcelain dragons -which adorned the dresser, and especially the numerous mirrors that -reflected and multiplied the furniture, knick-knacks, and embroideries. - -When Juliette was shown this "marvel," she said she had no words to -express her admiration and gratitude. Then, knowing how often Madame -Victor Hugo was away on the Continent, and how uncomfortable the poet -was at home, she offered to act in turn as hostess and housekeeper to -him. - -In 1863 we find her assuming Madame Victor Hugo's duties during the -short absence of the latter, and at the end of 1864, during a further -one which lasted until February 1867, she divided her time equally -between Hauteville House and Hauteville Feerie. - -But there is a difference in her methods of ruling the two -establishments. At Hauteville House she governs without obtruding -herself, wisely, discreetly, somewhat mysteriously. She directs the -servants, reproves them if necessary, superintends the accounts, and -keeps down expenses. But she carries out her task from her place in the -background. Officially, the poet lives alone with his sons and his -sister-in-law, Madame Julie Chenay; when he entertains friends from -Paris, Juliette's name is not mentioned. - -At Hauteville Feerie, on the contrary, our heroine is at home. It -behoves her to comport herself as the mistress of the house, and expend -her gifts of mind, as well as her talents as a manager. As she says, -"she must be both lady and housekeeper." - -In this double role it might be supposed that she would be reluctant to -receive the exiles presented to her by Victor Hugo, whose society is so -distasteful to her. Not so. Once more Juliette accepts, through duty and -devotion, that which she never would have tolerated on her own account. - -The poet was bored, alas! Though he was composing splendid poetry, his -long dialogue with Mother Nature was beginning to pall upon him. His -somewhat theatrical genius demanded more than a fine stage; it required -a public. Without it, the author of _Les Chatiments_ was but the shadow -of the poet of _Ruy Blas_. No doubt the bronzing of his skin by the salt -breath of the sea, and the virulence of his spite against Napoleon III, -lent him a fictitious appearance of spring and vigour; but there were -times when he flagged sadly, and when despondency and fatigue expressed -themselves in the droop of his lips, the sagging of his ill-shaved -cheeks, the wrinkles on his brow, and, especially, the heavy pockets -beneath his eyes. His attire betrayed his complete neglect of himself. -When he walked through the Place de Hauteville in his Girondin hat all -battered by the wind, his cashmere neckcloth carelessly knotted under an -untidy collar, his open coat revealing a buttonless shirt in summer, and -in winter, a faded scarlet waistcoat which Robespierre himself would -have despised, the little children he so loved ran from him as if he -were accursed.[55] - -Juliette grasped these mute warnings, and, as soon as she was -established in the vast frame of Hauteville Feerie, she attempted to -reconstitute the society she had once presided over at Jersey. She even -endeavoured to enlarge the circle and admit a few new-comers. - -Juliette was able to maintain the simple dignity to which she attached -so much importance, and from which she departed only in favour of her -poet, in the most delicate circumstance of her life, namely, when Madame -Victor Hugo offered her her friendship. She did not decline it, but, -where many might have erred by an excess of satisfaction and -familiarity, she showed a discreet reserve highly creditable to her. -Since their exile, the relations of the two women had undergone a great -change. On the one hand, Madame Victor Hugo's perpetual pursuit of -pleasure, her constant fatigue, her laziness, and her incapacity to -manage a house, had gradually involved her in the network of attentions, -civilities, and petting, Juliette lavished upon her and hers. The -reports brought to her by her sons and servants of the doings at -Hauteville Feerie, had given her a good opinion of our heroine; her -natural kindliness did the rest, and she showed herself disposed to -treat in neighbourly, and even friendly, fashion one whom she might -justly have hated as a rival. - -On the other hand, Juliette no longer felt that jealousy of the mistress -against the legitimate wife, that she had experienced at the beginning -of her love-story. But actual friendship between Madame Victor Hugo and -Juliette was hindered for a long time, by the fear of English criticism, -and of those Guernseyites of whom Victor Hugo wrote, that they made even -the scenery of the island look prim. Juliette dreaded the unkind -tittle-tattle the exiles would not fail to retail to her, if she -accepted the advances from Hauteville House. Therefore, during the first -ten years at Guernsey, she only set foot in her friend's house once, in -1858, to inspect the treasures the master had collected in it. Madame -Victor Hugo was absent that day. - -At the end of 1864, the wife of the poet became more urgent in her -invitations. She was about to depart to the Continent, to undergo -treatment for her eyes; her absence might be, and indeed was, -indefinitely prolonged. However careless she might be in housekeeping -matters, she was probably loath to commit her husband to the tender -mercies of her sister, Madame Julie Chenay, who boasted of possessing -neither aptitude for business nor a head for figures. She saw the use -that might be made of the poet's friend, and opened negotiations by -inviting her to dinner. But Juliette declined. This policy of -self-effacement was continued by her even during the long absence of -Madame Victor Hugo in 1865 and 1866. When Victor Hugo pressed her to -dine with him, in secret if necessary, she wrote: "Permit me to refuse -the honour you offer me, for the sake of the thirty years of discretion -and respect I have observed towards your house." - -In the end, however, Madame Victor Hugo gained the day, and overcame -this dignified reticence. On her return to Guernsey on January 15th, -1867, she declared her intention of paying Juliette a visit. The -diplomatic abilities of the poet were taxed to the uttermost in the -regulation of the details of this important event. The visit took place -on January 22nd. It was impossible to avoid returning it. Juliette did -so on the 24th, and thenceforth, no longer hesitated to cross the -threshold of Hauteville House. She went there almost every day, to -revise the manuscript and the copies of _Les Miserables_ with the help -of Madame Chenay; in 1868, she spent the whole month of May under its -roof, while her faithful Suzanne was in France. - -Similarly, she no longer minded being seen in public with Victor Hugo -and his sons, and even his wife, during the journeys they made together. -Whereas in 1861, for instance, on a journey to Waterloo and Mont St. -Jean, we still find her dining apart, and seeming to ignore Charles -Hugo, in 1867, she is constantly at the latter's house in Brussels, -attending the family dinners and enjoying the charm of what she calls "a -delicate and discreet rehabilitation" by Madame Hugo and her -daughter-in-law. She took her share in their joys as in their sorrows. - -It was at Brussels that the three grandchildren of the poet were born, -and there also that he lost successively, in April and August 1868, his -eldest grandchild and his wife. He mourned the latter with the sorrow of -a man from whom the memory of his early love has not faded. As for -Juliette, her regret was thoroughly sincere. She did not venture to -attend the funeral, in deference to outside gossip; but when, a few days -later, she went to the house and saw the empty arm-chair Madame Victor -Hugo's indulgent personality had been wont to occupy, she could not -restrain her tears. - -Victor Hugo and his friend returned to Guernsey on October 6th, 1868. -They continued to inhabit separate houses, but dined together at one or -the other. They also resumed their sea-side walks, and their long -talks, of which the chief topic was the second son of Charles Hugo, an -infant who had been left behind at Brussels. - -The infirmities of increasing age occasionally prevented our heroine -from following her indefatigable companion. She would then remain at her -chimney corner, reading the _Lives of the Saints_ or some devotional -book. She was more than ever prone to reflect upon death. She had been -greatly shocked by the rapidity with which Madame Victor Hugo had -succumbed, and she felt that her turn, and that of the poet, must soon -come. She prayed ardently that she might be permitted to go first. - -In August 1869 Victor Hugo took Juliette with him, first to Brussels, -where Charles Hugo and Paul Meurice joined them, and then to the Rhine, -which held so many sweet memories for both. On their return to Guernsey -on November 6th, he proceeded to plan a journey to Italy for the -following winter. He also made arrangements for the revival of _Lucrece -Borgia_ at the Porte St. Martin. The journey to Italy was never carried -out, but on February 2nd, 1870, on the anniversary of its first -performance, _Lucrece_ had a brilliant success. - -The old poet was enchanted. - -Foreseeing the fall of the Empire, and guessing that the French were -sick of a regime which, during the last eighteen years, had confused -government with spying, and politics with police, he redoubled the -activity of his propaganda, and indited letter after letter, manifesto -after manifesto. The more Juliette confessed to the lassitude of age, -the more he seemed to defy his years. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -"THAT WHICH BRINGS SATISFACTION TO THE HEART" - - -I - -When Victor Hugo grasped the full extent of the national disaster in -August 1870, he started immediately for Belgium. On the proclamation of -the Republic, he proceeded to the frontier, where a few official friends -awaited him. - -The scene that took place on his arrival was impressive, though somewhat -theatrical. The "sublime outlaw" asked for the bread and wine of France. -After he had eaten and drunk, he begged Juliette to preserve a fragment -of the bread, and buried his face in his hands with the gesture of one -who is dazzled by too much light. Juliette relates that big tears flowed -through his clenched fingers. The bystanders stood in silence, awed by -his emotion.... - -The poet and our heroine stayed with Paul Meurice at Avenue Frochot for -a time, and then went to the Hotel du Pavillon de Rohan. Finally they -settled, he in a small furnished apartment at 66, Rue de la -Rochefoucauld, and she close by, in a fairly spacious _entresol_ rented -at fourteen hundred francs, at 55, Rue Pigalle. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO, HIS FAMILY, AND JULIETTE DROUET AT -HAUTEVILLE HOUSE.] - -But hardly had they resumed the peaceful tenor of their ways when they -were forced to uproot again. On February 8th, 1871, Victor Hugo was -elected a member of the Assemblee Nationale, and, as he could not -bear to be parted any longer from his grandchildren, he removed his -whole household to Bordeaux, including his son Charles, his mistress -Juliette, and the little heroes of _L'Art d'etre grandpere_. They -started on February 13th, and the poet took his seat on the 15th. On -March 8th he felt it his duty to resign, on account of the refusal of -his colleagues to allow Garibaldi to be naturalised a Frenchman. He was -about to leave, when a fresh sorrow struck him down: this was the sudden -death of Charles Hugo, on March 13th. - -The body of the unfortunate and charming young man was taken back to -Paris, and the funeral took place on the 18th, in the sinister scenario -of the rising insurrection. On the 21st, Victor Hugo went to Belgium to -make arrangements for his grandchildren's future. Two months and a half -later, he was expelled from Brussels, for rewarding its hospitality by -throwing his house open as a refuge to the political miscreants who had -just fired Paris and shed the blood of their compatriots. He was the -object of a violently hostile demonstration on May 27th, 1871, and -afterwards received the decree of expulsion. He went to Vianden, in the -Grand Duchy of Luxembourg, and returned definitely to Paris in September -1871. Juliette had accompanied him everywhere. - -No sooner was the luggage unpacked, than she bravely undertook to amuse -him, by forming a small circle of his friends and admirers, in her -drawing-room at Rue Pigalle. But the undertaking was beyond her powers. -Her long sojourn in a solitary island and her complete absorption in one -sole object, had resulted in the loss of what might be termed her -social talent. In France, and especially in Paris, everything was new -to her, everything caused her agitation. - -The state of her health was not such as to restore her equanimity. She -suffered from gout and heart-disease, was growing stout, walked with -difficulty, slept badly, and was terribly weary: "I am so tired," she -writes, "that I feel as if even eternity would fail to rest me." - -Victor Hugo, therefore, gave up the entertainments at Rue Pigalle; the -boxes were repacked, and on August 14th, 1872, the party returned to -that island where everything spoke to the exile of former joys, from the -anemones he loved, to the cherry-tree he had planted himself. - -In the mornings, at half-past eleven, Victor Hugo used to make his -joyous appearance at Hauteville Feerie, and escort his friend to -Hauteville House, where the luncheon-table was proudly attended by -Georges and Jeanne. In the afternoon, a family drive was organised. The -largest carriage on the island was hardly big enough to contain the dear -beings by whom he loved to be surrounded. The hours drifted peacefully -towards dusk. - -While our heroine lived on future hopes and past memories, Victor Hugo -enjoyed the present more than ever. Every one knows of his gallantry, -and the bold front he offered to advancing age. Amongst other comforting -illusions, he chose to believe that women prefer old men, and he gloried -in proving his theory. With more sense than she has been credited with, -Juliette sometimes managed to close her eyes and ears; at other times -she gently rallied him, congratulating him on the success of his most -recent exploit. But more often it must be admitted that her temper was -not equal to the nobility of her nature. To jealousy was presently added -the pain of humiliation and offended dignity, caused by a vulgar -intrigue, conducted under her very eyes, at her own fireside. - -At last, at the end of the visit to Guernsey, which had turned out so -differently from her expectations, Juliette came to a grave decision. -She resolved to abandon the field to the frail beauties whom chance, -desire, or self-interest, gathered around her poet, and to retire to -live at Brest with her sister, or at Brussels with her friends the -Luthereau. - -Having borrowed 200 frs. from some one, Juliette actually started on -September 23rd, 1873, without leaving the smallest note of farewell for -Victor Hugo. But he lost no time in despatching a letter of recall, and -he couched it in terms so eloquent, and so pathetic, that once more the -poor woman was fain to overlook the past. She returned to Rue Pigalle on -September 27th. She subsequently wrote to the kind hosts with whom she -had taken refuge: "I have been very foolish, very cruel, very stupid; -but I am rewarded. If one could hope for a second resurrection like -this, one might be almost tempted to go through it all again." - - -II - -Shortly after Juliette's act of defiance, her friend imposed the fatigue -of a new removal upon her. The author of _L'Art d'etre grandpere_ had -just lost his son, Francois Victor. More than ever he turned to his -little grandchildren for consolation, and at the end of 1873, he decided -to join households with them and their mother. For a rental of 6,000 -frs. a year, he took two apartments, one above the other, at 21, Rue de -Clichy. On April 28th, 1874, Juliette took possession of the third floor -with her maid, while Madame Charles Hugo, her children, and the poet, -settled in the fourth. - -The receptions and dinners began again almost at once. At first they -were weekly, then bi-weekly, and finally daily. The table was large and -well attended. In addition to the five people forming the family party, -including Juliette, there were rarely fewer than seven guests. Our -heroine, in her capacity of chief steward, usually provided for twelve. -She liked the fare to be simple and substantial: _sole Normande_, -_cotelettes Soubise_, and _poulets au cresson_ were the chief items of -the repast. - -Housekeeping on this scale demanded a staff of competent servants. -Juliette had five, for whom she was responsible. She superintended their -expenditure, their purchases, and the use to which they put the -provisions; she commended good work and reproved faults, and in fact -fulfilled the functions of a majordomo in a situation where the daily -expenditure exceeded L4 for food, and approximated L2 for wines and -spirits. She also had to supervise the department of the invitations, -draw up lists, and sort the guests of each day, so as to temper the -solemnity of a Sch[oe]lcher or a Renan, with the wit and froth of a -Flaubert or a Monselet. Juliette assumed this charge, submitted the -names to Victor Hugo, wrote the letters, opened the answers, and -classified them. If anybody failed at the last moment, she telegraphed -to some one on the "subsidiary list," as she called it, and only ceased -her efforts when she was assured of being able to offer to the -gratified master a full table and a numerous and docile court. - -She was now at the head of that court, but it must not be supposed that -it was by her own desire. On the contrary, she practised the most severe -self-effacement. Clad in black, wearing as her only jewel a cameo set in -gold, representing Madame Victor Hugo, and bequeathed to her in the -latter's will, she usually sat at the chimney-corner in a large -arm-chair. Fatigued by her laborious preparations, it frequently -happened that she fell asleep in the drawing-room, as Madame Victor Hugo -had been wont to do. This lapse of manners so covered her with -confusion, that she made a vow either to bring her health up to the -level of her devotion or else to disappear from view. She did, in fact, -redouble her activities, to an extent astonishing in a septuagenarian. -She undertook to follow the aged poet whenever he mingled with crowds. -At Quinet's and Frederic Lemaitre's funerals, she was present in the -throng, an infirm old woman, watching from a distance, over a Victor -Hugo, upright as a dart, and full of vitality. Did he wish to make an -ascent in a balloon, she was there; when he conducted a rehearsal, or -read one of his early dramas to his modern interpreters, it was she who -led the applause, declared that the voice of Olympio had retained all -its strength and beauty, and that he had never read better. - -In the period between 1874 and 1878 it must be conceded that Victor Hugo -did his best to secure to his friend a greater degree of mental -tranquillity than she had ever enjoyed before. He was careful to conceal -his infidelities from her, and often succeeded in averting scenes and -reproaches; or, if denial seemed impossible, he tried to palliate his -fault and gain indulgence by addressing to her one of those poetical -odes in which he excelled, and from which she derived such pride and -joy. - -But these were only passing revivals of youthful emotions, in the poet -as well as in his friend. They resemble those bonfires of dead leaves, -lighted by labourers in autumn on the summit of bare hills--their flame -can ill withstand the slightest puff of wind. Such a puff blew upon the -old couple in the course of the year 1878. - -Juliette was greatly troubled about the state of her health. She wrote -to the poet, on January 8th: "I feel that everything is going from me -and crumbling in my grasp: my sight, my memory, my strength, my -courage." - -On June 28th of the same year, at one of those copious banquets to which -he still did full justice, and in the midst of an argument with Louis -Blanc concerning Voltaire and Rousseau, Victor Hugo had a cerebral -attack which alarmed his friends exceedingly. His speech faltered, he -gesticulated feebly. Two doctors summoned in haste failed to give -reassurance, and prescribed absolute rest in the country. On July 4th, -the poet was escorted to Guernsey by a large retinue consisting of his -grandchildren, the Meurice family, Juliette, Monsieur and Madame -Lockroy, Richard Lesclide, and another friend, Pelleport. But no sooner -had they reached the island, than Victor Hugo began to show symptoms of -agitation. It could not be on account of his illness, for he was living -quietly and comfortably, rejoicing at the amusement the season afforded -his friends, and taking his own share of it. But, according to the -testimony of one who has published a book concerning the master as witty -as it is frank,[56] the reason was that he had left behind him in Paris -the heroines of several intrigues; amongst others, the young person -whose behaviour had occasioned Juliette's fit of anger and departure for -Brest,[57] and he was fearful lest the post should convey to Guernsey -the forlorn cooings of the deserted doves, and that some echo of them -should reach Juliette. - -Our heroine was certainly informed of some of the circumstances, for on -August 20th, 1878, while still at Guernsey, she wrote the old man a -letter which is a revelation of the changed character of their -intercourse. Victor Hugo answered somewhat crossly and contemptuously, -and nicknamed Juliette "the schoolmistress." - -On his return to Paris on November 10th, he consented to remove to the -little house at Avenue d'Eylau where he ended his days, and which was -then almost in the country. Juliette took the first floor, and he -occupied the second. But presently she arranged to spend the nights in a -spare room next to his, so that she might be at hand to attend upon him -if necessary. - -From that moment it may be said that her life declined into -uninterrupted sadness and servitude. She was suffering from an internal -cancer, and knew that she was condemned to die of slow starvation! -Nevertheless, she played her part of sick nurse with a devotion and a -minute attention to detail to which all witnesses tender their homage. -She it was who entered the poet's chamber each morning, and woke him -with a kiss; she, who put a match to the fire ready laid on the hearth, -and prepared the eggs for his breakfast; she, who waited on the old man -while he ate, opened his letters, made extracts from them when -necessary, and answered the most important. It was she, again, who -undertook to keep her beloved friend company until midday, and to amuse -him, and acquaint him with the current political and literary news. - -The task was heavy enough to weary a much younger brain. Juliette found -it almost beyond her strength. In 1880 she was so overwrought that she -had become nervous, irritable, and restless. At night, when her offices -of reader and sick nurse were over, it must not be supposed that she was -able to sleep. From her bed in the adjoining room, with eyes fixed, and -ear on the stretch, she watched the slumber of her dear neighbour, under -the great Renaissance baldachino, with its crimson damask curtains. Did -he cough, she rose hurriedly and administered a soothing drink; but if -she coughed herself, and thus ran the risk of awaking him, she was -furious, longed for a gag, and tried to suppress the labouring of her -suffering breast. She cursed the years that had made her love a burden -to its object, and chid her body for a bad servant no longer subservient -to her will. - -Severe as were the physical sufferings she bore so patiently under -shadow of the night, Juliette preferred them to the sadness she endured -during the long, solitary afternoons, while her former companion was at -the Senate, at the Academie, or elsewhere. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN 1883. - -From the picture by Bastien Lepage.] - -We must picture her at that period, not as Theodore de Banville -represents her in his formal description, but as Bastien Lepage painted -her with more truth, about the same time. Disease has made cruel inroads -on the grave, serene, once goddess-like features. Her poor countenance -is worn and wasted, covered with a fine network of wrinkles, each one of -which tells its tale of suffering. Her hair, whose sheen was formerly -likened by poets to the satin petals of a lily, and which once fell -naturally into crown-like waves, is roughened and harsh, and has assumed -that yellowish tinge which so often presages death. Her lips, no longer -revived by kisses, are pale, her eyes heavy and anguished, her smile -faded. - -Seated by the fire in winter, and at the open window overlooking the -Avenue d'Eylau in summer, she who was the "Princesse Negroni," now -presents the woeful appearance of a grandmother without grandchildren. - -Sometimes she tries to pray. She calls death to her aid, she complains -of the slowness with which the bonds of the soul loose those of the -body. - -In September 1882, she made a short journey with Victor Hugo to Veules, -to stay with Paul Meurice, and to Villequier, to stay with Auguste -Vacquerie. She took to her bed immediately on her return. By a great -effort of will, she got up once more, to attend the revival of _Le Roi -s'amuse_ on November 25th; then she finally returned to her chamber and -never left it again. - -Neither her body nor her mind was capable of assimilating nourishment. -She waved happy memories aside. - -Every afternoon the old poet paid her a visit. He disliked any mention -of death, and could not bear the sight of suffering. If we are to -believe Juliette, he had made a rule that every one must forswear -melancholy, and shake off sad thoughts, before appearing in his -presence. Docile as ever, the sick woman endeavoured to smile when he -entered her room. She listened submissively to the arguments by which he -sought to persuade her that she did not really suffer, that there is no -such thing as suffering. Up till May 11th, 1883, the very day of her -death, there remained thus about one hour of the day during which she -still had to play her part, restrain her moans, and look cheerful. She -did it to the best of her power, and doubtless, in the triumph of that -daily victory gained over torture by her indomitable spirit, she found -at last the answer that the poet should have put into the mouth of -Maffio--she discovered that "That which brings satisfaction to the -heart" is neither desire, nor caresses, nor even love: it is -self-sacrifice.[58] - - - - -PART II - -_LETTERS_ - - -_Sunday, 8.30 p.m. (1833)._ - -Before beginning to copy or count words,[59] I must write you one line -of love, my dear little lunatic. I love you--do you understand, I love -you! This is a profession of faith which comprises all my duty and -integrity. I love you, _ergo_, I am faithful to you, I see only you, -think only of you, speak only to you, touch only you, breathe you, -desire you, dream of you; in a word, I love you! that means everything. - -Do not therefore give way any more to melancholy; permit yourself to be -loved and to be happy. Fear nothing from me, never doubt me, and we -shall be blissful beyond words. - -I am expecting you shortly, and am ready with warm and tender caresses -which, I hope, will cheer you. - -Your JUJU. - - -(1833). - -Since you left me I carry death in my heart. If you go to the ball -to-night, it must be at the cost of a definite rupture between us. The -pain I suffer at imagining you moving among that throng of fascinating, -careless women, is too great for you to be able to inflict it without -incurring guilt towards me. Write to me "Care of Madame K...." If I do -not hear from you before midnight, I shall understand that you care very -little for me ... that all is over between us ... and for ever. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 2.30 p.m. (1833)._ - -I cannot refrain, dearly beloved, from commenting upon the profound -melancholy you were in this morning, and upon the doubt you manifest on -every occasion as to the sincerity of my love. This unjustifiable -suspicion on your part disheartens me beyond all expression. It -intimidates me and makes me fear to confide to you the incidents my -dubious position exposes me to. To-day, for instance, I concealed from -you the visit of a creditor, who presented himself to the porter, but -was not shown up. I paid him out of my own resources, without your -knowledge, because you are always telling me _I do not love you_. This -expression from you makes me feel that you hold a shameful opinion of me -and my character, rendered possible perhaps by my situation, but none -the less false, unjust, and cruel. - -I love you _because_ I love you, because it would be impossible for me -not to love you. I love you without question, without calculation, -without reason good or bad, faithfully, with all my heart and soul, and -every faculty. Believe it, for it is true. If you cannot believe, I -being at your side, I will make a drastic effort to force you to do so. -I shall have the mournful satisfaction of sacrificing myself utterly to -a distrust as absurd as it is unfounded. - -Meanwhile, I ask your pardon for the guilty thought that came to me this -morning, and which may possibly recur, if you continue to see in my love -only a mean-spirited compliance and an unworthy speculation. This letter -is very lengthy, and very sad to write. I trust with all my soul, that I -may never have to reiterate its sentiments. - -I love you. Indeed I love you. Believe in me. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 8.15 p.m. (1833)._ - -Here is a second letter. Forgive my epistolary extravagance. Honestly, I -imagine you must soon tire, to put it as mildly as possible, of this -superabundance of letters. - -The reason of my writing again is no novel one: it is merely to repeat -that I love you every day and every instant more and more; that I feel -convinced you are only too eager to return my sentiments, but that -between your desire and your capacity there stands a wall a hundred feet -high, entitled "suspicion." Suspicion leads to contempt, and when that -exists, no real love is possible. There is no answer to what I have just -stated. I feel it, and am crushed by my sorrow. I know not what to do, -where to go, what plans to make. I can only suffer, just as I can only -love you. - -JULIETTE. - -If ever this letter is found, it will be seen that my love was -insufficient in your eyes to atone for my past. - -_2 a.m. (1833)._ - -MY VICTOR, - -I love you truly, and neither know, nor can conceive, any personality -more deserving of devotion than yourself. - -I look up to you as a faithful, reliable friend, as the noblest and most -estimable of men. - -It hurts me to feel that my past life must be an obstacle to your -confidence. Before I cared for you, I felt no shame for it, I made no -attempt to conceal or alter it; but, since I have known you, this -attitude of mind has changed in every respect. I blush for myself, and -dread lest my love have not the strength to erase the stains of the -past. I fear it even more, when you suspect me unjustly. - -My Victor, it is for your love to sanctify me, for your esteem to renew -in me all that once was good and pure. - -I care for you so much that all this is possible. I will become worthy -of you, if you will only help me. - -Farewell. You are my soul, my life, my religion; I love you. - -JULIETTE. - -Your appreciation of my letters is one of the best proofs of love you -have yet given me. I will set to work to reconstruct them. Nothing has -happened since you left me yesterday, except that my love for you has -increased. - - -(1833.) - -Before reading this letter, look upon me once more with affection. - -My poor friend, I am about to grieve and surprise you greatly. Yet it -has to be done. I no longer have the courage to bear up against your -unjust and suspicious jealousy, and your continued mistrust of a -sentiment as pure and true as that which one cherishes towards God. They -wear me out and make me wretched to the last degree. I would rather -leave you, than expose myself to fresh grief, which might end in -destroying either my reason or my love. This resolve is dictated by the -excess of my affection. Even if you suffer, forgive me, and bless me -before you leave me for ever. I love you. - -J. - - -(1833.) - -Since you insist upon a denial of offences which exist only in your -imagination, I owe it to you to make it comprehensive and without -restriction. It is not true that I have tried to offend you by -reproaches unworthy of yourself and of me. It is not true that I have -ever held any opinion of you, but this one, that I esteem you above all -men. - -The real and irrevocable cause of our estrangement, is the certainty -that your love for me is incomplete. I am more persuaded of it every -day, and particularly to-day, when you have actually told me that you -thought I had misled you as to the state of my affections. - -This is a grave offence towards a woman who has never deceived you on -the subject of her heart, and whose only fault is to love you too much; -for her very excess in this respect, has given her the sad courage to -risk losing your esteem, in order to preserve your love one day longer. - -But I am unwilling to think you intended to hurt me by allowing me to -see the canker in your heart. I prefer to believe that we are equally -the victims of a calamity, under which our only resource, is to separate -from one another. Possibly our wounds will heal when they are no longer -exposed to the continual friction of carping suspicion. - -Good-bye. Forgive me if I have offended you. I am loath to hurt you. - -J. - -I beg you not to attempt to see me again. This is the last sacrifice I -will ask of you.[60] - - -_(June 1833.)_ - -MY DEAR VICTOR, MY BELOVED, - -Do not be anxious! I am as well as a poor woman, who has lost her -happiness and the sole joy of her existence, can expect to be. If I -could let you know my place of refuge without exposing us both, but more -particularly myself, to useless wretchedness, I would do so. Confidence, -the indispensable ingredient in a union such as ours, no longer exists -in your mind. God is my witness that I have never once deceived you in -matters of love, during the past four months. Any concealment I have -been guilty of, has only been with the intention of sparing us both -unnecessary worry, in view of the attitude of mind we have been in -lately. - -I may have been wrong; the purity of my intention must be my excuse. - -[Illustration: CLAIRE PRADIER. - -From an unpublished drawing by Pradier.] - -_9.45 p.m. Saturday, August 13th (1833)._ - -While you are on your travels, dearest, my thoughts follow you in all -love. Though I still feel somewhat sore, I will strive to control -myself, and speak only those gentle words you like to hear. - -It was dear of you to allow me to come to your house.[61] It was far -more than a satisfaction to my curiosity, and I thank you for having -admitted me to the spot where you live, love, and work. Yet, to be -entirely frank with you, my adored, I must tell you that the visit -filled me with sadness and dejection. I realise more than ever, the -depth of the chasm that gapes between your life and mine. It is no fault -of yours, beloved, nor of mine; but so it is. It would be unreasonable -of me to call you to account for more than you are responsible for, yet -I may surely tell you, dearly beloved, that I am the most miserable of -women. - -If you have any pity for me, dear love, you will assist me to rise -superior to the lowly and humble position which tortures my spirit as -well as my body. - -Help me, my good angel, that I may believe in you and in the future. - -I beg and implore you. - -J. - - -(1833.) - -It is not quite six o'clock in the evening. I have just finished copying -the verses you gave me yesterday. I am not very familiar with the forms -of compliment in usage in fashionable society. All I can tell you is -that I wept and admired when I heard you read them, that I wept and -admired when I read them to myself, and that once more I weep and admire -in recalling them. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for having -thought of me when you were writing them. Thank you, my beloved, for the -benign sentiments that inspired you. Your beautiful lines have had the -effect you anticipated, for they have acted both as a cordial and a -sedative to my sick spirit. Thank you! thank you! and again, thank you! -You are not only sublime--you are kind, and, what is better still, you -are indulgent, you who have so much right to be severe. - -I love you. My heart melts in admiration and adoration. There is more -rapture of love in my poor bosom than it is capable of containing. Come -then, and receive the superabundance of my ecstasy. - -If you only knew how I long for you, and desire you! If you knew _more -still_, you would come, I am very sure! Come, come, I beg you, come! You -shall have a kiss for every step, a recompense for every effort, more -smiles, and more joy, than you will encounter fog and cold. - -JULIETTE. - -I am writing this a little later because, before turning to business, I -had to unburthen my heart. I came home yesterday, read your poetry, -dined, did my accounts, and went to bed. I read the newspapers you sent, -went to sleep, dreamed of you, and woke up this morning at 8 o'clock. I -rose almost immediately, did some housework, and mended yesterday's -frock. In the middle of breakfast Lanvin arrived, bringing the -newspapers and a letter from M. Pradier and some of Mademoiselle -Watteville's luggage. He asked whether we should want him to see us off. -He left again at 1 p.m., taking Claire's things with him and some of his -wife's. When he had gone, I washed and did my hair, did the same for -Claire, and at 2.30 I sat down to copy, and now I am writing to you. -This, Colonel, is my report. Are you satisfied? Then, so is the Corporal -of the Guard! After dinner I shall hear the children their lessons, and -count the lines of _Feuilles d'Automne_. - -_After dinner._ - -I have heard the children's lessons, and been obliged to punish your -_protegee_, Claire, who is the laziest and idlest of all the pupils. I -have just read your poem to Madame Lanvin; she was deeply moved. The -poor thing understands you, therefore I need not explain that she loves -you. Good-night, until to-morrow, I hope. - -I suppose you did not come to-day because you had arrangements to make -for our journey; that is why I am able to possess my soul in patience. - -J. - - -_Sunday, 4 p.m. (1833)._ - -I have just come in sad and depressed. I suffer, I weep, I wail aloud -and moan under my breath, to God and to you. I long to die, that I might -put an end once and for all, to this misery and disappointment and -sorrow. It really seems as if my happiness had disappeared with the fine -weather. It would be folly to expect to see either again. The season is -too far advanced for fine weather or for happy days. You poor silly, -who wonder that I should deplore so bitterly the loss of one day's -happiness, it is easy to see that you had not to wait for the privilege -of loving and being loved till you were twenty-six years old! You poet, -who wrote _Les Feuilles d'Automne_ in an atmosphere of love, laughter of -children, eyes azure and black, locks brown and gold, happiness in full -measure! You have had no cause to notice how one day of gloom and rain, -like this, can make the greenest of leaves wither and fall to the -ground. You cannot therefore know how twenty-four hours robbed of bliss -can undermine one's self-confidence and strength for the future. It is -evident that you do not, for you wonder when I weep; you are almost -annoyed at my grief. You see, therefore, that you do not realise the -measure of my devotion. Surely I have good reason for regretting that I -love you so ardently, when I see that love uncalled for and unwelcome! -Oh, yes, I love you, it is true! I love you in spite of myself, in spite -of you, in spite of the whole world, in spite of God, in spite even of -the Devil, who mixes himself up in it. - -I love you, I love you, I love you, happy or unhappy, merry or sad. I -love you! Do with me what you will, I still shall love you. - -J. - - -_Monday, 1.50 a.m., 1833._ - -I have been standing at the window all this time, my soul stretched -towards you, my ear attentive to every sound, fearing always lest your -courage should fail you before the end of your weary walk. It is half an -hour since you left; I have listened hard, but no sound has reached me -that could make me apprehend you had not the strength to reach your own -house. I trust that while I am penning these lines, you are already -experiencing the relief that bed and repose will bring to your -suffering. No words of mine can suffice to express to you my regret, my -sorrow, my despair, for what happened to-night. I do not acquit you -altogether of guilt, but I ask you to pardon your own, as well as mine. -Forgive me for having yielded to you after what had passed between us. I -ought to have foreseen what would happen, and what did happen. God -knows, I had resisted as long as I could, and had given way only upon -the solemn promise you made me, never to refer to the stains of my -former life, so long as my conduct towards you should remain honest and -pure. - -The last seven months of my life have been absolutely honest and pure! -Yet, have you kept your word? - -If I were the only one to suffer I should be more resigned, but you are -as unhappy as I; you are as ashamed of the insults you heap upon me, as -I am, of receiving them. - -Now that I perceive fully the canker that lies at the root of our -position, it is my part to arrest the progress of the evil by cutting -out my soul and my life, to preserve what can still be saved of yours -and mine. - -Listen, Victor, I urge you not to refuse me your assistance in carrying -out the plan I think indispensable for the honour of us both. - -If anything can give you courage it must be the knowledge that I have -been faithful to you alone, these seven months. Ah, truly I have never -deceived you! Truly! truly! Yet in the course of these same months, how -many mortifying scenes such as that of to-night have taken place! - -Surely you can see that we must no longer hesitate! I will go away by -the first Saumur omnibus. The health of my little girl can serve as a -pretext. When I am with her, I shall be able to reflect upon my -position, and see what I can do in order to render it tolerable. If, as -probably may be necessary, I were to leave the theatre, the furniture -would cover my debt to Jourdain, and if you were unwilling to be -worried, I could request any man of business to sell it, up to the -amount of my bill to Jourdain, which is the only one for which you are -responsible. - -I shall go abroad. Such as I am, I am still capable of earning my -living, which is all that is necessary. - -But all this is beside the question. The important point is that I ought -to start as soon as possible, to-day even, in order to protect us both -from ourselves. - -Before going, I hope to see you once more, unless your condition should -become worse--which is a horrifying thought when I consider that I am -the cause of it. - -But whether I see you or not, whether you are the victim of my temper or -not, I leave with you all my love and all my happiness. I do not reserve -even hope; I give into your keeping my soul, my thoughts, my life. I -take only with me my body, which you have no cause to regret. - -JULIETTE. - - -(_December 20th, 1833._) - -MY BELOVED VICTOR, - -I have been very unjust to you. You have had cause to call me ungrateful -and unworthy. You will soon hate me--soon also, you will have forgotten -me. I feel it. You see, there can be no thought or sentiment of yours -that I do not understand and apprehend. At this moment, even while I am -writing to you, you are blaming me for suffering. You are annoyed with -me for idolising you with an extravagance which renders me mad and -jealous. You are tired of my love. It cramps you, fatigues you. You -meditate flying from me. My bad luck frightens you; you fear to share it -longer. You dread the responsibility--say, rather, you love me less, -perhaps not at all. Oh, what suffering that fear gives me! My head is -aching. I wish I could die. It must be my fault. I have been wrong to -show you the hideous wound in my heart, the jealousy which lacerates and -destroys it. Yes, I ought to have concealed my sufferings from you. I -ought never to fly into those rages that betray the depth of my love and -grief. - -My Victor, do not leave me! I beg you on my knees, not to be daunted -before a public responsibility. Who has the right to demand from you an -account of the measure of the sacrifices you have made for me? What does -it matter if you are denied the justice you deserve? What matter that -you should be held responsible in part for my troubles? The point to be -considered before all others, is your private relations with me. The -responsibility you must accept is towards me only; it concerns only our -two selves. If you repudiate it, it will kill me, for my whole life is -wrapped up in you and your presence. I breathe only through your lips, -see only with your eyes, live only in your heart. If you withdraw -yourself from me, I must die. - -Reflect! This is not a threat, to keep you near me. I am not -exaggerating the extent to which you are necessary to my very -existence--I am only telling you what I feel. It is the truth, but the -truth under restriction, for I hardly dare acknowledge it in its -entirety, even to myself. _I need you! Only you! I cannot exist without -you._ Think of it. Try to love me enough to accept the charge of my -life, with all its attendant bad luck. - -JULIETTE. - - -_2 a.m., January 1st, 1834._ - -TO THEE, MY VICTOR! - -I dare not say anything. Guess what I am feeling and do with me what you -will! - -I love you ... the memory of what has gone before, and my fears for the -future, prevent me from describing my emotions as freely as formerly. -Forget the past, take the future into your own hands, and I shall regain -the faculty of saying "I love you," as earnestly as I mean it. - -I love you.... JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday morning, 1834._ - -TO MONSIEUR VICTOR HUGO, - -IN TOWN. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1830. - -From Champmartin's picture (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -It is a quarter to one. I have been to your printing-works, numbers 16 -and 19; you had not been seen. I went on to your house; you had not come -in. I wrote you a line; I waited for you.... At last I came home hoping -to find you; but you had not been here. My thanks to you for treating me -like a vagrant dog. You had informed me that you were going to the -printing-works, that you might go back to your house, that you would -certainly go to mine. - -You forgot your promises at once, and you apparently hold my love very -cheap. - -If you, indifferent though you may be, could see me in imagination, as I -sit writing to you, you would be horrified at the condition your -injustice and disdain have reduced me to. - -It is evident that you no longer love me, and that you are only bound to -me by the fear of causing some great calamity if you desert me. It is -indeed grievous that this should be the only sentiment which links you -to me, and I am unwilling to accept a devotion so hollow and -humiliating. I give you back your freedom. From this moment you have no -responsibility towards me, although my heart is broken, although my soul -is still fuller of love than it is able to contain, although my eyes, as -I write, are drenched with bitter tears. I shall still have the courage -necessary to bear my life as it will be, when bereft of happiness and -laughter. - -You have been very cruel to me. I forgive you. Forgive also my tempests -of rage. I am ashamed of them, and thoroughly wretched. I swear to you -by that which I hold most sacred in life, namely my child, that I am -unable to explain how I can have been guilty yesterday of a thing I -utterly disapprove of, and which seems to me the acme of effrontery. I -swear I never saw those men. I am innocent of any crime. I can say no -more. You have crushed me by referring again to my past life, and even -while I am assuring you of my love and repentance, and while I still -hope for a reconciliation, I tremble to feel that you can suspect me so -unjustly. My heart shrinks from the sorrow still in store for it ... my -pen fails me ... - -Farewell! May you enjoy greater tranquillity and happiness than will -fall to my lot. Do not forget that, for a whole year, we were happy -solely by means of our love. - -Good-bye! I have indeed received my full meed of punishment for the -imaginary crime of yesterday. - -Farewell. Think of me without bitterness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 2 a.m. (1834)._ - -I returned from the Place Royale about two hours ago. It was ten o'clock -when I arrived there, and I left at about midnight. I had hoped to bring -you back with me, or, failing to do so, to catch at least a glimpse of -you. I waited patiently all that time, hoping that you would become -aware of my presence, and reward me for it by one glance. But everything -remained dark and gloomy for me, though it was easy to see the lights -through the drawn blinds, and the shadows of many people moving about. - -It will not be the last time, in all probability, that I shall have the -opportunity of seeing that, while I suffer and weep, you make merry. -Forgive me, my Victor, forgive me for this comparison of our respective -lots. It is the last time I shall make it, perhaps even the last time I -shall write to you, for you have said that you will not read any more of -my letters for a long time ... a long time signifies "for ever," for you -will forget me and I shall die. Your love was my whole life. To-night I -feel as miserable as I should be if you no longer loved me. God, how -sorely I need pity! - -I have just obeyed your wishes by putting all your works away carefully. -As for my own relics of you, I have collected them in an English desk, -under lock and key, and hidden them under my bolster, where they shall -always remain. - -Farewell, the performance of this duty has been a mournful satisfaction -to me. - -_Saturday, 6 p.m., 1834._ - -TO THEE, MY BELOVED. - -You promised that as soon as your work was finished, you would devote -all your time to me; you also said, when you were leaving me yesterday, -that you would come early this morning. Neither of these promises have -you kept; yet I have never longed for your presence and your love more -than at this moment, when anxiety seems to have taken up its abode with -me. I have been so worried that I do not know whether I could endure -another day like this. - -I am thankful to leave this house; it is so haunted by ill-luck and -sadness, that to be quit of it will be a relief. - -My Victor, what is going to become of us? What can we do to avert the -misfortune that threatens us?[62] Can you think of any way out of the -trouble? Do you love me? I love you so! in prosperity, and still more in -adversity. Oh, God be merciful to me! Without your help I am done. - -JULIETTE. - -I have no other refuge or I should not go to Madame K. I cannot wander -about alone, for that would make you anxious; yet I cannot stay here, I -am too miserable. I will wait for you at Madame K.'s house until nine -o'clock. I hardly know what I am writing, or have written. My reason and -will are in abeyance this morning. - -I write because I am wretched, because I must make moan to someone or -something. I write because I shall soon be dead. These lines will be the -cold remains of my soul and thoughts and love, as my body will be the -corpse of my warm flesh and blood. - -I write to declare my faith, to obtain pardon of my sins, to weep, -because my tears strangle me and will put an end to me. - -I shall be in the street to-night. I shall remain there as long as my -strength holds out, without hope, but still, near you.... - - -_Midnight, Saturday, August 2nd, 1834._ - -TO VICTOR. - -Farewell for ever. You have decreed it thus. Farewell then, and may you -be as happy and admired as I shall be hapless and forlorn. - -Farewell! This word comprises my whole life, and joy, and happiness. - -JULIETTE. - - -I am going away with my child. I am just going out to fetch her and take -our places. The Comedie Francaise management has no claim on my services -until it has assigned me my parts. My maid has orders to open my -letters. If there should be one from the Comedie Francaise she would let -me know at once and everything could be arranged. I need not, therefore, -worry about it at present. - - -(1834.) - -MADEMOISELLE MARIE, -C/O MADAME DROUET, -No. 4 bis, Rue de Paradis au Marais, Paris. - -Enclosed is a letter for Monsieur Victor Hugo. If he should not come to -the house, try and manage to let him know that there is one awaiting him -at No. 4, Rue de Paradis au Marais, from Madame Kraftt. If he is still -in Paris I expect he will understand what you mean, and will either send -for it or fetch it himself. In any case, write to me by every post and -tell me about Monsieur Victor Hugo: whether you have seen him, what he -has said to you, whether he is still in Paris, or whether he has left; -in fact, tell me everything you can find out concerning him. - -I am writing from Rennes, where I arrived very ill, with my child. I -hope, however, to be able to leave to-morrow and go to my sister. Write -to me there and address thus: - -MADAME DROUET, -C/O M. LOUIS KOCK, -Saint Renan, -By Brest. - -Please take good care of the house. - -J. DROUET. - - - (ENCLOSURE) - -RENNES, -_2.30 p.m., Monday (1834)._ - -MY DEAR VICTOR, - -I am writing this letter on the chance of its reaching you, but with the -sad premonition that you will never read it. - -My beloved, I love you more than ever. I cannot do without you. I would -willingly die for you, but I cannot consent to accept a devotion which -might endanger your health and your life. I was forced to fly from you. -It cost me much to resist your supplications and your wrathful glances. -I suffered frightfully; and now, alas, I know that, were you with me, I -could no longer withstand either your gentle pleading or your terrible -anger. I am very wretched. I love and bless you. Be happy! - -JULIETTE. - - -One portion of your curse has already come to pass. My soul and body -have suffered severely. In addition, I have been harried to death by the -idiotic authorities, who are suspicious of every woman without a -passport. I have been at Rennes about half an hour. It is half-past two. -I leave again for Brest to-morrow morning at four o'clock; I expect to -arrive on Thursday at five in the evening. My Victor, I love you. I -could do anything for you. Have pity upon me. I love you better than -anything in life. - - -_August 5th, 1834._ - -MADEMOISELLE MARIE, -Care of MADAME DROUET, -No. 4 bis, Rue de Paradis au Marais, Paris. - -Here is another letter for Monsieur Victor Hugo. Try to get it to him. -If he is in the country near Paris, let him know that there is something -at my house in the name of Madame Kraftt that will interest him. - -I have spent a sad and sleepless night. I am afraid of falling really -ill. Answer this at once. - -J. DROUET. - - - (ENCLOSURE) - -RENNES, -_4 a.m., August 5th (1834)._ - -Victor, I love you. Victor, I shall die of this separation. I need you, -to be able to live. Since I told you everything, since the moment when -my eyes could no longer rest upon yours, I have felt as if all my veins -were being opened, and my life's blood slowly drained away. I feel -myself dying, and I know that I love you the better for every pang. My -Victor, can you forgive me? Do you still love me? Is it really true that -you hate me, that I am odious in your sight, that you despise me, that -you would grind my face to the pavement if I pressed my lips to your -feet, pleading for forgiveness? Oh, if you still love me, if you still -respect me, if you can forgive everything, only tell me so, and I will -do all you wish! Everything, I swear! Will you take me back? - -I am very ill. - -J. - - -_3 a.m. (1834)._ - -FOR MY VICTOR. - -While I was expecting to see you I could not sleep. Now that the hope is -dead I still cannot sleep because I am unhappy. I grieve not to have -seen you; I grieve because I was cross and ill-tempered when you were -gentle and charming. I rehearse in imagination all the incidents of the -evening, and the pain at my heart grows unbearable. It is wicked of me -to torment you, yet I cannot help myself. My offence goes by the name of -"jealousy." Much as I dread displeasing you, I yet cannot avoid giving -way to that hideous passion. I make you miserable when I should like to -saturate you with happiness. Oh, it is horribly wrong of me! I am much -to be pitied, for I am jealous, and of whom? The most beautiful, the -most gentle, the most perfect of women ... your wife! Heaven forgive me! -My torment is surely sufficient expiation for my fault! - -God, how I love you! how I love my Victor! All is contained in these -words. You do forgive me, do you not? and you love me as much as ever? I -hope so ... else, I should prefer to die. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 3 p.m. (1834)._ - -I have abandoned hope ... yet love remains. I no longer believe that any -happiness is possible for me in the future, but _you_ I love more every -day; better than the first day, better than yesterday, better than this -morning, better than a moment ago; and still I am not happy. - -[Illustration: A PAGE OF JULIETTE DROUET'S NOTE-BOOK IN 1834. - -The note-book belongs to M. Louis Barthou.] - -You remember what I used to say to you when _Marie Tudor_ was in -rehearsal? "Those wretches have robbed me of my self-confidence; I dare -not, cannot rehearse any more; I feel paralysed." - -To-day, it is not a theatrical part that is in question--it is my life. -Now that calumny has crushed me, now that my mode of life has been -condemned without my having a chance of self-defence, now that my health -and reason have been expended in this struggle without profit or glory, -now that I have been held up before the public as a woman without a -future, I dare not, cannot live longer ... this is absolutely true ... I -dare not live. This fear has brought me to the verge of suicide ... a -peculiar suicide. I do not propose to kill myself like other people. I -mean to sever myself from you, and, to me, such a severance signifies -death. Death certainly. I have already made one experiment of the kind, -therefore I am sure. - -I am confirmed in this project by the reflection that you will thereby -be restored to liberty; that you will be free to direct your life and -your genius in the way best suited to your happiness; that I shall no -longer be an obstacle in your path, but an object of pity and -indulgence--pity for what I shall suffer, indulgence and forgiveness for -such of my faults as have made you suffer. - -If the excess of my love and grief should bring me back to your side, do -not notice me ... shut your eyes, stop your ears, remain in your own -house ... thus you may learn to forget, while I ... I ... shall die. I -shall not suffer long. I shall soon be at rest. - -It is raining hard at this moment, and I am in a raging fever. No -matter, I shall go out. I do not know whether you propose coming to -fetch me. If you do not, I cannot tell what time I shall return home. I -don't care, I am mad! I am in torture such as I have never yet endured! -yet I love you even more than I suffer. My love dominates my whole -being. I love you! - -JULIETTE. - - -5.30 (1834). - -You wish me to write to you in your absence. I am always unwilling to -accede to this desire, for when we are separated, my thoughts are so sad -and painful that I should prefer to hide them from you if possible. - -You see, my Victor, this sedentary, solitary life is killing me. I wear -my soul out with longing. My days are spent in a room twelve feet -square. What I desire is not the world, not empty pleasures, but -_liberty_--_liberty_ to act, liberty to employ my time and strength in -household duties. What I want is a respite from suffering, for I endure -a thousand deaths every moment. I ask for life--life like yours, like -other people's. If you cannot understand this, and if I seem foolish or -unjust in your eyes, leave me, do not worry about me any more. I hardly -know what I am writing; my eyes are inflamed, my heart heavy. I want -air, I am suffocating! Oh, Heaven, have pity upon me! What have I done -to deserve such wretchedness? I love you, I adore you, my Victor; have -pity upon me. Kill me with one blow, but do not let me suffer as many -eternities as there are minutes in every one of your absences. - -What am I saying? I am delirious, feverish. Oh God, have mercy on me! - -JULIETTE. - - -_November 4th, 8.30 p.m. (1834)._ - -Yes, you are my support, the stable earth beneath my feet, my hope, my -joy, my happiness, my all! I do not know how these halting words of mine -can be expected to convey my thoughts to your mind, but this indeed is -truly and sincerely meant: that you are to me the noblest, most sincere, -most generous of men. I believe this, and have absolute confidence in -your power to frustrate the evil fate which holds me in its grip. - -My dearly beloved, you were quite charming just now, and you are -perfectly right when you say that there is an element of vanity in your -nobility of conduct; for nothing could be more becoming than the elegant -and dignified manner in which you raised me just now from my knees. You -were really great. You were a king! - -My darling little Toto, _cheri!_ I am going to bed now, because I am not -certain that you will come early enough to take me out; and, after all, -you are not the sort of man to be scandalised by finding a woman in bed, -especially ... - -JULIETTE. - - -1834. - -MY DEARLY BELOVED, - -I am always wishing I were a great actress, because, if my soul and -intellect were equal to yours, another link would be forged between us; -but I wish it still more at such a time as this, for I should then be -able to relieve you of the annoyance of being at the mercy of an old -woman, whose conceit has made her aggressive.[63] - -I need not finish this letter, for here you are! - - -1835. - -It is long after 11 o'clock. I am no longer expecting you for a walk, -but I still hope to see you this evening. I write you these few lines as -an apology for the disappointment I feel each time you fail me. I am -miserable, but not angry; I shed tears, but do not reproach you; I am -often much to be pitied, but I never cease loving you to distraction. If -only you would believe this, I think I could bear my invidious position -with more resignation. I am afraid you misapprehend my love, and this -anxiety often makes the days seem long and sad. - -But I must not forget that you are working and worn out, and that you -have neither strength nor leisure to listen, that is to say, to read of -my worries. - - -11.30 _p.m._ - -Here you are! I am finishing this letter more untidily even than usual. -Luckily one's character, and, more important still, one's heart, are not -exclusively interpreted by one's handwriting. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 3.15 p.m._ (1835). - -MY POOR, DEAR, BELOVED TOTO, - -When I see you so preoccupied with important business I am ashamed to -add to your fatigues by the reiteration of my devotion, which you -already know by heart. Did I not fear that you would misunderstand my -silence, I should put an end to these letters, which, after all, are -only a cold skeleton, a dull narrative of the generous, tender, -passionate feelings which fill my heart. I should stop them, I say, -until after the production of your play, reserving to myself the -privilege of taking my revenge afterwards by multiplying my words and -caresses. This is what I should do if you felt only a quarter as much -solicitude for your dear little person as I do. - -It is nearly three o'clock. I hope by this time everything has gone off -well at rehearsal. It is high time, my admired, beloved, adored poet, -you left that wretched den they call the Theatre Francais. You will -leave it with full credit to yourself, notwithstanding the ill-will of -that jealous old wretch, and the stupidity, hatred, and malice of the -cabal against you. - -You will see, my splendid lion, whether those hideous crows will dare -croak in face of your roaring. As for me, if anything could make me -prouder and happier, it would be that I alone understand you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 1.30 p.m., April 11th (1835)._ - -Why were you so smart just now? It makes me dreadfully anxious, -especially in conjunction with your early morning walks to the Arsenal. -Toto ... Toto ... you do not know what I am capable of; take care! I do -not love you for nothing. If you deceived me the least bit in the world -I should kill you. But no, seriously, I am jealous when I see you so -fascinating. I do not feel as reassured as you would wish me to be. In -fact, I insist upon attending these rehearsals. I do not choose to -confide my dear lover to the discretion of nobody knows who. I wish to -keep my lover to myself, in the face of the nation and of all French -actresses. - -That is my politic and literary resolve: I shall put it into execution, -from to-morrow. - -By the way, this is my birthday. You did not even know it--or, rather, I -dare say you do not care whether I was ever born or not. Is it true that -you do not mind one little bit? That is all the importance you attach to -my love! And yet one thing is very certain: that I was created and put -into the world solely to love you, and God knows with what ardour I -fulfil my mission. - -I love you--ah, yes, indeed, I love you--I love my Victor! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 p.m. (1835)._ - -I am more than ever resolved to separate our lives one from the other. -What you say about Mlle. Mars's increasing age and the impossibility of -obtaining a double success through her, literary as well as financial, -and about the necessity of securing the services of Madame Dorval or -some equally handsome and celebrated actress, makes me determined to -sever our connection as speedily as possible, no matter where I may have -to go, or under what pecuniary conditions. Your words to-night prove -that you have had private intelligence about Mlle. Mars, Madame Dorval, -and the theatre generally, that you have concealed from me, although it -must completely revolutionise the plans made by you for the first play -you were to give at this theatre. The secrecy you have maintained on the -subject, contrary to all your promises to conceal nothing from me, -grieves me more than the treachery of Monsieur Harel and Mlle. George, -more even than the wicked animosity of your enemies and the perfidy of -your intimate friends against myself. This silence is proof positive -that I am a hindrance to your interests; you dread my ambition and my -jealousy; you had already seen the propriety of giving a part to Madame -Dorval, but you did not dare tell me so, for fear of encountering -resistance and tears from me at this new distribution. You have only -partially averted these. I will not attempt to thwart you, on the -contrary; as for my tears, they are not worth wiping away, nor even -restraining.[64] From this very night we cease our communion of dramatic -interests. I go back to the position I ought never to have left: that of -a hack actress, who is given any part, and badly paid at that. You -resume your liberty without any impediment. - -Let us hope this new resolution will conduce to our greater happiness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, April 28th, 1835. -Four hours before the production of "Angelo."_ - -This is just to remind you of my love, and that it will only be purified -and augmented by the ill-luck and perfidy to which you are more exposed -than others, my noble poet, my king--king, indeed, of us all, though -lover only of me: is that not so? I have nothing to fear from you, have -I, my darling? You will take care of yourself and resist the advances of -that shameless woman. Promise me this. I would not allude to it to-day, -only I feel so uneasy at the thought of your spending the whole evening -in her society, that I would give my life to prevent it. If you -understood the greatness and quality of my love, you would appreciate my -alarm. - -Think of poor me, sitting at the back of a box to-night, enduring all -the anguish of jealousy and love. - -JULIETTE. - -Madame Pierceau came at one o'clock, leaving Monsieur Verdier in a cab -below. He was desperate at the loss of his stall, which, he hears, was -taken from him by your orders. As I did not know what to say about it, I -advised Madame Pierceau to send him to you. Monsieur Pasquier, as I -anticipated, has not taken Madame Recamier's box. I wonder what you have -done with it. Did it reach you in time? - - -_Midnight, Tuesday, April 28th, 1835. -An hour after the triumph of "Angelo."_ - -My cup is full. Bravo! bravo!! bravo!!! bravo!!!! bravo!!!!! For the -first time I have been able to applaud you as much as I wished, for you -were not there to prevent it. - -Thank you, my beloved! Thank you for myself, whose happiness you -increase with every second of my life, and thank you also for the crowd -that was there, admiring, listening, and appreciating you. - -[Illustration: AUTOGRAPH LETTER FROM JULIETTE DROUET TO HER DAUGHTER -CLAIRE.] - -[Illustration: AUTOGRAPH LETTER FROM JULIETTE DROUET TO HER DAUGHTER -CLAIRE (_continued_).] - -I saw and heard everything, and will tell you all about it; although if -the applause, enthusiasm, and delirium could be measured by sheer -weight, my load would indeed be heavy. I will give you full details of -the performance, to-morrow, for I dare not hope to see you to-night; it -would be too much happiness for one day, and you do not want me to go -mad with joy! - -Till to-morrow, then. If you knew how conscientiously I clapped Madame -Dorval, you would hesitate to say or do anything to add to the soreness -I already feel at the thought that another than I has been selected to -interpret your noble sentiments. There, now I am giving way to sadness -again, because you are with that woman! - -Good-night, my beloved. Sleep well, my poet, if the sound of the great -chorus of praise does not prevent it. To your laurels I add my tender -caresses and thousands of kisses. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 8 p.m. (1835)._ - -If I were a clever woman, my gorgeous bird, I could describe to you how -you unite in yourself the beauties of form, plumage, and song! I would -tell you that you are the greatest marvel of all ages, and I should only -be speaking the simple truth. But to put all this into suitable words, -my superb one, I should require a voice far more harmonious than that -which is bestowed upon my species--for I am the humble owl that you -mocked at only lately. Therefore, it cannot be. I will not tell you to -what degree you are dazzling and resplendent. I leave that to the birds -of sweet song who, as you know, are none the less beautiful and -appreciative. - -I am content to delegate to them the duty of watching, listening and -admiring, while to myself I reserve the right of loving; this may be -less attractive to the ear, but it is sweeter far to the heart. I love -you, I love you, my Victor; I cannot reiterate it too often; I can never -express it as much as I feel it. - -I recognise _you_ in all the beauty that surrounds me--in form, in -colour, in perfume, in harmonious sound: all of these mean _you_ to me. -You are superior to them all. You are not only the solar spectrum with -the seven luminous colours, but the sun himself, that illumines, warms, -and revivifies the whole world! That is what you are, and I am the lowly -woman who adores you. - -JULIETTE. - - -If you are coming to fetch me, as you led me to expect, I shall see you -very soon now. I have never longed more ardently for you. Lanvin has -just come. I will tell you about it when I see you. - - -_Thursday, 7.30 p.m. (1835)._ - -TO MY DEAR ABSENT ONE. - -I hardly saw you this morning. I have not seen you this evening, and God -knows what time it will be before you come to take me to _Angelo_--for I -do not admit the possibility of a single performance taking place -without my presence: besides, I am not sorry to know exactly how much -time you spend with these actresses of the sixteenth century, and those -of the nineteenth, who are no less dangerous. There, I am nearly as -cross as I am sad. I had vowed I would not write at length to-day, just -to teach you not to throw my letters aside without reading them. -Myself, my letters, forgotten! You certainly manage to be the most -worshipped and the least attentive of lovers. Oh, you do not care! - -Never mind, I am sad. I am longing for you to-night, as the poor -prisoner hungers for his pittance at the hour he is accustomed to -receive it. - -But you are indifferent--you can calmly let my soul die of inanition--do -you not love me, then? Tell me! - -Well, I love _you_. I love you my Victor. I forgive you, because I hope -it is not your fault, and also, because I cannot prevent myself from -loving you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 8 p.m., 1835._ - -You hurt me a little bit just now, my Toto. While I was sacrificing the -happiness of being with you one moment longer, to your need of repose, -you were worrying about trifles, and not giving me a thought or a -farewell. In moments like these I am forced to realise that you do not -care for me as I care for you, and I feel wretched in consequence. - -Another thing I have observed is that you never allude to my letters. -You neither notice the complaints I make nor the love I shower upon you -with every word. You have turned my happiness and content into sadness. -My Toto, _you do not love me as I love you_. You have exhausted your -faculty of loving. I tell myself that the enthusiastic and passionate -devotion you once cherished for me has degenerated into mere -partiality--then I mourn and mope, like a woman betrayed. - -If you knew how I love you, my Toto, you would understand the anguish of -my eagerness, you would pity me, and, instead of leaving my letters -unanswered, you would fly to me the moment you have read them, to -reassure and comfort me if my fears are unfounded. - -Never mind, I give you a thousand kisses. How many will you waste? - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 12.30 p.m. (1835)._ - -MY DEAR LITTLE TOTO, - -You have written me a very charming letter. I cannot send you one as -fascinating; all I can do is to give you my whole heart and thoughts and -life. - -You are quite right when you say that I shall soon give myself to you -again, regardless of the sorrows that may follow. It is true, for I -could sooner dispense with life than with your love. - -But let me tell you again the joy, surprise, and happiness, your letter -caused me. You are better than I, and you are right when you think me an -old idiot. I am in the seventh heaven this morning. You have never given -me so much happiness, my dear little Toto. I am so grateful! I cannot -love you more in return, for that were impossible; but I can appreciate -in a higher degree your worth and the depth of your affection for me. - -You are my dear little man, my lover, my god, my adored tyrant! I love -you, adore you, think of you, desire you, call upon you! - -JULIETTE. - -Which do you like best, quality or quantity? - - -_Monday, 8.20 p.m. (1835)._ - -I adore your jealousy when it gives me the pleasure of seeing you at an -unaccustomed hour; but when it simply consists in suspecting me without -advantage to ourselves, oh, how I detest it! - -You were rather cross to-day, but you atoned so amply by coming as you -did, that I would willingly see you a little bit unjust to me every day, -if it entailed the pleasure of having you one minute longer in the -evening. - -If you only knew how true it is that I love you, you could never be -jealous, or admit the possibility of my being unfaithful to you; and -again, if you knew how much I love you, you would come every moment of -the day and of the night, to surprise me in that occupation, and you -would ever be welcomed with transports of joy. - -Yes, yes, I love you! I do not say so to force you to believe it, but -because I crave to repeat it with every breath, with every word, in -every tone. I adore you much more than you can ever wish. I love you -above all things. - -JULIETTE. - -You attach too little importance to my letters as a rule. You forget -that fine unguents are contained in small boxes, great love in trivial -words. - - -_Friday, 2 p.m. (1835)._ - -You want a huge long letter ... and yet another huge long letter ... you -are not very modest in your requirements. What would you say if I asked -as much?--you, who write to every one in the world except me. I have a -great mind to treat you according to your deserts, and write only as -much as you write, love you only as much as you love me. You would be -nicely punished if I did this. But do not fear; I should never play you -such a scurvy trick. I am too much in need of an outlet for the -superabundance of my heart, to venture to close the issue. I am too -anxious to tell you every day how much I adore you, to condemn myself to -silence. I long too much to get near you, in thought at all events, to -afford to cut off the way of communication. Now that you know why I -write so often, I will begin my letter. - -My dear little Toto, although it is not long since I left you, I desire -you with all the impatience and all the inclination that comes of a long -separation. I should like to know where you are and what you are doing. -I should like to be wherever you are, and, above all, I should like to -be in your heart and thoughts, as you are in mine. I should like to be -you and you me, in respect of love. The rest becomes you and you only. -You are admired; I need to be loved. Are you capable, I ask you, of -loving me as much as I love you, or half as much? even that would be -immeasurable. If you only knew the extent of my love, you would treasure -me, only for that. - -I love you, love you, love you, love you, love you! - -This short little word, issuing from my heart, has impetus enough to -mount right up to the heavens. I love you! - -JULIETTE. - -I have received a letter from my daughter. This, combined with the -horrible weather, makes me quite happy. - - -_Friday, 9 p.m. (1835)._ - -You gave me a delicious afternoon. How delightfully you talked! I am not -alluding to your wit; a fly does not seek to raise an ingot of gold! -Neither do I speak of the happiness of leaning upon your arm, listening -to your voice, gazing into your eyes, breathing your breath, measuring -my steps by yours, feeling my heart beat in unison with yours. - -There can be no happiness greater than that I enjoyed this afternoon -with you, clasped in your arms, your voice mingling with mine, your eyes -in mine, your heart upon my heart, our very souls welded together. For -me, there is no man on this earth but you. The others I perceive only -through your love. I enjoy nothing without you. You are the prism -through which the sunshine, the green landscape, and life itself, appear -to me. That is why I am idle, dejected, and indifferent, when you are -not by my side. I do not know how to employ either my body or my soul, -away from you. I only come to life again in your presence. I need your -kisses upon my lips, your love in my soul. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 11 a.m. (1835)._ - -GOOD MORNING, MY VICTOR! - -Let me first kiss you. Of all the promises I made you yesterday, when we -separated, only one has been broken. I promised to love you as I loved -you at that moment--that is to say, more than all the world; but I do -not know how it happened, I have come to love you much more! and I feel -it will be so as long as I shall live. I beg you, my dear little Toto, -to make up your mind to this, as I have already done. - -Do you know, my blessed Toto, you are a second little Tom Thumb, far -more marvellous than your prototype; for, not merely with pebbles or -crumbs of bread do you mark the roads along which you travel, but -actually with jewels and precious stones. I shall always recognise the -spot where you dropped an enormous ruby as big as a flint, yesterday, -with as much indifference as if it had been a piece of grit from -Fontainebleau. - -What do you suppose must happen to an insignificant creature like myself -in the presence of so much wealth, in the midst of the enchantments of -your mind? Will she lose her reason? That is already done. As to her -heart, you stole it from her very easily, and therefore nothing remains -to the poor wight but what is already yours. - -Her love, her admiration, her life, belong to you! My glances, words, -caresses, kisses, all, are yours! - -JULIETTE. - - -(1835.) - -It seems to be always my turn to write to you now. In the old days your -letters called forth my letters, your love mine--and it was meet that it -should be so, for, as you have often said, the man should be the pursuer -of the woman. It is always awkward when a change of _roles_ occurs, and -I am acutely conscious of it. I feel that a caress from you gives me far -more happiness and security than thousands of those elicited by me. - -It is already half-past eleven and you have not arrived. Perhaps you are -not coming, and the prohibition you laid upon me yesterday against -seeking you at the printing works redoubles my anxiety and jealousy. I -fear lest some untoward thing may have befallen you, or, worse still, -some agreeable invitation reached you. My heart is crushed as in a vice; -I think there is no greater suffering in this world than that of loving -yet fearing. We arrange our lives very badly. Since you are not a free -agent, and may be prevented from seeing me by thousands of circumstances -we cannot foresee, you should at least allow me the opportunity of -knowing what you are doing and where you are. It would satisfy me and -keep me content. Instead of this, I have to wait for you, a prey to -fears that tear at my heartstrings. Alas, I am to be pitied for loving -you so intensely. It is a superabundance that will surely kill the body -which bears it. - -If you love me only moderately, I pray God to deprive me of one of two -things: either my life, or my love. - -JULIETTE. - -Nearly midnight. What a night I have before me! God pity me! - - -AT METZ, -_September 17th, Thursday, 8.15 a.m., 1835._ - -Good-morning, my Toto, good morning. It is magnificently fine, and we -are going to be enormously happy. We are about to resume our bird-life, -our life of love and freedom in the woods. I am enchanted. If only you -were here, I should kiss you with all my might and main, as a reminder. - -What sort of a night did you have? Did you love me? Have you been -writing to me under the old chestnut-tree? I am sure you have not. You -scamp, I am afraid I go on loving you in proportion to the decrease of -your affection. - -I was not able to read last night. I went to bed at a quarter past ten, -and had horrid dreams. I trust they will not come true, but I confess I -should be glad to get news of my poor little girl, whom we neglect far -too much. If two more days go by without a letter, I shall write to -Saumur, for I am really worried about her. - -My dear little Toto, I am going to dress now, so as to get to you -earlier. I love you, I love you with all my strength and all my soul. I -kiss you! I adore you! Till this afternoon. - -Your JULIETTE. - - -AT METZ, -_September 24th, Thursday, 8.45 a.m._ - -Good-morning, my darling Victor. I love you and am happy, for we are -going to be more absolutely together than was possible yesterday, or the -day before, when an inconvenient third disturbed our privacy. Also the -weather is glorious, and I am madly in love with you; so everything -around me glows radiant and beautiful. - -I stayed in bed until 8.30, although I woke up at seven o'clock; but I -just rolled lazily about, thinking of you, and reading yesterday's -newspapers. I reached home exactly at seven o'clock last night, -undressed, tidied my things, dined, wrote to you, did my accounts, and -read _Claude Gueux_ till half-past ten. Then I put my hair into -curl-papers, and got into bed at eleven o'clock. I went to you in -spirit, and dreamt that I was kissing Baby Toto, and making big Toto -jealous. This is the complete history of my morning up to date; now I -shall dress, breakfast, and go for a walk in the meadows with the maid. -Farewell, dearest, until this afternoon's happiness. Always yours in -love and longing. - -I love you with all my heart, I embrace you in spirit, I adore you with -my whole soul, I admire you with every faculty of my mind. Think of me, -come to me, come to me as soon as possible. My arms, my cheek, my whole -being, await you. - -J. - - -AT METZ, -_Thursday, 8.45 p.m._ - -MY DEAR, GOOD TOTO, - -I should have got back without adventure, had I not met an enormous and -horrific toad in the road, which sent me flying home, shrieking as if -the devil was at my heels. I was here by ten minutes past seven, began -my dinner at five minutes past eight, and am now sitting writing to you, -to thank you for all the bliss you lavish upon me. This day, drenched -with rain though it was, has been one of the most beautiful and happiest -of my whole life. If there had been rainbows in the sky, they would be -reflected in our hearts, linking our souls together in thought and -emotion. - -I thank you for drawing my attention to so many lovely things I should -never notice without your assistance and the touch of your dear white -hand upon my brow; but there is one beauty greater and nobler than all -the combined ones of heaven and earth, for the recognition of which I -require no help--and that is yourself, my best beloved, your personality -that I adore, your intellect that enchants and dazzles me. Would that I -possessed the pen of a poet, to describe all I think and feel! But, -alas, I am only a poor woman in love, and such a condition is not -conducive to brilliancy of expression! - -Good-night, my adored one; good-night, my darling. Sleep well. I send -you a thousand kisses. - -J. - - -METZ, -_Monday, 11.5 a.m., September 24th, 1835._ - -Great indeed was our misfortune yesterday! I agree with you in that, my -Victor, because I love you. For over a year I have suffered much; -oftener than not, without complaint. I always trusted that my love and -fidelity would engender in you feelings of esteem and confidence, but -now that hope is for ever at an end; for, far from diminishing, your -suspicion and contempt have grown to terrible dimensions. You love me, I -know, and I worship you with all the strength of my being. _You are the -only man I have ever loved, the only one to whom I have ever given this -assurance._ Yet I now implore you on my knees to let me go. I cannot -urge this too strongly. You see, my dear, I am so wretched, so -humiliated, and I suffer so acutely, that I shall have to leave you, -even against your will; so it would be kinder of you to give your -consent, that I may at least have the sad satisfaction, if I must -forsake you, of knowing that I have not disobeyed you. - -Farewell, my joy; farewell, my life; farewell, my soul! I leave you, -for the very sake of our love--I offer this sacrifice on behalf of us -both. Later, you will understand. But before bidding you a last -good-bye, I swear to you that, during the last year, I have not -committed one single action I need blush for, nor harboured one guilty -thought. I tell you this from the bottom of my heart. You may believe -it. - -I shall go to my child, for I am anxious about her since she has been at -Saumur. Perhaps I may bring her back with me. I think I was very wrong -to send her away. I mean to repair my fault if there is yet time. The -pretext of her health will be sufficient before the world. My heart -shall be dumb upon all that concerns you. I will keep everything to -myself. I must get work. If you can do anything to help me find some, it -will be good of you. I mention this for the first and last time, for, if -you were to forget me, you know very well that I should be the last to -venture to recall myself to you. - -Good-bye again, my friend; good-bye, for ever! I have been copying your -little book, hoping you would be generous enough to leave it with me. -Good-bye! good-bye! Do not suffer, do not weep, do not think, do not -accuse yourself! I love and forgive you. - -JULIETTE. - - -METZ, -_Saturday, 7.30 p.m. (October 1835)._ - -You were in a great hurry to leave me to-night, my best-beloved. If -consideration for me was your motive, it was high-handed and blundering -of you, for I never enjoyed myself more than this evening, and, until -the moment you left me so abruptly, I had never so savoured the -happiness of being with you in the highways and byways. - -I therefore returned home sadly and thoughtfully. I have begun my letter -to-night with diminished joy and confidence in the future, for your -hurry to leave me weighs upon me, and I cannot explain it satisfactorily -to myself. - -I came in at a quarter past six, suffering greatly from indigestion. The -maid told me some one had called for the dog--two gentlemen, who seemed -much attached to it. Poor brute, it was a wrong instinct that led it to -follow us. I have no doubt it is expiating its offence in hunger and -cold at this very moment. I am somehow unduly interested in the fate of -the poor thing. I feel something beyond ordinary pity for it; it makes -me think of the fate and future in store for a poor girl we both know. -She also follows step by step a master who will have no scruple in -casting her adrift when his duty to society proves as pressing and -sacred as that which called him away to-night. - -I am depressed, my dear friend, and unwell. The oppression on my chest -is increasing. I hope your sore throat will diminish in proportion to -what I am enduring. Providence is too just to allow such cumulation of -suffering. Good-night--sleep well and think of me if you can. As for -loving me, that is another question; one's emotions cannot grow to -order. I love you. - -J. - -_Sunday, 8 p.m., 1835._ - -My dear darling, I cannot describe to you the rapture with which I -listened to the two sublime poems you recited to me, one on the first -Revolution and the other on the two Napoleons. - -But where can your equal be found on earth!... My dear little Toto, do -not laugh at me. I feel so many things I cannot express, much less -write. I love and revere you, and when I reflect upon what you are, I -marvel! Since you left me, I have read again _Napoleon the Second_. I -shall never tire of it. It is going to bed with me now. - -You told me to wait for you till 9.30; after that hour I shall go to -bed. If you should happen to come later, I will open the door to you -myself, as you have forgotten the key. I want to do so, that I may not -lose one second of the happiness of having you with me. Sleep -well--good-night--do not suffer--do not work--sleep! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 8.30 p.m., 1835._ - -I am half afraid of taking too literally your request for a daily -letter. Tell me seriously how I am to interpret it, so that I may not -make myself ridiculous, by overwhelming you with letters you do not -want. Tell me the truth once for all, so that I may know where I am, and -may give myself up without restraint to the pleasure of telling you, and -writing to you, that I love you with all my heart, and that you alone -constitute my sole joy, my sole happiness, and my sole future. If you -can experience only one quarter of the bliss in reading, that I shall -feel in inditing my scribble, you shall receive some of my prose every -day, but in limited quantities, calculated not to wear out your -patience. - -And, in order to demonstrate my powers of self-restraint, I will limit -myself to six trillions of kisses for your beautiful mouth. Besides, -here you come! I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 8 p.m., December 2nd, 1835._ - -MY BELOVED, - -When one is ill and feverish, everything tastes bitter to the lips and -palate. I am in that position. I am abominably miserable, and all the -sweet words you lavish upon me seem tainted. But I have enough sense -left to realise that it is my condition that prevents me from relishing -the full meed of happiness you are able to give me in one moment. -Forgive me for suffering, and for not having the strength or generosity -to conceal it from you; it is only because I suffer too much, and love -you too much, which is the same thing. - -I promise to be very cheerful to-night, and to disguise my feelings. I -have read everything concerning you in the papers, and I cannot help -suspecting that a passage about you and your work has been purposely cut -out. If this is so, you had much better tell me, for I am quite equal to -bearing the truth, and even to hearing lies; so I beg you to tell me -what was in that newspaper, and thus spare me the trouble of procuring -another copy. You must indeed be happy and proud on behalf of the person -to whom you are supposed to have dedicated your sublime poem. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO.] - -The article by Monsieur F. Dugue seems singularly well-informed about -your restoration to the _domestic hearth_. I am apparently not the only -one who notices that for the last year you have been changing your -habits and feelings, though I am probably the only one who will die of -grief in consequence--but what matter, so long as the domestic hearth -remains _cheerful_ and the _family_, _happy_. - -I hope you will do your best to come and see me to-morrow, during the -intervals of the performance unless the salutations you have to make, -and the compliments and admiration you must acknowledge should detain -you against your will; in which case I hope I may be brave enough not to -worry about such a trifle, and reasonable enough not to let the -magnitude of my love depend upon so slight a pleasure. - -You see, my dear angel, I bow to the arguments you impress on me. I am -no longer sad, neither do I suffer. I love you; that is the truest word -of all. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 8.45 p.m., December 15th, 1835._ - -Of course, my darling, you did right to come back, whatever your reason -might be; but the pleasure of your visit was quite spoilt by your -inquiry as to how I spend my time, when it is self-evident that my -conduct is irreproachable. - -It may surprise you that I should have borne the inquisition you -habitually subject me to, with less equanimity to-day than usual. I own, -my poor angel, that I do not know why it should be so. Perhaps I am like -the cripple, who feels pain in the leg which has been cut off, long -after he has lost it. I often suffer over my past life, though the -present is so widely different. I suffer, not from variations of -temperature, but from the variations of your love, which seems to grow -daily colder and more gloomy. If I am mistaken, forgive and pity me; but -if, as I fear, I make no error, tell me so frankly, and I shall be -grateful for your sincerity. You see, my poor friend, I cannot believe -that your jealousy is other than an insulting mistrust of us both. I -have watched you carefully for the last six months, and I can see quite -well that, although your love is gradually waning, your supervision -becomes ever more active and more fidgety. If I were absolutely sure of -what I suspect, I should not say this to you--I should go away at once, -and you would never hear of me again; but if by chance I were wrong, and -you still care for me, such a course would entail frightful sorrow upon -us both. Therefore I remain, preferring to incur your hatred and -contempt, rather than run the risk of grieving you. - -There, my poor angel, is the attitude of mind and heart in which you -found me this evening; it will explain why I received your question so -badly, although I was grateful for your presence. You see, my head and -heart are weary. If you are not careful, some calamity, resulting from -this condition, will overtake and crush you, at a moment when neither -you nor I will be able to prevent it. I give you this warning in all -sincerity, but with the intimate conviction that it will not affect you. -As long as you feel I belong to you wholly and entirely, you are as -indifferent to my sufferings as to my happiness. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 8.30, February 3rd, 1836._ - -If I have grieved you, my beloved, I beg you to forgive me, for I know -your position is awkward and demands much consideration, especially from -me. Besides, why should I complain of my mode of life more to-day, than -yesterday? I accept my position without regret; therefore there is no -reason for questioning an arrangement which only you can alter. - -I cannot help noticing that your love is not what it was. I may say I am -sure of it, if I may judge by the impatient words you occasionally -utter, half against your will, and by other signs it would take too long -to commit to paper. I certainly possess a _devoted_ Victor, but no -longer the _lover_ Victor of former days. If it is as I fear, it becomes -your duty to leave me at once; for I have never wished to live with you -otherwise than as an adored mistress--certainly not as a woman dependent -upon a man whose passion is spent. I want no pension. I demand my place -in your heart, apart from any feeling of duty or gratitude. That is what -I desire, as earnestly as I long to be a faithful woman, submissive to -your every whim, whether just or unjust. - -If I have hurt your feelings, my dearly beloved, I plead for pardon from -the bottom of my heart. If you have to acknowledge a decrease in your -love, be brave enough to do so frankly, and do not leave to me the -frightful task of guessing it; but if you care for me as much as ever, -say it again and again, for I doubt it, alas, and, in love, doubt is -more painful a thousand times than the most heartbreaking certainty. -Farewell, I worship you. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 8.15 p.m., February 17th, 1836._ - -You must think me either very cruel or very blind, my beloved. I think, -perhaps, it would be best for you to accept the latter hypothesis. I -love you, which means that I am jealous; but, as my jealousy is in -proportion to my love, my doubts and frenzy are more vivid, more bitter, -than those of ordinary women, who are only capable of an ordinary -affection. Very well--I am cruel! So be it! I detest every woman upon -whom your glances rest. I feel capable of hating all women, young or -old, plain or handsome, if I suspect that they have dared raise their -eyes to your splendid and noble features. I am jealous of the very -pavement upon which you tread, and the air you breathe. The stars and -sun alone are beyond my jealousy, because their radiance can be eclipsed -by one single flash from your eyes. - -I love you as the lioness loves her mate. I love you as a passionate -woman, ready to yield up her life at your slightest gesture. I love you -with the soul and intelligence God has lent His creatures to enable them -to appreciate exceptional men like yourself. That is why, my glorious -Victor, at one and the same moment, I can rage, weep, crawl, or stand -erect; I bow my head and venerate you! - -There are days when one can fix one's gaze upon the sun itself without -being blinded: thus it is with me now. I see you, I am dazzled, -entranced, and I grasp your beauty in all its splendour. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8 p.m., August 15th, 1836._ - -Since you leave me here all by myself, my beloved, I shall think only of -you, and in proof of this, I will scribble all over this virgin sheet -of white paper. It is barbarous of you to let me grow fatter than I -already am, by leaving me to dawdle at my fireside, instead of taking me -out to walk and get thin. - -I am in love with you, but you do not care a bit. I am very sad not to -have you with me, doubly so, when I think that it is on account of a -play in which I am to have no part, after all the time I have waited and -endured. When I reflect seriously upon this, my despair makes me long to -fly to the uttermost ends of the world. It is so necessary that I should -think of my future. I have wasted so much time waiting, that it almost -spells ruin to me that you should produce a piece in which I may not -play. You see, my dearest, I am not as generous as you thought. I am -afraid I can no longer disguise from you the injury it does me to be -three years out of the theatrical world, while you are bringing out -plays. Forgive me, but I have a horror of poverty, and would do anything -in reason to evade it. I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 8.30 p.m., March 11th, 1836._ - -DEAR LITTLE SOUL, - -You are quite happy, I hope, now that you possess the keys of Paradise. -I had a few more difficulties to encounter after you went away, but they -were of no consequence. Now that our little palace is nearly finished, -my soul, I hope we shall celebrate the event in the usual way; but I -must first rest a little, and nurse myself up, for I am really quite -worn out with the dirt and litter. I am afraid to look at you or touch -you in your beauty and purity and charm, while I am so ugly and untidy -and exhausted that I hardly know myself as your Juju. But it will not -last. My foulness will fall from me, and reveal me dressed, as in the -fairy-tale, in garments of blue, bordered with golden stars, and a -prince will marry me after tasting of my cooking. Splendid! But -meanwhile you must graciously permit me to go on loving you, stains and -all! Shut your eyes to the common lamp that guards the flame. If you -will wait, you shall see that when we reach the heaven above us, I shall -be as resplendent as yourself. Meanwhile, I drop a kiss upon your shoes, -even if it entails your having them blacked again. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 7.45 p.m., March 23rd, 1836._ - -No doubt, dear angel, I ought to disguise in your presence the sadness -that overwhelms me when I have to wait too long for you; but the late -hour at which you generally come, makes it difficult for me to forget -the weary suspense I have already been through, and am to endure again -shortly. I love you, my dear--indeed, I love you too much. We often say -this lightly, but I assure you that this time I state it in full gravity -and knowledge, for I feel it to the very marrow of my bones. I love you. -I am jealous. I hate being poor and devoid of talent, for I fear that -these deficiencies will cost me your love. Still, I am conscious of -something within me, greater than either wealth or intellect; but is it -powerful enough to rivet you to me for ever? I ask myself this question -night and day, and you are not at hand to soothe my unrest; hence the -sadness that wounds you, the jealousy that amazes you, the mental -torment you are incapable of understanding. - -But I love you all the same, and am happy in the midst of my pain. I -smile through my tears, for I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 a.m., March 26th, 1836._ - -Good-morning, my little darling Toto. - -I am up at cock-crow, though very tired; but I want to be ready to -witness your new triumph--for, beloved Toto of mine, you are the _great_ -Toto, the greatest man on earth. - -How I love you, my Victor! I am jealous. Even your success makes me -uneasy with the dread that, amongst so much adulation, you may overlook -the humble homage of your poor Juju. I fear that these universal -acclamations may drown my lowly cry of--_I love you!_ This apprehension -becomes an obsession on such a day as this, when everything is at your -feet, caresses, adoration, frenzy. Ah, why are you not insignificant and -unknown like myself! I should then have no need to fear that the torch -of my love will be eclipsed by that immense illumination. - -Try, beloved, to keep a little place in your heart for the love and -admiration of your poor mistress, who has loved you from the day she -first set eyes upon you, and who will worship you as long as the breath -remains in her body. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 6.15 p.m., March 26th, 1836._ - -Let me tell you once again that I love you, my Victor. Presently, -thousands of voices will be raised in a chorus of _praise_. I alone -say: I _love_ you. You are my joy, the light of my eyes, the treasure of -my life, you are _YOU_. This evening, my adored one, whatever you say or -do, I must be jealous and wretched. Be merciful to me; do not let me -suffer too cruelly. If you think of me when you are absent, I shall be -conscious of it--if you love me, I shall feel it upon my heart like -beneficent balm upon a raw wound. - -Farewell, dear soul; _it is impossible to wish an increase of beauty to -the man, or more glory to the genius; so, if you are happy, so am I_. -Farewell, then, dearest; I cannot refrain from sending a word of love to -the lover, before going to applaud the poet. The heart must have its due -share. - -Good-bye till later. For ever, for life and until death, love, nothing -but love! - -J. - - -Sunday, 7.45 p.m., March 27th, 1836. - -I hardly dare speak to you to-night of love. I feel humiliated by my -devotion, for all those women seem to be rivals, preferred before me. I -suffer, but I do not hold you responsible. I feel worse even than usual -this evening. I did not venture to ask what you had written to Madame -Dorval, for I was afraid to discover some fresh reason for bitterness -and jealousy; so I remained silent. - -My dear treasure, you are very lucky not to be jealous: you have no -competition to fear with any other celebrity, for there is none besides -yourself, and _you_ know that I love you with my whole heart, whereas -all _I_ can be sure of is, that I love you far too much to hope to be -loved in proportion. In addition, I feel I shall never be capable of -raising the heavy stone under which my intellect slumbers. - -Forgive me, I am sad. I am worse than sad--I am ashamed, because I am -jealous. I am an idiot, and consequently, I am in love! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8.30 p.m., April 14th, 1836._ - -I love you, my dear Victor, and you make me very unhappy when you seem -to doubt it. It is still harder for me when you put your want of -confidence into words, for I can only attribute it to the sacrifices you -constantly make for me, and which probably cause you to think that an -ignoble motive constrains me to remain under your protection. In -addition to thus wounding me in the most sensitive part of my love, you -exasperate me to a point I cannot describe, because it is true that I -have not the wherewithal to live independently of you and your -influence. Therefore, my poor angel, when you show your suspicions of my -sincerity, I read into them more than jealousy and ill-will: I imagine a -reproach against my dependent position. I feel an overwhelming need to -prove to you, by any means, that you are mistaken in the woman and her -love. _Remember your burnt letters!_ You know what a doubt on your part -led me to do on one occasion. Well, angel, I tell you honestly that when -you question, not only my fidelity, but also my love, I long to fly to -the other side of the world, there to exist as best I can, and never -pronounce your name again for the rest of my life. This will be the last -proof of love I can give you, and at least you will not be able to -accuse me, then, of self-interest and self-love. You hurt me terribly -to-night; you often do, and generally when I am most tender and -demonstrative towards you. - -Yet I love you. - -J. - - -_Tuesday, 8 p.m., April 19th, 1836._ - -Beloved, I am perfectly certain you will not come to fetch me to see -_Lucrece_, and I am already resigned. There is only one thing I shall -never submit to, and that is, the loss of your love. I know you are -devoted, that you lavish friendship upon me; but I feel that you have no -more love to give me, and I cannot bear it. During the four months I -have been alone, ill for the most part, I never knew whether the time -would come when you would be impelled to say to me: _Take courage, for I -love you_. I would have given life to find those words in your -handwriting at my bedside in the morning, or on my pillow at night. I -waited in vain, they never came; my sorrow grew, and now I am certain -that you have ceased to care for me. - -I know what you will say, Victor--you will tell me that you are hard at -work, that you do everything for me, and do not let me want for -anything. To that I reply that I have been just as busy or busier than -you, yet have always found time to show you the outward signs of my -inward love. I may also tell you that, without your love, I _do_ want -for _everything_, and that my life is utterly wretched without it. -Lastly, I declare to you that if you continue to be so _reasonably_ kind -and attentive, I will release you from your self-imposed burden, at some -moment when you least expect it, and for evermore. I must have true -love or nothing. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 7.45 p.m., May 2nd, 1836._ - -MY DEAR LITTLE BELOVED, - -I am sorry to find that you are not as convinced as I am, of the -propriety of giving me your portrait. - -I confess I feel the greatest disappointment when I realise, from your -daily evasion of my request, that I shall probably never become the -possessor of the picture which is so like you, nor even, perhaps, of a -copy of the original. I am sad and dejected. I think you do not care -enough for me, a poor disinherited creature, to do me the favour you -have already bestowed upon another, who already has her full meed of the -gifts of life. I am therefore greatly disappointed. I had counted upon -having the portrait, and had anticipated much happiness from its -possession. The contemplation of it would have so greatly contributed to -my courage and resignation, that it is very grievous to have to renounce -it thus suddenly, without any compensation. - -If I wanted to speak of other things now, I could not; my heart is -heavy, my eyes overflow with tears. I can only find bitter words for the -expression of my wounded love. - -I love you more to-day than I have ever done before, yet I am not happy. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 7.45 a.m., May 20th, 1836._ - -GOOD MORNING, MY DEAR LITTLE TOTO. - -You failed me again last night, so I shall never count upon you again. I -loved you with all my strength, and thought of you even in my sleep. -This morning I love you with my whole soul, and heartily long for you, -but I know you will not come, so I am cross and sad. - -How fine the weather is, my Toto, and how happy we could be in the fresh -air, on the high road, in a nice little carriage, with a month of -happiness in prospect: it would be Paradise, but ... but ... I dare not -set my heart upon it, for I should go crazy with grief if the treat were -withheld. At all events, I am ready to start; my foot is well again, and -we can set off to-night, or to-morrow morning, at whatever time suits -you. I am quite ready, let us, therefore, seize our chance of the fine -weather. - -My adored one, I am dying to make this expedition.... Do try to get free -at the earliest moment possible. I shall be so happy. I still love you, -ever so much. I need you terribly. My heart is more than ready for the -happiness you will give me during the whole time we shall be together. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 12.45 p.m., July 21st, 1836._ - -Once more I am reduced to writing all that is in my heart, my adored -one. It is but a slender satisfaction after the bliss we have been -enjoying. Nevertheless, we must take life as we find it, and it would be -ungracious of me to complain. A month like the one we have just spent -would compensate for a whole life-time of misfortune and worry. Poor -angel, since you left me I feel lost and alone in the world. You cannot -imagine the utter void, surrounded as you are at this moment by the -affection of charming children and devoted friends, while I am alone -with my love--that is to say alone in space--for my love has no limits. -I seek what consolation I can, by speaking to you, and writing to you. -Your handkerchief, breathing of you, lies by my side, with your adored -name embroidered in the corner. I caress and talk to it, and we -understand each other perfectly. For every kiss I press upon it, it -exhales your sweet aroma; it is as if I scented your very soul. Then I -weep, as one does in a beautiful dream from which one fears to awake. -Heavens, how I love you! You are my life, my joy! I adore you! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 2.15 p.m., September 2nd, 1836._ - -My poor, beloved angel. The nearer the moment approaches, the more I -dread the inevitable parting which must follow the few days of happiness -you have just given me. I long for delay, but I know very well that, -however Providence may interpose in my favour, the day must come when -you will have to go to St. Prix. Lucky for me if it is not to-day. But, -putting aside all considerations of love and Juju, it would really not -be prudent for you to go to the country in this cold, foggy weather; -even this morning, in the warmth and repose of home, you felt a warning -twinge of rheumatism, which prescribes prudence on your part. I fear -your natural desire to kiss Toto on his donkey, and watch the other -little rogues at their holiday occupations, may draw you, in spite of -rain, wind, and the good counsel of your old Juju, to St. Prix. At any -rate, if you do this foolish thing, try to avoid chills, to think of me, -and to come back to my care and caresses as quickly as possible. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 6 p.m., 29th, 1836._ - -You torment me unjustly, as usual, my darling beloved. Yet you ought to -begin to know me, and not suspect my every action, down to the drinking -of a cup of coffee. The awkwardness of my position, the absolute -solitude in which I am compelled to live, and the many insults I have to -tolerate daily from you, exasperate me so, that I feel I would rather go -out of your life, than continue to exist like a woman condemned and -accursed. - -It is your fault that I am so unhappy. Nobody else will ever love you so -well, or be so entirely devoted to you. But one is not bound to put up -with impossibilities, and I cannot live longer under a yoke which you -make more crushing every day. What am I to do, beloved? Run away from -you? I have scarcely enough money for my quiet Paris _routine_. Remain -here? If you have not the courage to abstain from visiting me, I -certainly shall never have enough to prevent you from coming. - -The wound in my heart is raw and bleeding, thanks to the care you take -to keep it in that condition. The slightest additional twinge becomes -unbearable torture. I do not know what moral operation I would not -consent to, to be cured of it. - -For the last three years you have really given me too much pain. I -implore you, from the bottom of my heart, to be less offensive with me, -or else to leave me for good and all. You may guess from this what I am -enduring. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 2 p.m., January 1st, 1837._ - -Your darling, adorable letter has reached me. I have devoured it with -caresses. Oh, how I love you! I have just sent my child out of the room, -so that I might read it on my knees in front of your picture. These -little pranks may seem foolish, but they contain a deeper, more sacred -significance, like the devotion that inspires them. - -When you come, you will find me joyous and radiant, as I was on that -glorious day when you first revealed your love. My beloved, my heart, I -am very happy. I am in heaven, for you love me, my Toto ... your dear -letter has said it. Your eyes, your mouth, your soul, will tell me so -still better, presently. Yes, indeed I am happy, I am surfeited. There -is nothing left for me to desire or require--I have your love, a love -which God Himself might envy were He a _woman_. - -Thank you, adored one, thank you from my heart and soul. I am as good as -gold, believe me. - -JUJU. - - -_Tuesday, 7.30 p.m., February 21st, 1837._ - -Do not grieve, my precious, do not lament. I will not attempt -consolation, for you have better and more efficacious resources within -your own self; but I share your affliction. Whatever saddens you -saddens me: where you love, I love; when you mourn, I mourn. If I -conjure you not to give way to your grief, it is not because I hesitate -to bear my portion of it, but because I believe that your poor brother -himself would not now desire a return to this life.[65] I look upon his -death more as a blessing than a misfortune. Poor brother! - -I love you, my adored Victor. In moments such as these, when sorrow -brings you nearer to my level, I feel that my affection for you is -absolutely true and purified from all dross. Try to come early this -evening. I will lavish caresses upon you silently, with my eyes and my -innermost self, without worrying you. You shall rest by my fireside, and -lean your dear head upon my shoulder, and read, and I shall be glad. - -I am jealous of that woman who has dared to _steal_ your verses; such -things are not _lost_. It was a two-fold wickedness on her part, for she -caused _you_ the trouble of rewriting them, and _me_ the torment of -jealousy. I will not have you see her again, ever! Do you hear? - -Oh, I love you, I love you far too much. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 7.15 p.m., April 2nd, 1837._ - -[Illustration: CARICATURE OF MLLE. GEORGE, BY VICTOR HUGO. - -Victor Hugo Museum.] - -[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF VICTOR HUGO BY HIMSELF.] - -I have decided to get up, after all, thanks to the laundry-man; but for -him, I should have remained in bed, nursing my depression. I am sad -beyond everything, yet I cannot tell why--you are kind and affectionate, -and I love you with my whole soul; but that does not seem enough. -Esteem, the keystone of happiness, is lacking. I have worn myself out in -the endeavour to gain it during the last four years, yet it cometh not, -nor ever will come, now. I must turn my efforts in another direction. I -must try to break with you, tactfully, as you say, by quitting Paris, -and perhaps France. Will that be sufficient to stop the tongue of -scandal? I wish to leave you before you abandon me, because I do not -admit your right to inflict such a fearful blow upon me. There are -people, capable of committing suicide, who yet recoil at the thought of -being murdered--I am one. I can and will kill myself, but I shrink from -the injury you might possibly inflict upon me before long. My courage -does not outstrip your cruelty. I love you too much for happiness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 10.15 a.m., May 2nd, 1837._ - -Good morning, my well-beloved. Did you have a good night? You looked -overstrained and tired yesterday, and indeed there was enough to make -you so, you poor dear. I do not know how you can put up with it all. -Forgive me for adding to your burthen the exactions of a woman who -loves, and fears to recognise in lassitude an evidence of coldness. -Forgive me; if I did not occasionally doubt your love I should torment -you less, and would show more consideration for your occupations and -repose. - -You hurt me very much last night by speaking as you did, yet I wanted to -know your true opinion of me. I have long been tormented by a mournful -curiosity on that point. Last night you satisfied it in full. I know -now that you pity without despising me. I accept your compassion, for I -need it, and ought to have it; but I should indignantly repudiate a -contempt I do not deserve. My past history is sad, but not disgraceful. -My life until I met you was the melancholy outcome of a poor girl's -first fault; but at least it was never soiled by those hideous vices -that deface the soul still more than the body. Even at the worst moments -of my trouble, I cherished within me an inner sanctuary, whither I could -betake myself, as to some hallowed spot. Since then, that sanctuary has -been open to you only, and you can testify whether you have found it -worthy of you; you know whether, since you have occupied its throne and -altar, I have ever failed, one single day or minute, to prostrate myself -on my knees before you in adoration, or have ever turned my gaze or my -soul away from you. This proves, my beloved, that my former backsliding -was only superficial, not inherently vicious; that my wound was -accidental, not a loathsome, devouring canker; that I love you now, and -am thereby made whole. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 10.45 a.m., May 2nd, 1837._ - -I am following up my letter immediately with another, because I am -alone, and the moment is propitious for me to open my heart to you from -the very bottom. Racket and pleasure are a hindrance to meditation, and -at this moment I am rapt in contemplation of you and your beloved image. -I see you as you are, that is to say, a God-made man to redeem and -rescue me from the infamous life to which I had so long been enslaved. -What Christ did for the world you have done for me: like Him, you saved -my soul at the expense of your repose and life. May you be as blessed -for this generous action as you are adored by me for it. I should have -loved you, devil or angel, bad or good, selfish or devoted, cruel or -generous--I must have loved you, for at the mere sight of you my whole -being cries out: _I love you!_ Would that I might proclaim it on my -knees, with hands clasped and heart on lips: _I love you! I love you!_ -The talk we had last night kept me from sleeping, but I do not complain; -there are moments when sleep is a misfortune. I needed to rehearse one -by one all your words, to collect carefully those which must remain for -ever enshrined in my bosom as treasures of consolation and love; the -less generous ones you uttered, I have consumed in the flame of my soul; -nothing remains of them but ashes, dead as the ashes of my past. - -Do not turn away in disgust from the scratches I have sustained in -falling from my pedestal, as you might from hideous and incurable -wounds. I repeat again, my beloved, because it is the truth: misfortune -there has been in my life, but neither debauchery nor moral turpitude. -Henceforth there can be nothing but a sacred, pure love for you. I am -worthy of pardon and affection. Love me; I crave it of you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 11.15 a.m., May 11th, 1837._ - -Good morning, my dear little man; I have bad weather to announce: rain, -snow, hail, wind, and, in addition, an abominable cold in my head which -does not help to resign me to a day already filled with clouds. I love -you--do you know that? and I admire you for your beautiful soul. It is -splendid of you, my great Toto, to have raised your voice so powerfully -in defence of the poor, dead King.[66] You alone had the right, for you -only are above suspicion; you only are influential enough to compel the -impious, pitiless world to listen to your indulgent and religious voice. -If it were possible for me to love you more, I should do so for this; -but from the first day I saw you I have given my whole heart and -thoughts and soul unreservedly into your keeping. - -How I love you, my adored Victor, how I love you! In that short and -much-misused word is contained all my soul, all the bloom of a devotion -that has opened out under the sun of your gaze. Good-bye, my own. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 8.30 p.m., June 2nd, 1837._ - -MY LITTLE MAN, - -You must make up your mind to take my love or leave it. Compare my life -with yours, and see whether I do not deserve that you should pity and -love me with all your might. I am all alone, I have neither family nor -fame, nor the thousand and one distractions that surround you. As I say, -I am alone, always alone; it even seems probable that I shall not see -you to-night, while you will be spending your evening in feasting, -talking, and visiting your uncle, whom may the devil fly away with. -Everybody can get you except me; the exception is flattering and well -chosen. I am so unhappy that I am going to bed and shall probably cry my -eyes out--I am more inclined for that than for laughing. If you succeed -in cheering me up to-night, I shall know you for a great man, and a -still greater sorcerer; but you will not attempt it. I may be as sad and -miserable as I like, and I am certain you will never interfere. - -Good-night, Toto; I am going to bed. Good-night, be happy and gay and -content; your poor Juju will be unhappy enough for both. I love you, -Toto. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 1.30 p.m., June 10th._ - -I love you before all things, and after all things. I love you, love -you, love you! I have just written to Mother Pierceau that I shall send -Suzanne to her to-morrow. I forgot to ask you exactly how much money you -brought me yesterday, and also for cash, for yesterday's expenses. I -will do so to-night. I try hard to keep my accounts accurately, yet I am -always in a muddle at the end of the month, and always either above or -below what I ought to have. I do my best, but nothing seems to bring my -sums out right. - -I think there is going to be a big storm. The sky is lowering like -yesterday, and the weather still more oppressive. Try not to get wet, -and come and fetch your umbrella before it begins to pour. - -What a delightful afternoon we spent yesterday! I wish we could have it -over again, even if we had to be soaked to the skin. I shall never -forget the Bassin du Titan.[67] The pretty turtledove that came to -slake its thirst in it seemed to recognise us, and wait for its drink, -until you scattered drops of poetry into the mossy, flowery grooves, -surrounding its edges. - -Heavens! what precious pearls you squandered yesterday in that -magnificent garden, at the feet of those peerless goddesses, which seem -to come to life when your glance rests upon them--what flowers upon -those lawns, peopled with joyous children! How all those gods and -goddesses, heroes, kings, queens, women, nymphs, and children, must have -quarrelled over the treasure you lavished upon them! I was sorry to go -away. I should have liked to go back in the moonlight and gather up all -those jewels upon which you set so little store. Oh, I must return there -very soon, and we will at the same time revisit our Metz, where we have -enjoyed so much bliss. That journey will bring us happiness, and I long -to make it. I love you, my great Toto. Forgive this scribble; it looks -absurd now, and indeed it must needs be so, for I was inebriated with -love when I wrote it. My thoughts stagger and fall upon the paper, -because they have drunk too deeply of my soul, and know not where they -are. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 3.45 p.m., July 27th, 1837._ - -I must contribute my scribble in acknowledgment for the delightful lines -you have just written in my little book.[68] My voice will sound like -the cackle of a hen after the song of a nightingale; but that is the law -of nature, so I do not see why I should be silent, because I have heard -you. It was rash of you, my dear little man, to put down the date you -suppose was that of my birth; but, as I am too honest to contradict you, -I accept it and affirm that, since those days when you were a little boy -studying _Quintus Curtius_, you have developed, and far outstripped all -those you revered and admired when you were an urchin of seven--while I -have remained the poor, uncultured girl you know. It is pretty certain -that education could have added but little to my barren nature; the -weeds of the sea-shore do not gain much from cultivation. On that point, -thank Heaven, I have nothing to complain of. No one worried much about -me until you appeared upon the scene; but you came, my great and sublime -poet, and you did not disdain to cull the little scentless flower -prinking itself at your feet, to attract the sunshine of your glance. I -bless you for your goodness. I know that a father and mother look down -upon you from the realms above, and love you for the happiness you have -given to the poor little daughter they left solitary on earth. I weep as -I write, for it is the first time I have really looked into my innocent -past, and my loving heart. I bless you, my generous man, on earth, as -you will be blest in heaven. May all those dear to you participate in -this benediction, and in the joys and riches of this world and the next! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 9 a.m., September 21st, 1837._ - -GOOD MORNING, MY BELOVED. - -The anniversary of our return to Paris has been sadder still than the -day itself, since you have not been with me at all, either last night -or this morning. I am upset in consequence. I have not yet taken off my -nightcap. I am cross. Shall you be at Auteuil all day? What a -disappointment for poor Juju, not to speak of Claire, who has to take -her chance of my temper when I am cross, and that idiot Madame Guerard, -who has put me to the expense of a stamp merely to say that she thinks -she is getting fat, and that she wishes you good morning. How thrilling! - -I love you, dearest Toto; I love you too much, for I am miserable when -you are away. I wish I could care comfortably, like you, for instance, -who feel neither better nor worse, whether I am near or far. You are -always the same; love never makes you miss the point of a joke, or a -hearty laugh, nor fail to notice a grey cloud, the Great Bear, a frog, a -sunset, the earth, water, gale, or zephyr. You see everything, enjoy -everything, without a thought for poor old Juju, who is being bored to -desperation in her solitary corner. Which of us two is the best lover, -eh? Answer that it is I, Juju, and you will be speaking the truth. Yes, -I love you. Try not to stay away from me all day. Love me for being sad -in your absence. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 6.30 p.m., September 23rd, 1837._ - -You are making yourself more and more of a rarity, my beautiful star, so -that I become chilled, and gloomy as an antique, moss-grown statue, -abandoned in the wilds of some deserted garden. I am not angry with you, -but I do wish you were less busy and more lover-like. You have quickly -resumed your fine Paris appearance, my beloved little man, whilst I -still cling to my travelling disguise. You ought surely to have waited -for me to take the initiative, if only for the sake of manners. Whom are -you so anxious to please, my bright boy? Who is the favoured one you -aspire to put in my place? In any case, I warn you that I shall not be -sly like Granier,[69] but that I shall fall upon your respective -carcases with frank blows of a cudgel, mind that! Now you may go in -search of your charmer, if you are prepared to see your bones ground to -powder for my use. - -If you come early this evening I shall be so happy, so cheery, so -content and good, that you will never wish to leave me again; but, if -you delay, I shall be exactly the reverse, and you will have to coax and -love me with all your might to comfort me. - -You are letting your letter-box get over-full again. Toto, Toto, I shall -make a bonfire of its contents if you do not come quick and secure them. -Mind what you are about! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 12.45 p.m., November 22nd, 1837._ - -I really believe you do it on purpose; but you may be certain that I -shall pay you back in the same kind: indifference for indifference; -_donnant donnant_ is my motto. - -Now let us talk of other things. What do you think of the taking of -Constantine? I cannot believe the present Ministry will survive long as -at present constituted; Thiers and Barot may be called upon at any -moment to form a new cabinet. What is your opinion? The commercial -crisis is still making itself felt in the markets; oils of every -description have gone down; for instance, rape oil which was at 47 is -now only at 45. A recovery is looked for next year, but I have my doubts -about it, haven't you?[70] - - * * * * * - -Do you not agree with me that all this points to a revolution in the -near future, which will entail sinister results for Wailly's Government? -For my part, I view with consternation the removal of the Carlists from -St. Jean Pied de Port to Paimb[oe]uf, after a sojourn at St. Menehould. -I am already sick of the recital of the horrors which disturb the -digestion and the tranquillity of the citizens, of whom you are the -chief ornament. Pray accept the expression of my distinguished -consideration. - -JULIETTE. - - -_December 5th, 5 p.m., 1837._ - -How kind you are, my Toto, to have come and relieved the suspense I was -in as to what had happened in Court.[71] Heavens, how well you spoke! I -was so moved and so convinced while I listened, that I forgot even to -admire you, yet I have never known you finer or more eloquent. Why must -the case be adjourned for a week? Is it to allow time for intrigues -against the incorruptible consciences of my lords the judges? I should -have given worlds for the verdict to have been delivered to-day; first -because it would relieve you of an anxiety as annoying as it is -fatiguing, secondly because I myself crave repose, and since this devil -of a lawsuit has come on the scene I cannot sleep at night, and lastly -because I shall then see you oftener, or at least so I hope. - -While I was waiting for you just now I copied a few passages from the -letters of Mdlle. de Lespinasse about the C. D.[72] and the S.[73] of -her period. Her opinions then, fit our own times absolutely: the same -absurdities, the same platitudes, and the same petty triumphs! It would -be pitiable were it not so grotesque. Nothing seems to have altered in -the last sixty years; there are the identical _bourgeois_ in the -identical Rue Saint Denis, the same men and women of the world--nothing -is missing. They have not grown old, they are still in good health. -Stupidity and bad taste are the best agents for the maintenance of -society in all its pristine foolishness. Here am I drivelling on just as -if I knew what I was talking about. It would be a nice set-out if I -attempted to write! I might just as well present myself as a candidate -for the Senate. Please forgive me. Your lawsuit is the cause of my -chatter, but I will not transgress again. I love you far too much to go -out of my way to make a fool of myself. - -JULIETTE. - - - RECEIPTS FOR THE MONTH OF DECEMBER 1837 - - Dec. Frs. Sous. Liards. - - Cash in hand 4 0 3 - 1. Money earned by my Toto 51 4 0 - 4. Cash from my darling 5 10 0 - 6. Money earned by my dear one 44 0 0 - 9. Cash from my Toto's purse 10 0 0 - 12. " " " " " 5 0 0 - 13. " " " " " 7 0 0 - 14. Money earned by my darling 45 0 0 - 17. Cash from my adored one 10 2 0 - 18. " " " " " 4 2 0 - 19. Money earned by my beloved 60 0 0 - 22. Cash from my Toto 2 0 0 - 24. " " " " 10 0 0 - 26. " " " " 3 0 0 - 28. Money earned by my Toto 102 12 0 - 30. Money earned by my darling 100 9 0 - _Plus_ the money for - the earring and ring 2 0 0 - ------------------ - Total 466 19 3 - - EXPENDITURE FOR THE MONTH OF DECEMBER 1837 - - Frs. Sous. Liards. - Food and wine 99 2 3 - Coal 1 1 0 - Lighting 21 6 0 - Household expenses and postage 16 0 0 - Baths, illness 8 1 0-1/2 - General expenditure 29 8 0 - Incidental expenses and pocket-money 5 8 0-1/2 - Dress 41 5 0 - Incidental expenses and pocket-money 5 8 0-1/2 - Dress 41 5 0 - Washing 16 5 0 - Debts and pawnbroker 151 6 0-1/2 - Wages 20 13 0 - To the Lanvins 4 2 0-1/2 - ----------------------- - Total 413 19 5 - Cash in hand 53 0 0 - - ----------------------- - 466 19 5[74] - -To Toto: 9 luncheons. - -Dinners to 10 persons. - -In all, about 19. - - -_Sunday, 1.45 p.m., January 21st, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my dear one, good-morning, my big Toto. How did you manage -to fit into your bed? You must have curled yourself up into five or six -hundred curves. One grows at such a pace in the space of an evening like -last night[75] that you must have become gigantic by this morning, -though you were already greater than any one else in the world. I have -grown, too, for my love equals your beauty, equals the praises and -admiration lavished upon you; so, unless one is prepared to state, -against all logic, that the container is smaller than the contents, I -must have grown and even surpassed you--without vanity. Love exalts as -much as glory does, and I love you more than you are great. Yes my Toto, -yes my dear Victor, I dare affirm it because it is true. I love you more -than you are great. - -How did you spend the night, adored one? I hope you did not work, tired -out as you were, and in that horrible little icehouse. I cannot think -of that room without shivering from head to foot. I shall be very glad -when I hear that it is closed and warmed. Unfortunately that does not -promise to be soon, and meanwhile you suffer and freeze, and I torment -myself about you. - -I adore you, my beloved Toto. I would die for you if you would promise -always to think lovingly of me; even without that condition I adore you, -my Victor. - -JULIETTE. - -_Sunday, 5.45 p.m., January 21st, 1838._ - -Must it always be my lot to wait, dearly beloved? I thought I had given -proofs sufficient of courage and resignation all this time, to have -earned my reward now. Of course I know you must have had the whole of -Paris in your house to-day, but if you cared for me as I do for you, you -would leave all Paris, and the world itself, for me. What good is the -back door, if not to enable you to evade importunate people, and fly to -the poor love who awaits you with so much longing and affection? Why -carry _four keys_ in your pocket, like the gaoler in a comic opera, if -you do not make use of them on the proper occasion? I am very sad, my -Toto. I do not think you care for me any more. You are as splendidly -kind and generous as ever, but you are no longer the ardent lover of old -days. It is quite true although you will not admit it out of compassion -for me. I am very unhappy. Some day I shall do something desperate to -rid you of me, for I cannot bear to realise the coldness of your heart, -and at the same time to accept your generous self-sacrifice. - -You know I have always told you that I will accept nothing from you if -you do not love me! I love you so much that if I could inspire you with -my feelings, there would be nothing left for me to desire in this world. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, Noon, February 12th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my dear little man. How are you this morning? I am very -well, but I should be still better if I had seen you and breakfasted -with you.... I am arranging to go to _Hernani_ to-night. I hope there -will be no hitch, and that the promise of the bills will at last be -fulfilled. I am longing for the moment. It is such ages since I have -seen my _Hernani_, and it is such a beautiful creation! I wish it were -already night, and I were in my little box, with dear little Toto -sitting at the back, where I might reward him with eyes and lips for -every beautiful line. You are not jealous? Yes, I want you to be -jealous! I want you to be jealous, even of yourself, or else I shall not -believe that you love me. - -Good-morning, Toto. All this nonsense simply means that I dote on you -and think you beautiful and great and adorable. You did not come last -night--probably because there was to be a rehearsal this morning. Try -and behave properly at it, for I have Argus eyes and shall come down -upon you myself, like a thunderbolt, in the midst of your antics. -Meanwhile, take care of yourself; do not get cold feet or a headache -like mine; it would be a great nuisance. - -Dear soul, if you had the least regard for your health, you would have -your flannel underclothing made at once. I assure you you would find it -very comfortable. I am sorry now that I let you take the stuff away, for -if I had it still, I should force you to do all this. It is not that I -want to worry you, my adored one, for I know how many other important -things you have to think of, but this is one of the most pressing; that -is why I should like it done. I love you, my Toto, with all my strength, -and more yet. I press my lips in spirit upon your eyes and hair. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 12.15 p.m., March 7th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my dear little beloved. How are your eyes, my Toto? It -torments me to know that you are suffering so much, for however brave -and uncomplaining you may be, I can see quite well that you are in pain. - -If you knew how I love you, my dear one, you would understand my trouble -and grief when you suffer. I suppose you are going to the rehearsal this -morning. I wish the first performance[76] was to be this evening, for I -am trembling already. Generally, I only begin to shiver on the day -itself, but this time my terrors have set in twenty-four hours in -advance. I hope my fears will have been vain, like so often before, and -that your beautiful poetry will prove all-conquering as ever. To-morrow -my soul will animate the spectators. I shall inspire enthusiasm in the -discriminating, and strangle, by sheer force of love, the hatred and -envy of the scum who would dare criticise your magnificent _Marion_, for -whom I have so special a partiality. - -[Illustration: AUTOGRAPH AND DRAWING BY JULIETTE DROUET.] - -I express myself awkwardly, but I feel all this acutely. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 7.30 p.m., March 7th, 1838._ - -MY DARLING, - -I see you very seldom, but it is not your fault, I know. I look -constantly into my heart, whence you are never absent, and there I see -you growing daily nobler, greater, and dearer. So to-morrow is _the -great day_! Ardently as I have desired its advent, I now dread it more -than I can say. However, up till now I have always been very frightened, -and nothing has happened, so I hope it may be the same this time. -Besides, how could the disapproval of a few miserable wretches and -idiots affect the magnificent verses of _Marion_? It will only prompt -the sincere and intelligent portion of the audience to do you instant -and brilliant justice. I am no longer afraid. I am as brave and strong -as love itself. Put me where you like--I do not care--all places are -equally good to applaud from, just as all moments are suitable for -adoring you. Good-bye, my love. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 12.45 p.m., March 8th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, blessed one. I am quite upset. If your success to-night is -in proportion to my fright, you will have the most magnificent triumph -of your life. I hardly know what I am doing; I am shaking like a leaf, I -cannot grasp my pen. I must try to pull myself together for this -evening. It is absurd of me to be such a little craven; besides, what -harm can a _cabal_ do you? None! It can only enhance your greatness, if -such a thing be possible; so, I am ashamed of my cowardice. I am -horribly stupid to dread a thing which certainly will not happen, and if -it did, would not injure you. Now that is enough! I will not fear again, -and I will admire and applaud my _Marion_ in the very face of the cabal. -I will give them a hot time to-night! Bravo! bravo!! bravo!!! I feel as -if I were there already, and the happiest of women. - -My little darling man, are you not soon coming to me? I do so long for -you. I feel as if you had been very cold to me lately. In the old days, -a first performance did not prevent your coming to make love to me. -Heavens, what torture it is to have to doubt you at a moment when I am -so desperately in need of you! I love you! - -JULIETTE. - -_Friday, 1.45 p.m., March 9th, 1838._ - -You are adorable, my great Victor. I wish I could express myself as -earnestly as I feel, but that is impossible; I am tongue-tied. So the -great performance is over! What a fool I was to be frightened, and how -rightly I placed my confidence in that great noodle the public, which is -so slow and so hard to work up, but when once started, boils over so -satisfactorily. What a magnificent success, and how thoroughly -justified! What a beautiful piece, what lovely verses! and the -fascinating poet! Everything was understood, applauded, admired. It was -delightful. My soul was raised heavenward with the Play. Dear God, how -magnificent it was!!!!!!!!!!! I must be there again to-morrow, and every -night. Surely I have the right! - -I love you, my Toto, I adore you with all the strength of my soul. I -wish I could go out--it is such a fine day. I kiss your beloved hands. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 12.15 a.m., March 11th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my beloved one, good-morning, handsomest and greatest of -men. I cannot speak as well as some of the people who pay you such -beautiful and sincere homage, but I feel from the bottom of my soul that -I admire and love you more than any one in the world. All the same, I am -sad and discouraged. I can see that you place no reliance on my -intelligence, that my last years are flying by without earning what they -easily might: a position, and a provision for the future. I am not angry -with you. It is not your fault if you are prejudiced against me to the -point of allowing me, without regret, to waste the last few years of my -youth. Possibly my desire to create for myself an independent position, -and to remain ever at your side, has given birth to the delusion that I -possess a great talent which only requires scope. However that may be, I -am in despair, and I love you more than ever. You are good to look at, -my adored one, you are great in intellect, my Victor, and yet I dare -proffer my devotion, for it is as genuine as your beauty and as deep as -your genius. I adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 11.30 a.m., April 10th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my soul, my joy, my life. How are your adored eyes, my -Toto? I cannot refrain from asking, because it interests me to hear, -more than anything in the world. I am always thinking about them. I long -for the 15th of this month, for then I shall have the right to insist -upon your resting, and I shall certainly exercise it. My dear love, what -joy it will be for me to feel your dear head leaning against mine, to -kiss your beautiful eyes, and to make certain that you do not work. The -weather is lovely this morning. It carries my thoughts back to our dear -little annual trip, when we were so happy and so cosy together. We are -not to have that felicity this year, and really I do not know how I -shall endure it when the time comes at which we used to start. It will -be very hard and difficult, and I doubt whether my courage and reason -will suffice to enable me to bear the greatest sacrifice I have ever -made in my life. My dear one, it will be sad indeed; I wonder whether I -shall be equal to it. - -I love you, adore you, admire you, and again I love and adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 7.45 p.m., April 10th, 1838._ - -My love, I am writing to you with joy and worship in my heart. You were -so kind and tender and fascinating to me to-day that I seemed to feel -again the savour and rapture of the days of old. My Toto, my adored -one, fancy if your love were to flower again like some brilliant, -sweet-scented spring blossom! With what ecstasy and reverence I would -preserve it fresh and rosy in my breast. Poor beloved, your work has -done to our idyll what the winter does to the trees and flowers--the sap -has retired deep into the bottom of your heart, and often I have feared -it was quite dead; but now I see it was not: it was only lulled to sleep -and I shall possess my Toto once more, beautiful, blooming, and perfumed -as in those glorious days of our first love. - -I who am not a sensitive plant of the sun like you, have yet come better -through the trial, and if I bear no blossom, I have at least the -advantage of preserving my leaves ever green and alive; that is to say, -I have never ceased to love and adore you. Indeed that is true, my own, -I love you as much as the first day. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 11 a.m., April 22nd, 1838._ - -You see, darling, by the dimensions of my paper, that I am preparing to -go and applaud my _Marion_ this evening. I will not reproach you for not -having come this morning. In fact, in future I shall not allude to it -again, for nothing is more unsuitable or ridiculous than the -solicitations of a woman who vainly appeals for the favours of her -lover. Therefore, beloved, as I am to live with you as a sister with a -brother, you will approve of my refraining from reminding you in any way -of the time when we were husband and wife. - -It is still very cold, my maid says; although the sun is shining in at -my windows, it has left its warmth in the sky. It resembles the fine -phrases of a suitor who no longer loves; his words may be the same, his -expressions as tender, his language as impassioned, but love is lacking -and those words which scintillate as the sun upon my windows, fail to -warm the heart of the poor woman who had dreamt of love eternal. - -You will probably see Granier this morning.[77] I hope so, so that you -may not be worried any more about that business. I also hope Jourdain -will come to-morrow about the chimney. It is unbearable that one should -have to wait upon the whim of a workman for a job which might be -finished in a few minutes, and that would please you so much. I have -read with pleasure the verses that came to you in the newspaper from -Guadaloupe; they show that you are admired over there as much as here, -and that you have fewer enemies abroad than at the Academie Francaise. I -am furious with that little imp called Thiers, who although he is not a -quarter of a man as far as size goes, yet permits himself to cherish the -rancour of a giant. Miserable little wretch! If only I were not a woman, -I might castigate you as you deserve! - -And you, my Toto, so great and so wonderful, I adore you! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 10.15 a.m., August 2nd, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my little beloved. Do you still need a secretary? I am -quite ready. Come; it is so delightful to dip my pen into your glorious -poetry, and watch the shining and coruscating of those precious gems -which take the shape of your thoughts. Dede could not be more delighted -and dazzled than I am, if she were given the diamonds and jewels of the -crown of England to play with for an hour. Oh, if I could only have -spent the night with my Caesar and his noble companions, I would have -followed him without fatigue wherever he wanted to go, even as far -as.... But you would not allow it, you jealous boy; you feared -comparison, and you were perfectly right, for I like well-dressed men. -Good-morning, my Toto. My left eye is very bad; it is swollen and -painful. If this continues I shall no longer be in the position of -regretting that I cannot lend you my eyes in exchange for your own. I -love you, I adore you. Do not be too long before coming to me. - -I am longing for you with all my might. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 9.45 p.m., August 15th, 1838._ - -My dear little man, I love you. You are the treasure of my heart. I wish -we were already in our carriage galloping, galloping far, and farther -still, so that it might take us ever so long to get back. - -Since you have hinted at the possibility of my playing in your beautiful -piece,[78] I am like a somnambulist who has been made to drink too much -champagne. I see everything magnified: I see glory, happiness, love, -adoration, in gigantic and impossible dimensions--impossible, because I -feel you can never love me as I love you, and that my talent, however -considerable, can never reach to the level of your sublime poetry. I do -not say this from modesty, but because I do not think there exists in -this world man or woman capable of interpreting the parts as you -conceived them in your master mind. - -I love you, my Toto, I adore you, my little man, you are my sun and my -life, my love and my soul. - -All that, and more. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 8 p.m., September._ - -Are you proposing to cut out all the dandies and bloods of the capital? -My congratulations to you. I was only waiting for some such sign to give -myself up to an orgy of wild and eccentric toilette. Heaven only knows -the extravagances I mean to commit in the way of shoes, silk stockings, -gowns, hats, light gloves, and bows for my hair! You will, I suppose, -retaliate with an assortment of skin-tight trousers, strings of orders, -and more or less absurd hair arrangements. Delightful indeed! There only -remains for one of us to live at the Barriere de l'Etoile and the other -at the Barriere du Trone, to dazzle the dwellers of the town and -suburbs, as well as strangers from abroad. Capital!!! - -My sore throat has come on again and you are not here to cure it. If you -think this pleasant you are quite wrong, and if I followed my own bent I -should deprive you of your functions as doctor-in-chief of the great -Juju. I am determined to forgive you only if you come to supper with me -presently. Seriously, I cannot understand why you keep away, seeing -that your Play is in rehearsal, that this is our holiday time, and that -I adore you. I am almost tempted to be a little jealous, only -unfortunately, when I mean to be only slightly jealous, I become very -seriously so; therefore I try as much as possible to spare myself that -discomfort. You would be sweet and kind, my Toto, if you would come and -eat my frugal dinner with me to-night and ... I am going to concentrate -my thoughts upon you, so as to magnetise you and bring you back in the -shortest possible time to your faithful old Juju who loves and adores -you. My first proceeding is to kiss your eyes, your mouth, and your dear -little feet. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 12 noon, October 30th, 1838._ - -My beloved little man, you are so good and sweet when you see me that it -is a pity you should see me so seldom, and that you should forget me as -soon as your back is turned. To punish you, I am not going to write you -two letters to-day; partly in consideration for your dear little eyes, -and partly because it would be unfair to reward indifference and -coldness in the same degree as affection and assiduity. Pray do not take -the above expression, "dear little eyes," in an ironical sense--I mean -it on the contrary as an endearing diminutive; your "dear little eyes" -signify to me my adored, beautiful eyes, the mirrors of my soul, the -stars of my heaven, everything that is most beautiful and fascinating, -gentlest, noblest, and highest. - -I love you, my Toto. I kiss your ripe red lips, your dazzling teeth, -your little hands, and your twinkling feet. I am writing only your -little daily bulletin, because your eyes are bad, and you have no time -to waste; neither do I wish to tire or bore you, but only to make you -love me a little bit. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8.30 p.m., November 22nd, 1838._ - -My little treasure of a man, you were sweet to select my hovel for a -resting-place from which to write your laudatory remarks upon Mlle. -Atala Beauchene,[79] commonly called Beaudouin. It gave me a chance to -admire your charming profile and kiss your beautiful shining locks. I -thank you for that happiness, and I consent to your inditing daily -effusions concerning that lady, if only you do so in my room and under -my eyes. - -As you promised to come back presently, the chances are that you will -not return. I have half a mind to undress, light my fire, and set to -work to bruise poppy-heads; for my provision is almost at an end, and -later on I may be busy at the theatre, if Joly[80] persists in his crazy -idea of giving us a whole week's rehearsals of a piece which is only to -be played four months hence. It is an inducement to use the time at my -disposal now, to prepare your little daily remedy. - -I love you, Victor, I love you, my darling Toto. - -JULIETTE. - -_Monday, 6 p.m., April 15th, 1839._ - -Why is it, my little beloved, that you always seem so jealous? You take -the bloom off all those scraps of happiness your dear presence would -otherwise give me, for nothing chills one's embraces so much as the -vexed, uneasy mien you usually wear. It would not even be so bad if you -did not accuse _me_ of that same constrained, annoyed look; but the more -suspicious you are, the more you think it is I who am cross, although -this is simply the effect of the glasses through which your jealousy -views me. Never mind, I love you and forgive you, and if only you will -come and take me out a little this evening and show me part of _Lucrece_ -I shall be happy and content. What a beautiful day! I would have given -days and even months for the chance of strolling by your side wherever -your reverie led you. Alas, it is I who am sad, and with excellent -reason! As for you, you old lunatic, what have you to complain of? You -are adored, and you are free to accept and make use of that sentiment as -much and as often as you desire; perhaps that is why you desire it so -seldom.... But let us talk of other things. Please love me a little, -while I give you my whole soul. - -JULIETTE. - -_Sunday, 6.30 p.m., October 27th, 1839._ - -Here I am at my scribbling again, my Toto. It is a sad pleasure, if any, -after the two months of love and intimacy which have just elapsed. Here -I sit again with my ink and paper, my faults of spelling, my stupidity -and my love. When we were travelling I did not need all this -paraphernalia to be happy. It was enough for me to worship you, and God -knows whether I did that! Here I do not love you less--on the -contrary--but I live far from you, I long for you, I worry about you, I -am unhappy--that is all. Still, I am not ungrateful or forgetful; I -fully appreciate that you have just given me nearly two months of bliss. -I still feel upon my lips the touch of your kisses, and upon my hand the -pressure of yours. But the felicity I have experienced only throws into -greater relief the void your absence leaves in my life. When you are no -longer by my side, I cease to exist, to think, to hope. I desire you and -I suffer. Therefore I dread as much as death itself the return to that -hideous Paris, where there is naught for lovers who love as we -love--neither sunshine, nor that confidence which is the sunshine of -love--nothing but rain, suspicion, jealousy, the three blackest, -saddest, iciest of the scourges which can afflict body and heart. Oh, I -am wretched, my Toto, in proportion to my love; it is true, my adored -one, and it will ever be thus, when you are not with me. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 10 a.m., November 1st, 1839._ - -Good-morning, my dear little beloved, my darling little man. You told me -so definitely yesterday that my handwriting was hideous, and my scrawl -nothing but a horrible maze in which you lose both patience and love, -that I hardly dare write to you to-day, and it would take very little to -make me cease our correspondence altogether. We must have an explanation -on this subject, for it is cruel of you to force me to make myself -ridiculous night and morning, simply because I love you and am the -saddest and loneliest of women. If my love must be drowned in my -ignorance and stupidity, at least do not force me to make the plunge -myself. There was a time when you would not have noticed the ugliness of -my writing; you would only have read my meaning and been happy and -grateful. Now you laugh, which is shabby and wicked of you. This seems -to be the fate of all the Quasimodo of this world, moral and physical; -they are jeered at: form is everything, spirit nothing. Even if I could -constrain my crabbed scrawl to say, "My soul is beautiful," you would -not be any the less amused. Therefore, my dear little man, pending the -moment when I can join in the laugh against myself, I think it would be -as well to suspend these daily lucubrations. Besides, the moment has -come when I must turn all my time and energies towards making my -position secure. Nothing in this world can turn me from my purpose, for -it is to me a question of life and death, and Heaven knows that in all -these seven years I have never failed to tell you so whenever there has -been an opportunity. I count upon you to help me, my beloved. I am -asking you for more than life--for the moral consummation of our -marriage of love. Let me go with you wherever my happiness is -threatened, let me be the wife of your mind and heart, if I cannot be -yours in law. If I express myself badly, do not scoff, but understand -that I have a right to put into words what you yourself have felt, and -that I insist upon defending my own against all those women who get at -you under pretext of serving you. I will have my turn, for I love you -and am jealous. - -J. - -_Friday, 6.30 p.m., November 1st, 1839._ - -You are good, my adored one, and I am a wretch; but I love you while you -only permit yourself to be loved; that is what makes you so tranquil and -me so bitter. My heart is weighed down by jealousy this evening and -nothing less than your adored presence will suffice to calm me, for I -carry hell and all the furies within my soul. I wish I could be sewn to -the lining of your coat to-night, for I feel I am about to encounter -some great danger that I can only defeat by not leaving your side. If my -fears are well-grounded, I shall probably fail in averting the doom that -threatens me, for you will not be able to stay with me all the evening. -The compliments and flattery you will receive will take you from me. I -cannot deny that I am unhappy and jealous, and would much rather be with -you at Fontainebleau, at the Hotel de France, than in Box C. of the -Theatre Francais, even when _Marion de Lorme_ is being played. Kiss me, -my little man; you are very sweet in your new greatcoat, but you had not -told me you had been to your tailor. I shall keep up with you by sending -for my dressmaker. I do not mean to surrender to you the palm for -smartness and dandyism. Ha! who is caught? Toto! Toto! - -Resilieux is beaming, Claire is happy, Suzanne is an idiot; such is the -condition of the household. I am all three at the same time, plus the -adoration I profess energetically for your imperial and sacred person. -Kiss me and be careful of yourself this evening. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 12 noon, November 4th, 1839._ - -Good-morning, treasure. It is twelve by my clock, which is several hours -fast, but I have been up some little time. I have dressed my child, and -she is now practising on the piano. I spent the night thinking over what -you said, my adored one. One luminous phrase especially stands out and -scorches my soul. Perhaps you only said it idly as one of the -compliments one is constrained to make to the woman who loves one? I -know not, but I do know, that I have taken the assurance you gave me -that you have never really loved any woman but me, as a sacred thing, -unalterably true. I adore you and had never felt even the semblance of -love until I met you. I love and adore you, and shall love and adore you -for ever, for love is the essence of my body, my heart, my life, and my -soul. Believe this, my treasure, for it is God's own truth. Your dread -of seeing me re-enter theatrical life will quickly be dissipated by the -probity and steadiness of my conduct. I hope, and am certain of this. -You have nothing to fear from me wherever I may be. I adore you, I -venerate you. If I could do as you wish and renounce the theatre, that -is to say my sole chance of securing my future, I would do so without -hesitation and without your having to urge it, simply to please you. -But, my beloved, I feel that it were easier to relinquish life itself -than the hope of paying my creditors and making myself independent by -earning my own living. If I were to make this sacrifice I am sure my -despair would bring about some irreparable catastrophe that would weigh -upon you all your days. - -My adored one, do not try to turn me from the only thing that can bring -me peace and make me believe in your love. Help me and do not forsake -me unless I give you just cause to do so. Spend your whole life in -loving me, in exchange for my unswerving loyalty and adoration. - -Kiss me, my little man. - -I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 4.45 p.m., November 15th, 1839._ - -I wrote the date and hour on this half-sheet of paper, thinking it was -blank. I explain this, in order that your suspicious mind may not again -draw a flood of insulting deductions from a thing that has happened so -simply and naturally. You upset me just now when you said good-bye, -because you said cruel things. It was a bad moment to choose. Your -manner to me is enough to discourage an angel, and I have begun to ask -myself whether it is possible to love a woman one does not esteem. If -you esteemed me you would not for ever suspect my words, my silence, my -actions, my conduct; if you loved me you would know how to appreciate my -honesty and fidelity, whereas even in the tenderest moments of our most -intimate communion, you never fail to say something cruel and -disheartening. I often say one might almost imagine you were under a -promise to someone to tire out my love by inflicting pain upon me on -every occasion; but I hope you will never succeed in doing this. - -I suffer, I despair at heart, but I love you so far, and I hope for both -our sakes that I always shall. I cling to my love even more than to your -esteem, for the latter is a poor blind thing that cannot distinguish -night from day, candle-light from sunshine, or an honest woman from a -harlot. - -[Illustration: THE BRIDGE OF MARNE. - -Drawing by Victor Hugo (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -My love is more clear-sighted. It was attracted at once by your physical -and spiritual perfection, and has never confused you with any other of -the human species. I love you, Toto. Torment me, drive me to desperation -if you will, but you shall never succeed in diminishing my affection. My -head aches, little man, and the thoughts that fill it at this moment are -not calculated to cure its pain. I press my hand upon my brow to crush -thought, and I open my heart to all that is good and tender in my love -for you. Good-bye, Toto. I adore you. Good-bye. We were very happy this -morning; let us try to be so again very soon. - -In the meantime I adore you. - -JULIETTE. - -_Wednesday, 8.45, November 20th, 1839._ - -I am in despair. I wish I were dead and everything at an end! The more -precautions I take, the more I purge my life, the less happiness I -achieve. It is as if I were accursed, and I often feel a wild desire to -behave as if I were, and crush my love underfoot. I am so unhappy that I -lose all courage and hope for the future. You were very good to me when -you were going away, but that does not prove that when you come back -presently you may not be the most offensive and unjust of men. I -sacrifice to you one by one all my actions, even the most insignificant; -I am careful inwardly and outwardly to cause you no sort of offence, and -yet I am unsuccessful! My struggles only fatigue and dishearten me. On -the eve of taking the great step which would bind us to each other even -closer than we already are, would it not be better for us to break off -our relations, and put a stop to the whole thing instead? I can -understand now the generosity of Didier, who elects to die upon the -scaffold forgiving Marion with his last breath, rather than live -persecuting and torturing her with the recollection of her past, and -with suspicions a thousand times more painful than death and oblivion. -Ah, yes, I can understand a Didier like that.... I suffer! Ah, God, -people who do not love are very fortunate! I love you, and I know that -failing some violent remedy I shall continue to suffer and care for you. -I admit that all these things I write are absurd, and that it would be -wiser to throw this letter into the fire, and keep to myself the -thousand and one follies inspired by my despair. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 5.30 p.m., December 16th, 1839._ - -You did well, my adored one, to come back after the painful incident we -had just gone through. If you had not, I should have been wretched all -the evening. Thank you, my beloved Toto, thank you, my love. You looked -very preoccupied, my treasure, when you came up the first time. I -gathered that Guirault's letter had something to do with this, and that -you were meditating your answer. Beyond that, I did not take much -notice, for I was too furious with you to be able to think of anything. - -If you knew how much I love you, and how faithful I am to you, my adored -one, you would be less suspicious. Suspicion is an insult that makes me -frantic, because, it proves to me that you do not believe in either my -honesty or my love. Jealousy is another thing: one can be jealous of a -face or of a person, because however sure one may be of one's own -superiority, one may still fear that some beast or monster may be -preferred to oneself; but jealousy, I repeat, is different from -everlasting suspicion of one's actions and even of one's negative -conduct and inaction. Finally, I differentiate between jealousy and -suspicion; I feel there is a great gulf between my jealousy and yours, -and yet I love you more than you love me--you cannot gainsay that--if -you admit it, I will pardon all your misdeeds and adore you and kiss -your dear little feet. _Hurrah! I am to have my wardrobe! Hurrah!_ - -You will not be an Academician, but you will always be my dear little -lover. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 5 p.m., January 16th, 1840._ - -I love you, my Toto, and am sad at seeing you so seldom. But I know how -much you have to do, my little man, so am not angry with you--still that -does not prevent me from being horribly sad. - -Money melts in my pocket. I was reading yesterday a description of -Monsieur de Sevigne, the son, which applies wonderfully to me. "He had -no hobbies, did not entertain, gave no presents, wore plain attire, -gambled not at all, had only one servant and not a single horse on which -to ride out with the King or the Dauphin; yet his hand was like a -crucible wherein gold is melted." I am rather like that. I do not give -many presents, I wear the same dress for a year at a time, I only do -expensive cooking when you are coming to dine with me, I have only one -servant, and yet money disappears in my establishment like snow under -the rays of the sun. With me, it is not my hand that is the crucible, -but my past life, which is like an abyss that all the money in the world -would find it difficult to fill. That is why I am sad. Love me, my Toto, -and above all do not kill yourself with working for everybody as you do -without respite. I can sell something I do not want, whereas your health -and repose are indispensable to my welfare and tranquillity. Remember -that, my dear one, and do not be over scrupulous at the expense of the -real consideration which makes my happiness. When shall I see you again, -treasure? - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 1.15 p.m., March 22nd, 1840._ - -Good-morning, my beloved Toto. I read the manuscript of "Didine" over -again last night, and I shed all the tears I had restrained in your -presence. I am more convinced than ever that you committed an act of -unfaithfulness against our love when you composed those lines. I do not -see how you can hope to persuade me to the contrary, or wonder that I am -wounded to the quick by such a mental and spiritual lapse. Jealousy is -not excited only by infidelities of the senses, but primarily by such an -infidelity as that which you have committed in writing these verses and -concentrating your gaze and your thoughts upon that young girl, while my -whole heart and soul were raised in prayer for you in that church at -Strasbourg. I will never go back there, either to the church or to the -town. There is an end of that. Would to God we had never gone there at -all! I should have preserved one illusion more, and suffered one sorrow -less. Well, well, it is not your fault. You wished to carry away the -memory of that woman, as you could not possess her person, and you have -written some very beautiful lines which prove, in the same degree as my -pain, what a profound and striking impression she produced upon you. I -hope you may never experience a jealousy so well-justified as mine about -any woman you may love in the future; for myself I desire a speedy -recovery from the most miserable infatuation in all this world. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 6.45 p.m., June 1st, 1840._ - -I am writing to you in the company of Resilieux, my love, but that does -not restore to me the gaiety I have lost since this morning. That woman -and her persistence annoy me more than I can say. When I think of the -close confinement in which I live and realise the depth and devotion of -the love I bear you, I am indignant to the bottom of my heart that a -wretched woman of the street should dare to cast the eye of envy upon a -passion which constitutes the religion and adoration of my whole life. -If I listened to my own inclination, I should make a terrible example of -the hussy and her low caprice, and no other would venture an attempt to -capture your affections for many a long day. I am wretched since this -morning. I think myself plain, old, stupid, badly dressed--and all -because I tremble for the safety of my love, because I am afraid for my -poor little slice of happiness. Alas! alas! my Toto, I care too much -for you; it is crazy of me. I did so hope that when your family was -settled in the country, you would sometimes come and take me out with -you--but, on the contrary, in a whole month I have only been out once -with you; for I do not count those two evenings at the theatre, when I -drove there and back in a carriage. It would be a cruel jest if you -considered those as going out with you. I am not well. I have rushes of -blood to the head and heart, but you do not care. I shall not do my -monthly accounts to-night; my head aches too badly. Perhaps I may try -to-morrow. The laundress has been here and I have paid her; I shall -probably get the grocer's bill to-morrow, but I shall certainly not pay -it unless you have plundered some passer-by to-night. Meanwhile, I love -you, my Toto. Dinner has just been announced; I shall not be as happy as -yesterday, for you are not dining with me; but perhaps as I am alone I -shall be able to ruminate over my good fortune, for I was hardly able to -realise it at all yesterday with all those females about. - -JULIETTE. - - -_January 7th, 9.30 a.m., 1841._ - -Good-morning, my darling Toto, to whom I dare not yet give his -prospective title, for I am very doubtful of the integrity of old -Dupaty. I hope you will not keep me waiting too long for the result of -the rabid voting of the opposing parties.[81] The contest becomes more -and more curious and interesting. I wish it were already four o'clock. - -The weather is not very propitious for that moribund scoundrel. It would -be difficult to let him down through the window, and still more so to -transport him to the place where we do not wish him to be. If the -computation is correct, the mortal illness of the old wretch should give -you the place by a majority of one vote at the first scrutiny; but what -about a black-ball? Perhaps this time it will come from the ignoble -creature who walks under the filthy, greasy, hideous hat of that beast -Dupaty. I wish we were already at this afternoon, that I might know what -the foul old man has dared to do. Until then I shall look at my clock -many and many a time. Try, my love, to come at once and tell me the -result whatever it may be. I shall at least have the pleasure of seeing -you, which will add to the joy of your nomination or console you for -your defeat. - -By the way, you were so shabby last night that one might suppose you -were preparing to contest the palm of bad dressing with that old -pickpocket Dupaty. I shall forgive you your untidiness if you are -successful. I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 6 p.m., January 7th, 1841._ - -I am enchanted for everybody's sake, my dear Academician, that at last -you are elected. There you are at last, thanks to the seventeen votes of -your friends, and in spite of your fifteen adversaries. You are an -Academician. Hurrah! - -I wish I could have witnessed with my own eyes the grimaces of all -those contemptible old things, and heard the profession of faith of that -horrible Dupaty; you ought to indemnify me by showing me your own -beautiful countenance for a little more than a paltry five minutes as -you did just now. I love you, Toto, as much as the first day and more -than ever. But, alas, I dare not believe the same of you, for I do not -see much proof of it, as my maid would say. The fact is that whether as -an Academician, or a candidate, or nothing at all, I hardly see you more -than an hour a day. This is neither novel nor consoling; it becomes more -and more sad and painful. Think of that, my love, and come very soon -after you have read my letter. - -I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 10.45 a.m., April 11th, 1841._ - -Good morning, my beloved Toto, my adored little man. How are you, my -darling? I am afraid you may have tired yourself last night reading your -splendid speech to me. Poor beloved, it would be a calamity that my -pleasure should cost you so dear; it would be unjust and cruel. I hope -it is not so, my adored one, and that you have not been punished for -your kindness. - -What a magnificent address! and how stupid it is of me only to -appreciate it inwardly, and to be incapable of expressing my feelings -better than by inarticulate grunts. It is not my fault, yet since I have -learned to love you I have not been able to resign myself to my -limitations. Every time the opportunity presents itself to admire you I -am furious with myself and should like to slap and kick myself--though -my poor body would have no time to recover between the assaults, for -every single thing you say and do is as admirable and striking as your -written works. So I should be kept busy. Fortunately you do not object -to my want of intellect; you realise the quality and proportions of my -love. All my intelligence and being have turned to spirit, to idolise -you. I may be only a goose outwardly, but inwardly I am sublime with -devotion. Which is best? I cannot tell, it is for you to decide. -Meanwhile I am the most fortunate of women to have heard the beginning -of your beautiful speech, and I love you with all my strength. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 4.30 a.m., June 3rd, 1841._ - -Good morning, my adored little man, my beloved _Monsieur l'Academicien_! -How are you, my Toto? I am very much afraid you will be horribly tired -before this afternoon, poor treasure![82] I think you should have had -the speech printed a day earlier, and have kept this night free for -resting. - -I really do not know how you will manage to deliver your address after -these several days of grinding fatigue, and a night spent in correcting -the proofs at the printing-works. Nobody but you can accomplish these -feats of endurance. Still, my beloved, it is time you changed a mode of -living which must kill you in the long run. I hope you are going to -spend the remaining few hours in your bed. - -I already feel as agitated as if I were going to make the speech myself. -I shall be in a desperate state of mind until you have finished and -Salvandy begins to speak. I shall have this fearful lump on my chest -until then. - -Whatever happens I adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_June 3rd, 5.30 p.m., 1841._ - -Where shall I begin, my love? At your divine feet or your celestial -brow? What shall I express first? My admiration? Or the adoration that -overflows my heart like your sublime genius surpasses the mediocre -creatures who listened to you without understanding, and gazed at you -without falling upon their knees! Ah, let me mingle those two sentiments -that dazzle my brain and burn up my heart. I love you! I admire you! I -adore you! You are truly splendid, noble, and sublime, my poet, my -beloved, light of my eyes, flame of my heart, life of my life! Poor -adored beloved; when I saw you enter, so pale and shaken, I felt myself -swooning, and but for the support of Madame Demousseaux and Madame -Pierceau, I should have fallen to the floor. Happily nobody noticed my -emotion, and when I came to myself and saw your sweet smile answering -mine and encouraging me, I felt as if I were awaking from a long, -painful dream, though only a second of time had elapsed. - -Thank you, my adored one, for sparing a thought to the poor woman who -loves you, at that solemn moment--I should have said, that supreme -moment, if the assemblage had not consisted for the greater part of -tiresome blockheads and vile scoundrels. - -Thank you, my good angel, my sublime Victor, my illustrious _child_. I -saw all your dear little family;[83] lovely Didine, charming Charlot, -and dear little Toto who looked pale and delicate. I kissed them all in -spirit as I did their divine father. - -I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 2.30 p.m., July 8th, 1841._ - -While you are lording it at the Academie[84] I am weeping and suffering -at home. You might have spared me this pain by inviting me to attend the -sitting, or else staying away yourself. I must warn you, my Toto, that -this sort of sacrifice and torment is unendurable, and if it happens -again I do not know what I may do rather than resign myself to it. - -We are not living in the East, and you have not _bought_ me, thank -Heaven! I am free to cast off the yoke of proceedings which are neither -just, nor kind, nor affectionate. I swear by all I hold most sacred in -this world, namely my love, that I will not submit a third time to be -thus flouted. If you knew how furious and miserable I am feeling at this -moment of writing, you would not venture to inflict a third trial of the -kind upon me. In any case pray keep my letter as a _definite -announcement_ of what I am capable of doing if you are so cruel as to -persist in your present line of conduct. Meanwhile I am doing my best to -avoid taking any definitely fatal step, but I warn you that I cannot -much longer remain mistress of myself. - -JULIETTE. - - -_1 a.m._ - -Hell in my heart at noon, Paradise at midnight, my Toto. I love you and -have full confidence in you. - - -_Friday, 7.45 p.m., November 19th, 1841._ - -I HAVE IT! HURRAH!! Fancy, it has been here all the morning, yet nothing -warned me! My heart did not beat faster than usual, the earth did not -tremble, the skies did not fall, in fact everything remained in its -humdrum, normal condition, as if nothing unusual had happened--and it -was here all the time! I possessed it in my room, under my eyes! Verily -it can hardly be credited, and if anybody but myself said so I should -not believe it. But what you must believe, my love, for indeed it is -true, is that I love you and that you are the kindest, most charming, -best, handsomest, most generous, most noble, and most adored of men. -That is what you have got to believe, because it is God's own truth. The -cabinet is fascinating, but what is still nicer is the way you gave it -to me. "The manner of the gift is better than the gift itself," was once -said by some one whose name I have forgotten. When you are the donor, -the proverb is still more applicable. If you had all the treasures of -the universe to bestow, you would do it with a grace that would enhance -the value of the gift a thousandfold. As for me I am mad with delight, -for I believe you love me. I may tell you now that last night I cried -helplessly at the thought of how much younger and handsomer you are than -I. I anticipated the moment when you will no longer be able to love me, -and my heart contracted so that I should have suffocated without the -relief of tears. I feel I shall certainly die the day you cease to care -for me, and I know that no other woman can ever worship you as I do. But -I trust that day will never dawn, will it, my angel? There are no -wrinkles in the heart, and you will see my face only in the reflection -of your attachment, eh, Victor, my beloved? The while I wept and -mourned, you were thinking of me, my poor sweet, and bringing me the -cabinet. We were both performing an act of love, mine gloomy, yours, -charming and considerate like everything you do. I hope your present -will bring us both happiness, and that you will adore me as long as I -shall admire my dear little cabinet--that is, for ever. - -I HAVE IT! WHAT HAPPINESS! I should like to put it in the middle of the -room on a golden table, or in my bed, or carry it in my arms, on my -heart, anywhere in fact where it could be seen and touched. Meanwhile I -will give it a good cleaning to-morrow. It is rather too late to-night. -I must do some copying, and dine, and send you back the scribble you -entrusted to me yesterday, so I will put off till to-morrow--principally -because I shall have a better light then. I will clean it in bed, drawer -by drawer. It will be a delightful occupation. - -I love you, I love you, Toto, I kiss you and adore you, Toto. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday evening, 6.30, February 9th, 1842._ - -Do you really want me to write Toto, even when my heart is breaking, and -my soul brimful of discouragement? I obey, but if you would only listen -to me, you would allow me to discontinue these daily scrawls, which have -never served any purpose but that of betraying the measure of my -stupidity and making you tire of a love become absurd by dint of -reiteration. I feel you only insist out of kindness, but it seems futile -to continue this childish babble, which deceives neither you nor me, and -gives me no indication of what is passing in your mind. It would be -better, my beloved, to inure me gradually to a catastrophe which may be -nearer than I guess, than to make efforts to leave me an illusion which -neither of us really shares nowadays. A sad ending to all our past -happiness! God grant it may not be altogether buried. This does not -prevent me from doing you full justice, my friend. You are kind with a -kindness full of pity and divine indulgence, but you no longer cherish -for me the love of a man for a woman. Do not pretend otherwise, for you -cannot delude me. I bear you no grudge my Victor, neither should you -bear me any, for it is no more your fault than mine, that you do not -love me while I still love you--not our fault, but God's, Who -distributes unequally the amount of love we may each expend during our -lives. Happy he or she to whom the smaller sum is apportioned--so much -the worse for him or her whose heart is inexhaustible. Now, my beloved -Toto, I will torment you no longer. I will even try to make myself -agreeable, though, alas, what woman can be agreeable when she is no -longer loved! But I shall do my best, and that, coupled with your -natural generosity, may still retard for a few days the greatest -misfortune of my life. Fear nothing from me, my Victor. You have to-day -received the last expression of my choler. One may strike, and even -kill, while one feels oneself beloved, but one must spare the man who no -longer cherishes one. - -You see, my Victor, that you have nothing to be afraid of, but I beseech -you to let me off these daily scribbles about things that have neither -point nor reason. - -I demand this of your goodness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 2.30 p.m., February 10th, 1842._ - -My beloved, my adored Victor, thank you! You remove hell from my heart, -and replace it with paradise. Thank you! My life, my spirit, my soul, -bless and adore you. What a letter, my God! I wanted to read it -kneeling; happy tears poured down my cheeks. You love me, my dear one! -It must be true, for you declare it in the loveliest, sweetest language -of the whole world. You love me although I am ill-tempered, violent, -stupid; you love me my good angel, because you know that your love is -the breath of life to me, and that without it I could no longer exist. I -also love you, but only God and myself know how deeply. Yesterday when -you left me, I was on my knees praying and kissing with tears the -footsteps I could hear fading away in the street. I could have flung -myself out of the window and died at your feet. My despair, then, was as -poignant as the bliss I felt just now when I read your adored letter. -My Victor, my love, my life, my joy, I love you more than ever! I -implore your forgiveness, I throw myself at your feet and embrace them. -Thank you, my treasure. You must be very happy, for you have done a -lovely thing in writing me the most charming, the kindest, the most -wonderful and most adorable letter that ever issued from your heart. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 9.30, April 30th, 1842._ - -Good morning, my adored Toto. How did the little invalid sleep last -night? As for you, I do not even ask, my poor dear, for I know you spend -all your nights working. I love you, my poor angel. I do not know what -else to say, because that is the only thought in my heart and soul; to -love you always and for ever. Here comes the bright sunshine that is -going to cure our poor little man at once.[85] I have not seen a finer -spring since the one we spent strolling about the heights of Montmartre -together. I cannot think of it without tears of regret for the days that -are gone, and of gratitude to Providence for those few moments of most -perfect felicity. I would give half my life to have it again, my beloved -Toto; and it depends only upon you--if you wished it, we could easily -recover the happiness of those days. Why do you no longer desire it? I -know you have to work, but so you did then--_Claude Gueux_, _Philosophie -Melee_, _Les Voix Interieures_, _Les Chants du Crepuscule_, _Angelo_, -_Les Rayons et Les Ombres_ and _Ruy Blas_, are there to prove it. In -those days you loved me better than you do at present. Alas, I love you -more than ever, or rather, as much as the first day!--that is, with -all my soul. - -JULIETTE. - -[Illustration: A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET. - -The original belongs to M. Louis Barthou.] - -_Saturday, 6.30 p.m., August 20th, 1842._ - -I am a strange creature--at least you think so, do you not, beloved? But -what you take for eccentricity, caprice, bad-temper, is really love, but -an unhappy love, mistrustful and anxious. Everything is to me a subject -of dread almost amounting to despair. Thus this visit to the Duchesse -d'Orleans, whither I quite admit you were kind enough to take me, was -simply a torment on account of the hour and the circumstances: I, badly -dressed, barely clean, and that woman under the prestige of a great -sorrow[86] which, next to physical beauty, is the surest way to your -heart. I frankly confess that however gallant my love may be, and -whatever reliance I may place upon your loyalty, I am not easy when I -have to fight and struggle without weapons. This result of a _surprise_ -and a hurried rush through Paris in a cab may seem excessive to you, and -verging on hysteria; but the fact is, my adored one, that my love, so -long repressed, is verily degenerating into a disease, almost into -frenzy. Everything hurts me. I am afraid of everything. I am a poor -thing needing much compassion for loving you so. If these incoherent -expressions do not force upon you the realisation of the depth of my -devotion, it must be that you no longer care for me, or indeed have -never done so; but if on the contrary you do understand, you will pity -and pardon me, and love me all the better, and I am the happiest of -women. - -JULIETTE. - - -_February 14th, 11.15 a.m., 1843._ - -Good morning beloved Toto, good morning adored one. I love you. When I -heard you describing last night the impression produced upon you by the -rehearsal of _Lucrece_ and more especially by the singing of the guests, -I seemed to feel it all myself. The fact that my love has not grown a -day older, that my admiration is still on the increase, that I think you -as handsome and as young as ever, makes it easier for me to go back to -the feelings of those days. Looking into my heart, I seem to feel that -all this adulation and joy and feast of glory and love began yesterday. -Alas, those ten years have left traces only upon my poor countenance, -and have been as harsh to it as they have been indulgent to your -charming features. - -I express this somewhat crudely, as I always manage to do, but it is not -my fault, my love, nor any one else's. I love you. Therein consist my -intelligence, my wit, my superiority; beyond that I am as stupid as any -other animal. - -You must be very busy to-day with the two rehearsals,[87] and the -Maxime[88] worry which falls upon your devoted head, not to speak of the -_great business_! I dare not expect you to-night till very late. Well, -my dearly beloved, I know you do not belong to me, so I will resign -myself as cheerfully as may be, and put a good face upon your absence. -Try to think of me, my dear little man; that is all I venture to ask at -this moment. As for me, there is no more merit in thinking of you and -loving you than in breathing. - -I love you, Toto, as much as life. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 4.30 p.m., September 13th, 1843._ - -Where are you? What are you about, my adored one?[89] In what condition -is your family? What state are you in yourself? what will happen to us -all in our despair, if God be not merciful to us! Since you left me I -can think only of your arrival at home. I imagine the scene: the -despairing sobs of your children, the expression of your own frightful -grief, so long and sternly repressed. All those tears and sufferings -fall back upon my heart and rend it. I cannot bear more. My poor head is -on fire and my hands burn like live coals. I want to pray and cannot; -all my faculties, all my being, turn to you. I would give my life to -spare you a single pang. I would have sacrificed myself in this world, -and the next to save your adored child. My God, what will become of me -if you stay away much longer, when I have refrained with such difficulty -from sending to get news of you? I have begged Madame Lanvin to come to -me this afternoon and bring her husband, so that if, as I fear, I have -not seen you before then, he can go and ask for news of you under the -name of Monsieur St. Hilaire. My heart aches, my poor treasure, when I -think of all you are enduring. I feel I cannot much longer bear not -seeing you. I shall commit some act of folly if you do not come to my -assistance. I exhausted my strength and courage on that awful journey, -and during last night and to-day. I have none left now to endure your -absence. I picture to myself your wife ill, and you also; in fact, I am -like a mad thing in the extremity of my anxiety and grief. I am trying -to occupy myself mechanically, in order to bring nearer the moment when -I shall see you, but my efforts only make every minute of waiting seem -like a century, and all the fears my heart anticipates, become frightful -realities against which I cannot struggle. My adored Victor, whatever be -your despair, mine is greater still; for I feel it through my love, -which makes it a hundred times worse and multiplies it beyond all human -calculation. Never has man been so idolised by woman as you are by me, -and the poor angel we mourn knows it and sees it now, as God knows and -sees it, and she will forgive, as He does, I am certain. I think of her, -poor beloved, as an angel of heaven. To her I shall direct my prayers, -that she may give you the strength and courage you need. To her also I -shall address myself in the hour of death, that the good God may take me -with all of you into His Paradise. - -My adored Victor, it is more than five o'clock, and you have not yet -come. What shall I do! What can I think, or rather what am I to fear? We -are in a terrible cycle of misfortune, and God only knows when it will -end. My Victor, before giving way to despair, think of mine, remember -that I love you more than life. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 5.45 p.m., October 8th, 1843._ - -I have been working all the morning my beloved, or rather scribbling on -paper--only to please you, for I doubt whether my labour will be of any -use to you; still, I am trying hard, and if I cannot do _better_, I am -doing _my_ best. I cannot do more. I am trying more especially to forget -no detail, which makes me occasionally note down trivialities, little -futile, insignificant things. My search among our memories is like the -botanising of a child who is as apt to collect couch grass as the more -useful and rarer plants. However, I am doing my best, and better still, -I am obeying you. Would you believe that, although I have been writing -the whole day, I have not yet reached _Auch_.[90] My mind and pen rather -resemble the fantastic equipage we drove thither, but there is less risk -in the present venture. The worst that can happen is that we should -tumble promiscuously into a muck heap of absurdities and nonsense which -leave no bruises, whereas we risked our necks several times in the -course of the thirty-three miles between Tarbes and Auch. - -I should love to see you, my Toto. The day, though filled with joyous -recollections of our journey, has seemed long and sad to me. Nothing can -take the place of one of your embraces. The remembrance of the greatest -happiness cannot weigh against one glance from you. I realise it more -to-day than ever before; therefore, do try and come, my beloved Toto. It -will give me courage and patience to get through the evening. I love you -too much, you see, but I cannot help it; it is no fault of mine. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 7.15 p.m., November, 1843._ - -I think of you my beloved, I desire you, I love you. Ah yes, I love you -my adored Toto, you may be sure of it, for it is God's truth. My little -Claire and I talk of you and nothing but you. We love you and bless you. -The poor little child will not be with me much longer, and I can already -see her poor little face wrinkling up with sorrow; but I try to be -cheerful and to remind her of the fortnight's holiday which will soon -come. We love the pictures of your dear little Toto, and his pretty -home. We gaze at them with eagerness and affection, we are all eyes and -heart. At this moment Claire is reading Ulric's poems,[91] while I am -writing to my beloved Toto with a heart full of gratitude and devotion. -May the happiness you bestow upon me, be yours also, my love! May a just -pride sustain you, for you have saved two souls, the mother's and the -daughter's! I feel ineffable things I dare not express, for fear of -vulgarising them by the mere fact of putting them into words. Do not -delay long ere you come, my darling Toto. If you knew the joy and -radiance you diffuse in this house, you would indeed hasten your steps. -Alas, I am foolish, for have you not children of your own whom you must -also make glad! I am envious of them, but not cruel enough to deprive -them of their bliss--only I beg of them to hurry with their enjoyment, -so that my turn may come. - -Did you give Dede the sachet? Did Toto take back his quince jelly? -Meanwhile, I am giving Suzanne a whole evening to herself, and making my -little rogue read _Le Musee des Familles_. I should love to give you a -good kiss, but I know you will not come for it. You have not the sense -to do so. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 11.15 a.m., July 22nd, 1844._ - -Good morning my beloved, my sweet, my darling little Toto. How are you? -Are you less sad and painfully pre-occupied than yesterday, my adored -one? Alas, it is unlikely ... your grief and sorrow are not of those -that time can soften. You have the painful faculty of feeling things far -more acutely than do other men. Genius does not only pertain to the -brain, it belongs above all to the heart. My poor dear one, I love you; -I suffer when you suffer; be merciful to us both, I implore you. - -My little Claire went away this morning. She was more resigned than -usual, for she has a holiday of three days in prospect, beginning next -Saturday. The poor little thing is very devoted to us; her sole -happiness is to be with us. She complains of not seeing you often -enough, and I back her up in that. You must try to give us at least one -evening out of the three she will spend at home. Verily I am not very -cheerful company for the poor child when I am alone with her. I am so -absorbed in my love that sometimes I do not speak to her twice in the -day, however much I try to bring myself to do so. - -I have copied Mery's verses, because I do not wish to deprive -Mademoiselle Dede of his autograph. I can understand her setting store -by it, poor darling, so I shall make a point of returning it to her. -Only (and it is you I am addressing now) you must give me just as many -as you give her. You must not lose your good habits, my darling, for I -am sure it would bring us bad luck. Therefore you must bring me all your -letters as you used to do. I promise to divide them conscientiously with -dear little Dede, and you know quite well that I am a woman of my word. -I adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 4.45 p.m., October 20th, 1844._ - -I have sent to Barbedienne, my adored one, but Suzanne has not yet -returned. I am writing to you meanwhile to make the time hang less -heavy. I hope to goodness I may be able to procure that lovely -medal![92] Since I have glimpsed the chance of possessing it, I feel my -disappointment would be greater than I could bear, if I failed to get -it. Good God, how slowly that girl walks! Fancy having to trust to legs -like those on such an occasion! I could have gone there and back ten -times, since she went. May the devil fly away with her, or rather, -precipitate her right into the middle of my room with his cloven foot, -providing only that she brings the longed-for medal! - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN 1846. - -Bust by Victor Vilain (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -Here she is! Ah! Victor, do not be angry! Victor, I am at your -feet--Victor, I will be reasonable for the whole of the rest of my life -if only you will let me add 15 fr. to the sum you promised me. Oh, -Victor, I have not time to wait for your answer and yet I fear to annoy -you. Ah, no, you are too kind to be angry with your poor Juju who loves -you with such absolute admiring, devoted love! You will look at her with -your gentle, ineffable smile, and say I was right--surely, yes, you -will. Three cheers for Toto! Juju is a clever woman ... at heart. Yes, -it is quite true and I am the happiest of women. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 9.30 a.m., September, 1845._ - -I have just been gardening, beloved. I am soaked with dew and all muddy, -but I have spent three hours thinking of you without any bitterness. My -eyes were as moist as my flowers, but I was not weeping. While I busied -myself with the garden, I reviewed in thought the lovely flowers of my -past happiness. I saw them again fresh and blooming as the first day, -and I felt close to you, separated only by a breath. As long as the -illusion lasted I was almost happy. I should have liked to pluck my soul -and send it to you as a nosegay. Perhaps what I am saying is silly, yet -it is the sort of nonsense that can only issue direct from the -tenderest, most passionate heart that ever lived. For nearly thirteen -years past, I have never once written to you without feeling my hand -tremble and my eyes fill. When I speak of you, no matter to whom, my -heart swells as if it would burst through my lips. When I am dead, I am -certain that the imprint of my love will be found on my heart. It is -impossible to worship as I do without leaving some visible trace behind -when life is over. - -My beloved Victor, let your thoughts dwell with me, so that my days may -seem shorter and less dreary; and do try to surprise me by coming -to-night. Oh, how happy I shall be if you do that! - -Meanwhile, I love you more than I can say. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 a.m., September 27th, 1845._ - -Good morning my beloved, my soul, my life, my adored Victor. How are -you? I hope yesterday did not tire you too much. I forgot until you -reminded me that you have been forbidden to walk much, but I do trust it -did you no harm; did it, Victor darling? As for me I felt no fatigue, I -seemed to have wings. I should have liked to place my feet on all the -paths we traversed together eleven years ago, to kiss the very stones of -the roads and the leaves on the trees, and to pick all the flowers in -the woods, so keenly did I fancy they were the very same that watched us -pass together all those years ago. I gazed at you my adored Victor, and -in my eyes you were as young and handsome, nay handsomer even, than -eleven years ago. I looked into my heart and found it full of the same -ecstasy and adoration that animated it the first day I loved you. -Nothing was changed in us or about us. The same ardent, devoted, sad and -sweet affection in our hearts, the same autumn sun and sky above our -heads, the same picture in the same frame; nothing had changed in eleven -years. I would have given a decade of my life to stand alone for ten -minutes in that house that has sheltered our memories for so long. I -should like to have carried away ashes from the fireplace, dust from -the floors. I should have liked to pray and weep, where once I prayed -and wept, to have died of love on the spot where once I accepted your -soul in a kiss. I had to exercise superhuman self-control not to -perpetrate some act of folly in the presence of that girl who showed us -so indifferently over a house I could have purchased at the price of -half the rest of my life. Fortunately, thanks to her profound ignorance -of our identity, she noticed nothing, and we were each able to bring -away a tiny relic of our former happiness. Mine must be buried with me -when I die. - -Beloved, did you work late last night? It was very imprudent of you if -you did, after the fatigue you underwent during the day. To-day, you -must be very careful and not walk much. I shall be extremely stern with -you. My antiquarian propensities shall not make me forget, like -yesterday, that you are still convalescent and must hardly walk at all. -And you will obey me, because little Totos must always obey little -Jujus, as you know. - -Kiss me, my adored Victor, and may God bless you for all the happiness -you give me. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 9 p.m., May 2nd, 1846._ - -I cannot nerve myself to the realisation that I shall not see you this -evening my sweet adored beloved; yet it is all too true. This is the -first time in fourteen years that I have not slept in a room belonging -to you.[93] Consequently I am feeling quite forlorn. Everything -conspires to harrow me. Just now when I left you I longed for death, and -the tears I drove from my eyes trickled inwardly to my sad heart. If -this anxiety about my child, and the separation from you, are to last -long, I do not think I shall have strength to endure them. I am vexed -and disgusted at the tone of those about me. I am ashamed and indignant -at my inability to remove myself from it, however I may try; then when I -remember you, so generous, so loyal, so noble, so kind and indulgent, my -bitterness evaporates and nothing remains in my heart but admiration, -gratitude, and love for your divine and fascinating self. - - * * * * * - -When I got back, I found my child in a raging fever. I gave her fresh -compresses, and now she is sleeping. God grant she may do so all night, -and that the change of ideas and surroundings and air may have a good -effect upon her health. I shall in that case have less cause to grudge -the sacrifices I am voluntarily making to that end. Meanwhile, I am a -prey to fearful anxiety, and am suffering the uttermost from the absence -of what I love best in this world, above life, above duty, above -everything. Good-night, beloved. Think of me. Sleep well, and love me. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 3.45 p.m., 1846._ - -I love you, my Victor. Between every letter of those five sweet words -there lurk depths of maternal anguish and sorrow. Gloomy reflections -mingle with my tenderest thoughts. My life at this moment is divided -between my poor little daughter whom I already mourn in anticipation, -(for I feel that these few days of illness are but snatched from -Eternity), and my adoration for you, from which no preoccupation, even -of the most terrible and sinister character, can long distract me. On -the contrary, my love is all the greater for the trials and sufferings -God sends me. I love you selflessly, as if I myself were already over -the border. My heart is racked, yet I adore you. - -Claire's condition is the same as yesterday; only the weakness, which, -but for the doctor's plain warning I might have attributed to the heat, -has increased. The night was not very bad; the poor little thing suffers -hardly at all. She seems to have no firmer hold on life than life has -upon her. Apathy and profound indifference characterise her illness. -Only her father has the power to rouse her for the few moments he is -with her. He came this morning and happened to meet the doctor,[94] who, -it appears, is not quite so despondent as Monsieur Triger;[95] but what -does that prove? - -I have not been able to get her up at all to-day. She lay in bed in a -state of profuse and constant perspiration. The various tonics she takes -fail to produce any effect whatever. The exhaustion increases hour by -hour, which means that death is coming nearer. I pray, but I obtain -neither solace nor confidence. The good God disdains my prayers and -rejects them, I know--yet I love and admire Him in His beneficent, -lofty, noble, generous and beautiful works. - -I love Him as His saints and angels in Heaven love Him. What more can I -do to find favour in His eyes? He deprived me of my mother at my birth; -now He is about to snatch my child from me. Is that His justice? I do -not want to blaspheme, but I am very miserable, and if I do not see you, -if you cannot come to-day, I do not know what will become of me. Despair -fills my soul, but I love you. God may crush my heart if He so wills, -but the last breath from it shall be a cry of love for you, my sublime -beloved. - -JULIETTE. - - -_April 29th, 9 a.m., 1847._ - -Good morning, my adored Victor. My thoughts and soul and heart go out to -you in this greeting. I hope I shall see you before you go to the -rehearsal, for if I do not, I shall have to wait till this evening, -which would increase my depression. From now until the anniversary of -the terrible day on which I lost my poor child, every hour and minute is -punctuated by the recollection of the sufferings of that poor little -thing, and of the anguish I went through. They are painful memories, -impossible to exclude from my thoughts. Last night while I lay sleepless -I seemed to hear her, and in my dreams I saw her again as she looked at -the close of her illness. I am worn out this morning. All the pangs and -fatigues of the last moments of her life weigh down my heart and limbs. -It may be that I shall find comfort in prayer, and I shall pray better -by her side, buoyed up by the hope that she will hear me and obtain for -me resignation enough to bear her absence without murmur or bitterness. -It was you who gave me the courage to live. All that a heart can gain -from consolation, I found in your love; but there is a grief surpassing -all others and beyond human aid, for which only God can provide, and to -Him I must address myself to-day. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8 a.m., May 6th, 1847._ - -Good morning, my all, my greatly loved Toto. How are you this morning? -Did you gather in a good harvest of glances, smiles and flattery -yesterday from the women you met? Were you the cause of many incipient -passions, or were you yourself ensnared by those females, like any -beardless student or bald-headed peer of the realm? Tell me, how are you -after your evening at Court? For my part, I have a very sore throat and -am feeling fearfully cross. I have a longing to scratch which I should -love to vent upon the face of some woman or even upon yours--or better -still, upon both. I am sick of playing the gentle, sheep-like woman. I -intend to become as fierce as a hyena, and to make your life and -everything depending upon it a burthen to you. I mean to make a terrible -example of you, so that people shall say as you pass by, that it is a -woman who has been outraged, but a Juju who has avenged herself! -Meanwhile, to begin with, I am going to wrest from you somehow, two silk -dresses, a lovely hat, two pairs of smart shoes; and if you do not -confess your crime, I will punish you to the tune of torrents of -tea-gowns, pocket-handkerchiefs, and silk stockings. I am capable of -anything if you drive me too far. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 12.45 p.m., June 6th, 1848._ - -The more I think of all that is going on in Paris at this moment, my -beloved, the less do I desire the success of your election.[96] We must -let this frenzy of the populace which knows not what it wants and is in -no condition to distinguish the true from the false, or evil from good, -exhaust itself first. When it is worn out with turning in its own -vicious circle of disorder, violence, and misery, it will come to heel -and humbly crave the assistance of incorruptible, strong, sane -politicians, among whom you are the most incorruptible, the strongest, -and the sanest. I say this in the simplicity of my heart, without any -pretension to be other than a mere woman who loves you above all things, -and trembles lest you should enter upon some undertaking that might -jeopardise your life without saving your country. Therefore I pray that -this candidature, to which you have been driven in self-sacrifice and -generosity, may not succeed. If I am unpatriotic, I accept the blame, -but I do think that in this instance my feeling is in accord with the -best interests of France. It would not be the first time that the heart -has proved cleverer than the brain. It has happened too often in my case -for me to marvel. Pending our next meeting, I kiss you from my soul, I -adore you with all my strength. - -JULIETTE. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO, REPUBLICAIN. - -Political caricature, 1848.] - -_Monday, 9 a.m., July 9th, 1849._ - -I am hurrying, my love, for I wish to be at the door of the Assemblee at -noon precisely, in order to secure a good place.[97] I wish the great -moment had arrived, for I am already feeling stage-fright, and it will -go on increasing until I see you descend from the tribune. I thought -this morning that I could not experience any other sensation than -happiness at seeing you, but now I begin to understand what fear is. Yet -when I say fear, I am hardly correct; for I mean something more -indefinite, which is rather the suspense before a great joy, than the -stupid emotion of cowardice or funk. In any case, I am very agitated; I -wander aimlessly about the house, and feel as if the longed-for moment -would never arrive. My blessed love, my great Victor, my sublime -beloved, I kiss in spirit your noble forehead with its generous -thoughts, your beautiful eyes so gentle and powerful, your fascinating -mouth, which has the happiness of speaking all your divine thoughts. I -prostrate myself before the most beautiful and most sublime thing in the -whole world, namely, your dear little person and your profound genius. - -I do not ask you to think of me before your speech, adored one, but -afterwards I entreat you to spare me one glance to complete my -happiness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 12.30, February 6th, 1850._ - -Think of me, my adored one, and do not permit yourself to be ensnared by -the mercenary blandishments of that woman.[98] I am in the throes of a -jealousy so terrible, that the hardest heart would be moved to pity, -and the most intrepid would fear me; for I am suffering, and I am -capable of anything to avenge a despicable treachery. Alas, my poor -adored one, this is not what I should like to say, or what I ought to -say. I realise that threats are powerless to hold you. I believe if the -statistics of infidelity could be drawn up like those of crime, it would -be shown that the severe penalties of the code of love are more apt to -drive lovers into breaches of its laws than to bind them together. I am -sure of it, and I wish I could convert my natural ferocity into bland -indifference, in order to remove from you the stimulant of a forbidden -Rachel; but it is no good--I shall never manage it. Therefore, I implore -you for the sake of your personal safety and mine, to be honourable and -prudent in your dramatic relations with that dangerous and perfidious -Jewess. Try not to prolong your literary and theatrical consultation -beyond the strictly necessary limits, and to come and fetch me before -three o'clock. - -I should be so grateful to you, my adored little man, for you would thus -abridge the moments of my torment. Meanwhile I am very unhappy and -anxious and worried. I try to hearten myself up by remembering the last -promises you made me. When do you intend to keep them, I wonder? God -knows! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 a.m., April 6th, 1850._ - -Good morning, my adored one, my sublime beloved. How are you? Did you -have a better night, or did fatigue and excitement prevent you from -sleeping? When I think of the admirable speech, so religious in -character, so noble, self-abnegating, and conciliating, that you -delivered yesterday[99] at the risk of your health, and then reflect -upon the senseless uproar, and idiotic and violent interruptions it -provoked, I feel only hatred, contempt, and disgust, for political life. -It is revolting that a man like you should be the butt of the -irresponsibility of all the parties. It is hateful, abominable, -infamous, that scoundrels without talent, wit, or feeling should dare -argue with you and should be accorded an attentive hearing where you -only meet with insults. Really, my treasure, the more I see of political -life, the more I regret the time when you were simply the _poet_ Victor -Hugo, my sublime love, my radiant lover. I revere your courage and -devotion, but I am hurt in my tenderest feelings when I see you -delivered over to the beasts of an arena a thousand times less -discriminating than that of ancient Rome. Therefore, my beloved Victor, -I have conceived a loathing, not only for your antagonists, but also for -the form of government which imposes this Sisyphus life upon you. If I -had the power to change it, I can assure you I should not hesitate, even -if I had to deprive you for ever of your rights of citizenship. -Unfortunately, I can do nothing beyond cordially detesting those who -obstruct your work. I pity you, bless you, admire you, and love you with -all my soul. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 3 p.m., June 29th, 1850._ - -I have just watched you go with inexpressible sadness, my sweet and -beautiful beloved. With you have departed the sunshine, the flowers, -the pleasant thoughts, the hopes that link past happiness with future -bliss. Nought remains to me but my love, a poor hermit whose regrets -have been her sole bedfellows this long time. When you turned the corner -of the street, something luminous, soft, and sweet, seemed to die within -me. From that moment I have been as depressed and desolate as if a great -misfortune had befallen me. Alas, it is in fact the misfortune that -weighs down my whole life, namely, your absence. Since politics have -monopolised your time, happiness has eluded my grasp. Will it ever -return? I doubt it, hence my despair. I am greatly to be commiserated, -my beloved, in that I have constituted your eyes my illumination, your -smile my joy, your words my bliss, your love my life--so that when you -are away, all these are simultaneously snatched from me. I am not -certain of seeing you to-night, still less to-morrow. What is to become -of me? What am I to do with this poor body bereft of its soul when you -are not by? Tell me if you can. Explain if you dare. Meanwhile, I adore -you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 10 p.m., July 7th, 1851._ - -What I had foreseen has happened, my beloved, even sooner and more -painfully than I had feared. Does this fresh crisis foreshadow my speedy -recovery? I dare not hope it, for I feel that my disease is incurable. I -tell you so in the frankness of my despair. I neither can nor will -deceive you, beloved, and my anxiety, far from diminishing, augments -with every minute. I am suffering the torment of the most humiliating -and poignant jealousy. I know that for seven years you have _adored_ a -woman you think beautiful, witty and accomplished.[100] I know that but -for her sudden treachery,[101] she would still be your preferred -mistress. I know that you introduced her into your family-circle, that -she is of your world, that you can meet her at any moment, that you -promised her you would continue your intimacy with her, at all events -outwardly. All this I know--yet you expect me to feel my own position -secure! Surely I should need to be idiotic or insane to do that. Alas, I -happen to be instead a very clear-sighted, miserable woman. - - -_Midnight._ - -Beloved, thanks to you and thanks to your tender perseverance and -inexhaustible kindness, I am once more, and this time for ever I hope, -the sensible, sanguine, happy Juju of the good old days. But if I am to -be quite as I was then, you must suffer no longer, my little man--you -must be as strong as three Turks, and love me as much as a hundred -Swiss-guards. On those conditions I shall be happy! happy!! happy!!!, -but pending that great day, try to sleep soundly to-night, not to be -unwell to-morrow, and to forgive me for loving you too much. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 p.m., July 26th, 1851._ - -I trust you, my beloved, and believe everything you say. I yield my soul -to the hopes of happiness you have held out to me. My heart is full of -love and security. I love you, I am happy, I am at peace, I forget all I -have suffered. I remember only the tender, loyal, encouraging words you -uttered just now. Felicity has succeeded despair--I quit hell and enter -Paradise. I love you and you love me, nothing can be sad any more. You -will see how I shall resume my interest in life, how I shall smile, how -happy I shall be, and what confidence I shall have in you. I do not know -whether we shall be able to carry out all the adorable plans you -sketched just now, but I experienced great happiness in anticipation -while I watched you making them, and knew myself so closely associated -with them. I felt as if all my past sorrows were transfigured into -happiness to come. I listened, and my heart was filled with joy. Thank -you, my Victor, thank you, my beloved. Do not be anxious about me any -more; now that you love me I shall get well. I shall be happy again, you -will see. I am beginning already, so as to lose no time in rewarding you -for your goodness and gentleness and patience. I am awaiting you with my -sweetest smiles, my tenderest caresses. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 12.45 p.m., July 28th, 1851._ - -This is the hour I begin to expect you, my Victor; each second that lags -past with the slowness of eternity crushes my hopes as quickly as I -conceive them. What is to become of me all this wretched day if I may -not see you? Oh, I thought myself stronger, braver, more resigned; but -now I see I have used up all my strength in the horrible struggle I -have been going through this last month. What will happen to me, shut up -here, all alone with that terrible anniversary, the 28th June, 1851? How -can I evade its ghastly grip, how keep myself from suicide, from the -desperate hankering after death? Oh, God, how I suffer! I implore you, -do not leave me alone here to-d....[102] - - -_Midnight._ - -This letter, which was begun in delirium and mad jealousy has ended, -thanks to you my ineffable beloved, in the happy calm of confidence and -the sacred joy of love shared. May you be blest, my Victor, as much as -you are respected, venerated, adored, and admired by me--then you will -have nothing further to desire in this world or the next. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 a.m., August 2nd, 1851._ - -Good morning, man that I love; good morning, with all my joy and smiles -and soul and happiness and love, if you had a good night and are well. I -felt sure your dear Charles' depression could not stand against an hour -of your gentle and persuasive philosophy. You have the marvellous art of -extracting good from evil, and consolation from despair, and there is -irresistible magic in your eyes and smile; your every word is full of -seduction. I, who only linger in this life in the hope of seeing you -every day, should know something of that. What the joys of eternity in -Paradise may be I cannot tell, but I would sacrifice them all for one -minute of your true love. My Victor, my Victor, I love you. You will see -how sensible I am going to be, and how I shall give way to all the -exigencies of your work, and the consideration required by your position -as a political personage. I am ready, my Victor; dispose of me how you -will; whether happy or unhappy, I shall bless you. I trust the bad -atmosphere you were compelled to breathe for several hours yesterday did -not injure your throat. I am eagerly awaiting this afternoon to learn -this, and to see you. Until then, I love you, I love you, I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday morning, September 12th, 1851._ - -Good morning, and forgive me my poor sweet beloved, for nothing was -further from my thoughts than to torment you as I involuntarily did -yesterday. My foolishness does not include malice, and I respect you -even in my most violent bouts of despair. Besides, you had just been -telling me something that ought to increase my clinging to life, namely, -my responsibility for your tranquillity, your fortune, your genius and -existence. Without accepting in its entirety this exaggerated view of my -own importance in the grave situation you find yourself in, my -persecuted love, I have grasped that I should be unworthy of the -position, were I to allow my troubles to weigh in the balance, against -your safety. Therefore, my Victor, you have nothing to fear from me, so -long as my poor brain retains a glimmer of reason, and my wretched heart -a scrap of confidence in your loyalty. - -I spent part of the night reading over your old letters, especially -those of _May 1844_,[103] and I shed more tears over your desecrated -tenderness and sullied affection, than you can have squandered kisses -upon that woman, during the seven years of your treachery to me. If life -could escape through the eyes, my sufferings would long ere this be -terminated; but like sorrow, the soul is not so quickly exhausted, -though God only knows where it finds sustenance. As for me, my adored -one, I love you without being able either to live or to be healed. I am -ashamed of my incurability, and I gratefully compassionate the -superhuman efforts you make to restore me to courage. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 10.45 p.m., October 23rd, 1851._ - -You know my dear little man, that I need no encouragement to give way to -epistolary intemperance. When time permits, I am always ready to fling -myself unrestrainedly into a sea of lucubrations without sense or end. -But this time I have more than a mere pretext for giving rein to my -harmless mania; I have two days full of the most radiant joy and -happiness that could befall a woman who lives only by and for her love. -Whole volumes would not suffice to enumerate and describe them, and even -your sublime genius would not be too great to express the splendid -poetry of them. I felt as if a little winged soul sprang from each one -of our embraces and flew heavenward with cries of jubilation and joy. -Your love penetrated my soul and warmed it, as the rays of the sun -pierce through the fogs and melancholy of autumn, and reach the earth -to console it and lay the blessed seed of hope within her womb. I -rejoiced in the bliss, watered by tears, that precedes and follows love -and sunshine, in that season of life and nature. Though my heart is -bestrewn with the dead leaves of past illusions, I feel new sap rising -within it, which awaits only your vivifying breath to bring forth the -flowers and fruits of love. - -My adored Victor, my soul overflows with the accumulated joys of those -two days of life by your side under the eye of God. I relieve myself as -best I can by pouring out the surplus of my enchantment upon this paper. -Sleep well, my adored one, I love you and bless you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8 a.m., November 6th, 1851._ - -Good morning, my sweetheart, my adored one. I wish my kisses had wings, -that you might find them on your pillow at your awakening. If you only -knew how much I love you, you would understand that for me there is -life, heart, and soul, only in you, by you, and for you. Yesterday when -I passed your old house in the Place Royale, all the memories of our -love and happiness awoke again within me. I stood awhile before it, -caressing its threshold with my eyes, fingering the knocker, pushing the -door ajar to peer in, as I should look at the inside of a reliquary, or -touch some sacred object. Then I went into the garden to gaze up at the -windows whence you sometimes looked down upon me. I wandered all about -the district in the same sweet, sad tremor I experience when I read over -your old love-letters. I traced our past happiness upon every stone of -the pavement, at every street-corner, on the shop-signs--everywhere I -found memories of our kisses among those surroundings where I enjoyed -happiness for so long, where you loved me and I adored you--where, eight -years ago, I would gladly have lain me down to die if God had left me -the choice. - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Wednesday, 1 p.m., December 17th, 1851_. - -Beloved one, I wish the first sheet of paper I use, the first word I -write, in this hospitable country, to be a message of love from me to -you. It is surely the least I can do, since my every thought, my life -and heart and soul, pass through you before reaching the common objects -of this world and returning to me. Is it indeed possible that you are -safe, my poor treasure, and that I have nothing further to fear for your -life or liberty? Is it true that you love me, and that you deign to rely -upon me in the difficult passages of life? Is it conceivable that I am -henceforth happy and blest among women, and that I have the right to -raise my head and bask openly in the sunlight of love and -self-sacrifice! Ah, God, I thank Thee for all the gifts and joys and -blessings Thou dost bestow upon me to-day, in the revered and adored -person of my sublime beloved! All my efforts shall be directed towards -deserving them more and more. All my gratitude is for Thee, my God! - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Wednesday, 3.30 p.m., December 17th, 1851_. - -Do not worry about me, my beloved, for I never love you better or more -tranquilly than when I know you are attending to your family duties and -busying yourself with securing the peace and comfort of your wife and -children. Pray devote yourself entirely to the service of your noble -wife for the time of her sojourn here. Do not deny her any of the little -pleasures that may divert her mind from the heavy trials she has just -undergone. Let my resignation and courage, my consideration and -devotion, help to smooth the rough places of life for her as long as she -remains with you. Give her all the consolation and joy in your power. -Lavish upon her the respect and affection she deserves, and do not fear -ever to wear out my patience and trust in you. - -I see you coming my adored one. Bless you. - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Monday, 3.30 p.m., January 19th, 1852._ - -I had set myself a task, beloved, before writing to you, in order to -earn that sweet reward. I have just completed it, and without further -delay I proceed with my insignificant vapourings, in the intervals of -copying two most interesting stories. I am not writing for your benefit, -but for the pleasure it gives me to babble a few tender words to you in -default of the kisses and caresses I cannot give you at this distance. - -My Victor, as you do not wish me to be sad, and hate to feel that I am -unhappy, and dread the sight of my pain, you must adopt the habit of -telling me everything frankly and under all circumstances. Your -deceptions, however trivial and kindly meant, hurt me far more than the -harshest of truths (if you were capable of harshness towards any -creature). I declare this without bitterness and in the form of an -appeal, my beloved. Do not hide anything from me. Try to manage that -your answers to the admiring letters certain women address to you, -should be written at my house rather than elsewhere. Do not delay -telling me things until I have guessed them for myself, or circumstances -have betrayed them. No hints can be unimportant where jealousy is -concerned, and there is no happiness without complete confidence. -Therefore, my beloved, I implore you with all the urgency my soul is -capable of, to tell me everything--even the ownership of those _opera -glasses_, and about the _Huegelmann_ notes, of which I have several here, -forwarded from Belle-Ile, and certain names and addresses; and about -those actresses you protect with so much solicitude, and the -machinations of the bluestockings who apply to you for mysterious -nocturnal interviews, under pretext of enlisting your pity or your -literary sympathy--about Mdlle. Constance, too, in spite of her -significant name and reassuring age. I want to know everything--I must -know everything, if you are really concerned for my peace of mind, and -health, and happiness. Then I shall become calm, patient, happy; my -pulse will beat evenly, I shall grow fat and smiling. Does not all that -make it worth while for you to be frank, loyal, and ever faithful -towards me? - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Monday, 1 p.m., March 22nd, 1852_. - -You may give me something to copy for you now if you like. I have nearly -finished that foolish scrawl, so if you want to utilise my time, you can -send me anything you like. I am quite at your disposal. Meanwhile, I am -mending your underlinen and my own, and watching the clouds sail above -my narrow horizon. I envy them without having the courage to follow -their example and allow myself to be driven by chance winds or caprice. -I am too lazy, bodily and mentally, to move. I recline in my chimney -corner, cosily humped up, and my soul lies torpid within me. I am not -exactly unhappy, neither am I sad in the true meaning of the word--but I -am uneasy and depressed. I feel a threatening influence in the -atmosphere about me. What it is, I cannot precisely say, but I am under -some evil thrall. I am sure there is a mystery between us that you are -trying to conceal, and that fate will force me to discover sooner or -later. Perhaps it would be safer not to try to hide things from me--it -would certainly be more loyal and generous; but as neither prayers nor -tears can induce you to give me your full confidence, I will await my -fate with resignation. After all, as long as you arrange your life to -suit your own feelings and tastes, I have no right to complain. I have -never meant to force myself upon you in any case; therefore, my Victor, -whatever happens, you may be sure I shall place no obstacle in the way -of your happiness and glory. I love you with all the pride of my -inferiority. - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Sunday morning, July 18th, 1852_. - -Good-morning, my Victor. I will do exactly as you like. So long as my -love is not called into question, what does it matter how, and when, my -body changes its _habitat_ and moves from Brussels to Jersey? Therefore, -my Victor, I make no objection to starting at the same time as you. -Between the pain of a twenty-four hours' separation, and the -mortification of travelling with you as a total stranger, my poor heart -would find it hard to choose. It is quite natural that I should -sacrifice myself to appearances, and respect the presence of your sons -by this painful incognito, but it seems cruelly unjust and ironical that -it should be required of my devotion and fidelity and love, when it was -never thought of in the case of that other woman, whose sole virtue -consisted in possessing none. For her, the family doors were always -open, the deference and courteous protection of your sons exacted; your -wife extended to her the cloak of her consideration, and accepted her as -a friend, a sister, and more. For her, indulgence, sympathy, -affection--for me, the rigorous application of all the penalties -contained in the code of prejudice, hypocrisy, and immorality. Honours -for the shameless vices of the society lady--only indignities for the -poor creature who sins through honest devotion and love. It is quite -simple. Society must be considered. I will leave for Jersey when and how -you will. - -I am quite ready to copy for Charles. I fear he may find my bad writing -more tiresome than useful, but I shall do my best, and I will get some -better pens. He had better send me the manuscript as soon as possible. -From now till then I am, my Victor, at your absolute disposal. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Thursday, 9 a.m., December 2nd, 1852_. - -Good morning, my divine, adored love. When one considers what the -infamous trap laid for you on December 2nd has inspired you to write, -one is tempted to give thanks to Providence. It almost seems as if that -dastardly crime had been committed for the aggrandisement of your -renown, and the better instruction of the nations. I do not think any -scoundrel will ever be found bold enough to repeat the offence, after -reading your fulminating poems. Just a year ago, on this day and at this -hour, I learnt the news of the _Coup d'etat_ through poor Dillon. -Knowing how closely it concerned me, the worthy creature rushed to my -house from the Faubourg St. Germain to warn me, and place her services -at my disposal, which meant at yours, for she is a brave, noble woman. -From that moment until the day I received your dear letter from Brussels -announcing your safety, I lived in a state of nightmare. I only woke -again to life and happiness when I found myself in your arms on the -morning of December 14th in the Customs shed at Brussels. Since then, my -beloved Victor, my sublime Victor, I have never let a day pass without -thanking God for rescuing you so miraculously, nor have I ceased for one -minute to admire and adore you. - -JULIETTE. - -[Illustration: DRAWING BY VICTOR HUGO, SIGNED "TOTO." - -Unpublished, belonging to the Author.] - -[Illustration: THE FLOWER AND THE BUTTERFLY. - -Drawing by Victor Hugo for Juliette (Victor Hugo Museum).] - - -JERSEY, -_Friday, 9 a.m., December 3rd, 1852_. - -Good morning, my life, my soul, my joy, my happiness. - -Dear adored one, from yesterday until the 14th of this month, there is -not a moment that does not recall to me the dangers you were exposed to -a year ago,[104] and the terrors and inexpressible anguish I endured all -through those awful ten days. A year ago, at this very hour of the -morning, you stood in the Faubourg St. Antoine, alone, holding and -challenging a frantic mob lost to all sense of reason and restraint. I -can see you now, my poor beloved, calling upon the soldiers to remember -their duty and their honour, threatening the generals, withering them -with your contempt. You were terrible and sublime. You might have been -the Genius of France witnessing in an agony of bitter despair, the -accomplishment of the most cowardly and despicable of crimes. It is an -absolute miracle that you escaped alive from that spot which echoed with -the solitary force of your heroic fury. When I think of it I still feel -terrified and dazzled. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Saturday, 8 a.m., November 27th, 1852_. - -Good morning, my poor flayed, mutilated darling. How I pitied you -yesterday during the long-drawn-out massacre of your masterpiece,[105] -which however, like an Immortal, emerged from the ordeal finer and in -better fettle than ever. As for me, my treasure, I could only admire and -envy your heroic impassivity in the face of that frightful profanation. -I could hardly sit still, so vexed and irritated did I feel at the -audacity of those wretched strolling mountebanks. Yet Heaven knows how -hard they must have worked to be even as ridiculous as they were. One -cannot be really angry with them, but it is impossible to recall them -individually without laughing till the tears run down one's cheeks. That -is what I have been doing ever since I came out of that horrible little -theatre, for I did not sleep very much. My thoughts were busy with you, -my adored one; I was seeing you again in imagination, handsome, young, -triumphant, as you were at the original performance of your _Angelo_. I -felt all the tenderness and adoration of those old days surging up again -in my heart. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Monday, 8 a.m., December 29th, 1852_. - -Good morning, my too-dearly loved little man. I am cleverer than you, -for I do not need lenses, paper, chemicals, and sunshine, to reproduce -you in every form within my heart. Love is a splendid stereoscope; it -throws all the photographs and daguerreotypes in the world, into the -shade. It can even, if the need exist, convert black jealousy into white -confidence, and force into relief the smallest modicum of happiness, -the slightest mark of love. That being so, I hardly know why I desire so -ardently to multiply your dear little pictures around me, unless it is -that I wish to compare them with those of my inner shrine. Whatever be -the reason, I do implore you, my dear little man, to give me one as soon -as possible; it will be such a pleasure to me. Meanwhile my poor -persecuted hero, I cannot tell what trials the future may have in store -for you, but as long as a breath of life remains within me, I mean to -expend it in defending, guarding, and serving you. My faith in the power -of my love amounts to superstition; I feel that so long as I care for -you, nothing irretrievably bad can happen to you. This is neither pride -nor fatuousness on my part; it is a sort of intuition that comes to me, -I think, from Heaven above. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_9 p.m., Thursday, January 6th, 1853_. - -If the soul could take visible shape, you would perceive mine at this -moment, my sweet adored one, bending over you and smiling. If kisses had -wings, you would feel them swooping about your dear little person in -clouds, like joyous birds upon a beautiful flowering bush. -Unfortunately, my soul and kisses have to pass and repass before you -invisible, and perhaps even unsuspected by you. But that does not deter -me, and I am drawn irresistibly to you by the need of living in your -atmosphere. My thoughts sit boldly at your side wherever you are. -However my chastened personality may bend under the contempt and -disdain of the world, my love rears itself proudly in the consciousness -of its superiority. While you leave my body standing outside, it enters -hardily with you and leaves you not. This may not be very tactful of me, -but it is the mark of an ardent and loyal heart. And after all we are -living "on an Island." I can see you, making eyes at your neighbour on -the left, and signalling to the one opposite. I want you to be mine -absolutely, body and soul, and I do not mean to share one little bit of -you with anybody. You must make up your mind to that, and content -yourself with enjoying the cosmopolitan cookery of that Hungarian -Lucullus.[106] I will allow you to gorge like four Englishmen and drink -like one Pole, but I shall not take my eyes off you and shall watch your -every movement. I think you laugh a great deal for a grave man with a -handsome mouth, and your hands are enough to bring a blush of envy to -the paws of all those exiled females! They suffer by comparison--so much -the better! Hold your tongue, drink, turn your head my way at once, and -keep it there. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Tuesday, 12.30 p.m., February 1st, 1853_. - -I really mean what I said just now, my dear little boy. Instead of -posing interminably in front of the daguerreotype,[107] you could quite -well have taken me for a walk if you had wanted to. Anyhow, pretexts for -keeping away from me will never fail you, and the fine weather will now -add many to those already on your list. Therefore I ask you in all good -faith, what use am I to you in this island, apart from my functions of -copyist? I do not wish to reopen this eternal discussion in which you -never tell me the truth, yet I shall never cease to protest against a -state of things so foreign to true love, and so little conducive to my -happiness. And now, my dear little man, you may amuse yourself, and make -daguerreotypes, and enjoy the glorious sunshine in your own way. I, for -my part, shall make use of solitude, desertion, and shadow, to bring to -a head an attack of depression which will easily develop into a great -big sorrow. I shall study how to make the most of it. Meanwhile I smile -prettily at you, after the fashion of a stage dancer executing the final -pirouette which has exhausted her strength and left her breathless. -Brrrr.... Long live Toto! Long live worries and all their kith and kin! -Long live love! - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Thursday, 9 p.m., April 28th, 1853_. - -I come to you, my beloved, as you are unable to return to me this -evening. I come to tell you I love you without regret for the past or -fear for the future. I come to you with a smile on my lips and a -blessing in my bosom, with my hand upon my mutilated heart and my eyes -full of pardon, with my purity restored and my soul redeemed by twenty -years of fidelity and love, with my delusions swept away and my faith -shining. I come to you without rancour, sustained by divine hope. I -come with the maternal devotion and the passionate tenderness of a -lover, with a mind instinct with reverence and admiration, a resignation -and piety like to those of God's martyrs, and I constitute you the -supreme arbiter of my fate. Do with me what you will in this life, so -long as you take me with you in the next. I sacrifice my feelings to the -virtue of your wife and the innocence of your daughter, as a homage and -a safeguard, and I reserve my prayers and tears for poor fallen women -like myself. Lastly, my adored one, I give you my share of Paradise in -exchange for your chances of hell, considering myself fortunate to have -purchased your eternal bliss with my eternal love. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Thursday, 5 p.m., July 7th, 1853_. - -Whatever you may say, my sweet one, to retard the gradual cessation of -my daily yarns, you cannot stay the progress of the natural law, even -when assisted by my passive submission to your will. Why continue this -custom of writing to you twice a day, when the pretext for doing so has -faded from our joint lives? If I were a woman of parts, I could -substitute imagination and shrewd observation for love-making; but as -these are entirely lacking in me, I have nothing to record in those -bulletins where kisses and caresses once occupied the chief place. Now, -when I have said good morning and alluded to the state of the weather, I -have nothing more to say, because I am stupid. Your influence alone can -extract what is in my heart. For this reason, my dear one, these -scribbles became blank and aimless, from the moment the happiness that -once dictated them began to die away and degenerate into a friendship -despoiled of all pleasure and voluptuousness. I do not reproach you, my -adored one, any more than I reproach myself for not being still the -woman you loved beyond everything--still it might be better to -discontinue this daily record of the change, and to give up the piteous -babblings which no longer have even the excuse of wit. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Saturday, 2.30 p.m., September 24th_. - -How one's brain scintillates from living for ever within four walls! -What sparkling and varied incidents one experiences in this existence of -a squirrel in a cage! For my part I am so inspired by it that I hardly -know where to commence. Let us, therefore, proceed in due sequence; my -cat, which has been slumbering for the last two hours on its right ear, -has just turned over on to its left. - -Pere Nicotte, abandoning the ploughshare, announces for Thursday, -September 29th, the sale by auction of three fat hogs, a sow with her -eight sucking pigs, three yearling bulls, another rising two, and other -items too numerous and too peculiar to enumerate. - -Births: August 5th. Blanche Laura, daughter of Mr. Harper Richard Hugo. - -The annual dinner of the Society will take place on the above-mentioned -day. Those intending to be present, and those proposing to furnish fruit -for the same, are urgently requested to send in their names on or -before the preceding Saturday. - -What more do you want? Eleven pigs, not including the sow, three -yearling bulls, not including the one rising two, a daughter of your -own, and permission to invite yourself to a dinner of the Society, and -even to furnish the fruit for it. If all this does not attract you and -stir the very marrow of your bones, and tempt your appetite, you must be -dead to the promptings of sensibility, paternity, and sensuality. In -that case, go to bed and to sleep, and leave me to myself--the more so, -as I do not happen to possess an accommodating table,[108] to furnish me -with ready-made apparitions. Remember, I have to be my own Dante, AEsop, -and Shakspere, whereas you catch the dead fish that the spirits of the -other world attach to your lines--a proceeding practised in the -Mediterranean long before those tittle-tattling tables were thought of. -Pray accept my most tender sentiments. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Sunday, 10 a.m., January 1st, 1854_. - -I love you so much, my darling, that I cannot find anything else to say -to you. My poor spirit is ready to give way under the weight of too much -love, like a bough bending under an abnormal show of fruit; but my heart -has strength enough to bear without flinching the infinite tenderness, -admiration, and adoration I feel for you. - -What a letter, my adored one! I read it with my heart in my eyes. It -seemed to penetrate word by word like sun-rays into the very marrow of -my bones. My Victor, your hopes are mine, your will, mine, your faith, -mine; I am what you deserve that I should be; I live only for you and in -you. To love you, serve you, reverence you, adore you, are my only -aspirations in this world. Where you are, I shall be; where you -struggle, I shall watch; when you suffer I shall pray, when you are -threatened I will defend you, save you, or die. I tell you all this -pell-mell and anyhow, my adored Victor, for it is impossible for me to -discipline my thoughts when they fly in your direction--they are less -amenable to common sense than to my heart and soul, which are in ecstasy -since this morning. I know not what trials may still be in store for -you, my sublime, persecuted love, but I can answer for my own courage -and devotion to you. Like you I associate our two angels with all my -prayers and hopes and joys and love. I constitute them your guardian -angels and to them I confide your life, that is, mine, your heart, that -is, my happiness. I send you enough kisses to make a connecting-rod from -my mouth to yours. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Monday, 7.30 p.m., July 21st, 1856_. - -It shall not be said that your adored name ever appeared before me in -its dazzling nimbus without being saluted by my heart with a triple -salvo of love, oh, my dearly beloved, and without the outpouring of all -the perfume of my soul at your divine feet. Although I am very tired, -almost ill, I cannot let this day pass without giving you my tenderest, -sweetest, most love-laden greetings. Others may bring you flowers and -pay you handsome compliments, but I offer you twenty-three years of -tried fidelity free of human stain. It is all I have to bestow--it may -be insignificant, but it is my all. Such a thing cannot be bought; it is -accounted among the treasures of God. In His keeping you will find it, -when the gifts of Heaven shall replace those of Earth. Meanwhile, to -show you that I still belong to this sphere, I send you my beautiful -violet robe brocaded with gold; but I specially stipulate that it should -form part of the decoration of your own room, rather than that you -should hang it in the gallery. Still, if you prefer to use it elsewhere -I leave you free to do as you like, for your pleasure is my sole desire. -You must not imagine that my generosity is entirely disinterested, -because that would be a great mistake. I am sure you would not wish to -remain in my debt, and that you will therefore give me a little drawing -for your birthday. This is my request--now bring me your cheeks that I -may kiss them without stint, and do be discreet to-night with the women -who will come to offer you birthday greetings! Keep your heart entire -and intact for me. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Friday, 1.45 p.m., December 12th, 1856._ - -Adored one, I am sending Suzanne to get news of your dear little sick -child.[109] Although night is coming on, I hope I may get a good report; -this weather is enough to give an attack of nerves to anybody at all -disposed that way. You saw Suzanne yourself, my darling, yet someone is -knocking--fancy if it should be you! It is! What happiness! - -How good, how ineffably good you are, dear kind father, to have come -yourself to reassure me about the little feverish symptoms that are -beginning to show themselves to-night in your little girl's condition. -Let us hope they will yield to remedies this time, and that the night -may prove more calm and satisfactory than the day just passed. Meanwhile -thank you with all my heart, thank you with all my soul, for allowing me -to share your family hopes and fears and joys and troubles. Thank you. -If God hears and grants my prayers, as I trust with sacred confidence He -will, your adored child will soon be restored to health and happiness. - -JULIETTE. - -GUERNSEY, -_Monday, 7.30 p.m., April 13th, 1857_. - -If you say another word I shall seize them all,[110] so there! I shall -certainly not place my house, my rooms, my old age, my tables, chairs, -carpets, water, ink, my virtue, great and small, at your disposal, to be -rewarded by seeing masterpieces pass under my very nose on their way to -Teleki, Mademoiselle Alix, and other trollops of her calibre. I must -have some too; castles, moonlight scenes, sunrises, and fog effects. If -you are not prepared for a quarrel, you must give me at least my share. -Ah, here you come! I am not sorry to see you.... - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Saturday, 4 p.m., July 1st, 1857_. - -Darling beloved, I begin my letter in the hope of its being interrupted -shortly, and completed this evening with a lighter heart; but I so need -to love you that I must take the initiative, my adored one. I have just -read the sad, tender poems you gave me to copy. I see you coming.... - -_8.45 p.m._ - -I have just finished copying those adorable verses, so poignant through -their very restraint,[111] and I weep for my own grief as well as yours, -my poor afflicted friends. The shadow which has fallen across your lives -is black night in my case, for all the radiant joys of family life were -wiped out with the death of my only child. When I think of my forlorn -infancy bereft of father and mother, and of what my deathbed will be, -without the loving tears of a child of my own, I feel as if a curse were -laid upon me for the expiation of some hideous crime. Yet, oh God, I am -not ungrateful to Thee, far from it; I feel indeed with the deepest -gratitude of heart and soul how good Thou art! May you be as greatly -blest as you are loved by me, my Victor. You are divinely grand and -sublime. I kiss your dear little feet and your angel's wings. I worship -you on my knees. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Tuesday, 2.30 p.m., July 2nd, 1857_. - -Yes, since you wish to hear it, I love you, my little man; but I could -demonstrate it much more intelligently by working something for you on -canvas, than by daubing this poor little sheet of paper with -hieroglyphics. If perchance death should surprise us before you have -destroyed these crude ebullitions of my heart, inquisitive folk will -experience keen disappointment; they will find it difficult to -distinguish the traces of an overmastering passion in such a petty mind -as mine. I hope you will be provident enough and generous enough to -spare me this humiliation beyond the grave, by burning gradually all -those poor letters that are so ineffective the moment they have crossed -the threshold of my soul. Meanwhile I continue to obey you with entire -submission, and my love for you is greater than your genius--that is to -say, I love you, love you, love you, without being able to find anything -to compare with the magnitude of my infatuation. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Saturday, 8 p.m., December 19th, 1857_. - -Although unwell and fatigued, my beloved Victor, I cannot leave this -little home where we have loved each other, without penning a grateful -farewell for all the felicity it has sheltered during the year I have -lived in it. I trust I may be as happy in my beautiful new house as I -have been here in my hovel. The sadness I feel to-day is nearer akin to -nerves than to real sorrow. Please forgive it, my adored Victor, if you -have misunderstood and thought for a single instant that you were to -blame for it. Far from reproaching you for the difficulties of my -situation, I admire your ineffable kindness and bless you from the -bottom of my heart for all the trouble you are taking to house me -handsomely. It was difficult, but of what are you not capable when you -set your mind to a thing? I think without affecting the false modesty of -a collector, that you have succeeded, and I thank you with all the -strength of my loving soul, which asks no better than to be happy in the -new paradise you have just prepared for me. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Friday, 11 a.m., July 16th, 1858_. - -My beloved, my beloved, my beloved, what sin have we committed that God -should strike us so cruelly in your health and my love! Unless it be a -crime to love you too much, I do not feel guilty of aught. What shall I -do, my God, what will become of me! Victor ill and away from me! I dread -lest, as I write, you should almost hear my sobs and guess at my -despair, from these reckless words. - -I had anticipated this trouble and thought myself able to face it. I -know it is imperatively necessary that you should remain at home, yet my -whole being rebels at this separation as at a cruel injustice, and the -greatest misfortune of my life. Why, why, why am I like this, oh, my -God? Yet I possess courage, Thou knowest! Thou knowest also that I -desire his speedy recovery and love him with a devoted, illimitable -love. My adored Victor! Why then, is the reason of this gloomy and -profound despair which robs me of strength and reason? Oh, God, dost -Thou hate me? Have my offences been graver than those of other women -like me, that Thou shouldst chastise me so mercilessly! Oh, I suffer, -Victor, I love you, I am wretched! - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Saturday, Noon, July 24th, 1858_. - -Another short spell of courage and patience, my poor gentle martyr, and -your deliverance will be complete. The doctor has just assured me so. I -shall soon be able to rejoice at your convalescence without the poignant -dread of a frightful disaster mingling itself with my joy. In the -delirious delight this good news gave me, I kissed the doctor's kindly -hands, which have become sacred to me since they have ministered to you. -The poor man was surprised and moved by my emotion, and looked quite -embarrassed--almost shy of my gratitude--but I was proud of it. Why -should not a woman kiss the hands that have saved the life of the man -she adores, when so many men kiss the idle fingers of the women who -betray them. - -Rosalie arrived a few minutes after the doctor, to fetch your egg, and -found me weeping and smiling. I explained the reason to her. The girl -has surprised me in tears so often that I fear she will take me for a -cry-baby by temperament, though God knows, I do not lay claim to -hyper-sensitiveness. But how could I have remained calm during your -long, painful illness. For, my beloved, one can afford to admit now, -that you have been in grave danger the last twelve days. Happily all is -over, you are saved and I thank God on my knees and adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Wednesday morning, August 4th, 1858_. - -At last, at last, at last, beloved, I have reached the blessed moment -when I shall see you again! I am so happy that words and breath fail me. -Oh, my adored one, how have I managed to live so far away and separated -from you for so long! Three weeks ago I should have thought such a -sacrifice beyond my strength, yet to-day I am almost afraid I am seeing -you too soon; for my solicitude takes fright at the idea of any -imprudence that might augment or prolong the sufferings you have only -just overcome. The worthy doctor assures me there is no risk for you in -the short walk from your house to mine, but I have been so wretched -during your illness, and I love you so much, that my heart knows not to -whom to hearken. My beloved, my joy, my life, my happiness, be prudent! -I adore you, I await you, my love. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Monday, 8 a.m., June 13th, 1859_. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET'S HAND.] - -Good morning, my adored one. I say it with all the tenderness which had -to be disguised owing to the presence of your kind and charming son, -during the lovely fortnight we have spent at Sark. Everything there was -a feast for mind and heart. One thing only was lacking for my complete -happiness; freedom to love you aloud and in all frankness. Now there -need be no obstacle to the passionate expansion of my soul, but it is in -the silence and solitude of my house, without the joys, smiles, -sparkling wit, and poetical atmosphere you and your son spread before -my dazzled eyes, during the splendid fortnight I spent with you both; so -true is it that one cannot have everything at the same time here below, -and that perfect happiness is attained only in Heaven. But while our two -souls are travelling thither, the one assisting the other, I am grateful -to God for the radiant fortnight He has just given me. I thank Him with -a full heart, and beseech Him to repay you and your dear Charles with as -many fruitful and glorious years as you have given me days of happiness -in the tender intimacy of Sark. As usual, my words are inadequate to -express my feelings, but you will understand, my beloved, and restore -the balance between the two. - -I hope you spent a good night, my sweet love. I am waiting for you to -give you as many kisses as you are able to carry. Until then I adore you -with all my soul. - - -_Tuesday, June 14th._ - -May God preserve you from all evil, my beloved, and permit my love and -blessing to constitute the whole happiness of your life. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Thursday, 4.30 p.m., February 16th, 1860_. - -You sat at this very spot just now, my sweet love, writing in my little -red book, (record of our love), the very things my own heart feels and -would have dictated to you, could it have spoken aloud--so certain is it -that my life belongs absolutely to you, and that my thoughts take birth -from your glances. Like you, I have faith in our radiant future in the -life beyond; like you, I pray to die as near you as possible, cradled in -your arms, whenever it please Heaven. If I hearkened only to the voice -of my selfishness, I should plead that it might be now, but I am too -conscious of the sublime mission you are called upon to accomplish -towards humanity in this world, to dare put up such an impious petition. -I will wait bravely, patiently, reverently, in prayer and adoration, -until it please God to call us unto Himself. - - -_Thursday evening, 7.30._ - -I resume my scribble where I left it when you came back this afternoon, -my darling beloved--not to add anything of value, but to continue for my -own pleasure the sweet dialogue between my heart and my love. I thank -you for our dear twenty-seventh anniversary, which you made memorable by -words so luminous and a tenderness so penetrating and sacred. I thank -you for myself, whose pride and joy and veneration you are; I thank you -on behalf of my nephew and his family, for the immense honour you have -conferred upon them by writing to their son. Lastly, my beloved, I kiss -your feet, your hands, your lips, your eyes, your brow, and I only cease -through fear of wearying you by this over-flow of caresses. - -I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -MONT ST. JEAN, -_Monday, 8 p.m., June 17th, 1861_. - -Dearly beloved. Whilst you are expanding among the tender delights of -family life, I am invoking all my physical and moral strength to -prevent myself giving way under the sadness of your absence. As long as -my eyes could distinguish the omnibus, that is to say, as far as the -_Betterave Renaissante_, I watched your progress along the Gronendael -road. Beyond that point, I was forced to relinquish the sweet illusion -that I could still see the dear little black speck on the horizon, and -to acknowledge that nothing lay before me but the endless void of your -twenty-four hours' absence. So, as I did not know what to do with myself -or how to kill time, I walked by a fairly easy field-path as far as the -church at Waterloo, and came back by way of the village, without however -visiting the church, notwithstanding the pressing invitation of an old -woman who called me her dear friend. I got back to the hotel at six -o'clock precisely, and spent the half hour before dinner freshening -myself up by washing from head to foot; then I put on a dressing-gown -and went down to our little dining-room, where I ate without hunger and -drank without thirst, so dismal and forlorn am I when you are no longer -present. I must have been pretty fully convinced of the impossibility of -accompanying you to Brussels without exposing your movements to -undesirable criticism, to accept the sad alternative of remaining here -alone. But that certainty is no comfort whatever, and I am just as -miserable as if it had been in my power to make the expedition with you. -Certainly, human respect is a horrid beast, more malevolent and worrying -than even midges and their poisonous sting, and all the ammonia in the -world is powerless against it. - -I am well fitted to make the comparison seeing that my arm is already -healed, while my heart suffers more and more. Dear adored one, do try, -on your part, to spend profitably this interval which is costing me so -dear. Be happy; I love you, bless you, and adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Tuesday, 8 a.m., February 17th, 1863_. - -Good morning, my beloved. In full daylight and glorious sunshine, in -love and happiness, good morning. Again I greet you, like that first day -thirty years ago, when my eyes followed you along the Boulevard after -you left me. My soul winged flights of kisses to you when you looked -round for one more glance at my window before turning into the Rue du -Temple. That picture remains for ever graven upon my mind; I can assert -with truth that everything remains the same in my heart as the night I -first became yours. These thirty years of love have passed like one day -of uninterrupted adoration, and I feel now younger, more virile, and -more capable of loving you, than ever before--heart, body, soul, all are -yours, and live only by you and through you. I smile upon you, bless -you, adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Sunday, 10.30 a.m., April 26th, 1863_. - -Good morning, unutterably dear one. May all the blessings of heaven and -earth rest upon you and those you love. I slept very well and hope you -did the same. My headache has gone and I feel as sturdy as an oak-tree. -I do not in the least desire a great house whence I shall not be able to -see you in the mornings, and I should much prefer to keep my own little -perch upon which my heart poises so happily while I watch you moving -about your home. Having made my protest, beloved, you shall dictate to -me the letter I must write to notify the landlord that he need not move -out to-morrow. We can settle when you come, what time I must be ready, -so as not to lose one second of our little walk up the hill. I am so -happy at the thought of remaining near you, that I feel as if I had -already substituted youthful wings for my old legs. Even my garden is -gay, and cries out to me by the mouths of its lovely flowers: _don't go -away_! Health is where happiness is, and happiness means loving each -other, side by side, eyes upon eyes, soul with soul. Therefore, I shall -stay here. That is quite settled. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Friday, 7.30 a.m., October 30th, 1863_. - -Good morning, good morning, and again, good morning, my dear, wide-awake -person. You must be very well to-day, judging by the energy with which -you are shaking your rugs to the four winds. I hope that signifies a -good night, good health, lively love, and all the rest of it. As for -myself, I slept little, but soundly. I got up before gun-fire this -morning, and had already finished my dressing when I saw you on your -balcony. What a privation it will be for me, my adored man, when I can -no longer watch you in the mornings, moving about your house. I do not -feel as if I should ever get accustomed to it, and I think of it with -apprehension, for there is a proverb that says, "Out of sight, out of -mind." If you gave up loving me, or worse, loved me less, what should I -make of life in that great empty drawing-room? - -At this moment, I am trying to numb these reflections by the -contemplation of the marvels you are creating in that future house of -mine; but at the bottom of my heart, I know I shall always mourn this -poor little lodging, where my eyes could watch over you, caress you, -guard you, preserve you, and adore you. The more I think of it, the more -oppressed I feel, and the more I blame myself for having exchanged the -happiness of every moment, for a comfort I shall hardly have leisure to -appreciate, and for health which did not require amelioration. My poor -beloved, forgive these regrets which are only dictated by love, and this -anxiety which also means love. Try not to let the separation of our -houses entail that of our hearts; try to love me as heartily there as -here, and do not let yourself be enticed away from me by anybody. On -those conditions I promise to live happily in the splendid rooms you -have prepared for me. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Wednesday, 1.30 p.m., June 15th, 1864_. - -Dearly beloved, I cannot forsake this little home where we have loved -each other for eight years, without imprinting a kiss of gratitude upon -its threshold. I have just gazed my supreme farewell at your beautiful -house, which has so long been to me the polar star of my heart's -wanderings. Alas, I am lengthening out the moments as much as possible; -I cannot bring myself to leave this dear little house, which I had made -the shrine of my cult for you. I should like to carry away the walls -against which you have leaned, the floors you have trodden, and even the -dust your feet have spurned. I fear lest my sadness be observed by those -who cannot understand it, and the efforts I make to seem unconcerned -increase the constriction of my heart, and drench my eyes with tears. -Oh, my adored beloved, how you will have to love me and give me all the -time at your disposal, to console me for the immense grief I am -experiencing to-day in quitting your neighbourhood, that is to say, in -losing sight of it! How you will have to double and treble and quadruple -your love, to replace the dear memories I leave behind me! May God -protect me and may the dear souls of our angels follow us to the new -home, and bless us till our last hour! - -I adore you. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Thursday, 5.30 a.m., June 16th, 1864_. - -Where are you, my beloved? My eyes seek you vainly, you are no longer -there to smile upon me; it is all over--I shall never again see the -little roost whence you used to blow kisses and wave your hand so -tenderly. I am alone now in my fine house, alone for ever; for there is -no further chance in this life of having you near me. I shall never -again live in your immediate intimacy, as I have done for the past eight -years. - -Loyally as you may endeavour to bridge over the distance between our -abodes by coming to me oftener in the day-time, the separation of our -two existences must ever endure. I know it by the blank depression I am -feeling this morning. I would give a hundred thousand houses and -palaces, and the universe itself, for that little slice of horizon where -my heart projected itself night and day. I am ashamed of having been so -mean-spirited as to barter my daily happiness against a chimerical -amelioration of health. I am punished for my transgression, my dearest. -I carry death in my heart. Forgive me! I would gladly smile at you, but -at this moment I feel incapable of doing so. Forgive me for loving you -too much. I hope you had a good night. I hope you gazed upon my dark, -empty house and gave it one sigh of regret. I hope you love me and are -conscious of my absence. May God preserve you from all evil, dearly -beloved, and may your love remain whole and intact in severance as in -propinquity. I bless you, and adore you. A kiss to all our dear -memories. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Sunday, 8.30 a.m., June 11th, 1865_. - -It would take very little to make me stay in bed till noon. I am ashamed -of myself and well punished, for I have not seen you this morning, and -have not yet heard whether you had a good or a bad night. I hope you -were clever enough to sleep uninterruptedly from the moment you laid -your head on the pillow, till that of your uprising. I shall be very -glad if I have guessed right. Meanwhile, my sweet treasure, I send you -a smile and a blessing. I am listening at this moment to the joyous -cheeping of my tiny chicks over a saucer of milk that has just been put -before them. I am also watching two white butterflies darting after each -other among my roses, like twin souls in Eden. The flowers are blooming, -love-making is going on all around, and my heart is overflowing with -tenderness and adoration for you. The further I progress in life, the -more I love you; you are the beginning and end of my being. I hope -everything of you, and my soul trusts you, all in all. You are my -radiant and divine beloved. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Sunday, 7.30 a.m., December 2nd, 1866_. - -Good-morning, my adored one, bless you. I can afford to smile on this -date, abhorred of all worthy folk: December 2nd.--because it is, for me -alone, a joyful anniversary. If my gratitude is an offence towards -humanity, I humbly ask pardon of God and man. I am tormented at the -thought that you may have slept badly. If I could be reassured on that -point, I should be quite happy this morning. Unfortunately, I can only -find out much later when you come here to bathe your dear eyes. The -mention of your eyes reminds me of your poor wife's sight. Surely, if -the doctors were not certain of curing her, they would not keep her so -long in Paris, away from all her belongings, in winter weather? My -desire for her complete recovery of a sense of which she has made such -noble use in her beautiful book _Victor Hugo, raconte_, makes me look -upon her delay in returning, as a happy presage of future recovery. I -ask it of Heaven, with love. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Wednesday, 8 a.m., January 1st, 1868_. - -I thank you, dearest, for letting me have a share in your prayers, when -you plead to God not to separate us in life or in death. It is what I -pray all day long; it is the aspiration of my heart and the faith of my -soul. I am not a devout woman, my sublime beloved, I am only the woman -who loves and admires and reverences you. To live near you is paradise; -to die with you is the consecration of our love for all eternity. I want -to live and die with you. I, like you, crave it of God. May He grant our -joint prayers! - -I feel as you do, my beloved, that those two dear souls hover above us -and watch over us and bless us. I associate them with all my thoughts -and sorrows and joys, and I place my prayers under their protection, -that they may convey them direct to the foot of the Great White Throne. -I bless them as they bless me, with all that is loftiest and holiest and -most sacred in my soul. I am stopping at almost every line of this -letter to read your adorable one over again, although I already know it -by heart. I kiss it, talk to it, listen to it, and then begin all over -again. I love you. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Thursday, 7 a.m., May 7th, 1868_. - -Dearly beloved, I am rather less worried since I have seen you and -exchanged a kiss with you; yet I know you slept badly. I can feel that -you are ailing and sad. I pray God to give you happiness again as soon -as possible, in the form of a second little Georges all smiling and -beautiful; meanwhile, I beg Him to let my love be the balm that will -heal your wounds, until the day of resurrection of the sweet child for -whom you weep.[112] - -I hope He will hear and grant my petitions on your behalf, and that you -will be restored to some degree of calmness and consolation. When you -write to your two dear sons, Charles and Victor, do not forget, I beg, -to thank them from me for the little portrait. Tell them I love them and -mingle my tears with theirs. - -I adore you, my great one, my venerated one, my sublime mourner. - -J. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Sunday, 7.30 a.m., August 2nd, 1868_. - -Again I have slept better than ever, beloved. I trust it has been the -same with you. I was very proud and pleased at my walk with you and your -family last night, but I felt somewhat shy and ill at ease. Please -permit me to decline any further invitations of the kind. Should the -occasion arise again, which is improbable, I think good taste and -discretion demand that I should hold myself aloof from your family -affections, and only associate myself with them at a distance, or in my -own home. As this feeling, or scruple, whichever you may like to call -it, could not be expressed in the presence of your dear children -yesterday, I consented to go with you, while intending to call your -attention privately to the embarrassment such an incident would cause -me, if it should happen again. I think you will probably agree with me, -and approve of my sacrificing my pleasure to your tender family -intercourse. - -J. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Wednesday, 8.30 a.m., August 26th, 1868_. - -My poor beloved, I pray God to spare you and your dear children the -misfortune which threatens you at this moment in the loss of your -angelic and adorable wife. I hope, I hope, I hope. I pray, I love you, I -summon all our dear angels above to her assistance and yours. I pray God -to make two equal shares of the days remaining to me, and add one to the -life of your saintly and noble wife. My beloved, my heart is wrung, I -suffer all you suffer twice over, through my love for you. I do not know -what to do. I long to go to you, I should love to take my share of the -nursing of your poor invalid, but human respect holds me back, and my -heart is heavier than ever. Suzanne has only just come from your house, -and I already want to send her back again, in the hope that she may -bring me less disquieting news than that which I have just received. Oh, -God have mercy upon us and change our anguish into joy! - - -BRUSSELS, -_Thursday, August 27th, 1868_. - -My beloved, in the presence of that soul which now sees into my -own,[113] I renew the sacred vow I made the first time I gave myself to -you; to love you in this world and in the next, so long as my soul shall -exist, in the certainty of being sanctioned and blessed in my devotion -by the great heart and noble mind which has just preceded us, alas, into -eternity. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Friday, 8 a.m., August 28th, 1868_. - -I placed your sleep last night under the protection of your dear one, my -beloved, and implored her to remove from your dreams all painful -memories of the sad day just past. I hope she heard me and that you -slept well. Henceforth, it is to this gentle and glorious witness of -your life in this world, now your radiant protectress in Heaven, that I -will appeal for the peace and happiness you require, to finish the great -humanitarian task to which you have pledged yourself. May God bless her -and you, as I bless her and you. - -The more I think over to-night's mournful journey, the more convinced I -feel that I ought not to take part in it. The pious homage of my heart -to that great and generous woman must not be exposed to a wrong -interpretation by indifferent or ill-natured critics. We must make this -last sacrifice to human malignity, in order to have the right to love -each other openly afterwards; do you not agree, my beloved? Afterwards, -may nothing ever come between us here below, nor above--such is my -ardent desire! - -J. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Friday, 5.30 p.m., August 28th_. - -My heart and thoughts are with you and your beloved dead. I am sad and -heart-broken, not for the angelic and sublime woman who now shines out -in the world of spirits while we here below regret her, but for you, my -poor sad man, to whom she was a holy and meek companion; for your dear -children whose joy and pride she was; for myself, to whom she was ever a -discreet and considerate protectress. - -My heart is torn by your grief, my poor afflicted ones; my eyes rain all -the tears you are shedding. Dear treasure, I beg your wife to obtain for -you the courage you need. May her memory remain with you, sweet and -gentle and benign as was her exquisite person in life. I entrust you to -her as I confide myself to you, and I bless you both. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Tuesday, 2 p.m., February 1st, 1870_. - -Since I have seen you, my great beloved, I am feeling much better. Your -smile has completed my cure. It may be an illusion of my eyes and heart, -but at this moment I seem to feel the breath of spring. Perhaps it -proceeds from the nearness of the anniversary of the first performance -of _Lucrece Borgia_, which is to be acclaimed and applauded by an -enthusiastic public to-morrow night, just as it was thirty-seven long -years ago. Bonaparte may do his best to-morrow against this magnificent -play, he will get no good out of his police-engineered cabal. I think he -will hardly dare risk such an infamous attempt, but I wish it was -already Saturday, that we might be quite easy. Meanwhile, I love you -after the fashion of Princesse Negroni. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Monday, 8.30 a.m., February 14th, 1870_. - -Good morning, my dearest. Did you sleep better last night, my great, -little man? Were you warmer? How are you this morning? It is indeed -tedious to have to wait until this afternoon to hear all this. I am -trying to moderate my impatience by doing things for you. I have already -selected your two eggs, put fresh water into your finger-bowl, and a -snow-white napkin on your plate. Suzanne is making your coffee, which -perfumes the whole house, while I trace these gouty old -"pattes-de-mouche," which are to lay all the tender nonsense of my heart -at your feet. I am beginning early, as you see, to be certain that they -arrive in time. The thaw has begun. I was quite hot in the night, though -I must admit I had taken measures to that end; so I slept excellently, -as you can judge by the state of my spirits. But what I really want you -to take note of is, that I adore you. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Saturday, 7.45 a.m., May 21st, 1870_. - -My heart, my eyes, my soul, are bewildered, my beloved, so overwhelmed -are they with tenderness, admiration, and happiness! What an adorable -letter, and what a marvellous surprise! How good you are to me! How -generous and charming! Words fail me, and the best I can say is: I love -you! I love you! I threw my arms around old Mariette's neck, and almost -embraced Marquand himself in the delirium of my delight. What a splendid -frame for that lovely little mirror! It contains everything: flowers, -birds, a shelf, little Georges' sweet face above, and your beautiful -verses for wings. How can I thank you adequately, or describe my -gratitude? Fortunate am I to have eternity before me in which to bless -you. I kissed my dear little letter before everybody, but I would not -read it until just now when I was able to bolt my door. I always read -you thus, my adored one. My soul demands privacy for the better -understanding of your sublime words, and I never finish the reading of -them without feeling transported with love and almost prepared for the -next world. I love you!! - -Mariette told me you had spent a very good night. Is it really true? I -slept capitally, too, and am feeling more than well. I have been looking -about for a place for my new treasure, but have not yet decided on one. -I shall leave it to you to choose its proper place in my museum of -_souvenirs_. Meanwhile, I have covered it away from the dust and put it -in the shady drawing-room. As soon as I have read your adorable little -letter again, I shall go back and have another look at it. - -J. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO, BY RODIN.] - -GUERNSEY, -_Friday, 5 a.m., August 18th, 1870_. - -At all hazards I must send you my morning greeting, though I trust you -are sleeping too soundly to hear it. You have slept so little and so -badly for many nights, that it would be only fair that this night -should be long and good. As for me, I hardly slept at all, but I do not -mind and am hardly surprised, as it is a habit of mine. But the thing I -feel I cannot become inured to, is the apprehension of the perils you -are about to encounter on your journey to Paris, ranging from the loss -of your wealth to the death of your love for me--either would finish me. -I think with terror of the tortures of all kinds I shall undergo there; -my courage fails me and craves mercy in anticipation. I have fought all -night against the wicked temptation to desert my post in a cowardly -manner before even meeting the enemy--not an enemy that can be fought -with fire and blood, but one that stabs you smiling. But I have not even -the courage of cowardice; I am ready to suffer a thousand deaths if only -I can preserve you from a single danger. You must live at any cost, that -you may be enabled to complete your glorious task, and be happy, no -matter how or with whom. My duty is to devote myself to that end, -whatever betide. If I go under in the execution of it, so much the worse -for me, or possibly, so much the better. To serve you and love you is my -mission in this world--the rest does not concern me. - -J. - - -_Thursday morning, July 20th, 1871_. - -This is your patron-saint's day, my great beloved. Others will -congratulate you with flowers and music and expressions of admiring -gratitude and emotion, but nobody will love you more than I do, or bless -and adore you as you deserve to be loved, blessed and adored! - -I hope this anniversary may be the beginning of a new year less sinister -and sad than the last, and that your dear grandchildren will give you as -much joy and happiness as you have had sadness and misfortune in the -past. I say this hastily, as best I can, with emotion in my old heart -and thrills of joy in my soul. As I sit scribbling, I hear your voice -calling me and I rush towards you just as in the early days of our love. - -I kiss your hair, your eyes, your lips, your hands, your feet. I adore -you. - -JULIETTE. - - -PARIS, -_Thursday, 10.15, January 18th, 1872_. - -Good morning, my great and venerated one. I kiss one by one the wounds -of your heart, praying God to heal those that ache worst. I beg Him to -give me strength to help you carry your heavy cross to the end. I ask -Him, above all, to give me that which, alas, is lacking in my nature, -namely, that infinite gentleness without which the most perfect devotion -is unavailing. Since the day before yesterday, my poor, sublime martyr, -my heart has been wrung by the new blow that has fallen upon you,[114] -and I weep helplessly, without power to check my tears. God Who gave you -genius makes you pay heavy toll for that favour, by overwhelming your -life with the pangs of sorrow. My beloved, I beg you to tell me how I -may serve you. I will do anything you desire. I will use my whole heart -and strength in your service. - -I love you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_8 a.m., Monday, February 26th, 1872_. - -This is your birthday, beloved--the anniversary of anniversaries, -acclaimed in Heaven by the great men of genius who preceded you upon -earth, and blessed by me ever since the day I first gave myself to you. -We used to celebrate it with all the sweetest instruments of love; -kisses, words of endearment, letters, all were pressed into service to -make this date, February 26th, a perfume, an ecstasy, a ray of sunshine. -To-day these winged caresses have flown to other realms, but there -remains to us the solemn devotion that better becomes the sacred -marriage of two souls for all eternity. In the name of that devotion I -send you my tenderest greetings and beg you to let me know how you spent -the night. I hope your little breach of regulations yesterday did not -prevent you from sleeping. As for me, I slept little, but I am quite -well this morning, thanks to the influence of this radiant date. I ask -little Georges and little Jeanne to kiss you for me as many times as you -have lived minutes in this world. My dearly beloved, I bless you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Saturday, 2 p.m., April 13th, 1872_. - -This is a day of sunshine: God, in His Heaven above, and little Jeanne -under my roof. I hardly know--or rather, perhaps I do know which is the -brighter of the two, but I am not going to tell you, for fear of making -you too proud. What a beautiful day, and what an adorable little girl! -But what a pity we cannot all enjoy these spring-time delights together, -walking and driving, in town and country-meadows. I am really afraid the -good God will weary of us and pronounce the fatal dictum: "IT IS TOO -LATE" when at last we make up our minds to take our share of life, -sunshine, and happiness. The terrible part is that whether innocent or -guilty we shall all suffer alike for _your_ transgression, for divine -justice is very like that of man. As for me, I enter my protest from my -little retreat, but it serves no purpose except that of an idle pastime; -it does not even keep me from adoring you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 12 noon, November 18th, 1873_. - -My beloved, I do not desire to turn your successes into a scourge for -your back, but I cannot help feeling that my old-fashioned devotion cuts -a sorry figure amongst the overdressed _cocottes_ who assail you -incessantly with their blandishments and invitations. This fantastic -chase has gone on for a long time without extorting from you any sign of -weariness or satiety. As for me, I long only for repose--if not in this -life (which seems difficult in my case to obtain), then in the -immobility of death, which cannot long be delayed at the pace I am -going. I ask your permission to begin preparing for it by giving up my -daily letters. That will be something gained; the rest will come -gradually, little by little, till one fine day we shall find ourselves -quite naturally on the platform of indifference, or of reason, as you -will prefer to call it. From to-day on, therefore, I place the key of my -heart on your doorstep, and will wander away alone in the direction of -God. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Friday, 11.15 a.m., December 26th, 1873_. - -Dear adored one. All your desires in life, as well as mine, are granted -to-day if your dear Victor has spent a good night, as I hope. I am -anxiously waiting for Mariette's return to know how the dear invalid -is.... - -My poor beloved, I am in despair--I have just seen Mariette, who tells -me that your poor son is in high fever at this moment.[115] I do not -know how to tell you; I do not think I shall have the strength to do so. -Dr. See has been sent for and Mariette has just gone back to hear what -he thinks of this relapse. Oh, Heaven have mercy on us! I hardly dare -breathe or even weep, so greatly do I dread betraying to you the -misfortune which threatens you, my beloved. How can I ward off the fate -that is hanging over you? What can I say or do? My brain reels! Ought I -to tell you everything--would it be wrong to conceal from you the -imminent sorrow that is going to wring your heart once more? I know not, -but I lack the courage either to speak or to be silent; I am in despair, -yet I dare not make moan. I suffer, I adore you. Pity me, as I pity you. -Let us love each other under this cruel trial, as we should if Heaven -were opening its gates to us. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Monday, 5 o'clock p.m., December 29th, 1873_. - -Go, dearest, try to find in a solitary walk, which may prove fruitful to -the world, some solace for the painful agitation of your heart. My -thoughts follow you lovingly and bless every one of your steps. Do not -worry about me in the new arrangements of your life. Whatever you settle -shall be accepted by me. For forty-one years I have followed that -programme, and I will do so now, more than ever. Provided you love me as -I love you, I desire nothing more from God or you. The advice I give -you, apart from my own personal concerns, is always practical and in -your own interest and that of your dear grandchildren. I should feel I -had failed in my duty if I kept the least of my ideas from you, whether -good or bad, insignificant or stupid. I love you and adore you, body, -heart and soul. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 12.30 p.m., February 17th, 1874_. - -Dear one, there is rather more bustle about us than usual on this our -sweet and sacred anniversary. We have the little excitement of your two -adorable grandchildren, which we had not expected, but which is all the -more delightful for that. The perfection of happiness would have been to -take them ourselves to that famous circus which little Georges already -knows, and little Jeanne dreams of; but the bad weather and the remains -of my influenza counsel a pusillanimous prudence. It is not without -regret, beloved, that I impose this sacrifice of one of our most -precious joys upon you, but I feel I cannot do otherwise to-day. As for -the dear little things, their pleasure will, fortunately, not be marred -in any way. So long as they can revel in the antics of Mr. and Mrs. -Punch and their august family, they will not mind whom they go with. -That being the case, Mariette is a sufficient escort to the promised -land of Auriol and Punch. - -As for ourselves, dearest, I trust that our two souls, communing -together, will not miss those fascinating little witnesses of our love -over much. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Wednesday, 7 p.m., March 11th, 1874_. - -He whose heart is younger than his years suffers all the sorrows of his -age. This aphorism contains in a few words the secret of the turmoil I -involuntarily bring into your life, while I myself suffer like a soul in -damnation. Still, I must not allow this ridiculous folly to be an -annoyance to you; I must and will get the better of it, and leave you -your liberty, every liberty, especially that of being happy whenever and -however you like. Otherwise, my poor beloved, you will very shortly come -to hate the sight of me. I know it, and it terrifies me in anticipation. -So I am determined to crush my heart at all costs, that I may restore -peace and happiness to yours. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Saturday, 1.45 p.m., April 4th, 1874_. - -I thank you dear one, for having been loyal enough to tell me this -morning that you had written another poem to Madame M. I thank you also -for having offered to read it to me, and not to send it to her till -afterwards. I accepted this respite in the first instance, but I -realised later that _what is delayed is not lost_, and that I should -gain nothing by struggling against being bracketed with this _statue -inhabited by a star_, and that I was simply putting myself in the absurd -position of the ostrich that tries to avert danger by hiding his head in -the sand. Therefore beloved, I beg you to act quite freely, and to send -the verses dedicated to your beautiful muse whenever you like. Once the -poetry has been written, it is quite natural that you should intoxicate -each other without consideration for me. Besides, in my opinion, -infidelity does not consist in action only; I consider it already -accomplished by the sole fact of desire. That being settled, my dear -friend, I beg you to behave exactly as you like, and as if I were no -longer in the way. I shall then have leisure to rest from the fatigues -of life before taking my departure for eternity. Try and be happy if you -can. - -J. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1877.] - -PARIS, -_Thursday, 7 a.m., April 11th, 1874_. - -Permit me, my great beloved, to offer you my three-score years and ten, -freshly completed this morning. Give the poor old things a friendly -reception, for they are as blazing with love for you now, as if they had -only been born yesterday. I commission little Jeanne to give you -seventy million kisses for me to-day, not one less, but a few more if -she likes. I hope little Georges' nose has not bled since yesterday, and -that he slept well like the rest of you. I slept like a top, and am -splendid this morning. I feel a degree of youthfulness that must proceed -from the seventy springs I have absorbed so freely. The sky itself -contributes its birthday greeting by pouring its measure of sunshine -upon us. Therefore, long live love, for us in the first place, (for a -little selfishness will not harm happiness,) and in the second, long -live love for all whom we love. May you be blest, my beloved, in all -those you care for. I adore you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Thursday, 10.45 p.m., May 7th, 1874_. - -Dear, dear one, the separation I dreaded as a veritable calamity is now -an accomplished fact. God grant it may not be the beginning of the end -of my happiness. My heart is full of sad presentiment. The distance that -separates us is like a broken bridge between our hearts, over which -neither joy nor hope may pass henceforth. I cherish no illusion; from -this evening forward, all intimacy between us is over, and my sweet -horizon of love is for ever clouded. I try to give myself courage by -reflecting that the happiness I lose is gained by you in the affection -of your two dear grandchildren. I tell myself that this compensation -should be sufficient for me; still I am in despair, and I can hardly -help shedding floods of tears, as if some irreparable misfortune had -befallen me when you walked away just now. I accustomed myself far too -speedily to a happiness that was only lent to me for a little while. -But however short-lived it proved, I bless you, and pray God to turn my -regrets and sorrow into a future of joy and kisses and ecstasy for you -and your two little angels. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_9.30 a.m., Sunday, June 21st, 1874_. - -I had hoped that nothing would happen to disturb the sanctity of this -sad anniversary,[116] and had counted on the assistance of the angels of -death to defend me from the aggressions of the devils of life. Alas, I -was sadly at fault, for never was a more audacious or more cynical -attempt made against my peace of mind. One might think that the mangled -remains of my poor heart were a target for the arrows of those -emissaries of vice! I declare myself vanquished without a fight, and ere -my reason finally succumbs, I mean to place my bruised heart in shelter, -far from the flattering intrigues of which you are the fortunate hero. - - -_3 p.m._ - -You wish me not to be anxious, not to relinquish a tussle in which I am -unarmed? It is more generous than wise on your part, for what happened -to-day, happened yesterday, and will again to-morrow, and I have no -strength left, either physical or moral. This martyrdom of Sisyphus, who -daily raises his love heavenward only to see it fall back with all its -weight upon his heart, inspires me with horror, and I prefer death a -thousand times over, to such torture. Have mercy upon me! Let me go! It -shall be wherever you will. Do not run the risk for yourself and me of -my committing some frightful act of folly. I ask you this in the name of -your daughter and mine--in the name of little Georges and your dear -little Jeanne. Give me a chance to recover from these reiterated -attacks. I assure you it is the only remedy possible, or capable of -effecting my cure. You will hardly notice my absence; the children of -your blood, and those of your genius, and the rest, will easily fill the -void of my absence, and meanwhile I shall regain calmness. I shall -become resigned and perhaps be cured, and in any case it will be a -respite for you as well as for me. I assure you my treasure, that it -will be a good thing for you. I beg you to let me try it. The abuse of -love, like the abuse of health, brings suffering and death in its train. -The soul may have a plethora, as well as the body. Mine suffocates under -its own weight. Let me try to lighten it in solitude and the -contemplation of our past happiness. I beg and implore it of you--I ask -it in the name of those you mourn and love. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Monday, 6 p.m., February 16th, 1875_. - -My dearest, your letter burns and dazzles me, and I feel humbled by it, -because physically I know myself to be so far beneath your ideal; but -morally, when I look inward and see my soul as your love has transformed -it, I am arrogant enough to think myself above it, and to have no fear -of the moment when I may reveal to you its resplendent purity in the -eyes of God. Pending this, sublime and divine treasure of mine, you -must shut your eyes to the sad reality of my old, sickly body, and await -with patience the rejuvenation promised in Heaven. I pray God to allow -me to live as long as you, because I do not know how I could exist a -single minute without you, even in Paradise with our holy angels. I hope -He will grant my ardent prayer, and that we shall die and rise again -together on the same day and at the same hour. To ensure this, I must -put my health on a level with yours, which will be difficult, for I am -very feeble. I try to, every day, without much success so far, but I am -counting on the spring to give me a push up the hill, so that I may -continue to pace the road at your side. This evening, if nobody comes, -and if Madame Charles leaves us early, I shall beg you to let me do _Le -Passus_ with you. I should like to celebrate the day by something brave -and wholesome. I hope I shall manage it. I love you, bless you, and -adore you. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Tuesday, 7.45 a.m., April 21st, 1875_. - -Good morning my great, good, ineffable, adorable beloved. I pray Heaven -to bless you in Heaven as I bless you here below. I hope you slept as -well as I did, that you bear me no grudge for the irritability born of -excessive fatigue, and that you do not love me less on account of it. My -confidence in your inexhaustible indulgence lends me courage to proceed -with the sad business that brought me here.[117] The thought that we -shall never return to these houses of ours, where we loved and suffered -and were happy together, makes my heart as heavy as if we were already -attending our funerals. This fresh break between the sweet past of our -love and the short future that remains to us in this life, makes the -present very painful. But I am not unthankful for the compensations that -await us in Paris in the society of your dear grandchildren--far from -it! I shall smile upon them and bless them with my last breath, as the -tangible angels of your happiness and mine. I am doing my best to be -ready to start on Tuesday morning. I regret not being able to carry away -every relic of our love, from the soil of the garden, to the air you -breathe. By the way I have a petition to make to you, but am ready to -submit to a refusal if you do not approve of granting it. I want you to -allow me to give Louis the two splendid drawings of St. Paul and the -Cock, which are really mine to dispose of, since you gave them to me -long ago. Some mementoes are more prized by an heir than mere money, and -I should like to leave these from you to my kind and worthy nephew, if -you consent. Meanwhile, as I said before, I will bow to a refusal, even -if you give me no reason, for I adore you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 7.45 a.m., October 5th, 1875_. - -Good news from your dear little travellers. The top of the morning to -you, and long live love! The telegram, which came after I was in bed, -that is to say after eleven o'clock, is dated from Genoa, and says they -arrive the day after to-morrow at Madame Menard's, and will write at -once from there. Meanwhile they send you thousands of kisses, of which -I make bold to reserve a share, before being quite certain that I am -meant to do so. This long delayed arrival in France heralds their speedy -return home, which is not at all displeasing to me--_on the contrary!_ -My gaze, night and morning, at their dear little portraits in no degree -replaces their kisses, their sweet faces, and the joyous little shrieks -one hears all day long. At last we are touching the end of our long -abstinence and shall soon be able to devour them whole. Meanwhile I -continue to feed upon your heart, to whet my appetite. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Sunday, 5 p.m., November 21st, 1875_. - -Dear beloved, your promise to take me every day to Versailles, if you -are obliged to return to the Assemblee, fills my heart with such joy -that I have been humming all the merry songs I used to sing. It is long -since I have done such a thing. What would it be if some lucky event -sent us all back to Guernsey, never to leave it again ... or at least, -not for a very long time! What enchantment, what a starlit dream, if God -were to give us that bliss a second time! I think I should promptly -return to the age I was when I received your first kiss. Fortunately for -France, God will not grant this selfish wish, but He will forgive me for -entertaining it I hope, for I cannot help loving you beyond everything -in this world, and it does not hinder me from being satisfied with -whatever happiness He is pleased to vouchsafe, so long as you are -content, and love only me, who adore you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 8 a.m., April 25th, 1876_. - -My treasure, I pray God not to separate us in this life or the next. -That is why I am anxious to be with you in the crowd that will rush to -see and hear you at the cemetery to-day.[118] I know by experience that -your enthusiasm borders on imprudence, so I want to press my body to -yours as closely as our souls are riveted, so that whatever befalls you -on this sad occasion, may include me. As the love animating our hearts -is identical, it is only fair that our fate should be the same. I wish -this evening were safely over, that I might be satisfied that everything -has gone off well; for I am afraid if poor Louis Blanc attends the -mournful ceremony in his present state of ill-health and weakness, he -may not be able to get through it. I shall not be easy until we are at -home again. Meanwhile I pray Heaven and our angels above to watch over -you and preserve you from all danger. I bless, love, and adore you, for -all eternity. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Wednesday, 7.30 a.m., April 26th, 1876_. - -I thank you with sacred emotion, my dear one, for your inclusion of me -in the sublime and magnificent exordium you pronounced yesterday on the -noble wife of Louis Blanc. I accept it without false modesty, because I -feel I deserve it, and I am proud and grateful for this ante-apotheosis -you made of me, a living woman, standing at the open grave of the -devoted deceased. I am sure her spirit will not have grudged it, and -that she blesses you from above, as I do from below, joining her prayers -to mine, that God may grant all grace and divine consolation to those we -love. I have already re-read your splendid oration many times to-day, -and although I know it by heart, each repetition discloses some fresh -beauty in it. My one cry is: I love you! I love you!! I love you!!! All -my heart and soul are contained in those words: I love you. - -J. - - -_Monday, 10 a.m., November 11th, 1878._ - -No, my beloved, you have no right to endanger your precious health and -risk your glorious life for nothing. "Art for art's sake" is not -permissible in your case, and we shall oppose it strenuously, even at -the risk of curtailing your liberty. I am sorry, but there it is--you -must make up your mind to it. There are plenty of useless men in this -world who may waste their lives as they like, but you must guard and -preserve yours for as long as it pleases God to grant it to you for the -honour and happiness of humanity. So, my dear little man, I implore you -not to repeat yesterday's imprudence, or any other, for all our sakes, -including your adorable grandchildren's and mine whose health and life -and soul you are. When I see you so careless of yourself I cannot help -feeling you no longer love me, and that my continued presence is so -wearisome to you that you want to be rid of it at any price. Then I -am seized with a desperate longing to deliver you of me for ever, rather -than be the involuntary accomplice of your repeated suicidal acts, which -have been ineffectual so far, not through your fault, but because God -intends you to go on living, for His greater glory and your own. May His -will be done. Amen. - -J. - -[Illustration: THE DEATHBED OF VICTOR HUGO. - -Victor Hugo Museum.] - -[Illustration: A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET. - -The writing reads thus: "A la Juliette de Victor Hugo, plus charmante et -plus aimee que la Juliette de Shakespeare." The original belongs to M. -Louis Barthou.] - -VILLEQUIER, -_Friday and Saturday mornings, September 12th and 13th, 1879_. - -A double letter, my beloved; to-day's and yesterday's, which, for want -of paper, pens and ink, I was not able to send you at the proper time, -in spite of the inexhaustible fount of my love. This morning being -better provided, I can let myself go in the happiness of being with you -in the house of your respected friends,[119] enjoying their tender and -devoted hospitality. I am proud and yet shy of sharing it with you; -proud, because I think myself worthy, shy because I do not know how to -thank them or to prove my gratitude. Fortunately the honour and pleasure -of your presence is reward enough for those you esteem, and from whom -you accept this filial friendship, admiration, and devotion. I express -myself badly, but you are accustomed to grasp my meaning, in spite of -the lapses of my pen; so I never worry about the confusion of my -scribbles, and I end them imperturbably, as I begin them, by the sacred -words: I love you. I did not venture to ask your permission yesterday to -accompany you on your pious pilgrimage,[120] but I add the prayers I -addressed to God and your dear dead, to the sacrifice I was forced to -make to appearances. If you allow me, I shall go before we leave -Villequier, and kneel beside those venerated tombs, to offer under the -open sky my profound respect and eternal benediction. I shall only do it -if you consent, for I should not like to offend against good taste by -the outward manifestation of the sentiment I cherish in my heart for -your dear dead relations. I know you slept well--thanks evidently to the -calm and happy life your friends provide for you in their circle, for -which I thank and bless them from the bottom of my heart. I do not know -whether the weather will be favourable to-day for the excursion we -planned; it is foggy so far, but whatever be the state of the barometer, -I am disposed to be quite happy if you are, and to adore you without -conditions of any kind. By the way, how are you going to evade the -attentions of the mayor and corporation of Le Havre without hurting the -feelings of the poor workmen who implore you to go amongst them while -you are in their neighbourhood? It is not an easy problem to solve. -Luckily nothing is a difficulty to you--nor to me either when there is -any question of loving you with all my might from one end of life to the -other! - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Monday, 7 a.m., May 30th, 1880_. - -How beautiful, how grand, how divine!!! I have just finished that -glorious reading, and am electrified by the elixir of your ardent -poetry; my fainting soul clings to your mighty wings, to arrest its fall -from the starry heights in which you plane, to the profound abyss of my -ignorance. I was afraid I might disturb your sleep by the rustling of -the leaves as I cut and devoured them greedily, never noticing that -night was turning into day. Finally, fearing to be caught by you, I -dragged myself unwillingly to bed at three o'clock, and have now already -been up an hour, in triumphant health, rejuvenated by the virility of -the thoughts your inexhaustible genius pours forth without intermission -before a dazzled and grateful humanity. My hand shakes from my inward -tremor, and it is with difficulty that I finish this poor little cry of -admiration. Even my voice, if I tried to speak at this moment, could -hardly stammer out my adoration. I am in the throes of a kind of -delirium which would be painful, were it not as exquisite as the divine -love which overflows from my heart. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 8 a.m., November 2nd, 1880_. - -Beloved, Heaven decrees that in the absence of your dear departed souls, -your sweet angels here below should be restored to you to-day. Let us -bless Him with all reverence, and be solemnly happy with the memory of -those who once made our felicity, and the kisses of your adorable -grand-children, who constitute your present and future content. What joy -it is to see them once more, lovelier than ever if possible, and in -still better health. All night I listened to every sound, that I might -be the first to welcome them on the threshold. I succeeded, and was -repaid by their hugs. The sun shot forth its brightest beams in their -honour. As for you, divine grandpapa, I trust your horrid cold will -yield to the tender caresses that await you, and that we shall have you -with us in our enjoyment. The least we can hope for is an indulgence in -unlimited caresses, after these three months of separation. I make a -start by flinging myself into your arms. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 9 a.m., December 14th, 1881_. - -I come to fetch my heart where I left it, that is to say in yours. I -return it to you, praying you not to bruise it over much by unjust and -wounding tyrannies. My independent, proud nature has always borne them -ill, and is now in revolt. I beg you beloved, not to constitute yourself -the critic of my little personal needs. Whatever I may ask, I assure you -I shall never exceed the bounds of necessity, and never will I take -unfair advantage of your trust and generosity. The position you have -given me in your household precludes me from placing myself at a -disadvantage in the eyes of your guests by an appearance not in -consonance with your means. Therefore, please, dear great man, leave it -to my discretion to do honour to you as well as to myself. Besides, the -little time I have to spend on earth is not worth haggling about. So, my -great little man, let us be good to each other for the rest of the time -God grants us to live side by side, and heart to heart. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Sunday, Noon, July 10th, 1881_. - -My dear beloved, I must first of all confess the fault (if it be one) I -committed yesterday under the influence of the universal enthusiasm -occasioned by the glorious ovation offered to you, so that you may -forgive it, even if you see fit to punish me. This is my crime. Whilst -you, still in the full flood of your emotion, were thanking the -enthusiastic crowd, the councillors of our district approached to -congratulate you and at the same time to beg for money for their -schools. Madame Lockroy sent them forty francs by Georges. Failing to -attract your attention, though they stood behind you, intent upon -presenting their money-boxes themselves, they turned to me. In my -agitated surprise, I handed them the hundred-franc note I was saving up -for my birthday. I gave the note in your name, at the same time -reminding them they had already received five hundred from you the day -before, through their mayor. He, happening to be present, confirmed my -statement. This is my transgression; if you deem it deserving of -severity you need not refund the money. If you take into account the -delirium and excitement of the occasion you will smile and give me back -my poor little mite of which I have great need. In any case you must not -scold me too much, for I am very sensitive. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 8 a.m., June 21st, 1882._ - -Beloved, thank you for taking me to-day to the mournful and sweet -_rendez-vous_ of St. Mande. I feel as if my sorrow would be less bitter, -kneeling at my child's grave than when I am at a distance ... as if my -soul could get closer to that of my little beloved, through the earth of -her tomb, than anywhere else. I hope you will find your dear daughter -in good health, and that we shall both return from this sacred errand -resigned to the will of God, though not consoled, for that is no longer -possible in this world. Thank you again, my adored one, for sharing with -me the sad anniversary that recalls to you the many sorrows of your own -life. I am very grateful to you, and I bless you as I love you, with all -the strength of my soul. - -J. - - -_Monday, January 1st, 1883._ - -Dear adored one, I do not know where I may be this time next year, but I -am proud and happy to sign my life-certificate for 1883 with this one -word: I love you. - -JULIETTE.[121] - - - - -APPENDIX - -I. LIST OF THOSE OF VICTOR HUGO'S POEMS WHICH WERE INSPIRED BY JULIETTE -DROUET.[122] - - -A. _LES CHANTS DU CREPUSCULE_ - -XIV. Oh! n'insultez jamais (September 6th, 1835). - -XXI. Hier la nuit d'ete (May 21st, 1835). - -XXII. Nouvelle chanson sur un vieil air (February 28th, 1834). - -XXIII. Autre chanson. - -XXIV. Oh! pour remplir de moi (September 19th, 1834). - -XXV. Puisque j'ai mis ma levre (January 1st, 1835). - -XXVI. Or Mademoiselle J. (March 1st, 1835). - -XXVII. La pauvre fleur (December 7th, 1834). - -XXVIII. Au bord de la mer (October 7th, 1834). - -XXIX. Puisque nos heures sont remplies (February 19th, 1835). - -XXXIII. Dans l'eglise de.... (October 25th, 1834). - -XXXVI. Puisque Mai tout en fleurs (May 21st, 1835). - - -_B. LES VOIX INTERIEURES_ - -VI. Oh! vivons disent-ils (March 4th, 1837). - -VIII. Venez que je vous parle (April 21st, 1837). - -IX. Pendant que la fenetre etait ouverte (February 26th, 1837). - -XI. Puisqu'ici-bas toute ame (May 19th, 1836). - -XVI. Passe (April 1st, 1835). - -XVII. Soiree en mer (November 9th, 1836). - -XII. Or Ol ... (May 26th, 1837). - -XXX. Or Olympio (October 15th, 1835). - -XXXI. La tombe dit a la rose (June 3rd, 1837). - - -_C. LES RAYONS ET LES OMBRES_ - -XXII. Guitare (March 14th, 1837). - -XXIII. Autre guitare (July 18th, 1838). - -XXIV. Quand tu me parles de gloire (October 12th, 1837). - -XXVII. Oh! quand je dors, viens aupres de ma couche (June 19th, 1839). - -XXVIII. A une jeune femme (May 16th, 1837). - -XXV. Or cette terre ou l'on ploie (May 20th, 1838). - -XXXIII. L'Ombre (March 1839). - -XXXIV. Tristesse d'Olympio (October 21st, 1837). - -XLI. Dieu qui sourit et qui donne (January 1st, 1840). - - -_D. LES CONTEMPLATIONS_ - -[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE DESIGNED FOR JULIETTE DROUET BY VICTOR HUGO. - -The original belongs to M. Louis Barthou.] - -BOOK II - -II. Mes vers faisaient doux et freles.... - -V. Hier au soir - -XIII. Viens, une flute invisible - -XV. Parole dans l'ombre - -XVII. Sous les arbres - -XX. Il fait froid - -XXI. Il lui disait: Vois-tu, si tous deux nous pouvions - -XXIII. Apres l'hiver - -XXIV. Que le sort quel qu'il soit vous trouve toujours grande - -XXV. Je respire ou tu palpites - -XXVII. Oui, va prier a l'eglise - -XXVIII. Un soir que je regardais le ciel - -BOOK V - -XIV. Claire P.... - -XXIV. J'ai cueilli cette fleur pour toi sur la colline - -BOOK VI - -VIII. Claire - - -_E. TOUTE LA LYRE_ - -BOOK VI. L'AMOUR - -I. Lorsque ma main fremit - -II. Oh, si vous existez, mon ange, mon genie (March 10th, 1833). - -III. Vois-tu, mon ange, il faut accepter nos douleurs (January 1st, -1835). - -IV. Vous m'avez eprouve (June 23rd, 1843). - -XV. Etapes du c[oe]ur. - -VII. A J---- et - -IX. Qu'est-ce que cette annee emporte - -XVII. N'est-ce pas mon amour - -XXXI. Oh dis, te souviens-tu de cet heureux dimanche - -XXXIV. Garde a jamais dans ta memoire - -XXXVI. A une immortelle - -XLVII. Quand deux c[oe]urs en s'aimant - - -II. BOOKS CONCERNING JULIETTE DROUET - -_Les Belles femmes de Paris_, par une societe de gens de lettres et de -gens du monde, Paris, 1839. - -Edmond Bire: _Victor Hugo apres_ 1830. Paris, 1879. - -Alfred Asseline: _Victor Hugo intime_. Paris, 1885. - -Richard Levelide: _Propos de table de Victor Hugo_. Paris, 1885. - -Gustave Rivet: _Victor Hugo chez lui_. Paris, 1885. - -Tristan Legay: _Les amours de Victor Hugo_. Paris, 1901. - -Louis Guimbaud: _Victor Hugo et Juliette Drouet_ in _La Contemporaine_ -of February 25th and March 10th, 1902. - -Leon Seche: _Juliette Drouet_ in the _Revue de Paris_ of February 1st, -1903. - -Wellington Wack: _The Story of Juliette and Victor Hugo_. London and -Paris (no date, about 1906). - -Juana Richard Levelide: _Victor Hugo intime_. Paris, 1907. - -Hector Fleischmann: _Une Maitresse de Victor Hugo_. Paris, 1912. - -Jean Pierre Barbier: _Juliette Drouet, Sa Vie, son Oeuvre_. Paris, 1913. - - -III. WORKS OF ART REPRESENTING JULIETTE DROUET - -"Juliette Drouet in 1827." Statuette by Chaponniere. Only one proof is -known to us; it belongs to M. Daniel Baux Bovy, ex-curator of the Musee -de Geneve. - -"Juliette Drouet in 1830." Portrait in oils by Champmartin (Musee Victor -Hugo). - -"Juliette Drouet as Princesse Negronie." Coloured engraving in the -Martini series. - -"Juliette Drouet." Engraving by Leon Mael, in _L'Artiste_, 1832. - -"Juliette Drouet in 1846." Plaster bust by Victor Vilain (Musee Victor -Hugo). - -"Juliette Drouet at Jersey and Guernsey." Numerous photographs belonging -to Messrs. Blaizot and Planes. - -"Juliette Drouet in 1882." Drawing by Vuillaume in _Le Monde Illustre_ -of December 15th, 1882. - -"Juliette Drouet in 1883." Portrait in oils by Bastien Lepage; exhibited -in the Salon, 1883; now included in the Pereira Collection. - - - - -INDEX - - -Academie Francaise, 60-61 - -Alix, Mademoiselle, 267 - -Anges, Mother des, 5 - - -Barthes, Monsieur de, 74 - -Bernardines, Benedictines of Perpetual Adoration, 3 - -Bertin, Monsieur, 33 - -Biard, Madame, 245 - -Blanc, Madame Louis, 303 - - -Chenay, Madame Julie, 98 - -Constance, Mademoiselle, 253 - - -Dede, Mademoiselle, 232 - -Demousseaux, Madame, 218 - -Dorval, Madame, 12, 49, 142 - -_Drouet, Juliette_: - Her birthplace, 1 - Childhood, 3 - Becomes Pradier's mistress, 8 - Gives birth to a daughter, 8 - Enters theatrical world, 9 - Meets Victor Hugo, 13 - Plays Princesse Negroni, 17 - Falls in love with Victor Hugo, 23 - Denial of imaginary offences, 119 - After her first visit to 6, Place Royale, 121 - Works on Les Feuilles d'Automne, 123 - Suggests leaving Victor Hugo, 125 - Her fears for the future, 127 - Her landlord threatens to evict her, 131 - Farewell for ever, 132 - Leaves Victor Hugo, 30 - Asks for forgiveness, 135 - Four hours before the production of _Angelo_, 143 - An hour after the triumph of _Angelo_, 144 - The house at Metz, 36 - Letters from Metz, 155 - Her request for a portrait, 171 - Lawsuit of Victor Hugo against the Comedie Francaise, 186 - Cash accounts, 188 - Removes to Rue St. Anastase, 46 - Alluding to the revival of _Hernani_, 189 - Revival of M_arion de Lorme_, 192 - Cast for the Queen in _Ruy Blas_, 199 - Comments on _Didine_, 212 - Letter written after the catastrophe in which Victor - Hugo's eldest daughter and his son-in-law perished, 227 - Comments on a speech on deportation, 243 - Letters from Brussels, 251-283 - Residence in Jersey and Guernsey, 84 - Letters from Jersey, 256 - " " Guernsey, 265-286 - " " Paris, 290 - Death 114 - Her last letter, 310 - -Drouet, Rene Henri, 2 - - -Ferrier, Mademoiselle Ida, 28 - -Fougeres, 1 - -Gautier, Theophile, his description of Juliette, 19 - -Gauvain, Julienne Josephine. _See_ Drouet, Juliette - -Georges, Mademoiselle, 11, 12, 143 - -Granier de Cassagnac, 198 - -Guerard, Madame, 184 - - -Harel, Felix, 9, 143 - -Hilaire, Monsieur St., 228 - -Hugo, Charles, 92; - death, 105 - -Hugo, Francois, 92, 293 - -Hugo, Victor (_see also_ Drouet, Juliette) - Meets Juliette, 13 - Revival of _Hernani_, 57 - Becomes an Academician, 62, 216 - His opening speech, 65 - Lives at Jersey and Guernsey, 94 - Elected a member of the Assemblee Nationale, 105 - -Hugo, Madame Victor, 16 - -Joly, Antenor, 202 - -Juliette, Mademoiselle. _See_ Drouet, Juliette - - -Kock, Madame, 30 - -Kraftt, Madame, 133 - - -Lanvin, Madame, 123, 227 - -Lespinasse, Mademoiselle de, 187 - -Lockroy, Madame, 309 - -Luthereau, Madame, 86 - -Luxembourg, 67 - - -Mars, Mademoiselle, 142 - -Maxime, Mademoiselle, 226 - -Mechtilde, Mother Ste., 5 - -Menard, Madame, 301 - -Meurice, Paul, 104 - - -Orleans, Duc d', 225 - - -Pasquier, Monsieur, 144 - -Pierceau, Madame, 144, 218 - -Pradier, Claire, 69; - death, 82 - -Pradier, James, 7; - makes Juliette his mistress, 8; - writes to Juliette, 73, 123 - - -Quelen, Monsignor, Archbishop of Paris, 7 - - -Recamier, Madame, 144 - - -Teleki, 267 - -_Tudor, Marie_, 137 - - -Verdier, Monsieur, 144 - - -Watteville, Madame, 73, 123 - -_Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._ - - -THE PRINCESS MATHILDE BONAPARTE - - By PHILIP W. SERGEANT, Author of "The Last Empress of the French," - etc. - - _Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, fully illustrated, 16/-net._ - -Princess Mathilde Bonaparte, the niece of the great Emperor, died only -ten years ago. She was the first serious passion of her cousin, the -Emperor Napoleon III, and she might have been, if she had wished, -Empress of the French. Instead, she preferred to rule for half a century -over a _salon_ in Paris, where, although not without fault, she was -known as "the good princess." - - -FROM JUNGLE TO ZOO - - By ELLEN VELVIN, F.Z.S., Author of "Behind the Scenes with Wild - Animals," etc. - - _Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, with many remarkable photographs, - 6/-net._ - -A fascinating record of the many adventures to which wild animals and -their keepers are subject from the time the animals are captured until -their final lodgment in Zoo or menagerie. The author has studied wild -animals for sixteen years, and writes from personal knowledge. The book -is full of exciting stories and good descriptions of the methods of -capture, transportation and caging of savage animals, together with -accounts of their tricks, training, and escapes from captivity. - - -THE ADMIRABLE PAINTER: A study of Leonardo da Vinci - - By A. J. ANDERSON, Author of "The Romance of Fra Filippo Lippi," - "His Magnificence," etc. - - _Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, fully illustrated, 10/6 net._ - -In this book we find Leonardo da Vinci to have been no absorbed, -religious painter, but a man closely allied to every movement of the -brilliant age in which he lived. Leonardo jotted down his thoughts in -his notebooks and elaborated them with his brush, in the modelling of -clay, or in the planning of canals, earthworks and flying-machines. -These notebooks form the groundwork of Mr. Anderson's fascinating study, -which gives us a better understanding of Leonardo, the man, as well as -the painter, than was possible before. - - -WOMEN OF THE REVOLUTIONARY ERA - - By Lieut.-Col. ANDREW C. P. HAGGARD, D.S.O., Author of "Remarkable - Women of France, 1431-1749," etc. - - _Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, fully illustrated, 16/-net._ - -Lieut.-Col. Haggard has many times proved that history can be made as -fascinating as fiction. Here he deals with the women whose more or less -erratic careers influenced, by their love of display, the outbreak which -culminated in the Reign of Terror. Most of them lived till after the -beginning of the Revolution, and some, like Marie Antoinette, Theroigne -de Mericourt and Madame Roland, were sucked down in the maelstrom which -their own actions had intensified. - - -THE MEMOIRS OF THE DUKE DE ST. SIMON - - Newly translated and edited by FRANCIS ARKWRIGHT. - - _In six volumes, demy 8vo, handsomely bound in cloth gilt, with - illustrations in photogravure, 10/6 net each volume. (Volumes I. - and II. are now ready.)_ - -No historian has ever succeeded in placing scenes and persons so vividly -before the eyes of his readers as did the Duke de St. Simon. He was a -born observer; his curiosity was insatiable; he had a keen insight into -character; he knew everybody, and has a hundred anecdotes to relate of -the men and women he describes. He had a singular knack of acquiring the -confidential friendship of men in high office, from whom he learnt -details of important state affairs. For a brief while he served as a -soldier. Afterwards his life was passed at the Court of Louis XIV, where -he won the affectionate intimacy of the Duke of Orleans and the Duke of -Burgundy. St. Simon's famous Memoirs have recently been much neglected -in England, owing to the mass of unnecessary detail overshadowing the -marvellously fascinating chronicle beneath. In this edition, however, -they have been carefully edited and should have an extraordinarily wide -reception. - - -BY THE WATERS OF GERMANY - - By NORMA LORIMER, Author of "A Wife out of Egypt," etc. With a - Preface by Douglas Sladen. - - _Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, with a coloured frontispiece and 16 other - illustrations by_ MARGARET THOMAS _and_ ERNA MICHEL, _12/6 net_. - -This fascinating travel-book describes the land of the Rhine and the -Black Forest, at the present time so much the centre of public interest. -The natural and architectural beauties of Germany are too supreme for -even the sternest German-hater to deny; and this book describes them and -the land around them well. But apart from the love-story which Miss -Lorimer has weaved into the book, a particularly great interest attaches -to her description of the home life of the men who, since she saw them, -have deserved and received the condemnation of the whole civilized -world. - - -BY THE WATERS OF SICILY - - By NORMA LORIMER, Author of "By the Waters of Germany," etc. - - _New and Cheaper Edition, reset from new type, Large Crown 8vo, - cloth gilt, with a coloured frontispiece and 16 other - illustrations, 6/-._ - -This book, the predecessor of "By the Waters of Germany," was called at -the time of its original publication "one of the most original books of -travel ever published." It had at once a big success, but for some time -it has been quite out of print. Full of the vivid colour of Sicilian -life, it is a delightfully picturesque volume, half travel-book, half -story; and there is a sparkle in it, for the author writes as if glad to -be alive in her gorgeously beautiful surroundings. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] Her birth-certificate is drawn up in the following terms: "On April -11th, 1806, at 3 p.m. before me, Louis Pinel, mayor of Fougeres and -registrar of births, deaths, and marriages, Julien Gauvain, tailor, -aged twenty-nine, residing at Rue de la Revolution, Fougeres, presented -a female child, born on the preceding day at 7 a.m., the legitimate -daughter of himself and his wife Marie Caretandet; he declared his -intention of bestowing upon her the names of Julienne-Josephine. The -said declaration and presentation were made in the presence of Francois -Dorange, sheriff's officer, aged twenty-five, residing in Fougeres, and -Francois Paunier, gardener, aged sixty-eight, residing in Lecousse. -This certificate was duly signed by the father and the witnesses, after -the same had been read aloud to them. Signed: Julien Gauvain, Francois -Paunier, Dorange, and Louis Pinel." - -[2] She posed, not, as has been stated, and as we ourselves have -erroneously printed, for statues in the towns of Lille and Strasburg, -but for numerous studies of the head and the nude which Pradier -afterwards made use of; thus the features of Julienne may be recognised -in almost all the rough studies belonging to the first portion of -Pradier's career, which are exhibited under glass in the museum at -Geneva. - -[3] The portrait of Victor Hugo by Deveria has often been reproduced. -It is popular. Leon Noel's lithograph is less known. It is to be found -either in the _Artiste_ in the course of the year 1832 or in the Musee -Victor Hugo. We reproduced it in the _Contemporaine_ of February 25th, -1902. - -[4] Victor Hugo, _Correspondance_. Letter to Sainte-Beuve, August 22nd, -1833. - -[5] Victor Hugo, _Correspondance_. Letter to Sainte-Beuve, July 7th, -1831. - -[6] _Lettres a la Fiancee._ - -[7] Under the heading: _A Ol._ (Olympio) XII. - -[8] Theophile Gautier, _Portraits contemporains_. - -[9] Alphonse Karr, _Une Heure trop tard_. - -[10] We heard it from Monsieur Benezit, who was often with Frederick -Lemaitre about the year 1872. - -[11] Theophile Gautier, _Portraits contemporains_. - -[12] _Lucrece Borgia._ First note to the original edition. - -[13] She was forty-six and beginning to grow fat. According to -Juliette, she told Victor Hugo that his mistress was deceitful, vain, -lawless, and a flirt. - -[14] V. H. Fleischmann, _Une Maitresse de Victor Hugo_, chap. vii. - -[15] Nothing remains of it now, save the name and the site. All the -rest, park, garden, and dwelling, has been completely altered. - -[16] In 1877 Madame Drouet, although seventy-one years old, insisted -upon attending the funeral of Mlle. Louise Bertin. "I wish," she wrote -to Victor Hugo, "to show in this way that I have not forgotten the -marks of sympathy she gave you on my account in the early days of our -love" (_Letter of April 28th, 1877_). - -[17] This inn still exists, and is not changed in any way. It is -exceedingly modest. - -[18] It belongs now to Madame Veuve Bigot. On the left exterior wall a -Versailles society has thought fit to place an inscription recording -that Victor Hugo once inhabited the house. Four lines of _La Tristesse -d'Olympio_ follow. It would have been more correct to bracket the name -of Juliette Drouet with that of the poet, for after all it was not he -who lived there, but she. - -[19] Here occurs the only discrepancy between _La Tristesse d'Olympio_ -and the letters of Juliette. Victor Hugo writes in 1837: "They have -paved this rough, badly-laid road"; whereas Juliette, as early as 1835, -calls it _the pavement_. - -[20] _La Tristesse d'Olympio._ - -[21] See also later, in the collection of letters, the one written -under date of January 25th, 1844. - -[22] September 27th, 1845. - -[23] September 29th, 1845: "I wish I had the money to buy it all before -it is desecrated." Victor Hugo understood her feeling, and a generous -impulse led him to propose to buy the house. The price asked was six -thousand francs. Very delicately Juliette refused. October 7th, 1845. - -[24] 1834. - -[25] December 15th, 1838. - -[26] Theophile Gautier. - -[27] In 1836 Victor Hugo was forced to take legal action against the -Comedie Francaise. He won his case the following year. - -[28] We have proofs of this in two letters from Juliette to Victor Hugo. - -[29] February 1st, 1836. - -[30] It will be remembered that Mlle. Maxime brought an action against -the Comedie and Victor Hugo on that point, which made some considerable -stir. See the articles of Monsieur Jules Claretie in _Le Journal_ of -February 5th, 1902. - -[31] _Les Burgraves_ alternated in the bill with a piece by Madame de -Girardin in which Rachel played the heroine. - -[32] May 30th, 1841. - -[33] The removal took place in the month of February 1845. The rent and -accommodation of the apartment were about the same as at No. 14. The -furnishing, which Victor Hugo wished to make somewhat more luxurious, -cost 2,256 francs, including the first quarter's rent. - -[34] 1833. - -[35] Monsieur Leon Seche, _Revue de Paris_, February 15th, 1903. - -[36] Catalogue of an interesting collection of autograph letters of -which the sale took place on Saturday, November 30th, 1912, page 21. -Paris. Noel Charavay, 1912. In another note dated from Les Metz, Victor -Hugo tells Claire "that he loves her with all his heart, and uses his -best handwriting in writing to her, which is very praiseworthy in -an old student like himself." And he adds, "I kiss both your little -peach-cheeks." (Same, p. 22.) - -[37] Autograph postscript by Victor Hugo to a letter to Juliette on May -28th, 1833, quoted above. - -[38] Pradier did not fail to write a sermon on this occasion full of -the unction and solecisms in which he habitually excelled. - -[39] June 5th, 1841. - -[40] _Les Contemplations_, Livres V., XIV., Claire P. - -[41] One of the sons of the sculptor was called John. - -[42] April 25th, 1845. - -[43] April 27th, 1845. - -[44] The thrilling episode of Victor Hugo's political adventures in -1851, by which his life was placed in jeopardy through his espousal of -the cause of liberty and progress, is related by himself in _L'Histoire -d'un crime_. He was forced to go into hiding in December for several -days, and subsequently made his escape to Brussels in the disguise of -a workman. Juliette had preceded him thither, to prepare a safe refuge -for him.--_Translator's Note._ - -[45] Charles Hugo, _Les Hommes de l'Exil_, p. 104. - -[46] _Ibid._ - -[47] May 18th, 1852. - -[48] This passage constitutes the portion of the Galleries of St. -Hubert situated at right angles to the two others, called respectively, -Passage du Roi, and Passage de la Reine. - -[49] May 24th, 1852. - -[50] A packet of Victor Hugo's love-letters to Madame B. was -treacherously forwarded to her by the lady in question. They extended -over a period of seven years, 1844 to 1851. Victor Hugo had carried -on his secret intrigue with Madame B. while he was daily visiting and -corresponding with Juliette. The discovery of his duplicity almost -broke her heart.--_Translator's Note._ - -[51] Victor Hugo, _Correspondance_, letter to Emile Deschanel, December -11th, 1853. - -[52] January 23rd, 1853. - -[53] It was signed by Felix Pyat, Rougee, and Jourdain. - -[54] Victor Hugo had disposed of the bulk of his furniture in June -1852, but he had stored the things he specially valued at Juliette's -apartment, Cite Rodier. - -[55] These remarks may be verified by the series of photographs of the -poet taken by his sons during his exile and preserved in the Musee -Victor Hugo. Some of the snapshots, as we should call them nowadays, -are an indication of the distress of the great outlaw. - -[56] _Victor Hugo Intime_, by Madame Juana Lesclide. - -[57] A young girl in bad circumstances, to whom Juliette had given -shelter under her own roof, and who thus requited the charity of her -benefactress.--_Translator's Note._ - -[58] Juliette Drouet was buried on May 12th, 1883, in the cemetery -of Saint Mande, near her daughter Claire, under a marble stone she -had selected for herself in 1881. Her funeral was attended by a large -body of journalists. The speech was delivered by Auguste Vacquerie. -According to a letter she wrote to Victor Hugo on November 1st, 1881, -she wished for an epitaph taken from one of the "sublime poems" he had -addressed to her. Her desire was not gratified; the tomb does not even -bear the name of our heroine. - -[59] Juliette Drouet occasionally acted as the poet's secretary. - -[60] This letter is not signed. The envelope is addressed: "M. Victor -Hugo. A quarter to twelve, midnight. I am going to your house." - -[61] Victor Hugo was then living at 6, Place Royale, in the house which -is now the Musee Victor Hugo. Juliette Drouet lived not far away at 4, -Rue de Paradis au Marais, which is now one of the sections of the Rue -des Francs-Bourgeois. - -[62] Juliette's furniture had just been seized, and her landlord was -threatening to evict her. - -[63] Mlle. Mars, who was rehearsing a part in _Angelo_, at the Comedie -Francaise. - -[64] There are traces of tears all over this letter. - -[65] Eugene Hugo, brother of the poet, had just expired. See Number -XXIX of _Voix Interieures, a Eugene, Vicomte Hugo_. - -[66] This is an allusion to the second poem in the _Voix Interieures_: -"Sunt lacrimae...." - -[67] One of the basins in the park of Versailles. - -[68] Victor Hugo had given Juliette a _Quintus Curtius_ in which he had -formerly studied Latin. On the fly-leaf he had written a few words of -dedication. - -[69] A critic. - -[70] Juliette Drouet here enumerates the depreciation of various -stocks. The letter is of course written in a sarcastic vein induced by -_pique_.--_Translator's Note._ - -[71] This is an allusion to the lawsuit of Victor Hugo against the -Comedie Francaise. - -[72] Casimir Delavigne. - -[73] Scribe. - -[74] Juliette's sums were always wrong. - -[75] Alluding to the revival of _Hernani_ at the Comedie Francaise, -January 20th, 1838. - -[76] The revival of _Marion de Lorme_ at the Comedie Francaise was to -take place the next evening, March 8th. - -[77] Granier de Cassagnac, one of the most ardent champions of Victor -Hugo against the classical writers. The poet had introduced him to the -_Journal des Debats_. - -[78] _Ruy Blas._ The poet had considered the propriety of casting -Juliette for the part of the Queen, and had in consequence caused her -to be engaged by the Theatre de la Renaissance. - -[79] The creator of the part of the Queen in _Ruy Blas_. The first -performance had taken place on November 8th. - -[80] Antenor Joly, Manager of the Theatre de la Renaissance. He had -intended to produce Juliette in a musical comedy. - -[81] Victor Hugo had already submitted himself three times as a -candidate for the Academie and was elected the fourth time, that is to -say, the day Juliette wrote this letter. His chief adversary in the -Academie was one of his former rivals, the Vaudevilliste, Dupaty. - -[82] Victor Hugo was received into the Academie by Monsieur de Salvandy -on June 3rd, 1841. - -[83] The poet's children. - -[84] Victor Hugo had been elected Chancellor of the Academie Francaise -on the preceding June 24th. Charles Nodier was the President. - -[85] Francois Victor Hugo, whose childhood was extremely delicate. - -[86] This is an allusion to the recent death of the Duc d'Orleans, the -friend and protector of Victor Hugo. - -[87] Rehearsals of _Burgraves_ at the Comedie Francaise. - -[88] An allusion to the disagreement of the poet with Mdlle. Maxime, to -whom the Comedie Francaise wished to allot the part of _Guachumara_, -and whom he was afterwards able to replace by Mdlle. Theodorine (Mme. -Melingue). - -[89] This letter is written after the catastrophe at Villequier on -September 4th, 1847, in which the eldest daughter and the son-in-law of -the poet perished. - -[90] This is an allusion to a journey Juliette and Victor Hugo had just -made, the account of which had been published in _Alpes et Pyrenees_. - -[91] Probably Ulrich Guttinguer. - -[92] A bronze medal representing Victor Hugo, after the medallion by -David d'Angers. - -[93] This letter was written at Auteuil, where Juliette was living, -with her dying daughter, in a house belonging to the sculptor, Pradier. -Victor Hugo visited her there nearly every day. - -[94] The doctor chosen by Pradier. - -[95] Juliette's own doctor. - -[96] Victor Hugo was then a candidate for the Assemblee Nationale. - -[97] Victor Hugo was to make a speech that day on _La Misere_, vide -_Actes et Paroles_, _Avant l'Exil_. - -[98] Mdlle. Rachel. Arsene Houssaye, who had recently been appointed -Director of the Comedie Francaise, had just introduced Victor Hugo to -the great tragedian. - -[99] A speech on deportation. Vide _Actes et paroles_, _Avant l'Exil_. - -[100] Madame Biard. - -[101] Madame Biard had sent Juliette a packet of Victor Hugo's letters -to her. - -[102] The word "to-day" is left unfinished in the original, thus: -_aujo_.... - -[103] The period when Victor Hugo's intrigue with Madame Biard began. - -[104] On December 2nd, 1851, Victor Hugo held a meeting of the -representatives of the people, at which he drew up a proclamation -addressed to the Army. On the 3rd he presided over a meeting of the -Republicans in the Faubourg St. Antoine. Word was brought that the -troops were marching on the Faubourg. Victor Hugo thereupon delivered -an impassioned appeal to his audience, which concluded in the following -terms: "On one side stand the Army, and a crime--on the other, a -handful of men, and the Right! Such is the struggle. Are you prepared -to carry it through?"--_Translator's note._ - -[105] A troupe of actors passing through Jersey had insisted upon -playing _Angelo_ before the exiled poet. - -[106] Teleki, one of Victor Hugo's friends in Jersey. - -[107] Victor Hugo had taken up photography. - -[108] An allusion to spiritualism to which Victor Hugo had just fallen -a prey. - -[109] Adele Hugo, daughter of the poet. - -[110] Victor Hugo's drawings. He was giving them away indiscriminately -to his friends, and Juliette was jealous. - -[111] Probably one of the poems commemorating the catastrophe of -Villequier. They were collected and republished in _Les Contemplations_. - -[112] Charles Hugo had lost his eldest son, Georges. He gave the same -Christian name to the second, who, with Petite Jeanne, figures in -_L'Art d'etre Grand-pere_. - -[113] Madame Victor Hugo had just died. - -[114] Francois Victor Hugo had just been given up by the doctors. His -slow agony lasted eleven months. - -[115] Francois Victor Hugo died in the course of the day. - -[116] The anniversary of the death of Claire. - -[117] The removal from _Hauteville Feerie_. - -[118] Victor Hugo was to make a speech at the funeral of Madame Louis -Blanc. - -[119] A. Vacquerie and family. - -[120] To the grave of Leopoldine. - -[121] This letter is the last Juliette ever wrote. - -[122] Monsieur Eugene Planes possesses the original editions of _Chants -du Crepuscule_, _Les Voix Interieures_, _Les Rayons et les Ombres_, -dedicated to Juliette and annotated by herself. He has been good -enough to refer to them and verify our list in so far as the three -following collections are concerned. We have included in the selection -only the love-poems directly inspired by Juliette. We have left out -the miscellaneous pieces which were dedicated to her after they were -written, sometimes at her own request. - - * * * * * - -Typographical error corrected by the etext transcriber: - -the silent Bievre=> the silent Bievres {pg 33} - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Juliette Drouet's Love-Letters to -Victor Hugo, by Louis Guimbaud and Juliette Drouet - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIETTE DROUET'S LETTERS *** - -***** This file should be named 44034.txt or 44034.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/0/3/44034/ - -Produced by StevenGibbs, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/44034.zip b/44034.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 484b3da..0000000 --- a/44034.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/44034-8.txt b/old/44034-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6fc851d..0000000 --- a/old/44034-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10715 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Juliette Drouet's Love-Letters to Victor -Hugo, by Louis Guimbaud and Juliette Drouet - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Juliette Drouet's Love-Letters to Victor Hugo - Edited with a Biography of Juliette Drouet - -Author: Louis Guimbaud - Juliette Drouet - -Translator: Lady Theodora Davidson - -Release Date: October 25, 2013 [EBook #44034] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIETTE DROUET'S LETTERS *** - - - - -Produced by StevenGibbs, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - JULIETTE DROUET'S LOVE-LETTERS - TO VICTOR HUGO - -THE NEW FRANCE, BEING A HISTORY FROM THE ACCESSION OF LOUIS PHILIPPE IN -1830 TO THE REVOLUTION OF 1848, with Appendices - -By ALEXANDRE DUMAS. Translated into English, with an introduction -and notes by R. S. GARNETT. - -_In two volumes, Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, profusely illustrated with a -rare portrait of Dumas and other pictures after famous artists. -24/-net._ - -The map of Europe is about to be altered. Before long we shall be -engaged in the marking out. This we can hardly follow with success -unless we possess an intelligent knowledge of the history of our Allies. -It is a curious fact that the present generation is always ignorant of -the history of that which preceded it. Everyone or nearly everyone has -read a history--Carlyle's or some other--of the French Revolution of -1789 to 1800; very few seem versed in what followed and culminated in -the revolution of 1848, which was the continuation of the first. - -Both revolutions resulted from an idea--the idea of _the people_. In -1789 the people destroyed servitude, ignorance, privilege, monarchical -despotism; in 1848 they thrust aside representation by the few and a -Monarchy which served its own interests to the prejudice of the country. -It is impossible to understand the French Republic of to-day unless the -struggle in 1848 be studied: for every profound revolution is an -evolution. - -A man of genius, the author of the most essentially French book, both in -its subject and treatment, that exists (its name is _The Three -Musketeers_) took part in this second revolution, and having taken part -in it, he wrote its history. Only instead of calling his book what it -was--a history of France for eighteen years--that is to say from the -accession of Louis Philippe in 1830 to his abdication in 1848--he called -it _The Last King of the French_. An unfortunate title, truly, for while -the book was yet a new one the "last King" was succeeded by a man who, -having been elected President, made himself Emperor. It will easily be -understood that a book with such a title by a republican was not likely -to be approved by the severe censorship of the Second Empire. And, in -fact, no new edition of the book has appeared for sixty years, although -its republican author was Alexandre Dumas. - -During the present war the Germans have twice marched over his grave at -Villers Cotterets, near Soissons, where he sleeps with his brave father -General Alexandre Dumas. The first march was en route for Paris; the -second was before the pursuit of our own and the French armies, and -while these events were taking place the first translation of his long -neglected book was being printed in London. _Habent sua fata tibelli._ - -Written when the fame of its brilliant author was at its height, this -book will be found eminently characteristic of him. Although a history -composed with scrupulous fidelity to facts, it is as amusing as a -romance. Wittily written, and abounding in life and colour, the long -narrative takes the reader into the battlefield, the Court and the Htel -de Ville with equal success. Dumas, who in his early days occupied a -desk in the prince's bureaux, but who resigned it when the Duc d'Orleans -became King of the French, relates much which it is curious to read at -the present time. To his text, as originally published, are added as -Appendices some papers from his pen relating to the history of the time, -which are unknown in England. - -[Illustration: _Victor Hugo and Juliette Drouet_] - - - - - JULIETTE DROUET'S LOVE-LETTERS - TO VICTOR HUGO - - EDITED WITH A BIOGRAPHY OF JULIETTE DROUET - - BY - LOUIS GUIMBAUD - - TRANSLATED BY - LADY THEODORA DAVIDSON - - WITH A PHOTOGRAVURE FRONTISPIECE - AND 36 ILLUSTRATIONS IN HALF-TONE - - LONDON - STANLEY PAUL & CO - 31 ESSEX STREET, STRAND, W.C. - - _First published in 1915_ - - - - -FOREWORD - - -A poet, a great poet, loves a princess of the theatre. He is jealous. He -forces her to abandon the stage and the green-room, to relinquish the -hollow flattery of society and the town; he cloisters her with one -servant, two or three of his portraits, and as many books, in an -apartment a few yards square. When she complains of having nothing to do -but wait for him, he replies: "Write to me. Write me everything that -comes into your head, everything that causes your heart to beat." - -Such is the origin of the letters of Juliette Drouet to Victor Hugo. -They are not ordinary missives confided to the post and intended to -assure a lover of the tender feelings of his mistress: they are notes, -mere "scribbles," as Juliette herself calls them, thrown upon paper hour -by hour, cast into a corner without being read over, and secured by the -lover at each of his visits, as so many trophies of passion. - -When Juliette Drouet's executor, M. Louis Kock, died in Paris on May -26th, 1912, he had in his possession about twenty thousand. He had added -to them the letters of James Pradier to our heroine, those of Juliette -to her daughter, Claire Pradier, and the answers of Claire Pradier to -her mother. - -This collection of documents passed into the hands of a Parisian -publisher, Monsieur A. Blaizot, who has been so good as to allow us to -examine them and compile from them a volume concerning Victor Hugo and -his friend. - -At first sight the task presented grave difficulties--nay, it seemed -almost impossible of execution. To begin with, it would have been futile -to think of publishing the whole of the twenty thousand letters; in the -second place, it might appear a work of supererogation to reconstruct -from them in detail the story of a _liaison_ well known to have been -uneventful, almost monotonous, and more suggestive of a litany or the -beads of a rosary than of tragedy or a novel. - -We have attempted to surmount these objections in the following manner: - -In the first portion we present the biography of Juliette Drouet in the -form of a series of synthetic tableaux, each tableau summarising several -lustres of her life. We thus avoid the long-drawn-out narrative, year by -year, of an existence devoid of incident or adventure. - -In the second, we publish those letters which strike us as peculiarly -eloquent, witty, or lyrical. In the light shed upon them by the -preliminary biography, they form, as one might say, its justification -and natural sequel. - -At the outset of her _liaison_ with the poet Juliette does not date her -"scribbles"; she merely notes the time of day and the day of the week, -until about 1840; we have therefore been obliged to content ourselves -with the classification effected by her in the collection of her -manuscripts, and preserved by her executor. - -From 1840 she dated every sheet. Consequently our work simultaneously -achieves more precision and certainty. - -When its difficulties have seemed insuperable, we have derived valuable -encouragement from the sympathy of the literary students and friends who -had urged us to undertake it, or were assisting us in its execution. We -have pleasure in recording our thanks to the following: MM. Louis -Barthou, Beuve, A. Blaizot, Franois Camailhac, Eugne Plans, Escolier, -etc. b We have often wondered what the charming woman whose ideals, -tastes, and habits have, by degrees, become almost as familiar to us as -her handwriting, would have thought of our efforts. As far as she -herself is concerned there can be but little doubt. She would have made -fun of the undertaking. By dint of moving in the society of men of high -literary attainments she had acquired a very modest estimate of her own -wit and talent. In 1877, when the architect Roblin one day discovered -her sorting out her "scribbles," he thought she was attempting to write -a book and gravely asked her "when it was to be published." "What an -idea!" she cried, and burst out laughing. - -Such was not the opinion of Victor Hugo, however. That perfect artist -attached the utmost importance to the writings of his friend. Each time -she wished to destroy them he commanded her to preserve them. Whenever -she proposed to bring them to a close, he insisted upon her continuing. -We possess an unpublished letter from the poet in which he exclaims: - -"Your letters, my Juliette, constitute my treasure, my casket of jewels, -my riches! In them our joint lives are recorded day by day, thought by -thought. All that you dreamed lies there, all that you suffered. They -are charming mirrors, each one of which reflects a fresh aspect of your -lovely soul." - -Surely such a phrase conveys approbation and sanction sufficient for -both Juliette Drouet and her humble biographer. - - - - -CONTENTS - - -PART I - -_BIOGRAPHICAL_ - -CHAPTER I - PAGE - -JULIENNE GAUVAIN 1 - -CHAPTER II - -PRINCESSE NGRONI 14 - -CHAPTER III - -"LA TRISTESSE D'OLYMPIO" 33 - -CHAPTER IV - -THE SHACKLES OF LOVE 45 - -CHAPTER V - -CLAIRE PRADIER 69 - -CHAPTER VI - -"ON AN ISLAND" 84 - -CHAPTER VII - -"THAT WHICH BRINGS SATISFACTION TO THE HEART" 104 - - -PART II - -_LETTERS_ 115 - - -APPENDIX - -I. LIST OF THOSE OF VICTOR HUGO'S POEMS -WHICH WERE INSPIRED BY JULIETTE -DROUET 311 - -II. BOOKS CONCERNING JULIETTE DROUET 314 - -III. WORKS OF ART REPRESENTING JULIETTE -DROUET 314 - -INDEX 317 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - -VICTOR HUGO AND JULIETTE DROUET _Photogravure Frontispiece_ - - FACING PAGE - -THE CHTEAU OF FOUGRES IN 1831 1 - -CLAIRE PRADIER AS A CHILD 8 - -VICTOR HUGO AS A YOUNG MAN 16 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN THE RLE OF LA PRINCESSE NGRONI 24 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN THE RLE OF LA PRINCESSE NGRONI 32 - -HOUSE IN THE VILLAGE OF LES METZ, IN THE PARISH OF -JOUY-EN-JOSAS, SEINE-ET-OISE 32 - -CHURCH OF BIVRES, SEINE-ET-OISE 40 - -VICTOR HUGO ABOUT 1836 48 - -"LE CITOYEN VICTOR HUGO JOUANT AU CONGRS DE LA PAIX" 64 - -CLAIRE PRADIER AT FIFTEEN 72 - -CLAIRE PRADIER ON HER DEATHBED 80 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN JERSEY 88 - -VICTOR HUGO IN JERSEY 96 - -VICTOR HUGO, HIS FAMILY, AND JULIETTE DROUET AT HAUTEVILLE HOUSE 104 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN 1883 112 - -CLAIRE PRADIER 120 - -JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1830 128 - -A PAGE OF JULIETTE DROUET'S NOTE-BOOK IN 1834 136 - -AUTOGRAPH LETTER FROM JULIETTE DROUET TO HER DAUGHTER CLAIRE 144 - -VICTOR HUGO 160 - -CARICATURE OF MLLE. GEORGE, BY VICTOR HUGO 176 - -PORTRAIT OF VICTOR HUGO BY HIMSELF 176 - -AUTOGRAPH AND DRAWING BY JULIETTE DROUET 192 - -THE BRIDGE OF MARNE 208 - -A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET 224 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN 1846 232 - -VICTOR HUGO, RPUBLICAIN 240 - -DRAWING BY VICTOR HUGO, SIGNED "TOTO" 256 - -THE FLOWER AND THE BUTTERFLY 256 - -JULIETTE DROUET'S HAND 272 - -VICTOR HUGO, BY RODIN 288 - -JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1877 296 - -THE DEATHBED OF VICTOR HUGO 304 - -A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET 304 - -BOOK-PLATE DESIGNED FOR JULIETTE DROUET BY VICTOR HUGO 312 - -[Illustration: THE CHTEAU OF FOUGRES IN 1836. - -Unpublished drawing by Victor Hugo.] - - - - -JULIETTE DROUET'S LOVE-LETTERS TO VICTOR HUGO - - - - -PART I - -_BIOGRAPHICAL_ - - - - -CHAPTER I - -JULIENNE GAUVAIN - - -An irregular outline, sombre colouring, a tangle of towers, steeples, -high gables and ramparts, steep passages built in the form of steps: -such was the town of Fougres at the beginning of the nineteenth -century. The principal features of its surroundings were a turbulent -river waging unceasing conflict with numerous mills, uncultivated -wastes, more footpaths than lanes, and more lanes than high-roads. - -This former hot-bed of _chouans_ was an appropriate birthplace for a -heroine of romance--and there, on April 10th, 1806, was born Julienne -Josphine Gauvain, subsequently known as Mademoiselle Juliette, and -later still, as Madame Drouet.[1] - -Her father was a humble tailor living in a suburb of the town, on the -road between Fougres and Autrain; her mother kept the little home. -Madame Drouet was somewhat proud of her humble origin; she wrote: "I am -of the people," as others might boast "I am well born"; she wished -thereby to explain and excuse her taste for independence, her fiery -temper, and her impulsive nature. She might equally have attributed -these to the neglect she suffered in early infancy. - -For she had no parents to guard or train her. Her mother died on -December 15th, 1806, before the infant could lisp her first words. On -September 12th in the following year the father dragged himself to the -public infirmary at Fougres, and there breathed his last. The infirmary -took over the charge of the orphan, and was about to place her with the -foundlings--indeed, the necessary formalities had already been complied -with--when a protector suddenly came forward, a certain worthy uncle. - -His name was Ren Henri Drouet. He was thirty-two years old, a -sub-lieutenant of artillery, had seen active service in eight campaigns -under Napoleon, and been wounded in the foot by the blow of an axe. The -wound was such that some very quiet employment had to be provided for -him. The ex-artilleryman was turned into a coast-guard, and dawdled out -a bored existence in the little Breton port where fate confined him -henceforth. He claimed Julienne, and she was handed over to his care. - -It would be foolish to pretend that this retired warrior was a suitable -person to undertake the training of a little girl. He understood only -how to spoil and caress her. Never did child enjoy a wilder, more -vagabond childhood. Julienne never got to the village school, because on -the way thither glimmered a large pond bordered by clumps of bushes. -Among the latter she would conceal her shoes and stockings, and, wading -into the water, blue as the skies above, gather starry water-lilies. -When she came out, more often than not she failed to find the -hiding-place, and ran home bare-footed, with hair floating in the wind -and a frock torn to ribbons. But she only laughed, and was forgiven -because she made such a winsome picture in her tatters and her wreath of -flowers. Those were halcyon days--days filled with innocent joys and -elemental sorrows: a fruit-tree robbed of its burden under the indulgent -eye of the old coastguard in his green uniform, the death of a tame -linnet. All her life Julienne's memory would dwell pleasurably on those -early delights. Nothing could curb her natural wildness, not even the -gate of a cloister or the rule of St. Benedict. - -Among Ren Henri Drouet's female relations he counted a sister and a -cousin, nuns in a great Parisian convent, the Bernardines-Bndictines -of Perpetual Adoration. Their house was situated in the Rue du -Petit-Picpus. When Julienne was ten years old he easily managed to have -her admitted to the school attached to the convent, and thenceforth the -orphan's path in life seemed settled: she should first become a -distinguished pupil, then a pious novice, and lastly a holy nun. But, as -events turned out, Julienne was only to carry out the first part of the -programme. - -From the description left us by Madame Drouet and transcribed in full -by, Victor Hugo in _Les Misrables_, the house in the Petit-Picpus -was none too cheerful; its first welcome to the child was more -sombre than any drama she was to figure in, later, as an actress. -Padlocked gates, dark corridors, bare rooms, a chapel where the -priest himself was concealed behind a veil--such was the scene; black -phantoms with shrouded features played the parts; the action was -composed of interminable prayers and stringent mortifications. The -Bernardines-Bndictines slept on straw and wore hair shirts, which -produced chronic irritation and jerky spasms; they knew not the taste -of meat or the warmth of a fire; they took turns in making reparation, -and no excuse for shirking was permitted. Reparation consisted in -prayers for all the sins and faults of omission and commission, all -the crimes of the world. For twelve consecutive hours the petitioner -had to kneel upon the stone steps in front of the Blessed Sacrament, -with clasped hands and a rope round her neck; when the fatigue -became unbearable, she prostrated herself on her face, with her arms -outstretched in the form of a cross, and prayed more ardently than -before for the sinners of the universe. Victor Hugo, who gathered -these details from the lips of Madame Drouet, declared them sublime, -while she who had personally witnessed their painful passion, retained -a profound impression for life, coupled with a strong sense of -Catholicism, and the gift of prayer. - -Outside of these austerities the pupils of the school conformed to -nearly all the practices of the convent. Like the nuns, they only saw -their parents in the parlour, and were not allowed to embrace them. In -the refectory they ate in silence under the eye of the nun on duty, who -from time to time, if so much as a fly flew without permission, would -snap a wooden book noisily. This sound, and the reading of the _Lives of -the Saints_, were the sole seasoning of the meal. If a rebellious pupil -dared to dislike the food and leave it on her plate, she was condemned -to kneel and make the sign of the cross on the stone floor with her -tongue. - -Neither the licked cross nor the meagre fare ever succeeded in damping -Julienne's spirits. She preserved the beautiful spontaneity and love of -fun of her early years. She was the spoilt child of the convent where -her aunts, Mother des Anges and Mother Ste Mechtilde, appear to have -wielded a kindly authority. She soon became its _enfant terrible_. Once, -when she was about twelve years old, she threw herself into the arms of -a nun and cried, devouring the outer walls with her eyes: "Mother, -mother, one of the big girls has just told me I have only got nine years -and ten months more to stay here: what luck!" And another time she -dropped on the pavement of the cloister a confession written on a sheet -of paper so that she might not forget its items: "Father, I accuse -myself of being an adulteress. Father, I accuse myself of having stared -at gentlemen." - -One might well ask who were the gentlemen concerned, for in the convent -of Petit-Picpus there were no male professors; only the most -distinguished among the nuns assumed the duty of instructing the young -boarders. Judging from the eloquence which will be found later in Madame -Drouet's letters, the Bernardines-Bndictines must have accomplished -their task with great thoroughness. Julienne learned from them, if not -orthography and cultivated style, at least sincerity, and the point -that, before attempting to write, one should have something to say. She -also studied accomplishments. Mother Ste Mechtilde possessed a beautiful -voice. She was consequently appointed mistress of ceremonies and of the -choir, and used to train her niece and other pupils. Her habit was to -take seven children and make them sing standing in a row according to -their ages, so that they looked like a set of girlish organ-pipes. -History does not relate whether Julienne sang better than the others, -but a little later she began to nurse in secret the idea of utilising -her gifts as a virtuoso. At Petit-Picpus she also learned to sketch and -paint in water-colours. She owed this instruction to the favour of the -pious nuns, who, as a special breach of their rule, authorised her to -take lessons from a young master, Redout. - -It may not be too bold to declare that Julienne imbibed at the convent -those qualities of tact and restraint, and that air of distinction she -exhibited later in the drawing-rooms of Victor Hugo. To the Convent of -the Bernardines was attached a sort of house of retreat where aged -ladies of rank could end their days, as also nuns of the various orders -whose cloisters had been destroyed during the Revolution. Some of these -preserved within their hearts a generous instinct of maternity, which -Julienne easily managed to waken. She fell into the habit of running -across to break the rule of everlasting silence in that fairly cheerful -environment, and, in defiance of the prohibition against intimacy, she -turned the old ladies into personal friends. She listened attentively, -and remembered much, and forty years later she could describe correctly -the names, appearance, and habits of that picturesque group, somewhat -archaic, but invariably courteous and witty. - -Perhaps because of this slight lifting of the veil, Julienne began -already, at the age of sixteen, to fix her eager gaze beyond the -cloister and the gate. Perhaps also some instinct of dignity and -self-respect urged her to learn something of the world before entering -the novitiate to pronounce her vows. However this may be, it seems -certain that, on the solemn occasion of her presentation to the -Archbishop of Paris, Monsignor Quelen, as a postulant, she managed to -convey that her vocation was of the frailest, and her desire for the -world, deeply rooted. The prelate understood, and signified to the nuns -that this particular lamb desired to wander. That very evening Julienne -left the convent. - -Here follows a somewhat obscure interlude in the girl's life. We meet -her next among the pupils of the sculptor Pradier, in 1825. - -James Pradier: to those of our generation this name recalls merely a -number of groups and statues: statues more graceful than chaste, groups -more elegant than virile; the work of a master who aimed at rivalling -Praxiteles, but only succeeded in treading in the footsteps of Clodion. - -Pradier, however, only needs a careful biographer to acquire another -kind of celebrity: that of an artist, _grand viveur_, magnificent and -vain, careless and weak, born too late to lead without scandal the -frivolous life he loved, too early to acquire by industry the fortune -needed for the indulgence of his tastes. - -Twice a week his studio was transformed into a drawing-room, and his -receptions were attended by a most varied company: painters and poets, -models, actresses, dames of high degree, politicians and men of the -sword--all society, in short, liked to be seen in the Rue de l'Abbaye. - -Clad in high boots, cut low in front, in violet velvet trousers and a -coat of the same material decorated with Polish brandebergs, flanked by -a Scotch greyhound almost as big as himself, the master of the house -received his visitors, listened to them, talked with them, without -interrupting his work; he created fresh marvels with the chisel while -the conversation flowed unrestrained, and thus his labours became -simultaneously a gossip and a spectacle. - -In the novel excitement of surroundings so brilliant, so varied, and of -morals so easy, Julienne committed the imprudence which was to settle -the fate of her whole life. Thanks to her independent spirit, and still -more to her beauty, she very soon established her position in Pradier's -house. She came there often, remained long, and consented to pose for -him.[2] - -And when, one day, the sculptor desired for himself this flower, so -superior in delicacy and aroma to those usually found in the studios, he -had but to bend down and pluck it. - -[Illustration: CLAIRE PRADIER AS A CHILD. - -From an unpublished drawing by Pradier.] - -He made Julienne his mistress in 1825. In 1826 she gave him a little -daughter whom we shall meet again later. But now arose difficulties of a -practical nature. James Pradier, ex-Prix de Rome, Chevalier de la Lgion -d'Honneur, Membre de l'Institut, Professeur de l'cole des -Beaux-Arts, could not with propriety, according to his ideas, marry a -model. He does not dream of it for an instant, but, as he wishes to do -the girl some kindness, however unsuitable, he manages to insinuate her -into the theatrical world, and to put her on the boards. Having friends -in Brussels, he decrees that she shall go thither to study and make her -first appearance; and, as she needs guidance, advice, and protection, he -writes her almost every day long letters, in which platitudes alternate -with vulgarity. The correspondence continues, wordy and trivial, -interminable and foolish, a repulsive mixture of boasting and preaching. -Does Julienne show distaste for vaudeville, Pradier proclaims that form -of acting to be the most charming in the world, and places it far above -tragedy, which he pronounces tiresome and chilling. If Julienne -complains that she has but one dress, Pradier tells her that only the -leading lights of the stage possess more. If she ventures a timid -request for money, he answers that he has none himself, and offers her a -book of fairy-tales illustrated under his supervision. - -She had to keep herself alive somehow, and when the poor thing had -pledged everything she possessed at the pawnbroker's, she wrote -plaintively: "This is the only money my talents have earned for me so -far." She might perhaps have been reduced to some desperate measure, had -not chance placed her in the path of Flix Harel. - -Although an incorrigible Bonapartist, and consequently a conspirator by -trade, Harel seems to have been above all a man of the theatre: in the -midst of his political preoccupations, one can always discern his -predilection for things pertaining to the stage. He also had a very -definite conviction that politics and the drama, statesmen and -ballet-dancers, have always been closely linked together. So, whether he -was for the moment pamphleteer, financier, or prefect, whether he was -holding an appointment, or in full flight, he always had a finger in -some theatrical pie, either as a director, a manager, or a private -adviser. At the time he first met Julienne, he was filling the latter -capacity at the Thtre Royal, in Brussels. He presented the young -woman. Without further training than that which Pradier had directed -from afar, we know that she made her first appearance in Brussels, at -the beginning of the year 1829--to be exact, on February 17th. - -On that day she informs Pradier that her dbut has been successful, and -that the Brussels press is favourable. He at once thanks Providence and -decides that she can henceforth support herself by her talent. He -writes: "Is not this a great pleasure to you? Does it not lift a weight -from your heart, you who have such a noble soul? How sweet is the bread -one has earned so honourably! For my part, I feel that all your faults -are condoned by the trouble you are taking. Your perseverance will be -rewarded, never doubt it. Go on working! Time can never hang heavy when -one is labouring honestly; study carries more flowers than thorns." - -Having spoken thus, the artist returned to his business and his -pleasures, not without having exhorted Julienne to remain in Brussels as -long as possible. He was not ignorant of the passionate desire of the -young woman to see her babe once more, but he feared that, if she should -not find an engagement in Paris like the one she enjoyed in Brussels, -she would again be, morally at least, on his hands. Therefore, -redoubling his cautious advice and his counsels of prudence, he implored -her not to relinquish a certainty for an uncertainty. - -However, nothing deterred her. Julienne, as she used to say afterwards, -would rather have trudged the distance that separated her from her -child, on foot, than waited any longer. The events of 1829 spared her -the trouble. Owing to certain evidences of internal discontent, the -government of Charles X was developing liberal proclivities. Among other -political exiles, it allowed Flix Harel to return, and with him his -illustrious mistress, Mlle. Georges. Julienne shared their lot. She -accompanied them, not only to Paris, but to the Theatre of the Porte St. -Martin, which, under Harel's influence, rapidly became the stronghold of -romanticism, and on February 27th, 1830, she made her dbut on its -boards in the part of Emma, in _L'Homme du Monde_, by Ancelot and -Saintine. Then she migrated almost at once to the Odon, of which Harel -had just undertaken the management, without, however, resigning that of -the Porte St. Martin. She played various parts there throughout the year -1831. - -We shall hear later on that she was beautiful, but for the present we -must confine ourselves to the question of her talent and dramatic -qualities. It has been hinted that she owed her success solely to her -lovely face and graceful figure, and that she was one of those ephemeral -favourites who reap popular applause in return for the exhibition of -their charms. The truth seems to be that "la belle Juliette," as she was -already called, gave proofs of distinguished powers, although one is -fain to admit that, at this distance of time, it is not easy to define -her capacity with any exactitude. For one thing, it was never Juliette's -good fortune to play an important part which has since become a classic, -and by which her true qualities could be gauged: in Harel's troupe the -first-class parts were already justly monopolised by Mlle. Georges and -Madame Dorval. Also, nearly all the plays in which Juliette appeared are -nowadays looked upon as antiquated and sometimes even absurd. In fact, -it is difficult to conceive how they ever could have been given. It will -be wiser, therefore, to rely mainly on Pradier's letters to discover -what were the natural gifts which could have inspired that artist to -make of his mistress an actress, and even a tragedian. - -Pradier, then, considered Juliette well equipped by nature in respect of -sentiment, intelligence, and voice production; but he criticised in her -a certain timidity and lack of assurance, sufficient to mar her -entrances and cover her exits with ridicule. He also thought fit to -observe to her that, once she was on the scene, and had overcome her -initial fright, she overacted her parts, and was not sufficiently -natural; she forgot to address herself to the audience, and would speak -into the wings, and neglect to vary her gestures, intonations, and -pauses. - -To sum up, fire, intelligence, and an adequate vocal organ, but shyness, -awkwardness, monotonous delivery, and hesitation in gesture and gait: -such seem to have been the dramatic qualities and shortcomings of "la -belle Juliette." The testimony of Pradier has been confirmed by that of -_L'Artiste_. If there is any need to say more, we can judge by an -analysis of her engagements with Harel. - -On February 7th, 1832, Harel signs a contract with her for thirteen -months, to begin from the March 1st following. He brings her back from -the Odon to the Porte St. Martin, and promises her the modest salary of -four thousand francs per annum, payable monthly. But he does not treat -her as a "general utility" actress--on the contrary, he insists that she -keep principally to the part of _jeune premire_ in comedy, tragedy, and -drama; that she learn daily at least forty lines or verses of the parts -which shall be allotted to her; that she furnish at her own expense all -the dresses necessary for her parts; that she be present at all -rehearsals called by the administration of the theatre. On January 13th, -1833, the two agree that the engagement shall be prolonged on the same -conditions until April 1st, 1834. Between whiles, Juliette continued to -create parts. - -It must be confessed that she led the customary life of a theatrical -star. From the Boulevard St. Denis, where she lived, to the Boulevard du -Temple, which was then the hub of the social world and the centre of -amusement, the distance was negligible. She was therefore present at -every scene of this ceaseless round of entertainment. Her wardrobe -enjoyed a certain renown. Her journeys, one of which was to Italy -towards the end of 1832, helped to keep her before the public. Beautiful -as a goddess, merrier than ever, her bearing unconcerned, her arm -lightly placed within that of the chance companion of the moment, her -eyes flashing fire, though her heart might be full to bursting, she -sailed towards Cythera without apparent regret, without thought of -return. It was at this moment that Victor Hugo succeeded in bringing her -back into port, and keeping her there for ever, the slave of one master, -the woman of one love. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -PRINCESSE NGRONI - - -Two portraits of Victor Hugo are extant: one by Devria executed in -1829, the other by Lon Nol in 1832.[3] What a change is visible in the -short space of three years! The "monumental" brow which reminded -Thophile Gautier of the "fronton de temple Grec" is the same; but, -whereas in 1829 it was instinct with lofty thought and pleasant fancies, -in 1832 worry and suspicion have already scored it deeply with lines of -care. In 1829 Devria recognised and rendered the characteristic -expression of the poet: that bright, upward glance which ten years -before had caused the author of the _Odes_ to be compared to a -stained-glass archangel. In 1832 Lon Nol saw a fixed, overshadowed -gaze, whose severity is further accentuated by knitted brows. In 1829 -fleshy, sinuous lips always half ready for a smile or a kiss, indicate -both sensuality and humour. In 1832 they are tightly compressed, their -outline exaggeratedly firm; they give the impression of having forgotten -joy and learnt to express only will. Even in the quality of the -flesh-tints the artists disagree. According to Devria the pallor -natural to the poet bears the impress of health and placidity, whereas -Lon Nol's rendering reveals sickliness and a sense of doom. - -What, then, had happened between the dates of the two portraits? Had the -whole character of the poet changed? Had he lost some precious article -of faith or conviction, or was it that the mainspring of his enthusiasm -had failed him? Nay--his soul still cherished the same treasures of -idealism. The former penitent of the Abb Lammenais still preserved at -thirty his ardent, perhaps even narrow Catholicism, his cult of purity, -his contempt for physical indulgence, his delight in the joys and duties -of family life. Eager for self-sacrifice, rich in the hopes and -illusions he confided to his few intimate friends, he dreamed of sharing -everything with the people, towards whom the trend of events inclined -him to turn; just as he had once written _Les Lettres la fiance_ for -a single reader, so he had now published for the crowd _Les Feuilles -d'Automne_, the curious preface to that collection, and in the -collection itself the sublime _Prire pour tous_. His was a soul -profoundly religious, and a lofty mind which aspired to raise itself -ever higher. - -But he did not live by thought alone. Many of those who watched him -working without intermission, with a method and a will that defied human -weakness, who saw how numerous were his lectures, how varied his -researches, and who witnessed the incessant travail of his imagination, -thought that the author of _Hernani_ and _Dona Sol_ must be lacking in -human sensibility. He protests against this. In a letter to Sainte-Beuve -he says: "I live only by my emotions; to love, or to crave for love and -friendship, is the fundamental aim--happy or unhappy, public or -private--of my life."[4] He might equally have added: "That is why for -the last two years my brow is no longer placid, why my eyes seek the -ground, why my lips are so bitterly compressed." - -The secret of the change in Victor Hugo's physiognomy lies in the -treachery of his wife and his best friend. Love and friendship failed -him together. His moral distress was immense, his pain unfathomable. -They inspired him with plaints so touching that, after hearing them, one -asks oneself whether it can ever be possible for him to forget or -recover. One despairs of the healing of the man who writes: "I have -acquired the conviction that it is possible for the one who possesses -all my love to cease to care for me. I am no longer happy."[5] - -Calmness did return to him, however. It was thus: For the last ten -years, that is, practically ever since her marriage, Madame Victor Hugo -had behaved in such a manner that when the day of the betrayal, in which -she was the accomplice of his friend, dawned, the poet was able to -consider her with contempt. Although fairly gifted in appearance, she -possessed neither taste nor cleverness in the matter of dress; she had -always shown herself to him in careless attire and unfashionable gowns. -Absent-minded and limited in intelligence, she remained uncultured and -oblivious of the genius of her husband, and of achievements of which she -appreciated only the financial value. In addition, she had declined to -share the noble ideal originally proposed to her by her -twenty-year-old bridegroom: love considered as "the ardent and pure -union of two souls, a union begun on earth to end not even in -heaven."[6] The poet was thus authorised, and even forced, to seek -happiness in the arms of some other woman. If Victor Hugo had wished to -avoid that "other woman " he would have had to remain for ever concealed -in his tower of ivory--which certainly did not happen. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO AS A YOUNG MAN. - -In the possession of M. le D. F. Jousseaume.] - -He emerged from it in the spring of 1832, on May 26th, and appeared at -an artists' ball. There he saw Juliette for the first time; but she was -so beautiful and so captivating that he was afraid of her, and dared not -address her. Five years later he recorded this impression of admiring -timidity in the book in which they had agreed to celebrate all their -anniversaries, namely the _Voix Intrieures_.[7] - -For more than six months the poet lacked the courage to seek his vision -again, but in the early days of 1833 he found Juliette among the -actresses Harel suggested to him at the Porte St. Martin for his play, -_Lucrce Borgia_. He accepted her at once and gave her a small part, -that of Princesse Ngroni. Then the rehearsals began. Juliette admits in -one of her letters that she showed herself very coquettish and -mischievous. - -According to her, the poet made up his mind the first day and the first -hour. But matters did not really proceed so easily. Victor Hugo, who, as -stated above, cherished the highest and purest moral ideal, must have -carried his principles with him into the wings and on the stage. He was -not partial to actresses; he was suspicious of them, and made no secret -of the feeling. One must picture him rather as on the defensive than -bold and adventurous. - -His attire and appearance were not calculated to ensure his social -success. We hear from Juliette herself that he wore his hair _en -broussaille_, and that his smile revealed "crocodile's teeth." Allowing -himself to be dressed by his tailor in the fashions of four or five -years earlier, his trousers were firmly braced above the waist, tightly -drawn over his boots, and fastened under the instep by a steel chain. To -sum up, as a dandy who writes these details concludes, he was a worthy -citizen desirous of being in the fashion, but unable to compass it. - -Fortunately the said citizen could speak, and his words of gold were -sufficient to gloss over any personal disadvantages. To men he -discoursed of his hopes and plans, and even his forecasts for the -future; to women of their beauty and the supremacy of such a gift. Men -found his arrogance intolerable, and complained that they must always -either listen, or talk to him of himself. But women liked him for -abasing his pride before them; they appreciated his good manners, his -urbanity, and the incomparable art with which he cast his laurels at -their feet. The god took on humanity for them; they were careful to pose -as goddesses before him. Juliette possessed everything needful to -accomplish this end. - -She was about to enter her twenty-sixth year; very shortly afterwards, -Thophile Gautier wrote this fulsome description of her, to please the -master: - -"Mademoiselle Juliette's countenance is of a regular and delicate -beauty; the nose chiselled and of handsome outline, the eyes limpid and -diamond-bright, the mouth moistly crimson, and tiny even in her gayest -fits of laughter. These features, charming in themselves, are set in an -oval of the suavest and most harmonious form. A clear, serene forehead -like the marble of a Greek temple crowns this delicious face; abundant -black hair, with wonderful reflections in it, brings out the diaphanous -and lustrous purity of her complexion. Her neck, shoulders, and arms, -are of classic perfection; she would be a worthy inspiration to -sculptors, and is well equipped to enter into competition with those -beautiful young Athenians who lowered their veils before the gaze of -Praxiteles conceiving his Venus.[8] - -These elegant phrases probably represent very imperfectly the impression -produced by Juliette. We have had the privilege of perusing some of the -proposals addressed to her, and we have read the cruel novel Alphonse -Karr prided himself on having written about her.[9] Everything conspires -to show that she shone and dazzled especially by her all-conquering air -of youth and ingenuousness. When she passed, spring was over. Her age, -condition, manner of life, had made of her a woman, while her smile and -movements kept her still a girl. Her gait was, in fact, so fairy-like -that her admirers all make use, certainly without collusion, of the -adjective, "arien." Her face presented a perfect image of calmness and -purity. Did she raise her eyes, a soft, velvety, sometimes mournful gaze -was revealed--did she lower them, it was still the dawn, but a dawn -concealing itself behind a veil. - -All beautiful countenances have a soul; upon Juliette's could be read -less contentment than unsatisfied ardour, more melancholy than -serenity. Neither luxury, nor pleasure, nor flattery, was able to -satisfy the dearest desire of her heart from the age of sixteen, which -was, to become the passionate companion of an honest man. She lent -herself to her lovers, but her eyes made it plain that she still sought -the perfect one to whom she would some day capitulate. According to -herself--and we have no reason to doubt her--she selected Victor Hugo as -soon as she made his acquaintance. She expended herself in advances and -coquetries, and infused into the study and expression of her small part -all the art of which she was capable. In the third act of the play, when -Maffio said to her: "_L'amiti ne remplit pas tout le c[oe]ur_," she had -to query: "_Mon Dieu, qu'est-ce qui remplit tout le c[oe]ur?_" It seems -that at rehearsals she did not wait for Maffio's answer, but turned -subtly towards the poet and sought him with her eyes. He, however, still -hung back; a tradition attributed to Frdrick Lematre, which we have -carefully verified,[10] informs us that he surprised even the actors of -the Porte St. Martin by the respectful tone he maintained towards his -beautiful interpreter. Far from addressing her in the familiar manner -customary in theatrical circles, he called her Mademoiselle Juliette, -kissed her hand, and bowed low before her. Frdrick could not believe -his eyes. - -At last the evening of the first performance arrived; the success of the -piece was immediate. Juliette had her share of it. She was so beautiful -as the poisoner that, as Thophile Gautier says, the public forgot to -pity her unhappy guests and thought them fortunate to die after kissing -her hand.[11] After the third act she received congratulations even from -Mademoiselle Georges, who folded her in her arms and covered her with -kisses. As for the author, we do not know what he did in the first -blush, but the next morning he wrote thus: - -"In _Lucrce Borgia_, certain personages of secondary importance are -represented at the Porte St. Martin by actors of the first order, who -perform with grace, loyalty, and perfect taste, in the semi-obscurity of -their parts. The author here thanks them. Among these, the public -particularly distinguished Mademoiselle Juliette. It can hardly be said -that Princesse Ngroni is a part: it is in some sense an apparition; a -figure, beautiful, young, fatal, which floats by, raising one corner of -the sombre veil that covers Italy at the commencement of the sixteenth -century. Mademoiselle Juliette threw into this figure an extraordinary -virility. She had few words to say, but she filled them with meaning. -This actress only requires opportunity, to reveal forcibly to the public -a talent full of soulfulness, passion, and truth."[12] - -Nothing could be better said or more openly declared, and the -interpreter of the part was thus informed of the intentions of the -author. He adopts her, makes her his own, is ready to share his own -glory with the youthful renown of Ngroni. For her he will conceive -marvellous parts; she will create them. - -Juliette understood him perfectly. With the ardour of a -twenty-five-year-old imagination excited by love, she began to dream of -her poet, of their two lives henceforward united in a common success. -While Victor still wavered, still hesitated whether to seek this actress -of whom thousands of alarming anecdotes were current, she made foolish -projects, settled trivial details, savoured one by one those joys of the -dawn of love which so many women prefer to the delights of possession. - -He came at last on February 27th, Shrove Sunday, towards the end of the -afternoon. The weather had been beautiful, one of those soft spring days -that enhance the beauty of Parisian women and make the men pensive. The -streets were littered with booths, noisy with fireworks, discordant with -raucous voices. The Boulevard du Temple exploited a fair where, on that -particular day, masks and songs added variety and movement. - -Victor Hugo, who lived in the Place Royale and never drove in a cab, had -to cross this scene on foot. His thoughts were still confused; he, who -was ordinarily so determined in his plans, still debated whether he -should mount the actress's stairs. After all, this child seemed fond of -him--but whom was she not fond of? Who was there that did not figure on -the list of her lovers? Yesterday, Alphonse Karr, loutish, a babbler, a -writer of romances, fairly honest, but so ponderous in his pretentious -and everlasting coat of black velvet! To-day a Russian Prince who was -said to have offered Juliette a marvellous trousseau, copied from the -wedding outfit of Madame la Duchesse d'Orlans. He was also credited -with the intention of installing her in a sumptuous apartment in the Rue -de l'chiquier.... What should a poet, a great poet conscious of his -mission, want with such a girl? - -Then a voice sang in the memory of Victor Hugo, a voice almost -supernatural, like those with which he used to endow the good fairies in -the days when he covered the margins of his lesson-books with fancies. -"_Mon Dieu_," it wailed, "_qu'est-ce qui remplit tout le c[oe]ur?_" And -at last the poet walked up to place the answer at the feet of his new -friend. - -Like all great hearts, Victor and Juliette fell head over ears in love, -and thought of nothing else. The poet was no longer to be found in the -Place Royale, or, if he was, he remained abstracted, a stranger at his -own hearth. He, usually so precise, so punctual and methodical, now -neglects his guests and is late for meals. When evening comes and his -drawing-room is filled with voices, song, and discussion, and with women -who smile upon him and men who render him homage, he forgets everything, -even to be polite. His eye is on the clock, he longs for the blessed -hour of the _rendezvous_ at 9, Rue St. Denis. Sometimes he snatches up a -stray sheet of paper and scribbles feverishly. Verse or prose? More -often it is verse, for it will be offered to Juliette, and nothing -flatters her so much as these poetical surprises created in the midst of -the din and diversions of a social circle. - -Neither did she give herself in niggardly fashion. From the very -beginning she said to him: "I am good for nothing but to love you!" She -threw herself thoroughly, magnificently, into the part. - -Thus quoth she--and wrote likewise, for she, also, wrote from -everywhere: from her room, from a friend's house, from her box at the -theatre, from a chance caf. For her tender "scribbles," as she calls -them, any scrap of paper will serve, even an envelope or the margin of a -newspaper; and for instrument a pencil, a blackened pin, even a steel -pen, that novel invention of which every one is talking, but which she -hardly knows how to use. - -Of the form of her letters she takes little heed. No lexicon is needed -to say that one loves. A woman in the throes of passion does not worry -about grammar. Juliette is of that opinion, and that is why her early -letters are so full of charm. They exhale the perfume of love, and also -its timidity. - -Her letters were not merely a means of giving vent to her feelings: they -seemed to her the only occupation fit for a sweetheart worthy of the -name, when the lover is absent or delayed. On February 18th, 1833, -Victor Hugo had left her early in the morning. She had rushed to the -window to follow him with her eyes as long as he was in sight. At the -corner of the Rue St. Denis, as he was about to turn into the Rue St. -Martin, he looked back; they exchanged a volley of kisses. Then she -found herself lonely indeed, oblivious of her surroundings, like a -somnambulist who walks and speaks and acts in a dream. Around her was an -immense void, in her heart one sole desire: to see the poet again, and -never to part from him. It was to fill that void and beguile that desire -that she took up the habit of writing to him. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN THE RLE OF LA PRINCESSE NGRONI.] - -He, on his part, repaid letters and messages as much as possible with -his own presence. Any time he could snatch from his children and work -and visits to publishers or theatre-managers, he gave to Juliette. As -_Lucrce Borgia_ continued to reap a signal success--the greatest, from -the financial point of view, that the Porte St. Martin had ever -experienced--Harel asked the author for a new play. Victor Hugo wrote -_Marie Tudor_ in very few days, and the principal parts had just been -allotted: to Mademoiselle Georges the Queen, to Juliette, Jane. Under -pretext of rehearsing, we find our lovers lunching together almost every -day. If there was really a rehearsal, they met again afterwards on the -stage, and tasted the rare pleasure of sharing their work, as they -shared their pleasure. When they did not rehearse, they hurried out of -town. Furtively yet boldly, timidly but merrily, they started on one of -those strolls, partly Parisian, and partly suburban, which, according to -Juliette, were the chief enchantment of their _liaison_. - -Paris was not then the dusty conglomeration of eight-story-high houses -it now is. Instead of spreading over the surrounding country, it allowed -the country to encroach upon itself. At the foot of Montmartre (which -Juliette always calls a _mountain_), real windmills waved their long -arms; along the Butte aux Cailles a genuine brook purled among the -lilacs and syringa; on the summit of Montparnasse, when there was -dancing, artists and poets, dandies and grisettes, trod actual grass, to -the sound of fiddles! Juliette had always in her a strain of -bohemianism. We may therefore picture her in short, striped, pleated -skirt, tight at the waist but flowing out wide at the bottom over white -stockings, a little silken cape covering her queenly young bosom, -without concealing its fine lines, her head surmounted by a rose-trimmed -bonnet with black ribbons, clasping the arm of her "friend" with -sparkling eyes and cheeks as rosy as her headdress. Happiness, as she -used to say in after-days, is so light to carry, that her feet hardly -touched the ground. Her pride in her companion was such that her glance -defied Heaven. "When I hold your arm," she wrote to him, "I am as proud -as if I had made you myself." - -She did _re_make him, to a certain extent, for it was she who insisted -upon his becoming younger and smarter in appearance. He now trained his -chestnut locks over his Olympian brow, in careful but unromantic -fashion; his black eyes, with their blue depths, resumed their upward -glance, when they were not plunged in those of his mistress; his -complexion, which had been so pale, now gained colour, and soon, when -Auguste de Chtillon paints the poet's miniature for Juliette's -pleasure, he will be able to endow him with lips less eloquent than -caressing, without straying from the truth. "The dear little -fashionable," as his companion called him, compressed his sturdy figure -into a really handsome blue coat opening over a shot waistcoat. His -immaculate linen, and the scarlet ribbon of the order Charles X had -bestowed upon him in his youth, stood out in pleasant contrast to the -sombre hue of his coat. His tiny feet, and hands as delicate as -Juliette's own, completed this somewhat incongruous exterior. - -And the two made expeditions together, wherever they knew of, or hoped -to find, moss and trees, and an attractive shelter. They went to -Montmartre and Montrouge, to Maison Blanche and St. James, to Bictre -and Meudon, Fontainebleau, Gisors, St. Germain-en-Laye, and Versailles. -Sometimes the poet pondered his work as he walked. Silence was then the -order of the day; so Juliette was silent. But more often they talked, -made plans for the future, babbled merry nonsense, and exchanged kisses. -Or else they discussed their past: Victor told of his studious childhood -spent poring over books, of his early works, laborious and chaste. -Juliette recalled her bare-footed school-girl pranks. Both gloried in -the radiant memories of their youth. - -But in the midst of those halcyon days of simple pleasures, Fate began -to show herself unkind. First came the failure of _Marie Tudor_, then -Juliette's disappointment at the Comdie Franaise, and, in addition, -the persecution of her creditors and the consequent quarrels with Victor -Hugo, with their subsequent scenes of tender reconciliation. - -The poor girl was, in fact, overwhelmed with debt. When Victor Hugo, -desirous of setting her free for ever, asked her to draw up a detailed -statement of her affairs, she nearly broke down under the task, for -there were not only ordinary bills, such as 12,000 fr. to Janisset the -jeweller, 1,000 fr. to Poivin the glove-maker, 600 fr. to the laundress, -260 fr. to Georges the hair-dresser, 400 fr. to Villain the purveyor of -rouge, 620 fr. to Madame Ladon, dressmaker, 2,500 fr. to Mesdames -Lebreton and Grard for dress materials, 1,700 fr. to Jourdain the -upholsterer--but also fictitious and usurious debts intended to disguise -money loans, and all the more numerous because they were for the most -part invented under the direction of an attorney who answered to the -name of Manire. She took good care not to reveal to Victor Hugo, whose -own burdens, and practical, economical mind, she was well acquainted -with, the amount of her expenditure and the magnitude of her -liabilities. The moment came, however, when the creditors realised that -they had to deal with a pretty woman inefficiently vouched for by a -poet. They lost patience and threatened her, and it was then that -Juliette had recourse to money-lenders. The remedy was worse than the -evil. Stamped paper soon flooded her rooms. Her furniture was seized, -and also her salaries from the Thtre Franais and the Porte St. -Martin. She tried to save a few clothes, and was had up for illegally -making away with the creditors' property. Her landlord threatened her -with expulsion; she imagined herself homeless, and lost her head. - -Instead of confiding in Victor Hugo, her natural protector, she had -recourse to former friends. There were many such, from Pradier, the -sculptor, to Schan, the scene-painter of the Opera and other theatres. -Pradier replied with advice; he was not without just pretext for -refusal, for, since her intrigue with Victor Hugo, Juliette no longer -wrote to the father of her child except "_par accident et monosyllabes_" -or else in a school-girl's handwriting, calculated to cover the pages in -very few words. Schan and a few others were less stingy; they sent -small but quite insufficient contributions. She was therefore forced to -take the big step of revealing the whole truth to the beloved. - -The scene was stormy, although Victor Hugo did not hesitate for a moment -before complying with an obligation that was also a satisfaction, since -it secured his possession of Juliette. Fussy and meticulous though he -was in the small circumstances of life, he knew how to be generous and -even lavish in the great--but Juliette's petty deceptions had infused -doubts in his mind; moreover, he was in love and therefore jealous. -Towards the end of 1833 and in the early part of 1834, suspicion, anger, -unjust recriminations and noisy quarrels became almost daily affairs. As -invariably happens in these cases, friends, male and female, interfered. -Juliette was slandered by Mademoiselle Ida Ferrier, her understudy in -the rle of Jane at the Porte St. Martin--who would, if rumour may be -trusted, have gladly understudied her also in the heart of Victor -Hugo--also by Mademoiselle Georges, who was getting on in years[13] and -could not forgive the lovers for not acknowledging her sovereignty in -the green-room and drawing-room as they admitted it upon the stage. To -aspersions and reproaches Juliette opposed, not only indignation, but -angry words, violent retorts, and sometimes even insulting epithets; or -else she protested in innumerable letters and notes, rendered eloquent -by their sincerity. She complained that she was "attacked without the -means of defence, soiled without opportunity of cleansing herself, -wounded without chance of healing"; she affirmed her intention of -putting an end to the situation by suicide or final rupture. Generally -Victor Hugo arrived in time to calm her frenzy with a caress or a -soothing word, and then Juliette would try to resign herself and let -hope spring uppermost once more. But Victor Hugo, under the influence of -some new tittle-tattle, resumed his grand-inquisitorial manner, and the -tone, words, reproaches and even threats appertaining to the part. The -creditors continued to harry her without intermission; so in the end the -couple passed from words to actions. - -As we have stated above, Juliette's furniture had been seized, and she -was about to be turned out of her apartment in the Rue de l'chiquier. -She had endeavoured vainly to interest her friends, past and present, in -her difficulties. Even Victor Hugo, disheartened probably by the -difficulties of the task, had returned a refusal. The lovers therefore -exchanged farewells which they thought final, and on August 3rd Juliette -started for St. Renan, near Brest, where her sister, Madame Kock, was -living. Happily she travelled by the Rennes diligence, and there were -many halts on the way. From the very first of these she sent an adoring -letter to the poet. She wrote again from Rennes, from Brest once more, -and lastly from St. Renan. Victor Hugo responded with expressions of -poignant regret and remorse, according to those who have read them. He -promised to do his very best to find the few necessary banknotes to -satisfy the biggest creditors. In the end, he set out for Rennes -himself, and rejoined his friend. The lovers returned to Paris on August -10th. - -Now commences the most singular period of the life of Juliette, one -which has been aptly entitled an "amorous redemption after the romantic -manner."[14] For nearly two years Victor Hugo, taking his mistress as -the subject of his experiment, put into practice the theories, in part -religious, and in part philosophical, which he professed concerning -courtesans, namely: the expiation of faults by faithful, passionate, -disinterested love; love itself being considered as a species of -_sesame_, capable of opening wide the doors of science, and throwing -light upon all hidden things. - -The first condition of redemption was poverty, voluntarily, almost -joyously, accepted. The furniture of the Rue de l'chiquier must be sold -and the beautiful rooms given up. A tiny apartment consisting of two -rooms and a kitchen was taken for Juliette at No. 4, Rue du Paradis au -Marais, at a yearly rental of 400 fr. There she shivered through the -winter, and spent part of her days in bed to economise her fuel; but at -least she proved that she loved truly and was deserving of love. - -No more dresses or jewels ... every evening Victor Hugo repeated to his -mistress that dress adds nothing to the charms of a lovely woman, that -it is waste of time to try to add to nature where nature herself is -beautiful; and proudly, as if indeed she were clothed in the hair-shirt -of her former mistresses at the convent, Juliette wrote: "My poverty, my -clumsy shoes, my faded curtains, my metal spoons, the absence of all -ornament and pleasure apart from our love, testify at every hour and -every minute, that I love you with all my heart." - -But there can be no true reformation or conversion without work. So -Juliette must work; she must study her parts, make her clothes and even -some of Victor Hugo's, patch others, keep her little house in order, and -spend what leisure she can snatch, in copying the works of the master, -cutting out extracts from the newspapers, classifying and collecting his -manuscripts and proofs. - -When he had completed this splendid programme, of which almost every -part, as we shall presently see, was carried out to the letter, the poet -experienced an overpowering need to find himself alone somewhere with -the woman he had finally subjugated. His mind was still quite Virgilian. -He had not yet arrived at confusing duty with politics and happiness -with popularity. His greatest enjoyment, next to love, was in rural -pursuits, and for the indulgence of these he flattered himself he had -discovered in Juliette a companion worthy of himself. The lovers had -barely settled in the Rue du Paradis au Marais before they went off to -the valley of Bivres. Half mystics, half pagans, worshipping equally at -the shrines of the forest divinities and those of the village churches, -they entered upon the consummation of what they themselves called their -"marriage of escaped birds." - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN THE RLE OF LA PRINCESSE NGRONI.] - -[Illustration: HOUSE IN THE VILLAGE OF LES METZ, IN THE PARISH OF -JOUY-EN-JOSAS, SEINE-ET-OISE, - -In which Juliette Drouet lived while Victor Hugo was staying at Les -Roches. This is the house referred to in _La Tristesse d'Olympio_.] - - - - -CHAPTER III - -"LA TRISTESSE D'OLYMPIO" - - -In the neighbourhood of Paris, about four miles from Versailles, nestles -a valley which the modern devotees of romance should deem worthy of a -visit. Not because it boasts of any special features, such as mighty -torrents thundering from giddy heights into abysmal precipices below--on -the contrary, its character is harmonious and serene, more like a French -park decked with flowers by nature, and watered by chance--but because -in these classic surroundings, about the year 1830, circumstances led -the great men of the new school to seek temporary repose for their -fretted souls. To us, these peaceful meadows, flanked by pensive willows -weeping on the borders of the silent Bivres, must evermore be peopled -by those troubled shades: by Lammenais, the priestly keeper of -consciences, Montalembert, the angelic doctor, Sainte-Beuve, the -purveyor of ideas, Berlioz, the musician, and, lastly, by the poet, -Victor Hugo, who followed meekly in the rear, while awaiting the glory -of conducting the procession. - -They used to arrive in the summer, some for a couple of days, others for -weeks together, to stay with Monsieur Bertin, editor of the _Journal des -Dbts_ and owner of Les Roches,[15] a property situated midway between -the villages of Bivres and Jouy-en-Josas. Genial and lively, as Ingres -represents him in his celebrated portrait, Monsieur Bertin loved to -divine, promote, and, where needful, encourage their vocations and -plans. His housekeeping was on a modest scale, but his hospitality -delightful--a mixture of go-as-you-please and kindly despotism; perfect -freedom outwardly, but, in reality, careful ministrations skilfully -disguised. Louise Bertin, the eldest daughter of the old man, and one of -the muses of the period, willingly divided her time between the kitchen -and the drawing-room, cookery-books and poems. As an ardent musician, -tolerably familiar with the best literature, her mind was full of -quaintness, while her heart was instinct with kindliness. When, -perchance, she had surfeited her guests with sonatas and song, she would -be seized with fear lest she should be interfering with their habits or -inclinations, and would hastily substitute anarchy, by commanding each -one to choose his own occupation, and pursue his meditation, walk, or -game unhindered. - -Of them all, Victor Hugo seems to have been the girl's favourite, and -the one who made the largest use of this generous welcome and charming -liberty. As soon as the periwinkles blossomed, he settled his wife and -children at Les Roches, while he himself came and went between Paris and -Bivres. Gradually he grew to associate the valley with his joys and -sorrows; it became one of those familiar haunts to which one -instinctively turns, with the comforting assurance of finding there the -outward conditions suitable to one's moods. As a young father, he made -it the fitting frame for family joys; when his love was flung back in -his face and his friendship betrayed, he returned to seek, if not -consolation, at least faith and hope for the future. A year later, again -under the shelter of Les Roches, he thought he had found solace. The -valley meant something more than an invitation to dawdle: it filled him -with sensuous suggestion; he longed to place his ideal of an -unquenchable love at the feet of a woman, and to pronounce the word -"Forever." - -With the connivance of Madame Victor Hugo, who shut her eyes, and that -of Mademoiselle Louise Bertin, who smiled her toleration,[16] this -happiness came to him at length; not indeed in the first year of his -passion for Juliette, but in the early part of the second. He brought -his mistress to Bivres and to Jouy on July 4th, 1834, a little before -the tragic crisis that so nearly separated the lovers, as we have -related in the foregoing chapter. - -Juliette immediately fell in love with the scenes the poet had so often -and so eloquently described to her. Of their joint visit to the cu de -France, the little inn at Jouy-en-Josas,[17] she drew up, in fun, one of -those mock official reports in which she excelled. They decided to -return and lunch, no matter where, or how, provided it was neither too -near nor too far from Les Roches. Then they set out in quest of rooms, -which they eventually found in the hamlet of Metz, on the summit of the -hill above Jouy on the northern side. They returned to Paris after -paying over to the proprietor, Sieur Labussire, the sum of 92 frs. for -a year's rent. Thither they came in September for a sojourn of six -weeks, after the troubled interval described above. - -The little house does not seem to have been altered at all.[18] It was -originally built for the game-keeper of the neighbouring chteau, which -belonged to Cambacrs. It still spreads its white frontage, pierced -with green-shuttered windows, against the background of woods. It -consists only of a ground-floor and an attic; a rambling vine covers its -walls; around it are scattered a barn, some outhouses, and an orchard, -whose steep sides slope downwards to a gate opening on to the Jouy road. - -With the assistance of the landlady, Mre Labussire, as she calls her, -Juliette undertook to perform the lighter tasks of housekeeping in the -mornings, and it was understood that Victor Hugo should visit her every -afternoon unless some grave impediment prevented him. - -But the walk from Les Roches to Les Metz was long: not much under two -miles, by rough roads. The lovers agreed therefore to meet half-way, by -a path settled beforehand, and to abandon the Labussire roof-tree for -some leafy bower. Thus began, as Juliette writes, their "bird-life in -the woods." - -Victor Hugo had a choice of three ways when he went to meet his lady. -One led across the valley of Bivres; another, along the pavement,[19] -as the high road from Bivres to Versailles was called; and lastly there -was the woodland path, which they both preferred. Victor Hugo started by -the Vauboyau road, plunged into the woods skirting the boundary of the -Chteau of Les Roches, then, turning to the left, walked straight on as -far as the four cross-roads at l'Homme Mort, and bore to the right -towards the Cour Roland. There, in the hollow of a hundred-year-old -chestnut-tree, all bent and twisted, his lady-love would be awaiting -him. - -Clad in a dress of white jaconet striped with pink, such as she usually -affected, her head covered with an Italian straw hat, left over from the -days of her former affluence, with swelling bosom, rosy cheeks, and -smiling mouth, she resembled a flower springing from the rude calyx -formed by the aged tree. A wide-awake flower, indeed, for, from the -first sign of the approach of Victor Hugo, she would fly to him, and -afford him one more opportunity of admiring the far-famed aerial gait, -that fairy footstep, so light that it had been compared to the sound of -a lyre. - -Then followed kisses, caresses, a flood of soft words, more kisses, and -a rapid rush into the cool green depths whither the twitter of birds -invited them. When they issued forth again, silent now, Juliette walked -first, making it a point of honour to push aside the branches and thorns -before her poet; and he was content, gazing upon the tiny traces left -upon the moss or sand by the feet that looked almost absurd by reason -of their minuteness. - -At the far end of a clearing a fountain burbled. Juliette made a hollow -of her little hands and collected a delicious draught for their burning -lips. Drops dribbled from between her fingers, and, seeing them, her -lover knew that here was a fairy able to "transmute water into -diamonds."[20] - -We must not imagine, however, that the treasure of their love expended -itself entirely in this sportive fashion. If it be true that passion is -the stronger for an admixture of intellect, it follows that only persons -of distinguished parts are capable of extracting the full measure of -delight from sentimental intercourse. Victor Hugo was far too wise to -neglect the training of the sensibilities of his young mistress. Like -some block of rare marble, she submitted herself to this able sculptor -in the charming simplicity of a nature somewhat uncultivated and rugged, -as she herself owns, and he perceived in the formless material the -growing suggestion of the finished statue he was soon to evolve. The -forest was the studio whither he came every afternoon to cultivate, -through novel sensations and delights, his own poetry and eloquence. The -forest gave him colour for colour, music for music.... - -At other times Victor Hugo encouraged in Juliette an inclination for -prayer and tearful repentance. He retained, and she had always -possessed, strong Catholic sensibilities. The mere satisfaction of -sensuality without the hallowing influence of absorbing love spelt -defilement, from their point of view. Hence followed painful remorse for -a past which the lover liked to hear his mistress bewail, and which she -despaired of ever redeeming. Her _rle_ was the abasement of Magdalen; -his, the somewhat strained attitude of an apostle or saviour. - -Nothing could be more peaceful or uneventful than Juliette's evenings. -She devoured with the appetite of an ogress the frugal supper put before -her by Madame Labussire, repaired the damage done to her clothes by the -afternoon's ramble, or studied some of the parts in which she hoped to -appear sooner or later at the Thtre Franais. At ten o'clock she went -to bed. This was the much-prized moment of her solitude, when she -retired, as she says, into the happy background of her heart to rehearse -in spirit the simple events and delights of the day, to recall the face -of her lover, see him, speak to him, and hang upon his answers; then, as -drowsiness gradually gained the upper hand and clouds dimmed the dear -outline, to surrender to slumber. It was at Les Metz that she coined the -happy phrase: "I fall asleep in the thought of you." Sometimes the wind -moaning in the heights awoke her, and she resumed her sweet musing. The -poet was in the habit of working at night; she would picture him in his -room at Les Roches, bending over his writing-table. Then she "blessed -the gale that made her the companion of the dear little workman's vigil -across the intervening space." - -As soon as dawn broke she was up again. She jumped out of bed, ran to -the window, opened the shutters, and interrogated the heavens--not that -she feared rain, any more than she minded "blisters on her feet or -scratches on her hands"--but she had only two dresses, a woollen and a -linen, and the condition of the weather controlled her choice of the -two. Her toilet was rapid, her breakfast simple. She spent the remaining -time copying the manuscripts confided to her by Victor Hugo. Then, -lightly running, as she says, like a hare across the plain, she started -for the rendezvous. As becomes a loving woman, she was always first at -the trysting-tree. She scrutinised the intertwined initials she herself -had carved upon its bark, or conned again from memory the verses she had -found the day before in its hollow trunk. She "sings them in her heart," -presses them to her bosom, and kisses the letters she has brought in -answer. - -[Illustration: CHURCH OF BIVRES, SEINE-ET-OISE.] - -For the chestnut-tree served them as a letter-box as well as a shelter. -According to an arrangement between them, the first thing they did on -arrival was to deposit within its friendly shade everything they had -written in the course of the preceding day for, or about, one another. -On Juliette's part, especially, the letters became more and more -numerous: two, four, sometimes six per day. She no longer wrote, as at -first, to expatiate upon her passion or assure the poet that she loved -him with real love, or to relieve boredom and make the hours of her -solitude pass more quickly. She wrote because Victor Hugo, who had -formerly been indifferent to her "scribbles," now exacted them as a -daily tribute, and reproached her if they were too brief or not numerous -enough. This jealous lover had discovered the advantages of a pretty -woman's mania for writing. When thus occupied, he reflected, she is -contented. He also found that her letters were full of enthusiasm, -humour, feeling, fun, and poetry, and he therefore desired that they -should be preserved; one day, when Juliette had thrown a packet of -them into the fire in a fit of temper, he made her write them all over -again. Juliette might protest prettily, entrench herself behind her -ignorance, and allege her want of intelligence; but the more she pleaded -that she knew not how to write, the more her lover insisted upon her -doing so. No one has ever carried to greater lengths that form of -affectation which consists in vilifying oneself in order to gain praise. -Having thus placed herself, as far as her style is concerned, in the -kneeling position she prefers, Juliette remains there. It is at Les Metz -that her letters commenced to be a hymn of praise in honour of her -divinity. Adoration and excessive adulation are their basis; for form -and imagery, Juliette does not hesitate to borrow from the sacred -writings she had studied at the Convent of Petit-Picpus. Sooth to say, -this mixture of religiosity and passion presents an aspect both -disproportionate and pathetic. When love raises itself--or degrades -itself--to this almost mystical adoration, one cannot be surprised if it -ends by believing in its own virtue. Having adopted the forms of -religion, it insensibly acquires its importance and dignity; it ennobles -itself. - -We do not possess Victor Hugo's answers, but partly from the note-books -in which his lady-love punctiliously copied and dated the poems -addressed to her, and partly from the dates inscribed at the bottom of -each page in the collected works of the poet, we know which of his -verses were composed during his sojourn at Les Metz. It is not too much -to say that the author of _Feuilles d'Automne_ was never more happily -inspired. Nowhere did he more closely approach the classical model he -had chosen at that time, the gentle Virgil. - -The lovers returned to Les Metz twice: once in October 1837 for a few -days, and again, for a day, on September 26th, 1845. In 1837 it was -Victor Hugo who directed the expedition and took the lead. He sought one -by one the traces of their _amours_; his eccentric genius admired -nature's grand indifference, which had failed to preserve them intact -for his honour and pleasure, and, deploring this ingratitude concerning -outward things, he composed that masterpiece, _La Tristesse d'Olympio_. -He laid it at the feet of Juliette, who accepted it, read and reread it, -and learnt it by heart, without criticising it. - -In 1845, the pilgrimage was hers; she planned it and begged for it, -writing on August 19th: "I have an inexpressible longing to see Les Metz -again. We absolutely must go there."[21] - -They did. Early in the month of September Juliette arranged the little -journey. Which dress should she wear? The striped organdy one, or the -blue tarlatan shot with white, she had worn a few months previously, at -the reception of St. Marc Girardin at the Acadmie Franaise? She chose -the former because her lover preferred it; the same reason determined -her to wear a straw hat "trimmed with geraniums above and below the -brim." Thus decked, with cheeks rosier than usual, and eyes glowing, -Juliette climbed with her poet into the omnibus from Paris to Sceaux. - -Victor Hugo disliked omnibuses, and especially that one. He remembered -his many drives in it with his friend Sainte-Beuve, at the time the -latter was most assiduous in his visits to Les Roches, and in spite of -himself he seemed to see the ghost of Joseph Delorme in the back seat, -with his ecclesiastical appearance, and his mania for nestling cosily -between two fat people. Silently the poet dwelt upon these memories, -while Juliette volubly recalled others. She wondered whether they would -find the beggar at the foot of the Bivres hill, into whose hands she -had often emptied her purse, in order that alms should bring them luck, -and whether the baker in the Square still made those little tarts her -lover used to be so fond of. At last the omnibus deposited them at -Bivres in front of the Chariot d'Or. The striped organdy dress created -a great sensation among the village children. Juliette rushed off to the -little church; nothing was changed--the same simplicity, the same -silence, the same brooding peace as in the old days. The young woman -fell on her knees, then, together, the lovers returned to the Chariot -d'Or, breakfasted, and started to walk to Les Roches. There again, in -Juliette's opinion, everything was unchanged. To the left, behind tall -grasses, the river flowed unseen and unheard. In deference to the needs -of man and those of the valley, its course had been diverted, and it now -spread itself through meadows and orchards. Its presence could be -divined from the abundance of flowers and reeds born of its moisture. -When they reached Les Roches, Juliette insisted upon abandoning the -valley for the forest. They ascended through Vauboyau to the wood of -l'Homme Mort. She walked straight to a chestnut-tree which she said she -recognised; then she found a mountain-ash upon whose bark she had once -carved their interlaced initials; after that the spring, and the paths. -She wished to revisit what she called "the chapels of their love," to -pay at each one a tribute of devotion.[22] - -At length they reached Les Metz and the house of the Labussire. -Delirious enchantment! Everything was just as she remembered it: the -gate, the bell, the kitchen-garden, the mile-stone upon which she used -to sit to watch for her lover when the _rendezvous_ was at the cottage; -the bed, with its curtains of printed cotton, the rustic wardrobe, the -oak table.... "Heaven," she cried, "has put a seal upon all the -treasures of love we buried here! It has preserved them for us," and she -longed to take possession of them all and carry them away with her.[23] - -How charming Juliette is at this moment, and how superior to _Olympio_! -How preferable is her enthusiasm, with its power of bringing back to -life the dead past, to the melancholy which disparages and kills! One -sole interest animates her. Her instinct is creative, for where the poet -sees death she perceives life. The roses he thought faded and scattered, -she admires in full bloom; she can still breathe their perfume. From the -dust and ashes he has tasted and bewailed, she draws the savour of -honey. In this instance, surely, her love does not merely aspire to sit -on the heights with the poet's genius, as she claimed--it soars far -beyond it. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE SHACKLES OF LOVE - - -Victor Hugo never succeeded in making Juliette adopt his conception of -love. He craved something calm, placid, regular as a time-table in its -manifestations; but she was wont to object: "Such a love would soon -cease to exist. A fire that no longer blazes is quickly smothered in -ashes. Only a love that scorches and dazzles is worthy of the name. Mine -is like that." - -And indeed it would not be easy to name an object that this woman did -not cast into the crucible of her passion between the years 1834 and -1851. Everything was sacrificed--comfort, vanity, renown, talent, -liberty. Then she turned to her poet. She adopted his tastes, his -ambitions, his dreams for the future; she shared his joys and sorrows; -she exaggerated his qualities, and sometimes even his faults. She lived -only in him and for him. - -We are about to witness a completeness of self-abnegation that raises -Juliette Drouet almost to the level of the mystics of old; afterwards we -shall scrutinise one by one the details of the cult she rendered to -Victor Hugo. - - -I - -After selling the bulk of her furniture and quitting the luxurious -apartment she occupied at 35, Rue de l'chiquier, Juliette, it will be -remembered, had settled down in a tiny lodging costing 400 frs. a year, -at 4, Rue de Paradis au Marais. She and Victor Hugo determined to live -there together, poor in purse, but rich in love and poetry.[24] The said -love and poetry must indeed have filled their horizon, for they have -left no account whatsoever of that first nesting-place. - -On March 8th, 1836, Juliette removed again to a somewhat more commodious -apartment: 14, Rue St. Anastase, at 800 frs. a year. It comprised a -drawing-room, dining-room, one bedroom, a kitchen, and an attic in which -her servant slept. This district has fallen into decay, and is now dull -and dreary. In those days it was chiefly occupied by the convent of the -Hospitaliers St. Anastase, whence the street took its name, and a few -houses more or less enclosed by gardens. The convent and gardens endowed -it with a provincial tranquillity and an impenetrable silence which -occasionally weighed upon Juliette's spirits. - -Her mode of life was not calculated to enliven her. A degree of poverty -bordering on squalor simplified its details. Little or no fire: Juliette -sometimes even lacks the logs she is by way of providing for herself. -Then she spends the morning in bed, reading, planning, day-dreaming. She -keeps careful accounts of her receipts and expenditure--accounts which -Victor Hugo afterwards audits most minutely. When she rises, the cold -does not prevent her from writing cheerfully, "If you seek warmth in -this room you will have to seek it at the bottom of my heart." - -All luxuries in the way of food were reserved, as in duty bound, for -the suppers the master honoured with his presence after the theatre. The -rest of the time Juliette ate frugally, breakfasting on eggs and milk, -dining on bread and cheese and an apple. When her daughter visited her -she treated her to an orange cut into slices and sprinkled with a -pennyworth of sugar and a pennyworth of brandy. The same simplicity -reigned on high-days and holidays. - -Juliette also denied herself useless fripperies and reduced to the -strictest limits the expenses of her wardrobe. Everything she was able -to make or mend, she made and mended, and it gratified her to compute -the money she saved thus in dressmakers. The rest she bought very -cheaply or did without. In the month of August 1838, when she was about -to start on a journey with Victor Hugo, she found herself in need of -shoes, a dress, and a country hat. She bought the shoes, manufactured -the dress, and had intended to borrow the hat from Madame Kraft; but -this lady, who held some minor post at the Comdie Franaise, only wore -feathered hats, so Juliette curses the extravagance that places her in -an awkward predicament. A little later, on May 7th, 1839, she wanted to -furbish up her mantle with ribbon velvet at 5_d._ a yard; but she found -that she could not do with less than eight yards and a half. She bemoans -her extravagance, saying, "Why, oh, why have I let myself in for this!" - -In studying Juliette's financial position one wonders that so much -privation should be necessary, for, from the very beginning, Victor Hugo -allowed her 600 or 700 frs. a month. He afterwards increased this sum to -800, and finally to 1,000 frs. in 1838, when he began to get better -terms from publishers and theatre-managers. Surely such a sum should -provide ordinary comforts--there should be no suggestion of squalid -poverty? - -The fact is that, in 1834, Victor Hugo had only paid off the most -pressing of Juliette's debts; but the result of his doing so was to -rouse the energies of the rest of the creditors, and Juliette was -overwhelmed by them. Sometimes she managed to pacify them by quaint -expedients. For instance, to Zo, her former maid, she offered, in place -of wages, a box for _Anglo_; to Monsieur Manire, her legal adviser, -she promised that, if he would extend her credit, "Monsieur Victor Hugo -should read with interest" a certain plan of political organisation of -which the said Manire was the author, but which alas, does not yet -figure in the archives of the French constitution! But more often she -was forced to pay, and she had to save off food or dress. Then it was -that money was skimped from the butcher and grocer to satisfy the former -milliner or livery-stable keeper. In the month of May 1835, out of 700 -frs. received, the creditors obtained 316; in June they got another 347; -in July 278. Another cause for pecuniary embarrassment was the -irregularity of Pradier's contribution to the maintenance of his and -Juliette's child. Very often, but for Victor Hugo's assistance, this -item would have been added to the sum-total of her debts. But Juliette -bore everything with the blitheness of a bird. She, who had hated -accounts and arithmetic, now devoted her attention to them every day, -sometimes more than once a day; she, who loathed poverty, encountered -the most sordid privations with a smile; she, who once throve upon debts -and promises to pay, now exclaimed: "I would do anything rather than -fall into debt. How hideous and degrading such a thing is, and how -splendid and noble of you, my adored one, to love me in spite of my -past!"[25] - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO ABOUT 1836. - -From a picture by Louis Boulanger (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -In these circumstances, it is not surprising that she began to seek in -work, especially theatrical work, an addition to her private resources. -She took her career as an artist very seriously, and it was a great -disappointment to her that her lover failed to desire her as an -interpreter of his parts. He certainly did not. He allowed his jealousy -full play, and wished to keep Juliette for himself alone. His tactics -seem to have been to dangle promises ever before her, but to give her -nothing; to procure dramatic engagements for her, and prevent her from -fulfilling them. - -In February 1834 he introduced Juliette to the Comdie Franaise, but a -year later he declined to give her the smallest part in _Anglo_, which -was produced there. In the course of 1836, 1837, 1838, he allowed Marie -Dorval to monopolise all the important _rles_ in his former plays, and -never once attempted to put Juliette's name at the head, or even in the -middle, of the bill. Yet he gave her fine promises in plenty, encouraged -her to learn long passages from _Marion_ and _Dona Sol_, and vowed he -would some day write a play for her alone. - -Thus kept in the background, Juliette passed through exhausting -alternations of despair and confidence, gratitude and jealousy. For, as -may easily be imagined, she was terribly jealous, and her suspicious -mind exercised itself chiefly concerning actresses, whose lively manners -and easy morals she knew, by professional experience. There was Mlle. -Georges, already growing stout, no doubt, but ever ready to raise her -banner and exercise her accustomed sovereignty. There was Mlle. Mars, -who, though her looks were a thing of the past, still endeavoured to -attract attention. Above all, there was Marie Dorval. - -Ah, how Juliette envied Dorval! How she studied her in order to arm -herself against her fancied rivalry! How often she took her moral -measure! She knew that she was of the people, that she tingled with -vitality from head to foot, that, though her primary impulses were -virtuous, nature was yet strong within her.... She was well acquainted -with "the voice that quivered with tears and made its insinuating appeal -to the heart."[26] - -Could Juliette fail to dread such a woman, one so versed by the practice -of her profession in the wiles that attract men? Could she refrain from -warning her lover against her, day after day, like one draws attention -to a danger, a scourge, or a tempest? Far from it--she threatened to -return to the theatre, to act in her lover's plays, to be present at -every rehearsal, to vie with her rival in beauty and talent and ardour. -She learnt parts, and whole scenes, and filled her solitude with the -pleasing phantoms her lover had once created, and that she dreamed of -restoring to life on the stage. - -Months passed; delicate circumstances obliged her to relinquish her plan -of appearing at the Thtre Franais.[27] She was on the verge of -despair when, one evening in the spring of 1838, her lover brought her a -new play he wished to read to her, according to his invariable custom. -It was _Ruy Blas_. She at once claimed the part of Marie de Neubourg, -and fell in love with the melancholy little queen who was hampered and -hemmed in by the trammels of tiquette, as she herself was imprisoned -within the limits of her icy apartment in the Rue St. Anastase. Victor -Hugo asked for nothing better. He intended _Ruy Blas_ for the Thtre de -la Renaissance, which was under the management of his friend, Antnor -Joly. He requested the worthy fellow to engage Juliette, and the -agreement was signed early in May. - -We can picture the delight with which Juliette set about copying the -play; nevertheless, she was assailed by melancholy fears: "I shall never -play the queen," she wrote; "I am too unlucky. The thing I desire most -on earth is not destined to be realised." And it is a fact that the part -was taken from her almost as soon as it was given. - -After 1839 her longing to go back to the stage calmed down gradually. At -the end of that year it had completely faded. Her love's tranquillity -was greatly increased thereby, while she was driven to immerse herself -still more completely in her amorous solitude and the disadvantages -pertaining thereto. - -For, in the same degree that he deprecated her being seen on the stage, -Victor Hugo detested the thought of her going out alone, and he had -managed to extract a promise from her that she would never make one step -outside the house without him. She was, therefore, practically as much a -prisoner as any chtelaine of the Middle Ages, or heroine of some of the -sombre dramas she had formerly played. She had not even permission to go -and see her daughter at school at St. Mand, and, rather than trust her -by herself, the poet would escort her to the dressmaker and milliner, -or on her visits to the uncle whose name she bore, and who lay dying at -the Invalides, to the money-lender's, and curiosity-shop, and even the -ironmonger's! - -When Victor Hugo thus lent himself to her needs, all went well, and -Juliette, proud and happy, arm in arm with her "dear little man," -chattered away blithely. But a time came when the lover, monopolised by -other cares, perhaps by other intrigues, was no longer so assiduous. -Then the mistress protested and rebelled, with the fierce rage of a -prisoned beast of the forest, bruising itself against the bars of its -cage, in its agony for freedom. - -Victor Hugo met her remonstrances with gentle reasoning and persuasive -exhortations. However far Juliette went in her transports of anger, he -was always able to pacify her. On September 27th, 1836, at the end of a -long period during which the poet had not been able to give his friend -even what she called the "joies du prau"--that is to say, a walk round -the Boulevards--Juliette threatens to break out. For several weeks she -has been attributing the sickness and headaches she constantly suffers -from, to her sedentary life. Losing all patience, she addresses an -ultimatum to him, proposing an assignation in a cab on the Boulevard du -Temple. He does not appear. For three hours she waits inside the -vehicle, then, in the certainty that he has failed her, she writes a -letter in pencil, dated from the cab, No. 556, stating her intention to -fetch her daughter and go off somewhere, anywhere, alone with her. -"Thus," she writes, "I shall free myself for ever from a slavery which -satisfies neither my heart nor my mind, and does not secure the repose -of either of us." - -However, the next day she did not start. She did not go out at all. She -had resumed her chains and her prison garb. Her anger always evaporated -thus, and turned to melancholy and resigned gentleness. In the end she -came to feel that nothing existed for her, save a lover who sometimes -came and sometimes stayed away. If he was present, she was alive; if -absent, her mainspring was broken. - -But Victor Hugo continued to lead an ordinary life, while his mistress -spent her days in the confinement of a cloister. It was probably about -this time that Juliette resolved to set up in that cloister an altar for -the cult of her lover. Finding herself impotent to attract and keep him -by the sole charm of passion, she endeavoured to win him over by -devotion, minute attentions, tender interest in everything he undertook, -and by unbridled adoration of his person and work. - - -II - -According to Juliette, who secured several stolen meetings in the poet's -own house,[28] Victor Hugo suffered from a complete absence of the most -ordinary comfort at home. His lamps smoked, as did his chimney on the -rare occasions when a fire was lighted; he worked in a "horrible little -ice-house," with insufficient light and a half-empty inkstand; his bed -was wretched, the mattress stuffed with what he termed nail-heads; when -he dressed he found his shirts button-less and his coats unbrushed--as -for his shoes, Juliette was ashamed of their condition. We learn from -Thophile Gautier that the author of _Hernani_ was a hearty eater, but -that his meals were served up in confusion: cutlets with beans in oil, -beef and tomato sauce with an omelette, ham with coffee, vinegar, -mustard, and a piece of cheese. He made short work of this extraordinary -mixture, and no doubt was often reminded of a line his mistress had once -written to him on the subject: "When I think of what you are and what -you do, and of the discomfort in which you live, I am filled with -admiring pity." - -With the instinct of a loving woman and the resource of a clever one, -Juliette was quick to take advantage of the human side of her god, and -to supply him with the personal care he needed. She trained herself to -be a _cordon bleu_ and a sick nurse, a tailor and a cobbler. If Victor -Hugo went to the theatre he found on his return to the Rue St. Anastase, -a dainty repast of chicken, salad, and the milky puddings he liked, and -all the year round a dessert of grapes, a fruit he had always been fond -of. Juliette served him "kneeling"--so at least she affirms. She took -umbrage if he did not allow her to select for him the biggest asparagus -and the thickest cream. He was happy, so was she. If he had an attack of -that "cursed internal inflammation which sometimes affected his head and -sometimes his eyes," his mistress would prepare liniments, tisanes, herb -soups, which the romanticist meekly swallowed. She assumed a maternal -manner, kissed him, coaxed him with soft words, tried to feed him with -her own hands, and regretted that she could not give him her own health -and take his indisposition upon herself. If he complained of the paucity -and untidiness of his wardrobe, Juliette mended his socks and linen, -ironed his white waistcoats, removed grease-stains from his coat, made -him a smoking-jacket out of an old theatre-cloak, and manufactured "a -capital greatcoat lined with velvet, with collar and cuffs of the best -silk velvet, out of another." Thus she managed by degrees to collect -nearly all the poet's clothes in her own room; his ordinary suits, as -well as those he wore on great occasions, such as a reception at the -Acadmie, or a sitting of the House. On one occasion she writes, in -gentle self-mockery: "I was sorry, after you went, that I had not made -you put on your cashmere waistcoat to-night; it was mended and quite -ready for you. This morning I have been tidying all your things. Your -coat occupies the place of honour in my wardrobe; your waistcoat and tie -hang above my mantle, your little shoes and silk socks below. In default -of yourself I cling to your duds, look after them, and clean them with -delight." - -But Juliette's great achievement, her triumph, was to create in her tiny -apartment the right atmosphere for her poet to work in. His custom was -to collect his thoughts during the day, and work them out at night. -Juliette made him a cosy corner in her bedroom, close to her bed. She -fitted it up with a table, an arm-chair, a lamp, and an ink-pot. Above -the chair she hung portraits of his children, to make him feel at home. -On the table, sheets of paper and freshly cut pens attested the presence -and care of a devotee of genius. Whenever he came in the evening the -poet settled down in what he himself called his work-room. His -methodical habits and strong will enabled him to abstract himself from -his environment and devote himself strictly to his labours as an author. -Besides, he was under the impression that Juliette was fast asleep; but -in that he did her less than justice. Sleep while he worked! Juliette -could never have brought herself to do so. She watched him, and admired -him. Sometimes she seized a pencil to scribble on any scrap of paper the -expression of her veneration, and when the poet had finished he would -find little notes such as the following: "I love to watch even your -shadow on the page while you write."[29] - -That a poet should allow his person to be thus worshipped is nothing -new; that he should desire to be admired in his works is still more -natural. Juliette guessed this, and acquired the habit of applauding the -slightest achievement of the master with loving enthusiasm. Part of the -day she spent in copying his manuscripts, classifying them, making them -as like as possible to printers' proofs; and it may easily be imagined -that she occupied much time reading them over and over again. Everything -he wrote was equally sublime in her eyes. If she permitted herself to -show preference for this or that work, it was only on condition that she -should not be supposed to be depreciating some other. In 1846, Victor -Hugo having arranged to make a speech in the House on the "consolidation -and defence of the frontier," Juliette read it no less than three times: -once in _La Presse_, again in _Le Messager_, and a third time in _La -Presse_ again. She made extracts from it and put it away among his -archives; she then wrote gravely to the author, that he had never been -more pathetic or more eloquent. In the same manner she hoarded all his -most trivial sketches and poorest caricatures, and pasted them into -albums which she carefully hid. She was envious of Lopoldine, the -poet's daughter, who was doing the same thing, and naturally had more -opportunities than herself of adding to the collection. - -She was more greedy still of his theatrical output, for there her -jealousy came into play. It is safe to affirm that for more than fifteen -years, namely from 1834 to 1851, she interested herself in every single -representation of the dramas of Victor Hugo. She was present at the -Thtre Franais on the first night of _Anglo_ on April 28th, 1835, and -wished to go again on all the following nights, in spite of the bitter -disappointment the play had caused her, through the frustration of her -ambition to take part in it. She was there on February 20th, 1838, for -the revival of _Hernani_; and on March 8th following, it was she who -applauded Marie Dorval loudest, at the revival of _Marion Delorme_. -While _Les Burgraves_ was being written she demanded to know all about -it from its earliest conception, and achieved her wish. When Victor Hugo -read the play to her, she was very much moved and said: "I hardly know -how to descend to earth again from the sublime altitude of your -conception." She took part in the distribution of the _rles_, and -intrigued against Mlle. Maxime and Madame FitzJames, whom she did not -want for Guanhumara.[30] She championed Madame Melingue, who, in -consequence, obtained the part. At last the first night arrived. There -was a cabal, a violent, aggressive cabal, a sign of the reaction of the -new practical school against the romantic school. Who sat in a -prominent box and opposed the firmest front to the hissing crowd? -Juliette! Who ventured to accuse Beauvallet of murdering the part of the -Duke Job? Juliette again! "To applaud thus your beautiful verses," she -wrote on March 13th, "and hurl myself into the fray in their defence is -only another way of making love. Ah, I wish I could be a man on the -nights the play is given![31] I promise you the subscribers of the -_Nationale_ and the _Constitutionel_ would see strange things!" - -The afternoons hung heavy in the lonely apartment of the Rue St. -Anastase. Sometimes the poet looked in for a moment to bathe his eyes, -or claim some other domestic attention; but, as a rule, his visits were -made in the evening, after the parties and the theatre. His mistress, -therefore, begged, and obtained, permission to receive a few of her -friends. They were insignificant, but warm-hearted folk: Madame Lanvin, -the wife of one of Pradier's employs, who acted as intermediary, partly -honorary and partly paid, between the sculptor and the mother of Claire -Pradier; Madame Kraft, an employe of the Comdie Franaise who affected -literary culture; Madame Pierceau, a worthy matron, and, lastly, Madame -Bezancenot, a tried ally. - -As a rule, Victor Hugo tolerated the presence of this little company; -but, democratic though he might be in principle, it palled upon him -before long, and he made some remonstrance. Then Juliette revealed to -him that her need to talk about him had driven her to institute a -regular course of "Hugolatry" among the good ladies. They made a -practice of reading his poems, declaiming his plays, and showering -praise on the independence of his character and the dignity of his life. -In the face of such delicate proofs of the affection she bore him, it is -not surprising that the poet should have entrusted to Juliette his most -sacred hopes and ambitions. She was one of those in whom a lover may -always confide, in the certainty of being ever sustained, encouraged, -and approved. Thus it came about that she was cognisant of every effort -Victor Hugo made, every step he took, and even of the intrigues by which -he climbed gradually to the Acadmie Franaise, then to the Tuileries -and the little court of Neuilly, and finally to the Chambre des Pairs. - - -III - -Not that Juliette herself ever cherished special veneration for kings, -princes, peers, or Academicians. Democratic and republican by the -accident of birth, as she herself wrote, she likewise detested, on -principle, everything that seemed likely to attract or keep Victor Hugo -away from the Rue St. Anastase. Her first inclination, therefore, was to -criticise with acerbity Academies, drawing-rooms, politics, and Courts; -but the poet's determination was not of the quality that is easily -weakened by remonstrances. Juliette knew this. As soon as she realised -that the _habit vert_ was really the object of her idol's desire, and -that he had set his whole heart upon obtaining it, she abandoned her -opposition and only indulged in gentle mockery calculated to cover the -retreat of the unsuccessful candidate, and deprive it as much as -possible of bitterness. - -For Victor Hugo was, above all, an unfortunate candidate, at any rate -of the Acadmie. In February 1836 he was refused Lain's _fauteuil_, and -it was given to a vaudevilliste of the period, called Dupaty. At the end -of November of the same year, Mignet was preferred before him, for -Raynouard's vacancy. In December 1839, rather than select Hugo, nobody -was appointed in the place of Michaud. In February 1840, precedence over -him was given to the permanent secretary of the Acadmie des Sciences, -Monsieur Flourens. It was not until January 7th, 1841, that he was -elected to Lemercier's _fauteuil_ by seventeen votes, against fifteen -given to a dramatist called Ancelot, whose name an ungrateful posterity -no longer remembers. - -In all the peregrinations required by these five successive -candidatures, Victor Hugo was invariably accompanied by Juliette. On -December 24th, 1835, she writes to him: "One point on which I will -tolerate no nonsense, is your visits. I insist upon accompanying you, so -that I may know how much time you spend with the wives and daughters of -the Academicians. I shall, by the same means, be able to gather up a few -crumbs of your society for myself, which is no small consideration." - -The visits were begun between Christmas and the New Year, in cold, dry, -sunny weather. Clad in black according to prescribed custom, Victor Hugo -fetched his friend every day from the Rue St. Anastase, got into a cab -with her, and showed her the plan for the afternoon: at such and such a -time they must lay siege to Monsieur de Lacretelle; after that, to -Monsieur Royer-Collard; then to Monsieur Campenon. Monsieur de -Lacretelle was too diplomatic not to give plenty of promises and -assurances; Monsieur Royer-Collard too good a Jansenist to fail in a -blunt refusal to the author of _Hernani_. As for Monsieur Campenon, he -had the reputation of being an honest man and an excellent amateur -gardener. His conversation bristled with graftings and buddings. How -should he humour him about his favourite pursuit, Victor Hugo asked his -friend. Should he select roses or pears, myrtle or cypress? As the good -creature was getting on in years, and counted more summers than literary -successes, Victor Hugo unkindly inclined towards the last. - -Juliette laughed merrily, and the poet would climb up numerous stairs, -and return with a stock of entertaining anecdotes, which filled the cab -with fun and colour and life. Then followed calculations of his chances; -if they seemed promising, Juliette congratulated her "immortal," as she -called him in anticipation; if not, she made fun of the Acadmie once -more. - -At the end of the year the whole performance began over again. As in -1835, Juliette pretended not to attach much importance to the election -of her lover, but this did not prevent her from hotly abusing the -Acadmie when, a month later, the society again closed its portals to -the leader of the romantic school. - -It is the privilege of the Acadmie Franaise to be most courted by -those who have oftenest sneered at it. No institution has ever been the -cause of so much recantation. Juliette herself was to eat her words. On -Thursday, January 7th, 1841, when Victor Hugo had at last triumphed over -his brother candidate, it was no longer a mistress who wrote to him, but -a general addressing a panegyric of victory to a hero: "With your -seventeen friendly votes, and in spite of the fifteen groans of your -adversaries, you are an Academician! What happiness! You ought to bring -your beautiful face to me to be kissed." - -Victor Hugo yielded to her gallant desire, as may be imagined, and -forthwith began to prepare for his reception. The poet aimed at a -magniloquent and comprehensive speech which should embrace all the great -names and ideas of the past, present, and future; something as vast as -the empire of Charlemagne, and as noble as the genius of Napoleon. -Juliette, on her side, dreamed of a dress of white tarlatan mounted in -broad pleats and decorated with a rose-coloured scarf, like the one she -had once admired on the shoulders of Madame Volnys, a hated rival at the -Comdie Franaise. - -Although the speech was only to be delivered in June, Victor Hugo had it -ready by April 10th; he read it to his admiring friend the same night. -The white tarlatan dress, alas, was longer on the way. Several reasons -conspired against its completion. First of all, Juliette declared that -she would concede to nobody the honour of presenting the new member with -his lace ruffles: this involved an expenditure of about 23 frs., a heavy -toll on the exchequer of the lovers. Secondly, Victor Hugo's reception -was to fall upon nearly the same date as the first communion of -Juliette's daughter, Claire Pradier, which was yet another cause of -expense. The young woman bravely sacrificed her frock, and, having -consoled herself by making a fair copy of the master's splendid speech, -she awaited the great day. But at the very moment she hoped to see it -dawn without further disappointment, malicious fate brought her, and -consequently Victor Hugo and the Acadmie, face to face with a fresh -dilemma of the gravest importance, namely, the question of the pulpit -for the momentous occasion. - -The time-honoured affair was a wooden erection of mean appearance, -stained to represent mahogany. On ordinary days it was contemned and -relegated to the lumber-room of the Bibliothque de l'Institut; but, on -the occasion of the reception of a new member, custom prescribed that it -should be placed under the cupola, in front of the agitated neophyte. -tiquette demanded that the latter should place upon it his gloves and -the notes of his address; but the rickety thing had already borne so -much eloquence in the past, that it tottered under the weight of its -responsibilities. It stood weakly upon a crooked pedestal, in imminent -danger of subsidence. Instead of being a haughty pulpit, equal to any -occasion, it seemed to offer humble apology for its absurd existence. - -Such was the farcical object Victor Hugo had to interpose between -himself and Juliette, on the day of the great ceremonial. She lost her -sleep over it; for a time, even the lace ruffles, and the speech, and -the white tarlatan dress and rose-coloured scarf, retired into the -background: "I am in a state of inexpressible agitation and worry over -this wretched pulpit," she wrote. "I shall be just at the back of it. I -am in perfect despair! Truly, since this apprehension has taken -possession of me, I have become the most wretched of women. I think if I -cannot see your handsome, radiant face that day, nothing will keep me -from bursting into sobs of rage and misery. The very thought fills my -eyes with tears."[32] - -In spite of himself, Victor Hugo shared one characteristic with Jean -Racine: he could not bear to see a pretty woman cry. He therefore took -decisive measures, and managed to assuage his friend's grief. Juliette -was assured that, whatever happened, she should contemplate her "dear -little orator" at her ease--that is to say, from head to foot. -Unfortunately, it was ordained that calmness should not inhabit this -passionate soul for long together. The night preceding the reception, -Juliette felt frightfully nervous, and, while Victor Hugo sat up -correcting the proofs of his discourse at the Imprimerie Royale, she -retired, saying irritably: "I am like the savages who take to their beds -when their wives give birth to children." At 4.30 a.m. she was already -up, wrote several letters to her lover, dressed, and hurried to the -Palais Nazarin, where she took up a position in the front row, before -even the platoon of infantry detailed for guard had arrived. - -According to the testimony of Victor Hugo's enemies as well as of his -friends, the reception surpassed in dignity and brilliancy anything the -cupola had previously witnessed. The Court was represented by the Duc -and Duchesse d'Orlans, the Duchesse de Nemours, and the Princesse -Clmentine, in a tribune. Fashionable society and the world of letters -jostled each other on the benches. There were women everywhere, even -beside the most ancient and prim of Academicians. Old Monsieur Jay was -partially concealed under billows of laces, gauzes, silks, and satins, -worn by his neighbours, Madame Louise Colet and Mlle. Doze. Monsieur -tienne waggled his head between two monstrous hats so beflowered that, -with one movement, he disturbed the _fleurs du Prou_ of Madame Thiers, -and with the next, he ruffled the bunches of roses on Madame Anais -Segalas' head. - -[Illustration: "LE CITOYEN VICTOR HUGO JOUANT AU CONGRS DE LA PAIX." - -Political caricature, 1849.] - -Juliette saw nothing of all this; neither did she heed the irrelevant -babble of her neighbour on the right, Monsieur Desmousseaux of the -Comdie Franaise, or of her guest on the left, Madame Pierceau. She was -in a state of painful, yet delicious turmoil, and when Victor Hugo made -his entry, she nearly fainted. Fortunately, the poet gave her a smiling -look before beginning his speech, which restored her to life; and she -settled down to listen to his eloquent words, as if she had not already -written them out until she knew them by heart. To-day they seemed -invested with fresh beauties, and she gave herself up to the enjoyment -of the moment. The magnificent imagery which decked Victor Hugo's first -address at the Acadmie, concealed calculation of the most worldly wise -description. Victor Hugo aspired to the Chambre des Pairs as a -stepping-stone to a power which would assist him to develop the moral -and social mission he deemed to be the true function of a poet. To -achieve this aim it was necessary that he should first belong to one of -the societies from among which alone the King could legally select the -members of that Assembly. The Acadmie was one of these, hence the -successive candidatures of the poet, and the special tone of his -discourse, in which all the political parties were blandished and -caressed alike; hence, finally, the visits to Court, which increased in -frequency after 1841. - -Just as Juliette had practically burned in effigy almost all the -Academicians of her time before she had the opportunity of becoming -acquainted with them and finding them charming, so she began by -criticising and censuring Louis Philippe and his children with the -greatest severity. Were not these people going to wrest her poet from -her? And for what? For the sake of empty honours and useless -occupations! Therefore we find Juliette preaching to her lover the -contempt of earthly greatness. She was fiercely jealous of the -citizen-king. - -In order to calm her apprehensions, Victor Hugo had only to reveal to -her his secret plans; from the first moment that he mentioned the Pairie -to her, she became complacent and Orlaniste. Whether the poet went to -harangue the widow of the soldier-prince in the name of the Acadmie, -after the accident of 1842, or whether he paid her a private visit, -Juliette always insisted upon accompanying him to Neuilly, and there she -would wait, sitting in a cab outside, whilst her lover coined honeyed -phrases inside the palace. - -The Duchesse was German, simple, a good mother, and deeply religious. Of -Victor Hugo's works, the only one she was familiar with was No. XXXIII. -of the _Chants du Crpuscule, Dans L'glise de...._ - - "C'tait une humble glise au cintre surbaiss, - L'glise o nous entrmes, - O depuis trois cents ans avaient dj pass, - Et pleur des mes." - -The good lady probably thought these verses had been composed in a -moment of deep fervour, in honour of a respected spouse. She -congratulated the poet, quoted some of the lines to him, questioned him -minutely about his children--and, while he enlarged on these domestic -topics, the real heroine of the beautiful poetry so dear to the -Duchesse, sat waiting below in the cab ... dreaming of the future peer -of France; she already saw him in imagination descending the great -staircase of the Luxembourg, with a demeanour full of dignity. For her -part, she was more than ever content to remain at the foot of the steps, -in a posture of humility, among the crowd of watchers.... When the poet -issued at last from the ducal apartments, she would tell him her dream, -and he would complacently acquiesce. - -The appointment of Victor Hugo to the Pairie appeared in the _Moniteur_ -of April 15th, 1845. It must be left to politicians to determine in what -degree the presence of "Olympio" could profit the councils of the -nation; but to Juliette's biographer the entry of her lover into the -Luxembourg seems a felicitous event. From that moment, in fact, the -young woman ceased to be cloistered. Busier than ever, and perhaps less -jealous, the poet permitted his mistress to accompany him to the -Luxembourg and to return alone to the Marais. At first Juliette hardly -knew how to take this unfamiliar freedom. With her lover absent, she had -grown accustomed to semi-obscurity. The blatant sunshine seemed to mock -her loneliness. She writes: "Nobody can feel sadder than I do, when I -trudge through the streets alone. I have not done such a thing for -twelve years, and I ask myself what it may portend. Is it a mark of your -confidence or of your indifference? Perhaps both. In any case, I am far -from content." - -Gradually, however, she fell into the new ways. She used to walk back -from the Luxembourg by way of the Pont-Neuf and the Quais. She amused -herself by trying to trace the footsteps of Victor Hugo and fit her own -little shoes into them. When she reached home, she immersed herself -deeper than ever in the preoccupations of her lover. - -Occasionally, fortunately, she had a reaction. She read little: the -letters of Madame de Svign, perhaps, or those of Mlle. de Lespinasse. -She tended her flowers; for Victor Hugo had made her remove from No. 14 -to No. 12 Rue St. Anastase, where her ground-floor rooms opened on to a -garden.[33] There, in a space of sixty square feet, she had four bushes -of crimson roses, and a few dozen prolific strawberry-plants, destined -to furnish the poet's favourite dessert, throughout the summer. She -attended to all the most trivial details in person, making them all -subservient to her love. - -In this wise--with the exception of a few bouts of jealousy of which we -shall have occasion to speak later, Juliette's days flowed almost -happily. She no longer brooded over her past; redemption through love -seemed to her an accomplished fact. When she turned to the future, it -was with ideas borrowed from Victor Hugo certainly, but none the less -consoling, since they authorised her to hope for the eternal reunion of -souls beyond the confines of this earth. On December 31st, 1842, the -poet had dedicated some delicate verses to her, which she learned by -heart. They were part of a creed by which Juliette hoped to fortify her -soul against the arrows of fortune--hopes fallacious in the event. First -death, then treachery, were about to rend her faithful heart as a -child's toy is smashed. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -CLAIRE PRADIER - - -About the year 1844, when Victor Hugo visited his friend on Sundays and -holidays, he used to find seated at his private table, in accordance -with his own permission, a tall girl of eighteen, very fair, very pale, -with very black eyes--two prunes, as he said, dropped in a saucer of -milk. Often she did not hear him enter. Bending her willowy neck and -undeveloped bust over her books, she was immersed in study, perhaps also -in rverie. Sometimes he kissed her affectionately, at other times bowed -formally. The lowly assistant-mistress of a suburban school, marvelling -at the great man's condescension, would rise blushing, and submit her -pale brow to his lips. She would then ask permission to return to her -task: the examinations were near at hand, and, as she was going in for a -diploma, she must work. - -Sometimes Victor Hugo smilingly took up the books scattered on the -table, weighed the value of each with a glance, then, pushing them all -aside with the back of his hand, sat down, saying: "Now then, Claire, I -will be your tutor to-day," and the lesson began, vivid, enthusiastic, -brilliant as a poem. - -The reader would be justly disappointed if we failed to relate the story -of the girl to whom this "magician of words" thus unveiled the beauties -of the French language. Besides, a deeper acquaintance with the -daughter may lead to a better understanding of the mother; therefore, we -append a short sketch of Claire Pradier. - - -I - -She was born in Paris in 1826. Her father, the sculptor, undertook the -care of her early childhood, while her mother, as we have learnt, was in -Germany and Belgium. He put her out to nurse at Vert, near Mantes, with -a married couple named Dupuis, and sometimes combined a visit to her -with a little sport, in the shooting season. - -He brought her back to Paris on October 15th, 1828. From letters of his -which have been preserved, we are justified in believing that he derived -some satisfaction from his educational rle. His pen is prolific in -praise of the child with "the locks of pale gold," "the roguish brown -eyes," "the apple-red cheeks," whose "nose ends in a pretty tilt" which -reminds him agreeably of Juliette's. - -He discovers in his daughter a fine nature, plenty of intelligence, and -so much feeling, that he hesitates for a time whether he shall apply his -efforts to checking its development, or to cultivating it--in the first -case, he would turn Claire into a semi-idiot in order not to let her -passions become too strong for her happiness, and in the second, he -might make of her an artist capable of the most splendid impulses and -the noblest fulfilment. - -If Pradier is to be believed, the child herself decided in favour of the -latter. At the age of three, guided by paternal suggestion in the studio -of the Rue de l'Abbaye, she chose for her favourite plaything a stuffed -swan. From her games with this handsomely fashioned bird she imbibed a -taste for pure lines and fine pose. She also listened to music given at -Pradier's house by sculptors and painters who aped the art of Ingres. -She derived so much delight from it that she could never afterwards meet -any of these self-engrossed performers without begging for a kiss. -Finally, by his studies of dress, his clever manipulation of draperies, -which he always preferred to the higher parts of his profession, Pradier -taught her to appreciate light and colour. She had a vivid appreciation -of the latter, and, during her short life, a mere trifle such as the -blue of the sky, or the tint of a rose, gave her the most exquisite -pleasure. - -Having thus cultivated the sensibilities of the flower committed to his -charge, Pradier was rewarded by the prestige attached to his rle of -master and guide; the father reaped in tenderness what the artist had -expended in intelligence and effort. From her earliest infancy Claire -showed a marked preference for this man, so ardent, so gay, who taught -her to breathe and live among works of art; all her life she felt for -him an affection that neither his mistakes nor his carelessness, or even -his injustice, could damp. Meanwhile, ever prolific in good intentions, -always ready with vows and promises, the artist was forming high hopes -and ambitions for his daughter. - -"We must hope," he wrote to Juliette on that October 15th, 1828, when he -took the child away from her nurse, "that she will live to grow up, and -that we shall make a distinguished personage of her." A little later, on -September 28th, 1829, he writes: "Dear friend, you are fortunate in the -possession of a Claire who will be a great solace to you in your old -age." Again, on July 4th, 1832: "Who can love her better than I do, -especially now that I see her rare intelligence developing so -satisfactorily and encouragingly for our designs?" - -He planned for his little daughter the most singular and unexpected -gifts: once it was to be the proceeds of his bust of Chancellor -Pasquier, a commission he owed to Juliette and her friendship with the -subject; another time it was the price of a house he possessed at Ville -d'Avray and wished to sell; again, he designed to settle upon Claire the -sum of 2,000 frs. he had lent to a cousin--fine words, as empty as the -hollow mouldings that decorated the studio of the man. The cousin never -returned the loan, the house at Ville d'Avray was sold, by order of the -court, at a moment when the mortgage upon it far surpassed its value, -and the bust of Chancellor Pasquier, though ordered, was never even -rough-cast by Pradier. - -Juliette had determined to live with Victor Hugo in the conditions of -poverty indicated in a former chapter. Her natural delicacy prompted her -to make the future of her child secure, and at the same time to release -the poet from all anxiety on that score. In the latter part of the year -1833, therefore, she wrote to Pradier asking him to acknowledge Claire. -The answer of the sculptor was as follows: - -"DEAR FRIEND, - - "Your letter did not displease me at all, as you seem to have - feared that it would. Its motive was too praiseworthy to cause me - any sentiment contrary to your own. The only thing that vexes me is - that I should be unable to do at once what you desire, and what I - fully intend to do eventually, though in a manner carefully - calculated not to interfere with the future or tranquillity of any - other person. It grieves me that you do not realise what I feel - towards you and Claire! I believed that all your hopes were centred - in me! I am so crushed with debt that I cannot think of executing - my intentions at present. Good-bye, get well and hope only in me. - You have not lost me, either of you--far from it! Good-bye, your - very devoted friend, and much more, - -"J. PRADIER."[34] - -[Illustration: CLAIRE PRADIER AT FIFTEEN. - -From an unpublished drawing by Pradier.] - -It is easy to guess how annoyed Juliette was at the receipt of such a -letter. She expressed her disgust to Victor Hugo in various notes in -which she abuses her former lover: "Wretched driveller, stupid -scoundrel, the vilest and most idiotic of men, a coward without -faith"--such are the principal epithets she applies to him. - -It has been said that the author of _Lucrce Borgia_ interfered and -obtained from Pradier the acknowledgment of Claire.[35] This is -absolutely incorrect. It is probable indeed that the poet made the -attempt; it seems certain that with the assistance of Manire, the -attorney, he extracted from the sculptor the promise of an allowance; -but there was no official recognition, and soon we shall find the father -of Claire more disposed to repudiate her than to allow her the -protection of his name. - -For the moment he merely agreed that Juliette should put the child to -school at Saumur with a Madame Watteville, whose Paris representative -was a certain Monsieur de Barths. He would have liked Victor Hugo and -his friend to undertake the sole responsibility of the arrangements, but -they prudently declined to do so, though they lavished kindness, -caressing letters, advice, and treats, upon the little exile. - -On May 28th, 1835, Claire, having suffered some childish ailment, -received from her mother a doll and the following letter: - - "Good morning, my dear little Claire. I hope you will be quite well - again by the time you read this letter. Now that you are - convalescent I can discuss serious matters with you. This is what I - wish to say: Foreseeing that you may be in need of recreation, I - send you from Paris a charming little companion who is most amiably - disposed to amuse you. But, as it would not be fair that the - expenses of her maintenance should devolve upon you during the time - of her stay with you, I also send you a big purse of money for her - upkeep. Spend it wisely, in accordance with your needs. - - "Monsieur Toto is no less anxious about her, than devoted to you. - He therefore adds an enormous basket of provisions. I hope the - little girl will not have eaten them all up on the way, and that - there will still be something left for you. - - "This is not all. I have also been thinking of your clothes, dear - little one, and I send you a shawl for your walks, a white frock - with drawers to match, a figured foulard frock, a striped frock - without drawers, and a sleeved pinafore. - - "Good-bye, dear good child. You must tell me if my selection is to - your taste. Love me and enjoy yourself, so that I may find you - tall and plump and pretty, when I come to see you again. - -"J. DROUET." - -At other times, Victor Hugo himself wrote affectionately to his friend's -child. It is necessary to read these letters, so full of thoughtful -tenderness, to gain a better knowledge of the warmth of the poet's -heart. Much should be forgiven him in consideration of it. - -"We love you very much," he wrote to Claire on May 23rd, 1833, "and you -have a sweet mother who, though absent, thinks a great deal about you. -You must get well quickly, and thank the good God in your prayers every -night for giving you such a good little mother, as she on her part -thanks Him for her charming little daughter."[36] - -And a few days after, in a postscript to a letter to Juliette: "Monsieur -Toto sends love and kisses to his little friend, and wishes he could -still have her to travel everywhere with him. But, above all, he would -like to caress her and look after her as his own child."[37] - -_As his own child_--those words were indeed characteristic of Victor -Hugo's feeling concerning the little girl thus thrown across his path by -chance, and unhesitatingly adopted by him. At first, Claire either did -not realise, or was unwilling to return, his affection. She was jealous -of the big gentleman who stole some of her mother's attention from her. -She was reserved and disagreeable. Juliette was indignant, but the poet -did not relax his efforts to win her. With the authority of Pradier, who -was only too pleased to delegate it to him,[38] he placed Claire, on -April 15th, 1836, in a school at St. Mand, 35, Avenue du Bel-Air, kept -by a Madame Marre. From that moment, whether he paid her a surprise -visit in the parlour on Thursday afternoons, with a Juliette beaming -from the enjoyment of the trip, or whether she spent Sundays with her -mother, Claire Pradier insensibly grew to connect Victor Hugo with -Juliette in her affections, to give to them both equal respect, and to -link them together in her prayers. Exceedingly sensitive by nature, more -eager for love than for learning, she fell into habits of day-dreaming -in school, or out in the meadows, and only seemed to recover the -brightness of cheeks and eyes when the lovers fetched her, and toasted -her little cold, contracted fingers in their warm ones. Then the -apartment in the Rue St. Anastase resounded with her merry chatter, and -she joined eagerly in the rites of which Victor Hugo was the god and -Juliette the priestess. - -In 1840, when she had attained her fifteenth year, Claire's mother -thought it right to confide to her the secret of her irregular birth. -She told her also of Pradier's neglect, and Victor Hugo's goodness. She -exhorted her to be simple in her ideas, and not to set her ambitions too -high. Claire manifested much chagrin and vexation at first, but -presently her natural piety awoke and Juliette was able to write: -"Claire is for ever in church." Victor Hugo took upon himself to open -the girl's eyes to the practical side of life, and to point out to her -the necessity of preparing for a profession as early as possible.[39] In -response to these appeals to her reason, Claire soon accepted her lot -with a brave heart. It was settled that at the age of eighteen, that is -to say in 1844, she should be engaged as an assistant mistress in Madame -Marre's school, in exchange for board and lodging, but without salary. -She agreed also to study for a diploma, and she hoped, when once she had -gained it, to find some honourable and paid employment, by Victor Hugo's -help. - -Claire fell to work with an ardour, a good-humour, and an intelligence, -that drew from Juliette the warmest commendation for her daughter and -gratitude for Victor Hugo. - - -II - -One cannot but wonder whether Claire Pradier was really happy at heart, -or whether that eighteen-year-old brow, pure and fair as Juliette's own, -perchance concealed a spirit weighed down by melancholy. She was -good-looking certainly, and knew it. In her chestnut locks, her eyes, -whose hue wavered between soft black and the blue of ocean, her rounded -cheeks, often hectic with fever, the distinction of a tall figure and -stately walk, she united-- - - " la madonne auguste d'Italie - La flamande qui rit travers les houblons."[40] - -But beauty is no consolation to one who feels herself already touched by -the icy finger of death, and who has, besides, no incentive to prolong -the struggle for life. Claire felt thus. - -Already, in earliest childhood, she had shown a delicate temperament, -uncertain health, more nerves than muscle, more sensitiveness than -vitality. During the whole of 1837, her cough never left her. In the -years that followed, her figure scarcely showed any of the curves of -youth. When her looks were praised, she smiled faintly, and her voice, -which was lovely and caressing enough to recall to Victor Hugo the -softest cadences of _Les Feuillantines_, scarce dared pronounce the word -"to-morrow." Hence proceeded low spirits, which she was never able to -shake off, though she usually managed to conceal them from her mother. -Presentiments also beset her. "I often dream of those I love," she wrote -to her mother, "and when I wake up, I long to sleep on for ever." - -Mobile as the chisel he manipulated so skilfully, volatile as the dust -of the plaster which powdered him, Pradier gave Claire neither regular -assistance nor moral support. He had married, and was the father of -several legitimate children. Unfortunate as was the celebrity of his -wife and far-reaching the scandals provoked by her, he yet desired to -preserve before his natural daughter a primly respectable attitude, and -a modesty quite Calvinistic. He was as careful to avoid the occasions of -meeting her, as Claire herself was eager to provoke them. The more she -overwhelmed him with little presents, worked by her own fingers, tender -evidences of an unconquerable affection, the more indifferent and -discourteous he showed himself, forgetting to pay her monthly -allowance, forgetting to give her New Year's presents, forgetting even -to keep his appointments with her, leaving her to wait patiently in the -cold studio of Rue de l'Abbaye while he played the gallant on the -boulevard. - -He had, nevertheless, permitted the girl to make the acquaintance of his -legitimate children, and had gone so far as to put his youngest child, -Charlotte Pradier, at the same school, when he sent his two sons to -Auteuil to a boarding-school. In the month of May, 1845, Claire, with an -impulse natural in a girl of nineteen, wished to give the two -school-boys the pleasure of a sisterly letter; she got Charlotte to -write also. The sculptor heard of it and this is how he treated her -trivial indiscretion: - - "MY DEAR BIG CLAIRE, - - "I have seen the headmaster of ... who has informed me that you and - Charlotte have written to J....[41] Pray write as seldom as - possible. I do not think young girls should use their pens to - reveal their sentiments. Such a habit is too easily acquired; they - should know how, yet not do it. Besides, the children see each - other every fortnight, and that is enough. Please do not sign - yourself _Pradier_ to them any more. Such a thing becomes known and - might cause gossip. You do not need the name, to be loved and - respected. Be frank and fear nothing. Your good time will come some - day. You must be prudent in all respects. The children must - accustom themselves to your position as it is; they will take more - interest in you later. Also, as I am on these subjects, pray use - some other formul in your letters to me than 'adored father,' or - 'beloved.' I am not accustomed to them. Such epithets are only - appropriate to a god. Call me anything else that comes natural to - you. It is unnecessary that I should prompt you; your feelings will - be your best guide. Please write more legibly, for I receive your - letters at night; and, above all, write only when you have - something special to say. You must not become a scribbler about - nothing--I mean for the mere pleasure of using your pen."[42] - -How such a letter must have wounded the heart which once beat so -tenderly for Pradier! Neither the caresses of Juliette nor the soothing -words of Victor Hugo were able to comfort Claire.[43] One month after -her father had thus disowned her, she went up for her examination, and, -partly through grief, partly through timidity, failed utterly. It was -the last stroke. - -Not that her constitution showed any immediate sign of the shock it had -sustained, or broke down at once. Her physical appearance remained -unchanged, but death entered her soul and lurked there henceforward, as -sometimes it lies under the depths of waters which flow calmly to -outward seeming. She made her will. - -From that moment Claire Pradier lived like those resigned invalids who, -raising their gaze to the heaven above them, no longer heed the passing -of the hours, while they await the supreme summons. She waited. Her -mother, seeing her still apparently healthy, failed to realise her -condition, and took the beginning of this mute colloquy with death -for a mere return of her daughter's former depression. Nevertheless, -an incident which happened in the month of February 1846 gave to -Juliette also one of those presentiments which cannot deceive. Like -Claire, she waited. - -[Illustration: CLAIRE PRADIER ON HER DEATHBED. - -Drawing by Pradier (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -It was not for long. On March 21st, 1846, having gone to St. Mand to -see the young assistant mistress, she took with her the design and -material for a piece of work Victor Hugo had asked for. The idea was to -embroider his family coat of arms on coarse canvas, in colours selected -by himself. This complicated heraldic work was to adorn the backs of two -Gothic arm-chairs in his rooms in the Place Royale. - -Contrary to her usual habit, Claire showed very little interest in the -poet's plans; she listened absently and spoke very little. A dry cough -shook her frame from time to time, her cheeks burned with fever. -Juliette walked home by way of the Avenue de Bel-Air, the Barrire du -Trne, and the Faubourg St. Antoine. Victor Hugo, who was always anxious -about her, was to meet her half-way. He did so; she was walking slowly, -with bent head, and when he asked for news of his embroidery, she burst -into tears. The poet understood in an instant. By his instructions, -Claire was removed to Rue St. Anastase the very next day; Triger, her -mother's doctor, was instructed to visit her daily. Not venturing to -pronounce at once the dread name of consumption, he spoke of a chill and -chlorosis. Claire scarcely heeded, and indicated by a feeble gesture -that she was too spent to care. The head she tried to raise from the -pillow, fell back as if too heavy for the frail neck. Her large dark -eyes gazed through space at some melancholy vision. Her hands upon the -white sheets hardly retained strength to clasp themselves in a caress -or a prayer. - -She begged that Pradier might be informed of her illness. He wrote -first, and then came. He demonstrated his affection by theatrical -gestures and well-chosen words. Then he placed a villa, which he said he -possessed at Auteuil, at the disposal of the invalid and her mother. The -so-called villa proved to be one floor in a tenement house, 57, Rue de -La Fontaine. Claire was taken there in the early part of May. Her mother -accompanied her. Victor Hugo visited them nearly every day, but neither -the compliments of "Monsieur Toto" nor the roses he brought his -ex-pupil, nor the exhortations of Doctor Louis, whom he brought with him -one day, were successful in restoring colour to the countenance of one -whose blood-spitting left her every day paler and more exhausted. Claire -hardly dared raise herself in bed; icy sweats drenched her, and she -moaned continuously, in a manner terribly painful to those who were -forced to stand by, helpless. - -On June 6th, she asked to see the Vicar of St. Mand, her confessor. On -the 16th, she received the Last Sacraments. On the 18th, delirium -supervened, and she expired on the 21st. They buried the girl in the -first place at Auteuil, but when her will was read, in which she had -written, "I desire to be buried in the cemetery of Saint-Mand. I also -beg that Monsieur l'Abb Chaussotte should celebrate my funeral Mass, -and that green grass should be grown on my grave," Victor Hugo and -Pradier agreed to have the coffin exhumed. The ceremony took place on -July 11th. Juliette, who was more dead than alive, was not present; but -Victor Hugo and Pradier walked together behind the funeral car, leading -the white procession of Claire's young pupils and companions. The -sculptor, always full of intentions, plans, and chatter, discoursed in a -low voice of the magnificent tomb he would raise with his own hands to -the memory of his daughter. It should be, he said, "a sacred debt; I -shall execute it with so much love that my chisel will never before have -fashioned anything so chaste or so beautiful." - -After the long, slow journey through Paris in the sunshine, they reached -the cemetery of Saint Mand. Near the tomb of the poet's friend, Armand -Carel, a freshly dug grave yawned, gloomy and covetous. There was some -singing, some blessing, the turmoil of a congested crowd; then they -separated, but not without a renewal of Pradier's promise. - -Eight years later he died himself, without having discharged his "sacred -debt." One more resolve had fizzled out in empty words. Victor Hugo was -then living precariously in exile, but as soon as he heard of the -sculptor's end, he wrote off and ordered a decent headstone for Claire, -and directed that the grave should be sown with green grass. Upon the -tomb were carved four of the lines he had erstwhile written for -Juliette's consolation, and he set about composing others. Thus it came -about that, to the very last, Claire Pradier was protected by the father -of Lopoldine against two of the fears that had most alarmed her -youthful imagination, "a neglected grave in some distant cemetery, and a -faded memory in the hearts of men." - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -"ON AN ISLAND" - - -I - -Juliette relates that when she had occasion to admonish her maid, or -find fault with a tradesman during her residence in Jersey and Guernsey, -the answer she invariably received was: "It cannot be helped, Madame; we -are on an island...." - -The phrase tickled her fancy, and she adopted it and made use of it on -many occasions. - -The reader of the following chapters must likewise accept the axiom -that, "on an island," things are not quite the same as on the mainland; -for, only by so doing, will he be enabled to peruse without undue -astonishment the extraordinary narration of the life led in common by -Victor Hugo, his wife, sons, friends, and mistress, between 1851 and -1872. - -Its beginning dates from the poet's sojourn in Belgium without Madame -Victor Hugo, at the beginning of his exile[44]; that is to say, in the -last weeks of the year 1851 and the first half of 1852. Not that his -precarious circumstances and prudent, somewhat middle-class habits, -permitted him to house Juliette under his own roof: indeed, their -_liaison_ was never more secret. But, at Brussels, the problem of the -relations henceforth to exist between the sons of Victor Hugo and she -whom they already called "our friend, Madame Drouet," first came up for -solution. It was at Brussels also, that Juliette set herself to simplify -it, if not settle it, by her devotion, unselfishness, and unremitting -attentions. - -At his first arrival on December 14th the poet had taken rooms at the -Htel de la Porte Verte in the narrow street of the same name. He -remained there barely three weeks, and on January 5th, 1852, took a -small room on the first floor of No. 27, Grand' Place. It was "furnished -with a black horsehair couch, convertible into a bed, a round table, -which served indifferently for work and for relaxation, and an old -mirror, over the chimney which contained the pipe of the stove."[45] - -Juliette never went there, but we learn from the poet's complaints to -her, that the couch was too short for a man, the mattresses hard, and -offensive to the olfactory nerve, and that sleep was difficult to -obtain, on account of the noises in the street. But with the first -streak of dawn outside the lofty window, the "great faade of the Htel -de Ville entered the tiny chamber and took superb possession of it"[46]; -the atmosphere became impregnated with art and history. The poet's fine -imagination and ardour for work did the rest. Hence the tone of his -letters to his wife, who had remained behind in France, was almost -joyous. It was full of masculine courage. Hence, also, that air of -"simple dignity and calm resignation," which characterised his bearing -in exile, "adding to his inherent nobility and charm," and drawing from -Juliette the enthusiastic exclamation: "Would that I were you, that I -might praise you as you deserve!"[47] - -Truth to tell, she merited a rich share of the praise herself. The -little comfort Victor Hugo was able to enjoy, and the moral support he -needed more than ever, came to him solely through her. - -She lodged almost next door, at No. 10, Passage du Prince,[48] with -Madame Luthereau, a friend of her youth, married to a political pamphlet -writer. For the modest sum of 150 frs. a month, of which 25 were paid to -her servant, Juliette obtained food, shelter, and sincere affection. But -what she appreciated more than all these, was the liberty she enjoyed of -superintending from afar the poet's domestic arrangements, and preparing -under the shadow of the galleries the dishes and sweetmeats he partook -of in the publicity of the Grand' Place. Every morning at eight o'clock -her maid, Suzanne, conveyed to Victor Hugo a pot of chocolate made by -Juliette, linen freshly ironed and mended, and sometimes even the -modicum of coal the great man either forgot, or did not trouble, to -order. - -When Suzanne had swept and cleaned the room which Charras, Hetzel, -Lamoricire, mile Deschanel, Dr. Yvan, Schoelcher and sometimes Dumas -_pre_ daily enlivened with their wit and littered with the ashes from -their pipes, she returned at about two o'clock. She found her mistress -busy preparing the master's luncheon--a cutlet generally, which Juliette -took the trouble to select herself, in order to make certain that the -butcher cut it near the loin! Suzanne started off again bearing the -cutlet, the bread, the plates and dishes, and even the cup of coffee! -Obedient to her mistress's injunction, she hurried through the street, -for, at any cost, the luncheon must not be allowed to get cold. - -When Charles Hugo joined his father in February 1852, it might be -supposed that Juliette would relinquish her rle of _cordon bleu_; but -nothing was further from her intention. She merely proceeded to -supplement the daily cutlet with a dish of scrambled eggs, in honour of -the young man. Hugo having opened the necessary credit, she continued -the task she had undertaken, and prepared two luncheons instead of one. -Again, when on May 24th Madame Victor Hugo came for the second time to -visit her husband in Brussels, it was Juliette who undertook to cook a -little feast for her. In the agitation caused by such a high honour, she -forgot to add an extra fork. She worried for the rest of the day over -the omission, and apologised in successive letters to the poet, in the -terms a _dvote_ might employ to confess a mortal sin.[49] - -But these occupations did not prevent the afternoons from hanging heavy -on her hands. Victor Hugo spent them in writing _Napolon le Petit_; or -he organised expeditions to Malines, Louvain, Anvers, with friends; or -he yielded to the material pleasures of Flemish life, and accepted -invitations to dine at some of those culinary institutes on which -Brussels so prides herself. - -But none of these resources were open to Juliette. Confined within the -four walls of her narrow chamber, her only view was of roofs, and a dull -wall, pierced by a single dirty window; she spent whole hours watching a -canary in its cage, through the thick panes. She likened her condition -to that of the tiny captive. At other times, she allowed her thoughts to -roam among past events, and brooded over the packet of letters so -cruelly sent to her the year before[50]; she dwelt upon the grief she -had endured for many months, the choice the poet had finally made in her -favour, and their joint excursion to Fontainebleau to celebrate the -reconciliation. Under the depressing influence of the grey Belgian sky, -always partially obscured by thick smoke, she realised that her splendid -vitality and her love for novelty had departed for ever. Then she -allowed jealousy to resume its sway over her, more powerfully than ever. - -In this mood, she once more resolved to set Victor Hugo free: "If you -tell me to go," she wrote on January 25th, 1852, "I will do so without -even turning my head to look at you." But again he bade her stay. - -Gravely, then, without showing any symptom of her former coyness, she -proposed to discontinue her letters. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN JERSEY.] - -Fortunately, at this very juncture, the unwelcome attentions of the -Belgian police, who were nervous about the forthcoming publication of -_Napolon le Petit_, had decided Victor Hugo to leave Brussels and go to -Jersey. Juliette was to go also, either in the steamer with him, or in -one starting a few hours later. Naturally he urged her to go on writing, -if only to bridge over the short separation. She admits that when she -landed at St. Helier, on August 6th, 1852, hope had once more gained the -ascendant within her breast. For the first time in her life, she was -about to enjoy the society of her "dear little exile," her "sublime -outlaw," all by herself, far from the madding crowd. - - -II - -Victor Hugo resided at first in an hotel at St. Helier, called La Pomme -d'Or. Later he settled on the sea-front at Marine Terrace, Georgetown, -in an enormous house which, owing to its square shape and skylights, -resembled a prison. - -Juliette had intended to put up at the Auberge du Commerce, but for -twenty years she had never sat at a table d'hte without the protection -of the poet. The proximity of tradespeople and farmers proved -insupportable to her. On August 11th she began a search for a suitable -boarding-house, and presently concluded a bargain with the proprietress -of Nelson Hall, Hvres-des-Pas, for lodging at eight shillings a week, -and board at two shillings a day. This made a monthly expenditure of -about a hundred and fifteen francs, to which was added twenty-five -francs, the wages of Suzanne, her maid. - -Like Marine Terrace, Nelson Hall's chief claim to maritime advantages -was its name. At Victor Hugo's house there were no large windows -overlooking the sea, and in Juliette's ground-floor rooms, a high paling -screened the topmost crest of the highest wave. - -Our heroine tried to console herself by listening to the surge of the -ocean, and copying the nearly completed manuscript of _L'Histoire d'un -crime_, or the poems the poet intended to add to the volume of _Les -Chtiments_. At the end of September she moved upstairs to a large room -on the first floor of the house, whence a wide view could be had of the -barren scenery of Hvres-des-Pas, from the battery of Fort Regent on the -right, to the rocks of St. Clment on the left; but Juliette's peaceful -contemplation was constantly disturbed by the violence of the -proprietress, a drunkard, who was renowned all over the island for the -vigour with which she beat her husband when in her cups. - -A further removal was therefore decided upon in January 1853, and -carried out on February 6th. Juliette went to live in furnished -apartments next door, consisting, as in Paris, of a bedroom, -drawing-room, dining-room, and kitchen, on the first floor. They -overlooked a vast stretch of sand and shingle, rocks and seaweed. - -At first Victor Hugo seldom went to his friend's house, but met her each -day at the outset of his walk and took her with him along roads where -the magic of summer glorified every blade of grass. From end to end of -the island, Dame Nature had transformed herself into a garden, where all -was perfumed, gay, and smiling. Juliette, walking arm in arm with her -lover, could feel the glad beating of his heart; her upraised eyes noted -that his dear face seemed less worried. With the ingenuity of a -twenty-year-old sweetheart, she entertained him of his own country, and -invoked memories of the journeys they had made together in former days -to the Rhine, the Alps, the Pyrenees. The exile remembered, not the -rain, nor the omnibuses, nor the thousand trifles recalled by Juliette, -but France ... his own beautiful France.... Under the influence of that -voice which had once made him free of the realm of love, his country was -restored to him for a fleeting moment. - -The lovers were unpleasantly surprised by the week of tempests which -ushered in the equinox, and was followed without a pause by the setting -in of winter. "Everything became sombre, grey, violent, terrible, -stormy, severe." Day and night rain fell, and "the drops chased each -other down the window-panes like silver hairs."[51] Amidst the uproar to -which frenzied Nature suddenly delivered herself, the daily tramps were -perforce discontinued. Fortunately for Juliette, Victor Hugo found -Nelson House warmer than his house at Marine Terrace. His wife had -recently joined him, but had brought with her neither comfort nor the -serene atmosphere propitious for an author's labours. As in the old days -of the Rue St. Anastase, therefore, he set up a writing-table near the -fire in Juliette's sitting-room, with a few volumes of Michelet and -Quinet, and a novel or two by Georges Sand; and every day, after -lunching with his own family, the poet came to work in his friend's -room. Juliette determined to "find the way back to his heart through his -appetite,"[52] as she wrote to him, so she insisted upon his dining -with her. She appealed to his greediness as well as to his hospitable -instincts, assuring him that nowhere else could he so successfully -entertain his new companions, the exiles, as at her abode. Soon she gave -two "exiles' dinners" a week, then three, then four; finally, she had -one every day. - -With the assistance of his two sons, whom he had at length presented to -Juliette, Victor Hugo presided at these feasts with an affability born -in part of a desire for popularity. Juliette showed herself more -reserved, more severe. Accustomed to treat the poet as a divinity, she -could not tolerate the familiarity of these petty folk. "A brotherly -cobbler is not to my taste," she said harshly. "I cannot resign myself -to this consorting of vulgar mediocrity with your genius." - -Her sweetness to the two sons of the poet was as marked as the -haughtiness of her manner towards the victims of the _Coup d'tat_. For -twenty years she had longed to be friends with them. As far back as -1839, on the occasion of a distribution of prizes at which Charles and -Franois Victor were to cover themselves with honours, she wrote: "What -a pity I cannot witness their triumph! I love them with all my heart, -and would give my life for them; but that is not enough. I will avenge -myself by praying that they may remain always as they are at present: -charming and good." - -Later we find her treasuring their portraits, anxious about their little -childish ailments, pleading for them when they incurred punishment, and -overwhelming them with little presents manufactured by her pen or -needle, whenever she received the master's sanction to do so. - -What joy it must have given her to receive officially at her table these -children grown to manhood! As soon as she became acquainted with them, -she raised the young men to the level of Victor Hugo in the order of her -preoccupations, and resolved to do nothing for the father, in the way of -spoiling and cherishing, that she did not do also for the sons. If she -copied _Les Contemplations_, she protested that she must also write out -Franois Victor's translation of Shakespeare. If she sent Suzanne to -Marine Terrace with a herb soup for the master, she bade her carry six -lilac shirts for Charles. - -Even young Adle and Madame Victor Hugo accepted her good offices -without demur. For Adle, Juliette picked the earliest strawberries and -the first roses of the Nelson Hall garden; she embroidered handkerchiefs -on which Charles had designed the monogram, and bound together the -serial stories of Madame Sand, cut from magazines. For Madame Victor -Hugo she prepared a certain soup made of goose, which, she said, was -most succulent. She lent her Suzanne, her own servant, for the whole -time Marine Terrace was without a cook, and meanwhile went without a -servant herself, and did her own cooking. She spoilt her skin and wore -down her nails, but she took a pride in her devotion and -self-abnegation, and resolved to carry them even further. She dreamt of -entering Victor Hugo's household for good, to assume in all humility the -position of an ex-mistress become housekeeper. - -However numerous may have been the wrongs Victor Hugo inflicted upon -this woman, whose jealousy he never ceased to excite, one must admit -that he felt and appreciated the greatness of her love. Like a great -many men, the artist in him recognised a moral worth that no longer -satisfied his needs as a lover; he experienced generous revulsions, -under the influence of which he paid her carefully studied attentions, -which bore a semblance of impulse and spontaneity gratifying to her -feelings. - - -III - -The young queen, Victoria, having paid France, in the person of Napoleon -III, the gracious compliment of a visit in August 1855, the exiles of -Jersey dared address an insolent letter to her, which was published by -their quaintly-named journal, _L'Homme_. True to his native chivalry, -Victor Hugo declined to sign this manifesto[53]; but he was indignant -when the authorities of Jersey marked their disapproval by expelling its -three authors. He protested vigorously against their punishment, and was -in his turn driven from the island on August 31st. - -He went to Guernsey, a neighbouring island, bleaker and less temperate -in climate. He settled at first at No. 20, Rue Hauteville, St. Pierre -Port. On May 16th, 1856, he bought a roomy, substantial house built on -the shore at some former period by an English pirate. It only required -restoration, to make it a suitable residence. It was called Hauteville -House. - -Here again, Juliette lived successively at the inn, and at a -boarding-house kept by a Frenchwoman, Mademoiselle Leboutellier. But -when she found that Victor Hugo could no longer content himself with a -temporary house, and intended to send for the furniture and -art-collection he had stored at the rooms in Paris,[54] she begged him -to include her in his plans, and let her have her own things also. She -was tired of so-called English comfort, with its hard beds, narrow -sheets, straight-backed chairs, and tiny wardrobes. - -Victor Hugo gave a generous assent to her request. He took a little -house for her, called La Pallue, close to, and overlooking, Hauteville -House. The faithful Suzanne was despatched to France to pack and send to -Guernsey all the Hugo family's and Juliette's possessions. She returned -on August 9th. The furniture and art-collection arrived on the 20th of -the same month. - -A busy time followed, for the lovers. They threw themselves feverishly -into the excitements of removal, decoration, and treasure-hunting. -Victor Hugo dropped spiritualism and photography, which had been his -recreations in Jersey, to become architect, cabinet-maker, and joiner. -He undertook the supervision of Juliette's arrangements as well as his -own, bought antique Norman furniture, which he turned to various uses, -manufactured carpets and curtains out of Juliette's old theatre frocks, -designed panels and mantelpieces, and the many incongruous articles -which now decorate the Muse Victor Hugo, and which his friend aptly -called "a poetical pot-pourri of art." - -In this wise, the fitting up of the two houses lasted over a -considerable period. We learn from Juliette that the poet was still busy -with his dining-room on April 2nd, 1857, and on May 28th, 1858, he -wrote to Georges Sand: "My house is still only a shell. The worthy -Guernseyites have taken possession of it, and, assuming that I am a rich -man, are making the most of the French gentleman, and spinning out the -work." - -Juliette, whose dwelling was more modest, had the enjoyment of it -sooner. She settled into La Pallue at the beginning of November 1856, -and had the happiness henceforth of seeing her friend many times a day. -He had constructed on the roof of Hauteville House a room that he -somewhat pretentiously named his "crystal drawing-room," and that we -should call a belvedere; it was roofed and covered in with glass on all -sides. His bedroom opened out of it. - -Every morning he sat and worked there, at a flap-table affixed to the -wall, when the cold did not drive him to some warmer part of the house. -Beneath his gaze spread the low town, the port, the group of -Anglo-Norman islands, and, in clear weather, the coast of Cotentin. At -his back, and slightly higher up, Juliette, from her little house, kept -watch and ward over him. From that moment it may be said that, though -Juliette's body was at La Pallue, her heart and mind inhabited -Hauteville House. - -Unfortunately, as winter progressed, the storms grew worse, and a -darkness reigned that made reading and copying difficult. "Like a great -lake turned upside down," the sky hung lowering above the gloomy houses, -and only allowed the pale rays of a leaden sun to pierce through it, at -infrequent intervals. The rest of the time the atmosphere remained -charged with rheumatic-dealing clamminess. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO IN JERSEY.] - -Juliette, just entering her fiftieth year, bore the rigours of the -climate with difficulty. She would have died of it, she declared, had -she not been upheld by the influence of love. She was a martyr to gout, -and greatly dreaded being crippled by it. She brooded long and often -upon death and the dead. Whether under the influence of a priest, or in -response to some inward prompting we cannot tell, but she reverted for a -time to her former religious practices. - - -IV - -In April 1863, when Juliette was slowly recovering from another attack -of gout, Victor Hugo realised the extreme humidity of La Pallue. On the -advice of his sons, who seem to have been of one mind with him on the -subject, he decided that Juju, as he called her, should move as quickly -as possible, and that he should for the second time assume the functions -of architect, upholsterer, and decorator of her new dwelling. - -Juliette offered a prolonged and strenuous resistance to the plan, for -the house chosen for her possessed the grave inconvenience of being at -some distance from Hauteville House. The idea that she would no longer -be able to watch every movement of her lover, drew from our heroine -lamentations and loving reproaches. But Victor Hugo was adamant, and on -February 2nd, 1864, the anniversary of the first performance of _Lucrce -Borgia_, "Princesse Ngroni" took up her abode in the new house, which -she named Hauteville Ferie. - -There again the poet had arranged everything himself. Remembering -Juliette's attachment for her rooms in Rue St. Anastase, he had -endeavoured to reconstitute faithfully its curtain of crimson and gold, -its peacocks embroidered on panels, its china, the porcelain dragons -which adorned the dresser, and especially the numerous mirrors that -reflected and multiplied the furniture, knick-knacks, and embroideries. - -When Juliette was shown this "marvel," she said she had no words to -express her admiration and gratitude. Then, knowing how often Madame -Victor Hugo was away on the Continent, and how uncomfortable the poet -was at home, she offered to act in turn as hostess and housekeeper to -him. - -In 1863 we find her assuming Madame Victor Hugo's duties during the -short absence of the latter, and at the end of 1864, during a further -one which lasted until February 1867, she divided her time equally -between Hauteville House and Hauteville Ferie. - -But there is a difference in her methods of ruling the two -establishments. At Hauteville House she governs without obtruding -herself, wisely, discreetly, somewhat mysteriously. She directs the -servants, reproves them if necessary, superintends the accounts, and -keeps down expenses. But she carries out her task from her place in the -background. Officially, the poet lives alone with his sons and his -sister-in-law, Madame Julie Chenay; when he entertains friends from -Paris, Juliette's name is not mentioned. - -At Hauteville Ferie, on the contrary, our heroine is at home. It -behoves her to comport herself as the mistress of the house, and expend -her gifts of mind, as well as her talents as a manager. As she says, -"she must be both lady and housekeeper." - -In this double rle it might be supposed that she would be reluctant to -receive the exiles presented to her by Victor Hugo, whose society is so -distasteful to her. Not so. Once more Juliette accepts, through duty and -devotion, that which she never would have tolerated on her own account. - -The poet was bored, alas! Though he was composing splendid poetry, his -long dialogue with Mother Nature was beginning to pall upon him. His -somewhat theatrical genius demanded more than a fine stage; it required -a public. Without it, the author of _Les Chtiments_ was but the shadow -of the poet of _Ruy Blas_. No doubt the bronzing of his skin by the salt -breath of the sea, and the virulence of his spite against Napoleon III, -lent him a fictitious appearance of spring and vigour; but there were -times when he flagged sadly, and when despondency and fatigue expressed -themselves in the droop of his lips, the sagging of his ill-shaved -cheeks, the wrinkles on his brow, and, especially, the heavy pockets -beneath his eyes. His attire betrayed his complete neglect of himself. -When he walked through the Place de Hauteville in his Girondin hat all -battered by the wind, his cashmere neckcloth carelessly knotted under an -untidy collar, his open coat revealing a buttonless shirt in summer, and -in winter, a faded scarlet waistcoat which Robespierre himself would -have despised, the little children he so loved ran from him as if he -were accursed.[55] - -Juliette grasped these mute warnings, and, as soon as she was -established in the vast frame of Hauteville Ferie, she attempted to -reconstitute the society she had once presided over at Jersey. She even -endeavoured to enlarge the circle and admit a few new-comers. - -Juliette was able to maintain the simple dignity to which she attached -so much importance, and from which she departed only in favour of her -poet, in the most delicate circumstance of her life, namely, when Madame -Victor Hugo offered her her friendship. She did not decline it, but, -where many might have erred by an excess of satisfaction and -familiarity, she showed a discreet reserve highly creditable to her. -Since their exile, the relations of the two women had undergone a great -change. On the one hand, Madame Victor Hugo's perpetual pursuit of -pleasure, her constant fatigue, her laziness, and her incapacity to -manage a house, had gradually involved her in the network of attentions, -civilities, and petting, Juliette lavished upon her and hers. The -reports brought to her by her sons and servants of the doings at -Hauteville Ferie, had given her a good opinion of our heroine; her -natural kindliness did the rest, and she showed herself disposed to -treat in neighbourly, and even friendly, fashion one whom she might -justly have hated as a rival. - -On the other hand, Juliette no longer felt that jealousy of the mistress -against the legitimate wife, that she had experienced at the beginning -of her love-story. But actual friendship between Madame Victor Hugo and -Juliette was hindered for a long time, by the fear of English criticism, -and of those Guernseyites of whom Victor Hugo wrote, that they made even -the scenery of the island look prim. Juliette dreaded the unkind -tittle-tattle the exiles would not fail to retail to her, if she -accepted the advances from Hauteville House. Therefore, during the first -ten years at Guernsey, she only set foot in her friend's house once, in -1858, to inspect the treasures the master had collected in it. Madame -Victor Hugo was absent that day. - -At the end of 1864, the wife of the poet became more urgent in her -invitations. She was about to depart to the Continent, to undergo -treatment for her eyes; her absence might be, and indeed was, -indefinitely prolonged. However careless she might be in housekeeping -matters, she was probably loath to commit her husband to the tender -mercies of her sister, Madame Julie Chenay, who boasted of possessing -neither aptitude for business nor a head for figures. She saw the use -that might be made of the poet's friend, and opened negotiations by -inviting her to dinner. But Juliette declined. This policy of -self-effacement was continued by her even during the long absence of -Madame Victor Hugo in 1865 and 1866. When Victor Hugo pressed her to -dine with him, in secret if necessary, she wrote: "Permit me to refuse -the honour you offer me, for the sake of the thirty years of discretion -and respect I have observed towards your house." - -In the end, however, Madame Victor Hugo gained the day, and overcame -this dignified reticence. On her return to Guernsey on January 15th, -1867, she declared her intention of paying Juliette a visit. The -diplomatic abilities of the poet were taxed to the uttermost in the -regulation of the details of this important event. The visit took place -on January 22nd. It was impossible to avoid returning it. Juliette did -so on the 24th, and thenceforth, no longer hesitated to cross the -threshold of Hauteville House. She went there almost every day, to -revise the manuscript and the copies of _Les Misrables_ with the help -of Madame Chenay; in 1868, she spent the whole month of May under its -roof, while her faithful Suzanne was in France. - -Similarly, she no longer minded being seen in public with Victor Hugo -and his sons, and even his wife, during the journeys they made together. -Whereas in 1861, for instance, on a journey to Waterloo and Mont St. -Jean, we still find her dining apart, and seeming to ignore Charles -Hugo, in 1867, she is constantly at the latter's house in Brussels, -attending the family dinners and enjoying the charm of what she calls "a -delicate and discreet rehabilitation" by Madame Hugo and her -daughter-in-law. She took her share in their joys as in their sorrows. - -It was at Brussels that the three grandchildren of the poet were born, -and there also that he lost successively, in April and August 1868, his -eldest grandchild and his wife. He mourned the latter with the sorrow of -a man from whom the memory of his early love has not faded. As for -Juliette, her regret was thoroughly sincere. She did not venture to -attend the funeral, in deference to outside gossip; but when, a few days -later, she went to the house and saw the empty arm-chair Madame Victor -Hugo's indulgent personality had been wont to occupy, she could not -restrain her tears. - -Victor Hugo and his friend returned to Guernsey on October 6th, 1868. -They continued to inhabit separate houses, but dined together at one or -the other. They also resumed their sea-side walks, and their long -talks, of which the chief topic was the second son of Charles Hugo, an -infant who had been left behind at Brussels. - -The infirmities of increasing age occasionally prevented our heroine -from following her indefatigable companion. She would then remain at her -chimney corner, reading the _Lives of the Saints_ or some devotional -book. She was more than ever prone to reflect upon death. She had been -greatly shocked by the rapidity with which Madame Victor Hugo had -succumbed, and she felt that her turn, and that of the poet, must soon -come. She prayed ardently that she might be permitted to go first. - -In August 1869 Victor Hugo took Juliette with him, first to Brussels, -where Charles Hugo and Paul Meurice joined them, and then to the Rhine, -which held so many sweet memories for both. On their return to Guernsey -on November 6th, he proceeded to plan a journey to Italy for the -following winter. He also made arrangements for the revival of _Lucrce -Borgia_ at the Porte St. Martin. The journey to Italy was never carried -out, but on February 2nd, 1870, on the anniversary of its first -performance, _Lucrce_ had a brilliant success. - -The old poet was enchanted. - -Foreseeing the fall of the Empire, and guessing that the French were -sick of a rgime which, during the last eighteen years, had confused -government with spying, and politics with police, he redoubled the -activity of his propaganda, and indited letter after letter, manifesto -after manifesto. The more Juliette confessed to the lassitude of age, -the more he seemed to defy his years. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -"THAT WHICH BRINGS SATISFACTION TO THE HEART" - - -I - -When Victor Hugo grasped the full extent of the national disaster in -August 1870, he started immediately for Belgium. On the proclamation of -the Republic, he proceeded to the frontier, where a few official friends -awaited him. - -The scene that took place on his arrival was impressive, though somewhat -theatrical. The "sublime outlaw" asked for the bread and wine of France. -After he had eaten and drunk, he begged Juliette to preserve a fragment -of the bread, and buried his face in his hands with the gesture of one -who is dazzled by too much light. Juliette relates that big tears flowed -through his clenched fingers. The bystanders stood in silence, awed by -his emotion.... - -The poet and our heroine stayed with Paul Meurice at Avenue Frochot for -a time, and then went to the Htel du Pavillon de Rohan. Finally they -settled, he in a small furnished apartment at 66, Rue de la -Rochefoucauld, and she close by, in a fairly spacious _entresol_ rented -at fourteen hundred francs, at 55, Rue Pigalle. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO, HIS FAMILY, AND JULIETTE DROUET AT -HAUTEVILLE HOUSE.] - -But hardly had they resumed the peaceful tenor of their ways when they -were forced to uproot again. On February 8th, 1871, Victor Hugo was -elected a member of the Assemble Nationale, and, as he could not -bear to be parted any longer from his grandchildren, he removed his -whole household to Bordeaux, including his son Charles, his mistress -Juliette, and the little heroes of _L'Art d'tre grandpre_. They -started on February 13th, and the poet took his seat on the 15th. On -March 8th he felt it his duty to resign, on account of the refusal of -his colleagues to allow Garibaldi to be naturalised a Frenchman. He was -about to leave, when a fresh sorrow struck him down: this was the sudden -death of Charles Hugo, on March 13th. - -The body of the unfortunate and charming young man was taken back to -Paris, and the funeral took place on the 18th, in the sinister scenario -of the rising insurrection. On the 21st, Victor Hugo went to Belgium to -make arrangements for his grandchildren's future. Two months and a half -later, he was expelled from Brussels, for rewarding its hospitality by -throwing his house open as a refuge to the political miscreants who had -just fired Paris and shed the blood of their compatriots. He was the -object of a violently hostile demonstration on May 27th, 1871, and -afterwards received the decree of expulsion. He went to Vianden, in the -Grand Duchy of Luxembourg, and returned definitely to Paris in September -1871. Juliette had accompanied him everywhere. - -No sooner was the luggage unpacked, than she bravely undertook to amuse -him, by forming a small circle of his friends and admirers, in her -drawing-room at Rue Pigalle. But the undertaking was beyond her powers. -Her long sojourn in a solitary island and her complete absorption in one -sole object, had resulted in the loss of what might be termed her -social talent. In France, and especially in Paris, everything was new -to her, everything caused her agitation. - -The state of her health was not such as to restore her equanimity. She -suffered from gout and heart-disease, was growing stout, walked with -difficulty, slept badly, and was terribly weary: "I am so tired," she -writes, "that I feel as if even eternity would fail to rest me." - -Victor Hugo, therefore, gave up the entertainments at Rue Pigalle; the -boxes were repacked, and on August 14th, 1872, the party returned to -that island where everything spoke to the exile of former joys, from the -anemones he loved, to the cherry-tree he had planted himself. - -In the mornings, at half-past eleven, Victor Hugo used to make his -joyous appearance at Hauteville Ferie, and escort his friend to -Hauteville House, where the luncheon-table was proudly attended by -Georges and Jeanne. In the afternoon, a family drive was organised. The -largest carriage on the island was hardly big enough to contain the dear -beings by whom he loved to be surrounded. The hours drifted peacefully -towards dusk. - -While our heroine lived on future hopes and past memories, Victor Hugo -enjoyed the present more than ever. Every one knows of his gallantry, -and the bold front he offered to advancing age. Amongst other comforting -illusions, he chose to believe that women prefer old men, and he gloried -in proving his theory. With more sense than she has been credited with, -Juliette sometimes managed to close her eyes and ears; at other times -she gently rallied him, congratulating him on the success of his most -recent exploit. But more often it must be admitted that her temper was -not equal to the nobility of her nature. To jealousy was presently added -the pain of humiliation and offended dignity, caused by a vulgar -intrigue, conducted under her very eyes, at her own fireside. - -At last, at the end of the visit to Guernsey, which had turned out so -differently from her expectations, Juliette came to a grave decision. -She resolved to abandon the field to the frail beauties whom chance, -desire, or self-interest, gathered around her poet, and to retire to -live at Brest with her sister, or at Brussels with her friends the -Luthereau. - -Having borrowed 200 frs. from some one, Juliette actually started on -September 23rd, 1873, without leaving the smallest note of farewell for -Victor Hugo. But he lost no time in despatching a letter of recall, and -he couched it in terms so eloquent, and so pathetic, that once more the -poor woman was fain to overlook the past. She returned to Rue Pigalle on -September 27th. She subsequently wrote to the kind hosts with whom she -had taken refuge: "I have been very foolish, very cruel, very stupid; -but I am rewarded. If one could hope for a second resurrection like -this, one might be almost tempted to go through it all again." - - -II - -Shortly after Juliette's act of defiance, her friend imposed the fatigue -of a new removal upon her. The author of _L'Art d'tre grandpre_ had -just lost his son, Franois Victor. More than ever he turned to his -little grandchildren for consolation, and at the end of 1873, he decided -to join households with them and their mother. For a rental of 6,000 -frs. a year, he took two apartments, one above the other, at 21, Rue de -Clichy. On April 28th, 1874, Juliette took possession of the third floor -with her maid, while Madame Charles Hugo, her children, and the poet, -settled in the fourth. - -The receptions and dinners began again almost at once. At first they -were weekly, then bi-weekly, and finally daily. The table was large and -well attended. In addition to the five people forming the family party, -including Juliette, there were rarely fewer than seven guests. Our -heroine, in her capacity of chief steward, usually provided for twelve. -She liked the fare to be simple and substantial: _sole Normande_, -_ctelettes Soubise_, and _poulets au cresson_ were the chief items of -the repast. - -Housekeeping on this scale demanded a staff of competent servants. -Juliette had five, for whom she was responsible. She superintended their -expenditure, their purchases, and the use to which they put the -provisions; she commended good work and reproved faults, and in fact -fulfilled the functions of a majordomo in a situation where the daily -expenditure exceeded 4 for food, and approximated 2 for wines and -spirits. She also had to supervise the department of the invitations, -draw up lists, and sort the guests of each day, so as to temper the -solemnity of a Sch[oe]lcher or a Renan, with the wit and froth of a -Flaubert or a Monselet. Juliette assumed this charge, submitted the -names to Victor Hugo, wrote the letters, opened the answers, and -classified them. If anybody failed at the last moment, she telegraphed -to some one on the "subsidiary list," as she called it, and only ceased -her efforts when she was assured of being able to offer to the -gratified master a full table and a numerous and docile court. - -She was now at the head of that court, but it must not be supposed that -it was by her own desire. On the contrary, she practised the most severe -self-effacement. Clad in black, wearing as her only jewel a cameo set in -gold, representing Madame Victor Hugo, and bequeathed to her in the -latter's will, she usually sat at the chimney-corner in a large -arm-chair. Fatigued by her laborious preparations, it frequently -happened that she fell asleep in the drawing-room, as Madame Victor Hugo -had been wont to do. This lapse of manners so covered her with -confusion, that she made a vow either to bring her health up to the -level of her devotion or else to disappear from view. She did, in fact, -redouble her activities, to an extent astonishing in a septuagenarian. -She undertook to follow the aged poet whenever he mingled with crowds. -At Quinet's and Frdric Lematre's funerals, she was present in the -throng, an infirm old woman, watching from a distance, over a Victor -Hugo, upright as a dart, and full of vitality. Did he wish to make an -ascent in a balloon, she was there; when he conducted a rehearsal, or -read one of his early dramas to his modern interpreters, it was she who -led the applause, declared that the voice of Olympio had retained all -its strength and beauty, and that he had never read better. - -In the period between 1874 and 1878 it must be conceded that Victor Hugo -did his best to secure to his friend a greater degree of mental -tranquillity than she had ever enjoyed before. He was careful to conceal -his infidelities from her, and often succeeded in averting scenes and -reproaches; or, if denial seemed impossible, he tried to palliate his -fault and gain indulgence by addressing to her one of those poetical -odes in which he excelled, and from which she derived such pride and -joy. - -But these were only passing revivals of youthful emotions, in the poet -as well as in his friend. They resemble those bonfires of dead leaves, -lighted by labourers in autumn on the summit of bare hills--their flame -can ill withstand the slightest puff of wind. Such a puff blew upon the -old couple in the course of the year 1878. - -Juliette was greatly troubled about the state of her health. She wrote -to the poet, on January 8th: "I feel that everything is going from me -and crumbling in my grasp: my sight, my memory, my strength, my -courage." - -On June 28th of the same year, at one of those copious banquets to which -he still did full justice, and in the midst of an argument with Louis -Blanc concerning Voltaire and Rousseau, Victor Hugo had a cerebral -attack which alarmed his friends exceedingly. His speech faltered, he -gesticulated feebly. Two doctors summoned in haste failed to give -reassurance, and prescribed absolute rest in the country. On July 4th, -the poet was escorted to Guernsey by a large retinue consisting of his -grandchildren, the Meurice family, Juliette, Monsieur and Madame -Lockroy, Richard Lesclide, and another friend, Pelleport. But no sooner -had they reached the island, than Victor Hugo began to show symptoms of -agitation. It could not be on account of his illness, for he was living -quietly and comfortably, rejoicing at the amusement the season afforded -his friends, and taking his own share of it. But, according to the -testimony of one who has published a book concerning the master as witty -as it is frank,[56] the reason was that he had left behind him in Paris -the heroines of several intrigues; amongst others, the young person -whose behaviour had occasioned Juliette's fit of anger and departure for -Brest,[57] and he was fearful lest the post should convey to Guernsey -the forlorn cooings of the deserted doves, and that some echo of them -should reach Juliette. - -Our heroine was certainly informed of some of the circumstances, for on -August 20th, 1878, while still at Guernsey, she wrote the old man a -letter which is a revelation of the changed character of their -intercourse. Victor Hugo answered somewhat crossly and contemptuously, -and nicknamed Juliette "the schoolmistress." - -On his return to Paris on November 10th, he consented to remove to the -little house at Avenue d'Eylau where he ended his days, and which was -then almost in the country. Juliette took the first floor, and he -occupied the second. But presently she arranged to spend the nights in a -spare room next to his, so that she might be at hand to attend upon him -if necessary. - -From that moment it may be said that her life declined into -uninterrupted sadness and servitude. She was suffering from an internal -cancer, and knew that she was condemned to die of slow starvation! -Nevertheless, she played her part of sick nurse with a devotion and a -minute attention to detail to which all witnesses tender their homage. -She it was who entered the poet's chamber each morning, and woke him -with a kiss; she, who put a match to the fire ready laid on the hearth, -and prepared the eggs for his breakfast; she, who waited on the old man -while he ate, opened his letters, made extracts from them when -necessary, and answered the most important. It was she, again, who -undertook to keep her beloved friend company until midday, and to amuse -him, and acquaint him with the current political and literary news. - -The task was heavy enough to weary a much younger brain. Juliette found -it almost beyond her strength. In 1880 she was so overwrought that she -had become nervous, irritable, and restless. At night, when her offices -of reader and sick nurse were over, it must not be supposed that she was -able to sleep. From her bed in the adjoining room, with eyes fixed, and -ear on the stretch, she watched the slumber of her dear neighbour, under -the great Renaissance baldachino, with its crimson damask curtains. Did -he cough, she rose hurriedly and administered a soothing drink; but if -she coughed herself, and thus ran the risk of awaking him, she was -furious, longed for a gag, and tried to suppress the labouring of her -suffering breast. She cursed the years that had made her love a burden -to its object, and chid her body for a bad servant no longer subservient -to her will. - -Severe as were the physical sufferings she bore so patiently under -shadow of the night, Juliette preferred them to the sadness she endured -during the long, solitary afternoons, while her former companion was at -the Senate, at the Acadmie, or elsewhere. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN 1883. - -From the picture by Bastien Lepage.] - -We must picture her at that period, not as Thodore de Banville -represents her in his formal description, but as Bastien Lepage painted -her with more truth, about the same time. Disease has made cruel inroads -on the grave, serene, once goddess-like features. Her poor countenance -is worn and wasted, covered with a fine network of wrinkles, each one of -which tells its tale of suffering. Her hair, whose sheen was formerly -likened by poets to the satin petals of a lily, and which once fell -naturally into crown-like waves, is roughened and harsh, and has assumed -that yellowish tinge which so often presages death. Her lips, no longer -revived by kisses, are pale, her eyes heavy and anguished, her smile -faded. - -Seated by the fire in winter, and at the open window overlooking the -Avenue d'Eylau in summer, she who was the "Princesse Ngroni," now -presents the woeful appearance of a grandmother without grandchildren. - -Sometimes she tries to pray. She calls death to her aid, she complains -of the slowness with which the bonds of the soul loose those of the -body. - -In September 1882, she made a short journey with Victor Hugo to Veules, -to stay with Paul Meurice, and to Villequier, to stay with Auguste -Vacquerie. She took to her bed immediately on her return. By a great -effort of will, she got up once more, to attend the revival of _Le Roi -s'amuse_ on November 25th; then she finally returned to her chamber and -never left it again. - -Neither her body nor her mind was capable of assimilating nourishment. -She waved happy memories aside. - -Every afternoon the old poet paid her a visit. He disliked any mention -of death, and could not bear the sight of suffering. If we are to -believe Juliette, he had made a rule that every one must forswear -melancholy, and shake off sad thoughts, before appearing in his -presence. Docile as ever, the sick woman endeavoured to smile when he -entered her room. She listened submissively to the arguments by which he -sought to persuade her that she did not really suffer, that there is no -such thing as suffering. Up till May 11th, 1883, the very day of her -death, there remained thus about one hour of the day during which she -still had to play her part, restrain her moans, and look cheerful. She -did it to the best of her power, and doubtless, in the triumph of that -daily victory gained over torture by her indomitable spirit, she found -at last the answer that the poet should have put into the mouth of -Maffio--she discovered that "That which brings satisfaction to the -heart" is neither desire, nor caresses, nor even love: it is -self-sacrifice.[58] - - - - -PART II - -_LETTERS_ - - -_Sunday, 8.30 p.m. (1833)._ - -Before beginning to copy or count words,[59] I must write you one line -of love, my dear little lunatic. I love you--do you understand, I love -you! This is a profession of faith which comprises all my duty and -integrity. I love you, _ergo_, I am faithful to you, I see only you, -think only of you, speak only to you, touch only you, breathe you, -desire you, dream of you; in a word, I love you! that means everything. - -Do not therefore give way any more to melancholy; permit yourself to be -loved and to be happy. Fear nothing from me, never doubt me, and we -shall be blissful beyond words. - -I am expecting you shortly, and am ready with warm and tender caresses -which, I hope, will cheer you. - -Your JUJU. - - -(1833). - -Since you left me I carry death in my heart. If you go to the ball -to-night, it must be at the cost of a definite rupture between us. The -pain I suffer at imagining you moving among that throng of fascinating, -careless women, is too great for you to be able to inflict it without -incurring guilt towards me. Write to me "Care of Madame K...." If I do -not hear from you before midnight, I shall understand that you care very -little for me ... that all is over between us ... and for ever. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 2.30 p.m. (1833)._ - -I cannot refrain, dearly beloved, from commenting upon the profound -melancholy you were in this morning, and upon the doubt you manifest on -every occasion as to the sincerity of my love. This unjustifiable -suspicion on your part disheartens me beyond all expression. It -intimidates me and makes me fear to confide to you the incidents my -dubious position exposes me to. To-day, for instance, I concealed from -you the visit of a creditor, who presented himself to the porter, but -was not shown up. I paid him out of my own resources, without your -knowledge, because you are always telling me _I do not love you_. This -expression from you makes me feel that you hold a shameful opinion of me -and my character, rendered possible perhaps by my situation, but none -the less false, unjust, and cruel. - -I love you _because_ I love you, because it would be impossible for me -not to love you. I love you without question, without calculation, -without reason good or bad, faithfully, with all my heart and soul, and -every faculty. Believe it, for it is true. If you cannot believe, I -being at your side, I will make a drastic effort to force you to do so. -I shall have the mournful satisfaction of sacrificing myself utterly to -a distrust as absurd as it is unfounded. - -Meanwhile, I ask your pardon for the guilty thought that came to me this -morning, and which may possibly recur, if you continue to see in my love -only a mean-spirited compliance and an unworthy speculation. This letter -is very lengthy, and very sad to write. I trust with all my soul, that I -may never have to reiterate its sentiments. - -I love you. Indeed I love you. Believe in me. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 8.15 p.m. (1833)._ - -Here is a second letter. Forgive my epistolary extravagance. Honestly, I -imagine you must soon tire, to put it as mildly as possible, of this -superabundance of letters. - -The reason of my writing again is no novel one: it is merely to repeat -that I love you every day and every instant more and more; that I feel -convinced you are only too eager to return my sentiments, but that -between your desire and your capacity there stands a wall a hundred feet -high, entitled "suspicion." Suspicion leads to contempt, and when that -exists, no real love is possible. There is no answer to what I have just -stated. I feel it, and am crushed by my sorrow. I know not what to do, -where to go, what plans to make. I can only suffer, just as I can only -love you. - -JULIETTE. - -If ever this letter is found, it will be seen that my love was -insufficient in your eyes to atone for my past. - -_2 a.m. (1833)._ - -MY VICTOR, - -I love you truly, and neither know, nor can conceive, any personality -more deserving of devotion than yourself. - -I look up to you as a faithful, reliable friend, as the noblest and most -estimable of men. - -It hurts me to feel that my past life must be an obstacle to your -confidence. Before I cared for you, I felt no shame for it, I made no -attempt to conceal or alter it; but, since I have known you, this -attitude of mind has changed in every respect. I blush for myself, and -dread lest my love have not the strength to erase the stains of the -past. I fear it even more, when you suspect me unjustly. - -My Victor, it is for your love to sanctify me, for your esteem to renew -in me all that once was good and pure. - -I care for you so much that all this is possible. I will become worthy -of you, if you will only help me. - -Farewell. You are my soul, my life, my religion; I love you. - -JULIETTE. - -Your appreciation of my letters is one of the best proofs of love you -have yet given me. I will set to work to reconstruct them. Nothing has -happened since you left me yesterday, except that my love for you has -increased. - - -(1833.) - -Before reading this letter, look upon me once more with affection. - -My poor friend, I am about to grieve and surprise you greatly. Yet it -has to be done. I no longer have the courage to bear up against your -unjust and suspicious jealousy, and your continued mistrust of a -sentiment as pure and true as that which one cherishes towards God. They -wear me out and make me wretched to the last degree. I would rather -leave you, than expose myself to fresh grief, which might end in -destroying either my reason or my love. This resolve is dictated by the -excess of my affection. Even if you suffer, forgive me, and bless me -before you leave me for ever. I love you. - -J. - - -(1833.) - -Since you insist upon a denial of offences which exist only in your -imagination, I owe it to you to make it comprehensive and without -restriction. It is not true that I have tried to offend you by -reproaches unworthy of yourself and of me. It is not true that I have -ever held any opinion of you, but this one, that I esteem you above all -men. - -The real and irrevocable cause of our estrangement, is the certainty -that your love for me is incomplete. I am more persuaded of it every -day, and particularly to-day, when you have actually told me that you -thought I had misled you as to the state of my affections. - -This is a grave offence towards a woman who has never deceived you on -the subject of her heart, and whose only fault is to love you too much; -for her very excess in this respect, has given her the sad courage to -risk losing your esteem, in order to preserve your love one day longer. - -But I am unwilling to think you intended to hurt me by allowing me to -see the canker in your heart. I prefer to believe that we are equally -the victims of a calamity, under which our only resource, is to separate -from one another. Possibly our wounds will heal when they are no longer -exposed to the continual friction of carping suspicion. - -Good-bye. Forgive me if I have offended you. I am loath to hurt you. - -J. - -I beg you not to attempt to see me again. This is the last sacrifice I -will ask of you.[60] - - -_(June 1833.)_ - -MY DEAR VICTOR, MY BELOVED, - -Do not be anxious! I am as well as a poor woman, who has lost her -happiness and the sole joy of her existence, can expect to be. If I -could let you know my place of refuge without exposing us both, but more -particularly myself, to useless wretchedness, I would do so. Confidence, -the indispensable ingredient in a union such as ours, no longer exists -in your mind. God is my witness that I have never once deceived you in -matters of love, during the past four months. Any concealment I have -been guilty of, has only been with the intention of sparing us both -unnecessary worry, in view of the attitude of mind we have been in -lately. - -I may have been wrong; the purity of my intention must be my excuse. - -[Illustration: CLAIRE PRADIER. - -From an unpublished drawing by Pradier.] - -_9.45 p.m. Saturday, August 13th (1833)._ - -While you are on your travels, dearest, my thoughts follow you in all -love. Though I still feel somewhat sore, I will strive to control -myself, and speak only those gentle words you like to hear. - -It was dear of you to allow me to come to your house.[61] It was far -more than a satisfaction to my curiosity, and I thank you for having -admitted me to the spot where you live, love, and work. Yet, to be -entirely frank with you, my adored, I must tell you that the visit -filled me with sadness and dejection. I realise more than ever, the -depth of the chasm that gapes between your life and mine. It is no fault -of yours, beloved, nor of mine; but so it is. It would be unreasonable -of me to call you to account for more than you are responsible for, yet -I may surely tell you, dearly beloved, that I am the most miserable of -women. - -If you have any pity for me, dear love, you will assist me to rise -superior to the lowly and humble position which tortures my spirit as -well as my body. - -Help me, my good angel, that I may believe in you and in the future. - -I beg and implore you. - -J. - - -(1833.) - -It is not quite six o'clock in the evening. I have just finished copying -the verses you gave me yesterday. I am not very familiar with the forms -of compliment in usage in fashionable society. All I can tell you is -that I wept and admired when I heard you read them, that I wept and -admired when I read them to myself, and that once more I weep and admire -in recalling them. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for having -thought of me when you were writing them. Thank you, my beloved, for the -benign sentiments that inspired you. Your beautiful lines have had the -effect you anticipated, for they have acted both as a cordial and a -sedative to my sick spirit. Thank you! thank you! and again, thank you! -You are not only sublime--you are kind, and, what is better still, you -are indulgent, you who have so much right to be severe. - -I love you. My heart melts in admiration and adoration. There is more -rapture of love in my poor bosom than it is capable of containing. Come -then, and receive the superabundance of my ecstasy. - -If you only knew how I long for you, and desire you! If you knew _more -still_, you would come, I am very sure! Come, come, I beg you, come! You -shall have a kiss for every step, a recompense for every effort, more -smiles, and more joy, than you will encounter fog and cold. - -JULIETTE. - -I am writing this a little later because, before turning to business, I -had to unburthen my heart. I came home yesterday, read your poetry, -dined, did my accounts, and went to bed. I read the newspapers you sent, -went to sleep, dreamed of you, and woke up this morning at 8 o'clock. I -rose almost immediately, did some housework, and mended yesterday's -frock. In the middle of breakfast Lanvin arrived, bringing the -newspapers and a letter from M. Pradier and some of Mademoiselle -Watteville's luggage. He asked whether we should want him to see us off. -He left again at 1 p.m., taking Claire's things with him and some of his -wife's. When he had gone, I washed and did my hair, did the same for -Claire, and at 2.30 I sat down to copy, and now I am writing to you. -This, Colonel, is my report. Are you satisfied? Then, so is the Corporal -of the Guard! After dinner I shall hear the children their lessons, and -count the lines of _Feuilles d'Automne_. - -_After dinner._ - -I have heard the children's lessons, and been obliged to punish your -_protge_, Claire, who is the laziest and idlest of all the pupils. I -have just read your poem to Madame Lanvin; she was deeply moved. The -poor thing understands you, therefore I need not explain that she loves -you. Good-night, until to-morrow, I hope. - -I suppose you did not come to-day because you had arrangements to make -for our journey; that is why I am able to possess my soul in patience. - -J. - - -_Sunday, 4 p.m. (1833)._ - -I have just come in sad and depressed. I suffer, I weep, I wail aloud -and moan under my breath, to God and to you. I long to die, that I might -put an end once and for all, to this misery and disappointment and -sorrow. It really seems as if my happiness had disappeared with the fine -weather. It would be folly to expect to see either again. The season is -too far advanced for fine weather or for happy days. You poor silly, -who wonder that I should deplore so bitterly the loss of one day's -happiness, it is easy to see that you had not to wait for the privilege -of loving and being loved till you were twenty-six years old! You poet, -who wrote _Les Feuilles d'Automne_ in an atmosphere of love, laughter of -children, eyes azure and black, locks brown and gold, happiness in full -measure! You have had no cause to notice how one day of gloom and rain, -like this, can make the greenest of leaves wither and fall to the -ground. You cannot therefore know how twenty-four hours robbed of bliss -can undermine one's self-confidence and strength for the future. It is -evident that you do not, for you wonder when I weep; you are almost -annoyed at my grief. You see, therefore, that you do not realise the -measure of my devotion. Surely I have good reason for regretting that I -love you so ardently, when I see that love uncalled for and unwelcome! -Oh, yes, I love you, it is true! I love you in spite of myself, in spite -of you, in spite of the whole world, in spite of God, in spite even of -the Devil, who mixes himself up in it. - -I love you, I love you, I love you, happy or unhappy, merry or sad. I -love you! Do with me what you will, I still shall love you. - -J. - - -_Monday, 1.50 a.m., 1833._ - -I have been standing at the window all this time, my soul stretched -towards you, my ear attentive to every sound, fearing always lest your -courage should fail you before the end of your weary walk. It is half an -hour since you left; I have listened hard, but no sound has reached me -that could make me apprehend you had not the strength to reach your own -house. I trust that while I am penning these lines, you are already -experiencing the relief that bed and repose will bring to your -suffering. No words of mine can suffice to express to you my regret, my -sorrow, my despair, for what happened to-night. I do not acquit you -altogether of guilt, but I ask you to pardon your own, as well as mine. -Forgive me for having yielded to you after what had passed between us. I -ought to have foreseen what would happen, and what did happen. God -knows, I had resisted as long as I could, and had given way only upon -the solemn promise you made me, never to refer to the stains of my -former life, so long as my conduct towards you should remain honest and -pure. - -The last seven months of my life have been absolutely honest and pure! -Yet, have you kept your word? - -If I were the only one to suffer I should be more resigned, but you are -as unhappy as I; you are as ashamed of the insults you heap upon me, as -I am, of receiving them. - -Now that I perceive fully the canker that lies at the root of our -position, it is my part to arrest the progress of the evil by cutting -out my soul and my life, to preserve what can still be saved of yours -and mine. - -Listen, Victor, I urge you not to refuse me your assistance in carrying -out the plan I think indispensable for the honour of us both. - -If anything can give you courage it must be the knowledge that I have -been faithful to you alone, these seven months. Ah, truly I have never -deceived you! Truly! truly! Yet in the course of these same months, how -many mortifying scenes such as that of to-night have taken place! - -Surely you can see that we must no longer hesitate! I will go away by -the first Saumur omnibus. The health of my little girl can serve as a -pretext. When I am with her, I shall be able to reflect upon my -position, and see what I can do in order to render it tolerable. If, as -probably may be necessary, I were to leave the theatre, the furniture -would cover my debt to Jourdain, and if you were unwilling to be -worried, I could request any man of business to sell it, up to the -amount of my bill to Jourdain, which is the only one for which you are -responsible. - -I shall go abroad. Such as I am, I am still capable of earning my -living, which is all that is necessary. - -But all this is beside the question. The important point is that I ought -to start as soon as possible, to-day even, in order to protect us both -from ourselves. - -Before going, I hope to see you once more, unless your condition should -become worse--which is a horrifying thought when I consider that I am -the cause of it. - -But whether I see you or not, whether you are the victim of my temper or -not, I leave with you all my love and all my happiness. I do not reserve -even hope; I give into your keeping my soul, my thoughts, my life. I -take only with me my body, which you have no cause to regret. - -JULIETTE. - - -(_December 20th, 1833._) - -MY BELOVED VICTOR, - -I have been very unjust to you. You have had cause to call me ungrateful -and unworthy. You will soon hate me--soon also, you will have forgotten -me. I feel it. You see, there can be no thought or sentiment of yours -that I do not understand and apprehend. At this moment, even while I am -writing to you, you are blaming me for suffering. You are annoyed with -me for idolising you with an extravagance which renders me mad and -jealous. You are tired of my love. It cramps you, fatigues you. You -meditate flying from me. My bad luck frightens you; you fear to share it -longer. You dread the responsibility--say, rather, you love me less, -perhaps not at all. Oh, what suffering that fear gives me! My head is -aching. I wish I could die. It must be my fault. I have been wrong to -show you the hideous wound in my heart, the jealousy which lacerates and -destroys it. Yes, I ought to have concealed my sufferings from you. I -ought never to fly into those rages that betray the depth of my love and -grief. - -My Victor, do not leave me! I beg you on my knees, not to be daunted -before a public responsibility. Who has the right to demand from you an -account of the measure of the sacrifices you have made for me? What does -it matter if you are denied the justice you deserve? What matter that -you should be held responsible in part for my troubles? The point to be -considered before all others, is your private relations with me. The -responsibility you must accept is towards me only; it concerns only our -two selves. If you repudiate it, it will kill me, for my whole life is -wrapped up in you and your presence. I breathe only through your lips, -see only with your eyes, live only in your heart. If you withdraw -yourself from me, I must die. - -Reflect! This is not a threat, to keep you near me. I am not -exaggerating the extent to which you are necessary to my very -existence--I am only telling you what I feel. It is the truth, but the -truth under restriction, for I hardly dare acknowledge it in its -entirety, even to myself. _I need you! Only you! I cannot exist without -you._ Think of it. Try to love me enough to accept the charge of my -life, with all its attendant bad luck. - -JULIETTE. - - -_2 a.m., January 1st, 1834._ - -TO THEE, MY VICTOR! - -I dare not say anything. Guess what I am feeling and do with me what you -will! - -I love you ... the memory of what has gone before, and my fears for the -future, prevent me from describing my emotions as freely as formerly. -Forget the past, take the future into your own hands, and I shall regain -the faculty of saying "I love you," as earnestly as I mean it. - -I love you.... JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday morning, 1834._ - -TO MONSIEUR VICTOR HUGO, - -IN TOWN. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1830. - -From Champmartin's picture (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -It is a quarter to one. I have been to your printing-works, numbers 16 -and 19; you had not been seen. I went on to your house; you had not come -in. I wrote you a line; I waited for you.... At last I came home hoping -to find you; but you had not been here. My thanks to you for treating me -like a vagrant dog. You had informed me that you were going to the -printing-works, that you might go back to your house, that you would -certainly go to mine. - -You forgot your promises at once, and you apparently hold my love very -cheap. - -If you, indifferent though you may be, could see me in imagination, as I -sit writing to you, you would be horrified at the condition your -injustice and disdain have reduced me to. - -It is evident that you no longer love me, and that you are only bound to -me by the fear of causing some great calamity if you desert me. It is -indeed grievous that this should be the only sentiment which links you -to me, and I am unwilling to accept a devotion so hollow and -humiliating. I give you back your freedom. From this moment you have no -responsibility towards me, although my heart is broken, although my soul -is still fuller of love than it is able to contain, although my eyes, as -I write, are drenched with bitter tears. I shall still have the courage -necessary to bear my life as it will be, when bereft of happiness and -laughter. - -You have been very cruel to me. I forgive you. Forgive also my tempests -of rage. I am ashamed of them, and thoroughly wretched. I swear to you -by that which I hold most sacred in life, namely my child, that I am -unable to explain how I can have been guilty yesterday of a thing I -utterly disapprove of, and which seems to me the acme of effrontery. I -swear I never saw those men. I am innocent of any crime. I can say no -more. You have crushed me by referring again to my past life, and even -while I am assuring you of my love and repentance, and while I still -hope for a reconciliation, I tremble to feel that you can suspect me so -unjustly. My heart shrinks from the sorrow still in store for it ... my -pen fails me ... - -Farewell! May you enjoy greater tranquillity and happiness than will -fall to my lot. Do not forget that, for a whole year, we were happy -solely by means of our love. - -Good-bye! I have indeed received my full meed of punishment for the -imaginary crime of yesterday. - -Farewell. Think of me without bitterness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 2 a.m. (1834)._ - -I returned from the Place Royale about two hours ago. It was ten o'clock -when I arrived there, and I left at about midnight. I had hoped to bring -you back with me, or, failing to do so, to catch at least a glimpse of -you. I waited patiently all that time, hoping that you would become -aware of my presence, and reward me for it by one glance. But everything -remained dark and gloomy for me, though it was easy to see the lights -through the drawn blinds, and the shadows of many people moving about. - -It will not be the last time, in all probability, that I shall have the -opportunity of seeing that, while I suffer and weep, you make merry. -Forgive me, my Victor, forgive me for this comparison of our respective -lots. It is the last time I shall make it, perhaps even the last time I -shall write to you, for you have said that you will not read any more of -my letters for a long time ... a long time signifies "for ever," for you -will forget me and I shall die. Your love was my whole life. To-night I -feel as miserable as I should be if you no longer loved me. God, how -sorely I need pity! - -I have just obeyed your wishes by putting all your works away carefully. -As for my own relics of you, I have collected them in an English desk, -under lock and key, and hidden them under my bolster, where they shall -always remain. - -Farewell, the performance of this duty has been a mournful satisfaction -to me. - -_Saturday, 6 p.m., 1834._ - -TO THEE, MY BELOVED. - -You promised that as soon as your work was finished, you would devote -all your time to me; you also said, when you were leaving me yesterday, -that you would come early this morning. Neither of these promises have -you kept; yet I have never longed for your presence and your love more -than at this moment, when anxiety seems to have taken up its abode with -me. I have been so worried that I do not know whether I could endure -another day like this. - -I am thankful to leave this house; it is so haunted by ill-luck and -sadness, that to be quit of it will be a relief. - -My Victor, what is going to become of us? What can we do to avert the -misfortune that threatens us?[62] Can you think of any way out of the -trouble? Do you love me? I love you so! in prosperity, and still more in -adversity. Oh, God be merciful to me! Without your help I am done. - -JULIETTE. - -I have no other refuge or I should not go to Madame K. I cannot wander -about alone, for that would make you anxious; yet I cannot stay here, I -am too miserable. I will wait for you at Madame K.'s house until nine -o'clock. I hardly know what I am writing, or have written. My reason and -will are in abeyance this morning. - -I write because I am wretched, because I must make moan to someone or -something. I write because I shall soon be dead. These lines will be the -cold remains of my soul and thoughts and love, as my body will be the -corpse of my warm flesh and blood. - -I write to declare my faith, to obtain pardon of my sins, to weep, -because my tears strangle me and will put an end to me. - -I shall be in the street to-night. I shall remain there as long as my -strength holds out, without hope, but still, near you.... - - -_Midnight, Saturday, August 2nd, 1834._ - -TO VICTOR. - -Farewell for ever. You have decreed it thus. Farewell then, and may you -be as happy and admired as I shall be hapless and forlorn. - -Farewell! This word comprises my whole life, and joy, and happiness. - -JULIETTE. - - -I am going away with my child. I am just going out to fetch her and take -our places. The Comdie Franaise management has no claim on my services -until it has assigned me my parts. My maid has orders to open my -letters. If there should be one from the Comdie Franaise she would let -me know at once and everything could be arranged. I need not, therefore, -worry about it at present. - - -(1834.) - -MADEMOISELLE MARIE, -C/O MADAME DROUET, -No. 4 bis, Rue de Paradis au Marais, Paris. - -Enclosed is a letter for Monsieur Victor Hugo. If he should not come to -the house, try and manage to let him know that there is one awaiting him -at No. 4, Rue de Paradis au Marais, from Madame Kraftt. If he is still -in Paris I expect he will understand what you mean, and will either send -for it or fetch it himself. In any case, write to me by every post and -tell me about Monsieur Victor Hugo: whether you have seen him, what he -has said to you, whether he is still in Paris, or whether he has left; -in fact, tell me everything you can find out concerning him. - -I am writing from Rennes, where I arrived very ill, with my child. I -hope, however, to be able to leave to-morrow and go to my sister. Write -to me there and address thus: - -MADAME DROUET, -C/O M. LOUIS KOCK, -Saint Renan, -By Brest. - -Please take good care of the house. - -J. DROUET. - - - (ENCLOSURE) - -RENNES, -_2.30 p.m., Monday (1834)._ - -MY DEAR VICTOR, - -I am writing this letter on the chance of its reaching you, but with the -sad premonition that you will never read it. - -My beloved, I love you more than ever. I cannot do without you. I would -willingly die for you, but I cannot consent to accept a devotion which -might endanger your health and your life. I was forced to fly from you. -It cost me much to resist your supplications and your wrathful glances. -I suffered frightfully; and now, alas, I know that, were you with me, I -could no longer withstand either your gentle pleading or your terrible -anger. I am very wretched. I love and bless you. Be happy! - -JULIETTE. - - -One portion of your curse has already come to pass. My soul and body -have suffered severely. In addition, I have been harried to death by the -idiotic authorities, who are suspicious of every woman without a -passport. I have been at Rennes about half an hour. It is half-past two. -I leave again for Brest to-morrow morning at four o'clock; I expect to -arrive on Thursday at five in the evening. My Victor, I love you. I -could do anything for you. Have pity upon me. I love you better than -anything in life. - - -_August 5th, 1834._ - -MADEMOISELLE MARIE, -Care of MADAME DROUET, -No. 4 bis, Rue de Paradis au Marais, Paris. - -Here is another letter for Monsieur Victor Hugo. Try to get it to him. -If he is in the country near Paris, let him know that there is something -at my house in the name of Madame Kraftt that will interest him. - -I have spent a sad and sleepless night. I am afraid of falling really -ill. Answer this at once. - -J. DROUET. - - - (ENCLOSURE) - -RENNES, -_4 a.m., August 5th (1834)._ - -Victor, I love you. Victor, I shall die of this separation. I need you, -to be able to live. Since I told you everything, since the moment when -my eyes could no longer rest upon yours, I have felt as if all my veins -were being opened, and my life's blood slowly drained away. I feel -myself dying, and I know that I love you the better for every pang. My -Victor, can you forgive me? Do you still love me? Is it really true that -you hate me, that I am odious in your sight, that you despise me, that -you would grind my face to the pavement if I pressed my lips to your -feet, pleading for forgiveness? Oh, if you still love me, if you still -respect me, if you can forgive everything, only tell me so, and I will -do all you wish! Everything, I swear! Will you take me back? - -I am very ill. - -J. - - -_3 a.m. (1834)._ - -FOR MY VICTOR. - -While I was expecting to see you I could not sleep. Now that the hope is -dead I still cannot sleep because I am unhappy. I grieve not to have -seen you; I grieve because I was cross and ill-tempered when you were -gentle and charming. I rehearse in imagination all the incidents of the -evening, and the pain at my heart grows unbearable. It is wicked of me -to torment you, yet I cannot help myself. My offence goes by the name of -"jealousy." Much as I dread displeasing you, I yet cannot avoid giving -way to that hideous passion. I make you miserable when I should like to -saturate you with happiness. Oh, it is horribly wrong of me! I am much -to be pitied, for I am jealous, and of whom? The most beautiful, the -most gentle, the most perfect of women ... your wife! Heaven forgive me! -My torment is surely sufficient expiation for my fault! - -God, how I love you! how I love my Victor! All is contained in these -words. You do forgive me, do you not? and you love me as much as ever? I -hope so ... else, I should prefer to die. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 3 p.m. (1834)._ - -I have abandoned hope ... yet love remains. I no longer believe that any -happiness is possible for me in the future, but _you_ I love more every -day; better than the first day, better than yesterday, better than this -morning, better than a moment ago; and still I am not happy. - -[Illustration: A PAGE OF JULIETTE DROUET'S NOTE-BOOK IN 1834. - -The note-book belongs to M. Louis Barthou.] - -You remember what I used to say to you when _Marie Tudor_ was in -rehearsal? "Those wretches have robbed me of my self-confidence; I dare -not, cannot rehearse any more; I feel paralysed." - -To-day, it is not a theatrical part that is in question--it is my life. -Now that calumny has crushed me, now that my mode of life has been -condemned without my having a chance of self-defence, now that my health -and reason have been expended in this struggle without profit or glory, -now that I have been held up before the public as a woman without a -future, I dare not, cannot live longer ... this is absolutely true ... I -dare not live. This fear has brought me to the verge of suicide ... a -peculiar suicide. I do not propose to kill myself like other people. I -mean to sever myself from you, and, to me, such a severance signifies -death. Death certainly. I have already made one experiment of the kind, -therefore I am sure. - -I am confirmed in this project by the reflection that you will thereby -be restored to liberty; that you will be free to direct your life and -your genius in the way best suited to your happiness; that I shall no -longer be an obstacle in your path, but an object of pity and -indulgence--pity for what I shall suffer, indulgence and forgiveness for -such of my faults as have made you suffer. - -If the excess of my love and grief should bring me back to your side, do -not notice me ... shut your eyes, stop your ears, remain in your own -house ... thus you may learn to forget, while I ... I ... shall die. I -shall not suffer long. I shall soon be at rest. - -It is raining hard at this moment, and I am in a raging fever. No -matter, I shall go out. I do not know whether you propose coming to -fetch me. If you do not, I cannot tell what time I shall return home. I -don't care, I am mad! I am in torture such as I have never yet endured! -yet I love you even more than I suffer. My love dominates my whole -being. I love you! - -JULIETTE. - - -5.30 (1834). - -You wish me to write to you in your absence. I am always unwilling to -accede to this desire, for when we are separated, my thoughts are so sad -and painful that I should prefer to hide them from you if possible. - -You see, my Victor, this sedentary, solitary life is killing me. I wear -my soul out with longing. My days are spent in a room twelve feet -square. What I desire is not the world, not empty pleasures, but -_liberty_--_liberty_ to act, liberty to employ my time and strength in -household duties. What I want is a respite from suffering, for I endure -a thousand deaths every moment. I ask for life--life like yours, like -other people's. If you cannot understand this, and if I seem foolish or -unjust in your eyes, leave me, do not worry about me any more. I hardly -know what I am writing; my eyes are inflamed, my heart heavy. I want -air, I am suffocating! Oh, Heaven, have pity upon me! What have I done -to deserve such wretchedness? I love you, I adore you, my Victor; have -pity upon me. Kill me with one blow, but do not let me suffer as many -eternities as there are minutes in every one of your absences. - -What am I saying? I am delirious, feverish. Oh God, have mercy on me! - -JULIETTE. - - -_November 4th, 8.30 p.m. (1834)._ - -Yes, you are my support, the stable earth beneath my feet, my hope, my -joy, my happiness, my all! I do not know how these halting words of mine -can be expected to convey my thoughts to your mind, but this indeed is -truly and sincerely meant: that you are to me the noblest, most sincere, -most generous of men. I believe this, and have absolute confidence in -your power to frustrate the evil fate which holds me in its grip. - -My dearly beloved, you were quite charming just now, and you are -perfectly right when you say that there is an element of vanity in your -nobility of conduct; for nothing could be more becoming than the elegant -and dignified manner in which you raised me just now from my knees. You -were really great. You were a king! - -My darling little Toto, _chri!_ I am going to bed now, because I am not -certain that you will come early enough to take me out; and, after all, -you are not the sort of man to be scandalised by finding a woman in bed, -especially ... - -JULIETTE. - - -1834. - -MY DEARLY BELOVED, - -I am always wishing I were a great actress, because, if my soul and -intellect were equal to yours, another link would be forged between us; -but I wish it still more at such a time as this, for I should then be -able to relieve you of the annoyance of being at the mercy of an old -woman, whose conceit has made her aggressive.[63] - -I need not finish this letter, for here you are! - - -1835. - -It is long after 11 o'clock. I am no longer expecting you for a walk, -but I still hope to see you this evening. I write you these few lines as -an apology for the disappointment I feel each time you fail me. I am -miserable, but not angry; I shed tears, but do not reproach you; I am -often much to be pitied, but I never cease loving you to distraction. If -only you would believe this, I think I could bear my invidious position -with more resignation. I am afraid you misapprehend my love, and this -anxiety often makes the days seem long and sad. - -But I must not forget that you are working and worn out, and that you -have neither strength nor leisure to listen, that is to say, to read of -my worries. - - -11.30 _p.m._ - -Here you are! I am finishing this letter more untidily even than usual. -Luckily one's character, and, more important still, one's heart, are not -exclusively interpreted by one's handwriting. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 3.15 p.m._ (1835). - -MY POOR, DEAR, BELOVED TOTO, - -When I see you so preoccupied with important business I am ashamed to -add to your fatigues by the reiteration of my devotion, which you -already know by heart. Did I not fear that you would misunderstand my -silence, I should put an end to these letters, which, after all, are -only a cold skeleton, a dull narrative of the generous, tender, -passionate feelings which fill my heart. I should stop them, I say, -until after the production of your play, reserving to myself the -privilege of taking my revenge afterwards by multiplying my words and -caresses. This is what I should do if you felt only a quarter as much -solicitude for your dear little person as I do. - -It is nearly three o'clock. I hope by this time everything has gone off -well at rehearsal. It is high time, my admired, beloved, adored poet, -you left that wretched den they call the Thtre Franais. You will -leave it with full credit to yourself, notwithstanding the ill-will of -that jealous old wretch, and the stupidity, hatred, and malice of the -cabal against you. - -You will see, my splendid lion, whether those hideous crows will dare -croak in face of your roaring. As for me, if anything could make me -prouder and happier, it would be that I alone understand you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 1.30 p.m., April 11th (1835)._ - -Why were you so smart just now? It makes me dreadfully anxious, -especially in conjunction with your early morning walks to the Arsenal. -Toto ... Toto ... you do not know what I am capable of; take care! I do -not love you for nothing. If you deceived me the least bit in the world -I should kill you. But no, seriously, I am jealous when I see you so -fascinating. I do not feel as reassured as you would wish me to be. In -fact, I insist upon attending these rehearsals. I do not choose to -confide my dear lover to the discretion of nobody knows who. I wish to -keep my lover to myself, in the face of the nation and of all French -actresses. - -That is my politic and literary resolve: I shall put it into execution, -from to-morrow. - -By the way, this is my birthday. You did not even know it--or, rather, I -dare say you do not care whether I was ever born or not. Is it true that -you do not mind one little bit? That is all the importance you attach to -my love! And yet one thing is very certain: that I was created and put -into the world solely to love you, and God knows with what ardour I -fulfil my mission. - -I love you--ah, yes, indeed, I love you--I love my Victor! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 p.m. (1835)._ - -I am more than ever resolved to separate our lives one from the other. -What you say about Mlle. Mars's increasing age and the impossibility of -obtaining a double success through her, literary as well as financial, -and about the necessity of securing the services of Madame Dorval or -some equally handsome and celebrated actress, makes me determined to -sever our connection as speedily as possible, no matter where I may have -to go, or under what pecuniary conditions. Your words to-night prove -that you have had private intelligence about Mlle. Mars, Madame Dorval, -and the theatre generally, that you have concealed from me, although it -must completely revolutionise the plans made by you for the first play -you were to give at this theatre. The secrecy you have maintained on the -subject, contrary to all your promises to conceal nothing from me, -grieves me more than the treachery of Monsieur Harel and Mlle. George, -more even than the wicked animosity of your enemies and the perfidy of -your intimate friends against myself. This silence is proof positive -that I am a hindrance to your interests; you dread my ambition and my -jealousy; you had already seen the propriety of giving a part to Madame -Dorval, but you did not dare tell me so, for fear of encountering -resistance and tears from me at this new distribution. You have only -partially averted these. I will not attempt to thwart you, on the -contrary; as for my tears, they are not worth wiping away, nor even -restraining.[64] From this very night we cease our communion of dramatic -interests. I go back to the position I ought never to have left: that of -a hack actress, who is given any part, and badly paid at that. You -resume your liberty without any impediment. - -Let us hope this new resolution will conduce to our greater happiness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, April 28th, 1835. -Four hours before the production of "Anglo."_ - -This is just to remind you of my love, and that it will only be purified -and augmented by the ill-luck and perfidy to which you are more exposed -than others, my noble poet, my king--king, indeed, of us all, though -lover only of me: is that not so? I have nothing to fear from you, have -I, my darling? You will take care of yourself and resist the advances of -that shameless woman. Promise me this. I would not allude to it to-day, -only I feel so uneasy at the thought of your spending the whole evening -in her society, that I would give my life to prevent it. If you -understood the greatness and quality of my love, you would appreciate my -alarm. - -Think of poor me, sitting at the back of a box to-night, enduring all -the anguish of jealousy and love. - -JULIETTE. - -Madame Pierceau came at one o'clock, leaving Monsieur Verdier in a cab -below. He was desperate at the loss of his stall, which, he hears, was -taken from him by your orders. As I did not know what to say about it, I -advised Madame Pierceau to send him to you. Monsieur Pasquier, as I -anticipated, has not taken Madame Rcamier's box. I wonder what you have -done with it. Did it reach you in time? - - -_Midnight, Tuesday, April 28th, 1835. -An hour after the triumph of "Anglo."_ - -My cup is full. Bravo! bravo!! bravo!!! bravo!!!! bravo!!!!! For the -first time I have been able to applaud you as much as I wished, for you -were not there to prevent it. - -Thank you, my beloved! Thank you for myself, whose happiness you -increase with every second of my life, and thank you also for the crowd -that was there, admiring, listening, and appreciating you. - -[Illustration: AUTOGRAPH LETTER FROM JULIETTE DROUET TO HER DAUGHTER -CLAIRE.] - -[Illustration: AUTOGRAPH LETTER FROM JULIETTE DROUET TO HER DAUGHTER -CLAIRE (_continued_).] - -I saw and heard everything, and will tell you all about it; although if -the applause, enthusiasm, and delirium could be measured by sheer -weight, my load would indeed be heavy. I will give you full details of -the performance, to-morrow, for I dare not hope to see you to-night; it -would be too much happiness for one day, and you do not want me to go -mad with joy! - -Till to-morrow, then. If you knew how conscientiously I clapped Madame -Dorval, you would hesitate to say or do anything to add to the soreness -I already feel at the thought that another than I has been selected to -interpret your noble sentiments. There, now I am giving way to sadness -again, because you are with that woman! - -Good-night, my beloved. Sleep well, my poet, if the sound of the great -chorus of praise does not prevent it. To your laurels I add my tender -caresses and thousands of kisses. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 8 p.m. (1835)._ - -If I were a clever woman, my gorgeous bird, I could describe to you how -you unite in yourself the beauties of form, plumage, and song! I would -tell you that you are the greatest marvel of all ages, and I should only -be speaking the simple truth. But to put all this into suitable words, -my superb one, I should require a voice far more harmonious than that -which is bestowed upon my species--for I am the humble owl that you -mocked at only lately. Therefore, it cannot be. I will not tell you to -what degree you are dazzling and resplendent. I leave that to the birds -of sweet song who, as you know, are none the less beautiful and -appreciative. - -I am content to delegate to them the duty of watching, listening and -admiring, while to myself I reserve the right of loving; this may be -less attractive to the ear, but it is sweeter far to the heart. I love -you, I love you, my Victor; I cannot reiterate it too often; I can never -express it as much as I feel it. - -I recognise _you_ in all the beauty that surrounds me--in form, in -colour, in perfume, in harmonious sound: all of these mean _you_ to me. -You are superior to them all. You are not only the solar spectrum with -the seven luminous colours, but the sun himself, that illumines, warms, -and revivifies the whole world! That is what you are, and I am the lowly -woman who adores you. - -JULIETTE. - - -If you are coming to fetch me, as you led me to expect, I shall see you -very soon now. I have never longed more ardently for you. Lanvin has -just come. I will tell you about it when I see you. - - -_Thursday, 7.30 p.m. (1835)._ - -TO MY DEAR ABSENT ONE. - -I hardly saw you this morning. I have not seen you this evening, and God -knows what time it will be before you come to take me to _Anglo_--for I -do not admit the possibility of a single performance taking place -without my presence: besides, I am not sorry to know exactly how much -time you spend with these actresses of the sixteenth century, and those -of the nineteenth, who are no less dangerous. There, I am nearly as -cross as I am sad. I had vowed I would not write at length to-day, just -to teach you not to throw my letters aside without reading them. -Myself, my letters, forgotten! You certainly manage to be the most -worshipped and the least attentive of lovers. Oh, you do not care! - -Never mind, I am sad. I am longing for you to-night, as the poor -prisoner hungers for his pittance at the hour he is accustomed to -receive it. - -But you are indifferent--you can calmly let my soul die of inanition--do -you not love me, then? Tell me! - -Well, I love _you_. I love you my Victor. I forgive you, because I hope -it is not your fault, and also, because I cannot prevent myself from -loving you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 8 p.m., 1835._ - -You hurt me a little bit just now, my Toto. While I was sacrificing the -happiness of being with you one moment longer, to your need of repose, -you were worrying about trifles, and not giving me a thought or a -farewell. In moments like these I am forced to realise that you do not -care for me as I care for you, and I feel wretched in consequence. - -Another thing I have observed is that you never allude to my letters. -You neither notice the complaints I make nor the love I shower upon you -with every word. You have turned my happiness and content into sadness. -My Toto, _you do not love me as I love you_. You have exhausted your -faculty of loving. I tell myself that the enthusiastic and passionate -devotion you once cherished for me has degenerated into mere -partiality--then I mourn and mope, like a woman betrayed. - -If you knew how I love you, my Toto, you would understand the anguish of -my eagerness, you would pity me, and, instead of leaving my letters -unanswered, you would fly to me the moment you have read them, to -reassure and comfort me if my fears are unfounded. - -Never mind, I give you a thousand kisses. How many will you waste? - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 12.30 p.m. (1835)._ - -MY DEAR LITTLE TOTO, - -You have written me a very charming letter. I cannot send you one as -fascinating; all I can do is to give you my whole heart and thoughts and -life. - -You are quite right when you say that I shall soon give myself to you -again, regardless of the sorrows that may follow. It is true, for I -could sooner dispense with life than with your love. - -But let me tell you again the joy, surprise, and happiness, your letter -caused me. You are better than I, and you are right when you think me an -old idiot. I am in the seventh heaven this morning. You have never given -me so much happiness, my dear little Toto. I am so grateful! I cannot -love you more in return, for that were impossible; but I can appreciate -in a higher degree your worth and the depth of your affection for me. - -You are my dear little man, my lover, my god, my adored tyrant! I love -you, adore you, think of you, desire you, call upon you! - -JULIETTE. - -Which do you like best, quality or quantity? - - -_Monday, 8.20 p.m. (1835)._ - -I adore your jealousy when it gives me the pleasure of seeing you at an -unaccustomed hour; but when it simply consists in suspecting me without -advantage to ourselves, oh, how I detest it! - -You were rather cross to-day, but you atoned so amply by coming as you -did, that I would willingly see you a little bit unjust to me every day, -if it entailed the pleasure of having you one minute longer in the -evening. - -If you only knew how true it is that I love you, you could never be -jealous, or admit the possibility of my being unfaithful to you; and -again, if you knew how much I love you, you would come every moment of -the day and of the night, to surprise me in that occupation, and you -would ever be welcomed with transports of joy. - -Yes, yes, I love you! I do not say so to force you to believe it, but -because I crave to repeat it with every breath, with every word, in -every tone. I adore you much more than you can ever wish. I love you -above all things. - -JULIETTE. - -You attach too little importance to my letters as a rule. You forget -that fine unguents are contained in small boxes, great love in trivial -words. - - -_Friday, 2 p.m. (1835)._ - -You want a huge long letter ... and yet another huge long letter ... you -are not very modest in your requirements. What would you say if I asked -as much?--you, who write to every one in the world except me. I have a -great mind to treat you according to your deserts, and write only as -much as you write, love you only as much as you love me. You would be -nicely punished if I did this. But do not fear; I should never play you -such a scurvy trick. I am too much in need of an outlet for the -superabundance of my heart, to venture to close the issue. I am too -anxious to tell you every day how much I adore you, to condemn myself to -silence. I long too much to get near you, in thought at all events, to -afford to cut off the way of communication. Now that you know why I -write so often, I will begin my letter. - -My dear little Toto, although it is not long since I left you, I desire -you with all the impatience and all the inclination that comes of a long -separation. I should like to know where you are and what you are doing. -I should like to be wherever you are, and, above all, I should like to -be in your heart and thoughts, as you are in mine. I should like to be -you and you me, in respect of love. The rest becomes you and you only. -You are admired; I need to be loved. Are you capable, I ask you, of -loving me as much as I love you, or half as much? even that would be -immeasurable. If you only knew the extent of my love, you would treasure -me, only for that. - -I love you, love you, love you, love you, love you! - -This short little word, issuing from my heart, has impetus enough to -mount right up to the heavens. I love you! - -JULIETTE. - -I have received a letter from my daughter. This, combined with the -horrible weather, makes me quite happy. - - -_Friday, 9 p.m. (1835)._ - -You gave me a delicious afternoon. How delightfully you talked! I am not -alluding to your wit; a fly does not seek to raise an ingot of gold! -Neither do I speak of the happiness of leaning upon your arm, listening -to your voice, gazing into your eyes, breathing your breath, measuring -my steps by yours, feeling my heart beat in unison with yours. - -There can be no happiness greater than that I enjoyed this afternoon -with you, clasped in your arms, your voice mingling with mine, your eyes -in mine, your heart upon my heart, our very souls welded together. For -me, there is no man on this earth but you. The others I perceive only -through your love. I enjoy nothing without you. You are the prism -through which the sunshine, the green landscape, and life itself, appear -to me. That is why I am idle, dejected, and indifferent, when you are -not by my side. I do not know how to employ either my body or my soul, -away from you. I only come to life again in your presence. I need your -kisses upon my lips, your love in my soul. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 11 a.m. (1835)._ - -GOOD MORNING, MY VICTOR! - -Let me first kiss you. Of all the promises I made you yesterday, when we -separated, only one has been broken. I promised to love you as I loved -you at that moment--that is to say, more than all the world; but I do -not know how it happened, I have come to love you much more! and I feel -it will be so as long as I shall live. I beg you, my dear little Toto, -to make up your mind to this, as I have already done. - -Do you know, my blessed Toto, you are a second little Tom Thumb, far -more marvellous than your prototype; for, not merely with pebbles or -crumbs of bread do you mark the roads along which you travel, but -actually with jewels and precious stones. I shall always recognise the -spot where you dropped an enormous ruby as big as a flint, yesterday, -with as much indifference as if it had been a piece of grit from -Fontainebleau. - -What do you suppose must happen to an insignificant creature like myself -in the presence of so much wealth, in the midst of the enchantments of -your mind? Will she lose her reason? That is already done. As to her -heart, you stole it from her very easily, and therefore nothing remains -to the poor wight but what is already yours. - -Her love, her admiration, her life, belong to you! My glances, words, -caresses, kisses, all, are yours! - -JULIETTE. - - -(1835.) - -It seems to be always my turn to write to you now. In the old days your -letters called forth my letters, your love mine--and it was meet that it -should be so, for, as you have often said, the man should be the pursuer -of the woman. It is always awkward when a change of _rles_ occurs, and -I am acutely conscious of it. I feel that a caress from you gives me far -more happiness and security than thousands of those elicited by me. - -It is already half-past eleven and you have not arrived. Perhaps you are -not coming, and the prohibition you laid upon me yesterday against -seeking you at the printing works redoubles my anxiety and jealousy. I -fear lest some untoward thing may have befallen you, or, worse still, -some agreeable invitation reached you. My heart is crushed as in a vice; -I think there is no greater suffering in this world than that of loving -yet fearing. We arrange our lives very badly. Since you are not a free -agent, and may be prevented from seeing me by thousands of circumstances -we cannot foresee, you should at least allow me the opportunity of -knowing what you are doing and where you are. It would satisfy me and -keep me content. Instead of this, I have to wait for you, a prey to -fears that tear at my heartstrings. Alas, I am to be pitied for loving -you so intensely. It is a superabundance that will surely kill the body -which bears it. - -If you love me only moderately, I pray God to deprive me of one of two -things: either my life, or my love. - -JULIETTE. - -Nearly midnight. What a night I have before me! God pity me! - - -AT METZ, -_September 17th, Thursday, 8.15 a.m., 1835._ - -Good-morning, my Toto, good morning. It is magnificently fine, and we -are going to be enormously happy. We are about to resume our bird-life, -our life of love and freedom in the woods. I am enchanted. If only you -were here, I should kiss you with all my might and main, as a reminder. - -What sort of a night did you have? Did you love me? Have you been -writing to me under the old chestnut-tree? I am sure you have not. You -scamp, I am afraid I go on loving you in proportion to the decrease of -your affection. - -I was not able to read last night. I went to bed at a quarter past ten, -and had horrid dreams. I trust they will not come true, but I confess I -should be glad to get news of my poor little girl, whom we neglect far -too much. If two more days go by without a letter, I shall write to -Saumur, for I am really worried about her. - -My dear little Toto, I am going to dress now, so as to get to you -earlier. I love you, I love you with all my strength and all my soul. I -kiss you! I adore you! Till this afternoon. - -Your JULIETTE. - - -AT METZ, -_September 24th, Thursday, 8.45 a.m._ - -Good-morning, my darling Victor. I love you and am happy, for we are -going to be more absolutely together than was possible yesterday, or the -day before, when an inconvenient third disturbed our privacy. Also the -weather is glorious, and I am madly in love with you; so everything -around me glows radiant and beautiful. - -I stayed in bed until 8.30, although I woke up at seven o'clock; but I -just rolled lazily about, thinking of you, and reading yesterday's -newspapers. I reached home exactly at seven o'clock last night, -undressed, tidied my things, dined, wrote to you, did my accounts, and -read _Claude Gueux_ till half-past ten. Then I put my hair into -curl-papers, and got into bed at eleven o'clock. I went to you in -spirit, and dreamt that I was kissing Baby Toto, and making big Toto -jealous. This is the complete history of my morning up to date; now I -shall dress, breakfast, and go for a walk in the meadows with the maid. -Farewell, dearest, until this afternoon's happiness. Always yours in -love and longing. - -I love you with all my heart, I embrace you in spirit, I adore you with -my whole soul, I admire you with every faculty of my mind. Think of me, -come to me, come to me as soon as possible. My arms, my cheek, my whole -being, await you. - -J. - - -AT METZ, -_Thursday, 8.45 p.m._ - -MY DEAR, GOOD TOTO, - -I should have got back without adventure, had I not met an enormous and -horrific toad in the road, which sent me flying home, shrieking as if -the devil was at my heels. I was here by ten minutes past seven, began -my dinner at five minutes past eight, and am now sitting writing to you, -to thank you for all the bliss you lavish upon me. This day, drenched -with rain though it was, has been one of the most beautiful and happiest -of my whole life. If there had been rainbows in the sky, they would be -reflected in our hearts, linking our souls together in thought and -emotion. - -I thank you for drawing my attention to so many lovely things I should -never notice without your assistance and the touch of your dear white -hand upon my brow; but there is one beauty greater and nobler than all -the combined ones of heaven and earth, for the recognition of which I -require no help--and that is yourself, my best beloved, your personality -that I adore, your intellect that enchants and dazzles me. Would that I -possessed the pen of a poet, to describe all I think and feel! But, -alas, I am only a poor woman in love, and such a condition is not -conducive to brilliancy of expression! - -Good-night, my adored one; good-night, my darling. Sleep well. I send -you a thousand kisses. - -J. - - -METZ, -_Monday, 11.5 a.m., September 24th, 1835._ - -Great indeed was our misfortune yesterday! I agree with you in that, my -Victor, because I love you. For over a year I have suffered much; -oftener than not, without complaint. I always trusted that my love and -fidelity would engender in you feelings of esteem and confidence, but -now that hope is for ever at an end; for, far from diminishing, your -suspicion and contempt have grown to terrible dimensions. You love me, I -know, and I worship you with all the strength of my being. _You are the -only man I have ever loved, the only one to whom I have ever given this -assurance._ Yet I now implore you on my knees to let me go. I cannot -urge this too strongly. You see, my dear, I am so wretched, so -humiliated, and I suffer so acutely, that I shall have to leave you, -even against your will; so it would be kinder of you to give your -consent, that I may at least have the sad satisfaction, if I must -forsake you, of knowing that I have not disobeyed you. - -Farewell, my joy; farewell, my life; farewell, my soul! I leave you, -for the very sake of our love--I offer this sacrifice on behalf of us -both. Later, you will understand. But before bidding you a last -good-bye, I swear to you that, during the last year, I have not -committed one single action I need blush for, nor harboured one guilty -thought. I tell you this from the bottom of my heart. You may believe -it. - -I shall go to my child, for I am anxious about her since she has been at -Saumur. Perhaps I may bring her back with me. I think I was very wrong -to send her away. I mean to repair my fault if there is yet time. The -pretext of her health will be sufficient before the world. My heart -shall be dumb upon all that concerns you. I will keep everything to -myself. I must get work. If you can do anything to help me find some, it -will be good of you. I mention this for the first and last time, for, if -you were to forget me, you know very well that I should be the last to -venture to recall myself to you. - -Good-bye again, my friend; good-bye, for ever! I have been copying your -little book, hoping you would be generous enough to leave it with me. -Good-bye! good-bye! Do not suffer, do not weep, do not think, do not -accuse yourself! I love and forgive you. - -JULIETTE. - - -METZ, -_Saturday, 7.30 p.m. (October 1835)._ - -You were in a great hurry to leave me to-night, my best-beloved. If -consideration for me was your motive, it was high-handed and blundering -of you, for I never enjoyed myself more than this evening, and, until -the moment you left me so abruptly, I had never so savoured the -happiness of being with you in the highways and byways. - -I therefore returned home sadly and thoughtfully. I have begun my letter -to-night with diminished joy and confidence in the future, for your -hurry to leave me weighs upon me, and I cannot explain it satisfactorily -to myself. - -I came in at a quarter past six, suffering greatly from indigestion. The -maid told me some one had called for the dog--two gentlemen, who seemed -much attached to it. Poor brute, it was a wrong instinct that led it to -follow us. I have no doubt it is expiating its offence in hunger and -cold at this very moment. I am somehow unduly interested in the fate of -the poor thing. I feel something beyond ordinary pity for it; it makes -me think of the fate and future in store for a poor girl we both know. -She also follows step by step a master who will have no scruple in -casting her adrift when his duty to society proves as pressing and -sacred as that which called him away to-night. - -I am depressed, my dear friend, and unwell. The oppression on my chest -is increasing. I hope your sore throat will diminish in proportion to -what I am enduring. Providence is too just to allow such cumulation of -suffering. Good-night--sleep well and think of me if you can. As for -loving me, that is another question; one's emotions cannot grow to -order. I love you. - -J. - -_Sunday, 8 p.m., 1835._ - -My dear darling, I cannot describe to you the rapture with which I -listened to the two sublime poems you recited to me, one on the first -Revolution and the other on the two Napoleons. - -But where can your equal be found on earth!... My dear little Toto, do -not laugh at me. I feel so many things I cannot express, much less -write. I love and revere you, and when I reflect upon what you are, I -marvel! Since you left me, I have read again _Napoleon the Second_. I -shall never tire of it. It is going to bed with me now. - -You told me to wait for you till 9.30; after that hour I shall go to -bed. If you should happen to come later, I will open the door to you -myself, as you have forgotten the key. I want to do so, that I may not -lose one second of the happiness of having you with me. Sleep -well--good-night--do not suffer--do not work--sleep! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 8.30 p.m., 1835._ - -I am half afraid of taking too literally your request for a daily -letter. Tell me seriously how I am to interpret it, so that I may not -make myself ridiculous, by overwhelming you with letters you do not -want. Tell me the truth once for all, so that I may know where I am, and -may give myself up without restraint to the pleasure of telling you, and -writing to you, that I love you with all my heart, and that you alone -constitute my sole joy, my sole happiness, and my sole future. If you -can experience only one quarter of the bliss in reading, that I shall -feel in inditing my scribble, you shall receive some of my prose every -day, but in limited quantities, calculated not to wear out your -patience. - -And, in order to demonstrate my powers of self-restraint, I will limit -myself to six trillions of kisses for your beautiful mouth. Besides, -here you come! I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 8 p.m., December 2nd, 1835._ - -MY BELOVED, - -When one is ill and feverish, everything tastes bitter to the lips and -palate. I am in that position. I am abominably miserable, and all the -sweet words you lavish upon me seem tainted. But I have enough sense -left to realise that it is my condition that prevents me from relishing -the full meed of happiness you are able to give me in one moment. -Forgive me for suffering, and for not having the strength or generosity -to conceal it from you; it is only because I suffer too much, and love -you too much, which is the same thing. - -I promise to be very cheerful to-night, and to disguise my feelings. I -have read everything concerning you in the papers, and I cannot help -suspecting that a passage about you and your work has been purposely cut -out. If this is so, you had much better tell me, for I am quite equal to -bearing the truth, and even to hearing lies; so I beg you to tell me -what was in that newspaper, and thus spare me the trouble of procuring -another copy. You must indeed be happy and proud on behalf of the person -to whom you are supposed to have dedicated your sublime poem. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO.] - -The article by Monsieur F. Dugu seems singularly well-informed about -your restoration to the _domestic hearth_. I am apparently not the only -one who notices that for the last year you have been changing your -habits and feelings, though I am probably the only one who will die of -grief in consequence--but what matter, so long as the domestic hearth -remains _cheerful_ and the _family_, _happy_. - -I hope you will do your best to come and see me to-morrow, during the -intervals of the performance unless the salutations you have to make, -and the compliments and admiration you must acknowledge should detain -you against your will; in which case I hope I may be brave enough not to -worry about such a trifle, and reasonable enough not to let the -magnitude of my love depend upon so slight a pleasure. - -You see, my dear angel, I bow to the arguments you impress on me. I am -no longer sad, neither do I suffer. I love you; that is the truest word -of all. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 8.45 p.m., December 15th, 1835._ - -Of course, my darling, you did right to come back, whatever your reason -might be; but the pleasure of your visit was quite spoilt by your -inquiry as to how I spend my time, when it is self-evident that my -conduct is irreproachable. - -It may surprise you that I should have borne the inquisition you -habitually subject me to, with less equanimity to-day than usual. I own, -my poor angel, that I do not know why it should be so. Perhaps I am like -the cripple, who feels pain in the leg which has been cut off, long -after he has lost it. I often suffer over my past life, though the -present is so widely different. I suffer, not from variations of -temperature, but from the variations of your love, which seems to grow -daily colder and more gloomy. If I am mistaken, forgive and pity me; but -if, as I fear, I make no error, tell me so frankly, and I shall be -grateful for your sincerity. You see, my poor friend, I cannot believe -that your jealousy is other than an insulting mistrust of us both. I -have watched you carefully for the last six months, and I can see quite -well that, although your love is gradually waning, your supervision -becomes ever more active and more fidgety. If I were absolutely sure of -what I suspect, I should not say this to you--I should go away at once, -and you would never hear of me again; but if by chance I were wrong, and -you still care for me, such a course would entail frightful sorrow upon -us both. Therefore I remain, preferring to incur your hatred and -contempt, rather than run the risk of grieving you. - -There, my poor angel, is the attitude of mind and heart in which you -found me this evening; it will explain why I received your question so -badly, although I was grateful for your presence. You see, my head and -heart are weary. If you are not careful, some calamity, resulting from -this condition, will overtake and crush you, at a moment when neither -you nor I will be able to prevent it. I give you this warning in all -sincerity, but with the intimate conviction that it will not affect you. -As long as you feel I belong to you wholly and entirely, you are as -indifferent to my sufferings as to my happiness. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 8.30, February 3rd, 1836._ - -If I have grieved you, my beloved, I beg you to forgive me, for I know -your position is awkward and demands much consideration, especially from -me. Besides, why should I complain of my mode of life more to-day, than -yesterday? I accept my position without regret; therefore there is no -reason for questioning an arrangement which only you can alter. - -I cannot help noticing that your love is not what it was. I may say I am -sure of it, if I may judge by the impatient words you occasionally -utter, half against your will, and by other signs it would take too long -to commit to paper. I certainly possess a _devoted_ Victor, but no -longer the _lover_ Victor of former days. If it is as I fear, it becomes -your duty to leave me at once; for I have never wished to live with you -otherwise than as an adored mistress--certainly not as a woman dependent -upon a man whose passion is spent. I want no pension. I demand my place -in your heart, apart from any feeling of duty or gratitude. That is what -I desire, as earnestly as I long to be a faithful woman, submissive to -your every whim, whether just or unjust. - -If I have hurt your feelings, my dearly beloved, I plead for pardon from -the bottom of my heart. If you have to acknowledge a decrease in your -love, be brave enough to do so frankly, and do not leave to me the -frightful task of guessing it; but if you care for me as much as ever, -say it again and again, for I doubt it, alas, and, in love, doubt is -more painful a thousand times than the most heartbreaking certainty. -Farewell, I worship you. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 8.15 p.m., February 17th, 1836._ - -You must think me either very cruel or very blind, my beloved. I think, -perhaps, it would be best for you to accept the latter hypothesis. I -love you, which means that I am jealous; but, as my jealousy is in -proportion to my love, my doubts and frenzy are more vivid, more bitter, -than those of ordinary women, who are only capable of an ordinary -affection. Very well--I am cruel! So be it! I detest every woman upon -whom your glances rest. I feel capable of hating all women, young or -old, plain or handsome, if I suspect that they have dared raise their -eyes to your splendid and noble features. I am jealous of the very -pavement upon which you tread, and the air you breathe. The stars and -sun alone are beyond my jealousy, because their radiance can be eclipsed -by one single flash from your eyes. - -I love you as the lioness loves her mate. I love you as a passionate -woman, ready to yield up her life at your slightest gesture. I love you -with the soul and intelligence God has lent His creatures to enable them -to appreciate exceptional men like yourself. That is why, my glorious -Victor, at one and the same moment, I can rage, weep, crawl, or stand -erect; I bow my head and venerate you! - -There are days when one can fix one's gaze upon the sun itself without -being blinded: thus it is with me now. I see you, I am dazzled, -entranced, and I grasp your beauty in all its splendour. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8 p.m., August 15th, 1836._ - -Since you leave me here all by myself, my beloved, I shall think only of -you, and in proof of this, I will scribble all over this virgin sheet -of white paper. It is barbarous of you to let me grow fatter than I -already am, by leaving me to dawdle at my fireside, instead of taking me -out to walk and get thin. - -I am in love with you, but you do not care a bit. I am very sad not to -have you with me, doubly so, when I think that it is on account of a -play in which I am to have no part, after all the time I have waited and -endured. When I reflect seriously upon this, my despair makes me long to -fly to the uttermost ends of the world. It is so necessary that I should -think of my future. I have wasted so much time waiting, that it almost -spells ruin to me that you should produce a piece in which I may not -play. You see, my dearest, I am not as generous as you thought. I am -afraid I can no longer disguise from you the injury it does me to be -three years out of the theatrical world, while you are bringing out -plays. Forgive me, but I have a horror of poverty, and would do anything -in reason to evade it. I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 8.30 p.m., March 11th, 1836._ - -DEAR LITTLE SOUL, - -You are quite happy, I hope, now that you possess the keys of Paradise. -I had a few more difficulties to encounter after you went away, but they -were of no consequence. Now that our little palace is nearly finished, -my soul, I hope we shall celebrate the event in the usual way; but I -must first rest a little, and nurse myself up, for I am really quite -worn out with the dirt and litter. I am afraid to look at you or touch -you in your beauty and purity and charm, while I am so ugly and untidy -and exhausted that I hardly know myself as your Juju. But it will not -last. My foulness will fall from me, and reveal me dressed, as in the -fairy-tale, in garments of blue, bordered with golden stars, and a -prince will marry me after tasting of my cooking. Splendid! But -meanwhile you must graciously permit me to go on loving you, stains and -all! Shut your eyes to the common lamp that guards the flame. If you -will wait, you shall see that when we reach the heaven above us, I shall -be as resplendent as yourself. Meanwhile, I drop a kiss upon your shoes, -even if it entails your having them blacked again. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 7.45 p.m., March 23rd, 1836._ - -No doubt, dear angel, I ought to disguise in your presence the sadness -that overwhelms me when I have to wait too long for you; but the late -hour at which you generally come, makes it difficult for me to forget -the weary suspense I have already been through, and am to endure again -shortly. I love you, my dear--indeed, I love you too much. We often say -this lightly, but I assure you that this time I state it in full gravity -and knowledge, for I feel it to the very marrow of my bones. I love you. -I am jealous. I hate being poor and devoid of talent, for I fear that -these deficiencies will cost me your love. Still, I am conscious of -something within me, greater than either wealth or intellect; but is it -powerful enough to rivet you to me for ever? I ask myself this question -night and day, and you are not at hand to soothe my unrest; hence the -sadness that wounds you, the jealousy that amazes you, the mental -torment you are incapable of understanding. - -But I love you all the same, and am happy in the midst of my pain. I -smile through my tears, for I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 a.m., March 26th, 1836._ - -Good-morning, my little darling Toto. - -I am up at cock-crow, though very tired; but I want to be ready to -witness your new triumph--for, beloved Toto of mine, you are the _great_ -Toto, the greatest man on earth. - -How I love you, my Victor! I am jealous. Even your success makes me -uneasy with the dread that, amongst so much adulation, you may overlook -the humble homage of your poor Juju. I fear that these universal -acclamations may drown my lowly cry of--_I love you!_ This apprehension -becomes an obsession on such a day as this, when everything is at your -feet, caresses, adoration, frenzy. Ah, why are you not insignificant and -unknown like myself! I should then have no need to fear that the torch -of my love will be eclipsed by that immense illumination. - -Try, beloved, to keep a little place in your heart for the love and -admiration of your poor mistress, who has loved you from the day she -first set eyes upon you, and who will worship you as long as the breath -remains in her body. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 6.15 p.m., March 26th, 1836._ - -Let me tell you once again that I love you, my Victor. Presently, -thousands of voices will be raised in a chorus of _praise_. I alone -say: I _love_ you. You are my joy, the light of my eyes, the treasure of -my life, you are _YOU_. This evening, my adored one, whatever you say or -do, I must be jealous and wretched. Be merciful to me; do not let me -suffer too cruelly. If you think of me when you are absent, I shall be -conscious of it--if you love me, I shall feel it upon my heart like -beneficent balm upon a raw wound. - -Farewell, dear soul; _it is impossible to wish an increase of beauty to -the man, or more glory to the genius; so, if you are happy, so am I_. -Farewell, then, dearest; I cannot refrain from sending a word of love to -the lover, before going to applaud the poet. The heart must have its due -share. - -Good-bye till later. For ever, for life and until death, love, nothing -but love! - -J. - - -Sunday, 7.45 p.m., March 27th, 1836. - -I hardly dare speak to you to-night of love. I feel humiliated by my -devotion, for all those women seem to be rivals, preferred before me. I -suffer, but I do not hold you responsible. I feel worse even than usual -this evening. I did not venture to ask what you had written to Madame -Dorval, for I was afraid to discover some fresh reason for bitterness -and jealousy; so I remained silent. - -My dear treasure, you are very lucky not to be jealous: you have no -competition to fear with any other celebrity, for there is none besides -yourself, and _you_ know that I love you with my whole heart, whereas -all _I_ can be sure of is, that I love you far too much to hope to be -loved in proportion. In addition, I feel I shall never be capable of -raising the heavy stone under which my intellect slumbers. - -Forgive me, I am sad. I am worse than sad--I am ashamed, because I am -jealous. I am an idiot, and consequently, I am in love! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8.30 p.m., April 14th, 1836._ - -I love you, my dear Victor, and you make me very unhappy when you seem -to doubt it. It is still harder for me when you put your want of -confidence into words, for I can only attribute it to the sacrifices you -constantly make for me, and which probably cause you to think that an -ignoble motive constrains me to remain under your protection. In -addition to thus wounding me in the most sensitive part of my love, you -exasperate me to a point I cannot describe, because it is true that I -have not the wherewithal to live independently of you and your -influence. Therefore, my poor angel, when you show your suspicions of my -sincerity, I read into them more than jealousy and ill-will: I imagine a -reproach against my dependent position. I feel an overwhelming need to -prove to you, by any means, that you are mistaken in the woman and her -love. _Remember your burnt letters!_ You know what a doubt on your part -led me to do on one occasion. Well, angel, I tell you honestly that when -you question, not only my fidelity, but also my love, I long to fly to -the other side of the world, there to exist as best I can, and never -pronounce your name again for the rest of my life. This will be the last -proof of love I can give you, and at least you will not be able to -accuse me, then, of self-interest and self-love. You hurt me terribly -to-night; you often do, and generally when I am most tender and -demonstrative towards you. - -Yet I love you. - -J. - - -_Tuesday, 8 p.m., April 19th, 1836._ - -Beloved, I am perfectly certain you will not come to fetch me to see -_Lucrce_, and I am already resigned. There is only one thing I shall -never submit to, and that is, the loss of your love. I know you are -devoted, that you lavish friendship upon me; but I feel that you have no -more love to give me, and I cannot bear it. During the four months I -have been alone, ill for the most part, I never knew whether the time -would come when you would be impelled to say to me: _Take courage, for I -love you_. I would have given life to find those words in your -handwriting at my bedside in the morning, or on my pillow at night. I -waited in vain, they never came; my sorrow grew, and now I am certain -that you have ceased to care for me. - -I know what you will say, Victor--you will tell me that you are hard at -work, that you do everything for me, and do not let me want for -anything. To that I reply that I have been just as busy or busier than -you, yet have always found time to show you the outward signs of my -inward love. I may also tell you that, without your love, I _do_ want -for _everything_, and that my life is utterly wretched without it. -Lastly, I declare to you that if you continue to be so _reasonably_ kind -and attentive, I will release you from your self-imposed burden, at some -moment when you least expect it, and for evermore. I must have true -love or nothing. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 7.45 p.m., May 2nd, 1836._ - -MY DEAR LITTLE BELOVED, - -I am sorry to find that you are not as convinced as I am, of the -propriety of giving me your portrait. - -I confess I feel the greatest disappointment when I realise, from your -daily evasion of my request, that I shall probably never become the -possessor of the picture which is so like you, nor even, perhaps, of a -copy of the original. I am sad and dejected. I think you do not care -enough for me, a poor disinherited creature, to do me the favour you -have already bestowed upon another, who already has her full meed of the -gifts of life. I am therefore greatly disappointed. I had counted upon -having the portrait, and had anticipated much happiness from its -possession. The contemplation of it would have so greatly contributed to -my courage and resignation, that it is very grievous to have to renounce -it thus suddenly, without any compensation. - -If I wanted to speak of other things now, I could not; my heart is -heavy, my eyes overflow with tears. I can only find bitter words for the -expression of my wounded love. - -I love you more to-day than I have ever done before, yet I am not happy. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 7.45 a.m., May 20th, 1836._ - -GOOD MORNING, MY DEAR LITTLE TOTO. - -You failed me again last night, so I shall never count upon you again. I -loved you with all my strength, and thought of you even in my sleep. -This morning I love you with my whole soul, and heartily long for you, -but I know you will not come, so I am cross and sad. - -How fine the weather is, my Toto, and how happy we could be in the fresh -air, on the high road, in a nice little carriage, with a month of -happiness in prospect: it would be Paradise, but ... but ... I dare not -set my heart upon it, for I should go crazy with grief if the treat were -withheld. At all events, I am ready to start; my foot is well again, and -we can set off to-night, or to-morrow morning, at whatever time suits -you. I am quite ready, let us, therefore, seize our chance of the fine -weather. - -My adored one, I am dying to make this expedition.... Do try to get free -at the earliest moment possible. I shall be so happy. I still love you, -ever so much. I need you terribly. My heart is more than ready for the -happiness you will give me during the whole time we shall be together. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 12.45 p.m., July 21st, 1836._ - -Once more I am reduced to writing all that is in my heart, my adored -one. It is but a slender satisfaction after the bliss we have been -enjoying. Nevertheless, we must take life as we find it, and it would be -ungracious of me to complain. A month like the one we have just spent -would compensate for a whole life-time of misfortune and worry. Poor -angel, since you left me I feel lost and alone in the world. You cannot -imagine the utter void, surrounded as you are at this moment by the -affection of charming children and devoted friends, while I am alone -with my love--that is to say alone in space--for my love has no limits. -I seek what consolation I can, by speaking to you, and writing to you. -Your handkerchief, breathing of you, lies by my side, with your adored -name embroidered in the corner. I caress and talk to it, and we -understand each other perfectly. For every kiss I press upon it, it -exhales your sweet aroma; it is as if I scented your very soul. Then I -weep, as one does in a beautiful dream from which one fears to awake. -Heavens, how I love you! You are my life, my joy! I adore you! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 2.15 p.m., September 2nd, 1836._ - -My poor, beloved angel. The nearer the moment approaches, the more I -dread the inevitable parting which must follow the few days of happiness -you have just given me. I long for delay, but I know very well that, -however Providence may interpose in my favour, the day must come when -you will have to go to St. Prix. Lucky for me if it is not to-day. But, -putting aside all considerations of love and Juju, it would really not -be prudent for you to go to the country in this cold, foggy weather; -even this morning, in the warmth and repose of home, you felt a warning -twinge of rheumatism, which prescribes prudence on your part. I fear -your natural desire to kiss Toto on his donkey, and watch the other -little rogues at their holiday occupations, may draw you, in spite of -rain, wind, and the good counsel of your old Juju, to St. Prix. At any -rate, if you do this foolish thing, try to avoid chills, to think of me, -and to come back to my care and caresses as quickly as possible. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 6 p.m., 29th, 1836._ - -You torment me unjustly, as usual, my darling beloved. Yet you ought to -begin to know me, and not suspect my every action, down to the drinking -of a cup of coffee. The awkwardness of my position, the absolute -solitude in which I am compelled to live, and the many insults I have to -tolerate daily from you, exasperate me so, that I feel I would rather go -out of your life, than continue to exist like a woman condemned and -accursed. - -It is your fault that I am so unhappy. Nobody else will ever love you so -well, or be so entirely devoted to you. But one is not bound to put up -with impossibilities, and I cannot live longer under a yoke which you -make more crushing every day. What am I to do, beloved? Run away from -you? I have scarcely enough money for my quiet Paris _routine_. Remain -here? If you have not the courage to abstain from visiting me, I -certainly shall never have enough to prevent you from coming. - -The wound in my heart is raw and bleeding, thanks to the care you take -to keep it in that condition. The slightest additional twinge becomes -unbearable torture. I do not know what moral operation I would not -consent to, to be cured of it. - -For the last three years you have really given me too much pain. I -implore you, from the bottom of my heart, to be less offensive with me, -or else to leave me for good and all. You may guess from this what I am -enduring. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 2 p.m., January 1st, 1837._ - -Your darling, adorable letter has reached me. I have devoured it with -caresses. Oh, how I love you! I have just sent my child out of the room, -so that I might read it on my knees in front of your picture. These -little pranks may seem foolish, but they contain a deeper, more sacred -significance, like the devotion that inspires them. - -When you come, you will find me joyous and radiant, as I was on that -glorious day when you first revealed your love. My beloved, my heart, I -am very happy. I am in heaven, for you love me, my Toto ... your dear -letter has said it. Your eyes, your mouth, your soul, will tell me so -still better, presently. Yes, indeed I am happy, I am surfeited. There -is nothing left for me to desire or require--I have your love, a love -which God Himself might envy were He a _woman_. - -Thank you, adored one, thank you from my heart and soul. I am as good as -gold, believe me. - -JUJU. - - -_Tuesday, 7.30 p.m., February 21st, 1837._ - -Do not grieve, my precious, do not lament. I will not attempt -consolation, for you have better and more efficacious resources within -your own self; but I share your affliction. Whatever saddens you -saddens me: where you love, I love; when you mourn, I mourn. If I -conjure you not to give way to your grief, it is not because I hesitate -to bear my portion of it, but because I believe that your poor brother -himself would not now desire a return to this life.[65] I look upon his -death more as a blessing than a misfortune. Poor brother! - -I love you, my adored Victor. In moments such as these, when sorrow -brings you nearer to my level, I feel that my affection for you is -absolutely true and purified from all dross. Try to come early this -evening. I will lavish caresses upon you silently, with my eyes and my -innermost self, without worrying you. You shall rest by my fireside, and -lean your dear head upon my shoulder, and read, and I shall be glad. - -I am jealous of that woman who has dared to _steal_ your verses; such -things are not _lost_. It was a two-fold wickedness on her part, for she -caused _you_ the trouble of rewriting them, and _me_ the torment of -jealousy. I will not have you see her again, ever! Do you hear? - -Oh, I love you, I love you far too much. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 7.15 p.m., April 2nd, 1837._ - -[Illustration: CARICATURE OF MLLE. GEORGE, BY VICTOR HUGO. - -Victor Hugo Museum.] - -[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF VICTOR HUGO BY HIMSELF.] - -I have decided to get up, after all, thanks to the laundry-man; but for -him, I should have remained in bed, nursing my depression. I am sad -beyond everything, yet I cannot tell why--you are kind and affectionate, -and I love you with my whole soul; but that does not seem enough. -Esteem, the keystone of happiness, is lacking. I have worn myself out in -the endeavour to gain it during the last four years, yet it cometh not, -nor ever will come, now. I must turn my efforts in another direction. I -must try to break with you, tactfully, as you say, by quitting Paris, -and perhaps France. Will that be sufficient to stop the tongue of -scandal? I wish to leave you before you abandon me, because I do not -admit your right to inflict such a fearful blow upon me. There are -people, capable of committing suicide, who yet recoil at the thought of -being murdered--I am one. I can and will kill myself, but I shrink from -the injury you might possibly inflict upon me before long. My courage -does not outstrip your cruelty. I love you too much for happiness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 10.15 a.m., May 2nd, 1837._ - -Good morning, my well-beloved. Did you have a good night? You looked -overstrained and tired yesterday, and indeed there was enough to make -you so, you poor dear. I do not know how you can put up with it all. -Forgive me for adding to your burthen the exactions of a woman who -loves, and fears to recognise in lassitude an evidence of coldness. -Forgive me; if I did not occasionally doubt your love I should torment -you less, and would show more consideration for your occupations and -repose. - -You hurt me very much last night by speaking as you did, yet I wanted to -know your true opinion of me. I have long been tormented by a mournful -curiosity on that point. Last night you satisfied it in full. I know -now that you pity without despising me. I accept your compassion, for I -need it, and ought to have it; but I should indignantly repudiate a -contempt I do not deserve. My past history is sad, but not disgraceful. -My life until I met you was the melancholy outcome of a poor girl's -first fault; but at least it was never soiled by those hideous vices -that deface the soul still more than the body. Even at the worst moments -of my trouble, I cherished within me an inner sanctuary, whither I could -betake myself, as to some hallowed spot. Since then, that sanctuary has -been open to you only, and you can testify whether you have found it -worthy of you; you know whether, since you have occupied its throne and -altar, I have ever failed, one single day or minute, to prostrate myself -on my knees before you in adoration, or have ever turned my gaze or my -soul away from you. This proves, my beloved, that my former backsliding -was only superficial, not inherently vicious; that my wound was -accidental, not a loathsome, devouring canker; that I love you now, and -am thereby made whole. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 10.45 a.m., May 2nd, 1837._ - -I am following up my letter immediately with another, because I am -alone, and the moment is propitious for me to open my heart to you from -the very bottom. Racket and pleasure are a hindrance to meditation, and -at this moment I am rapt in contemplation of you and your beloved image. -I see you as you are, that is to say, a God-made man to redeem and -rescue me from the infamous life to which I had so long been enslaved. -What Christ did for the world you have done for me: like Him, you saved -my soul at the expense of your repose and life. May you be as blessed -for this generous action as you are adored by me for it. I should have -loved you, devil or angel, bad or good, selfish or devoted, cruel or -generous--I must have loved you, for at the mere sight of you my whole -being cries out: _I love you!_ Would that I might proclaim it on my -knees, with hands clasped and heart on lips: _I love you! I love you!_ -The talk we had last night kept me from sleeping, but I do not complain; -there are moments when sleep is a misfortune. I needed to rehearse one -by one all your words, to collect carefully those which must remain for -ever enshrined in my bosom as treasures of consolation and love; the -less generous ones you uttered, I have consumed in the flame of my soul; -nothing remains of them but ashes, dead as the ashes of my past. - -Do not turn away in disgust from the scratches I have sustained in -falling from my pedestal, as you might from hideous and incurable -wounds. I repeat again, my beloved, because it is the truth: misfortune -there has been in my life, but neither debauchery nor moral turpitude. -Henceforth there can be nothing but a sacred, pure love for you. I am -worthy of pardon and affection. Love me; I crave it of you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 11.15 a.m., May 11th, 1837._ - -Good morning, my dear little man; I have bad weather to announce: rain, -snow, hail, wind, and, in addition, an abominable cold in my head which -does not help to resign me to a day already filled with clouds. I love -you--do you know that? and I admire you for your beautiful soul. It is -splendid of you, my great Toto, to have raised your voice so powerfully -in defence of the poor, dead King.[66] You alone had the right, for you -only are above suspicion; you only are influential enough to compel the -impious, pitiless world to listen to your indulgent and religious voice. -If it were possible for me to love you more, I should do so for this; -but from the first day I saw you I have given my whole heart and -thoughts and soul unreservedly into your keeping. - -How I love you, my adored Victor, how I love you! In that short and -much-misused word is contained all my soul, all the bloom of a devotion -that has opened out under the sun of your gaze. Good-bye, my own. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 8.30 p.m., June 2nd, 1837._ - -MY LITTLE MAN, - -You must make up your mind to take my love or leave it. Compare my life -with yours, and see whether I do not deserve that you should pity and -love me with all your might. I am all alone, I have neither family nor -fame, nor the thousand and one distractions that surround you. As I say, -I am alone, always alone; it even seems probable that I shall not see -you to-night, while you will be spending your evening in feasting, -talking, and visiting your uncle, whom may the devil fly away with. -Everybody can get you except me; the exception is flattering and well -chosen. I am so unhappy that I am going to bed and shall probably cry my -eyes out--I am more inclined for that than for laughing. If you succeed -in cheering me up to-night, I shall know you for a great man, and a -still greater sorcerer; but you will not attempt it. I may be as sad and -miserable as I like, and I am certain you will never interfere. - -Good-night, Toto; I am going to bed. Good-night, be happy and gay and -content; your poor Juju will be unhappy enough for both. I love you, -Toto. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 1.30 p.m., June 10th._ - -I love you before all things, and after all things. I love you, love -you, love you! I have just written to Mother Pierceau that I shall send -Suzanne to her to-morrow. I forgot to ask you exactly how much money you -brought me yesterday, and also for cash, for yesterday's expenses. I -will do so to-night. I try hard to keep my accounts accurately, yet I am -always in a muddle at the end of the month, and always either above or -below what I ought to have. I do my best, but nothing seems to bring my -sums out right. - -I think there is going to be a big storm. The sky is lowering like -yesterday, and the weather still more oppressive. Try not to get wet, -and come and fetch your umbrella before it begins to pour. - -What a delightful afternoon we spent yesterday! I wish we could have it -over again, even if we had to be soaked to the skin. I shall never -forget the Bassin du Titan.[67] The pretty turtledove that came to -slake its thirst in it seemed to recognise us, and wait for its drink, -until you scattered drops of poetry into the mossy, flowery grooves, -surrounding its edges. - -Heavens! what precious pearls you squandered yesterday in that -magnificent garden, at the feet of those peerless goddesses, which seem -to come to life when your glance rests upon them--what flowers upon -those lawns, peopled with joyous children! How all those gods and -goddesses, heroes, kings, queens, women, nymphs, and children, must have -quarrelled over the treasure you lavished upon them! I was sorry to go -away. I should have liked to go back in the moonlight and gather up all -those jewels upon which you set so little store. Oh, I must return there -very soon, and we will at the same time revisit our Metz, where we have -enjoyed so much bliss. That journey will bring us happiness, and I long -to make it. I love you, my great Toto. Forgive this scribble; it looks -absurd now, and indeed it must needs be so, for I was inebriated with -love when I wrote it. My thoughts stagger and fall upon the paper, -because they have drunk too deeply of my soul, and know not where they -are. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 3.45 p.m., July 27th, 1837._ - -I must contribute my scribble in acknowledgment for the delightful lines -you have just written in my little book.[68] My voice will sound like -the cackle of a hen after the song of a nightingale; but that is the law -of nature, so I do not see why I should be silent, because I have heard -you. It was rash of you, my dear little man, to put down the date you -suppose was that of my birth; but, as I am too honest to contradict you, -I accept it and affirm that, since those days when you were a little boy -studying _Quintus Curtius_, you have developed, and far outstripped all -those you revered and admired when you were an urchin of seven--while I -have remained the poor, uncultured girl you know. It is pretty certain -that education could have added but little to my barren nature; the -weeds of the sea-shore do not gain much from cultivation. On that point, -thank Heaven, I have nothing to complain of. No one worried much about -me until you appeared upon the scene; but you came, my great and sublime -poet, and you did not disdain to cull the little scentless flower -prinking itself at your feet, to attract the sunshine of your glance. I -bless you for your goodness. I know that a father and mother look down -upon you from the realms above, and love you for the happiness you have -given to the poor little daughter they left solitary on earth. I weep as -I write, for it is the first time I have really looked into my innocent -past, and my loving heart. I bless you, my generous man, on earth, as -you will be blest in heaven. May all those dear to you participate in -this benediction, and in the joys and riches of this world and the next! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 9 a.m., September 21st, 1837._ - -GOOD MORNING, MY BELOVED. - -The anniversary of our return to Paris has been sadder still than the -day itself, since you have not been with me at all, either last night -or this morning. I am upset in consequence. I have not yet taken off my -nightcap. I am cross. Shall you be at Auteuil all day? What a -disappointment for poor Juju, not to speak of Claire, who has to take -her chance of my temper when I am cross, and that idiot Madame Gurard, -who has put me to the expense of a stamp merely to say that she thinks -she is getting fat, and that she wishes you good morning. How thrilling! - -I love you, dearest Toto; I love you too much, for I am miserable when -you are away. I wish I could care comfortably, like you, for instance, -who feel neither better nor worse, whether I am near or far. You are -always the same; love never makes you miss the point of a joke, or a -hearty laugh, nor fail to notice a grey cloud, the Great Bear, a frog, a -sunset, the earth, water, gale, or zephyr. You see everything, enjoy -everything, without a thought for poor old Juju, who is being bored to -desperation in her solitary corner. Which of us two is the best lover, -eh? Answer that it is I, Juju, and you will be speaking the truth. Yes, -I love you. Try not to stay away from me all day. Love me for being sad -in your absence. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 6.30 p.m., September 23rd, 1837._ - -You are making yourself more and more of a rarity, my beautiful star, so -that I become chilled, and gloomy as an antique, moss-grown statue, -abandoned in the wilds of some deserted garden. I am not angry with you, -but I do wish you were less busy and more lover-like. You have quickly -resumed your fine Paris appearance, my beloved little man, whilst I -still cling to my travelling disguise. You ought surely to have waited -for me to take the initiative, if only for the sake of manners. Whom are -you so anxious to please, my bright boy? Who is the favoured one you -aspire to put in my place? In any case, I warn you that I shall not be -sly like Granier,[69] but that I shall fall upon your respective -carcases with frank blows of a cudgel, mind that! Now you may go in -search of your charmer, if you are prepared to see your bones ground to -powder for my use. - -If you come early this evening I shall be so happy, so cheery, so -content and good, that you will never wish to leave me again; but, if -you delay, I shall be exactly the reverse, and you will have to coax and -love me with all your might to comfort me. - -You are letting your letter-box get over-full again. Toto, Toto, I shall -make a bonfire of its contents if you do not come quick and secure them. -Mind what you are about! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 12.45 p.m., November 22nd, 1837._ - -I really believe you do it on purpose; but you may be certain that I -shall pay you back in the same kind: indifference for indifference; -_donnant donnant_ is my motto. - -Now let us talk of other things. What do you think of the taking of -Constantine? I cannot believe the present Ministry will survive long as -at present constituted; Thiers and Barot may be called upon at any -moment to form a new cabinet. What is your opinion? The commercial -crisis is still making itself felt in the markets; oils of every -description have gone down; for instance, rape oil which was at 47 is -now only at 45. A recovery is looked for next year, but I have my doubts -about it, haven't you?[70] - - * * * * * - -Do you not agree with me that all this points to a revolution in the -near future, which will entail sinister results for Wailly's Government? -For my part, I view with consternation the removal of the Carlists from -St. Jean Pied de Port to Paimb[oe]uf, after a sojourn at St. Mnhould. -I am already sick of the recital of the horrors which disturb the -digestion and the tranquillity of the citizens, of whom you are the -chief ornament. Pray accept the expression of my distinguished -consideration. - -JULIETTE. - - -_December 5th, 5 p.m., 1837._ - -How kind you are, my Toto, to have come and relieved the suspense I was -in as to what had happened in Court.[71] Heavens, how well you spoke! I -was so moved and so convinced while I listened, that I forgot even to -admire you, yet I have never known you finer or more eloquent. Why must -the case be adjourned for a week? Is it to allow time for intrigues -against the incorruptible consciences of my lords the judges? I should -have given worlds for the verdict to have been delivered to-day; first -because it would relieve you of an anxiety as annoying as it is -fatiguing, secondly because I myself crave repose, and since this devil -of a lawsuit has come on the scene I cannot sleep at night, and lastly -because I shall then see you oftener, or at least so I hope. - -While I was waiting for you just now I copied a few passages from the -letters of Mdlle. de Lespinasse about the C. D.[72] and the S.[73] of -her period. Her opinions then, fit our own times absolutely: the same -absurdities, the same platitudes, and the same petty triumphs! It would -be pitiable were it not so grotesque. Nothing seems to have altered in -the last sixty years; there are the identical _bourgeois_ in the -identical Rue Saint Denis, the same men and women of the world--nothing -is missing. They have not grown old, they are still in good health. -Stupidity and bad taste are the best agents for the maintenance of -society in all its pristine foolishness. Here am I drivelling on just as -if I knew what I was talking about. It would be a nice set-out if I -attempted to write! I might just as well present myself as a candidate -for the Senate. Please forgive me. Your lawsuit is the cause of my -chatter, but I will not transgress again. I love you far too much to go -out of my way to make a fool of myself. - -JULIETTE. - - - RECEIPTS FOR THE MONTH OF DECEMBER 1837 - - Dec. Frs. Sous. Liards. - - Cash in hand 4 0 3 - 1. Money earned by my Toto 51 4 0 - 4. Cash from my darling 5 10 0 - 6. Money earned by my dear one 44 0 0 - 9. Cash from my Toto's purse 10 0 0 - 12. " " " " " 5 0 0 - 13. " " " " " 7 0 0 - 14. Money earned by my darling 45 0 0 - 17. Cash from my adored one 10 2 0 - 18. " " " " " 4 2 0 - 19. Money earned by my beloved 60 0 0 - 22. Cash from my Toto 2 0 0 - 24. " " " " 10 0 0 - 26. " " " " 3 0 0 - 28. Money earned by my Toto 102 12 0 - 30. Money earned by my darling 100 9 0 - _Plus_ the money for - the earring and ring 2 0 0 - ------------------ - Total 466 19 3 - - EXPENDITURE FOR THE MONTH OF DECEMBER 1837 - - Frs. Sous. Liards. - Food and wine 99 2 3 - Coal 1 1 0 - Lighting 21 6 0 - Household expenses and postage 16 0 0 - Baths, illness 8 1 0-1/2 - General expenditure 29 8 0 - Incidental expenses and pocket-money 5 8 0-1/2 - Dress 41 5 0 - Incidental expenses and pocket-money 5 8 0-1/2 - Dress 41 5 0 - Washing 16 5 0 - Debts and pawnbroker 151 6 0-1/2 - Wages 20 13 0 - To the Lanvins 4 2 0-1/2 - ----------------------- - Total 413 19 5 - Cash in hand 53 0 0 - - ----------------------- - 466 19 5[74] - -To Toto: 9 luncheons. - -Dinners to 10 persons. - -In all, about 19. - - -_Sunday, 1.45 p.m., January 21st, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my dear one, good-morning, my big Toto. How did you manage -to fit into your bed? You must have curled yourself up into five or six -hundred curves. One grows at such a pace in the space of an evening like -last night[75] that you must have become gigantic by this morning, -though you were already greater than any one else in the world. I have -grown, too, for my love equals your beauty, equals the praises and -admiration lavished upon you; so, unless one is prepared to state, -against all logic, that the container is smaller than the contents, I -must have grown and even surpassed you--without vanity. Love exalts as -much as glory does, and I love you more than you are great. Yes my Toto, -yes my dear Victor, I dare affirm it because it is true. I love you more -than you are great. - -How did you spend the night, adored one? I hope you did not work, tired -out as you were, and in that horrible little icehouse. I cannot think -of that room without shivering from head to foot. I shall be very glad -when I hear that it is closed and warmed. Unfortunately that does not -promise to be soon, and meanwhile you suffer and freeze, and I torment -myself about you. - -I adore you, my beloved Toto. I would die for you if you would promise -always to think lovingly of me; even without that condition I adore you, -my Victor. - -JULIETTE. - -_Sunday, 5.45 p.m., January 21st, 1838._ - -Must it always be my lot to wait, dearly beloved? I thought I had given -proofs sufficient of courage and resignation all this time, to have -earned my reward now. Of course I know you must have had the whole of -Paris in your house to-day, but if you cared for me as I do for you, you -would leave all Paris, and the world itself, for me. What good is the -back door, if not to enable you to evade importunate people, and fly to -the poor love who awaits you with so much longing and affection? Why -carry _four keys_ in your pocket, like the gaoler in a comic opera, if -you do not make use of them on the proper occasion? I am very sad, my -Toto. I do not think you care for me any more. You are as splendidly -kind and generous as ever, but you are no longer the ardent lover of old -days. It is quite true although you will not admit it out of compassion -for me. I am very unhappy. Some day I shall do something desperate to -rid you of me, for I cannot bear to realise the coldness of your heart, -and at the same time to accept your generous self-sacrifice. - -You know I have always told you that I will accept nothing from you if -you do not love me! I love you so much that if I could inspire you with -my feelings, there would be nothing left for me to desire in this world. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, Noon, February 12th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my dear little man. How are you this morning? I am very -well, but I should be still better if I had seen you and breakfasted -with you.... I am arranging to go to _Hernani_ to-night. I hope there -will be no hitch, and that the promise of the bills will at last be -fulfilled. I am longing for the moment. It is such ages since I have -seen my _Hernani_, and it is such a beautiful creation! I wish it were -already night, and I were in my little box, with dear little Toto -sitting at the back, where I might reward him with eyes and lips for -every beautiful line. You are not jealous? Yes, I want you to be -jealous! I want you to be jealous, even of yourself, or else I shall not -believe that you love me. - -Good-morning, Toto. All this nonsense simply means that I dote on you -and think you beautiful and great and adorable. You did not come last -night--probably because there was to be a rehearsal this morning. Try -and behave properly at it, for I have Argus eyes and shall come down -upon you myself, like a thunderbolt, in the midst of your antics. -Meanwhile, take care of yourself; do not get cold feet or a headache -like mine; it would be a great nuisance. - -Dear soul, if you had the least regard for your health, you would have -your flannel underclothing made at once. I assure you you would find it -very comfortable. I am sorry now that I let you take the stuff away, for -if I had it still, I should force you to do all this. It is not that I -want to worry you, my adored one, for I know how many other important -things you have to think of, but this is one of the most pressing; that -is why I should like it done. I love you, my Toto, with all my strength, -and more yet. I press my lips in spirit upon your eyes and hair. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 12.15 p.m., March 7th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my dear little beloved. How are your eyes, my Toto? It -torments me to know that you are suffering so much, for however brave -and uncomplaining you may be, I can see quite well that you are in pain. - -If you knew how I love you, my dear one, you would understand my trouble -and grief when you suffer. I suppose you are going to the rehearsal this -morning. I wish the first performance[76] was to be this evening, for I -am trembling already. Generally, I only begin to shiver on the day -itself, but this time my terrors have set in twenty-four hours in -advance. I hope my fears will have been vain, like so often before, and -that your beautiful poetry will prove all-conquering as ever. To-morrow -my soul will animate the spectators. I shall inspire enthusiasm in the -discriminating, and strangle, by sheer force of love, the hatred and -envy of the scum who would dare criticise your magnificent _Marion_, for -whom I have so special a partiality. - -[Illustration: AUTOGRAPH AND DRAWING BY JULIETTE DROUET.] - -I express myself awkwardly, but I feel all this acutely. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 7.30 p.m., March 7th, 1838._ - -MY DARLING, - -I see you very seldom, but it is not your fault, I know. I look -constantly into my heart, whence you are never absent, and there I see -you growing daily nobler, greater, and dearer. So to-morrow is _the -great day_! Ardently as I have desired its advent, I now dread it more -than I can say. However, up till now I have always been very frightened, -and nothing has happened, so I hope it may be the same this time. -Besides, how could the disapproval of a few miserable wretches and -idiots affect the magnificent verses of _Marion_? It will only prompt -the sincere and intelligent portion of the audience to do you instant -and brilliant justice. I am no longer afraid. I am as brave and strong -as love itself. Put me where you like--I do not care--all places are -equally good to applaud from, just as all moments are suitable for -adoring you. Good-bye, my love. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 12.45 p.m., March 8th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, blessed one. I am quite upset. If your success to-night is -in proportion to my fright, you will have the most magnificent triumph -of your life. I hardly know what I am doing; I am shaking like a leaf, I -cannot grasp my pen. I must try to pull myself together for this -evening. It is absurd of me to be such a little craven; besides, what -harm can a _cabal_ do you? None! It can only enhance your greatness, if -such a thing be possible; so, I am ashamed of my cowardice. I am -horribly stupid to dread a thing which certainly will not happen, and if -it did, would not injure you. Now that is enough! I will not fear again, -and I will admire and applaud my _Marion_ in the very face of the cabal. -I will give them a hot time to-night! Bravo! bravo!! bravo!!! I feel as -if I were there already, and the happiest of women. - -My little darling man, are you not soon coming to me? I do so long for -you. I feel as if you had been very cold to me lately. In the old days, -a first performance did not prevent your coming to make love to me. -Heavens, what torture it is to have to doubt you at a moment when I am -so desperately in need of you! I love you! - -JULIETTE. - -_Friday, 1.45 p.m., March 9th, 1838._ - -You are adorable, my great Victor. I wish I could express myself as -earnestly as I feel, but that is impossible; I am tongue-tied. So the -great performance is over! What a fool I was to be frightened, and how -rightly I placed my confidence in that great noodle the public, which is -so slow and so hard to work up, but when once started, boils over so -satisfactorily. What a magnificent success, and how thoroughly -justified! What a beautiful piece, what lovely verses! and the -fascinating poet! Everything was understood, applauded, admired. It was -delightful. My soul was raised heavenward with the Play. Dear God, how -magnificent it was!!!!!!!!!!! I must be there again to-morrow, and every -night. Surely I have the right! - -I love you, my Toto, I adore you with all the strength of my soul. I -wish I could go out--it is such a fine day. I kiss your beloved hands. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 12.15 a.m., March 11th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my beloved one, good-morning, handsomest and greatest of -men. I cannot speak as well as some of the people who pay you such -beautiful and sincere homage, but I feel from the bottom of my soul that -I admire and love you more than any one in the world. All the same, I am -sad and discouraged. I can see that you place no reliance on my -intelligence, that my last years are flying by without earning what they -easily might: a position, and a provision for the future. I am not angry -with you. It is not your fault if you are prejudiced against me to the -point of allowing me, without regret, to waste the last few years of my -youth. Possibly my desire to create for myself an independent position, -and to remain ever at your side, has given birth to the delusion that I -possess a great talent which only requires scope. However that may be, I -am in despair, and I love you more than ever. You are good to look at, -my adored one, you are great in intellect, my Victor, and yet I dare -proffer my devotion, for it is as genuine as your beauty and as deep as -your genius. I adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 11.30 a.m., April 10th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my soul, my joy, my life. How are your adored eyes, my -Toto? I cannot refrain from asking, because it interests me to hear, -more than anything in the world. I am always thinking about them. I long -for the 15th of this month, for then I shall have the right to insist -upon your resting, and I shall certainly exercise it. My dear love, what -joy it will be for me to feel your dear head leaning against mine, to -kiss your beautiful eyes, and to make certain that you do not work. The -weather is lovely this morning. It carries my thoughts back to our dear -little annual trip, when we were so happy and so cosy together. We are -not to have that felicity this year, and really I do not know how I -shall endure it when the time comes at which we used to start. It will -be very hard and difficult, and I doubt whether my courage and reason -will suffice to enable me to bear the greatest sacrifice I have ever -made in my life. My dear one, it will be sad indeed; I wonder whether I -shall be equal to it. - -I love you, adore you, admire you, and again I love and adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 7.45 p.m., April 10th, 1838._ - -My love, I am writing to you with joy and worship in my heart. You were -so kind and tender and fascinating to me to-day that I seemed to feel -again the savour and rapture of the days of old. My Toto, my adored -one, fancy if your love were to flower again like some brilliant, -sweet-scented spring blossom! With what ecstasy and reverence I would -preserve it fresh and rosy in my breast. Poor beloved, your work has -done to our idyll what the winter does to the trees and flowers--the sap -has retired deep into the bottom of your heart, and often I have feared -it was quite dead; but now I see it was not: it was only lulled to sleep -and I shall possess my Toto once more, beautiful, blooming, and perfumed -as in those glorious days of our first love. - -I who am not a sensitive plant of the sun like you, have yet come better -through the trial, and if I bear no blossom, I have at least the -advantage of preserving my leaves ever green and alive; that is to say, -I have never ceased to love and adore you. Indeed that is true, my own, -I love you as much as the first day. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 11 a.m., April 22nd, 1838._ - -You see, darling, by the dimensions of my paper, that I am preparing to -go and applaud my _Marion_ this evening. I will not reproach you for not -having come this morning. In fact, in future I shall not allude to it -again, for nothing is more unsuitable or ridiculous than the -solicitations of a woman who vainly appeals for the favours of her -lover. Therefore, beloved, as I am to live with you as a sister with a -brother, you will approve of my refraining from reminding you in any way -of the time when we were husband and wife. - -It is still very cold, my maid says; although the sun is shining in at -my windows, it has left its warmth in the sky. It resembles the fine -phrases of a suitor who no longer loves; his words may be the same, his -expressions as tender, his language as impassioned, but love is lacking -and those words which scintillate as the sun upon my windows, fail to -warm the heart of the poor woman who had dreamt of love eternal. - -You will probably see Granier this morning.[77] I hope so, so that you -may not be worried any more about that business. I also hope Jourdain -will come to-morrow about the chimney. It is unbearable that one should -have to wait upon the whim of a workman for a job which might be -finished in a few minutes, and that would please you so much. I have -read with pleasure the verses that came to you in the newspaper from -Guadaloupe; they show that you are admired over there as much as here, -and that you have fewer enemies abroad than at the Acadmie Franaise. I -am furious with that little imp called Thiers, who although he is not a -quarter of a man as far as size goes, yet permits himself to cherish the -rancour of a giant. Miserable little wretch! If only I were not a woman, -I might castigate you as you deserve! - -And you, my Toto, so great and so wonderful, I adore you! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 10.15 a.m., August 2nd, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my little beloved. Do you still need a secretary? I am -quite ready. Come; it is so delightful to dip my pen into your glorious -poetry, and watch the shining and coruscating of those precious gems -which take the shape of your thoughts. Dd could not be more delighted -and dazzled than I am, if she were given the diamonds and jewels of the -crown of England to play with for an hour. Oh, if I could only have -spent the night with my Csar and his noble companions, I would have -followed him without fatigue wherever he wanted to go, even as far -as.... But you would not allow it, you jealous boy; you feared -comparison, and you were perfectly right, for I like well-dressed men. -Good-morning, my Toto. My left eye is very bad; it is swollen and -painful. If this continues I shall no longer be in the position of -regretting that I cannot lend you my eyes in exchange for your own. I -love you, I adore you. Do not be too long before coming to me. - -I am longing for you with all my might. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 9.45 p.m., August 15th, 1838._ - -My dear little man, I love you. You are the treasure of my heart. I wish -we were already in our carriage galloping, galloping far, and farther -still, so that it might take us ever so long to get back. - -Since you have hinted at the possibility of my playing in your beautiful -piece,[78] I am like a somnambulist who has been made to drink too much -champagne. I see everything magnified: I see glory, happiness, love, -adoration, in gigantic and impossible dimensions--impossible, because I -feel you can never love me as I love you, and that my talent, however -considerable, can never reach to the level of your sublime poetry. I do -not say this from modesty, but because I do not think there exists in -this world man or woman capable of interpreting the parts as you -conceived them in your master mind. - -I love you, my Toto, I adore you, my little man, you are my sun and my -life, my love and my soul. - -All that, and more. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 8 p.m., September._ - -Are you proposing to cut out all the dandies and bloods of the capital? -My congratulations to you. I was only waiting for some such sign to give -myself up to an orgy of wild and eccentric toilette. Heaven only knows -the extravagances I mean to commit in the way of shoes, silk stockings, -gowns, hats, light gloves, and bows for my hair! You will, I suppose, -retaliate with an assortment of skin-tight trousers, strings of orders, -and more or less absurd hair arrangements. Delightful indeed! There only -remains for one of us to live at the Barrire de l'toile and the other -at the Barrire du Trne, to dazzle the dwellers of the town and -suburbs, as well as strangers from abroad. Capital!!! - -My sore throat has come on again and you are not here to cure it. If you -think this pleasant you are quite wrong, and if I followed my own bent I -should deprive you of your functions as doctor-in-chief of the great -Juju. I am determined to forgive you only if you come to supper with me -presently. Seriously, I cannot understand why you keep away, seeing -that your Play is in rehearsal, that this is our holiday time, and that -I adore you. I am almost tempted to be a little jealous, only -unfortunately, when I mean to be only slightly jealous, I become very -seriously so; therefore I try as much as possible to spare myself that -discomfort. You would be sweet and kind, my Toto, if you would come and -eat my frugal dinner with me to-night and ... I am going to concentrate -my thoughts upon you, so as to magnetise you and bring you back in the -shortest possible time to your faithful old Juju who loves and adores -you. My first proceeding is to kiss your eyes, your mouth, and your dear -little feet. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 12 noon, October 30th, 1838._ - -My beloved little man, you are so good and sweet when you see me that it -is a pity you should see me so seldom, and that you should forget me as -soon as your back is turned. To punish you, I am not going to write you -two letters to-day; partly in consideration for your dear little eyes, -and partly because it would be unfair to reward indifference and -coldness in the same degree as affection and assiduity. Pray do not take -the above expression, "dear little eyes," in an ironical sense--I mean -it on the contrary as an endearing diminutive; your "dear little eyes" -signify to me my adored, beautiful eyes, the mirrors of my soul, the -stars of my heaven, everything that is most beautiful and fascinating, -gentlest, noblest, and highest. - -I love you, my Toto. I kiss your ripe red lips, your dazzling teeth, -your little hands, and your twinkling feet. I am writing only your -little daily bulletin, because your eyes are bad, and you have no time -to waste; neither do I wish to tire or bore you, but only to make you -love me a little bit. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8.30 p.m., November 22nd, 1838._ - -My little treasure of a man, you were sweet to select my hovel for a -resting-place from which to write your laudatory remarks upon Mlle. -Atala Beauchne,[79] commonly called Beaudouin. It gave me a chance to -admire your charming profile and kiss your beautiful shining locks. I -thank you for that happiness, and I consent to your inditing daily -effusions concerning that lady, if only you do so in my room and under -my eyes. - -As you promised to come back presently, the chances are that you will -not return. I have half a mind to undress, light my fire, and set to -work to bruise poppy-heads; for my provision is almost at an end, and -later on I may be busy at the theatre, if Joly[80] persists in his crazy -idea of giving us a whole week's rehearsals of a piece which is only to -be played four months hence. It is an inducement to use the time at my -disposal now, to prepare your little daily remedy. - -I love you, Victor, I love you, my darling Toto. - -JULIETTE. - -_Monday, 6 p.m., April 15th, 1839._ - -Why is it, my little beloved, that you always seem so jealous? You take -the bloom off all those scraps of happiness your dear presence would -otherwise give me, for nothing chills one's embraces so much as the -vexed, uneasy mien you usually wear. It would not even be so bad if you -did not accuse _me_ of that same constrained, annoyed look; but the more -suspicious you are, the more you think it is I who am cross, although -this is simply the effect of the glasses through which your jealousy -views me. Never mind, I love you and forgive you, and if only you will -come and take me out a little this evening and show me part of _Lucrce_ -I shall be happy and content. What a beautiful day! I would have given -days and even months for the chance of strolling by your side wherever -your rverie led you. Alas, it is I who am sad, and with excellent -reason! As for you, you old lunatic, what have you to complain of? You -are adored, and you are free to accept and make use of that sentiment as -much and as often as you desire; perhaps that is why you desire it so -seldom.... But let us talk of other things. Please love me a little, -while I give you my whole soul. - -JULIETTE. - -_Sunday, 6.30 p.m., October 27th, 1839._ - -Here I am at my scribbling again, my Toto. It is a sad pleasure, if any, -after the two months of love and intimacy which have just elapsed. Here -I sit again with my ink and paper, my faults of spelling, my stupidity -and my love. When we were travelling I did not need all this -paraphernalia to be happy. It was enough for me to worship you, and God -knows whether I did that! Here I do not love you less--on the -contrary--but I live far from you, I long for you, I worry about you, I -am unhappy--that is all. Still, I am not ungrateful or forgetful; I -fully appreciate that you have just given me nearly two months of bliss. -I still feel upon my lips the touch of your kisses, and upon my hand the -pressure of yours. But the felicity I have experienced only throws into -greater relief the void your absence leaves in my life. When you are no -longer by my side, I cease to exist, to think, to hope. I desire you and -I suffer. Therefore I dread as much as death itself the return to that -hideous Paris, where there is naught for lovers who love as we -love--neither sunshine, nor that confidence which is the sunshine of -love--nothing but rain, suspicion, jealousy, the three blackest, -saddest, iciest of the scourges which can afflict body and heart. Oh, I -am wretched, my Toto, in proportion to my love; it is true, my adored -one, and it will ever be thus, when you are not with me. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 10 a.m., November 1st, 1839._ - -Good-morning, my dear little beloved, my darling little man. You told me -so definitely yesterday that my handwriting was hideous, and my scrawl -nothing but a horrible maze in which you lose both patience and love, -that I hardly dare write to you to-day, and it would take very little to -make me cease our correspondence altogether. We must have an explanation -on this subject, for it is cruel of you to force me to make myself -ridiculous night and morning, simply because I love you and am the -saddest and loneliest of women. If my love must be drowned in my -ignorance and stupidity, at least do not force me to make the plunge -myself. There was a time when you would not have noticed the ugliness of -my writing; you would only have read my meaning and been happy and -grateful. Now you laugh, which is shabby and wicked of you. This seems -to be the fate of all the Quasimodo of this world, moral and physical; -they are jeered at: form is everything, spirit nothing. Even if I could -constrain my crabbed scrawl to say, "My soul is beautiful," you would -not be any the less amused. Therefore, my dear little man, pending the -moment when I can join in the laugh against myself, I think it would be -as well to suspend these daily lucubrations. Besides, the moment has -come when I must turn all my time and energies towards making my -position secure. Nothing in this world can turn me from my purpose, for -it is to me a question of life and death, and Heaven knows that in all -these seven years I have never failed to tell you so whenever there has -been an opportunity. I count upon you to help me, my beloved. I am -asking you for more than life--for the moral consummation of our -marriage of love. Let me go with you wherever my happiness is -threatened, let me be the wife of your mind and heart, if I cannot be -yours in law. If I express myself badly, do not scoff, but understand -that I have a right to put into words what you yourself have felt, and -that I insist upon defending my own against all those women who get at -you under pretext of serving you. I will have my turn, for I love you -and am jealous. - -J. - -_Friday, 6.30 p.m., November 1st, 1839._ - -You are good, my adored one, and I am a wretch; but I love you while you -only permit yourself to be loved; that is what makes you so tranquil and -me so bitter. My heart is weighed down by jealousy this evening and -nothing less than your adored presence will suffice to calm me, for I -carry hell and all the furies within my soul. I wish I could be sewn to -the lining of your coat to-night, for I feel I am about to encounter -some great danger that I can only defeat by not leaving your side. If my -fears are well-grounded, I shall probably fail in averting the doom that -threatens me, for you will not be able to stay with me all the evening. -The compliments and flattery you will receive will take you from me. I -cannot deny that I am unhappy and jealous, and would much rather be with -you at Fontainebleau, at the Htel de France, than in Box C. of the -Thtre Franais, even when _Marion de Lorme_ is being played. Kiss me, -my little man; you are very sweet in your new greatcoat, but you had not -told me you had been to your tailor. I shall keep up with you by sending -for my dressmaker. I do not mean to surrender to you the palm for -smartness and dandyism. Ha! who is caught? Toto! Toto! - -Rsilieux is beaming, Claire is happy, Suzanne is an idiot; such is the -condition of the household. I am all three at the same time, plus the -adoration I profess energetically for your imperial and sacred person. -Kiss me and be careful of yourself this evening. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 12 noon, November 4th, 1839._ - -Good-morning, treasure. It is twelve by my clock, which is several hours -fast, but I have been up some little time. I have dressed my child, and -she is now practising on the piano. I spent the night thinking over what -you said, my adored one. One luminous phrase especially stands out and -scorches my soul. Perhaps you only said it idly as one of the -compliments one is constrained to make to the woman who loves one? I -know not, but I do know, that I have taken the assurance you gave me -that you have never really loved any woman but me, as a sacred thing, -unalterably true. I adore you and had never felt even the semblance of -love until I met you. I love and adore you, and shall love and adore you -for ever, for love is the essence of my body, my heart, my life, and my -soul. Believe this, my treasure, for it is God's own truth. Your dread -of seeing me re-enter theatrical life will quickly be dissipated by the -probity and steadiness of my conduct. I hope, and am certain of this. -You have nothing to fear from me wherever I may be. I adore you, I -venerate you. If I could do as you wish and renounce the theatre, that -is to say my sole chance of securing my future, I would do so without -hesitation and without your having to urge it, simply to please you. -But, my beloved, I feel that it were easier to relinquish life itself -than the hope of paying my creditors and making myself independent by -earning my own living. If I were to make this sacrifice I am sure my -despair would bring about some irreparable catastrophe that would weigh -upon you all your days. - -My adored one, do not try to turn me from the only thing that can bring -me peace and make me believe in your love. Help me and do not forsake -me unless I give you just cause to do so. Spend your whole life in -loving me, in exchange for my unswerving loyalty and adoration. - -Kiss me, my little man. - -I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 4.45 p.m., November 15th, 1839._ - -I wrote the date and hour on this half-sheet of paper, thinking it was -blank. I explain this, in order that your suspicious mind may not again -draw a flood of insulting deductions from a thing that has happened so -simply and naturally. You upset me just now when you said good-bye, -because you said cruel things. It was a bad moment to choose. Your -manner to me is enough to discourage an angel, and I have begun to ask -myself whether it is possible to love a woman one does not esteem. If -you esteemed me you would not for ever suspect my words, my silence, my -actions, my conduct; if you loved me you would know how to appreciate my -honesty and fidelity, whereas even in the tenderest moments of our most -intimate communion, you never fail to say something cruel and -disheartening. I often say one might almost imagine you were under a -promise to someone to tire out my love by inflicting pain upon me on -every occasion; but I hope you will never succeed in doing this. - -I suffer, I despair at heart, but I love you so far, and I hope for both -our sakes that I always shall. I cling to my love even more than to your -esteem, for the latter is a poor blind thing that cannot distinguish -night from day, candle-light from sunshine, or an honest woman from a -harlot. - -[Illustration: THE BRIDGE OF MARNE. - -Drawing by Victor Hugo (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -My love is more clear-sighted. It was attracted at once by your physical -and spiritual perfection, and has never confused you with any other of -the human species. I love you, Toto. Torment me, drive me to desperation -if you will, but you shall never succeed in diminishing my affection. My -head aches, little man, and the thoughts that fill it at this moment are -not calculated to cure its pain. I press my hand upon my brow to crush -thought, and I open my heart to all that is good and tender in my love -for you. Good-bye, Toto. I adore you. Good-bye. We were very happy this -morning; let us try to be so again very soon. - -In the meantime I adore you. - -JULIETTE. - -_Wednesday, 8.45, November 20th, 1839._ - -I am in despair. I wish I were dead and everything at an end! The more -precautions I take, the more I purge my life, the less happiness I -achieve. It is as if I were accursed, and I often feel a wild desire to -behave as if I were, and crush my love underfoot. I am so unhappy that I -lose all courage and hope for the future. You were very good to me when -you were going away, but that does not prove that when you come back -presently you may not be the most offensive and unjust of men. I -sacrifice to you one by one all my actions, even the most insignificant; -I am careful inwardly and outwardly to cause you no sort of offence, and -yet I am unsuccessful! My struggles only fatigue and dishearten me. On -the eve of taking the great step which would bind us to each other even -closer than we already are, would it not be better for us to break off -our relations, and put a stop to the whole thing instead? I can -understand now the generosity of Didier, who elects to die upon the -scaffold forgiving Marion with his last breath, rather than live -persecuting and torturing her with the recollection of her past, and -with suspicions a thousand times more painful than death and oblivion. -Ah, yes, I can understand a Didier like that.... I suffer! Ah, God, -people who do not love are very fortunate! I love you, and I know that -failing some violent remedy I shall continue to suffer and care for you. -I admit that all these things I write are absurd, and that it would be -wiser to throw this letter into the fire, and keep to myself the -thousand and one follies inspired by my despair. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 5.30 p.m., December 16th, 1839._ - -You did well, my adored one, to come back after the painful incident we -had just gone through. If you had not, I should have been wretched all -the evening. Thank you, my beloved Toto, thank you, my love. You looked -very preoccupied, my treasure, when you came up the first time. I -gathered that Guirault's letter had something to do with this, and that -you were meditating your answer. Beyond that, I did not take much -notice, for I was too furious with you to be able to think of anything. - -If you knew how much I love you, and how faithful I am to you, my adored -one, you would be less suspicious. Suspicion is an insult that makes me -frantic, because, it proves to me that you do not believe in either my -honesty or my love. Jealousy is another thing: one can be jealous of a -face or of a person, because however sure one may be of one's own -superiority, one may still fear that some beast or monster may be -preferred to oneself; but jealousy, I repeat, is different from -everlasting suspicion of one's actions and even of one's negative -conduct and inaction. Finally, I differentiate between jealousy and -suspicion; I feel there is a great gulf between my jealousy and yours, -and yet I love you more than you love me--you cannot gainsay that--if -you admit it, I will pardon all your misdeeds and adore you and kiss -your dear little feet. _Hurrah! I am to have my wardrobe! Hurrah!_ - -You will not be an Academician, but you will always be my dear little -lover. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 5 p.m., January 16th, 1840._ - -I love you, my Toto, and am sad at seeing you so seldom. But I know how -much you have to do, my little man, so am not angry with you--still that -does not prevent me from being horribly sad. - -Money melts in my pocket. I was reading yesterday a description of -Monsieur de Svign, the son, which applies wonderfully to me. "He had -no hobbies, did not entertain, gave no presents, wore plain attire, -gambled not at all, had only one servant and not a single horse on which -to ride out with the King or the Dauphin; yet his hand was like a -crucible wherein gold is melted." I am rather like that. I do not give -many presents, I wear the same dress for a year at a time, I only do -expensive cooking when you are coming to dine with me, I have only one -servant, and yet money disappears in my establishment like snow under -the rays of the sun. With me, it is not my hand that is the crucible, -but my past life, which is like an abyss that all the money in the world -would find it difficult to fill. That is why I am sad. Love me, my Toto, -and above all do not kill yourself with working for everybody as you do -without respite. I can sell something I do not want, whereas your health -and repose are indispensable to my welfare and tranquillity. Remember -that, my dear one, and do not be over scrupulous at the expense of the -real consideration which makes my happiness. When shall I see you again, -treasure? - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 1.15 p.m., March 22nd, 1840._ - -Good-morning, my beloved Toto. I read the manuscript of "Didine" over -again last night, and I shed all the tears I had restrained in your -presence. I am more convinced than ever that you committed an act of -unfaithfulness against our love when you composed those lines. I do not -see how you can hope to persuade me to the contrary, or wonder that I am -wounded to the quick by such a mental and spiritual lapse. Jealousy is -not excited only by infidelities of the senses, but primarily by such an -infidelity as that which you have committed in writing these verses and -concentrating your gaze and your thoughts upon that young girl, while my -whole heart and soul were raised in prayer for you in that church at -Strasbourg. I will never go back there, either to the church or to the -town. There is an end of that. Would to God we had never gone there at -all! I should have preserved one illusion more, and suffered one sorrow -less. Well, well, it is not your fault. You wished to carry away the -memory of that woman, as you could not possess her person, and you have -written some very beautiful lines which prove, in the same degree as my -pain, what a profound and striking impression she produced upon you. I -hope you may never experience a jealousy so well-justified as mine about -any woman you may love in the future; for myself I desire a speedy -recovery from the most miserable infatuation in all this world. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 6.45 p.m., June 1st, 1840._ - -I am writing to you in the company of Rsilieux, my love, but that does -not restore to me the gaiety I have lost since this morning. That woman -and her persistence annoy me more than I can say. When I think of the -close confinement in which I live and realise the depth and devotion of -the love I bear you, I am indignant to the bottom of my heart that a -wretched woman of the street should dare to cast the eye of envy upon a -passion which constitutes the religion and adoration of my whole life. -If I listened to my own inclination, I should make a terrible example of -the hussy and her low caprice, and no other would venture an attempt to -capture your affections for many a long day. I am wretched since this -morning. I think myself plain, old, stupid, badly dressed--and all -because I tremble for the safety of my love, because I am afraid for my -poor little slice of happiness. Alas! alas! my Toto, I care too much -for you; it is crazy of me. I did so hope that when your family was -settled in the country, you would sometimes come and take me out with -you--but, on the contrary, in a whole month I have only been out once -with you; for I do not count those two evenings at the theatre, when I -drove there and back in a carriage. It would be a cruel jest if you -considered those as going out with you. I am not well. I have rushes of -blood to the head and heart, but you do not care. I shall not do my -monthly accounts to-night; my head aches too badly. Perhaps I may try -to-morrow. The laundress has been here and I have paid her; I shall -probably get the grocer's bill to-morrow, but I shall certainly not pay -it unless you have plundered some passer-by to-night. Meanwhile, I love -you, my Toto. Dinner has just been announced; I shall not be as happy as -yesterday, for you are not dining with me; but perhaps as I am alone I -shall be able to ruminate over my good fortune, for I was hardly able to -realise it at all yesterday with all those females about. - -JULIETTE. - - -_January 7th, 9.30 a.m., 1841._ - -Good-morning, my darling Toto, to whom I dare not yet give his -prospective title, for I am very doubtful of the integrity of old -Dupaty. I hope you will not keep me waiting too long for the result of -the rabid voting of the opposing parties.[81] The contest becomes more -and more curious and interesting. I wish it were already four o'clock. - -The weather is not very propitious for that moribund scoundrel. It would -be difficult to let him down through the window, and still more so to -transport him to the place where we do not wish him to be. If the -computation is correct, the mortal illness of the old wretch should give -you the place by a majority of one vote at the first scrutiny; but what -about a black-ball? Perhaps this time it will come from the ignoble -creature who walks under the filthy, greasy, hideous hat of that beast -Dupaty. I wish we were already at this afternoon, that I might know what -the foul old man has dared to do. Until then I shall look at my clock -many and many a time. Try, my love, to come at once and tell me the -result whatever it may be. I shall at least have the pleasure of seeing -you, which will add to the joy of your nomination or console you for -your defeat. - -By the way, you were so shabby last night that one might suppose you -were preparing to contest the palm of bad dressing with that old -pickpocket Dupaty. I shall forgive you your untidiness if you are -successful. I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 6 p.m., January 7th, 1841._ - -I am enchanted for everybody's sake, my dear Academician, that at last -you are elected. There you are at last, thanks to the seventeen votes of -your friends, and in spite of your fifteen adversaries. You are an -Academician. Hurrah! - -I wish I could have witnessed with my own eyes the grimaces of all -those contemptible old things, and heard the profession of faith of that -horrible Dupaty; you ought to indemnify me by showing me your own -beautiful countenance for a little more than a paltry five minutes as -you did just now. I love you, Toto, as much as the first day and more -than ever. But, alas, I dare not believe the same of you, for I do not -see much proof of it, as my maid would say. The fact is that whether as -an Academician, or a candidate, or nothing at all, I hardly see you more -than an hour a day. This is neither novel nor consoling; it becomes more -and more sad and painful. Think of that, my love, and come very soon -after you have read my letter. - -I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 10.45 a.m., April 11th, 1841._ - -Good morning, my beloved Toto, my adored little man. How are you, my -darling? I am afraid you may have tired yourself last night reading your -splendid speech to me. Poor beloved, it would be a calamity that my -pleasure should cost you so dear; it would be unjust and cruel. I hope -it is not so, my adored one, and that you have not been punished for -your kindness. - -What a magnificent address! and how stupid it is of me only to -appreciate it inwardly, and to be incapable of expressing my feelings -better than by inarticulate grunts. It is not my fault, yet since I have -learned to love you I have not been able to resign myself to my -limitations. Every time the opportunity presents itself to admire you I -am furious with myself and should like to slap and kick myself--though -my poor body would have no time to recover between the assaults, for -every single thing you say and do is as admirable and striking as your -written works. So I should be kept busy. Fortunately you do not object -to my want of intellect; you realise the quality and proportions of my -love. All my intelligence and being have turned to spirit, to idolise -you. I may be only a goose outwardly, but inwardly I am sublime with -devotion. Which is best? I cannot tell, it is for you to decide. -Meanwhile I am the most fortunate of women to have heard the beginning -of your beautiful speech, and I love you with all my strength. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 4.30 a.m., June 3rd, 1841._ - -Good morning, my adored little man, my beloved _Monsieur l'Acadmicien_! -How are you, my Toto? I am very much afraid you will be horribly tired -before this afternoon, poor treasure![82] I think you should have had -the speech printed a day earlier, and have kept this night free for -resting. - -I really do not know how you will manage to deliver your address after -these several days of grinding fatigue, and a night spent in correcting -the proofs at the printing-works. Nobody but you can accomplish these -feats of endurance. Still, my beloved, it is time you changed a mode of -living which must kill you in the long run. I hope you are going to -spend the remaining few hours in your bed. - -I already feel as agitated as if I were going to make the speech myself. -I shall be in a desperate state of mind until you have finished and -Salvandy begins to speak. I shall have this fearful lump on my chest -until then. - -Whatever happens I adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_June 3rd, 5.30 p.m., 1841._ - -Where shall I begin, my love? At your divine feet or your celestial -brow? What shall I express first? My admiration? Or the adoration that -overflows my heart like your sublime genius surpasses the mediocre -creatures who listened to you without understanding, and gazed at you -without falling upon their knees! Ah, let me mingle those two sentiments -that dazzle my brain and burn up my heart. I love you! I admire you! I -adore you! You are truly splendid, noble, and sublime, my poet, my -beloved, light of my eyes, flame of my heart, life of my life! Poor -adored beloved; when I saw you enter, so pale and shaken, I felt myself -swooning, and but for the support of Madame Dmousseaux and Madame -Pierceau, I should have fallen to the floor. Happily nobody noticed my -emotion, and when I came to myself and saw your sweet smile answering -mine and encouraging me, I felt as if I were awaking from a long, -painful dream, though only a second of time had elapsed. - -Thank you, my adored one, for sparing a thought to the poor woman who -loves you, at that solemn moment--I should have said, that supreme -moment, if the assemblage had not consisted for the greater part of -tiresome blockheads and vile scoundrels. - -Thank you, my good angel, my sublime Victor, my illustrious _child_. I -saw all your dear little family;[83] lovely Didine, charming Charlot, -and dear little Toto who looked pale and delicate. I kissed them all in -spirit as I did their divine father. - -I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 2.30 p.m., July 8th, 1841._ - -While you are lording it at the Acadmie[84] I am weeping and suffering -at home. You might have spared me this pain by inviting me to attend the -sitting, or else staying away yourself. I must warn you, my Toto, that -this sort of sacrifice and torment is unendurable, and if it happens -again I do not know what I may do rather than resign myself to it. - -We are not living in the East, and you have not _bought_ me, thank -Heaven! I am free to cast off the yoke of proceedings which are neither -just, nor kind, nor affectionate. I swear by all I hold most sacred in -this world, namely my love, that I will not submit a third time to be -thus flouted. If you knew how furious and miserable I am feeling at this -moment of writing, you would not venture to inflict a third trial of the -kind upon me. In any case pray keep my letter as a _definite -announcement_ of what I am capable of doing if you are so cruel as to -persist in your present line of conduct. Meanwhile I am doing my best to -avoid taking any definitely fatal step, but I warn you that I cannot -much longer remain mistress of myself. - -JULIETTE. - - -_1 a.m._ - -Hell in my heart at noon, Paradise at midnight, my Toto. I love you and -have full confidence in you. - - -_Friday, 7.45 p.m., November 19th, 1841._ - -I HAVE IT! HURRAH!! Fancy, it has been here all the morning, yet nothing -warned me! My heart did not beat faster than usual, the earth did not -tremble, the skies did not fall, in fact everything remained in its -humdrum, normal condition, as if nothing unusual had happened--and it -was here all the time! I possessed it in my room, under my eyes! Verily -it can hardly be credited, and if anybody but myself said so I should -not believe it. But what you must believe, my love, for indeed it is -true, is that I love you and that you are the kindest, most charming, -best, handsomest, most generous, most noble, and most adored of men. -That is what you have got to believe, because it is God's own truth. The -cabinet is fascinating, but what is still nicer is the way you gave it -to me. "The manner of the gift is better than the gift itself," was once -said by some one whose name I have forgotten. When you are the donor, -the proverb is still more applicable. If you had all the treasures of -the universe to bestow, you would do it with a grace that would enhance -the value of the gift a thousandfold. As for me I am mad with delight, -for I believe you love me. I may tell you now that last night I cried -helplessly at the thought of how much younger and handsomer you are than -I. I anticipated the moment when you will no longer be able to love me, -and my heart contracted so that I should have suffocated without the -relief of tears. I feel I shall certainly die the day you cease to care -for me, and I know that no other woman can ever worship you as I do. But -I trust that day will never dawn, will it, my angel? There are no -wrinkles in the heart, and you will see my face only in the reflection -of your attachment, eh, Victor, my beloved? The while I wept and -mourned, you were thinking of me, my poor sweet, and bringing me the -cabinet. We were both performing an act of love, mine gloomy, yours, -charming and considerate like everything you do. I hope your present -will bring us both happiness, and that you will adore me as long as I -shall admire my dear little cabinet--that is, for ever. - -I HAVE IT! WHAT HAPPINESS! I should like to put it in the middle of the -room on a golden table, or in my bed, or carry it in my arms, on my -heart, anywhere in fact where it could be seen and touched. Meanwhile I -will give it a good cleaning to-morrow. It is rather too late to-night. -I must do some copying, and dine, and send you back the scribble you -entrusted to me yesterday, so I will put off till to-morrow--principally -because I shall have a better light then. I will clean it in bed, drawer -by drawer. It will be a delightful occupation. - -I love you, I love you, Toto, I kiss you and adore you, Toto. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday evening, 6.30, February 9th, 1842._ - -Do you really want me to write Toto, even when my heart is breaking, and -my soul brimful of discouragement? I obey, but if you would only listen -to me, you would allow me to discontinue these daily scrawls, which have -never served any purpose but that of betraying the measure of my -stupidity and making you tire of a love become absurd by dint of -reiteration. I feel you only insist out of kindness, but it seems futile -to continue this childish babble, which deceives neither you nor me, and -gives me no indication of what is passing in your mind. It would be -better, my beloved, to inure me gradually to a catastrophe which may be -nearer than I guess, than to make efforts to leave me an illusion which -neither of us really shares nowadays. A sad ending to all our past -happiness! God grant it may not be altogether buried. This does not -prevent me from doing you full justice, my friend. You are kind with a -kindness full of pity and divine indulgence, but you no longer cherish -for me the love of a man for a woman. Do not pretend otherwise, for you -cannot delude me. I bear you no grudge my Victor, neither should you -bear me any, for it is no more your fault than mine, that you do not -love me while I still love you--not our fault, but God's, Who -distributes unequally the amount of love we may each expend during our -lives. Happy he or she to whom the smaller sum is apportioned--so much -the worse for him or her whose heart is inexhaustible. Now, my beloved -Toto, I will torment you no longer. I will even try to make myself -agreeable, though, alas, what woman can be agreeable when she is no -longer loved! But I shall do my best, and that, coupled with your -natural generosity, may still retard for a few days the greatest -misfortune of my life. Fear nothing from me, my Victor. You have to-day -received the last expression of my choler. One may strike, and even -kill, while one feels oneself beloved, but one must spare the man who no -longer cherishes one. - -You see, my Victor, that you have nothing to be afraid of, but I beseech -you to let me off these daily scribbles about things that have neither -point nor reason. - -I demand this of your goodness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 2.30 p.m., February 10th, 1842._ - -My beloved, my adored Victor, thank you! You remove hell from my heart, -and replace it with paradise. Thank you! My life, my spirit, my soul, -bless and adore you. What a letter, my God! I wanted to read it -kneeling; happy tears poured down my cheeks. You love me, my dear one! -It must be true, for you declare it in the loveliest, sweetest language -of the whole world. You love me although I am ill-tempered, violent, -stupid; you love me my good angel, because you know that your love is -the breath of life to me, and that without it I could no longer exist. I -also love you, but only God and myself know how deeply. Yesterday when -you left me, I was on my knees praying and kissing with tears the -footsteps I could hear fading away in the street. I could have flung -myself out of the window and died at your feet. My despair, then, was as -poignant as the bliss I felt just now when I read your adored letter. -My Victor, my love, my life, my joy, I love you more than ever! I -implore your forgiveness, I throw myself at your feet and embrace them. -Thank you, my treasure. You must be very happy, for you have done a -lovely thing in writing me the most charming, the kindest, the most -wonderful and most adorable letter that ever issued from your heart. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 9.30, April 30th, 1842._ - -Good morning, my adored Toto. How did the little invalid sleep last -night? As for you, I do not even ask, my poor dear, for I know you spend -all your nights working. I love you, my poor angel. I do not know what -else to say, because that is the only thought in my heart and soul; to -love you always and for ever. Here comes the bright sunshine that is -going to cure our poor little man at once.[85] I have not seen a finer -spring since the one we spent strolling about the heights of Montmartre -together. I cannot think of it without tears of regret for the days that -are gone, and of gratitude to Providence for those few moments of most -perfect felicity. I would give half my life to have it again, my beloved -Toto; and it depends only upon you--if you wished it, we could easily -recover the happiness of those days. Why do you no longer desire it? I -know you have to work, but so you did then--_Claude Gueux_, _Philosophie -Mle_, _Les Voix Intrieures_, _Les Chants du Crpuscule_, _Anglo_, -_Les Rayons et Les Ombres_ and _Ruy Blas_, are there to prove it. In -those days you loved me better than you do at present. Alas, I love you -more than ever, or rather, as much as the first day!--that is, with -all my soul. - -JULIETTE. - -[Illustration: A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET. - -The original belongs to M. Louis Barthou.] - -_Saturday, 6.30 p.m., August 20th, 1842._ - -I am a strange creature--at least you think so, do you not, beloved? But -what you take for eccentricity, caprice, bad-temper, is really love, but -an unhappy love, mistrustful and anxious. Everything is to me a subject -of dread almost amounting to despair. Thus this visit to the Duchesse -d'Orlans, whither I quite admit you were kind enough to take me, was -simply a torment on account of the hour and the circumstances: I, badly -dressed, barely clean, and that woman under the prestige of a great -sorrow[86] which, next to physical beauty, is the surest way to your -heart. I frankly confess that however gallant my love may be, and -whatever reliance I may place upon your loyalty, I am not easy when I -have to fight and struggle without weapons. This result of a _surprise_ -and a hurried rush through Paris in a cab may seem excessive to you, and -verging on hysteria; but the fact is, my adored one, that my love, so -long repressed, is verily degenerating into a disease, almost into -frenzy. Everything hurts me. I am afraid of everything. I am a poor -thing needing much compassion for loving you so. If these incoherent -expressions do not force upon you the realisation of the depth of my -devotion, it must be that you no longer care for me, or indeed have -never done so; but if on the contrary you do understand, you will pity -and pardon me, and love me all the better, and I am the happiest of -women. - -JULIETTE. - - -_February 14th, 11.15 a.m., 1843._ - -Good morning beloved Toto, good morning adored one. I love you. When I -heard you describing last night the impression produced upon you by the -rehearsal of _Lucrce_ and more especially by the singing of the guests, -I seemed to feel it all myself. The fact that my love has not grown a -day older, that my admiration is still on the increase, that I think you -as handsome and as young as ever, makes it easier for me to go back to -the feelings of those days. Looking into my heart, I seem to feel that -all this adulation and joy and feast of glory and love began yesterday. -Alas, those ten years have left traces only upon my poor countenance, -and have been as harsh to it as they have been indulgent to your -charming features. - -I express this somewhat crudely, as I always manage to do, but it is not -my fault, my love, nor any one else's. I love you. Therein consist my -intelligence, my wit, my superiority; beyond that I am as stupid as any -other animal. - -You must be very busy to-day with the two rehearsals,[87] and the -Maxime[88] worry which falls upon your devoted head, not to speak of the -_great business_! I dare not expect you to-night till very late. Well, -my dearly beloved, I know you do not belong to me, so I will resign -myself as cheerfully as may be, and put a good face upon your absence. -Try to think of me, my dear little man; that is all I venture to ask at -this moment. As for me, there is no more merit in thinking of you and -loving you than in breathing. - -I love you, Toto, as much as life. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 4.30 p.m., September 13th, 1843._ - -Where are you? What are you about, my adored one?[89] In what condition -is your family? What state are you in yourself? what will happen to us -all in our despair, if God be not merciful to us! Since you left me I -can think only of your arrival at home. I imagine the scene: the -despairing sobs of your children, the expression of your own frightful -grief, so long and sternly repressed. All those tears and sufferings -fall back upon my heart and rend it. I cannot bear more. My poor head is -on fire and my hands burn like live coals. I want to pray and cannot; -all my faculties, all my being, turn to you. I would give my life to -spare you a single pang. I would have sacrificed myself in this world, -and the next to save your adored child. My God, what will become of me -if you stay away much longer, when I have refrained with such difficulty -from sending to get news of you? I have begged Madame Lanvin to come to -me this afternoon and bring her husband, so that if, as I fear, I have -not seen you before then, he can go and ask for news of you under the -name of Monsieur St. Hilaire. My heart aches, my poor treasure, when I -think of all you are enduring. I feel I cannot much longer bear not -seeing you. I shall commit some act of folly if you do not come to my -assistance. I exhausted my strength and courage on that awful journey, -and during last night and to-day. I have none left now to endure your -absence. I picture to myself your wife ill, and you also; in fact, I am -like a mad thing in the extremity of my anxiety and grief. I am trying -to occupy myself mechanically, in order to bring nearer the moment when -I shall see you, but my efforts only make every minute of waiting seem -like a century, and all the fears my heart anticipates, become frightful -realities against which I cannot struggle. My adored Victor, whatever be -your despair, mine is greater still; for I feel it through my love, -which makes it a hundred times worse and multiplies it beyond all human -calculation. Never has man been so idolised by woman as you are by me, -and the poor angel we mourn knows it and sees it now, as God knows and -sees it, and she will forgive, as He does, I am certain. I think of her, -poor beloved, as an angel of heaven. To her I shall direct my prayers, -that she may give you the strength and courage you need. To her also I -shall address myself in the hour of death, that the good God may take me -with all of you into His Paradise. - -My adored Victor, it is more than five o'clock, and you have not yet -come. What shall I do! What can I think, or rather what am I to fear? We -are in a terrible cycle of misfortune, and God only knows when it will -end. My Victor, before giving way to despair, think of mine, remember -that I love you more than life. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 5.45 p.m., October 8th, 1843._ - -I have been working all the morning my beloved, or rather scribbling on -paper--only to please you, for I doubt whether my labour will be of any -use to you; still, I am trying hard, and if I cannot do _better_, I am -doing _my_ best. I cannot do more. I am trying more especially to forget -no detail, which makes me occasionally note down trivialities, little -futile, insignificant things. My search among our memories is like the -botanising of a child who is as apt to collect couch grass as the more -useful and rarer plants. However, I am doing my best, and better still, -I am obeying you. Would you believe that, although I have been writing -the whole day, I have not yet reached _Auch_.[90] My mind and pen rather -resemble the fantastic equipage we drove thither, but there is less risk -in the present venture. The worst that can happen is that we should -tumble promiscuously into a muck heap of absurdities and nonsense which -leave no bruises, whereas we risked our necks several times in the -course of the thirty-three miles between Tarbes and Auch. - -I should love to see you, my Toto. The day, though filled with joyous -recollections of our journey, has seemed long and sad to me. Nothing can -take the place of one of your embraces. The remembrance of the greatest -happiness cannot weigh against one glance from you. I realise it more -to-day than ever before; therefore, do try and come, my beloved Toto. It -will give me courage and patience to get through the evening. I love you -too much, you see, but I cannot help it; it is no fault of mine. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 7.15 p.m., November, 1843._ - -I think of you my beloved, I desire you, I love you. Ah yes, I love you -my adored Toto, you may be sure of it, for it is God's truth. My little -Claire and I talk of you and nothing but you. We love you and bless you. -The poor little child will not be with me much longer, and I can already -see her poor little face wrinkling up with sorrow; but I try to be -cheerful and to remind her of the fortnight's holiday which will soon -come. We love the pictures of your dear little Toto, and his pretty -home. We gaze at them with eagerness and affection, we are all eyes and -heart. At this moment Claire is reading Ulric's poems,[91] while I am -writing to my beloved Toto with a heart full of gratitude and devotion. -May the happiness you bestow upon me, be yours also, my love! May a just -pride sustain you, for you have saved two souls, the mother's and the -daughter's! I feel ineffable things I dare not express, for fear of -vulgarising them by the mere fact of putting them into words. Do not -delay long ere you come, my darling Toto. If you knew the joy and -radiance you diffuse in this house, you would indeed hasten your steps. -Alas, I am foolish, for have you not children of your own whom you must -also make glad! I am envious of them, but not cruel enough to deprive -them of their bliss--only I beg of them to hurry with their enjoyment, -so that my turn may come. - -Did you give Dd the sachet? Did Toto take back his quince jelly? -Meanwhile, I am giving Suzanne a whole evening to herself, and making my -little rogue read _Le Muse des Familles_. I should love to give you a -good kiss, but I know you will not come for it. You have not the sense -to do so. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 11.15 a.m., July 22nd, 1844._ - -Good morning my beloved, my sweet, my darling little Toto. How are you? -Are you less sad and painfully pre-occupied than yesterday, my adored -one? Alas, it is unlikely ... your grief and sorrow are not of those -that time can soften. You have the painful faculty of feeling things far -more acutely than do other men. Genius does not only pertain to the -brain, it belongs above all to the heart. My poor dear one, I love you; -I suffer when you suffer; be merciful to us both, I implore you. - -My little Claire went away this morning. She was more resigned than -usual, for she has a holiday of three days in prospect, beginning next -Saturday. The poor little thing is very devoted to us; her sole -happiness is to be with us. She complains of not seeing you often -enough, and I back her up in that. You must try to give us at least one -evening out of the three she will spend at home. Verily I am not very -cheerful company for the poor child when I am alone with her. I am so -absorbed in my love that sometimes I do not speak to her twice in the -day, however much I try to bring myself to do so. - -I have copied Mry's verses, because I do not wish to deprive -Mademoiselle Dd of his autograph. I can understand her setting store -by it, poor darling, so I shall make a point of returning it to her. -Only (and it is you I am addressing now) you must give me just as many -as you give her. You must not lose your good habits, my darling, for I -am sure it would bring us bad luck. Therefore you must bring me all your -letters as you used to do. I promise to divide them conscientiously with -dear little Dd, and you know quite well that I am a woman of my word. -I adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 4.45 p.m., October 20th, 1844._ - -I have sent to Barbedienne, my adored one, but Suzanne has not yet -returned. I am writing to you meanwhile to make the time hang less -heavy. I hope to goodness I may be able to procure that lovely -medal![92] Since I have glimpsed the chance of possessing it, I feel my -disappointment would be greater than I could bear, if I failed to get -it. Good God, how slowly that girl walks! Fancy having to trust to legs -like those on such an occasion! I could have gone there and back ten -times, since she went. May the devil fly away with her, or rather, -precipitate her right into the middle of my room with his cloven foot, -providing only that she brings the longed-for medal! - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN 1846. - -Bust by Victor Vilain (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -Here she is! Ah! Victor, do not be angry! Victor, I am at your -feet--Victor, I will be reasonable for the whole of the rest of my life -if only you will let me add 15 fr. to the sum you promised me. Oh, -Victor, I have not time to wait for your answer and yet I fear to annoy -you. Ah, no, you are too kind to be angry with your poor Juju who loves -you with such absolute admiring, devoted love! You will look at her with -your gentle, ineffable smile, and say I was right--surely, yes, you -will. Three cheers for Toto! Juju is a clever woman ... at heart. Yes, -it is quite true and I am the happiest of women. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 9.30 a.m., September, 1845._ - -I have just been gardening, beloved. I am soaked with dew and all muddy, -but I have spent three hours thinking of you without any bitterness. My -eyes were as moist as my flowers, but I was not weeping. While I busied -myself with the garden, I reviewed in thought the lovely flowers of my -past happiness. I saw them again fresh and blooming as the first day, -and I felt close to you, separated only by a breath. As long as the -illusion lasted I was almost happy. I should have liked to pluck my soul -and send it to you as a nosegay. Perhaps what I am saying is silly, yet -it is the sort of nonsense that can only issue direct from the -tenderest, most passionate heart that ever lived. For nearly thirteen -years past, I have never once written to you without feeling my hand -tremble and my eyes fill. When I speak of you, no matter to whom, my -heart swells as if it would burst through my lips. When I am dead, I am -certain that the imprint of my love will be found on my heart. It is -impossible to worship as I do without leaving some visible trace behind -when life is over. - -My beloved Victor, let your thoughts dwell with me, so that my days may -seem shorter and less dreary; and do try to surprise me by coming -to-night. Oh, how happy I shall be if you do that! - -Meanwhile, I love you more than I can say. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 a.m., September 27th, 1845._ - -Good morning my beloved, my soul, my life, my adored Victor. How are -you? I hope yesterday did not tire you too much. I forgot until you -reminded me that you have been forbidden to walk much, but I do trust it -did you no harm; did it, Victor darling? As for me I felt no fatigue, I -seemed to have wings. I should have liked to place my feet on all the -paths we traversed together eleven years ago, to kiss the very stones of -the roads and the leaves on the trees, and to pick all the flowers in -the woods, so keenly did I fancy they were the very same that watched us -pass together all those years ago. I gazed at you my adored Victor, and -in my eyes you were as young and handsome, nay handsomer even, than -eleven years ago. I looked into my heart and found it full of the same -ecstasy and adoration that animated it the first day I loved you. -Nothing was changed in us or about us. The same ardent, devoted, sad and -sweet affection in our hearts, the same autumn sun and sky above our -heads, the same picture in the same frame; nothing had changed in eleven -years. I would have given a decade of my life to stand alone for ten -minutes in that house that has sheltered our memories for so long. I -should like to have carried away ashes from the fireplace, dust from -the floors. I should have liked to pray and weep, where once I prayed -and wept, to have died of love on the spot where once I accepted your -soul in a kiss. I had to exercise superhuman self-control not to -perpetrate some act of folly in the presence of that girl who showed us -so indifferently over a house I could have purchased at the price of -half the rest of my life. Fortunately, thanks to her profound ignorance -of our identity, she noticed nothing, and we were each able to bring -away a tiny relic of our former happiness. Mine must be buried with me -when I die. - -Beloved, did you work late last night? It was very imprudent of you if -you did, after the fatigue you underwent during the day. To-day, you -must be very careful and not walk much. I shall be extremely stern with -you. My antiquarian propensities shall not make me forget, like -yesterday, that you are still convalescent and must hardly walk at all. -And you will obey me, because little Totos must always obey little -Jujus, as you know. - -Kiss me, my adored Victor, and may God bless you for all the happiness -you give me. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 9 p.m., May 2nd, 1846._ - -I cannot nerve myself to the realisation that I shall not see you this -evening my sweet adored beloved; yet it is all too true. This is the -first time in fourteen years that I have not slept in a room belonging -to you.[93] Consequently I am feeling quite forlorn. Everything -conspires to harrow me. Just now when I left you I longed for death, and -the tears I drove from my eyes trickled inwardly to my sad heart. If -this anxiety about my child, and the separation from you, are to last -long, I do not think I shall have strength to endure them. I am vexed -and disgusted at the tone of those about me. I am ashamed and indignant -at my inability to remove myself from it, however I may try; then when I -remember you, so generous, so loyal, so noble, so kind and indulgent, my -bitterness evaporates and nothing remains in my heart but admiration, -gratitude, and love for your divine and fascinating self. - - * * * * * - -When I got back, I found my child in a raging fever. I gave her fresh -compresses, and now she is sleeping. God grant she may do so all night, -and that the change of ideas and surroundings and air may have a good -effect upon her health. I shall in that case have less cause to grudge -the sacrifices I am voluntarily making to that end. Meanwhile, I am a -prey to fearful anxiety, and am suffering the uttermost from the absence -of what I love best in this world, above life, above duty, above -everything. Good-night, beloved. Think of me. Sleep well, and love me. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 3.45 p.m., 1846._ - -I love you, my Victor. Between every letter of those five sweet words -there lurk depths of maternal anguish and sorrow. Gloomy reflections -mingle with my tenderest thoughts. My life at this moment is divided -between my poor little daughter whom I already mourn in anticipation, -(for I feel that these few days of illness are but snatched from -Eternity), and my adoration for you, from which no preoccupation, even -of the most terrible and sinister character, can long distract me. On -the contrary, my love is all the greater for the trials and sufferings -God sends me. I love you selflessly, as if I myself were already over -the border. My heart is racked, yet I adore you. - -Claire's condition is the same as yesterday; only the weakness, which, -but for the doctor's plain warning I might have attributed to the heat, -has increased. The night was not very bad; the poor little thing suffers -hardly at all. She seems to have no firmer hold on life than life has -upon her. Apathy and profound indifference characterise her illness. -Only her father has the power to rouse her for the few moments he is -with her. He came this morning and happened to meet the doctor,[94] who, -it appears, is not quite so despondent as Monsieur Triger;[95] but what -does that prove? - -I have not been able to get her up at all to-day. She lay in bed in a -state of profuse and constant perspiration. The various tonics she takes -fail to produce any effect whatever. The exhaustion increases hour by -hour, which means that death is coming nearer. I pray, but I obtain -neither solace nor confidence. The good God disdains my prayers and -rejects them, I know--yet I love and admire Him in His beneficent, -lofty, noble, generous and beautiful works. - -I love Him as His saints and angels in Heaven love Him. What more can I -do to find favour in His eyes? He deprived me of my mother at my birth; -now He is about to snatch my child from me. Is that His justice? I do -not want to blaspheme, but I am very miserable, and if I do not see you, -if you cannot come to-day, I do not know what will become of me. Despair -fills my soul, but I love you. God may crush my heart if He so wills, -but the last breath from it shall be a cry of love for you, my sublime -beloved. - -JULIETTE. - - -_April 29th, 9 a.m., 1847._ - -Good morning, my adored Victor. My thoughts and soul and heart go out to -you in this greeting. I hope I shall see you before you go to the -rehearsal, for if I do not, I shall have to wait till this evening, -which would increase my depression. From now until the anniversary of -the terrible day on which I lost my poor child, every hour and minute is -punctuated by the recollection of the sufferings of that poor little -thing, and of the anguish I went through. They are painful memories, -impossible to exclude from my thoughts. Last night while I lay sleepless -I seemed to hear her, and in my dreams I saw her again as she looked at -the close of her illness. I am worn out this morning. All the pangs and -fatigues of the last moments of her life weigh down my heart and limbs. -It may be that I shall find comfort in prayer, and I shall pray better -by her side, buoyed up by the hope that she will hear me and obtain for -me resignation enough to bear her absence without murmur or bitterness. -It was you who gave me the courage to live. All that a heart can gain -from consolation, I found in your love; but there is a grief surpassing -all others and beyond human aid, for which only God can provide, and to -Him I must address myself to-day. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8 a.m., May 6th, 1847._ - -Good morning, my all, my greatly loved Toto. How are you this morning? -Did you gather in a good harvest of glances, smiles and flattery -yesterday from the women you met? Were you the cause of many incipient -passions, or were you yourself ensnared by those females, like any -beardless student or bald-headed peer of the realm? Tell me, how are you -after your evening at Court? For my part, I have a very sore throat and -am feeling fearfully cross. I have a longing to scratch which I should -love to vent upon the face of some woman or even upon yours--or better -still, upon both. I am sick of playing the gentle, sheep-like woman. I -intend to become as fierce as a hyena, and to make your life and -everything depending upon it a burthen to you. I mean to make a terrible -example of you, so that people shall say as you pass by, that it is a -woman who has been outraged, but a Juju who has avenged herself! -Meanwhile, to begin with, I am going to wrest from you somehow, two silk -dresses, a lovely hat, two pairs of smart shoes; and if you do not -confess your crime, I will punish you to the tune of torrents of -tea-gowns, pocket-handkerchiefs, and silk stockings. I am capable of -anything if you drive me too far. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 12.45 p.m., June 6th, 1848._ - -The more I think of all that is going on in Paris at this moment, my -beloved, the less do I desire the success of your election.[96] We must -let this frenzy of the populace which knows not what it wants and is in -no condition to distinguish the true from the false, or evil from good, -exhaust itself first. When it is worn out with turning in its own -vicious circle of disorder, violence, and misery, it will come to heel -and humbly crave the assistance of incorruptible, strong, sane -politicians, among whom you are the most incorruptible, the strongest, -and the sanest. I say this in the simplicity of my heart, without any -pretension to be other than a mere woman who loves you above all things, -and trembles lest you should enter upon some undertaking that might -jeopardise your life without saving your country. Therefore I pray that -this candidature, to which you have been driven in self-sacrifice and -generosity, may not succeed. If I am unpatriotic, I accept the blame, -but I do think that in this instance my feeling is in accord with the -best interests of France. It would not be the first time that the heart -has proved cleverer than the brain. It has happened too often in my case -for me to marvel. Pending our next meeting, I kiss you from my soul, I -adore you with all my strength. - -JULIETTE. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO, RPUBLICAIN. - -Political caricature, 1848.] - -_Monday, 9 a.m., July 9th, 1849._ - -I am hurrying, my love, for I wish to be at the door of the Assemble at -noon precisely, in order to secure a good place.[97] I wish the great -moment had arrived, for I am already feeling stage-fright, and it will -go on increasing until I see you descend from the tribune. I thought -this morning that I could not experience any other sensation than -happiness at seeing you, but now I begin to understand what fear is. Yet -when I say fear, I am hardly correct; for I mean something more -indefinite, which is rather the suspense before a great joy, than the -stupid emotion of cowardice or funk. In any case, I am very agitated; I -wander aimlessly about the house, and feel as if the longed-for moment -would never arrive. My blessed love, my great Victor, my sublime -beloved, I kiss in spirit your noble forehead with its generous -thoughts, your beautiful eyes so gentle and powerful, your fascinating -mouth, which has the happiness of speaking all your divine thoughts. I -prostrate myself before the most beautiful and most sublime thing in the -whole world, namely, your dear little person and your profound genius. - -I do not ask you to think of me before your speech, adored one, but -afterwards I entreat you to spare me one glance to complete my -happiness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 12.30, February 6th, 1850._ - -Think of me, my adored one, and do not permit yourself to be ensnared by -the mercenary blandishments of that woman.[98] I am in the throes of a -jealousy so terrible, that the hardest heart would be moved to pity, -and the most intrepid would fear me; for I am suffering, and I am -capable of anything to avenge a despicable treachery. Alas, my poor -adored one, this is not what I should like to say, or what I ought to -say. I realise that threats are powerless to hold you. I believe if the -statistics of infidelity could be drawn up like those of crime, it would -be shown that the severe penalties of the code of love are more apt to -drive lovers into breaches of its laws than to bind them together. I am -sure of it, and I wish I could convert my natural ferocity into bland -indifference, in order to remove from you the stimulant of a forbidden -Rachel; but it is no good--I shall never manage it. Therefore, I implore -you for the sake of your personal safety and mine, to be honourable and -prudent in your dramatic relations with that dangerous and perfidious -Jewess. Try not to prolong your literary and theatrical consultation -beyond the strictly necessary limits, and to come and fetch me before -three o'clock. - -I should be so grateful to you, my adored little man, for you would thus -abridge the moments of my torment. Meanwhile I am very unhappy and -anxious and worried. I try to hearten myself up by remembering the last -promises you made me. When do you intend to keep them, I wonder? God -knows! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 a.m., April 6th, 1850._ - -Good morning, my adored one, my sublime beloved. How are you? Did you -have a better night, or did fatigue and excitement prevent you from -sleeping? When I think of the admirable speech, so religious in -character, so noble, self-abnegating, and conciliating, that you -delivered yesterday[99] at the risk of your health, and then reflect -upon the senseless uproar, and idiotic and violent interruptions it -provoked, I feel only hatred, contempt, and disgust, for political life. -It is revolting that a man like you should be the butt of the -irresponsibility of all the parties. It is hateful, abominable, -infamous, that scoundrels without talent, wit, or feeling should dare -argue with you and should be accorded an attentive hearing where you -only meet with insults. Really, my treasure, the more I see of political -life, the more I regret the time when you were simply the _poet_ Victor -Hugo, my sublime love, my radiant lover. I revere your courage and -devotion, but I am hurt in my tenderest feelings when I see you -delivered over to the beasts of an arena a thousand times less -discriminating than that of ancient Rome. Therefore, my beloved Victor, -I have conceived a loathing, not only for your antagonists, but also for -the form of government which imposes this Sisyphus life upon you. If I -had the power to change it, I can assure you I should not hesitate, even -if I had to deprive you for ever of your rights of citizenship. -Unfortunately, I can do nothing beyond cordially detesting those who -obstruct your work. I pity you, bless you, admire you, and love you with -all my soul. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 3 p.m., June 29th, 1850._ - -I have just watched you go with inexpressible sadness, my sweet and -beautiful beloved. With you have departed the sunshine, the flowers, -the pleasant thoughts, the hopes that link past happiness with future -bliss. Nought remains to me but my love, a poor hermit whose regrets -have been her sole bedfellows this long time. When you turned the corner -of the street, something luminous, soft, and sweet, seemed to die within -me. From that moment I have been as depressed and desolate as if a great -misfortune had befallen me. Alas, it is in fact the misfortune that -weighs down my whole life, namely, your absence. Since politics have -monopolised your time, happiness has eluded my grasp. Will it ever -return? I doubt it, hence my despair. I am greatly to be commiserated, -my beloved, in that I have constituted your eyes my illumination, your -smile my joy, your words my bliss, your love my life--so that when you -are away, all these are simultaneously snatched from me. I am not -certain of seeing you to-night, still less to-morrow. What is to become -of me? What am I to do with this poor body bereft of its soul when you -are not by? Tell me if you can. Explain if you dare. Meanwhile, I adore -you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 10 p.m., July 7th, 1851._ - -What I had foreseen has happened, my beloved, even sooner and more -painfully than I had feared. Does this fresh crisis foreshadow my speedy -recovery? I dare not hope it, for I feel that my disease is incurable. I -tell you so in the frankness of my despair. I neither can nor will -deceive you, beloved, and my anxiety, far from diminishing, augments -with every minute. I am suffering the torment of the most humiliating -and poignant jealousy. I know that for seven years you have _adored_ a -woman you think beautiful, witty and accomplished.[100] I know that but -for her sudden treachery,[101] she would still be your preferred -mistress. I know that you introduced her into your family-circle, that -she is of your world, that you can meet her at any moment, that you -promised her you would continue your intimacy with her, at all events -outwardly. All this I know--yet you expect me to feel my own position -secure! Surely I should need to be idiotic or insane to do that. Alas, I -happen to be instead a very clear-sighted, miserable woman. - - -_Midnight._ - -Beloved, thanks to you and thanks to your tender perseverance and -inexhaustible kindness, I am once more, and this time for ever I hope, -the sensible, sanguine, happy Juju of the good old days. But if I am to -be quite as I was then, you must suffer no longer, my little man--you -must be as strong as three Turks, and love me as much as a hundred -Swiss-guards. On those conditions I shall be happy! happy!! happy!!!, -but pending that great day, try to sleep soundly to-night, not to be -unwell to-morrow, and to forgive me for loving you too much. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 p.m., July 26th, 1851._ - -I trust you, my beloved, and believe everything you say. I yield my soul -to the hopes of happiness you have held out to me. My heart is full of -love and security. I love you, I am happy, I am at peace, I forget all I -have suffered. I remember only the tender, loyal, encouraging words you -uttered just now. Felicity has succeeded despair--I quit hell and enter -Paradise. I love you and you love me, nothing can be sad any more. You -will see how I shall resume my interest in life, how I shall smile, how -happy I shall be, and what confidence I shall have in you. I do not know -whether we shall be able to carry out all the adorable plans you -sketched just now, but I experienced great happiness in anticipation -while I watched you making them, and knew myself so closely associated -with them. I felt as if all my past sorrows were transfigured into -happiness to come. I listened, and my heart was filled with joy. Thank -you, my Victor, thank you, my beloved. Do not be anxious about me any -more; now that you love me I shall get well. I shall be happy again, you -will see. I am beginning already, so as to lose no time in rewarding you -for your goodness and gentleness and patience. I am awaiting you with my -sweetest smiles, my tenderest caresses. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 12.45 p.m., July 28th, 1851._ - -This is the hour I begin to expect you, my Victor; each second that lags -past with the slowness of eternity crushes my hopes as quickly as I -conceive them. What is to become of me all this wretched day if I may -not see you? Oh, I thought myself stronger, braver, more resigned; but -now I see I have used up all my strength in the horrible struggle I -have been going through this last month. What will happen to me, shut up -here, all alone with that terrible anniversary, the 28th June, 1851? How -can I evade its ghastly grip, how keep myself from suicide, from the -desperate hankering after death? Oh, God, how I suffer! I implore you, -do not leave me alone here to-d....[102] - - -_Midnight._ - -This letter, which was begun in delirium and mad jealousy has ended, -thanks to you my ineffable beloved, in the happy calm of confidence and -the sacred joy of love shared. May you be blest, my Victor, as much as -you are respected, venerated, adored, and admired by me--then you will -have nothing further to desire in this world or the next. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 a.m., August 2nd, 1851._ - -Good morning, man that I love; good morning, with all my joy and smiles -and soul and happiness and love, if you had a good night and are well. I -felt sure your dear Charles' depression could not stand against an hour -of your gentle and persuasive philosophy. You have the marvellous art of -extracting good from evil, and consolation from despair, and there is -irresistible magic in your eyes and smile; your every word is full of -seduction. I, who only linger in this life in the hope of seeing you -every day, should know something of that. What the joys of eternity in -Paradise may be I cannot tell, but I would sacrifice them all for one -minute of your true love. My Victor, my Victor, I love you. You will see -how sensible I am going to be, and how I shall give way to all the -exigencies of your work, and the consideration required by your position -as a political personage. I am ready, my Victor; dispose of me how you -will; whether happy or unhappy, I shall bless you. I trust the bad -atmosphere you were compelled to breathe for several hours yesterday did -not injure your throat. I am eagerly awaiting this afternoon to learn -this, and to see you. Until then, I love you, I love you, I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday morning, September 12th, 1851._ - -Good morning, and forgive me my poor sweet beloved, for nothing was -further from my thoughts than to torment you as I involuntarily did -yesterday. My foolishness does not include malice, and I respect you -even in my most violent bouts of despair. Besides, you had just been -telling me something that ought to increase my clinging to life, namely, -my responsibility for your tranquillity, your fortune, your genius and -existence. Without accepting in its entirety this exaggerated view of my -own importance in the grave situation you find yourself in, my -persecuted love, I have grasped that I should be unworthy of the -position, were I to allow my troubles to weigh in the balance, against -your safety. Therefore, my Victor, you have nothing to fear from me, so -long as my poor brain retains a glimmer of reason, and my wretched heart -a scrap of confidence in your loyalty. - -I spent part of the night reading over your old letters, especially -those of _May 1844_,[103] and I shed more tears over your desecrated -tenderness and sullied affection, than you can have squandered kisses -upon that woman, during the seven years of your treachery to me. If life -could escape through the eyes, my sufferings would long ere this be -terminated; but like sorrow, the soul is not so quickly exhausted, -though God only knows where it finds sustenance. As for me, my adored -one, I love you without being able either to live or to be healed. I am -ashamed of my incurability, and I gratefully compassionate the -superhuman efforts you make to restore me to courage. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 10.45 p.m., October 23rd, 1851._ - -You know my dear little man, that I need no encouragement to give way to -epistolary intemperance. When time permits, I am always ready to fling -myself unrestrainedly into a sea of lucubrations without sense or end. -But this time I have more than a mere pretext for giving rein to my -harmless mania; I have two days full of the most radiant joy and -happiness that could befall a woman who lives only by and for her love. -Whole volumes would not suffice to enumerate and describe them, and even -your sublime genius would not be too great to express the splendid -poetry of them. I felt as if a little winged soul sprang from each one -of our embraces and flew heavenward with cries of jubilation and joy. -Your love penetrated my soul and warmed it, as the rays of the sun -pierce through the fogs and melancholy of autumn, and reach the earth -to console it and lay the blessed seed of hope within her womb. I -rejoiced in the bliss, watered by tears, that precedes and follows love -and sunshine, in that season of life and nature. Though my heart is -bestrewn with the dead leaves of past illusions, I feel new sap rising -within it, which awaits only your vivifying breath to bring forth the -flowers and fruits of love. - -My adored Victor, my soul overflows with the accumulated joys of those -two days of life by your side under the eye of God. I relieve myself as -best I can by pouring out the surplus of my enchantment upon this paper. -Sleep well, my adored one, I love you and bless you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8 a.m., November 6th, 1851._ - -Good morning, my sweetheart, my adored one. I wish my kisses had wings, -that you might find them on your pillow at your awakening. If you only -knew how much I love you, you would understand that for me there is -life, heart, and soul, only in you, by you, and for you. Yesterday when -I passed your old house in the Place Royale, all the memories of our -love and happiness awoke again within me. I stood awhile before it, -caressing its threshold with my eyes, fingering the knocker, pushing the -door ajar to peer in, as I should look at the inside of a reliquary, or -touch some sacred object. Then I went into the garden to gaze up at the -windows whence you sometimes looked down upon me. I wandered all about -the district in the same sweet, sad tremor I experience when I read over -your old love-letters. I traced our past happiness upon every stone of -the pavement, at every street-corner, on the shop-signs--everywhere I -found memories of our kisses among those surroundings where I enjoyed -happiness for so long, where you loved me and I adored you--where, eight -years ago, I would gladly have lain me down to die if God had left me -the choice. - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Wednesday, 1 p.m., December 17th, 1851_. - -Beloved one, I wish the first sheet of paper I use, the first word I -write, in this hospitable country, to be a message of love from me to -you. It is surely the least I can do, since my every thought, my life -and heart and soul, pass through you before reaching the common objects -of this world and returning to me. Is it indeed possible that you are -safe, my poor treasure, and that I have nothing further to fear for your -life or liberty? Is it true that you love me, and that you deign to rely -upon me in the difficult passages of life? Is it conceivable that I am -henceforth happy and blest among women, and that I have the right to -raise my head and bask openly in the sunlight of love and -self-sacrifice! Ah, God, I thank Thee for all the gifts and joys and -blessings Thou dost bestow upon me to-day, in the revered and adored -person of my sublime beloved! All my efforts shall be directed towards -deserving them more and more. All my gratitude is for Thee, my God! - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Wednesday, 3.30 p.m., December 17th, 1851_. - -Do not worry about me, my beloved, for I never love you better or more -tranquilly than when I know you are attending to your family duties and -busying yourself with securing the peace and comfort of your wife and -children. Pray devote yourself entirely to the service of your noble -wife for the time of her sojourn here. Do not deny her any of the little -pleasures that may divert her mind from the heavy trials she has just -undergone. Let my resignation and courage, my consideration and -devotion, help to smooth the rough places of life for her as long as she -remains with you. Give her all the consolation and joy in your power. -Lavish upon her the respect and affection she deserves, and do not fear -ever to wear out my patience and trust in you. - -I see you coming my adored one. Bless you. - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Monday, 3.30 p.m., January 19th, 1852._ - -I had set myself a task, beloved, before writing to you, in order to -earn that sweet reward. I have just completed it, and without further -delay I proceed with my insignificant vapourings, in the intervals of -copying two most interesting stories. I am not writing for your benefit, -but for the pleasure it gives me to babble a few tender words to you in -default of the kisses and caresses I cannot give you at this distance. - -My Victor, as you do not wish me to be sad, and hate to feel that I am -unhappy, and dread the sight of my pain, you must adopt the habit of -telling me everything frankly and under all circumstances. Your -deceptions, however trivial and kindly meant, hurt me far more than the -harshest of truths (if you were capable of harshness towards any -creature). I declare this without bitterness and in the form of an -appeal, my beloved. Do not hide anything from me. Try to manage that -your answers to the admiring letters certain women address to you, -should be written at my house rather than elsewhere. Do not delay -telling me things until I have guessed them for myself, or circumstances -have betrayed them. No hints can be unimportant where jealousy is -concerned, and there is no happiness without complete confidence. -Therefore, my beloved, I implore you with all the urgency my soul is -capable of, to tell me everything--even the ownership of those _opera -glasses_, and about the _Hgelmann_ notes, of which I have several here, -forwarded from Belle-le, and certain names and addresses; and about -those actresses you protect with so much solicitude, and the -machinations of the bluestockings who apply to you for mysterious -nocturnal interviews, under pretext of enlisting your pity or your -literary sympathy--about Mdlle. Constance, too, in spite of her -significant name and reassuring age. I want to know everything--I must -know everything, if you are really concerned for my peace of mind, and -health, and happiness. Then I shall become calm, patient, happy; my -pulse will beat evenly, I shall grow fat and smiling. Does not all that -make it worth while for you to be frank, loyal, and ever faithful -towards me? - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Monday, 1 p.m., March 22nd, 1852_. - -You may give me something to copy for you now if you like. I have nearly -finished that foolish scrawl, so if you want to utilise my time, you can -send me anything you like. I am quite at your disposal. Meanwhile, I am -mending your underlinen and my own, and watching the clouds sail above -my narrow horizon. I envy them without having the courage to follow -their example and allow myself to be driven by chance winds or caprice. -I am too lazy, bodily and mentally, to move. I recline in my chimney -corner, cosily humped up, and my soul lies torpid within me. I am not -exactly unhappy, neither am I sad in the true meaning of the word--but I -am uneasy and depressed. I feel a threatening influence in the -atmosphere about me. What it is, I cannot precisely say, but I am under -some evil thrall. I am sure there is a mystery between us that you are -trying to conceal, and that fate will force me to discover sooner or -later. Perhaps it would be safer not to try to hide things from me--it -would certainly be more loyal and generous; but as neither prayers nor -tears can induce you to give me your full confidence, I will await my -fate with resignation. After all, as long as you arrange your life to -suit your own feelings and tastes, I have no right to complain. I have -never meant to force myself upon you in any case; therefore, my Victor, -whatever happens, you may be sure I shall place no obstacle in the way -of your happiness and glory. I love you with all the pride of my -inferiority. - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Sunday morning, July 18th, 1852_. - -Good-morning, my Victor. I will do exactly as you like. So long as my -love is not called into question, what does it matter how, and when, my -body changes its _habitat_ and moves from Brussels to Jersey? Therefore, -my Victor, I make no objection to starting at the same time as you. -Between the pain of a twenty-four hours' separation, and the -mortification of travelling with you as a total stranger, my poor heart -would find it hard to choose. It is quite natural that I should -sacrifice myself to appearances, and respect the presence of your sons -by this painful incognito, but it seems cruelly unjust and ironical that -it should be required of my devotion and fidelity and love, when it was -never thought of in the case of that other woman, whose sole virtue -consisted in possessing none. For her, the family doors were always -open, the deference and courteous protection of your sons exacted; your -wife extended to her the cloak of her consideration, and accepted her as -a friend, a sister, and more. For her, indulgence, sympathy, -affection--for me, the rigorous application of all the penalties -contained in the code of prejudice, hypocrisy, and immorality. Honours -for the shameless vices of the society lady--only indignities for the -poor creature who sins through honest devotion and love. It is quite -simple. Society must be considered. I will leave for Jersey when and how -you will. - -I am quite ready to copy for Charles. I fear he may find my bad writing -more tiresome than useful, but I shall do my best, and I will get some -better pens. He had better send me the manuscript as soon as possible. -From now till then I am, my Victor, at your absolute disposal. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Thursday, 9 a.m., December 2nd, 1852_. - -Good morning, my divine, adored love. When one considers what the -infamous trap laid for you on December 2nd has inspired you to write, -one is tempted to give thanks to Providence. It almost seems as if that -dastardly crime had been committed for the aggrandisement of your -renown, and the better instruction of the nations. I do not think any -scoundrel will ever be found bold enough to repeat the offence, after -reading your fulminating poems. Just a year ago, on this day and at this -hour, I learnt the news of the _Coup d'tat_ through poor Dillon. -Knowing how closely it concerned me, the worthy creature rushed to my -house from the Faubourg St. Germain to warn me, and place her services -at my disposal, which meant at yours, for she is a brave, noble woman. -From that moment until the day I received your dear letter from Brussels -announcing your safety, I lived in a state of nightmare. I only woke -again to life and happiness when I found myself in your arms on the -morning of December 14th in the Customs shed at Brussels. Since then, my -beloved Victor, my sublime Victor, I have never let a day pass without -thanking God for rescuing you so miraculously, nor have I ceased for one -minute to admire and adore you. - -JULIETTE. - -[Illustration: DRAWING BY VICTOR HUGO, SIGNED "TOTO." - -Unpublished, belonging to the Author.] - -[Illustration: THE FLOWER AND THE BUTTERFLY. - -Drawing by Victor Hugo for Juliette (Victor Hugo Museum).] - - -JERSEY, -_Friday, 9 a.m., December 3rd, 1852_. - -Good morning, my life, my soul, my joy, my happiness. - -Dear adored one, from yesterday until the 14th of this month, there is -not a moment that does not recall to me the dangers you were exposed to -a year ago,[104] and the terrors and inexpressible anguish I endured all -through those awful ten days. A year ago, at this very hour of the -morning, you stood in the Faubourg St. Antoine, alone, holding and -challenging a frantic mob lost to all sense of reason and restraint. I -can see you now, my poor beloved, calling upon the soldiers to remember -their duty and their honour, threatening the generals, withering them -with your contempt. You were terrible and sublime. You might have been -the Genius of France witnessing in an agony of bitter despair, the -accomplishment of the most cowardly and despicable of crimes. It is an -absolute miracle that you escaped alive from that spot which echoed with -the solitary force of your heroic fury. When I think of it I still feel -terrified and dazzled. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Saturday, 8 a.m., November 27th, 1852_. - -Good morning, my poor flayed, mutilated darling. How I pitied you -yesterday during the long-drawn-out massacre of your masterpiece,[105] -which however, like an Immortal, emerged from the ordeal finer and in -better fettle than ever. As for me, my treasure, I could only admire and -envy your heroic impassivity in the face of that frightful profanation. -I could hardly sit still, so vexed and irritated did I feel at the -audacity of those wretched strolling mountebanks. Yet Heaven knows how -hard they must have worked to be even as ridiculous as they were. One -cannot be really angry with them, but it is impossible to recall them -individually without laughing till the tears run down one's cheeks. That -is what I have been doing ever since I came out of that horrible little -theatre, for I did not sleep very much. My thoughts were busy with you, -my adored one; I was seeing you again in imagination, handsome, young, -triumphant, as you were at the original performance of your _Anglo_. I -felt all the tenderness and adoration of those old days surging up again -in my heart. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Monday, 8 a.m., December 29th, 1852_. - -Good morning, my too-dearly loved little man. I am cleverer than you, -for I do not need lenses, paper, chemicals, and sunshine, to reproduce -you in every form within my heart. Love is a splendid stereoscope; it -throws all the photographs and daguerreotypes in the world, into the -shade. It can even, if the need exist, convert black jealousy into white -confidence, and force into relief the smallest modicum of happiness, -the slightest mark of love. That being so, I hardly know why I desire so -ardently to multiply your dear little pictures around me, unless it is -that I wish to compare them with those of my inner shrine. Whatever be -the reason, I do implore you, my dear little man, to give me one as soon -as possible; it will be such a pleasure to me. Meanwhile my poor -persecuted hero, I cannot tell what trials the future may have in store -for you, but as long as a breath of life remains within me, I mean to -expend it in defending, guarding, and serving you. My faith in the power -of my love amounts to superstition; I feel that so long as I care for -you, nothing irretrievably bad can happen to you. This is neither pride -nor fatuousness on my part; it is a sort of intuition that comes to me, -I think, from Heaven above. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_9 p.m., Thursday, January 6th, 1853_. - -If the soul could take visible shape, you would perceive mine at this -moment, my sweet adored one, bending over you and smiling. If kisses had -wings, you would feel them swooping about your dear little person in -clouds, like joyous birds upon a beautiful flowering bush. -Unfortunately, my soul and kisses have to pass and repass before you -invisible, and perhaps even unsuspected by you. But that does not deter -me, and I am drawn irresistibly to you by the need of living in your -atmosphere. My thoughts sit boldly at your side wherever you are. -However my chastened personality may bend under the contempt and -disdain of the world, my love rears itself proudly in the consciousness -of its superiority. While you leave my body standing outside, it enters -hardily with you and leaves you not. This may not be very tactful of me, -but it is the mark of an ardent and loyal heart. And after all we are -living "on an Island." I can see you, making eyes at your neighbour on -the left, and signalling to the one opposite. I want you to be mine -absolutely, body and soul, and I do not mean to share one little bit of -you with anybody. You must make up your mind to that, and content -yourself with enjoying the cosmopolitan cookery of that Hungarian -Lucullus.[106] I will allow you to gorge like four Englishmen and drink -like one Pole, but I shall not take my eyes off you and shall watch your -every movement. I think you laugh a great deal for a grave man with a -handsome mouth, and your hands are enough to bring a blush of envy to -the paws of all those exiled females! They suffer by comparison--so much -the better! Hold your tongue, drink, turn your head my way at once, and -keep it there. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Tuesday, 12.30 p.m., February 1st, 1853_. - -I really mean what I said just now, my dear little boy. Instead of -posing interminably in front of the daguerreotype,[107] you could quite -well have taken me for a walk if you had wanted to. Anyhow, pretexts for -keeping away from me will never fail you, and the fine weather will now -add many to those already on your list. Therefore I ask you in all good -faith, what use am I to you in this island, apart from my functions of -copyist? I do not wish to reopen this eternal discussion in which you -never tell me the truth, yet I shall never cease to protest against a -state of things so foreign to true love, and so little conducive to my -happiness. And now, my dear little man, you may amuse yourself, and make -daguerreotypes, and enjoy the glorious sunshine in your own way. I, for -my part, shall make use of solitude, desertion, and shadow, to bring to -a head an attack of depression which will easily develop into a great -big sorrow. I shall study how to make the most of it. Meanwhile I smile -prettily at you, after the fashion of a stage dancer executing the final -pirouette which has exhausted her strength and left her breathless. -Brrrr.... Long live Toto! Long live worries and all their kith and kin! -Long live love! - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Thursday, 9 p.m., April 28th, 1853_. - -I come to you, my beloved, as you are unable to return to me this -evening. I come to tell you I love you without regret for the past or -fear for the future. I come to you with a smile on my lips and a -blessing in my bosom, with my hand upon my mutilated heart and my eyes -full of pardon, with my purity restored and my soul redeemed by twenty -years of fidelity and love, with my delusions swept away and my faith -shining. I come to you without rancour, sustained by divine hope. I -come with the maternal devotion and the passionate tenderness of a -lover, with a mind instinct with reverence and admiration, a resignation -and piety like to those of God's martyrs, and I constitute you the -supreme arbiter of my fate. Do with me what you will in this life, so -long as you take me with you in the next. I sacrifice my feelings to the -virtue of your wife and the innocence of your daughter, as a homage and -a safeguard, and I reserve my prayers and tears for poor fallen women -like myself. Lastly, my adored one, I give you my share of Paradise in -exchange for your chances of hell, considering myself fortunate to have -purchased your eternal bliss with my eternal love. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Thursday, 5 p.m., July 7th, 1853_. - -Whatever you may say, my sweet one, to retard the gradual cessation of -my daily yarns, you cannot stay the progress of the natural law, even -when assisted by my passive submission to your will. Why continue this -custom of writing to you twice a day, when the pretext for doing so has -faded from our joint lives? If I were a woman of parts, I could -substitute imagination and shrewd observation for love-making; but as -these are entirely lacking in me, I have nothing to record in those -bulletins where kisses and caresses once occupied the chief place. Now, -when I have said good morning and alluded to the state of the weather, I -have nothing more to say, because I am stupid. Your influence alone can -extract what is in my heart. For this reason, my dear one, these -scribbles became blank and aimless, from the moment the happiness that -once dictated them began to die away and degenerate into a friendship -despoiled of all pleasure and voluptuousness. I do not reproach you, my -adored one, any more than I reproach myself for not being still the -woman you loved beyond everything--still it might be better to -discontinue this daily record of the change, and to give up the piteous -babblings which no longer have even the excuse of wit. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Saturday, 2.30 p.m., September 24th_. - -How one's brain scintillates from living for ever within four walls! -What sparkling and varied incidents one experiences in this existence of -a squirrel in a cage! For my part I am so inspired by it that I hardly -know where to commence. Let us, therefore, proceed in due sequence; my -cat, which has been slumbering for the last two hours on its right ear, -has just turned over on to its left. - -Pre Nicotte, abandoning the ploughshare, announces for Thursday, -September 29th, the sale by auction of three fat hogs, a sow with her -eight sucking pigs, three yearling bulls, another rising two, and other -items too numerous and too peculiar to enumerate. - -Births: August 5th. Blanche Laura, daughter of Mr. Harper Richard Hugo. - -The annual dinner of the Society will take place on the above-mentioned -day. Those intending to be present, and those proposing to furnish fruit -for the same, are urgently requested to send in their names on or -before the preceding Saturday. - -What more do you want? Eleven pigs, not including the sow, three -yearling bulls, not including the one rising two, a daughter of your -own, and permission to invite yourself to a dinner of the Society, and -even to furnish the fruit for it. If all this does not attract you and -stir the very marrow of your bones, and tempt your appetite, you must be -dead to the promptings of sensibility, paternity, and sensuality. In -that case, go to bed and to sleep, and leave me to myself--the more so, -as I do not happen to possess an accommodating table,[108] to furnish me -with ready-made apparitions. Remember, I have to be my own Dante, sop, -and Shakspere, whereas you catch the dead fish that the spirits of the -other world attach to your lines--a proceeding practised in the -Mediterranean long before those tittle-tattling tables were thought of. -Pray accept my most tender sentiments. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Sunday, 10 a.m., January 1st, 1854_. - -I love you so much, my darling, that I cannot find anything else to say -to you. My poor spirit is ready to give way under the weight of too much -love, like a bough bending under an abnormal show of fruit; but my heart -has strength enough to bear without flinching the infinite tenderness, -admiration, and adoration I feel for you. - -What a letter, my adored one! I read it with my heart in my eyes. It -seemed to penetrate word by word like sun-rays into the very marrow of -my bones. My Victor, your hopes are mine, your will, mine, your faith, -mine; I am what you deserve that I should be; I live only for you and in -you. To love you, serve you, reverence you, adore you, are my only -aspirations in this world. Where you are, I shall be; where you -struggle, I shall watch; when you suffer I shall pray, when you are -threatened I will defend you, save you, or die. I tell you all this -pell-mell and anyhow, my adored Victor, for it is impossible for me to -discipline my thoughts when they fly in your direction--they are less -amenable to common sense than to my heart and soul, which are in ecstasy -since this morning. I know not what trials may still be in store for -you, my sublime, persecuted love, but I can answer for my own courage -and devotion to you. Like you I associate our two angels with all my -prayers and hopes and joys and love. I constitute them your guardian -angels and to them I confide your life, that is, mine, your heart, that -is, my happiness. I send you enough kisses to make a connecting-rod from -my mouth to yours. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Monday, 7.30 p.m., July 21st, 1856_. - -It shall not be said that your adored name ever appeared before me in -its dazzling nimbus without being saluted by my heart with a triple -salvo of love, oh, my dearly beloved, and without the outpouring of all -the perfume of my soul at your divine feet. Although I am very tired, -almost ill, I cannot let this day pass without giving you my tenderest, -sweetest, most love-laden greetings. Others may bring you flowers and -pay you handsome compliments, but I offer you twenty-three years of -tried fidelity free of human stain. It is all I have to bestow--it may -be insignificant, but it is my all. Such a thing cannot be bought; it is -accounted among the treasures of God. In His keeping you will find it, -when the gifts of Heaven shall replace those of Earth. Meanwhile, to -show you that I still belong to this sphere, I send you my beautiful -violet robe brocaded with gold; but I specially stipulate that it should -form part of the decoration of your own room, rather than that you -should hang it in the gallery. Still, if you prefer to use it elsewhere -I leave you free to do as you like, for your pleasure is my sole desire. -You must not imagine that my generosity is entirely disinterested, -because that would be a great mistake. I am sure you would not wish to -remain in my debt, and that you will therefore give me a little drawing -for your birthday. This is my request--now bring me your cheeks that I -may kiss them without stint, and do be discreet to-night with the women -who will come to offer you birthday greetings! Keep your heart entire -and intact for me. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Friday, 1.45 p.m., December 12th, 1856._ - -Adored one, I am sending Suzanne to get news of your dear little sick -child.[109] Although night is coming on, I hope I may get a good report; -this weather is enough to give an attack of nerves to anybody at all -disposed that way. You saw Suzanne yourself, my darling, yet someone is -knocking--fancy if it should be you! It is! What happiness! - -How good, how ineffably good you are, dear kind father, to have come -yourself to reassure me about the little feverish symptoms that are -beginning to show themselves to-night in your little girl's condition. -Let us hope they will yield to remedies this time, and that the night -may prove more calm and satisfactory than the day just passed. Meanwhile -thank you with all my heart, thank you with all my soul, for allowing me -to share your family hopes and fears and joys and troubles. Thank you. -If God hears and grants my prayers, as I trust with sacred confidence He -will, your adored child will soon be restored to health and happiness. - -JULIETTE. - -GUERNSEY, -_Monday, 7.30 p.m., April 13th, 1857_. - -If you say another word I shall seize them all,[110] so there! I shall -certainly not place my house, my rooms, my old age, my tables, chairs, -carpets, water, ink, my virtue, great and small, at your disposal, to be -rewarded by seeing masterpieces pass under my very nose on their way to -Teleki, Mademoiselle Alix, and other trollops of her calibre. I must -have some too; castles, moonlight scenes, sunrises, and fog effects. If -you are not prepared for a quarrel, you must give me at least my share. -Ah, here you come! I am not sorry to see you.... - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Saturday, 4 p.m., July 1st, 1857_. - -Darling beloved, I begin my letter in the hope of its being interrupted -shortly, and completed this evening with a lighter heart; but I so need -to love you that I must take the initiative, my adored one. I have just -read the sad, tender poems you gave me to copy. I see you coming.... - -_8.45 p.m._ - -I have just finished copying those adorable verses, so poignant through -their very restraint,[111] and I weep for my own grief as well as yours, -my poor afflicted friends. The shadow which has fallen across your lives -is black night in my case, for all the radiant joys of family life were -wiped out with the death of my only child. When I think of my forlorn -infancy bereft of father and mother, and of what my deathbed will be, -without the loving tears of a child of my own, I feel as if a curse were -laid upon me for the expiation of some hideous crime. Yet, oh God, I am -not ungrateful to Thee, far from it; I feel indeed with the deepest -gratitude of heart and soul how good Thou art! May you be as greatly -blest as you are loved by me, my Victor. You are divinely grand and -sublime. I kiss your dear little feet and your angel's wings. I worship -you on my knees. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Tuesday, 2.30 p.m., July 2nd, 1857_. - -Yes, since you wish to hear it, I love you, my little man; but I could -demonstrate it much more intelligently by working something for you on -canvas, than by daubing this poor little sheet of paper with -hieroglyphics. If perchance death should surprise us before you have -destroyed these crude ebullitions of my heart, inquisitive folk will -experience keen disappointment; they will find it difficult to -distinguish the traces of an overmastering passion in such a petty mind -as mine. I hope you will be provident enough and generous enough to -spare me this humiliation beyond the grave, by burning gradually all -those poor letters that are so ineffective the moment they have crossed -the threshold of my soul. Meanwhile I continue to obey you with entire -submission, and my love for you is greater than your genius--that is to -say, I love you, love you, love you, without being able to find anything -to compare with the magnitude of my infatuation. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Saturday, 8 p.m., December 19th, 1857_. - -Although unwell and fatigued, my beloved Victor, I cannot leave this -little home where we have loved each other, without penning a grateful -farewell for all the felicity it has sheltered during the year I have -lived in it. I trust I may be as happy in my beautiful new house as I -have been here in my hovel. The sadness I feel to-day is nearer akin to -nerves than to real sorrow. Please forgive it, my adored Victor, if you -have misunderstood and thought for a single instant that you were to -blame for it. Far from reproaching you for the difficulties of my -situation, I admire your ineffable kindness and bless you from the -bottom of my heart for all the trouble you are taking to house me -handsomely. It was difficult, but of what are you not capable when you -set your mind to a thing? I think without affecting the false modesty of -a collector, that you have succeeded, and I thank you with all the -strength of my loving soul, which asks no better than to be happy in the -new paradise you have just prepared for me. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Friday, 11 a.m., July 16th, 1858_. - -My beloved, my beloved, my beloved, what sin have we committed that God -should strike us so cruelly in your health and my love! Unless it be a -crime to love you too much, I do not feel guilty of aught. What shall I -do, my God, what will become of me! Victor ill and away from me! I dread -lest, as I write, you should almost hear my sobs and guess at my -despair, from these reckless words. - -I had anticipated this trouble and thought myself able to face it. I -know it is imperatively necessary that you should remain at home, yet my -whole being rebels at this separation as at a cruel injustice, and the -greatest misfortune of my life. Why, why, why am I like this, oh, my -God? Yet I possess courage, Thou knowest! Thou knowest also that I -desire his speedy recovery and love him with a devoted, illimitable -love. My adored Victor! Why then, is the reason of this gloomy and -profound despair which robs me of strength and reason? Oh, God, dost -Thou hate me? Have my offences been graver than those of other women -like me, that Thou shouldst chastise me so mercilessly! Oh, I suffer, -Victor, I love you, I am wretched! - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Saturday, Noon, July 24th, 1858_. - -Another short spell of courage and patience, my poor gentle martyr, and -your deliverance will be complete. The doctor has just assured me so. I -shall soon be able to rejoice at your convalescence without the poignant -dread of a frightful disaster mingling itself with my joy. In the -delirious delight this good news gave me, I kissed the doctor's kindly -hands, which have become sacred to me since they have ministered to you. -The poor man was surprised and moved by my emotion, and looked quite -embarrassed--almost shy of my gratitude--but I was proud of it. Why -should not a woman kiss the hands that have saved the life of the man -she adores, when so many men kiss the idle fingers of the women who -betray them. - -Rosalie arrived a few minutes after the doctor, to fetch your egg, and -found me weeping and smiling. I explained the reason to her. The girl -has surprised me in tears so often that I fear she will take me for a -cry-baby by temperament, though God knows, I do not lay claim to -hyper-sensitiveness. But how could I have remained calm during your -long, painful illness. For, my beloved, one can afford to admit now, -that you have been in grave danger the last twelve days. Happily all is -over, you are saved and I thank God on my knees and adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Wednesday morning, August 4th, 1858_. - -At last, at last, at last, beloved, I have reached the blessed moment -when I shall see you again! I am so happy that words and breath fail me. -Oh, my adored one, how have I managed to live so far away and separated -from you for so long! Three weeks ago I should have thought such a -sacrifice beyond my strength, yet to-day I am almost afraid I am seeing -you too soon; for my solicitude takes fright at the idea of any -imprudence that might augment or prolong the sufferings you have only -just overcome. The worthy doctor assures me there is no risk for you in -the short walk from your house to mine, but I have been so wretched -during your illness, and I love you so much, that my heart knows not to -whom to hearken. My beloved, my joy, my life, my happiness, be prudent! -I adore you, I await you, my love. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Monday, 8 a.m., June 13th, 1859_. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET'S HAND.] - -Good morning, my adored one. I say it with all the tenderness which had -to be disguised owing to the presence of your kind and charming son, -during the lovely fortnight we have spent at Sark. Everything there was -a feast for mind and heart. One thing only was lacking for my complete -happiness; freedom to love you aloud and in all frankness. Now there -need be no obstacle to the passionate expansion of my soul, but it is in -the silence and solitude of my house, without the joys, smiles, -sparkling wit, and poetical atmosphere you and your son spread before -my dazzled eyes, during the splendid fortnight I spent with you both; so -true is it that one cannot have everything at the same time here below, -and that perfect happiness is attained only in Heaven. But while our two -souls are travelling thither, the one assisting the other, I am grateful -to God for the radiant fortnight He has just given me. I thank Him with -a full heart, and beseech Him to repay you and your dear Charles with as -many fruitful and glorious years as you have given me days of happiness -in the tender intimacy of Sark. As usual, my words are inadequate to -express my feelings, but you will understand, my beloved, and restore -the balance between the two. - -I hope you spent a good night, my sweet love. I am waiting for you to -give you as many kisses as you are able to carry. Until then I adore you -with all my soul. - - -_Tuesday, June 14th._ - -May God preserve you from all evil, my beloved, and permit my love and -blessing to constitute the whole happiness of your life. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Thursday, 4.30 p.m., February 16th, 1860_. - -You sat at this very spot just now, my sweet love, writing in my little -red book, (record of our love), the very things my own heart feels and -would have dictated to you, could it have spoken aloud--so certain is it -that my life belongs absolutely to you, and that my thoughts take birth -from your glances. Like you, I have faith in our radiant future in the -life beyond; like you, I pray to die as near you as possible, cradled in -your arms, whenever it please Heaven. If I hearkened only to the voice -of my selfishness, I should plead that it might be now, but I am too -conscious of the sublime mission you are called upon to accomplish -towards humanity in this world, to dare put up such an impious petition. -I will wait bravely, patiently, reverently, in prayer and adoration, -until it please God to call us unto Himself. - - -_Thursday evening, 7.30._ - -I resume my scribble where I left it when you came back this afternoon, -my darling beloved--not to add anything of value, but to continue for my -own pleasure the sweet dialogue between my heart and my love. I thank -you for our dear twenty-seventh anniversary, which you made memorable by -words so luminous and a tenderness so penetrating and sacred. I thank -you for myself, whose pride and joy and veneration you are; I thank you -on behalf of my nephew and his family, for the immense honour you have -conferred upon them by writing to their son. Lastly, my beloved, I kiss -your feet, your hands, your lips, your eyes, your brow, and I only cease -through fear of wearying you by this over-flow of caresses. - -I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -MONT ST. JEAN, -_Monday, 8 p.m., June 17th, 1861_. - -Dearly beloved. Whilst you are expanding among the tender delights of -family life, I am invoking all my physical and moral strength to -prevent myself giving way under the sadness of your absence. As long as -my eyes could distinguish the omnibus, that is to say, as far as the -_Betterave Renaissante_, I watched your progress along the Gronendael -road. Beyond that point, I was forced to relinquish the sweet illusion -that I could still see the dear little black speck on the horizon, and -to acknowledge that nothing lay before me but the endless void of your -twenty-four hours' absence. So, as I did not know what to do with myself -or how to kill time, I walked by a fairly easy field-path as far as the -church at Waterloo, and came back by way of the village, without however -visiting the church, notwithstanding the pressing invitation of an old -woman who called me her dear friend. I got back to the hotel at six -o'clock precisely, and spent the half hour before dinner freshening -myself up by washing from head to foot; then I put on a dressing-gown -and went down to our little dining-room, where I ate without hunger and -drank without thirst, so dismal and forlorn am I when you are no longer -present. I must have been pretty fully convinced of the impossibility of -accompanying you to Brussels without exposing your movements to -undesirable criticism, to accept the sad alternative of remaining here -alone. But that certainty is no comfort whatever, and I am just as -miserable as if it had been in my power to make the expedition with you. -Certainly, human respect is a horrid beast, more malevolent and worrying -than even midges and their poisonous sting, and all the ammonia in the -world is powerless against it. - -I am well fitted to make the comparison seeing that my arm is already -healed, while my heart suffers more and more. Dear adored one, do try, -on your part, to spend profitably this interval which is costing me so -dear. Be happy; I love you, bless you, and adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Tuesday, 8 a.m., February 17th, 1863_. - -Good morning, my beloved. In full daylight and glorious sunshine, in -love and happiness, good morning. Again I greet you, like that first day -thirty years ago, when my eyes followed you along the Boulevard after -you left me. My soul winged flights of kisses to you when you looked -round for one more glance at my window before turning into the Rue du -Temple. That picture remains for ever graven upon my mind; I can assert -with truth that everything remains the same in my heart as the night I -first became yours. These thirty years of love have passed like one day -of uninterrupted adoration, and I feel now younger, more virile, and -more capable of loving you, than ever before--heart, body, soul, all are -yours, and live only by you and through you. I smile upon you, bless -you, adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Sunday, 10.30 a.m., April 26th, 1863_. - -Good morning, unutterably dear one. May all the blessings of heaven and -earth rest upon you and those you love. I slept very well and hope you -did the same. My headache has gone and I feel as sturdy as an oak-tree. -I do not in the least desire a great house whence I shall not be able to -see you in the mornings, and I should much prefer to keep my own little -perch upon which my heart poises so happily while I watch you moving -about your home. Having made my protest, beloved, you shall dictate to -me the letter I must write to notify the landlord that he need not move -out to-morrow. We can settle when you come, what time I must be ready, -so as not to lose one second of our little walk up the hill. I am so -happy at the thought of remaining near you, that I feel as if I had -already substituted youthful wings for my old legs. Even my garden is -gay, and cries out to me by the mouths of its lovely flowers: _don't go -away_! Health is where happiness is, and happiness means loving each -other, side by side, eyes upon eyes, soul with soul. Therefore, I shall -stay here. That is quite settled. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Friday, 7.30 a.m., October 30th, 1863_. - -Good morning, good morning, and again, good morning, my dear, wide-awake -person. You must be very well to-day, judging by the energy with which -you are shaking your rugs to the four winds. I hope that signifies a -good night, good health, lively love, and all the rest of it. As for -myself, I slept little, but soundly. I got up before gun-fire this -morning, and had already finished my dressing when I saw you on your -balcony. What a privation it will be for me, my adored man, when I can -no longer watch you in the mornings, moving about your house. I do not -feel as if I should ever get accustomed to it, and I think of it with -apprehension, for there is a proverb that says, "Out of sight, out of -mind." If you gave up loving me, or worse, loved me less, what should I -make of life in that great empty drawing-room? - -At this moment, I am trying to numb these reflections by the -contemplation of the marvels you are creating in that future house of -mine; but at the bottom of my heart, I know I shall always mourn this -poor little lodging, where my eyes could watch over you, caress you, -guard you, preserve you, and adore you. The more I think of it, the more -oppressed I feel, and the more I blame myself for having exchanged the -happiness of every moment, for a comfort I shall hardly have leisure to -appreciate, and for health which did not require amelioration. My poor -beloved, forgive these regrets which are only dictated by love, and this -anxiety which also means love. Try not to let the separation of our -houses entail that of our hearts; try to love me as heartily there as -here, and do not let yourself be enticed away from me by anybody. On -those conditions I promise to live happily in the splendid rooms you -have prepared for me. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Wednesday, 1.30 p.m., June 15th, 1864_. - -Dearly beloved, I cannot forsake this little home where we have loved -each other for eight years, without imprinting a kiss of gratitude upon -its threshold. I have just gazed my supreme farewell at your beautiful -house, which has so long been to me the polar star of my heart's -wanderings. Alas, I am lengthening out the moments as much as possible; -I cannot bring myself to leave this dear little house, which I had made -the shrine of my cult for you. I should like to carry away the walls -against which you have leaned, the floors you have trodden, and even the -dust your feet have spurned. I fear lest my sadness be observed by those -who cannot understand it, and the efforts I make to seem unconcerned -increase the constriction of my heart, and drench my eyes with tears. -Oh, my adored beloved, how you will have to love me and give me all the -time at your disposal, to console me for the immense grief I am -experiencing to-day in quitting your neighbourhood, that is to say, in -losing sight of it! How you will have to double and treble and quadruple -your love, to replace the dear memories I leave behind me! May God -protect me and may the dear souls of our angels follow us to the new -home, and bless us till our last hour! - -I adore you. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Thursday, 5.30 a.m., June 16th, 1864_. - -Where are you, my beloved? My eyes seek you vainly, you are no longer -there to smile upon me; it is all over--I shall never again see the -little roost whence you used to blow kisses and wave your hand so -tenderly. I am alone now in my fine house, alone for ever; for there is -no further chance in this life of having you near me. I shall never -again live in your immediate intimacy, as I have done for the past eight -years. - -Loyally as you may endeavour to bridge over the distance between our -abodes by coming to me oftener in the day-time, the separation of our -two existences must ever endure. I know it by the blank depression I am -feeling this morning. I would give a hundred thousand houses and -palaces, and the universe itself, for that little slice of horizon where -my heart projected itself night and day. I am ashamed of having been so -mean-spirited as to barter my daily happiness against a chimerical -amelioration of health. I am punished for my transgression, my dearest. -I carry death in my heart. Forgive me! I would gladly smile at you, but -at this moment I feel incapable of doing so. Forgive me for loving you -too much. I hope you had a good night. I hope you gazed upon my dark, -empty house and gave it one sigh of regret. I hope you love me and are -conscious of my absence. May God preserve you from all evil, dearly -beloved, and may your love remain whole and intact in severance as in -propinquity. I bless you, and adore you. A kiss to all our dear -memories. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Sunday, 8.30 a.m., June 11th, 1865_. - -It would take very little to make me stay in bed till noon. I am ashamed -of myself and well punished, for I have not seen you this morning, and -have not yet heard whether you had a good or a bad night. I hope you -were clever enough to sleep uninterruptedly from the moment you laid -your head on the pillow, till that of your uprising. I shall be very -glad if I have guessed right. Meanwhile, my sweet treasure, I send you -a smile and a blessing. I am listening at this moment to the joyous -cheeping of my tiny chicks over a saucer of milk that has just been put -before them. I am also watching two white butterflies darting after each -other among my roses, like twin souls in Eden. The flowers are blooming, -love-making is going on all around, and my heart is overflowing with -tenderness and adoration for you. The further I progress in life, the -more I love you; you are the beginning and end of my being. I hope -everything of you, and my soul trusts you, all in all. You are my -radiant and divine beloved. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Sunday, 7.30 a.m., December 2nd, 1866_. - -Good-morning, my adored one, bless you. I can afford to smile on this -date, abhorred of all worthy folk: December 2nd.--because it is, for me -alone, a joyful anniversary. If my gratitude is an offence towards -humanity, I humbly ask pardon of God and man. I am tormented at the -thought that you may have slept badly. If I could be reassured on that -point, I should be quite happy this morning. Unfortunately, I can only -find out much later when you come here to bathe your dear eyes. The -mention of your eyes reminds me of your poor wife's sight. Surely, if -the doctors were not certain of curing her, they would not keep her so -long in Paris, away from all her belongings, in winter weather? My -desire for her complete recovery of a sense of which she has made such -noble use in her beautiful book _Victor Hugo, racont_, makes me look -upon her delay in returning, as a happy presage of future recovery. I -ask it of Heaven, with love. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Wednesday, 8 a.m., January 1st, 1868_. - -I thank you, dearest, for letting me have a share in your prayers, when -you plead to God not to separate us in life or in death. It is what I -pray all day long; it is the aspiration of my heart and the faith of my -soul. I am not a devout woman, my sublime beloved, I am only the woman -who loves and admires and reverences you. To live near you is paradise; -to die with you is the consecration of our love for all eternity. I want -to live and die with you. I, like you, crave it of God. May He grant our -joint prayers! - -I feel as you do, my beloved, that those two dear souls hover above us -and watch over us and bless us. I associate them with all my thoughts -and sorrows and joys, and I place my prayers under their protection, -that they may convey them direct to the foot of the Great White Throne. -I bless them as they bless me, with all that is loftiest and holiest and -most sacred in my soul. I am stopping at almost every line of this -letter to read your adorable one over again, although I already know it -by heart. I kiss it, talk to it, listen to it, and then begin all over -again. I love you. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Thursday, 7 a.m., May 7th, 1868_. - -Dearly beloved, I am rather less worried since I have seen you and -exchanged a kiss with you; yet I know you slept badly. I can feel that -you are ailing and sad. I pray God to give you happiness again as soon -as possible, in the form of a second little Georges all smiling and -beautiful; meanwhile, I beg Him to let my love be the balm that will -heal your wounds, until the day of resurrection of the sweet child for -whom you weep.[112] - -I hope He will hear and grant my petitions on your behalf, and that you -will be restored to some degree of calmness and consolation. When you -write to your two dear sons, Charles and Victor, do not forget, I beg, -to thank them from me for the little portrait. Tell them I love them and -mingle my tears with theirs. - -I adore you, my great one, my venerated one, my sublime mourner. - -J. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Sunday, 7.30 a.m., August 2nd, 1868_. - -Again I have slept better than ever, beloved. I trust it has been the -same with you. I was very proud and pleased at my walk with you and your -family last night, but I felt somewhat shy and ill at ease. Please -permit me to decline any further invitations of the kind. Should the -occasion arise again, which is improbable, I think good taste and -discretion demand that I should hold myself aloof from your family -affections, and only associate myself with them at a distance, or in my -own home. As this feeling, or scruple, whichever you may like to call -it, could not be expressed in the presence of your dear children -yesterday, I consented to go with you, while intending to call your -attention privately to the embarrassment such an incident would cause -me, if it should happen again. I think you will probably agree with me, -and approve of my sacrificing my pleasure to your tender family -intercourse. - -J. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Wednesday, 8.30 a.m., August 26th, 1868_. - -My poor beloved, I pray God to spare you and your dear children the -misfortune which threatens you at this moment in the loss of your -angelic and adorable wife. I hope, I hope, I hope. I pray, I love you, I -summon all our dear angels above to her assistance and yours. I pray God -to make two equal shares of the days remaining to me, and add one to the -life of your saintly and noble wife. My beloved, my heart is wrung, I -suffer all you suffer twice over, through my love for you. I do not know -what to do. I long to go to you, I should love to take my share of the -nursing of your poor invalid, but human respect holds me back, and my -heart is heavier than ever. Suzanne has only just come from your house, -and I already want to send her back again, in the hope that she may -bring me less disquieting news than that which I have just received. Oh, -God have mercy upon us and change our anguish into joy! - - -BRUSSELS, -_Thursday, August 27th, 1868_. - -My beloved, in the presence of that soul which now sees into my -own,[113] I renew the sacred vow I made the first time I gave myself to -you; to love you in this world and in the next, so long as my soul shall -exist, in the certainty of being sanctioned and blessed in my devotion -by the great heart and noble mind which has just preceded us, alas, into -eternity. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Friday, 8 a.m., August 28th, 1868_. - -I placed your sleep last night under the protection of your dear one, my -beloved, and implored her to remove from your dreams all painful -memories of the sad day just past. I hope she heard me and that you -slept well. Henceforth, it is to this gentle and glorious witness of -your life in this world, now your radiant protectress in Heaven, that I -will appeal for the peace and happiness you require, to finish the great -humanitarian task to which you have pledged yourself. May God bless her -and you, as I bless her and you. - -The more I think over to-night's mournful journey, the more convinced I -feel that I ought not to take part in it. The pious homage of my heart -to that great and generous woman must not be exposed to a wrong -interpretation by indifferent or ill-natured critics. We must make this -last sacrifice to human malignity, in order to have the right to love -each other openly afterwards; do you not agree, my beloved? Afterwards, -may nothing ever come between us here below, nor above--such is my -ardent desire! - -J. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Friday, 5.30 p.m., August 28th_. - -My heart and thoughts are with you and your beloved dead. I am sad and -heart-broken, not for the angelic and sublime woman who now shines out -in the world of spirits while we here below regret her, but for you, my -poor sad man, to whom she was a holy and meek companion; for your dear -children whose joy and pride she was; for myself, to whom she was ever a -discreet and considerate protectress. - -My heart is torn by your grief, my poor afflicted ones; my eyes rain all -the tears you are shedding. Dear treasure, I beg your wife to obtain for -you the courage you need. May her memory remain with you, sweet and -gentle and benign as was her exquisite person in life. I entrust you to -her as I confide myself to you, and I bless you both. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Tuesday, 2 p.m., February 1st, 1870_. - -Since I have seen you, my great beloved, I am feeling much better. Your -smile has completed my cure. It may be an illusion of my eyes and heart, -but at this moment I seem to feel the breath of spring. Perhaps it -proceeds from the nearness of the anniversary of the first performance -of _Lucrce Borgia_, which is to be acclaimed and applauded by an -enthusiastic public to-morrow night, just as it was thirty-seven long -years ago. Bonaparte may do his best to-morrow against this magnificent -play, he will get no good out of his police-engineered cabal. I think he -will hardly dare risk such an infamous attempt, but I wish it was -already Saturday, that we might be quite easy. Meanwhile, I love you -after the fashion of Princesse Ngroni. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Monday, 8.30 a.m., February 14th, 1870_. - -Good morning, my dearest. Did you sleep better last night, my great, -little man? Were you warmer? How are you this morning? It is indeed -tedious to have to wait until this afternoon to hear all this. I am -trying to moderate my impatience by doing things for you. I have already -selected your two eggs, put fresh water into your finger-bowl, and a -snow-white napkin on your plate. Suzanne is making your coffee, which -perfumes the whole house, while I trace these gouty old -"pattes-de-mouche," which are to lay all the tender nonsense of my heart -at your feet. I am beginning early, as you see, to be certain that they -arrive in time. The thaw has begun. I was quite hot in the night, though -I must admit I had taken measures to that end; so I slept excellently, -as you can judge by the state of my spirits. But what I really want you -to take note of is, that I adore you. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Saturday, 7.45 a.m., May 21st, 1870_. - -My heart, my eyes, my soul, are bewildered, my beloved, so overwhelmed -are they with tenderness, admiration, and happiness! What an adorable -letter, and what a marvellous surprise! How good you are to me! How -generous and charming! Words fail me, and the best I can say is: I love -you! I love you! I threw my arms around old Mariette's neck, and almost -embraced Marquand himself in the delirium of my delight. What a splendid -frame for that lovely little mirror! It contains everything: flowers, -birds, a shelf, little Georges' sweet face above, and your beautiful -verses for wings. How can I thank you adequately, or describe my -gratitude? Fortunate am I to have eternity before me in which to bless -you. I kissed my dear little letter before everybody, but I would not -read it until just now when I was able to bolt my door. I always read -you thus, my adored one. My soul demands privacy for the better -understanding of your sublime words, and I never finish the reading of -them without feeling transported with love and almost prepared for the -next world. I love you!! - -Mariette told me you had spent a very good night. Is it really true? I -slept capitally, too, and am feeling more than well. I have been looking -about for a place for my new treasure, but have not yet decided on one. -I shall leave it to you to choose its proper place in my museum of -_souvenirs_. Meanwhile, I have covered it away from the dust and put it -in the shady drawing-room. As soon as I have read your adorable little -letter again, I shall go back and have another look at it. - -J. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO, BY RODIN.] - -GUERNSEY, -_Friday, 5 a.m., August 18th, 1870_. - -At all hazards I must send you my morning greeting, though I trust you -are sleeping too soundly to hear it. You have slept so little and so -badly for many nights, that it would be only fair that this night -should be long and good. As for me, I hardly slept at all, but I do not -mind and am hardly surprised, as it is a habit of mine. But the thing I -feel I cannot become inured to, is the apprehension of the perils you -are about to encounter on your journey to Paris, ranging from the loss -of your wealth to the death of your love for me--either would finish me. -I think with terror of the tortures of all kinds I shall undergo there; -my courage fails me and craves mercy in anticipation. I have fought all -night against the wicked temptation to desert my post in a cowardly -manner before even meeting the enemy--not an enemy that can be fought -with fire and blood, but one that stabs you smiling. But I have not even -the courage of cowardice; I am ready to suffer a thousand deaths if only -I can preserve you from a single danger. You must live at any cost, that -you may be enabled to complete your glorious task, and be happy, no -matter how or with whom. My duty is to devote myself to that end, -whatever betide. If I go under in the execution of it, so much the worse -for me, or possibly, so much the better. To serve you and love you is my -mission in this world--the rest does not concern me. - -J. - - -_Thursday morning, July 20th, 1871_. - -This is your patron-saint's day, my great beloved. Others will -congratulate you with flowers and music and expressions of admiring -gratitude and emotion, but nobody will love you more than I do, or bless -and adore you as you deserve to be loved, blessed and adored! - -I hope this anniversary may be the beginning of a new year less sinister -and sad than the last, and that your dear grandchildren will give you as -much joy and happiness as you have had sadness and misfortune in the -past. I say this hastily, as best I can, with emotion in my old heart -and thrills of joy in my soul. As I sit scribbling, I hear your voice -calling me and I rush towards you just as in the early days of our love. - -I kiss your hair, your eyes, your lips, your hands, your feet. I adore -you. - -JULIETTE. - - -PARIS, -_Thursday, 10.15, January 18th, 1872_. - -Good morning, my great and venerated one. I kiss one by one the wounds -of your heart, praying God to heal those that ache worst. I beg Him to -give me strength to help you carry your heavy cross to the end. I ask -Him, above all, to give me that which, alas, is lacking in my nature, -namely, that infinite gentleness without which the most perfect devotion -is unavailing. Since the day before yesterday, my poor, sublime martyr, -my heart has been wrung by the new blow that has fallen upon you,[114] -and I weep helplessly, without power to check my tears. God Who gave you -genius makes you pay heavy toll for that favour, by overwhelming your -life with the pangs of sorrow. My beloved, I beg you to tell me how I -may serve you. I will do anything you desire. I will use my whole heart -and strength in your service. - -I love you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_8 a.m., Monday, February 26th, 1872_. - -This is your birthday, beloved--the anniversary of anniversaries, -acclaimed in Heaven by the great men of genius who preceded you upon -earth, and blessed by me ever since the day I first gave myself to you. -We used to celebrate it with all the sweetest instruments of love; -kisses, words of endearment, letters, all were pressed into service to -make this date, February 26th, a perfume, an ecstasy, a ray of sunshine. -To-day these winged caresses have flown to other realms, but there -remains to us the solemn devotion that better becomes the sacred -marriage of two souls for all eternity. In the name of that devotion I -send you my tenderest greetings and beg you to let me know how you spent -the night. I hope your little breach of regulations yesterday did not -prevent you from sleeping. As for me, I slept little, but I am quite -well this morning, thanks to the influence of this radiant date. I ask -little Georges and little Jeanne to kiss you for me as many times as you -have lived minutes in this world. My dearly beloved, I bless you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Saturday, 2 p.m., April 13th, 1872_. - -This is a day of sunshine: God, in His Heaven above, and little Jeanne -under my roof. I hardly know--or rather, perhaps I do know which is the -brighter of the two, but I am not going to tell you, for fear of making -you too proud. What a beautiful day, and what an adorable little girl! -But what a pity we cannot all enjoy these spring-time delights together, -walking and driving, in town and country-meadows. I am really afraid the -good God will weary of us and pronounce the fatal dictum: "IT IS TOO -LATE" when at last we make up our minds to take our share of life, -sunshine, and happiness. The terrible part is that whether innocent or -guilty we shall all suffer alike for _your_ transgression, for divine -justice is very like that of man. As for me, I enter my protest from my -little retreat, but it serves no purpose except that of an idle pastime; -it does not even keep me from adoring you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 12 noon, November 18th, 1873_. - -My beloved, I do not desire to turn your successes into a scourge for -your back, but I cannot help feeling that my old-fashioned devotion cuts -a sorry figure amongst the overdressed _cocottes_ who assail you -incessantly with their blandishments and invitations. This fantastic -chase has gone on for a long time without extorting from you any sign of -weariness or satiety. As for me, I long only for repose--if not in this -life (which seems difficult in my case to obtain), then in the -immobility of death, which cannot long be delayed at the pace I am -going. I ask your permission to begin preparing for it by giving up my -daily letters. That will be something gained; the rest will come -gradually, little by little, till one fine day we shall find ourselves -quite naturally on the platform of indifference, or of reason, as you -will prefer to call it. From to-day on, therefore, I place the key of my -heart on your doorstep, and will wander away alone in the direction of -God. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Friday, 11.15 a.m., December 26th, 1873_. - -Dear adored one. All your desires in life, as well as mine, are granted -to-day if your dear Victor has spent a good night, as I hope. I am -anxiously waiting for Mariette's return to know how the dear invalid -is.... - -My poor beloved, I am in despair--I have just seen Mariette, who tells -me that your poor son is in high fever at this moment.[115] I do not -know how to tell you; I do not think I shall have the strength to do so. -Dr. Se has been sent for and Mariette has just gone back to hear what -he thinks of this relapse. Oh, Heaven have mercy on us! I hardly dare -breathe or even weep, so greatly do I dread betraying to you the -misfortune which threatens you, my beloved. How can I ward off the fate -that is hanging over you? What can I say or do? My brain reels! Ought I -to tell you everything--would it be wrong to conceal from you the -imminent sorrow that is going to wring your heart once more? I know not, -but I lack the courage either to speak or to be silent; I am in despair, -yet I dare not make moan. I suffer, I adore you. Pity me, as I pity you. -Let us love each other under this cruel trial, as we should if Heaven -were opening its gates to us. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Monday, 5 o'clock p.m., December 29th, 1873_. - -Go, dearest, try to find in a solitary walk, which may prove fruitful to -the world, some solace for the painful agitation of your heart. My -thoughts follow you lovingly and bless every one of your steps. Do not -worry about me in the new arrangements of your life. Whatever you settle -shall be accepted by me. For forty-one years I have followed that -programme, and I will do so now, more than ever. Provided you love me as -I love you, I desire nothing more from God or you. The advice I give -you, apart from my own personal concerns, is always practical and in -your own interest and that of your dear grandchildren. I should feel I -had failed in my duty if I kept the least of my ideas from you, whether -good or bad, insignificant or stupid. I love you and adore you, body, -heart and soul. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 12.30 p.m., February 17th, 1874_. - -Dear one, there is rather more bustle about us than usual on this our -sweet and sacred anniversary. We have the little excitement of your two -adorable grandchildren, which we had not expected, but which is all the -more delightful for that. The perfection of happiness would have been to -take them ourselves to that famous circus which little Georges already -knows, and little Jeanne dreams of; but the bad weather and the remains -of my influenza counsel a pusillanimous prudence. It is not without -regret, beloved, that I impose this sacrifice of one of our most -precious joys upon you, but I feel I cannot do otherwise to-day. As for -the dear little things, their pleasure will, fortunately, not be marred -in any way. So long as they can revel in the antics of Mr. and Mrs. -Punch and their august family, they will not mind whom they go with. -That being the case, Mariette is a sufficient escort to the promised -land of Auriol and Punch. - -As for ourselves, dearest, I trust that our two souls, communing -together, will not miss those fascinating little witnesses of our love -over much. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Wednesday, 7 p.m., March 11th, 1874_. - -He whose heart is younger than his years suffers all the sorrows of his -age. This aphorism contains in a few words the secret of the turmoil I -involuntarily bring into your life, while I myself suffer like a soul in -damnation. Still, I must not allow this ridiculous folly to be an -annoyance to you; I must and will get the better of it, and leave you -your liberty, every liberty, especially that of being happy whenever and -however you like. Otherwise, my poor beloved, you will very shortly come -to hate the sight of me. I know it, and it terrifies me in anticipation. -So I am determined to crush my heart at all costs, that I may restore -peace and happiness to yours. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Saturday, 1.45 p.m., April 4th, 1874_. - -I thank you dear one, for having been loyal enough to tell me this -morning that you had written another poem to Madame M. I thank you also -for having offered to read it to me, and not to send it to her till -afterwards. I accepted this respite in the first instance, but I -realised later that _what is delayed is not lost_, and that I should -gain nothing by struggling against being bracketed with this _statue -inhabited by a star_, and that I was simply putting myself in the absurd -position of the ostrich that tries to avert danger by hiding his head in -the sand. Therefore beloved, I beg you to act quite freely, and to send -the verses dedicated to your beautiful muse whenever you like. Once the -poetry has been written, it is quite natural that you should intoxicate -each other without consideration for me. Besides, in my opinion, -infidelity does not consist in action only; I consider it already -accomplished by the sole fact of desire. That being settled, my dear -friend, I beg you to behave exactly as you like, and as if I were no -longer in the way. I shall then have leisure to rest from the fatigues -of life before taking my departure for eternity. Try and be happy if you -can. - -J. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1877.] - -PARIS, -_Thursday, 7 a.m., April 11th, 1874_. - -Permit me, my great beloved, to offer you my three-score years and ten, -freshly completed this morning. Give the poor old things a friendly -reception, for they are as blazing with love for you now, as if they had -only been born yesterday. I commission little Jeanne to give you -seventy million kisses for me to-day, not one less, but a few more if -she likes. I hope little Georges' nose has not bled since yesterday, and -that he slept well like the rest of you. I slept like a top, and am -splendid this morning. I feel a degree of youthfulness that must proceed -from the seventy springs I have absorbed so freely. The sky itself -contributes its birthday greeting by pouring its measure of sunshine -upon us. Therefore, long live love, for us in the first place, (for a -little selfishness will not harm happiness,) and in the second, long -live love for all whom we love. May you be blest, my beloved, in all -those you care for. I adore you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Thursday, 10.45 p.m., May 7th, 1874_. - -Dear, dear one, the separation I dreaded as a veritable calamity is now -an accomplished fact. God grant it may not be the beginning of the end -of my happiness. My heart is full of sad presentiment. The distance that -separates us is like a broken bridge between our hearts, over which -neither joy nor hope may pass henceforth. I cherish no illusion; from -this evening forward, all intimacy between us is over, and my sweet -horizon of love is for ever clouded. I try to give myself courage by -reflecting that the happiness I lose is gained by you in the affection -of your two dear grandchildren. I tell myself that this compensation -should be sufficient for me; still I am in despair, and I can hardly -help shedding floods of tears, as if some irreparable misfortune had -befallen me when you walked away just now. I accustomed myself far too -speedily to a happiness that was only lent to me for a little while. -But however short-lived it proved, I bless you, and pray God to turn my -regrets and sorrow into a future of joy and kisses and ecstasy for you -and your two little angels. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_9.30 a.m., Sunday, June 21st, 1874_. - -I had hoped that nothing would happen to disturb the sanctity of this -sad anniversary,[116] and had counted on the assistance of the angels of -death to defend me from the aggressions of the devils of life. Alas, I -was sadly at fault, for never was a more audacious or more cynical -attempt made against my peace of mind. One might think that the mangled -remains of my poor heart were a target for the arrows of those -emissaries of vice! I declare myself vanquished without a fight, and ere -my reason finally succumbs, I mean to place my bruised heart in shelter, -far from the flattering intrigues of which you are the fortunate hero. - - -_3 p.m._ - -You wish me not to be anxious, not to relinquish a tussle in which I am -unarmed? It is more generous than wise on your part, for what happened -to-day, happened yesterday, and will again to-morrow, and I have no -strength left, either physical or moral. This martyrdom of Sisyphus, who -daily raises his love heavenward only to see it fall back with all its -weight upon his heart, inspires me with horror, and I prefer death a -thousand times over, to such torture. Have mercy upon me! Let me go! It -shall be wherever you will. Do not run the risk for yourself and me of -my committing some frightful act of folly. I ask you this in the name of -your daughter and mine--in the name of little Georges and your dear -little Jeanne. Give me a chance to recover from these reiterated -attacks. I assure you it is the only remedy possible, or capable of -effecting my cure. You will hardly notice my absence; the children of -your blood, and those of your genius, and the rest, will easily fill the -void of my absence, and meanwhile I shall regain calmness. I shall -become resigned and perhaps be cured, and in any case it will be a -respite for you as well as for me. I assure you my treasure, that it -will be a good thing for you. I beg you to let me try it. The abuse of -love, like the abuse of health, brings suffering and death in its train. -The soul may have a plethora, as well as the body. Mine suffocates under -its own weight. Let me try to lighten it in solitude and the -contemplation of our past happiness. I beg and implore it of you--I ask -it in the name of those you mourn and love. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Monday, 6 p.m., February 16th, 1875_. - -My dearest, your letter burns and dazzles me, and I feel humbled by it, -because physically I know myself to be so far beneath your ideal; but -morally, when I look inward and see my soul as your love has transformed -it, I am arrogant enough to think myself above it, and to have no fear -of the moment when I may reveal to you its resplendent purity in the -eyes of God. Pending this, sublime and divine treasure of mine, you -must shut your eyes to the sad reality of my old, sickly body, and await -with patience the rejuvenation promised in Heaven. I pray God to allow -me to live as long as you, because I do not know how I could exist a -single minute without you, even in Paradise with our holy angels. I hope -He will grant my ardent prayer, and that we shall die and rise again -together on the same day and at the same hour. To ensure this, I must -put my health on a level with yours, which will be difficult, for I am -very feeble. I try to, every day, without much success so far, but I am -counting on the spring to give me a push up the hill, so that I may -continue to pace the road at your side. This evening, if nobody comes, -and if Madame Charles leaves us early, I shall beg you to let me do _Le -Passus_ with you. I should like to celebrate the day by something brave -and wholesome. I hope I shall manage it. I love you, bless you, and -adore you. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Tuesday, 7.45 a.m., April 21st, 1875_. - -Good morning my great, good, ineffable, adorable beloved. I pray Heaven -to bless you in Heaven as I bless you here below. I hope you slept as -well as I did, that you bear me no grudge for the irritability born of -excessive fatigue, and that you do not love me less on account of it. My -confidence in your inexhaustible indulgence lends me courage to proceed -with the sad business that brought me here.[117] The thought that we -shall never return to these houses of ours, where we loved and suffered -and were happy together, makes my heart as heavy as if we were already -attending our funerals. This fresh break between the sweet past of our -love and the short future that remains to us in this life, makes the -present very painful. But I am not unthankful for the compensations that -await us in Paris in the society of your dear grandchildren--far from -it! I shall smile upon them and bless them with my last breath, as the -tangible angels of your happiness and mine. I am doing my best to be -ready to start on Tuesday morning. I regret not being able to carry away -every relic of our love, from the soil of the garden, to the air you -breathe. By the way I have a petition to make to you, but am ready to -submit to a refusal if you do not approve of granting it. I want you to -allow me to give Louis the two splendid drawings of St. Paul and the -Cock, which are really mine to dispose of, since you gave them to me -long ago. Some mementoes are more prized by an heir than mere money, and -I should like to leave these from you to my kind and worthy nephew, if -you consent. Meanwhile, as I said before, I will bow to a refusal, even -if you give me no reason, for I adore you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 7.45 a.m., October 5th, 1875_. - -Good news from your dear little travellers. The top of the morning to -you, and long live love! The telegram, which came after I was in bed, -that is to say after eleven o'clock, is dated from Genoa, and says they -arrive the day after to-morrow at Madame Mnard's, and will write at -once from there. Meanwhile they send you thousands of kisses, of which -I make bold to reserve a share, before being quite certain that I am -meant to do so. This long delayed arrival in France heralds their speedy -return home, which is not at all displeasing to me--_on the contrary!_ -My gaze, night and morning, at their dear little portraits in no degree -replaces their kisses, their sweet faces, and the joyous little shrieks -one hears all day long. At last we are touching the end of our long -abstinence and shall soon be able to devour them whole. Meanwhile I -continue to feed upon your heart, to whet my appetite. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Sunday, 5 p.m., November 21st, 1875_. - -Dear beloved, your promise to take me every day to Versailles, if you -are obliged to return to the Assemble, fills my heart with such joy -that I have been humming all the merry songs I used to sing. It is long -since I have done such a thing. What would it be if some lucky event -sent us all back to Guernsey, never to leave it again ... or at least, -not for a very long time! What enchantment, what a starlit dream, if God -were to give us that bliss a second time! I think I should promptly -return to the age I was when I received your first kiss. Fortunately for -France, God will not grant this selfish wish, but He will forgive me for -entertaining it I hope, for I cannot help loving you beyond everything -in this world, and it does not hinder me from being satisfied with -whatever happiness He is pleased to vouchsafe, so long as you are -content, and love only me, who adore you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 8 a.m., April 25th, 1876_. - -My treasure, I pray God not to separate us in this life or the next. -That is why I am anxious to be with you in the crowd that will rush to -see and hear you at the cemetery to-day.[118] I know by experience that -your enthusiasm borders on imprudence, so I want to press my body to -yours as closely as our souls are riveted, so that whatever befalls you -on this sad occasion, may include me. As the love animating our hearts -is identical, it is only fair that our fate should be the same. I wish -this evening were safely over, that I might be satisfied that everything -has gone off well; for I am afraid if poor Louis Blanc attends the -mournful ceremony in his present state of ill-health and weakness, he -may not be able to get through it. I shall not be easy until we are at -home again. Meanwhile I pray Heaven and our angels above to watch over -you and preserve you from all danger. I bless, love, and adore you, for -all eternity. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Wednesday, 7.30 a.m., April 26th, 1876_. - -I thank you with sacred emotion, my dear one, for your inclusion of me -in the sublime and magnificent exordium you pronounced yesterday on the -noble wife of Louis Blanc. I accept it without false modesty, because I -feel I deserve it, and I am proud and grateful for this ante-apotheosis -you made of me, a living woman, standing at the open grave of the -devoted deceased. I am sure her spirit will not have grudged it, and -that she blesses you from above, as I do from below, joining her prayers -to mine, that God may grant all grace and divine consolation to those we -love. I have already re-read your splendid oration many times to-day, -and although I know it by heart, each repetition discloses some fresh -beauty in it. My one cry is: I love you! I love you!! I love you!!! All -my heart and soul are contained in those words: I love you. - -J. - - -_Monday, 10 a.m., November 11th, 1878._ - -No, my beloved, you have no right to endanger your precious health and -risk your glorious life for nothing. "Art for art's sake" is not -permissible in your case, and we shall oppose it strenuously, even at -the risk of curtailing your liberty. I am sorry, but there it is--you -must make up your mind to it. There are plenty of useless men in this -world who may waste their lives as they like, but you must guard and -preserve yours for as long as it pleases God to grant it to you for the -honour and happiness of humanity. So, my dear little man, I implore you -not to repeat yesterday's imprudence, or any other, for all our sakes, -including your adorable grandchildren's and mine whose health and life -and soul you are. When I see you so careless of yourself I cannot help -feeling you no longer love me, and that my continued presence is so -wearisome to you that you want to be rid of it at any price. Then I -am seized with a desperate longing to deliver you of me for ever, rather -than be the involuntary accomplice of your repeated suicidal acts, which -have been ineffectual so far, not through your fault, but because God -intends you to go on living, for His greater glory and your own. May His -will be done. Amen. - -J. - -[Illustration: THE DEATHBED OF VICTOR HUGO. - -Victor Hugo Museum.] - -[Illustration: A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET. - -The writing reads thus: "A la Juliette de Victor Hugo, plus charmante et -plus aime que la Juliette de Shakespeare." The original belongs to M. -Louis Barthou.] - -VILLEQUIER, -_Friday and Saturday mornings, September 12th and 13th, 1879_. - -A double letter, my beloved; to-day's and yesterday's, which, for want -of paper, pens and ink, I was not able to send you at the proper time, -in spite of the inexhaustible fount of my love. This morning being -better provided, I can let myself go in the happiness of being with you -in the house of your respected friends,[119] enjoying their tender and -devoted hospitality. I am proud and yet shy of sharing it with you; -proud, because I think myself worthy, shy because I do not know how to -thank them or to prove my gratitude. Fortunately the honour and pleasure -of your presence is reward enough for those you esteem, and from whom -you accept this filial friendship, admiration, and devotion. I express -myself badly, but you are accustomed to grasp my meaning, in spite of -the lapses of my pen; so I never worry about the confusion of my -scribbles, and I end them imperturbably, as I begin them, by the sacred -words: I love you. I did not venture to ask your permission yesterday to -accompany you on your pious pilgrimage,[120] but I add the prayers I -addressed to God and your dear dead, to the sacrifice I was forced to -make to appearances. If you allow me, I shall go before we leave -Villequier, and kneel beside those venerated tombs, to offer under the -open sky my profound respect and eternal benediction. I shall only do it -if you consent, for I should not like to offend against good taste by -the outward manifestation of the sentiment I cherish in my heart for -your dear dead relations. I know you slept well--thanks evidently to the -calm and happy life your friends provide for you in their circle, for -which I thank and bless them from the bottom of my heart. I do not know -whether the weather will be favourable to-day for the excursion we -planned; it is foggy so far, but whatever be the state of the barometer, -I am disposed to be quite happy if you are, and to adore you without -conditions of any kind. By the way, how are you going to evade the -attentions of the mayor and corporation of Le Hvre without hurting the -feelings of the poor workmen who implore you to go amongst them while -you are in their neighbourhood? It is not an easy problem to solve. -Luckily nothing is a difficulty to you--nor to me either when there is -any question of loving you with all my might from one end of life to the -other! - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Monday, 7 a.m., May 30th, 1880_. - -How beautiful, how grand, how divine!!! I have just finished that -glorious reading, and am electrified by the elixir of your ardent -poetry; my fainting soul clings to your mighty wings, to arrest its fall -from the starry heights in which you plane, to the profound abyss of my -ignorance. I was afraid I might disturb your sleep by the rustling of -the leaves as I cut and devoured them greedily, never noticing that -night was turning into day. Finally, fearing to be caught by you, I -dragged myself unwillingly to bed at three o'clock, and have now already -been up an hour, in triumphant health, rejuvenated by the virility of -the thoughts your inexhaustible genius pours forth without intermission -before a dazzled and grateful humanity. My hand shakes from my inward -tremor, and it is with difficulty that I finish this poor little cry of -admiration. Even my voice, if I tried to speak at this moment, could -hardly stammer out my adoration. I am in the throes of a kind of -delirium which would be painful, were it not as exquisite as the divine -love which overflows from my heart. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 8 a.m., November 2nd, 1880_. - -Beloved, Heaven decrees that in the absence of your dear departed souls, -your sweet angels here below should be restored to you to-day. Let us -bless Him with all reverence, and be solemnly happy with the memory of -those who once made our felicity, and the kisses of your adorable -grand-children, who constitute your present and future content. What joy -it is to see them once more, lovelier than ever if possible, and in -still better health. All night I listened to every sound, that I might -be the first to welcome them on the threshold. I succeeded, and was -repaid by their hugs. The sun shot forth its brightest beams in their -honour. As for you, divine grandpapa, I trust your horrid cold will -yield to the tender caresses that await you, and that we shall have you -with us in our enjoyment. The least we can hope for is an indulgence in -unlimited caresses, after these three months of separation. I make a -start by flinging myself into your arms. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 9 a.m., December 14th, 1881_. - -I come to fetch my heart where I left it, that is to say in yours. I -return it to you, praying you not to bruise it over much by unjust and -wounding tyrannies. My independent, proud nature has always borne them -ill, and is now in revolt. I beg you beloved, not to constitute yourself -the critic of my little personal needs. Whatever I may ask, I assure you -I shall never exceed the bounds of necessity, and never will I take -unfair advantage of your trust and generosity. The position you have -given me in your household precludes me from placing myself at a -disadvantage in the eyes of your guests by an appearance not in -consonance with your means. Therefore, please, dear great man, leave it -to my discretion to do honour to you as well as to myself. Besides, the -little time I have to spend on earth is not worth haggling about. So, my -great little man, let us be good to each other for the rest of the time -God grants us to live side by side, and heart to heart. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Sunday, Noon, July 10th, 1881_. - -My dear beloved, I must first of all confess the fault (if it be one) I -committed yesterday under the influence of the universal enthusiasm -occasioned by the glorious ovation offered to you, so that you may -forgive it, even if you see fit to punish me. This is my crime. Whilst -you, still in the full flood of your emotion, were thanking the -enthusiastic crowd, the councillors of our district approached to -congratulate you and at the same time to beg for money for their -schools. Madame Lockroy sent them forty francs by Georges. Failing to -attract your attention, though they stood behind you, intent upon -presenting their money-boxes themselves, they turned to me. In my -agitated surprise, I handed them the hundred-franc note I was saving up -for my birthday. I gave the note in your name, at the same time -reminding them they had already received five hundred from you the day -before, through their mayor. He, happening to be present, confirmed my -statement. This is my transgression; if you deem it deserving of -severity you need not refund the money. If you take into account the -delirium and excitement of the occasion you will smile and give me back -my poor little mite of which I have great need. In any case you must not -scold me too much, for I am very sensitive. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 8 a.m., June 21st, 1882._ - -Beloved, thank you for taking me to-day to the mournful and sweet -_rendez-vous_ of St. Mand. I feel as if my sorrow would be less bitter, -kneeling at my child's grave than when I am at a distance ... as if my -soul could get closer to that of my little beloved, through the earth of -her tomb, than anywhere else. I hope you will find your dear daughter -in good health, and that we shall both return from this sacred errand -resigned to the will of God, though not consoled, for that is no longer -possible in this world. Thank you again, my adored one, for sharing with -me the sad anniversary that recalls to you the many sorrows of your own -life. I am very grateful to you, and I bless you as I love you, with all -the strength of my soul. - -J. - - -_Monday, January 1st, 1883._ - -Dear adored one, I do not know where I may be this time next year, but I -am proud and happy to sign my life-certificate for 1883 with this one -word: I love you. - -JULIETTE.[121] - - - - -APPENDIX - -I. LIST OF THOSE OF VICTOR HUGO'S POEMS WHICH WERE INSPIRED BY JULIETTE -DROUET.[122] - - -A. _LES CHANTS DU CRPUSCULE_ - -XIV. Oh! n'insultez jamais (September 6th, 1835). - -XXI. Hier la nuit d't (May 21st, 1835). - -XXII. Nouvelle chanson sur un vieil air (February 28th, 1834). - -XXIII. Autre chanson. - -XXIV. Oh! pour remplir de moi (September 19th, 1834). - -XXV. Puisque j'ai mis ma lvre (January 1st, 1835). - -XXVI. Or Mademoiselle J. (March 1st, 1835). - -XXVII. La pauvre fleur (December 7th, 1834). - -XXVIII. Au bord de la mer (October 7th, 1834). - -XXIX. Puisque nos heures sont remplies (February 19th, 1835). - -XXXIII. Dans l'glise de.... (October 25th, 1834). - -XXXVI. Puisque Mai tout en fleurs (May 21st, 1835). - - -_B. LES VOIX INTRIEURES_ - -VI. Oh! vivons disent-ils (March 4th, 1837). - -VIII. Venez que je vous parle (April 21st, 1837). - -IX. Pendant que la fentre tait ouverte (February 26th, 1837). - -XI. Puisqu'ici-bas toute me (May 19th, 1836). - -XVI. Pass (April 1st, 1835). - -XVII. Soire en mer (November 9th, 1836). - -XII. Or Ol ... (May 26th, 1837). - -XXX. Or Olympio (October 15th, 1835). - -XXXI. La tombe dit la rose (June 3rd, 1837). - - -_C. LES RAYONS ET LES OMBRES_ - -XXII. Guitare (March 14th, 1837). - -XXIII. Autre guitare (July 18th, 1838). - -XXIV. Quand tu me parles de gloire (October 12th, 1837). - -XXVII. Oh! quand je dors, viens auprs de ma couche (June 19th, 1839). - -XXVIII. A une jeune femme (May 16th, 1837). - -XXV. Or cette terre o l'on ploie (May 20th, 1838). - -XXXIII. L'Ombre (March 1839). - -XXXIV. Tristesse d'Olympio (October 21st, 1837). - -XLI. Dieu qui sourit et qui donne (January 1st, 1840). - - -_D. LES CONTEMPLATIONS_ - -[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE DESIGNED FOR JULIETTE DROUET BY VICTOR HUGO. - -The original belongs to M. Louis Barthou.] - -BOOK II - -II. Mes vers faisaient doux et frles.... - -V. Hier au soir - -XIII. Viens, une flute invisible - -XV. Parole dans l'ombre - -XVII. Sous les arbres - -XX. Il fait froid - -XXI. Il lui disait: Vois-tu, si tous deux nous pouvions - -XXIII. Aprs l'hiver - -XXIV. Que le sort quel qu'il soit vous trouve toujours grande - -XXV. Je respire o tu palpites - -XXVII. Oui, va prier l'glise - -XXVIII. Un soir que je regardais le ciel - -BOOK V - -XIV. Claire P.... - -XXIV. J'ai cueilli cette fleur pour toi sur la colline - -BOOK VI - -VIII. Claire - - -_E. TOUTE LA LYRE_ - -BOOK VI. L'AMOUR - -I. Lorsque ma main frmit - -II. Oh, si vous existez, mon ange, mon gnie (March 10th, 1833). - -III. Vois-tu, mon ange, il faut accepter nos douleurs (January 1st, -1835). - -IV. Vous m'avez prouv (June 23rd, 1843). - -XV. tapes du c[oe]ur. - -VII. A J---- et - -IX. Qu'est-ce que cette anne emporte - -XVII. N'est-ce pas mon amour - -XXXI. Oh dis, te souviens-tu de cet heureux dimanche - -XXXIV. Garde jamais dans ta mmoire - -XXXVI. A une immortelle - -XLVII. Quand deux c[oe]urs en s'aimant - - -II. BOOKS CONCERNING JULIETTE DROUET - -_Les Belles femmes de Paris_, par une socit de gens de lettres et de -gens du monde, Paris, 1839. - -Edmond Bir: _Victor Hugo aprs_ 1830. Paris, 1879. - -Alfred Asseline: _Victor Hugo intime_. Paris, 1885. - -Richard Levelide: _Propos de table de Victor Hugo_. Paris, 1885. - -Gustave Rivet: _Victor Hugo chez lui_. Paris, 1885. - -Tristan Legay: _Les amours de Victor Hugo_. Paris, 1901. - -Louis Guimbaud: _Victor Hugo et Juliette Drouet_ in _La Contemporaine_ -of February 25th and March 10th, 1902. - -Lon Sch: _Juliette Drouet_ in the _Revue de Paris_ of February 1st, -1903. - -Wellington Wack: _The Story of Juliette and Victor Hugo_. London and -Paris (no date, about 1906). - -Juana Richard Levelide: _Victor Hugo intime_. Paris, 1907. - -Hector Fleischmann: _Une Matresse de Victor Hugo_. Paris, 1912. - -Jean Pierre Barbier: _Juliette Drouet, Sa Vie, son Oeuvre_. Paris, 1913. - - -III. WORKS OF ART REPRESENTING JULIETTE DROUET - -"Juliette Drouet in 1827." Statuette by Chaponnire. Only one proof is -known to us; it belongs to M. Daniel Baux Bovy, ex-curator of the Muse -de Genve. - -"Juliette Drouet in 1830." Portrait in oils by Champmartin (Muse Victor -Hugo). - -"Juliette Drouet as Princesse Ngronie." Coloured engraving in the -Martini series. - -"Juliette Drouet." Engraving by Lon Mal, in _L'Artiste_, 1832. - -"Juliette Drouet in 1846." Plaster bust by Victor Vilain (Muse Victor -Hugo). - -"Juliette Drouet at Jersey and Guernsey." Numerous photographs belonging -to Messrs. Blaizot and Plans. - -"Juliette Drouet in 1882." Drawing by Vuillaume in _Le Monde Illustr_ -of December 15th, 1882. - -"Juliette Drouet in 1883." Portrait in oils by Bastien Lepage; exhibited -in the Salon, 1883; now included in the Pereira Collection. - - - - -INDEX - - -Acadmie Franaise, 60-61 - -Alix, Mademoiselle, 267 - -Anges, Mother des, 5 - - -Barths, Monsieur de, 74 - -Bernardines, Bndictines of Perpetual Adoration, 3 - -Bertin, Monsieur, 33 - -Biard, Madame, 245 - -Blanc, Madame Louis, 303 - - -Chenay, Madame Julie, 98 - -Constance, Mademoiselle, 253 - - -Dd, Mademoiselle, 232 - -Dmousseaux, Madame, 218 - -Dorval, Madame, 12, 49, 142 - -_Drouet, Juliette_: - Her birthplace, 1 - Childhood, 3 - Becomes Pradier's mistress, 8 - Gives birth to a daughter, 8 - Enters theatrical world, 9 - Meets Victor Hugo, 13 - Plays Princesse Negroni, 17 - Falls in love with Victor Hugo, 23 - Denial of imaginary offences, 119 - After her first visit to 6, Place Royale, 121 - Works on Les Feuilles d'Automne, 123 - Suggests leaving Victor Hugo, 125 - Her fears for the future, 127 - Her landlord threatens to evict her, 131 - Farewell for ever, 132 - Leaves Victor Hugo, 30 - Asks for forgiveness, 135 - Four hours before the production of _Anglo_, 143 - An hour after the triumph of _Anglo_, 144 - The house at Metz, 36 - Letters from Metz, 155 - Her request for a portrait, 171 - Lawsuit of Victor Hugo against the Comdie Franaise, 186 - Cash accounts, 188 - Removes to Rue St. Anastase, 46 - Alluding to the revival of _Hernani_, 189 - Revival of M_arion de Lorme_, 192 - Cast for the Queen in _Ruy Blas_, 199 - Comments on _Didine_, 212 - Letter written after the catastrophe in which Victor - Hugo's eldest daughter and his son-in-law perished, 227 - Comments on a speech on deportation, 243 - Letters from Brussels, 251-283 - Residence in Jersey and Guernsey, 84 - Letters from Jersey, 256 - " " Guernsey, 265-286 - " " Paris, 290 - Death 114 - Her last letter, 310 - -Drouet, Ren Henri, 2 - - -Ferrier, Mademoiselle Ida, 28 - -Fougres, 1 - -Gautier, Thophile, his description of Juliette, 19 - -Gauvain, Julienne Josphine. _See_ Drouet, Juliette - -Georges, Mademoiselle, 11, 12, 143 - -Granier de Cassagnac, 198 - -Gurard, Madame, 184 - - -Harel, Flix, 9, 143 - -Hilaire, Monsieur St., 228 - -Hugo, Charles, 92; - death, 105 - -Hugo, Franois, 92, 293 - -Hugo, Victor (_see also_ Drouet, Juliette) - Meets Juliette, 13 - Revival of _Hernani_, 57 - Becomes an Academician, 62, 216 - His opening speech, 65 - Lives at Jersey and Guernsey, 94 - Elected a member of the Assemble Nationale, 105 - -Hugo, Madame Victor, 16 - -Joly, Antnor, 202 - -Juliette, Mademoiselle. _See_ Drouet, Juliette - - -Kock, Madame, 30 - -Kraftt, Madame, 133 - - -Lanvin, Madame, 123, 227 - -Lespinasse, Mademoiselle de, 187 - -Lockroy, Madame, 309 - -Luthereau, Madame, 86 - -Luxembourg, 67 - - -Mars, Mademoiselle, 142 - -Maxime, Mademoiselle, 226 - -Mechtilde, Mother Ste., 5 - -Mnard, Madame, 301 - -Meurice, Paul, 104 - - -Orlans, Duc d', 225 - - -Pasquier, Monsieur, 144 - -Pierceau, Madame, 144, 218 - -Pradier, Claire, 69; - death, 82 - -Pradier, James, 7; - makes Juliette his mistress, 8; - writes to Juliette, 73, 123 - - -Quelen, Monsignor, Archbishop of Paris, 7 - - -Rcamier, Madame, 144 - - -Teleki, 267 - -_Tudor, Marie_, 137 - - -Verdier, Monsieur, 144 - - -Watteville, Madame, 73, 123 - -_Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._ - - -THE PRINCESS MATHILDE BONAPARTE - - By PHILIP W. SERGEANT, Author of "The Last Empress of the French," - etc. - - _Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, fully illustrated, 16/-net._ - -Princess Mathilde Bonaparte, the niece of the great Emperor, died only -ten years ago. She was the first serious passion of her cousin, the -Emperor Napoleon III, and she might have been, if she had wished, -Empress of the French. Instead, she preferred to rule for half a century -over a _salon_ in Paris, where, although not without fault, she was -known as "the good princess." - - -FROM JUNGLE TO ZOO - - By ELLEN VELVIN, F.Z.S., Author of "Behind the Scenes with Wild - Animals," etc. - - _Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, with many remarkable photographs, - 6/-net._ - -A fascinating record of the many adventures to which wild animals and -their keepers are subject from the time the animals are captured until -their final lodgment in Zoo or menagerie. The author has studied wild -animals for sixteen years, and writes from personal knowledge. The book -is full of exciting stories and good descriptions of the methods of -capture, transportation and caging of savage animals, together with -accounts of their tricks, training, and escapes from captivity. - - -THE ADMIRABLE PAINTER: A study of Leonardo da Vinci - - By A. J. ANDERSON, Author of "The Romance of Fra Filippo Lippi," - "His Magnificence," etc. - - _Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, fully illustrated, 10/6 net._ - -In this book we find Leonardo da Vinci to have been no absorbed, -religious painter, but a man closely allied to every movement of the -brilliant age in which he lived. Leonardo jotted down his thoughts in -his notebooks and elaborated them with his brush, in the modelling of -clay, or in the planning of canals, earthworks and flying-machines. -These notebooks form the groundwork of Mr. Anderson's fascinating study, -which gives us a better understanding of Leonardo, the man, as well as -the painter, than was possible before. - - -WOMEN OF THE REVOLUTIONARY ERA - - By Lieut.-Col. ANDREW C. P. HAGGARD, D.S.O., Author of "Remarkable - Women of France, 1431-1749," etc. - - _Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, fully illustrated, 16/-net._ - -Lieut.-Col. Haggard has many times proved that history can be made as -fascinating as fiction. Here he deals with the women whose more or less -erratic careers influenced, by their love of display, the outbreak which -culminated in the Reign of Terror. Most of them lived till after the -beginning of the Revolution, and some, like Marie Antoinette, Throigne -de Mricourt and Madame Roland, were sucked down in the maelstrom which -their own actions had intensified. - - -THE MEMOIRS OF THE DUKE DE ST. SIMON - - Newly translated and edited by FRANCIS ARKWRIGHT. - - _In six volumes, demy 8vo, handsomely bound in cloth gilt, with - illustrations in photogravure, 10/6 net each volume. (Volumes I. - and II. are now ready.)_ - -No historian has ever succeeded in placing scenes and persons so vividly -before the eyes of his readers as did the Duke de St. Simon. He was a -born observer; his curiosity was insatiable; he had a keen insight into -character; he knew everybody, and has a hundred anecdotes to relate of -the men and women he describes. He had a singular knack of acquiring the -confidential friendship of men in high office, from whom he learnt -details of important state affairs. For a brief while he served as a -soldier. Afterwards his life was passed at the Court of Louis XIV, where -he won the affectionate intimacy of the Duke of Orleans and the Duke of -Burgundy. St. Simon's famous Memoirs have recently been much neglected -in England, owing to the mass of unnecessary detail overshadowing the -marvellously fascinating chronicle beneath. In this edition, however, -they have been carefully edited and should have an extraordinarily wide -reception. - - -BY THE WATERS OF GERMANY - - By NORMA LORIMER, Author of "A Wife out of Egypt," etc. With a - Preface by Douglas Sladen. - - _Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, with a coloured frontispiece and 16 other - illustrations by_ MARGARET THOMAS _and_ ERNA MICHEL, _12/6 net_. - -This fascinating travel-book describes the land of the Rhine and the -Black Forest, at the present time so much the centre of public interest. -The natural and architectural beauties of Germany are too supreme for -even the sternest German-hater to deny; and this book describes them and -the land around them well. But apart from the love-story which Miss -Lorimer has weaved into the book, a particularly great interest attaches -to her description of the home life of the men who, since she saw them, -have deserved and received the condemnation of the whole civilized -world. - - -BY THE WATERS OF SICILY - - By NORMA LORIMER, Author of "By the Waters of Germany," etc. - - _New and Cheaper Edition, reset from new type, Large Crown 8vo, - cloth gilt, with a coloured frontispiece and 16 other - illustrations, 6/-._ - -This book, the predecessor of "By the Waters of Germany," was called at -the time of its original publication "one of the most original books of -travel ever published." It had at once a big success, but for some time -it has been quite out of print. Full of the vivid colour of Sicilian -life, it is a delightfully picturesque volume, half travel-book, half -story; and there is a sparkle in it, for the author writes as if glad to -be alive in her gorgeously beautiful surroundings. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] Her birth-certificate is drawn up in the following terms: "On April -11th, 1806, at 3 p.m. before me, Louis Pinel, mayor of Fougres and -registrar of births, deaths, and marriages, Julien Gauvain, tailor, -aged twenty-nine, residing at Rue de la Rvolution, Fougres, presented -a female child, born on the preceding day at 7 a.m., the legitimate -daughter of himself and his wife Marie Caretandet; he declared his -intention of bestowing upon her the names of Julienne-Josphine. The -said declaration and presentation were made in the presence of Franois -Dorange, sheriff's officer, aged twenty-five, residing in Fougres, and -Franois Paunier, gardener, aged sixty-eight, residing in Lcousse. -This certificate was duly signed by the father and the witnesses, after -the same had been read aloud to them. Signed: Julien Gauvain, Franois -Paunier, Dorange, and Louis Pinel." - -[2] She posed, not, as has been stated, and as we ourselves have -erroneously printed, for statues in the towns of Lille and Strasburg, -but for numerous studies of the head and the nude which Pradier -afterwards made use of; thus the features of Julienne may be recognised -in almost all the rough studies belonging to the first portion of -Pradier's career, which are exhibited under glass in the museum at -Geneva. - -[3] The portrait of Victor Hugo by Devria has often been reproduced. -It is popular. Lon Nol's lithograph is less known. It is to be found -either in the _Artiste_ in the course of the year 1832 or in the Muse -Victor Hugo. We reproduced it in the _Contemporaine_ of February 25th, -1902. - -[4] Victor Hugo, _Correspondance_. Letter to Sainte-Beuve, August 22nd, -1833. - -[5] Victor Hugo, _Correspondance_. Letter to Sainte-Beuve, July 7th, -1831. - -[6] _Lettres la Fiance._ - -[7] Under the heading: _A Ol._ (Olympio) XII. - -[8] Thophile Gautier, _Portraits contemporains_. - -[9] Alphonse Karr, _Une Heure trop tard_. - -[10] We heard it from Monsieur Benezit, who was often with Frdrick -Lematre about the year 1872. - -[11] Thophile Gautier, _Portraits contemporains_. - -[12] _Lucrce Borgia._ First note to the original edition. - -[13] She was forty-six and beginning to grow fat. According to -Juliette, she told Victor Hugo that his mistress was deceitful, vain, -lawless, and a flirt. - -[14] V. H. Fleischmann, _Une Matresse de Victor Hugo_, chap. vii. - -[15] Nothing remains of it now, save the name and the site. All the -rest, park, garden, and dwelling, has been completely altered. - -[16] In 1877 Madame Drouet, although seventy-one years old, insisted -upon attending the funeral of Mlle. Louise Bertin. "I wish," she wrote -to Victor Hugo, "to show in this way that I have not forgotten the -marks of sympathy she gave you on my account in the early days of our -love" (_Letter of April 28th, 1877_). - -[17] This inn still exists, and is not changed in any way. It is -exceedingly modest. - -[18] It belongs now to Madame Veuve Bigot. On the left exterior wall a -Versailles society has thought fit to place an inscription recording -that Victor Hugo once inhabited the house. Four lines of _La Tristesse -d'Olympio_ follow. It would have been more correct to bracket the name -of Juliette Drouet with that of the poet, for after all it was not he -who lived there, but she. - -[19] Here occurs the only discrepancy between _La Tristesse d'Olympio_ -and the letters of Juliette. Victor Hugo writes in 1837: "They have -paved this rough, badly-laid road"; whereas Juliette, as early as 1835, -calls it _the pavement_. - -[20] _La Tristesse d'Olympio._ - -[21] See also later, in the collection of letters, the one written -under date of January 25th, 1844. - -[22] September 27th, 1845. - -[23] September 29th, 1845: "I wish I had the money to buy it all before -it is desecrated." Victor Hugo understood her feeling, and a generous -impulse led him to propose to buy the house. The price asked was six -thousand francs. Very delicately Juliette refused. October 7th, 1845. - -[24] 1834. - -[25] December 15th, 1838. - -[26] Thophile Gautier. - -[27] In 1836 Victor Hugo was forced to take legal action against the -Comdie Franaise. He won his case the following year. - -[28] We have proofs of this in two letters from Juliette to Victor Hugo. - -[29] February 1st, 1836. - -[30] It will be remembered that Mlle. Maxime brought an action against -the Comdie and Victor Hugo on that point, which made some considerable -stir. See the articles of Monsieur Jules Claretie in _Le Journal_ of -February 5th, 1902. - -[31] _Les Burgraves_ alternated in the bill with a piece by Madame de -Girardin in which Rachel played the heroine. - -[32] May 30th, 1841. - -[33] The removal took place in the month of February 1845. The rent and -accommodation of the apartment were about the same as at No. 14. The -furnishing, which Victor Hugo wished to make somewhat more luxurious, -cost 2,256 francs, including the first quarter's rent. - -[34] 1833. - -[35] Monsieur Lon Seche, _Revue de Paris_, February 15th, 1903. - -[36] Catalogue of an interesting collection of autograph letters of -which the sale took place on Saturday, November 30th, 1912, page 21. -Paris. Nol Charavay, 1912. In another note dated from Les Metz, Victor -Hugo tells Claire "that he loves her with all his heart, and uses his -best handwriting in writing to her, which is very praiseworthy in -an old student like himself." And he adds, "I kiss both your little -peach-cheeks." (Same, p. 22.) - -[37] Autograph postscript by Victor Hugo to a letter to Juliette on May -28th, 1833, quoted above. - -[38] Pradier did not fail to write a sermon on this occasion full of -the unction and solecisms in which he habitually excelled. - -[39] June 5th, 1841. - -[40] _Les Contemplations_, Livres V., XIV., Claire P. - -[41] One of the sons of the sculptor was called John. - -[42] April 25th, 1845. - -[43] April 27th, 1845. - -[44] The thrilling episode of Victor Hugo's political adventures in -1851, by which his life was placed in jeopardy through his espousal of -the cause of liberty and progress, is related by himself in _L'Histoire -d'un crime_. He was forced to go into hiding in December for several -days, and subsequently made his escape to Brussels in the disguise of -a workman. Juliette had preceded him thither, to prepare a safe refuge -for him.--_Translator's Note._ - -[45] Charles Hugo, _Les Hommes de l'Exil_, p. 104. - -[46] _Ibid._ - -[47] May 18th, 1852. - -[48] This passage constitutes the portion of the Galleries of St. -Hubert situated at right angles to the two others, called respectively, -Passage du Roi, and Passage de la Reine. - -[49] May 24th, 1852. - -[50] A packet of Victor Hugo's love-letters to Madame B. was -treacherously forwarded to her by the lady in question. They extended -over a period of seven years, 1844 to 1851. Victor Hugo had carried -on his secret intrigue with Madame B. while he was daily visiting and -corresponding with Juliette. The discovery of his duplicity almost -broke her heart.--_Translator's Note._ - -[51] Victor Hugo, _Correspondance_, letter to mile Deschanel, December -11th, 1853. - -[52] January 23rd, 1853. - -[53] It was signed by Flix Pyat, Rouge, and Jourdain. - -[54] Victor Hugo had disposed of the bulk of his furniture in June -1852, but he had stored the things he specially valued at Juliette's -apartment, Cit Rodier. - -[55] These remarks may be verified by the series of photographs of the -poet taken by his sons during his exile and preserved in the Muse -Victor Hugo. Some of the snapshots, as we should call them nowadays, -are an indication of the distress of the great outlaw. - -[56] _Victor Hugo Intime_, by Madame Juana Lesclide. - -[57] A young girl in bad circumstances, to whom Juliette had given -shelter under her own roof, and who thus requited the charity of her -benefactress.--_Translator's Note._ - -[58] Juliette Drouet was buried on May 12th, 1883, in the cemetery -of Saint Mand, near her daughter Claire, under a marble stone she -had selected for herself in 1881. Her funeral was attended by a large -body of journalists. The speech was delivered by Auguste Vacquerie. -According to a letter she wrote to Victor Hugo on November 1st, 1881, -she wished for an epitaph taken from one of the "sublime poems" he had -addressed to her. Her desire was not gratified; the tomb does not even -bear the name of our heroine. - -[59] Juliette Drouet occasionally acted as the poet's secretary. - -[60] This letter is not signed. The envelope is addressed: "M. Victor -Hugo. A quarter to twelve, midnight. I am going to your house." - -[61] Victor Hugo was then living at 6, Place Royale, in the house which -is now the Muse Victor Hugo. Juliette Drouet lived not far away at 4, -Rue de Paradis au Marais, which is now one of the sections of the Rue -des Francs-Bourgeois. - -[62] Juliette's furniture had just been seized, and her landlord was -threatening to evict her. - -[63] Mlle. Mars, who was rehearsing a part in _Anglo_, at the Comdie -Franaise. - -[64] There are traces of tears all over this letter. - -[65] Eugne Hugo, brother of the poet, had just expired. See Number -XXIX of _Voix Intrieures, Eugne, Vicomte Hugo_. - -[66] This is an allusion to the second poem in the _Voix Intrieures_: -"Sunt lacrim...." - -[67] One of the basins in the park of Versailles. - -[68] Victor Hugo had given Juliette a _Quintus Curtius_ in which he had -formerly studied Latin. On the fly-leaf he had written a few words of -dedication. - -[69] A critic. - -[70] Juliette Drouet here enumerates the depreciation of various -stocks. The letter is of course written in a sarcastic vein induced by -_pique_.--_Translator's Note._ - -[71] This is an allusion to the lawsuit of Victor Hugo against the -Comdie Franaise. - -[72] Casimir Delavigne. - -[73] Scribe. - -[74] Juliette's sums were always wrong. - -[75] Alluding to the revival of _Hernani_ at the Comdie Franaise, -January 20th, 1838. - -[76] The revival of _Marion de Lorme_ at the Comdie Franaise was to -take place the next evening, March 8th. - -[77] Granier de Cassagnac, one of the most ardent champions of Victor -Hugo against the classical writers. The poet had introduced him to the -_Journal des Dbts_. - -[78] _Ruy Blas._ The poet had considered the propriety of casting -Juliette for the part of the Queen, and had in consequence caused her -to be engaged by the Thtre de la Renaissance. - -[79] The creator of the part of the Queen in _Ruy Blas_. The first -performance had taken place on November 8th. - -[80] Antnor Joly, Manager of the Thtre de la Renaissance. He had -intended to produce Juliette in a musical comedy. - -[81] Victor Hugo had already submitted himself three times as a -candidate for the Acadmie and was elected the fourth time, that is to -say, the day Juliette wrote this letter. His chief adversary in the -Acadmie was one of his former rivals, the Vaudevilliste, Dupaty. - -[82] Victor Hugo was received into the Acadmie by Monsieur de Salvandy -on June 3rd, 1841. - -[83] The poet's children. - -[84] Victor Hugo had been elected Chancellor of the Acadmie Franaise -on the preceding June 24th. Charles Nodier was the President. - -[85] Franois Victor Hugo, whose childhood was extremely delicate. - -[86] This is an allusion to the recent death of the Duc d'Orlans, the -friend and protector of Victor Hugo. - -[87] Rehearsals of _Burgraves_ at the Comdie Franaise. - -[88] An allusion to the disagreement of the poet with Mdlle. Maxime, to -whom the Comdie Franaise wished to allot the part of _Guachumara_, -and whom he was afterwards able to replace by Mdlle. Thodorine (Mme. -Melingue). - -[89] This letter is written after the catastrophe at Villequier on -September 4th, 1847, in which the eldest daughter and the son-in-law of -the poet perished. - -[90] This is an allusion to a journey Juliette and Victor Hugo had just -made, the account of which had been published in _Alpes et Pyrnes_. - -[91] Probably Ulrich Guttinguer. - -[92] A bronze medal representing Victor Hugo, after the medallion by -David d'Angers. - -[93] This letter was written at Auteuil, where Juliette was living, -with her dying daughter, in a house belonging to the sculptor, Pradier. -Victor Hugo visited her there nearly every day. - -[94] The doctor chosen by Pradier. - -[95] Juliette's own doctor. - -[96] Victor Hugo was then a candidate for the Assemble Nationale. - -[97] Victor Hugo was to make a speech that day on _La Misre_, vide -_Actes et Paroles_, _Avant l'xil_. - -[98] Mdlle. Rachel. Arsne Houssaye, who had recently been appointed -Director of the Comdie Franaise, had just introduced Victor Hugo to -the great tragedian. - -[99] A speech on deportation. Vide _Actes et paroles_, _Avant l'xil_. - -[100] Madame Biard. - -[101] Madame Biard had sent Juliette a packet of Victor Hugo's letters -to her. - -[102] The word "to-day" is left unfinished in the original, thus: -_aujo_.... - -[103] The period when Victor Hugo's intrigue with Madame Biard began. - -[104] On December 2nd, 1851, Victor Hugo held a meeting of the -representatives of the people, at which he drew up a proclamation -addressed to the Army. On the 3rd he presided over a meeting of the -Republicans in the Faubourg St. Antoine. Word was brought that the -troops were marching on the Faubourg. Victor Hugo thereupon delivered -an impassioned appeal to his audience, which concluded in the following -terms: "On one side stand the Army, and a crime--on the other, a -handful of men, and the Right! Such is the struggle. Are you prepared -to carry it through?"--_Translator's note._ - -[105] A troupe of actors passing through Jersey had insisted upon -playing _Anglo_ before the exiled poet. - -[106] Teleki, one of Victor Hugo's friends in Jersey. - -[107] Victor Hugo had taken up photography. - -[108] An allusion to spiritualism to which Victor Hugo had just fallen -a prey. - -[109] Adle Hugo, daughter of the poet. - -[110] Victor Hugo's drawings. He was giving them away indiscriminately -to his friends, and Juliette was jealous. - -[111] Probably one of the poems commemorating the catastrophe of -Villequier. They were collected and republished in _Les Contemplations_. - -[112] Charles Hugo had lost his eldest son, Georges. He gave the same -Christian name to the second, who, with Petite Jeanne, figures in -_L'Art d'tre Grand-pre_. - -[113] Madame Victor Hugo had just died. - -[114] Franois Victor Hugo had just been given up by the doctors. His -slow agony lasted eleven months. - -[115] Franois Victor Hugo died in the course of the day. - -[116] The anniversary of the death of Claire. - -[117] The removal from _Hauteville Ferie_. - -[118] Victor Hugo was to make a speech at the funeral of Madame Louis -Blanc. - -[119] A. Vacquerie and family. - -[120] To the grave of Lopoldine. - -[121] This letter is the last Juliette ever wrote. - -[122] Monsieur Eugne Plans possesses the original editions of _Chants -du Crpuscule_, _Les Voix Intrieures_, _Les Rayons et les Ombres_, -dedicated to Juliette and annotated by herself. He has been good -enough to refer to them and verify our list in so far as the three -following collections are concerned. We have included in the selection -only the love-poems directly inspired by Juliette. We have left out -the miscellaneous pieces which were dedicated to her after they were -written, sometimes at her own request. - - * * * * * - -Typographical error corrected by the etext transcriber: - -the silent Bivre=> the silent Bivres {pg 33} - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Juliette Drouet's Love-Letters to -Victor Hugo, by Louis Guimbaud and Juliette Drouet - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIETTE DROUET'S LETTERS *** - -***** This file should be named 44034-8.txt or 44034-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/0/3/44034/ - -Produced by StevenGibbs, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Juliette Drouet's Love-Letters to Victor Hugo - Edited with a Biography of Juliette Drouet - -Author: Louis Guimbaud - Juliette Drouet - -Translator: Lady Theodora Davidson - -Release Date: October 25, 2013 [EBook #44034] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIETTE DROUET'S LETTERS *** - - - - -Produced by StevenGibbs, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_cover_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="373" height="550" alt="bookcover" /></a> -</p> - -<p class="cb">JULIETTE DROUET’S LOVE-LETTERS<br /> -TO VICTOR HUGO</p> - -<div class="bbox"> -<p class="hang">THE NEW FRANCE, <span class="smcap">Being a History from the accession of Louis Philippe in -1830 to the Revolution of 1848</span>, with Appendices</p> - -<p class="hang">By <span class="smcap">Alexandre Dumas</span>. Translated into English, with an introduction -and notes by <span class="smcap">R. S. Garnett</span>.</p> - -<p class="hang"><i>In two volumes, Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, profusely illustrated with a -rare portrait of Dumas and other pictures after famous artists. -24/-net.</i></p> - -<p class="sml">The map of Europe is about to be altered. Before long we shall be -engaged in the marking out. This we can hardly follow with success -unless we possess an intelligent knowledge of the history of our Allies. -It is a curious fact that the present generation is always ignorant of -the history of that which preceded it. Everyone or nearly everyone has -read a history—Carlyle’s or some other—of the French Revolution of -1789 to 1800; very few seem versed in what followed and culminated in -the revolution of 1848, which was the continuation of the first.</p> - -<p class="sml">Both revolutions resulted from an idea—the idea of <i>the people</i>. In -1789 the people destroyed servitude, ignorance, privilege, monarchical -despotism; in 1848 they thrust aside representation by the few and a -Monarchy which served its own interests to the prejudice of the country. -It is impossible to understand the French Republic of to-day unless the -struggle in 1848 be studied: for every profound revolution is an -evolution.</p> - -<p class="sml">A man of genius, the author of the most essentially French book, both in -its subject and treatment, that exists (its name is <i>The Three -Musketeers</i>) took part in this second revolution, and having taken part -in it, he wrote its history. Only instead of calling his book what it -was—a history of France for eighteen years—that is to say from the -accession of Louis Philippe in 1830 to his abdication in 1848—he called -it <i>The Last King of the French</i>. An unfortunate title, truly, for while -the book was yet a new one the “last King” was succeeded by a man who, -having been elected President, made himself Emperor. It will easily be -understood that a book with such a title by a republican was not likely -to be approved by the severe censorship of the Second Empire. And, in -fact, no new edition of the book has appeared for sixty years, although -its republican author was Alexandre Dumas.</p> - -<p class="sml">During the present war the Germans have twice marched over his grave at -Villers Cotterets, near Soissons, where he sleeps with his brave father -General Alexandre Dumas. The first march was en route for Paris; the -second was before the pursuit of our own and the French armies, and -while these events were taking place the first translation of his long -neglected book was being printed in London. <i>Habent sua fata tibelli.</i></p> - -<p class="sml">Written when the fame of its brilliant author was at its height, this -book will be found eminently characteristic of him. Although a history -composed with scrupulous fidelity to facts, it is as amusing as a -romance. Wittily written, and abounding in life and colour, the long -narrative takes the reader into the battlefield, the Court and the Hôtel -de Ville with equal success. Dumas, who in his early days occupied a -desk in the prince’s bureaux, but who resigned it when the Duc d’Orleans -became King of the French, relates much which it is curious to read at -the present time. To his text, as originally published, are added as -Appendices some papers from his pen relating to the history of the time, -which are unknown in England.</p> -</div> - -<p><a name="front" id="front"></a></p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_frontis_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_frontis_sml.jpg" width="338" height="530" alt="Victor Hugo and Juliette Drouet" /></a> -</p> - -<h1>JULIETTE DROUET’S LOVE-LETTERS<br /> -TO VICTOR HUGO</h1> - -<p class="cb">EDITED WITH A BIOGRAPHY OF JULIETTE DROUET<br /> -<br /><br /> -<small>BY</small><br /> -LOUIS GUIMBAUD<br /> -<br /><br /> -<small>TRANSLATED BY</small><br /> -LADY THEODORA DAVIDSON<br /> -<br /><br /> -WITH A PHOTOGRAVURE FRONTISPIECE<br /> -AND 36 ILLUSTRATIONS IN HALF-TONE<br /> -<br /><br /> -LONDON<br /> -S T A N L E Y P A U L & C O<br /> -31 ESSEX STREET, STRAND, W.C.<br /> -<br /><br /> -<br /><i>First published in 1915</i></p> - -<h2><a name="FOREWORD" id="FOREWORD"></a>FOREWORD</h2> - -<p class="nind">A <small>POET</small>, a great poet, loves a princess of the theatre. He is jealous. He -forces her to abandon the stage and the green-room, to relinquish the -hollow flattery of society and the town; he cloisters her with one -servant, two or three of his portraits, and as many books, in an -apartment a few yards square. When she complains of having nothing to do -but wait for him, he replies: “Write to me. Write me everything that -comes into your head, everything that causes your heart to beat.”</p> - -<p>Such is the origin of the letters of Juliette Drouet to Victor Hugo. -They are not ordinary missives confided to the post and intended to -assure a lover of the tender feelings of his mistress: they are notes, -mere “scribbles,” as Juliette herself calls them, thrown upon paper hour -by hour, cast into a corner without being read over, and secured by the -lover at each of his visits, as so many trophies of passion.</p> - -<p>When Juliette Drouet’s executor, M. Louis Kock, died in Paris on May -26th, 1912, he had in his possession about twenty thousand. He had added -to them the letters of James Pradier to our heroine, those of Juliette -to her daughter, Claire Pradier, and the answers of Claire Pradier to -her mother.</p> - -<p>This collection of documents passed into the hands of a Parisian -publisher, Monsieur A. Blaizot, who has been so good as to allow us to -examine them and compile from them a volume concerning Victor Hugo and -his friend.</p> - -<p>At first sight the task presented grave difficulties—nay, it seemed -almost impossible of execution. To begin with, it would have been futile -to think of publishing the whole of the twenty thousand letters; in the -second place, it might appear a work of supererogation to reconstruct -from them in detail the story of a <i>liaison</i> well known to have been -uneventful, almost monotonous, and more suggestive of a litany or the -beads of a rosary than of tragedy or a novel.</p> - -<p>We have attempted to surmount these objections in the following manner:</p> - -<p>In the first portion we present the biography of Juliette Drouet in the -form of a series of synthetic tableaux, each tableau summarising several -lustres of her life. We thus avoid the long-drawn-out narrative, year by -year, of an existence devoid of incident or adventure.</p> - -<p>In the second, we publish those letters which strike us as peculiarly -eloquent, witty, or lyrical. In the light shed upon them by the -preliminary biography, they form, as one might say, its justification -and natural sequel.</p> - -<p>At the outset of her <i>liaison</i> with the poet Juliette does not date her -“scribbles”; she merely notes the time of day and the day of the week, -until about 1840; we have therefore been obliged to content ourselves -with the classification effected by her in the collection of her -manuscripts, and preserved by her executor.</p> - -<p>From 1840 she dated every sheet. Consequently our work simultaneously -achieves more precision and certainty.</p> - -<p>When its difficulties have seemed insuperable, we have derived valuable -encouragement from the sympathy of the literary students and friends who -had urged us to undertake it, or were assisting us in its execution. We -have pleasure in recording our thanks to the following: MM. Louis -Barthou, Beuve, A. Blaizot, François Camailhac, Eugène Planès, Escolier, -etc. b We have often wondered what the charming woman whose ideals, -tastes, and habits have, by degrees, become almost as familiar to us as -her handwriting, would have thought of our efforts. As far as she -herself is concerned there can be but little doubt. She would have made -fun of the undertaking. By dint of moving in the society of men of high -literary attainments she had acquired a very modest estimate of her own -wit and talent. In 1877, when the architect Roblin one day discovered -her sorting out her “scribbles,” he thought she was attempting to write -a book and gravely asked her “when it was to be published.” “What an -idea!” she cried, and burst out laughing.</p> - -<p>Such was not the opinion of Victor Hugo, however. That perfect artist -attached the utmost importance to the writings of his friend. Each time -she wished to destroy them he commanded her to preserve them. Whenever -she proposed to bring them to a close, he insisted upon her continuing. -We possess an unpublished letter from the poet in which he exclaims:</p> - -<p>“Your letters, my Juliette, constitute my treasure, my casket of jewels, -my riches! In them our joint lives are recorded day by day, thought by -thought. All that you dreamed lies there, all that you suffered. They -are charming mirrors, each one of which reflects a fresh aspect of your -lovely soul.”</p> - -<p>Surely such a phrase conveys approbation and sanction sufficient for -both Juliette Drouet and her humble biographer.</p> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="margin:auto;max-width:60%;"> - -<tr><td valign="top" align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#PART_I">PART I</a><br /> -<i>BIOGRAPHICAL</i></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" align="right" colspan="2"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Julienne Gauvain</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_001">1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Princesse Négroni</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_014">14</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><p class="hang">“<span class="smcap">La Tristesse D’Olympio</span>”</p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_033">33</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">The Shackles of Love</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_045">45</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Claire Pradier</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_069">69</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><p class="hang">“<span class="smcap">On an Island</span>”</p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_084">84</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><p class="hang">“<span class="smcap">That which brings Satisfaction to the Heart</span>”</p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_104">104</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#PART_II">PART II</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><i>LETTERS</i></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_115">115</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><a href="#APPENDIX">APPENDIX</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><p class="hang"><a href="#I">I.</a> <span class="smcap">List of those of Victor Hugo’s Poems<br /> -which were inspired by Juliette -Drouet</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_311">311</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><p class="hang"><a href="#II">II.</a> <span class="smcap">Books concerning Juliette Drouet</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_314">314</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><p class="hang"><a href="#III">III.</a> <span class="smcap">Works of Art representing Juliette -Drouet</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_314">314</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#INDEX">INDEX</a></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_317">317</a></td></tr> - -</table> - -<h2><a name="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS" id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="margin:auto;max-width:60%;"> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Victor Hugo and Juliette Drouet</span></p></td><td align="right"><a href="#front"><i>Photogravure Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right" colspan="2"><small>FACING PAGE</small></td></tr> -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">The Château of Fougères in 1831</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_001">1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Claire Pradier as a Child</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_008">8</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Victor Hugo as a Young Man</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_016">16</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Juliette Drouet in the Rôle of La Princesse Négroni</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_024">24</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Juliette Drouet in the Rôle of La Princesse Négroni</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_032">32</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">House in the Village of Les Metz, in the Parish of -Jouy-en-Josas, Seine-et-Oise</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_032">32</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Church of Bièvres, Seine-et-Oise</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_040">40</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Victor Hugo about 1836</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_048">48</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><p class="hang">“<span class="smcap">Le Citoyen Victor Hugo jouant au Congrès de la -Paix</span>”</p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_064">64</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Claire Pradier at Fifteen</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_072">72</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Claire Pradier on her Deathbed</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_080">80</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Juliette Drouet in Jersey</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_088">88</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Victor Hugo in Jersey</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_096">96</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Victor Hugo, his Family, and Juliette Drouet at -Hauteville House</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_104">104</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Juliette Drouet in 1883</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_112">112</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Claire Pradier</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_120">120</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Juliette Drouet about 1830</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_128">128</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">A Page of Juliette Drouet’s Note-book in 1834</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_136">136</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Autograph Letter from Juliette Drouet to her<br /> -daughter Claire</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_144">144</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Victor Hugo</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_160">160</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Caricature of Mlle. George, by Victor Hugo</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_176">176</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Portrait of Victor Hugo by Himself</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_176">176</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Autograph and Drawing by Juliette Drouet</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_192">192</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">The Bridge of Marne</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_208">208</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">A Dedication by Victor Hugo to Juliette Drouet</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_224">224</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Juliette Drouet in 1846</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_232">232</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Victor Hugo, Républicain</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_240">240</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Drawing by Victor Hugo, signed “Toto”</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_256">256</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">The Flower and the Butterfly</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_256">256</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Juliette Drouet’s Hand</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_272">272</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Victor Hugo, by Rodin</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_288">288</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Juliette Drouet about 1877</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_296">296</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">The Deathbed of Victor Hugo</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_304">304</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">A Dedication by Victor Hugo to Juliette Drouet</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_304">304</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Book-plate designed for Juliette Drouet by Victor -Hugo</span></p></td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_312">312</a></td></tr> - -</table> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp1_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp1_sml.jpg" width="381" height="285" alt="THE CHÂTEAU OF FOUGÈRES IN 1836. - -Unpublished drawing by Victor Hugo." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE CHÂTEAU OF FOUGÈRES IN 1836.<br /> -Unpublished drawing by Victor Hugo.</span> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a></p> - -<h1>JULIETTE DROUET’S LOVE-LETTERS<br /> -TO VICTOR HUGO</h1> - -<h2><a name="PART_I" id="PART_I"></a>PART I<br /><br /> -<small><i>BIOGRAPHICAL</i></small></h2> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I<br /><br /> -<small>JULIENNE GAUVAIN</small></h3> - -<p class="nind">A<small>N</small> irregular outline, sombre colouring, a tangle of towers, steeples, -high gables and ramparts, steep passages built in the form of steps: -such was the town of Fougères at the beginning of the nineteenth -century. The principal features of its surroundings were a turbulent -river waging unceasing conflict with numerous mills, uncultivated -wastes, more footpaths than lanes, and more lanes than high-roads.</p> - -<p>This former hot-bed of <i>chouans</i> was an appropriate birthplace for a -heroine of romance—and there, on April 10th, 1806, was born Julienne -Joséphine Gauvain, subsequently known as Mademoiselle Juliette, and -later still, as Madame Drouet.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a></p> - -<p>Her father was a humble tailor living in a suburb of the town, on the -road between Fougères and Autrain; her mother kept the little home. -Madame Drouet was somewhat proud of her humble origin; she wrote: “I am -of the people,” as others might boast “I am well born”; she wished -thereby to explain and excuse her taste for independence, her fiery -temper, and her impulsive nature. She might equally have attributed -these to the neglect she suffered in early infancy.</p> - -<p>For she had no parents to guard or train her. Her mother died on -December 15th, 1806, before the infant could lisp her first words. On -September 12th in the following year the father dragged himself to the -public infirmary at Fougères, and there breathed his last. The infirmary -took over the charge of the orphan, and was about to place her with the -foundlings—indeed, the necessary formalities had already been complied -with—when a protector suddenly came forward, a certain worthy uncle.</p> - -<p>His name was René Henri Drouet. He was thirty-two years old, a -sub-lieutenant of artillery, had seen active service in eight campaigns -under Napoleon, and been wounded in the foot by the blow of an axe. The -wound was such that some very quiet employment had to be provided for -him. The ex-artilleryman was turned into a coast-guard, and dawdled out -a bored existence in the little Breton port where fate confined him -henceforth. He claimed Julienne, and she was handed over to his care.<a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a></p> - -<p>It would be foolish to pretend that this retired warrior was a suitable -person to undertake the training of a little girl. He understood only -how to spoil and caress her. Never did child enjoy a wilder, more -vagabond childhood. Julienne never got to the village school, because on -the way thither glimmered a large pond bordered by clumps of bushes. -Among the latter she would conceal her shoes and stockings, and, wading -into the water, blue as the skies above, gather starry water-lilies. -When she came out, more often than not she failed to find the -hiding-place, and ran home bare-footed, with hair floating in the wind -and a frock torn to ribbons. But she only laughed, and was forgiven -because she made such a winsome picture in her tatters and her wreath of -flowers. Those were halcyon days—days filled with innocent joys and -elemental sorrows: a fruit-tree robbed of its burden under the indulgent -eye of the old coastguard in his green uniform, the death of a tame -linnet. All her life Julienne’s memory would dwell pleasurably on those -early delights. Nothing could curb her natural wildness, not even the -gate of a cloister or the rule of St. Benedict.</p> - -<p>Among René Henri Drouet’s female relations he counted a sister and a -cousin, nuns in a great Parisian convent, the Bernardines-Bénédictines -of Perpetual Adoration. Their house was situated in the Rue du -Petit-Picpus. When Julienne was ten years old he easily managed to have -her admitted to the school attached to the convent, and thenceforth the -orphan’s path in life seemed settled: she should first become a -distinguished pupil, then a pious novice, and lastly a holy nun. But, as -events turned out, Julienne was only to carry out the first part of the -programme.<a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a></p> - -<p>From the description left us by Madame Drouet and transcribed in full -by, Victor Hugo in <i>Les Misérables</i>, the house in the Petit-Picpus was -none too cheerful; its first welcome to the child was more sombre than -any drama she was to figure in, later, as an actress. Padlocked gates, -dark corridors, bare rooms, a chapel where the priest himself was -concealed behind a veil—such was the scene; black phantoms with -shrouded features played the parts; the action was composed of -interminable prayers and stringent mortifications. The -Bernardines-Bénédictines slept on straw and wore hair shirts, which -produced chronic irritation and jerky spasms; they knew not the taste of -meat or the warmth of a fire; they took turns in making reparation, and -no excuse for shirking was permitted. Reparation consisted in prayers -for all the sins and faults of omission and commission, all the crimes -of the world. For twelve consecutive hours the petitioner had to kneel -upon the stone steps in front of the Blessed Sacrament, with clasped -hands and a rope round her neck; when the fatigue became unbearable, she -prostrated herself on her face, with her arms outstretched in the form -of a cross, and prayed more ardently than before for the sinners of the -universe. Victor Hugo, who gathered these details from the lips of -Madame Drouet, declared them sublime, while she who had personally -witnessed their painful passion, retained a profound impression for -life, coupled with a strong sense of Catholicism, and the gift of -prayer.</p> - -<p>Outside of these austerities the pupils of the school conformed to -nearly all the practices of the convent. Like the nuns, they only saw -their parents in the parlour, and were not allowed to embrace them. In<a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a> -the refectory they ate in silence under the eye of the nun on duty, who -from time to time, if so much as a fly flew without permission, would -snap a wooden book noisily. This sound, and the reading of the <i>Lives of -the Saints</i>, were the sole seasoning of the meal. If a rebellious pupil -dared to dislike the food and leave it on her plate, she was condemned -to kneel and make the sign of the cross on the stone floor with her -tongue.</p> - -<p>Neither the licked cross nor the meagre fare ever succeeded in damping -Julienne’s spirits. She preserved the beautiful spontaneity and love of -fun of her early years. She was the spoilt child of the convent where -her aunts, Mother des Anges and Mother Ste Mechtilde, appear to have -wielded a kindly authority. She soon became its <i>enfant terrible</i>. Once, -when she was about twelve years old, she threw herself into the arms of -a nun and cried, devouring the outer walls with her eyes: “Mother, -mother, one of the big girls has just told me I have only got nine years -and ten months more to stay here: what luck!” And another time she -dropped on the pavement of the cloister a confession written on a sheet -of paper so that she might not forget its items: “Father, I accuse -myself of being an adulteress. Father, I accuse myself of having stared -at gentlemen.”</p> - -<p>One might well ask who were the gentlemen concerned, for in the convent -of Petit-Picpus there were no male professors; only the most -distinguished among the nuns assumed the duty of instructing the young -boarders. Judging from the eloquence which will be found later in Madame -Drouet’s letters, the Bernardines-Bénédictines must have accomplished -their task with great thoroughness. Julienne learned<a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a> from them, if not -orthography and cultivated style, at least sincerity, and the point -that, before attempting to write, one should have something to say. She -also studied accomplishments. Mother Ste Mechtilde possessed a beautiful -voice. She was consequently appointed mistress of ceremonies and of the -choir, and used to train her niece and other pupils. Her habit was to -take seven children and make them sing standing in a row according to -their ages, so that they looked like a set of girlish organ-pipes. -History does not relate whether Julienne sang better than the others, -but a little later she began to nurse in secret the idea of utilising -her gifts as a virtuoso. At Petit-Picpus she also learned to sketch and -paint in water-colours. She owed this instruction to the favour of the -pious nuns, who, as a special breach of their rule, authorised her to -take lessons from a young master, Redouté.</p> - -<p>It may not be too bold to declare that Julienne imbibed at the convent -those qualities of tact and restraint, and that air of distinction she -exhibited later in the drawing-rooms of Victor Hugo. To the Convent of -the Bernardines was attached a sort of house of retreat where aged -ladies of rank could end their days, as also nuns of the various orders -whose cloisters had been destroyed during the Revolution. Some of these -preserved within their hearts a generous instinct of maternity, which -Julienne easily managed to waken. She fell into the habit of running -across to break the rule of everlasting silence in that fairly cheerful -environment, and, in defiance of the prohibition against intimacy, she -turned the old ladies into personal friends. She listened attentively, -and remembered much, and forty years later she could<a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a> describe correctly -the names, appearance, and habits of that picturesque group, somewhat -archaic, but invariably courteous and witty.</p> - -<p>Perhaps because of this slight lifting of the veil, Julienne began -already, at the age of sixteen, to fix her eager gaze beyond the -cloister and the gate. Perhaps also some instinct of dignity and -self-respect urged her to learn something of the world before entering -the novitiate to pronounce her vows. However this may be, it seems -certain that, on the solemn occasion of her presentation to the -Archbishop of Paris, Monsignor Quelen, as a postulant, she managed to -convey that her vocation was of the frailest, and her desire for the -world, deeply rooted. The prelate understood, and signified to the nuns -that this particular lamb desired to wander. That very evening Julienne -left the convent.</p> - -<p>Here follows a somewhat obscure interlude in the girl’s life. We meet -her next among the pupils of the sculptor Pradier, in 1825.</p> - -<p>James Pradier: to those of our generation this name recalls merely a -number of groups and statues: statues more graceful than chaste, groups -more elegant than virile; the work of a master who aimed at rivalling -Praxiteles, but only succeeded in treading in the footsteps of Clodion.</p> - -<p>Pradier, however, only needs a careful biographer to acquire another -kind of celebrity: that of an artist, <i>grand viveur</i>, magnificent and -vain, careless and weak, born too late to lead without scandal the -frivolous life he loved, too early to acquire by industry the fortune -needed for the indulgence of his tastes.</p> - -<p>Twice a week his studio was transformed into a drawing-room, and his -receptions were attended<a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a> by a most varied company: painters and poets, -models, actresses, dames of high degree, politicians and men of the -sword—all society, in short, liked to be seen in the Rue de l’Abbaye.</p> - -<p>Clad in high boots, cut low in front, in violet velvet trousers and a -coat of the same material decorated with Polish brandebergs, flanked by -a Scotch greyhound almost as big as himself, the master of the house -received his visitors, listened to them, talked with them, without -interrupting his work; he created fresh marvels with the chisel while -the conversation flowed unrestrained, and thus his labours became -simultaneously a gossip and a spectacle.</p> - -<p>In the novel excitement of surroundings so brilliant, so varied, and of -morals so easy, Julienne committed the imprudence which was to settle -the fate of her whole life. Thanks to her independent spirit, and still -more to her beauty, she very soon established her position in Pradier’s -house. She came there often, remained long, and consented to pose for -him.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>And when, one day, the sculptor desired for himself this flower, so -superior in delicacy and aroma to those usually found in the studios, he -had but to bend down and pluck it.</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp8_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp8_sml.jpg" width="289" height="372" alt="CLAIRE PRADIER AS A CHILD. - -From an unpublished drawing by Pradier." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">CLAIRE PRADIER AS A CHILD.<br /> -From an unpublished drawing by Pradier.</span> -</p> - -<p>He made Julienne his mistress in 1825. In 1826 she gave him a little -daughter whom we shall meet again later. But now arose difficulties of a -practical nature. James Pradier, ex-Prix de Rome, Chevalier de la Légion -d’Honneur, Membre de l’Institut, Pro<a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a>fesseur de l’École des -Beaux-Arts, could not with propriety, according to his ideas, marry a -model. He does not dream of it for an instant, but, as he wishes to do -the girl some kindness, however unsuitable, he manages to insinuate her -into the theatrical world, and to put her on the boards. Having friends -in Brussels, he decrees that she shall go thither to study and make her -first appearance; and, as she needs guidance, advice, and protection, he -writes her almost every day long letters, in which platitudes alternate -with vulgarity. The correspondence continues, wordy and trivial, -interminable and foolish, a repulsive mixture of boasting and preaching. -Does Julienne show distaste for vaudeville, Pradier proclaims that form -of acting to be the most charming in the world, and places it far above -tragedy, which he pronounces tiresome and chilling. If Julienne -complains that she has but one dress, Pradier tells her that only the -leading lights of the stage possess more. If she ventures a timid -request for money, he answers that he has none himself, and offers her a -book of fairy-tales illustrated under his supervision.</p> - -<p>She had to keep herself alive somehow, and when the poor thing had -pledged everything she possessed at the pawnbroker’s, she wrote -plaintively: “This is the only money my talents have earned for me so -far.” She might perhaps have been reduced to some desperate measure, had -not chance placed her in the path of Félix Harel.</p> - -<p>Although an incorrigible Bonapartist, and consequently a conspirator by -trade, Harel seems to have been above all a man of the theatre: in the -midst of his political preoccupations, one can always discern his -predilection for things pertaining to the stage.<a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a> He also had a very -definite conviction that politics and the drama, statesmen and -ballet-dancers, have always been closely linked together. So, whether he -was for the moment pamphleteer, financier, or prefect, whether he was -holding an appointment, or in full flight, he always had a finger in -some theatrical pie, either as a director, a manager, or a private -adviser. At the time he first met Julienne, he was filling the latter -capacity at the Théâtre Royal, in Brussels. He presented the young -woman. Without further training than that which Pradier had directed -from afar, we know that she made her first appearance in Brussels, at -the beginning of the year 1829—to be exact, on February 17th.</p> - -<p>On that day she informs Pradier that her début has been successful, and -that the Brussels press is favourable. He at once thanks Providence and -decides that she can henceforth support herself by her talent. He -writes: “Is not this a great pleasure to you? Does it not lift a weight -from your heart, you who have such a noble soul? How sweet is the bread -one has earned so honourably! For my part, I feel that all your faults -are condoned by the trouble you are taking. Your perseverance will be -rewarded, never doubt it. Go on working! Time can never hang heavy when -one is labouring honestly; study carries more flowers than thorns.”</p> - -<p>Having spoken thus, the artist returned to his business and his -pleasures, not without having exhorted Julienne to remain in Brussels as -long as possible. He was not ignorant of the passionate desire of the -young woman to see her babe once more, but he feared that, if she should -not find an engagement in Paris like the one she enjoyed in Brussels,<a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a> -she would again be, morally at least, on his hands. Therefore, -redoubling his cautious advice and his counsels of prudence, he implored -her not to relinquish a certainty for an uncertainty.</p> - -<p>However, nothing deterred her. Julienne, as she used to say afterwards, -would rather have trudged the distance that separated her from her -child, on foot, than waited any longer. The events of 1829 spared her -the trouble. Owing to certain evidences of internal discontent, the -government of Charles X was developing liberal proclivities. Among other -political exiles, it allowed Félix Harel to return, and with him his -illustrious mistress, Mlle. Georges. Julienne shared their lot. She -accompanied them, not only to Paris, but to the Theatre of the Porte St. -Martin, which, under Harel’s influence, rapidly became the stronghold of -romanticism, and on February 27th, 1830, she made her début on its -boards in the part of Emma, in <i>L’Homme du Monde</i>, by Ancelot and -Saintine. Then she migrated almost at once to the Odéon, of which Harel -had just undertaken the management, without, however, resigning that of -the Porte St. Martin. She played various parts there throughout the year -1831.</p> - -<p>We shall hear later on that she was beautiful, but for the present we -must confine ourselves to the question of her talent and dramatic -qualities. It has been hinted that she owed her success solely to her -lovely face and graceful figure, and that she was one of those ephemeral -favourites who reap popular applause in return for the exhibition of -their charms. The truth seems to be that “la belle Juliette,” as she was -already called, gave proofs of distinguished powers, although one is -fain to admit that, at this<a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a> distance of time, it is not easy to define -her capacity with any exactitude. For one thing, it was never Juliette’s -good fortune to play an important part which has since become a classic, -and by which her true qualities could be gauged: in Harel’s troupe the -first-class parts were already justly monopolised by Mlle. Georges and -Madame Dorval. Also, nearly all the plays in which Juliette appeared are -nowadays looked upon as antiquated and sometimes even absurd. In fact, -it is difficult to conceive how they ever could have been given. It will -be wiser, therefore, to rely mainly on Pradier’s letters to discover -what were the natural gifts which could have inspired that artist to -make of his mistress an actress, and even a tragedian.</p> - -<p>Pradier, then, considered Juliette well equipped by nature in respect of -sentiment, intelligence, and voice production; but he criticised in her -a certain timidity and lack of assurance, sufficient to mar her -entrances and cover her exits with ridicule. He also thought fit to -observe to her that, once she was on the scene, and had overcome her -initial fright, she overacted her parts, and was not sufficiently -natural; she forgot to address herself to the audience, and would speak -into the wings, and neglect to vary her gestures, intonations, and -pauses.</p> - -<p>To sum up, fire, intelligence, and an adequate vocal organ, but shyness, -awkwardness, monotonous delivery, and hesitation in gesture and gait: -such seem to have been the dramatic qualities and shortcomings of “la -belle Juliette.” The testimony of Pradier has been confirmed by that of -<i>L’Artiste</i>. If there is any need to say more, we can judge by an -analysis of her engagements with Harel.</p> - -<p>On February 7th, 1832, Harel signs a contract with<a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a> her for thirteen -months, to begin from the March 1st following. He brings her back from -the Odéon to the Porte St. Martin, and promises her the modest salary of -four thousand francs per annum, payable monthly. But he does not treat -her as a “general utility” actress—on the contrary, he insists that she -keep principally to the part of <i>jeune première</i> in comedy, tragedy, and -drama; that she learn daily at least forty lines or verses of the parts -which shall be allotted to her; that she furnish at her own expense all -the dresses necessary for her parts; that she be present at all -rehearsals called by the administration of the theatre. On January 13th, -1833, the two agree that the engagement shall be prolonged on the same -conditions until April 1st, 1834. Between whiles, Juliette continued to -create parts.</p> - -<p>It must be confessed that she led the customary life of a theatrical -star. From the Boulevard St. Denis, where she lived, to the Boulevard du -Temple, which was then the hub of the social world and the centre of -amusement, the distance was negligible. She was therefore present at -every scene of this ceaseless round of entertainment. Her wardrobe -enjoyed a certain renown. Her journeys, one of which was to Italy -towards the end of 1832, helped to keep her before the public. Beautiful -as a goddess, merrier than ever, her bearing unconcerned, her arm -lightly placed within that of the chance companion of the moment, her -eyes flashing fire, though her heart might be full to bursting, she -sailed towards Cytheræa without apparent regret, without thought of -return. It was at this moment that Victor Hugo succeeded in bringing her -back into port, and keeping her there for ever, the slave of one master, -the woman of one love.<a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a></p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II<br /><br /> -<small>PRINCESSE NÉGRONI</small></h3> - -<p class="nind">T<small>WO</small> portraits of Victor Hugo are extant: one by Devéria executed in -1829, the other by Léon Noël in 1832.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> What a change is visible in the -short space of three years! The “monumental” brow which reminded -Théophile Gautier of the “fronton de temple Grec” is the same; but, -whereas in 1829 it was instinct with lofty thought and pleasant fancies, -in 1832 worry and suspicion have already scored it deeply with lines of -care. In 1829 Devéria recognised and rendered the characteristic -expression of the poet: that bright, upward glance which ten years -before had caused the author of the <i>Odes</i> to be compared to a -stained-glass archangel. In 1832 Léon Noël saw a fixed, overshadowed -gaze, whose severity is further accentuated by knitted brows. In 1829 -fleshy, sinuous lips always half ready for a smile or a kiss, indicate -both sensuality and humour. In 1832 they are tightly compressed, their -outline exaggeratedly firm; they give the impression of having forgotten -joy and learnt to express only will. Even in the quality of the -flesh-tints the artists disagree. According to Devéria the pallor -natural to the poet bears<a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a> the impress of health and placidity, whereas -Léon Noël’s rendering reveals sickliness and a sense of doom.</p> - -<p>What, then, had happened between the dates of the two portraits? Had the -whole character of the poet changed? Had he lost some precious article -of faith or conviction, or was it that the mainspring of his enthusiasm -had failed him? Nay—his soul still cherished the same treasures of -idealism. The former penitent of the Abbé Lammenais still preserved at -thirty his ardent, perhaps even narrow Catholicism, his cult of purity, -his contempt for physical indulgence, his delight in the joys and duties -of family life. Eager for self-sacrifice, rich in the hopes and -illusions he confided to his few intimate friends, he dreamed of sharing -everything with the people, towards whom the trend of events inclined -him to turn; just as he had once written <i>Les Lettres à la fiancée</i> for -a single reader, so he had now published for the crowd <i>Les Feuilles -d’Automne</i>, the curious preface to that collection, and in the -collection itself the sublime <i>Prière pour tous</i>. His was a soul -profoundly religious, and a lofty mind which aspired to raise itself -ever higher.</p> - -<p>But he did not live by thought alone. Many of those who watched him -working without intermission, with a method and a will that defied human -weakness, who saw how numerous were his lectures, how varied his -researches, and who witnessed the incessant travail of his imagination, -thought that the author of <i>Hernani</i> and <i>Dona Sol</i> must be lacking in -human sensibility. He protests against this. In a letter to Sainte-Beuve -he says: “I live only by my emotions; to love, or to crave for love and -friendship, is the fundamental aim—happy or unhappy, public<a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a> or -private—of my life.”<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> He might equally have added: “That is why for -the last two years my brow is no longer placid, why my eyes seek the -ground, why my lips are so bitterly compressed.”</p> - -<p>The secret of the change in Victor Hugo’s physiognomy lies in the -treachery of his wife and his best friend. Love and friendship failed -him together. His moral distress was immense, his pain unfathomable. -They inspired him with plaints so touching that, after hearing them, one -asks oneself whether it can ever be possible for him to forget or -recover. One despairs of the healing of the man who writes: “I have -acquired the conviction that it is possible for the one who possesses -all my love to cease to care for me. I am no longer happy.”<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> - -<p>Calmness did return to him, however. It was thus: For the last ten -years, that is, practically ever since her marriage, Madame Victor Hugo -had behaved in such a manner that when the day of the betrayal, in which -she was the accomplice of his friend, dawned, the poet was able to -consider her with contempt. Although fairly gifted in appearance, she -possessed neither taste nor cleverness in the matter of dress; she had -always shown herself to him in careless attire and unfashionable gowns. -Absent-minded and limited in intelligence, she remained uncultured and -oblivious of the genius of her husband, and of achievements of which she -appreciated only the financial value. In addition, she had declined to -share the noble ideal originally proposed to her by her -twenty-year-old<a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a> bridegroom: love considered as “the ardent and pure -union of two souls, a union begun on earth to end not even in -heaven.”<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> The poet was thus authorised, and even forced, to seek -happiness in the arms of some other woman. If Victor Hugo had wished to -avoid that “other woman “ he would have had to remain for ever concealed -in his tower of ivory—which certainly did not happen.</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp16_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp16_sml.jpg" width="289" height="389" alt="VICTOR HUGO AS A YOUNG MAN. - -In the possession of M. le D. F. Jousseaume." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">VICTOR HUGO AS A YOUNG MAN.<br /> -In the possession of M. le D. F. Jousseaume.</span> -</p> - -<p>He emerged from it in the spring of 1832, on May 26th, and appeared at -an artists’ ball. There he saw Juliette for the first time; but she was -so beautiful and so captivating that he was afraid of her, and dared not -address her. Five years later he recorded this impression of admiring -timidity in the book in which they had agreed to celebrate all their -anniversaries, namely the <i>Voix Intérieures</i>.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> - -<p>For more than six months the poet lacked the courage to seek his vision -again, but in the early days of 1833 he found Juliette among the -actresses Harel suggested to him at the Porte St. Martin for his play, -<i>Lucrèce Borgia</i>. He accepted her at once and gave her a small part, -that of Princesse Négroni. Then the rehearsals began. Juliette admits in -one of her letters that she showed herself very coquettish and -mischievous.</p> - -<p>According to her, the poet made up his mind the first day and the first -hour. But matters did not really proceed so easily. Victor Hugo, who, as -stated above, cherished the highest and purest moral ideal, must have -carried his principles with him into the wings and on the stage. He was -not partial to actresses; he was suspicious of them, and made no<a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a> secret -of the feeling. One must picture him rather as on the defensive than -bold and adventurous.</p> - -<p>His attire and appearance were not calculated to ensure his social -success. We hear from Juliette herself that he wore his hair <i>en -broussaille</i>, and that his smile revealed “crocodile’s teeth.” Allowing -himself to be dressed by his tailor in the fashions of four or five -years earlier, his trousers were firmly braced above the waist, tightly -drawn over his boots, and fastened under the instep by a steel chain. To -sum up, as a dandy who writes these details concludes, he was a worthy -citizen desirous of being in the fashion, but unable to compass it.</p> - -<p>Fortunately the said citizen could speak, and his words of gold were -sufficient to gloss over any personal disadvantages. To men he -discoursed of his hopes and plans, and even his forecasts for the -future; to women of their beauty and the supremacy of such a gift. Men -found his arrogance intolerable, and complained that they must always -either listen, or talk to him of himself. But women liked him for -abasing his pride before them; they appreciated his good manners, his -urbanity, and the incomparable art with which he cast his laurels at -their feet. The god took on humanity for them; they were careful to pose -as goddesses before him. Juliette possessed everything needful to -accomplish this end.</p> - -<p>She was about to enter her twenty-sixth year; very shortly afterwards, -Théophile Gautier wrote this fulsome description of her, to please the -master:</p> - -<p>“Mademoiselle Juliette’s countenance is of a regular and delicate -beauty; the nose chiselled and of handsome outline, the eyes limpid and -diamond-bright, the mouth moistly crimson, and tiny even in<a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a> her gayest -fits of laughter. These features, charming in themselves, are set in an -oval of the suavest and most harmonious form. A clear, serene forehead -like the marble of a Greek temple crowns this delicious face; abundant -black hair, with wonderful reflections in it, brings out the diaphanous -and lustrous purity of her complexion. Her neck, shoulders, and arms, -are of classic perfection; she would be a worthy inspiration to -sculptors, and is well equipped to enter into competition with those -beautiful young Athenians who lowered their veils before the gaze of -Praxiteles conceiving his Venus.<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></p> - -<p>These elegant phrases probably represent very imperfectly the impression -produced by Juliette. We have had the privilege of perusing some of the -proposals addressed to her, and we have read the cruel novel Alphonse -Karr prided himself on having written about her.<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> Everything conspires -to show that she shone and dazzled especially by her all-conquering air -of youth and ingenuousness. When she passed, spring was over. Her age, -condition, manner of life, had made of her a woman, while her smile and -movements kept her still a girl. Her gait was, in fact, so fairy-like -that her admirers all make use, certainly without collusion, of the -adjective, “aérien.” Her face presented a perfect image of calmness and -purity. Did she raise her eyes, a soft, velvety, sometimes mournful gaze -was revealed—did she lower them, it was still the dawn, but a dawn -concealing itself behind a veil.</p> - -<p>All beautiful countenances have a soul; upon Juliette’s could be read -less contentment than un<a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a>satisfied ardour, more melancholy than -serenity. Neither luxury, nor pleasure, nor flattery, was able to -satisfy the dearest desire of her heart from the age of sixteen, which -was, to become the passionate companion of an honest man. She lent -herself to her lovers, but her eyes made it plain that she still sought -the perfect one to whom she would some day capitulate. According to -herself—and we have no reason to doubt her—she selected Victor Hugo as -soon as she made his acquaintance. She expended herself in advances and -coquetries, and infused into the study and expression of her small part -all the art of which she was capable. In the third act of the play, when -Maffio said to her: “<i>L’amitié ne remplit pas tout le cœur</i>,” she had -to query: “<i>Mon Dieu, qu’est-ce qui remplit tout le cœur?</i>” It seems -that at rehearsals she did not wait for Maffio’s answer, but turned -subtly towards the poet and sought him with her eyes. He, however, still -hung back; a tradition attributed to Frédérick Lemaître, which we have -carefully verified,<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> informs us that he surprised even the actors of -the Porte St. Martin by the respectful tone he maintained towards his -beautiful interpreter. Far from addressing her in the familiar manner -customary in theatrical circles, he called her Mademoiselle Juliette, -kissed her hand, and bowed low before her. Frédérick could not believe -his eyes.</p> - -<p>At last the evening of the first performance arrived; the success of the -piece was immediate. Juliette had her share of it. She was so beautiful -as the poisoner that, as Théophile Gautier says, the public forgot to -pity her unhappy guests and thought them<a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a> fortunate to die after kissing -her hand.<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> After the third act she received congratulations even from -Mademoiselle Georges, who folded her in her arms and covered her with -kisses. As for the author, we do not know what he did in the first -blush, but the next morning he wrote thus:</p> - -<p>“In <i>Lucrèce Borgia</i>, certain personages of secondary importance are -represented at the Porte St. Martin by actors of the first order, who -perform with grace, loyalty, and perfect taste, in the semi-obscurity of -their parts. The author here thanks them. Among these, the public -particularly distinguished Mademoiselle Juliette. It can hardly be said -that Princesse Négroni is a part: it is in some sense an apparition; a -figure, beautiful, young, fatal, which floats by, raising one corner of -the sombre veil that covers Italy at the commencement of the sixteenth -century. Mademoiselle Juliette threw into this figure an extraordinary -virility. She had few words to say, but she filled them with meaning. -This actress only requires opportunity, to reveal forcibly to the public -a talent full of soulfulness, passion, and truth.”<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></p> - -<p>Nothing could be better said or more openly declared, and the -interpreter of the part was thus informed of the intentions of the -author. He adopts her, makes her his own, is ready to share his own -glory with the youthful renown of Négroni. For her he will conceive -marvellous parts; she will create them.</p> - -<p>Juliette understood him perfectly. With the ardour of a -twenty-five-year-old imagination excited by love, she began to dream of -her poet, of their<a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a> two lives henceforward united in a common success. -While Victor still wavered, still hesitated whether to seek this actress -of whom thousands of alarming anecdotes were current, she made foolish -projects, settled trivial details, savoured one by one those joys of the -dawn of love which so many women prefer to the delights of possession.</p> - -<p>He came at last on February 27th, Shrove Sunday, towards the end of the -afternoon. The weather had been beautiful, one of those soft spring days -that enhance the beauty of Parisian women and make the men pensive. The -streets were littered with booths, noisy with fireworks, discordant with -raucous voices. The Boulevard du Temple exploited a fair where, on that -particular day, masks and songs added variety and movement.</p> - -<p>Victor Hugo, who lived in the Place Royale and never drove in a cab, had -to cross this scene on foot. His thoughts were still confused; he, who -was ordinarily so determined in his plans, still debated whether he -should mount the actress’s stairs. After all, this child seemed fond of -him—but whom was she not fond of? Who was there that did not figure on -the list of her lovers? Yesterday, Alphonse Karr, loutish, a babbler, a -writer of romances, fairly honest, but so ponderous in his pretentious -and everlasting coat of black velvet! To-day a Russian Prince who was -said to have offered Juliette a marvellous trousseau, copied from the -wedding outfit of Madame la Duchesse d’Orléans. He was also credited -with the intention of installing her in a sumptuous apartment in the Rue -de l’Échiquier.... What should a poet, a great poet conscious of his -mission, want with such a girl?</p> - -<p>Then a voice sang in the memory of Victor Hugo, a<a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a> voice almost -supernatural, like those with which he used to endow the good fairies in -the days when he covered the margins of his lesson-books with fancies. -“<i>Mon Dieu</i>,” it wailed, “<i>qu’est-ce qui remplit tout le cœur?</i>” And -at last the poet walked up to place the answer at the feet of his new -friend.</p> - -<p>Like all great hearts, Victor and Juliette fell head over ears in love, -and thought of nothing else. The poet was no longer to be found in the -Place Royale, or, if he was, he remained abstracted, a stranger at his -own hearth. He, usually so precise, so punctual and methodical, now -neglects his guests and is late for meals. When evening comes and his -drawing-room is filled with voices, song, and discussion, and with women -who smile upon him and men who render him homage, he forgets everything, -even to be polite. His eye is on the clock, he longs for the blessed -hour of the <i>rendezvous</i> at 9, Rue St. Denis. Sometimes he snatches up a -stray sheet of paper and scribbles feverishly. Verse or prose? More -often it is verse, for it will be offered to Juliette, and nothing -flatters her so much as these poetical surprises created in the midst of -the din and diversions of a social circle.</p> - -<p>Neither did she give herself in niggardly fashion. From the very -beginning she said to him: “I am good for nothing but to love you!” She -threw herself thoroughly, magnificently, into the part.</p> - -<p>Thus quoth she—and wrote likewise, for she, also, wrote from -everywhere: from her room, from a friend’s house, from her box at the -theatre, from a chance café. For her tender “scribbles,” as she calls -them, any scrap of paper will serve, even an envelope or the margin of a -newspaper; and for instrument a pencil, a blackened pin, even a steel -pen, that novel<a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a> invention of which every one is talking, but which she -hardly knows how to use.</p> - -<p>Of the form of her letters she takes little heed. No lexicon is needed -to say that one loves. A woman in the throes of passion does not worry -about grammar. Juliette is of that opinion, and that is why her early -letters are so full of charm. They exhale the perfume of love, and also -its timidity.</p> - -<p>Her letters were not merely a means of giving vent to her feelings: they -seemed to her the only occupation fit for a sweetheart worthy of the -name, when the lover is absent or delayed. On February 18th, 1833, -Victor Hugo had left her early in the morning. She had rushed to the -window to follow him with her eyes as long as he was in sight. At the -corner of the Rue St. Denis, as he was about to turn into the Rue St. -Martin, he looked back; they exchanged a volley of kisses. Then she -found herself lonely indeed, oblivious of her surroundings, like a -somnambulist who walks and speaks and acts in a dream. Around her was an -immense void, in her heart one sole desire: to see the poet again, and -never to part from him. It was to fill that void and beguile that desire -that she took up the habit of writing to him.</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp24_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp24_sml.jpg" width="285" height="454" alt="JULIETTE DROUET IN THE RÔLE OF LA PRINCESSE NÉGRONI." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">JULIETTE DROUET IN THE RÔLE OF LA PRINCESSE NÉGRONI.</span> -</p> - -<p>He, on his part, repaid letters and messages as much as possible with -his own presence. Any time he could snatch from his children and work -and visits to publishers or theatre-managers, he gave to Juliette. As -<i>Lucrèce Borgia</i> continued to reap a signal success—the greatest, from -the financial point of view, that the Porte St. Martin had ever -experienced—Harel asked the author for a new play. Victor Hugo wrote -<i>Marie Tudor</i> in very few days, and the principal parts had just been -allotted: to Mademoiselle Georges<a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a> the Queen, to Juliette, Jane. Under -pretext of rehearsing, we find our lovers lunching together almost every -day. If there was really a rehearsal, they met again afterwards on the -stage, and tasted the rare pleasure of sharing their work, as they -shared their pleasure. When they did not rehearse, they hurried out of -town. Furtively yet boldly, timidly but merrily, they started on one of -those strolls, partly Parisian, and partly suburban, which, according to -Juliette, were the chief enchantment of their <i>liaison</i>.</p> - -<p>Paris was not then the dusty conglomeration of eight-story-high houses -it now is. Instead of spreading over the surrounding country, it allowed -the country to encroach upon itself. At the foot of Montmartre (which -Juliette always calls a <i>mountain</i>), real windmills waved their long -arms; along the Butte aux Cailles a genuine brook purled among the -lilacs and syringa; on the summit of Montparnasse, when there was -dancing, artists and poets, dandies and grisettes, trod actual grass, to -the sound of fiddles! Juliette had always in her a strain of -bohemianism. We may therefore picture her in short, striped, pleated -skirt, tight at the waist but flowing out wide at the bottom over white -stockings, a little silken cape covering her queenly young bosom, -without concealing its fine lines, her head surmounted by a rose-trimmed -bonnet with black ribbons, clasping the arm of her “friend” with -sparkling eyes and cheeks as rosy as her headdress. Happiness, as she -used to say in after-days, is so light to carry, that her feet hardly -touched the ground. Her pride in her companion was such that her glance -defied Heaven. “When I hold your arm,” she wrote to him, “I am as proud -as if I had made you myself.”<a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a></p> - -<p>She did <i>re</i>make him, to a certain extent, for it was she who insisted -upon his becoming younger and smarter in appearance. He now trained his -chestnut locks over his Olympian brow, in careful but unromantic -fashion; his black eyes, with their blue depths, resumed their upward -glance, when they were not plunged in those of his mistress; his -complexion, which had been so pale, now gained colour, and soon, when -Auguste de Châtillon paints the poet’s miniature for Juliette’s -pleasure, he will be able to endow him with lips less eloquent than -caressing, without straying from the truth. “The dear little -fashionable,” as his companion called him, compressed his sturdy figure -into a really handsome blue coat opening over a shot waistcoat. His -immaculate linen, and the scarlet ribbon of the order Charles X had -bestowed upon him in his youth, stood out in pleasant contrast to the -sombre hue of his coat. His tiny feet, and hands as delicate as -Juliette’s own, completed this somewhat incongruous exterior.</p> - -<p>And the two made expeditions together, wherever they knew of, or hoped -to find, moss and trees, and an attractive shelter. They went to -Montmartre and Montrouge, to Maison Blanche and St. James, to Bicêtre -and Meudon, Fontainebleau, Gisors, St. Germain-en-Laye, and Versailles. -Sometimes the poet pondered his work as he walked. Silence was then the -order of the day; so Juliette was silent. But more often they talked, -made plans for the future, babbled merry nonsense, and exchanged kisses. -Or else they discussed their past: Victor told of his studious childhood -spent poring over books, of his early works, laborious and chaste. -Juliette recalled her bare-footed<a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a> school-girl pranks. Both gloried in -the radiant memories of their youth.</p> - -<p>But in the midst of those halcyon days of simple pleasures, Fate began -to show herself unkind. First came the failure of <i>Marie Tudor</i>, then -Juliette’s disappointment at the Comédie Française, and, in addition, -the persecution of her creditors and the consequent quarrels with Victor -Hugo, with their subsequent scenes of tender reconciliation.</p> - -<p>The poor girl was, in fact, overwhelmed with debt. When Victor Hugo, -desirous of setting her free for ever, asked her to draw up a detailed -statement of her affairs, she nearly broke down under the task, for -there were not only ordinary bills, such as 12,000 fr. to Janisset the -jeweller, 1,000 fr. to Poivin the glove-maker, 600 fr. to the laundress, -260 fr. to Georges the hair-dresser, 400 fr. to Villain the purveyor of -rouge, 620 fr. to Madame Ladon, dressmaker, 2,500 fr. to Mesdames -Lebreton and Gérard for dress materials, 1,700 fr. to Jourdain the -upholsterer—but also fictitious and usurious debts intended to disguise -money loans, and all the more numerous because they were for the most -part invented under the direction of an attorney who answered to the -name of Manière. She took good care not to reveal to Victor Hugo, whose -own burdens, and practical, economical mind, she was well acquainted -with, the amount of her expenditure and the magnitude of her -liabilities. The moment came, however, when the creditors realised that -they had to deal with a pretty woman inefficiently vouched for by a -poet. They lost patience and threatened her, and it was then that -Juliette had recourse to money-lenders. The remedy was worse than the -evil. Stamped paper soon flooded her rooms. Her furni<a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a>ture was seized, -and also her salaries from the Théâtre Français and the Porte St. -Martin. She tried to save a few clothes, and was had up for illegally -making away with the creditors’ property. Her landlord threatened her -with expulsion; she imagined herself homeless, and lost her head.</p> - -<p>Instead of confiding in Victor Hugo, her natural protector, she had -recourse to former friends. There were many such, from Pradier, the -sculptor, to Séchan, the scene-painter of the Opera and other theatres. -Pradier replied with advice; he was not without just pretext for -refusal, for, since her intrigue with Victor Hugo, Juliette no longer -wrote to the father of her child except “<i>par accident et monosyllabes</i>” -or else in a school-girl’s handwriting, calculated to cover the pages in -very few words. Séchan and a few others were less stingy; they sent -small but quite insufficient contributions. She was therefore forced to -take the big step of revealing the whole truth to the beloved.</p> - -<p>The scene was stormy, although Victor Hugo did not hesitate for a moment -before complying with an obligation that was also a satisfaction, since -it secured his possession of Juliette. Fussy and meticulous though he -was in the small circumstances of life, he knew how to be generous and -even lavish in the great—but Juliette’s petty deceptions had infused -doubts in his mind; moreover, he was in love and therefore jealous. -Towards the end of 1833 and in the early part of 1834, suspicion, anger, -unjust recriminations and noisy quarrels became almost daily affairs. As -invariably happens in these cases, friends, male and female, interfered. -Juliette was slandered by Mademoiselle Ida Ferrier, her understudy in -the rôle of<a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a> Jane at the Porte St. Martin—who would, if rumour may be -trusted, have gladly understudied her also in the heart of Victor -Hugo—also by Mademoiselle Georges, who was getting on in years<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> and -could not forgive the lovers for not acknowledging her sovereignty in -the green-room and drawing-room as they admitted it upon the stage. To -aspersions and reproaches Juliette opposed, not only indignation, but -angry words, violent retorts, and sometimes even insulting epithets; or -else she protested in innumerable letters and notes, rendered eloquent -by their sincerity. She complained that she was “attacked without the -means of defence, soiled without opportunity of cleansing herself, -wounded without chance of healing”; she affirmed her intention of -putting an end to the situation by suicide or final rupture. Generally -Victor Hugo arrived in time to calm her frenzy with a caress or a -soothing word, and then Juliette would try to resign herself and let -hope spring uppermost once more. But Victor Hugo, under the influence of -some new tittle-tattle, resumed his grand-inquisitorial manner, and the -tone, words, reproaches and even threats appertaining to the part. The -creditors continued to harry her without intermission; so in the end the -couple passed from words to actions.</p> - -<p>As we have stated above, Juliette’s furniture had been seized, and she -was about to be turned out of her apartment in the Rue de l’Échiquier. -She had endeavoured vainly to interest her friends, past and present, in -her difficulties. Even Victor Hugo, disheartened probably by the -difficulties of the task, had<a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a> returned a refusal. The lovers therefore -exchanged farewells which they thought final, and on August 3rd Juliette -started for St. Renan, near Brest, where her sister, Madame Kock, was -living. Happily she travelled by the Rennes diligence, and there were -many halts on the way. From the very first of these she sent an adoring -letter to the poet. She wrote again from Rennes, from Brest once more, -and lastly from St. Renan. Victor Hugo responded with expressions of -poignant regret and remorse, according to those who have read them. He -promised to do his very best to find the few necessary banknotes to -satisfy the biggest creditors. In the end, he set out for Rennes -himself, and rejoined his friend. The lovers returned to Paris on August -10th.</p> - -<p>Now commences the most singular period of the life of Juliette, one -which has been aptly entitled an “amorous redemption after the romantic -manner.”<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> For nearly two years Victor Hugo, taking his mistress as -the subject of his experiment, put into practice the theories, in part -religious, and in part philosophical, which he professed concerning -courtesans, namely: the expiation of faults by faithful, passionate, -disinterested love; love itself being considered as a species of -<i>sesame</i>, capable of opening wide the doors of science, and throwing -light upon all hidden things.</p> - -<p>The first condition of redemption was poverty, voluntarily, almost -joyously, accepted. The furniture of the Rue de l’Échiquier must be sold -and the beautiful rooms given up. A tiny apartment consisting of two -rooms and a kitchen was taken for Juliette at No. 4, Rue du Paradis au -Marais, at a<a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a> yearly rental of 400 fr. There she shivered through the -winter, and spent part of her days in bed to economise her fuel; but at -least she proved that she loved truly and was deserving of love.</p> - -<p>No more dresses or jewels ... every evening Victor Hugo repeated to his -mistress that dress adds nothing to the charms of a lovely woman, that -it is waste of time to try to add to nature where nature herself is -beautiful; and proudly, as if indeed she were clothed in the hair-shirt -of her former mistresses at the convent, Juliette wrote: “My poverty, my -clumsy shoes, my faded curtains, my metal spoons, the absence of all -ornament and pleasure apart from our love, testify at every hour and -every minute, that I love you with all my heart.”</p> - -<p>But there can be no true reformation or conversion without work. So -Juliette must work; she must study her parts, make her clothes and even -some of Victor Hugo’s, patch others, keep her little house in order, and -spend what leisure she can snatch, in copying the works of the master, -cutting out extracts from the newspapers, classifying and collecting his -manuscripts and proofs.</p> - -<p>When he had completed this splendid programme, of which almost every -part, as we shall presently see, was carried out to the letter, the poet -experienced an overpowering need to find himself alone somewhere with -the woman he had finally subjugated. His mind was still quite Virgilian. -He had not yet arrived at confusing duty with politics and happiness -with popularity. His greatest enjoyment, next to love, was in rural -pursuits, and for the indulgence of these he flattered himself he had -discovered in Juliette a companion worthy of himself. The lovers had<a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a> -barely settled in the Rue du Paradis au Marais before they went off to -the valley of Bièvres. Half mystics, half pagans, worshipping equally at -the shrines of the forest divinities and those of the village churches, -they entered upon the consummation of what they themselves called their -“marriage of escaped birds.”<a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a></p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp32a_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp32a_sml.jpg" width="219" height="231" alt="JULIETTE DROUET IN THE RÔLE OF LA PRINCESSE NÉGRONI." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">JULIETTE DROUET IN THE RÔLE OF LA PRINCESSE NÉGRONI.</span> -</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp32b_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp32b_sml.jpg" width="219" height="185" alt="HOUSE IN THE VILLAGE OF LES METZ, IN THE PARISH OF -JOUY-EN-JOSAS, SEINE-ET-OISE, - -In which Juliette Drouet lived while Victor Hugo was staying at Les -Roches. This is the house referred to in La Tristesse d’Olympio." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">HOUSE IN THE VILLAGE OF LES METZ, IN THE PARISH OF -JOUY-EN-JOSAS, SEINE-ET-OISE,<br /> -In which Juliette Drouet lived while Victor Hugo was staying at Les -Roches. This is the house referred to in La Tristesse d’Olympio.</span> -</p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III<br /><br /> -<small>“LA TRISTESSE D’OLYMPIO”</small></h3> - -<p class="nind">I<small>N</small> the neighbourhood of Paris, about four miles from Versailles, nestles -a valley which the modern devotees of romance should deem worthy of a -visit. Not because it boasts of any special features, such as mighty -torrents thundering from giddy heights into abysmal precipices below—on -the contrary, its character is harmonious and serene, more like a French -park decked with flowers by nature, and watered by chance—but because -in these classic surroundings, about the year 1830, circumstances led -the great men of the new school to seek temporary repose for their -fretted souls. To us, these peaceful meadows, flanked by pensive willows -weeping on the borders of the silent Bièvres, must evermore be peopled -by those troubled shades: by Lammenais, the priestly keeper of -consciences, Montalembert, the angelic doctor, Sainte-Beuve, the -purveyor of ideas, Berlioz, the musician, and, lastly, by the poet, -Victor Hugo, who followed meekly in the rear, while awaiting the glory -of conducting the procession.</p> - -<p>They used to arrive in the summer, some for a couple of days, others for -weeks together, to stay with Monsieur Bertin, editor of the <i>Journal des -Débâts</i> and owner of Les Roches,<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> a property situated midway<a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a> between -the villages of Bièvres and Jouy-en-Josas. Genial and lively, as Ingres -represents him in his celebrated portrait, Monsieur Bertin loved to -divine, promote, and, where needful, encourage their vocations and -plans. His housekeeping was on a modest scale, but his hospitality -delightful—a mixture of go-as-you-please and kindly despotism; perfect -freedom outwardly, but, in reality, careful ministrations skilfully -disguised. Louise Bertin, the eldest daughter of the old man, and one of -the muses of the period, willingly divided her time between the kitchen -and the drawing-room, cookery-books and poems. As an ardent musician, -tolerably familiar with the best literature, her mind was full of -quaintness, while her heart was instinct with kindliness. When, -perchance, she had surfeited her guests with sonatas and song, she would -be seized with fear lest she should be interfering with their habits or -inclinations, and would hastily substitute anarchy, by commanding each -one to choose his own occupation, and pursue his meditation, walk, or -game unhindered.</p> - -<p>Of them all, Victor Hugo seems to have been the girl’s favourite, and -the one who made the largest use of this generous welcome and charming -liberty. As soon as the periwinkles blossomed, he settled his wife and -children at Les Roches, while he himself came and went between Paris and -Bièvres. Gradually he grew to associate the valley with his joys and -sorrows; it became one of those familiar haunts to which one -instinctively turns, with the comforting assurance of finding there the -outward conditions suitable to one’s moods. As a young father, he made -it the fitting frame for family joys; when his love was flung back in -his face and his friendship betrayed, he returned<a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a> to seek, if not -consolation, at least faith and hope for the future. A year later, again -under the shelter of Les Roches, he thought he had found solace. The -valley meant something more than an invitation to dawdle: it filled him -with sensuous suggestion; he longed to place his ideal of an -unquenchable love at the feet of a woman, and to pronounce the word -“Forever.”</p> - -<p>With the connivance of Madame Victor Hugo, who shut her eyes, and that -of Mademoiselle Louise Bertin, who smiled her toleration,<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> this -happiness came to him at length; not indeed in the first year of his -passion for Juliette, but in the early part of the second. He brought -his mistress to Bièvres and to Jouy on July 4th, 1834, a little before -the tragic crisis that so nearly separated the lovers, as we have -related in the foregoing chapter.</p> - -<p>Juliette immediately fell in love with the scenes the poet had so often -and so eloquently described to her. Of their joint visit to the Écu de -France, the little inn at Jouy-en-Josas,<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> she drew up, in fun, one of -those mock official reports in which she excelled. They decided to -return and lunch, no matter where, or how, provided it was neither too -near nor too far from Les Roches. Then they set out in quest of rooms, -which they eventually found in the hamlet of Metz, on the summit of the -hill above Jouy on the northern side. They returned to Paris after -paying<a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a> over to the proprietor, Sieur Labussière, the sum of 92 frs. for -a year’s rent. Thither they came in September for a sojourn of six -weeks, after the troubled interval described above.</p> - -<p>The little house does not seem to have been altered at all.<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> It was -originally built for the game-keeper of the neighbouring château, which -belonged to Cambacérès. It still spreads its white frontage, pierced -with green-shuttered windows, against the background of woods. It -consists only of a ground-floor and an attic; a rambling vine covers its -walls; around it are scattered a barn, some outhouses, and an orchard, -whose steep sides slope downwards to a gate opening on to the Jouy road.</p> - -<p>With the assistance of the landlady, Mère Labussière, as she calls her, -Juliette undertook to perform the lighter tasks of housekeeping in the -mornings, and it was understood that Victor Hugo should visit her every -afternoon unless some grave impediment prevented him.</p> - -<p>But the walk from Les Roches to Les Metz was long: not much under two -miles, by rough roads. The lovers agreed therefore to meet half-way, by -a path settled beforehand, and to abandon the Labussière roof-tree for -some leafy bower. Thus began, as Juliette writes, their “bird-life in -the woods.”</p> - -<p>Victor Hugo had a choice of three ways when he went to meet his lady. -One led across the valley of<a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a> Bièvres; another, along the pavement,<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> -as the high road from Bièvres to Versailles was called; and lastly there -was the woodland path, which they both preferred. Victor Hugo started by -the Vauboyau road, plunged into the woods skirting the boundary of the -Château of Les Roches, then, turning to the left, walked straight on as -far as the four cross-roads at l’Homme Mort, and bore to the right -towards the Cour Roland. There, in the hollow of a hundred-year-old -chestnut-tree, all bent and twisted, his lady-love would be awaiting -him.</p> - -<p>Clad in a dress of white jaconet striped with pink, such as she usually -affected, her head covered with an Italian straw hat, left over from the -days of her former affluence, with swelling bosom, rosy cheeks, and -smiling mouth, she resembled a flower springing from the rude calyx -formed by the aged tree. A wide-awake flower, indeed, for, from the -first sign of the approach of Victor Hugo, she would fly to him, and -afford him one more opportunity of admiring the far-famed aerial gait, -that fairy footstep, so light that it had been compared to the sound of -a lyre.</p> - -<p>Then followed kisses, caresses, a flood of soft words, more kisses, and -a rapid rush into the cool green depths whither the twitter of birds -invited them. When they issued forth again, silent now, Juliette walked -first, making it a point of honour to push aside the branches and thorns -before her poet; and he was content, gazing upon the tiny traces left -upon<a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a> the moss or sand by the feet that looked almost absurd by reason -of their minuteness.</p> - -<p>At the far end of a clearing a fountain burbled. Juliette made a hollow -of her little hands and collected a delicious draught for their burning -lips. Drops dribbled from between her fingers, and, seeing them, her -lover knew that here was a fairy able to “transmute water into -diamonds.”<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a></p> - -<p>We must not imagine, however, that the treasure of their love expended -itself entirely in this sportive fashion. If it be true that passion is -the stronger for an admixture of intellect, it follows that only persons -of distinguished parts are capable of extracting the full measure of -delight from sentimental intercourse. Victor Hugo was far too wise to -neglect the training of the sensibilities of his young mistress. Like -some block of rare marble, she submitted herself to this able sculptor -in the charming simplicity of a nature somewhat uncultivated and rugged, -as she herself owns, and he perceived in the formless material the -growing suggestion of the finished statue he was soon to evolve. The -forest was the studio whither he came every afternoon to cultivate, -through novel sensations and delights, his own poetry and eloquence. The -forest gave him colour for colour, music for music....</p> - -<p>At other times Victor Hugo encouraged in Juliette an inclination for -prayer and tearful repentance. He retained, and she had always -possessed, strong Catholic sensibilities. The mere satisfaction of -sensuality without the hallowing influence of absorbing love spelt -defilement, from their point of view. Hence followed painful remorse for -a past which the lover<a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a> liked to hear his mistress bewail, and which she -despaired of ever redeeming. Her <i>rôle</i> was the abasement of Magdalen; -his, the somewhat strained attitude of an apostle or saviour.</p> - -<p>Nothing could be more peaceful or uneventful than Juliette’s evenings. -She devoured with the appetite of an ogress the frugal supper put before -her by Madame Labussière, repaired the damage done to her clothes by the -afternoon’s ramble, or studied some of the parts in which she hoped to -appear sooner or later at the Théâtre Français. At ten o’clock she went -to bed. This was the much-prized moment of her solitude, when she -retired, as she says, into the happy background of her heart to rehearse -in spirit the simple events and delights of the day, to recall the face -of her lover, see him, speak to him, and hang upon his answers; then, as -drowsiness gradually gained the upper hand and clouds dimmed the dear -outline, to surrender to slumber. It was at Les Metz that she coined the -happy phrase: “I fall asleep in the thought of you.” Sometimes the wind -moaning in the heights awoke her, and she resumed her sweet musing. The -poet was in the habit of working at night; she would picture him in his -room at Les Roches, bending over his writing-table. Then she “blessed -the gale that made her the companion of the dear little workman’s vigil -across the intervening space.”</p> - -<p>As soon as dawn broke she was up again. She jumped out of bed, ran to -the window, opened the shutters, and interrogated the heavens—not that -she feared rain, any more than she minded “blisters on her feet or -scratches on her hands"—but she had only two dresses, a woollen and a -linen, and the<a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a> condition of the weather controlled her choice of the -two. Her toilet was rapid, her breakfast simple. She spent the remaining -time copying the manuscripts confided to her by Victor Hugo. Then, -lightly running, as she says, like a hare across the plain, she started -for the rendezvous. As becomes a loving woman, she was always first at -the trysting-tree. She scrutinised the intertwined initials she herself -had carved upon its bark, or conned again from memory the verses she had -found the day before in its hollow trunk. She “sings them in her heart,” -presses them to her bosom, and kisses the letters she has brought in -answer.</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp40_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp40_sml.jpg" width="455" height="281" alt="CHURCH OF BIÈVRES, SEINE-ET-OISE." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">CHURCH OF BIÈVRES, SEINE-ET-OISE.</span> -</p> - -<p>For the chestnut-tree served them as a letter-box as well as a shelter. -According to an arrangement between them, the first thing they did on -arrival was to deposit within its friendly shade everything they had -written in the course of the preceding day for, or about, one another. -On Juliette’s part, especially, the letters became more and more -numerous: two, four, sometimes six per day. She no longer wrote, as at -first, to expatiate upon her passion or assure the poet that she loved -him with real love, or to relieve boredom and make the hours of her -solitude pass more quickly. She wrote because Victor Hugo, who had -formerly been indifferent to her “scribbles,” now exacted them as a -daily tribute, and reproached her if they were too brief or not numerous -enough. This jealous lover had discovered the advantages of a pretty -woman’s mania for writing. When thus occupied, he reflected, she is -contented. He also found that her letters were full of enthusiasm, -humour, feeling, fun, and poetry, and he therefore desired that they -should be preserved; one day, when Juliette<a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a> had thrown a packet of -them into the fire in a fit of temper, he made her write them all over -again. Juliette might protest prettily, entrench herself behind her -ignorance, and allege her want of intelligence; but the more she pleaded -that she knew not how to write, the more her lover insisted upon her -doing so. No one has ever carried to greater lengths that form of -affectation which consists in vilifying oneself in order to gain praise. -Having thus placed herself, as far as her style is concerned, in the -kneeling position she prefers, Juliette remains there. It is at Les Metz -that her letters commenced to be a hymn of praise in honour of her -divinity. Adoration and excessive adulation are their basis; for form -and imagery, Juliette does not hesitate to borrow from the sacred -writings she had studied at the Convent of Petit-Picpus. Sooth to say, -this mixture of religiosity and passion presents an aspect both -disproportionate and pathetic. When love raises itself—or degrades -itself—to this almost mystical adoration, one cannot be surprised if it -ends by believing in its own virtue. Having adopted the forms of -religion, it insensibly acquires its importance and dignity; it ennobles -itself.</p> - -<p>We do not possess Victor Hugo’s answers, but partly from the note-books -in which his lady-love punctiliously copied and dated the poems -addressed to her, and partly from the dates inscribed at the bottom of -each page in the collected works of the poet, we know which of his -verses were composed during his sojourn at Les Metz. It is not too much -to say that the author of <i>Feuilles d’Automne</i> was never more happily -inspired. Nowhere did he more closely approach the classical model he -had chosen at that time, the gentle Virgil.<a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a></p> - -<p>The lovers returned to Les Metz twice: once in October 1837 for a few -days, and again, for a day, on September 26th, 1845. In 1837 it was -Victor Hugo who directed the expedition and took the lead. He sought one -by one the traces of their <i>amours</i>; his eccentric genius admired -nature’s grand indifference, which had failed to preserve them intact -for his honour and pleasure, and, deploring this ingratitude concerning -outward things, he composed that masterpiece, <i>La Tristesse d’Olympio</i>. -He laid it at the feet of Juliette, who accepted it, read and reread it, -and learnt it by heart, without criticising it.</p> - -<p>In 1845, the pilgrimage was hers; she planned it and begged for it, -writing on August 19th: “I have an inexpressible longing to see Les Metz -again. We absolutely must go there.”<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a></p> - -<p>They did. Early in the month of September Juliette arranged the little -journey. Which dress should she wear? The striped organdy one, or the -blue tarlatan shot with white, she had worn a few months previously, at -the reception of St. Marc Girardin at the Académie Française? She chose -the former because her lover preferred it; the same reason determined -her to wear a straw hat “trimmed with geraniums above and below the -brim.” Thus decked, with cheeks rosier than usual, and eyes glowing, -Juliette climbed with her poet into the omnibus from Paris to Sceaux.</p> - -<p>Victor Hugo disliked omnibuses, and especially that one. He remembered -his many drives in it with his friend Sainte-Beuve, at the time the -latter was most assiduous in his visits to Les Roches, and in<a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a> spite of -himself he seemed to see the ghost of Joseph Delorme in the back seat, -with his ecclesiastical appearance, and his mania for nestling cosily -between two fat people. Silently the poet dwelt upon these memories, -while Juliette volubly recalled others. She wondered whether they would -find the beggar at the foot of the Bièvres hill, into whose hands she -had often emptied her purse, in order that alms should bring them luck, -and whether the baker in the Square still made those little tarts her -lover used to be so fond of. At last the omnibus deposited them at -Bièvres in front of the Chariot d’Or. The striped organdy dress created -a great sensation among the village children. Juliette rushed off to the -little church; nothing was changed—the same simplicity, the same -silence, the same brooding peace as in the old days. The young woman -fell on her knees, then, together, the lovers returned to the Chariot -d’Or, breakfasted, and started to walk to Les Roches. There again, in -Juliette’s opinion, everything was unchanged. To the left, behind tall -grasses, the river flowed unseen and unheard. In deference to the needs -of man and those of the valley, its course had been diverted, and it now -spread itself through meadows and orchards. Its presence could be -divined from the abundance of flowers and reeds born of its moisture. -When they reached Les Roches, Juliette insisted upon abandoning the -valley for the forest. They ascended through Vauboyau to the wood of -l’Homme Mort. She walked straight to a chestnut-tree which she said she -recognised; then she found a mountain-ash upon whose bark she had once -carved their interlaced initials; after that the spring, and the paths. -She wished to revisit what<a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a> she called “the chapels of their love,” to -pay at each one a tribute of devotion.<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a></p> - -<p>At length they reached Les Metz and the house of the Labussière. -Delirious enchantment! Everything was just as she remembered it: the -gate, the bell, the kitchen-garden, the mile-stone upon which she used -to sit to watch for her lover when the <i>rendezvous</i> was at the cottage; -the bed, with its curtains of printed cotton, the rustic wardrobe, the -oak table.... “Heaven,” she cried, “has put a seal upon all the -treasures of love we buried here! It has preserved them for us,” and she -longed to take possession of them all and carry them away with her.<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></p> - -<p>How charming Juliette is at this moment, and how superior to <i>Olympio</i>! -How preferable is her enthusiasm, with its power of bringing back to -life the dead past, to the melancholy which disparages and kills! One -sole interest animates her. Her instinct is creative, for where the poet -sees death she perceives life. The roses he thought faded and scattered, -she admires in full bloom; she can still breathe their perfume. From the -dust and ashes he has tasted and bewailed, she draws the savour of -honey. In this instance, surely, her love does not merely aspire to sit -on the heights with the poet’s genius, as she claimed—it soars far -beyond it.<a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a></p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /><br /> -<small>THE SHACKLES OF LOVE</small></h3> - -<p class="nind">V<small>ICTOR</small> H<small>UGO</small> never succeeded in making Juliette adopt his conception of -love. He craved something calm, placid, regular as a time-table in its -manifestations; but she was wont to object: “Such a love would soon -cease to exist. A fire that no longer blazes is quickly smothered in -ashes. Only a love that scorches and dazzles is worthy of the name. Mine -is like that.”</p> - -<p>And indeed it would not be easy to name an object that this woman did -not cast into the crucible of her passion between the years 1834 and -1851. Everything was sacrificed—comfort, vanity, renown, talent, -liberty. Then she turned to her poet. She adopted his tastes, his -ambitions, his dreams for the future; she shared his joys and sorrows; -she exaggerated his qualities, and sometimes even his faults. She lived -only in him and for him.</p> - -<p>We are about to witness a completeness of self-abnegation that raises -Juliette Drouet almost to the level of the mystics of old; afterwards we -shall scrutinise one by one the details of the cult she rendered to -Victor Hugo.</p> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<p>After selling the bulk of her furniture and quitting the luxurious -apartment she occupied at 35, Rue<a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a> de l’Échiquier, Juliette, it will be -remembered, had settled down in a tiny lodging costing 400 frs. a year, -at 4, Rue de Paradis au Marais. She and Victor Hugo determined to live -there together, poor in purse, but rich in love and poetry.<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> The said -love and poetry must indeed have filled their horizon, for they have -left no account whatsoever of that first nesting-place.</p> - -<p>On March 8th, 1836, Juliette removed again to a somewhat more commodious -apartment: 14, Rue St. Anastase, at 800 frs. a year. It comprised a -drawing-room, dining-room, one bedroom, a kitchen, and an attic in which -her servant slept. This district has fallen into decay, and is now dull -and dreary. In those days it was chiefly occupied by the convent of the -Hospitaliers St. Anastase, whence the street took its name, and a few -houses more or less enclosed by gardens. The convent and gardens endowed -it with a provincial tranquillity and an impenetrable silence which -occasionally weighed upon Juliette’s spirits.</p> - -<p>Her mode of life was not calculated to enliven her. A degree of poverty -bordering on squalor simplified its details. Little or no fire: Juliette -sometimes even lacks the logs she is by way of providing for herself. -Then she spends the morning in bed, reading, planning, day-dreaming. She -keeps careful accounts of her receipts and expenditure—accounts which -Victor Hugo afterwards audits most minutely. When she rises, the cold -does not prevent her from writing cheerfully, “If you seek warmth in -this room you will have to seek it at the bottom of my heart.”</p> - -<p>All luxuries in the way of food were reserved, as<a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a> in duty bound, for -the suppers the master honoured with his presence after the theatre. The -rest of the time Juliette ate frugally, breakfasting on eggs and milk, -dining on bread and cheese and an apple. When her daughter visited her -she treated her to an orange cut into slices and sprinkled with a -pennyworth of sugar and a pennyworth of brandy. The same simplicity -reigned on high-days and holidays.</p> - -<p>Juliette also denied herself useless fripperies and reduced to the -strictest limits the expenses of her wardrobe. Everything she was able -to make or mend, she made and mended, and it gratified her to compute -the money she saved thus in dressmakers. The rest she bought very -cheaply or did without. In the month of August 1838, when she was about -to start on a journey with Victor Hugo, she found herself in need of -shoes, a dress, and a country hat. She bought the shoes, manufactured -the dress, and had intended to borrow the hat from Madame Kraft; but -this lady, who held some minor post at the Comédie Française, only wore -feathered hats, so Juliette curses the extravagance that places her in -an awkward predicament. A little later, on May 7th, 1839, she wanted to -furbish up her mantle with ribbon velvet at 5<i>d.</i> a yard; but she found -that she could not do with less than eight yards and a half. She bemoans -her extravagance, saying, “Why, oh, why have I let myself in for this!”</p> - -<p>In studying Juliette’s financial position one wonders that so much -privation should be necessary, for, from the very beginning, Victor Hugo -allowed her 600 or 700 frs. a month. He afterwards increased this sum to -800, and finally to 1,000 frs. in 1838, when he began to get better -terms from publishers and<a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a> theatre-managers. Surely such a sum should -provide ordinary comforts—there should be no suggestion of squalid -poverty?</p> - -<p>The fact is that, in 1834, Victor Hugo had only paid off the most -pressing of Juliette’s debts; but the result of his doing so was to -rouse the energies of the rest of the creditors, and Juliette was -overwhelmed by them. Sometimes she managed to pacify them by quaint -expedients. For instance, to Zoé, her former maid, she offered, in place -of wages, a box for <i>Angélo</i>; to Monsieur Manière, her legal adviser, -she promised that, if he would extend her credit, “Monsieur Victor Hugo -should read with interest” a certain plan of political organisation of -which the said Manière was the author, but which alas, does not yet -figure in the archives of the French constitution! But more often she -was forced to pay, and she had to save off food or dress. Then it was -that money was skimped from the butcher and grocer to satisfy the former -milliner or livery-stable keeper. In the month of May 1835, out of 700 -frs. received, the creditors obtained 316; in June they got another 347; -in July 278. Another cause for pecuniary embarrassment was the -irregularity of Pradier’s contribution to the maintenance of his and -Juliette’s child. Very often, but for Victor Hugo’s assistance, this -item would have been added to the sum-total of her debts. But Juliette -bore everything with the blitheness of a bird. She, who had hated -accounts and arithmetic, now devoted her attention to them every day, -sometimes more than once a day; she, who loathed poverty, encountered -the most sordid privations with a smile; she, who once throve upon debts -and promises to pay, now exclaimed: “I would<a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a> do anything rather than -fall into debt. How hideous and degrading such a thing is, and how -splendid and noble of you, my adored one, to love me in spite of my -past!”<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a></p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp48_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp48_sml.jpg" width="287" height="371" alt="VICTOR HUGO ABOUT 1836. - -From a picture by Louis Boulanger (Victor Hugo Museum)." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">VICTOR HUGO ABOUT 1836.<br /> -From a picture by Louis Boulanger (Victor Hugo Museum).</span> -</p> - -<p>In these circumstances, it is not surprising that she began to seek in -work, especially theatrical work, an addition to her private resources. -She took her career as an artist very seriously, and it was a great -disappointment to her that her lover failed to desire her as an -interpreter of his parts. He certainly did not. He allowed his jealousy -full play, and wished to keep Juliette for himself alone. His tactics -seem to have been to dangle promises ever before her, but to give her -nothing; to procure dramatic engagements for her, and prevent her from -fulfilling them.</p> - -<p>In February 1834 he introduced Juliette to the Comédie Française, but a -year later he declined to give her the smallest part in <i>Angélo</i>, which -was produced there. In the course of 1836, 1837, 1838, he allowed Marie -Dorval to monopolise all the important <i>rôles</i> in his former plays, and -never once attempted to put Juliette’s name at the head, or even in the -middle, of the bill. Yet he gave her fine promises in plenty, encouraged -her to learn long passages from <i>Marion</i> and <i>Dona Sol</i>, and vowed he -would some day write a play for her alone.</p> - -<p>Thus kept in the background, Juliette passed through exhausting -alternations of despair and confidence, gratitude and jealousy. For, as -may easily be imagined, she was terribly jealous, and her suspicious -mind exercised itself chiefly concerning actresses, whose lively manners -and easy morals she knew, by professional experience. There was Mlle.<a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a> -Georges, already growing stout, no doubt, but ever ready to raise her -banner and exercise her accustomed sovereignty. There was Mlle. Mars, -who, though her looks were a thing of the past, still endeavoured to -attract attention. Above all, there was Marie Dorval.</p> - -<p>Ah, how Juliette envied Dorval! How she studied her in order to arm -herself against her fancied rivalry! How often she took her moral -measure! She knew that she was of the people, that she tingled with -vitality from head to foot, that, though her primary impulses were -virtuous, nature was yet strong within her.... She was well acquainted -with “the voice that quivered with tears and made its insinuating appeal -to the heart.”<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a></p> - -<p>Could Juliette fail to dread such a woman, one so versed by the practice -of her profession in the wiles that attract men? Could she refrain from -warning her lover against her, day after day, like one draws attention -to a danger, a scourge, or a tempest? Far from it—she threatened to -return to the theatre, to act in her lover’s plays, to be present at -every rehearsal, to vie with her rival in beauty and talent and ardour. -She learnt parts, and whole scenes, and filled her solitude with the -pleasing phantoms her lover had once created, and that she dreamed of -restoring to life on the stage.</p> - -<p>Months passed; delicate circumstances obliged her to relinquish her plan -of appearing at the Théâtre Français.<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> She was on the verge of -despair when, one evening in the spring of 1838, her lover brought her a -new play he wished to read to her, according to<a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a> his invariable custom. -It was <i>Ruy Blas</i>. She at once claimed the part of Marie de Neubourg, -and fell in love with the melancholy little queen who was hampered and -hemmed in by the trammels of étiquette, as she herself was imprisoned -within the limits of her icy apartment in the Rue St. Anastase. Victor -Hugo asked for nothing better. He intended <i>Ruy Blas</i> for the Théâtre de -la Renaissance, which was under the management of his friend, Anténor -Joly. He requested the worthy fellow to engage Juliette, and the -agreement was signed early in May.</p> - -<p>We can picture the delight with which Juliette set about copying the -play; nevertheless, she was assailed by melancholy fears: “I shall never -play the queen,” she wrote; “I am too unlucky. The thing I desire most -on earth is not destined to be realised.” And it is a fact that the part -was taken from her almost as soon as it was given.</p> - -<p>After 1839 her longing to go back to the stage calmed down gradually. At -the end of that year it had completely faded. Her love’s tranquillity -was greatly increased thereby, while she was driven to immerse herself -still more completely in her amorous solitude and the disadvantages -pertaining thereto.</p> - -<p>For, in the same degree that he deprecated her being seen on the stage, -Victor Hugo detested the thought of her going out alone, and he had -managed to extract a promise from her that she would never make one step -outside the house without him. She was, therefore, practically as much a -prisoner as any châtelaine of the Middle Ages, or heroine of some of the -sombre dramas she had formerly played. She had not even permission to go -and see her daughter at school at St. Mandé, and, rather than trust her -by herself, the<a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a> poet would escort her to the dressmaker and milliner, -or on her visits to the uncle whose name she bore, and who lay dying at -the Invalides, to the money-lender’s, and curiosity-shop, and even the -ironmonger’s!</p> - -<p>When Victor Hugo thus lent himself to her needs, all went well, and -Juliette, proud and happy, arm in arm with her “dear little man,” -chattered away blithely. But a time came when the lover, monopolised by -other cares, perhaps by other intrigues, was no longer so assiduous. -Then the mistress protested and rebelled, with the fierce rage of a -prisoned beast of the forest, bruising itself against the bars of its -cage, in its agony for freedom.</p> - -<p>Victor Hugo met her remonstrances with gentle reasoning and persuasive -exhortations. However far Juliette went in her transports of anger, he -was always able to pacify her. On September 27th, 1836, at the end of a -long period during which the poet had not been able to give his friend -even what she called the “joies du préau"—that is to say, a walk round -the Boulevards—Juliette threatens to break out. For several weeks she -has been attributing the sickness and headaches she constantly suffers -from, to her sedentary life. Losing all patience, she addresses an -ultimatum to him, proposing an assignation in a cab on the Boulevard du -Temple. He does not appear. For three hours she waits inside the -vehicle, then, in the certainty that he has failed her, she writes a -letter in pencil, dated from the cab, No. 556, stating her intention to -fetch her daughter and go off somewhere, anywhere, alone with her. -“Thus,” she writes, “I shall free myself for ever from a slavery which -satisfies neither my heart nor my mind, and does not secure the repose -of either of us.”<a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a></p> - -<p>However, the next day she did not start. She did not go out at all. She -had resumed her chains and her prison garb. Her anger always evaporated -thus, and turned to melancholy and resigned gentleness. In the end she -came to feel that nothing existed for her, save a lover who sometimes -came and sometimes stayed away. If he was present, she was alive; if -absent, her mainspring was broken.</p> - -<p>But Victor Hugo continued to lead an ordinary life, while his mistress -spent her days in the confinement of a cloister. It was probably about -this time that Juliette resolved to set up in that cloister an altar for -the cult of her lover. Finding herself impotent to attract and keep him -by the sole charm of passion, she endeavoured to win him over by -devotion, minute attentions, tender interest in everything he undertook, -and by unbridled adoration of his person and work.</p> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<p>According to Juliette, who secured several stolen meetings in the poet’s -own house,<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> Victor Hugo suffered from a complete absence of the most -ordinary comfort at home. His lamps smoked, as did his chimney on the -rare occasions when a fire was lighted; he worked in a “horrible little -ice-house,” with insufficient light and a half-empty inkstand; his bed -was wretched, the mattress stuffed with what he termed nail-heads; when -he dressed he found his shirts button-less and his coats unbrushed—as -for his shoes, Juliette was ashamed of their condition. We learn from -Théophile Gautier that the author of <i>Hernani</i> was a hearty eater, but -that his meals were<a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a> served up in confusion: cutlets with beans in oil, -beef and tomato sauce with an omelette, ham with coffee, vinegar, -mustard, and a piece of cheese. He made short work of this extraordinary -mixture, and no doubt was often reminded of a line his mistress had once -written to him on the subject: “When I think of what you are and what -you do, and of the discomfort in which you live, I am filled with -admiring pity.”</p> - -<p>With the instinct of a loving woman and the resource of a clever one, -Juliette was quick to take advantage of the human side of her god, and -to supply him with the personal care he needed. She trained herself to -be a <i>cordon bleu</i> and a sick nurse, a tailor and a cobbler. If Victor -Hugo went to the theatre he found on his return to the Rue St. Anastase, -a dainty repast of chicken, salad, and the milky puddings he liked, and -all the year round a dessert of grapes, a fruit he had always been fond -of. Juliette served him “kneeling"—so at least she affirms. She took -umbrage if he did not allow her to select for him the biggest asparagus -and the thickest cream. He was happy, so was she. If he had an attack of -that “cursed internal inflammation which sometimes affected his head and -sometimes his eyes,” his mistress would prepare liniments, tisanes, herb -soups, which the romanticist meekly swallowed. She assumed a maternal -manner, kissed him, coaxed him with soft words, tried to feed him with -her own hands, and regretted that she could not give him her own health -and take his indisposition upon herself. If he complained of the paucity -and untidiness of his wardrobe, Juliette mended his socks and linen, -ironed his white waistcoats, removed grease-stains from his coat,<a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a> made -him a smoking-jacket out of an old theatre-cloak, and manufactured “a -capital greatcoat lined with velvet, with collar and cuffs of the best -silk velvet, out of another.” Thus she managed by degrees to collect -nearly all the poet’s clothes in her own room; his ordinary suits, as -well as those he wore on great occasions, such as a reception at the -Académie, or a sitting of the House. On one occasion she writes, in -gentle self-mockery: “I was sorry, after you went, that I had not made -you put on your cashmere waistcoat to-night; it was mended and quite -ready for you. This morning I have been tidying all your things. Your -coat occupies the place of honour in my wardrobe; your waistcoat and tie -hang above my mantle, your little shoes and silk socks below. In default -of yourself I cling to your duds, look after them, and clean them with -delight.”</p> - -<p>But Juliette’s great achievement, her triumph, was to create in her tiny -apartment the right atmosphere for her poet to work in. His custom was -to collect his thoughts during the day, and work them out at night. -Juliette made him a cosy corner in her bedroom, close to her bed. She -fitted it up with a table, an arm-chair, a lamp, and an ink-pot. Above -the chair she hung portraits of his children, to make him feel at home. -On the table, sheets of paper and freshly cut pens attested the presence -and care of a devotee of genius. Whenever he came in the evening the -poet settled down in what he himself called his work-room. His -methodical habits and strong will enabled him to abstract himself from -his environment and devote himself strictly to his labours as an author. -Besides, he was under the impression that Juliette was fast asleep; but -in that he did her less<a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a> than justice. Sleep while he worked! Juliette -could never have brought herself to do so. She watched him, and admired -him. Sometimes she seized a pencil to scribble on any scrap of paper the -expression of her veneration, and when the poet had finished he would -find little notes such as the following: “I love to watch even your -shadow on the page while you write.”<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a></p> - -<p>That a poet should allow his person to be thus worshipped is nothing -new; that he should desire to be admired in his works is still more -natural. Juliette guessed this, and acquired the habit of applauding the -slightest achievement of the master with loving enthusiasm. Part of the -day she spent in copying his manuscripts, classifying them, making them -as like as possible to printers’ proofs; and it may easily be imagined -that she occupied much time reading them over and over again. Everything -he wrote was equally sublime in her eyes. If she permitted herself to -show preference for this or that work, it was only on condition that she -should not be supposed to be depreciating some other. In 1846, Victor -Hugo having arranged to make a speech in the House on the “consolidation -and defence of the frontier,” Juliette read it no less than three times: -once in <i>La Presse</i>, again in <i>Le Messager</i>, and a third time in <i>La -Presse</i> again. She made extracts from it and put it away among his -archives; she then wrote gravely to the author, that he had never been -more pathetic or more eloquent. In the same manner she hoarded all his -most trivial sketches and poorest caricatures, and pasted them into -albums which she carefully hid. She was envious of Léopoldine, the -poet’s daughter,<a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a> who was doing the same thing, and naturally had more -opportunities than herself of adding to the collection.</p> - -<p>She was more greedy still of his theatrical output, for there her -jealousy came into play. It is safe to affirm that for more than fifteen -years, namely from 1834 to 1851, she interested herself in every single -representation of the dramas of Victor Hugo. She was present at the -Théâtre Français on the first night of <i>Angélo</i> on April 28th, 1835, and -wished to go again on all the following nights, in spite of the bitter -disappointment the play had caused her, through the frustration of her -ambition to take part in it. She was there on February 20th, 1838, for -the revival of <i>Hernani</i>; and on March 8th following, it was she who -applauded Marie Dorval loudest, at the revival of <i>Marion Delorme</i>. -While <i>Les Burgraves</i> was being written she demanded to know all about -it from its earliest conception, and achieved her wish. When Victor Hugo -read the play to her, she was very much moved and said: “I hardly know -how to descend to earth again from the sublime altitude of your -conception.” She took part in the distribution of the <i>rôles</i>, and -intrigued against Mlle. Maxime and Madame FitzJames, whom she did not -want for Guanhumara.<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> She championed Madame Melingue, who, in -consequence, obtained the part. At last the first night arrived. There -was a cabal, a violent, aggressive cabal, a sign of the reaction of the -new practical school against the romantic school. Who<a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a> sat in a -prominent box and opposed the firmest front to the hissing crowd? -Juliette! Who ventured to accuse Beauvallet of murdering the part of the -Duke Job? Juliette again! “To applaud thus your beautiful verses,” she -wrote on March 13th, “and hurl myself into the fray in their defence is -only another way of making love. Ah, I wish I could be a man on the -nights the play is given!<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> I promise you the subscribers of the -<i>Nationale</i> and the <i>Constitutionel</i> would see strange things!”</p> - -<p>The afternoons hung heavy in the lonely apartment of the Rue St. -Anastase. Sometimes the poet looked in for a moment to bathe his eyes, -or claim some other domestic attention; but, as a rule, his visits were -made in the evening, after the parties and the theatre. His mistress, -therefore, begged, and obtained, permission to receive a few of her -friends. They were insignificant, but warm-hearted folk: Madame Lanvin, -the wife of one of Pradier’s employés, who acted as intermediary, partly -honorary and partly paid, between the sculptor and the mother of Claire -Pradier; Madame Kraft, an employée of the Comédie Française who affected -literary culture; Madame Pierceau, a worthy matron, and, lastly, Madame -Bezancenot, a tried ally.</p> - -<p>As a rule, Victor Hugo tolerated the presence of this little company; -but, democratic though he might be in principle, it palled upon him -before long, and he made some remonstrance. Then Juliette revealed to -him that her need to talk about him had driven her to institute a -regular course of “Hugolatry” among the good ladies. They made a -practice of<a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a> reading his poems, declaiming his plays, and showering -praise on the independence of his character and the dignity of his life. -In the face of such delicate proofs of the affection she bore him, it is -not surprising that the poet should have entrusted to Juliette his most -sacred hopes and ambitions. She was one of those in whom a lover may -always confide, in the certainty of being ever sustained, encouraged, -and approved. Thus it came about that she was cognisant of every effort -Victor Hugo made, every step he took, and even of the intrigues by which -he climbed gradually to the Académie Française, then to the Tuileries -and the little court of Neuilly, and finally to the Chambre des Pairs.</p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<p>Not that Juliette herself ever cherished special veneration for kings, -princes, peers, or Academicians. Democratic and republican by the -accident of birth, as she herself wrote, she likewise detested, on -principle, everything that seemed likely to attract or keep Victor Hugo -away from the Rue St. Anastase. Her first inclination, therefore, was to -criticise with acerbity Academies, drawing-rooms, politics, and Courts; -but the poet’s determination was not of the quality that is easily -weakened by remonstrances. Juliette knew this. As soon as she realised -that the <i>habit vert</i> was really the object of her idol’s desire, and -that he had set his whole heart upon obtaining it, she abandoned her -opposition and only indulged in gentle mockery calculated to cover the -retreat of the unsuccessful candidate, and deprive it as much as -possible of bitterness.</p> - -<p>For Victor Hugo was, above all, an unfortunate<a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a> candidate, at any rate -of the Académie. In February 1836 he was refused Lainé’s <i>fauteuil</i>, and -it was given to a vaudevilliste of the period, called Dupaty. At the end -of November of the same year, Mignet was preferred before him, for -Raynouard’s vacancy. In December 1839, rather than select Hugo, nobody -was appointed in the place of Michaud. In February 1840, precedence over -him was given to the permanent secretary of the Académie des Sciences, -Monsieur Flourens. It was not until January 7th, 1841, that he was -elected to Lemercier’s <i>fauteuil</i> by seventeen votes, against fifteen -given to a dramatist called Ancelot, whose name an ungrateful posterity -no longer remembers.</p> - -<p>In all the peregrinations required by these five successive -candidatures, Victor Hugo was invariably accompanied by Juliette. On -December 24th, 1835, she writes to him: “One point on which I will -tolerate no nonsense, is your visits. I insist upon accompanying you, so -that I may know how much time you spend with the wives and daughters of -the Academicians. I shall, by the same means, be able to gather up a few -crumbs of your society for myself, which is no small consideration.”</p> - -<p>The visits were begun between Christmas and the New Year, in cold, dry, -sunny weather. Clad in black according to prescribed custom, Victor Hugo -fetched his friend every day from the Rue St. Anastase, got into a cab -with her, and showed her the plan for the afternoon: at such and such a -time they must lay siege to Monsieur de Lacretelle; after that, to -Monsieur Royer-Collard; then to Monsieur Campenon. Monsieur de -Lacretelle was too diplomatic not to give plenty of promises and -assurances;<a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a> Monsieur Royer-Collard too good a Jansenist to fail in a -blunt refusal to the author of <i>Hernani</i>. As for Monsieur Campenon, he -had the reputation of being an honest man and an excellent amateur -gardener. His conversation bristled with graftings and buddings. How -should he humour him about his favourite pursuit, Victor Hugo asked his -friend. Should he select roses or pears, myrtle or cypress? As the good -creature was getting on in years, and counted more summers than literary -successes, Victor Hugo unkindly inclined towards the last.</p> - -<p>Juliette laughed merrily, and the poet would climb up numerous stairs, -and return with a stock of entertaining anecdotes, which filled the cab -with fun and colour and life. Then followed calculations of his chances; -if they seemed promising, Juliette congratulated her “immortal,” as she -called him in anticipation; if not, she made fun of the Académie once -more.</p> - -<p>At the end of the year the whole performance began over again. As in -1835, Juliette pretended not to attach much importance to the election -of her lover, but this did not prevent her from hotly abusing the -Académie when, a month later, the society again closed its portals to -the leader of the romantic school.</p> - -<p>It is the privilege of the Académie Française to be most courted by -those who have oftenest sneered at it. No institution has ever been the -cause of so much recantation. Juliette herself was to eat her words. On -Thursday, January 7th, 1841, when Victor Hugo had at last triumphed over -his brother candidate, it was no longer a mistress who wrote to him, but -a general addressing a panegyric of victory to a hero: “With your -seventeen friendly votes, and<a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a> in spite of the fifteen groans of your -adversaries, you are an Academician! What happiness! You ought to bring -your beautiful face to me to be kissed.”</p> - -<p>Victor Hugo yielded to her gallant desire, as may be imagined, and -forthwith began to prepare for his reception. The poet aimed at a -magniloquent and comprehensive speech which should embrace all the great -names and ideas of the past, present, and future; something as vast as -the empire of Charlemagne, and as noble as the genius of Napoleon. -Juliette, on her side, dreamed of a dress of white tarlatan mounted in -broad pleats and decorated with a rose-coloured scarf, like the one she -had once admired on the shoulders of Madame Volnys, a hated rival at the -Comédie Française.</p> - -<p>Although the speech was only to be delivered in June, Victor Hugo had it -ready by April 10th; he read it to his admiring friend the same night. -The white tarlatan dress, alas, was longer on the way. Several reasons -conspired against its completion. First of all, Juliette declared that -she would concede to nobody the honour of presenting the new member with -his lace ruffles: this involved an expenditure of about 23 frs., a heavy -toll on the exchequer of the lovers. Secondly, Victor Hugo’s reception -was to fall upon nearly the same date as the first communion of -Juliette’s daughter, Claire Pradier, which was yet another cause of -expense. The young woman bravely sacrificed her frock, and, having -consoled herself by making a fair copy of the master’s splendid speech, -she awaited the great day. But at the very moment she hoped to see it -dawn without further disappointment, malicious fate brought her, and -consequently Victor Hugo and the Académie, face to face with a<a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a> fresh -dilemma of the gravest importance, namely, the question of the pulpit -for the momentous occasion.</p> - -<p>The time-honoured affair was a wooden erection of mean appearance, -stained to represent mahogany. On ordinary days it was contemned and -relegated to the lumber-room of the Bibliothèque de l’Institut; but, on -the occasion of the reception of a new member, custom prescribed that it -should be placed under the cupola, in front of the agitated neophyte. -Étiquette demanded that the latter should place upon it his gloves and -the notes of his address; but the rickety thing had already borne so -much eloquence in the past, that it tottered under the weight of its -responsibilities. It stood weakly upon a crooked pedestal, in imminent -danger of subsidence. Instead of being a haughty pulpit, equal to any -occasion, it seemed to offer humble apology for its absurd existence.</p> - -<p>Such was the farcical object Victor Hugo had to interpose between -himself and Juliette, on the day of the great ceremonial. She lost her -sleep over it; for a time, even the lace ruffles, and the speech, and -the white tarlatan dress and rose-coloured scarf, retired into the -background: “I am in a state of inexpressible agitation and worry over -this wretched pulpit,” she wrote. “I shall be just at the back of it. I -am in perfect despair! Truly, since this apprehension has taken -possession of me, I have become the most wretched of women. I think if I -cannot see your handsome, radiant face that day, nothing will keep me -from bursting into sobs of rage and misery. The very thought fills my -eyes with tears.”<a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a></p> - -<p>In spite of himself, Victor Hugo shared one characteristic with Jean -Racine: he could not bear to<a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a> see a pretty woman cry. He therefore took -decisive measures, and managed to assuage his friend’s grief. Juliette -was assured that, whatever happened, she should contemplate her “dear -little orator” at her ease—that is to say, from head to foot. -Unfortunately, it was ordained that calmness should not inhabit this -passionate soul for long together. The night preceding the reception, -Juliette felt frightfully nervous, and, while Victor Hugo sat up -correcting the proofs of his discourse at the Imprimerie Royale, she -retired, saying irritably: “I am like the savages who take to their beds -when their wives give birth to children.” At 4.30 a.m. she was already -up, wrote several letters to her lover, dressed, and hurried to the -Palais Nazarin, where she took up a position in the front row, before -even the platoon of infantry detailed for guard had arrived.</p> - -<p>According to the testimony of Victor Hugo’s enemies as well as of his -friends, the reception surpassed in dignity and brilliancy anything the -cupola had previously witnessed. The Court was represented by the Duc -and Duchesse d’Orléans, the Duchesse de Nemours, and the Princesse -Clémentine, in a tribune. Fashionable society and the world of letters -jostled each other on the benches. There were women everywhere, even -beside the most ancient and prim of Academicians. Old Monsieur Jay was -partially concealed under billows of laces, gauzes, silks, and satins, -worn by his neighbours, Madame Louise Colet and Mlle. Doze. Monsieur -Étienne waggled his head between two monstrous hats so beflowered that, -with one movement, he disturbed the <i>fleurs du Pérou</i> of Madame Thiers, -and with the next, he ruffled the bunches of roses on Madame Anais -Segalas’ head.<a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a></p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp64_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp64_sml.jpg" width="279" height="399" alt="“LE CITOYEN VICTOR HUGO JOUANT AU CONGRÈS DE LA PAIX.” - -Political caricature, 1849." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">“LE CITOYEN VICTOR HUGO JOUANT AU CONGRÈS DE LA PAIX.”<br /> -Political caricature, 1849.</span> -</p> - -<p>Juliette saw nothing of all this; neither did she heed the irrelevant -babble of her neighbour on the right, Monsieur Desmousseaux of the -Comédie Française, or of her guest on the left, Madame Pierceau. She was -in a state of painful, yet delicious turmoil, and when Victor Hugo made -his entry, she nearly fainted. Fortunately, the poet gave her a smiling -look before beginning his speech, which restored her to life; and she -settled down to listen to his eloquent words, as if she had not already -written them out until she knew them by heart. To-day they seemed -invested with fresh beauties, and she gave herself up to the enjoyment -of the moment. The magnificent imagery which decked Victor Hugo’s first -address at the Académie, concealed calculation of the most worldly wise -description. Victor Hugo aspired to the Chambre des Pairs as a -stepping-stone to a power which would assist him to develop the moral -and social mission he deemed to be the true function of a poet. To -achieve this aim it was necessary that he should first belong to one of -the societies from among which alone the King could legally select the -members of that Assembly. The Académie was one of these, hence the -successive candidatures of the poet, and the special tone of his -discourse, in which all the political parties were blandished and -caressed alike; hence, finally, the visits to Court, which increased in -frequency after 1841.</p> - -<p>Just as Juliette had practically burned in effigy almost all the -Academicians of her time before she had the opportunity of becoming -acquainted with them and finding them charming, so she began by -criticising and censuring Louis Philippe and his children with the -greatest severity. Were not these<a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a> people going to wrest her poet from -her? And for what? For the sake of empty honours and useless -occupations! Therefore we find Juliette preaching to her lover the -contempt of earthly greatness. She was fiercely jealous of the -citizen-king.</p> - -<p>In order to calm her apprehensions, Victor Hugo had only to reveal to -her his secret plans; from the first moment that he mentioned the Pairie -to her, she became complacent and Orléaniste. Whether the poet went to -harangue the widow of the soldier-prince in the name of the Académie, -after the accident of 1842, or whether he paid her a private visit, -Juliette always insisted upon accompanying him to Neuilly, and there she -would wait, sitting in a cab outside, whilst her lover coined honeyed -phrases inside the palace.</p> - -<p>The Duchesse was German, simple, a good mother, and deeply religious. Of -Victor Hugo’s works, the only one she was familiar with was No. XXXIII. -of the <i>Chants du Crépuscule, Dans L’Église de....</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“C’était une humble église au cintre surbaissé,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">L’église où nous entrâmes,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Où depuis trois cents ans avaient déjà passé,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Et pleuré des âmes.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>The good lady probably thought these verses had been composed in a -moment of deep fervour, in honour of a respected spouse. She -congratulated the poet, quoted some of the lines to him, questioned him -minutely about his children—and, while he enlarged on these domestic -topics, the real heroine of the beautiful poetry so dear to the -Duchesse, sat waiting below in the cab ... dreaming of the future peer -of France; she already saw him in imagination<a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a> descending the great -staircase of the Luxembourg, with a demeanour full of dignity. For her -part, she was more than ever content to remain at the foot of the steps, -in a posture of humility, among the crowd of watchers.... When the poet -issued at last from the ducal apartments, she would tell him her dream, -and he would complacently acquiesce.</p> - -<p>The appointment of Victor Hugo to the Pairie appeared in the <i>Moniteur</i> -of April 15th, 1845. It must be left to politicians to determine in what -degree the presence of “Olympio” could profit the councils of the -nation; but to Juliette’s biographer the entry of her lover into the -Luxembourg seems a felicitous event. From that moment, in fact, the -young woman ceased to be cloistered. Busier than ever, and perhaps less -jealous, the poet permitted his mistress to accompany him to the -Luxembourg and to return alone to the Marais. At first Juliette hardly -knew how to take this unfamiliar freedom. With her lover absent, she had -grown accustomed to semi-obscurity. The blatant sunshine seemed to mock -her loneliness. She writes: “Nobody can feel sadder than I do, when I -trudge through the streets alone. I have not done such a thing for -twelve years, and I ask myself what it may portend. Is it a mark of your -confidence or of your indifference? Perhaps both. In any case, I am far -from content.”</p> - -<p>Gradually, however, she fell into the new ways. She used to walk back -from the Luxembourg by way of the Pont-Neuf and the Quais. She amused -herself by trying to trace the footsteps of Victor Hugo and fit her own -little shoes into them. When she reached home, she immersed herself -deeper than ever in the preoccupations of her lover.<a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a></p> - -<p>Occasionally, fortunately, she had a reaction. She read little: the -letters of Madame de Sévigné, perhaps, or those of Mlle. de Lespinasse. -She tended her flowers; for Victor Hugo had made her remove from No. 14 -to No. 12 Rue St. Anastase, where her ground-floor rooms opened on to a -garden.<a name="FNanchor_33_33" id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> There, in a space of sixty square feet, she had four bushes -of crimson roses, and a few dozen prolific strawberry-plants, destined -to furnish the poet’s favourite dessert, throughout the summer. She -attended to all the most trivial details in person, making them all -subservient to her love.</p> - -<p>In this wise—with the exception of a few bouts of jealousy of which we -shall have occasion to speak later, Juliette’s days flowed almost -happily. She no longer brooded over her past; redemption through love -seemed to her an accomplished fact. When she turned to the future, it -was with ideas borrowed from Victor Hugo certainly, but none the less -consoling, since they authorised her to hope for the eternal reunion of -souls beyond the confines of this earth. On December 31st, 1842, the -poet had dedicated some delicate verses to her, which she learned by -heart. They were part of a creed by which Juliette hoped to fortify her -soul against the arrows of fortune—hopes fallacious in the event. First -death, then treachery, were about to rend her faithful heart as a -child’s toy is smashed.<a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a></p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V<br /><br /> -<small>CLAIRE PRADIER</small></h3> - -<p class="nind">A<small>BOUT</small> the year 1844, when Victor Hugo visited his friend on Sundays and -holidays, he used to find seated at his private table, in accordance -with his own permission, a tall girl of eighteen, very fair, very pale, -with very black eyes—two prunes, as he said, dropped in a saucer of -milk. Often she did not hear him enter. Bending her willowy neck and -undeveloped bust over her books, she was immersed in study, perhaps also -in rêverie. Sometimes he kissed her affectionately, at other times bowed -formally. The lowly assistant-mistress of a suburban school, marvelling -at the great man’s condescension, would rise blushing, and submit her -pale brow to his lips. She would then ask permission to return to her -task: the examinations were near at hand, and, as she was going in for a -diploma, she must work.</p> - -<p>Sometimes Victor Hugo smilingly took up the books scattered on the -table, weighed the value of each with a glance, then, pushing them all -aside with the back of his hand, sat down, saying: “Now then, Claire, I -will be your tutor to-day,” and the lesson began, vivid, enthusiastic, -brilliant as a poem.</p> - -<p>The reader would be justly disappointed if we failed to relate the story -of the girl to whom this “magician of words” thus unveiled the beauties -of the French<a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a> language. Besides, a deeper acquaintance with the -daughter may lead to a better understanding of the mother; therefore, we -append a short sketch of Claire Pradier.</p> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<p>She was born in Paris in 1826. Her father, the sculptor, undertook the -care of her early childhood, while her mother, as we have learnt, was in -Germany and Belgium. He put her out to nurse at Vert, near Mantes, with -a married couple named Dupuis, and sometimes combined a visit to her -with a little sport, in the shooting season.</p> - -<p>He brought her back to Paris on October 15th, 1828. From letters of his -which have been preserved, we are justified in believing that he derived -some satisfaction from his educational rôle. His pen is prolific in -praise of the child with “the locks of pale gold,” “the roguish brown -eyes,” “the apple-red cheeks,” whose “nose ends in a pretty tilt” which -reminds him agreeably of Juliette’s.</p> - -<p>He discovers in his daughter a fine nature, plenty of intelligence, and -so much feeling, that he hesitates for a time whether he shall apply his -efforts to checking its development, or to cultivating it—in the first -case, he would turn Claire into a semi-idiot in order not to let her -passions become too strong for her happiness, and in the second, he -might make of her an artist capable of the most splendid impulses and -the noblest fulfilment.</p> - -<p>If Pradier is to be believed, the child herself decided in favour of the -latter. At the age of three, guided by paternal suggestion in the studio -of the Rue<a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a> de l’Abbaye, she chose for her favourite plaything a stuffed -swan. From her games with this handsomely fashioned bird she imbibed a -taste for pure lines and fine pose. She also listened to music given at -Pradier’s house by sculptors and painters who aped the art of Ingres. -She derived so much delight from it that she could never afterwards meet -any of these self-engrossed performers without begging for a kiss. -Finally, by his studies of dress, his clever manipulation of draperies, -which he always preferred to the higher parts of his profession, Pradier -taught her to appreciate light and colour. She had a vivid appreciation -of the latter, and, during her short life, a mere trifle such as the -blue of the sky, or the tint of a rose, gave her the most exquisite -pleasure.</p> - -<p>Having thus cultivated the sensibilities of the flower committed to his -charge, Pradier was rewarded by the prestige attached to his rôle of -master and guide; the father reaped in tenderness what the artist had -expended in intelligence and effort. From her earliest infancy Claire -showed a marked preference for this man, so ardent, so gay, who taught -her to breathe and live among works of art; all her life she felt for -him an affection that neither his mistakes nor his carelessness, or even -his injustice, could damp. Meanwhile, ever prolific in good intentions, -always ready with vows and promises, the artist was forming high hopes -and ambitions for his daughter.</p> - -<p>“We must hope,” he wrote to Juliette on that October 15th, 1828, when he -took the child away from her nurse, “that she will live to grow up, and -that we shall make a distinguished personage of her.” A little later, on -September 28th, 1829, he writes: “Dear friend, you are fortunate in the -possession of<a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a> a Claire who will be a great solace to you in your old -age.” Again, on July 4th, 1832: “Who can love her better than I do, -especially now that I see her rare intelligence developing so -satisfactorily and encouragingly for our designs?”</p> - -<p>He planned for his little daughter the most singular and unexpected -gifts: once it was to be the proceeds of his bust of Chancellor -Pasquier, a commission he owed to Juliette and her friendship with the -subject; another time it was the price of a house he possessed at Ville -d’Avray and wished to sell; again, he designed to settle upon Claire the -sum of 2,000 frs. he had lent to a cousin—fine words, as empty as the -hollow mouldings that decorated the studio of the man. The cousin never -returned the loan, the house at Ville d’Avray was sold, by order of the -court, at a moment when the mortgage upon it far surpassed its value, -and the bust of Chancellor Pasquier, though ordered, was never even -rough-cast by Pradier.</p> - -<p>Juliette had determined to live with Victor Hugo in the conditions of -poverty indicated in a former chapter. Her natural delicacy prompted her -to make the future of her child secure, and at the same time to release -the poet from all anxiety on that score. In the latter part of the year -1833, therefore, she wrote to Pradier asking him to acknowledge Claire. -The answer of the sculptor was as follows:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="nind"> -“<span class="smcap">Dear Friend</span>,<br /> -</p> - -<p>“Your letter did not displease me at all, as you seem to have -feared that it would. Its motive was too praiseworthy to cause me -any sentiment contrary to your own. The only thing that vexes me is -that I should be unable to do at once what you<a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a> desire, and what I -fully intend to do eventually, though in a manner carefully -calculated not to interfere with the future or tranquillity of any -other person. It grieves me that you do not realise what I feel -towards you and Claire! I believed that all your hopes were centred -in me! I am so crushed with debt that I cannot think of executing -my intentions at present. Good-bye, get well and hope only in me. -You have not lost me, either of you—far from it! Good-bye, your -very devoted friend, and much more,</p> - -<p class="r"> -“<span class="smcap">J. Pradier</span>.”<a name="FNanchor_34_34" id="FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a><br /> -</p></div> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp72_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp72_sml.jpg" width="288" height="458" alt="CLAIRE PRADIER AT FIFTEEN. - -From an unpublished drawing by Pradier." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">CLAIRE PRADIER AT FIFTEEN.<br /> -From an unpublished drawing by Pradier.</span> -</p> - -<p>It is easy to guess how annoyed Juliette was at the receipt of such a -letter. She expressed her disgust to Victor Hugo in various notes in -which she abuses her former lover: “Wretched driveller, stupid -scoundrel, the vilest and most idiotic of men, a coward without -faith"—such are the principal epithets she applies to him.</p> - -<p>It has been said that the author of <i>Lucrèce Borgia</i> interfered and -obtained from Pradier the acknowledgment of Claire.<a name="FNanchor_35_35" id="FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> This is -absolutely incorrect. It is probable indeed that the poet made the -attempt; it seems certain that with the assistance of Manière, the -attorney, he extracted from the sculptor the promise of an allowance; -but there was no official recognition, and soon we shall find the father -of Claire more disposed to repudiate her than to allow her the -protection of his name.</p> - -<p>For the moment he merely agreed that Juliette should put the child to -school at Saumur with a Madame Watteville, whose Paris representative -was<a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a> a certain Monsieur de Barthès. He would have liked Victor Hugo and -his friend to undertake the sole responsibility of the arrangements, but -they prudently declined to do so, though they lavished kindness, -caressing letters, advice, and treats, upon the little exile.</p> - -<p>On May 28th, 1835, Claire, having suffered some childish ailment, -received from her mother a doll and the following letter:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>“Good morning, my dear little Claire. I hope you will be quite well -again by the time you read this letter. Now that you are -convalescent I can discuss serious matters with you. This is what I -wish to say: Foreseeing that you may be in need of recreation, I -send you from Paris a charming little companion who is most amiably -disposed to amuse you. But, as it would not be fair that the -expenses of her maintenance should devolve upon you during the time -of her stay with you, I also send you a big purse of money for her -upkeep. Spend it wisely, in accordance with your needs.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Toto is no less anxious about her, than devoted to you. -He therefore adds an enormous basket of provisions. I hope the -little girl will not have eaten them all up on the way, and that -there will still be something left for you.</p> - -<p>“This is not all. I have also been thinking of your clothes, dear -little one, and I send you a shawl for your walks, a white frock -with drawers to match, a figured foulard frock, a striped frock -without drawers, and a sleeved pinafore.</p> - -<p>“Good-bye, dear good child. You must tell me if my selection is to -your taste. Love me and enjoy<a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a> yourself, so that I may find you -tall and plump and pretty, when I come to see you again.</p> - -<p class="r"> -“<span class="smcap">J. Drouet.</span>”</p></div> - -<p>At other times, Victor Hugo himself wrote affectionately to his friend’s -child. It is necessary to read these letters, so full of thoughtful -tenderness, to gain a better knowledge of the warmth of the poet’s -heart. Much should be forgiven him in consideration of it.</p> - -<p>“We love you very much,” he wrote to Claire on May 23rd, 1833, “and you -have a sweet mother who, though absent, thinks a great deal about you. -You must get well quickly, and thank the good God in your prayers every -night for giving you such a good little mother, as she on her part -thanks Him for her charming little daughter.”<a name="FNanchor_36_36" id="FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a></p> - -<p>And a few days after, in a postscript to a letter to Juliette: “Monsieur -Toto sends love and kisses to his little friend, and wishes he could -still have her to travel everywhere with him. But, above all, he would -like to caress her and look after her as his own child.”<a name="FNanchor_37_37" id="FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a></p> - -<p><i>As his own child</i>—those words were indeed characteristic of Victor -Hugo’s feeling concerning the little girl thus thrown across his path by -chance, and un<a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a>hesitatingly adopted by him. At first, Claire either did -not realise, or was unwilling to return, his affection. She was jealous -of the big gentleman who stole some of her mother’s attention from her. -She was reserved and disagreeable. Juliette was indignant, but the poet -did not relax his efforts to win her. With the authority of Pradier, who -was only too pleased to delegate it to him,<a name="FNanchor_38_38" id="FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a> he placed Claire, on -April 15th, 1836, in a school at St. Mandé, 35, Avenue du Bel-Air, kept -by a Madame Marre. From that moment, whether he paid her a surprise -visit in the parlour on Thursday afternoons, with a Juliette beaming -from the enjoyment of the trip, or whether she spent Sundays with her -mother, Claire Pradier insensibly grew to connect Victor Hugo with -Juliette in her affections, to give to them both equal respect, and to -link them together in her prayers. Exceedingly sensitive by nature, more -eager for love than for learning, she fell into habits of day-dreaming -in school, or out in the meadows, and only seemed to recover the -brightness of cheeks and eyes when the lovers fetched her, and toasted -her little cold, contracted fingers in their warm ones. Then the -apartment in the Rue St. Anastase resounded with her merry chatter, and -she joined eagerly in the rites of which Victor Hugo was the god and -Juliette the priestess.</p> - -<p>In 1840, when she had attained her fifteenth year, Claire’s mother -thought it right to confide to her the secret of her irregular birth. -She told her also of Pradier’s neglect, and Victor Hugo’s goodness. She -exhorted her to be simple in her ideas, and not to set her ambitions too -high. Claire manifested much<a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a> chagrin and vexation at first, but -presently her natural piety awoke and Juliette was able to write: -“Claire is for ever in church.” Victor Hugo took upon himself to open -the girl’s eyes to the practical side of life, and to point out to her -the necessity of preparing for a profession as early as possible.<a name="FNanchor_39_39" id="FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a> In -response to these appeals to her reason, Claire soon accepted her lot -with a brave heart. It was settled that at the age of eighteen, that is -to say in 1844, she should be engaged as an assistant mistress in Madame -Marre’s school, in exchange for board and lodging, but without salary. -She agreed also to study for a diploma, and she hoped, when once she had -gained it, to find some honourable and paid employment, by Victor Hugo’s -help.</p> - -<p>Claire fell to work with an ardour, a good-humour, and an intelligence, -that drew from Juliette the warmest commendation for her daughter and -gratitude for Victor Hugo.</p> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<p>One cannot but wonder whether Claire Pradier was really happy at heart, -or whether that eighteen-year-old brow, pure and fair as Juliette’s own, -perchance concealed a spirit weighed down by melancholy. She was -good-looking certainly, and knew it. In her chestnut locks, her eyes, -whose hue wavered between soft black and the blue of ocean, her rounded -cheeks, often hectic with fever, the distinction of a tall figure and -stately walk, she united—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“À la madonne auguste d’Italie<br /></span> -<span class="i1">La flamande qui rit à travers les houblons.”<a name="FNanchor_40_40" id="FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a></p> - -<p>But beauty is no consolation to one who feels herself already touched by -the icy finger of death, and who has, besides, no incentive to prolong -the struggle for life. Claire felt thus.</p> - -<p>Already, in earliest childhood, she had shown a delicate temperament, -uncertain health, more nerves than muscle, more sensitiveness than -vitality. During the whole of 1837, her cough never left her. In the -years that followed, her figure scarcely showed any of the curves of -youth. When her looks were praised, she smiled faintly, and her voice, -which was lovely and caressing enough to recall to Victor Hugo the -softest cadences of <i>Les Feuillantines</i>, scarce dared pronounce the word -“to-morrow.” Hence proceeded low spirits, which she was never able to -shake off, though she usually managed to conceal them from her mother. -Presentiments also beset her. “I often dream of those I love,” she wrote -to her mother, “and when I wake up, I long to sleep on for ever.”</p> - -<p>Mobile as the chisel he manipulated so skilfully, volatile as the dust -of the plaster which powdered him, Pradier gave Claire neither regular -assistance nor moral support. He had married, and was the father of -several legitimate children. Unfortunate as was the celebrity of his -wife and far-reaching the scandals provoked by her, he yet desired to -preserve before his natural daughter a primly respectable attitude, and -a modesty quite Calvinistic. He was as careful to avoid the occasions of -meeting her, as Claire herself was eager to provoke them. The more she -overwhelmed him with little presents, worked by her own fingers, tender -evidences of an unconquerable affection, the more indifferent and -discourteous he showed himself, forgetting to pay her monthly -allowance,<a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a> forgetting to give her New Year’s presents, forgetting even -to keep his appointments with her, leaving her to wait patiently in the -cold studio of Rue de l’Abbaye while he played the gallant on the -boulevard.</p> - -<p>He had, nevertheless, permitted the girl to make the acquaintance of his -legitimate children, and had gone so far as to put his youngest child, -Charlotte Pradier, at the same school, when he sent his two sons to -Auteuil to a boarding-school. In the month of May, 1845, Claire, with an -impulse natural in a girl of nineteen, wished to give the two -school-boys the pleasure of a sisterly letter; she got Charlotte to -write also. The sculptor heard of it and this is how he treated her -trivial indiscretion:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="nind">“<span class="smcap">My dear Big Claire</span>,</p> - -<p>“I have seen the headmaster of ... who has informed me that you and -Charlotte have written to J....<a name="FNanchor_41_41" id="FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> Pray write as seldom as -possible. I do not think young girls should use their pens to -reveal their sentiments. Such a habit is too easily acquired; they -should know how, yet not do it. Besides, the children see each -other every fortnight, and that is enough. Please do not sign -yourself <i>Pradier</i> to them any more. Such a thing becomes known and -might cause gossip. You do not need the name, to be loved and -respected. Be frank and fear nothing. Your good time will come some -day. You must be prudent in all respects. The children must -accustom themselves to your position as it is; they will take more -interest in you later. Also, as I am on these subjects, pray use -some other formulæ in your letters to me than ‘adored father,’ or -‘beloved.’ I am not<a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a> accustomed to them. Such epithets are only -appropriate to a god. Call me anything else that comes natural to -you. It is unnecessary that I should prompt you; your feelings will -be your best guide. Please write more legibly, for I receive your -letters at night; and, above all, write only when you have -something special to say. You must not become a scribbler about -nothing—I mean for the mere pleasure of using your pen.”<a name="FNanchor_42_42" id="FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a></p></div> - -<p>How such a letter must have wounded the heart which once beat so -tenderly for Pradier! Neither the caresses of Juliette nor the soothing -words of Victor Hugo were able to comfort Claire.<a name="FNanchor_43_43" id="FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> One month after -her father had thus disowned her, she went up for her examination, and, -partly through grief, partly through timidity, failed utterly. It was -the last stroke.</p> - -<p>Not that her constitution showed any immediate sign of the shock it had -sustained, or broke down at once. Her physical appearance remained -unchanged, but death entered her soul and lurked there henceforward, as -sometimes it lies under the depths of waters which flow calmly to -outward seeming. She made her will.</p> - -<p>From that moment Claire Pradier lived like those resigned invalids who, -raising their gaze to the heaven above them, no longer heed the passing -of the hours, while they await the supreme summons. She waited. Her -mother, seeing her still apparently healthy, failed to realise her -condition, and took the beginning of this mute colloquy with death -for<a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a> a mere return of her daughter’s former depression. Nevertheless, -an incident which happened in the month of February 1846 gave to -Juliette also one of those presentiments which cannot deceive. Like -Claire, she waited.</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp80_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp80_sml.jpg" width="462" height="279" alt="CLAIRE PRADIER ON HER DEATHBED. - -Drawing by Pradier (Victor Hugo Museum)." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">CLAIRE PRADIER ON HER DEATHBED.<br /> -Drawing by Pradier (Victor Hugo Museum).</span> -</p> - -<p>It was not for long. On March 21st, 1846, having gone to St. Mandé to -see the young assistant mistress, she took with her the design and -material for a piece of work Victor Hugo had asked for. The idea was to -embroider his family coat of arms on coarse canvas, in colours selected -by himself. This complicated heraldic work was to adorn the backs of two -Gothic arm-chairs in his rooms in the Place Royale.</p> - -<p>Contrary to her usual habit, Claire showed very little interest in the -poet’s plans; she listened absently and spoke very little. A dry cough -shook her frame from time to time, her cheeks burned with fever. -Juliette walked home by way of the Avenue de Bel-Air, the Barrière du -Trône, and the Faubourg St. Antoine. Victor Hugo, who was always anxious -about her, was to meet her half-way. He did so; she was walking slowly, -with bent head, and when he asked for news of his embroidery, she burst -into tears. The poet understood in an instant. By his instructions, -Claire was removed to Rue St. Anastase the very next day; Triger, her -mother’s doctor, was instructed to visit her daily. Not venturing to -pronounce at once the dread name of consumption, he spoke of a chill and -chlorosis. Claire scarcely heeded, and indicated by a feeble gesture -that she was too spent to care. The head she tried to raise from the -pillow, fell back as if too heavy for the frail neck. Her large dark -eyes gazed through space at some melancholy vision. Her hands upon the -white sheets<a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a> hardly retained strength to clasp themselves in a caress -or a prayer.</p> - -<p>She begged that Pradier might be informed of her illness. He wrote -first, and then came. He demonstrated his affection by theatrical -gestures and well-chosen words. Then he placed a villa, which he said he -possessed at Auteuil, at the disposal of the invalid and her mother. The -so-called villa proved to be one floor in a tenement house, 57, Rue de -La Fontaine. Claire was taken there in the early part of May. Her mother -accompanied her. Victor Hugo visited them nearly every day, but neither -the compliments of “Monsieur Toto” nor the roses he brought his -ex-pupil, nor the exhortations of Doctor Louis, whom he brought with him -one day, were successful in restoring colour to the countenance of one -whose blood-spitting left her every day paler and more exhausted. Claire -hardly dared raise herself in bed; icy sweats drenched her, and she -moaned continuously, in a manner terribly painful to those who were -forced to stand by, helpless.</p> - -<p>On June 6th, she asked to see the Vicar of St. Mandé, her confessor. On -the 16th, she received the Last Sacraments. On the 18th, delirium -supervened, and she expired on the 21st. They buried the girl in the -first place at Auteuil, but when her will was read, in which she had -written, “I desire to be buried in the cemetery of Saint-Mandé. I also -beg that Monsieur l’Abbé Chaussotte should celebrate my funeral Mass, -and that green grass should be grown on my grave,” Victor Hugo and -Pradier agreed to have the coffin exhumed. The ceremony took place on -July 11th. Juliette, who was more dead than alive, was not present; but -Victor Hugo<a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a> and Pradier walked together behind the funeral car, leading -the white procession of Claire’s young pupils and companions. The -sculptor, always full of intentions, plans, and chatter, discoursed in a -low voice of the magnificent tomb he would raise with his own hands to -the memory of his daughter. It should be, he said, “a sacred debt; I -shall execute it with so much love that my chisel will never before have -fashioned anything so chaste or so beautiful.”</p> - -<p>After the long, slow journey through Paris in the sunshine, they reached -the cemetery of Saint Mandé. Near the tomb of the poet’s friend, Armand -Carel, a freshly dug grave yawned, gloomy and covetous. There was some -singing, some blessing, the turmoil of a congested crowd; then they -separated, but not without a renewal of Pradier’s promise.</p> - -<p>Eight years later he died himself, without having discharged his “sacred -debt.” One more resolve had fizzled out in empty words. Victor Hugo was -then living precariously in exile, but as soon as he heard of the -sculptor’s end, he wrote off and ordered a decent headstone for Claire, -and directed that the grave should be sown with green grass. Upon the -tomb were carved four of the lines he had erstwhile written for -Juliette’s consolation, and he set about composing others. Thus it came -about that, to the very last, Claire Pradier was protected by the father -of Léopoldine against two of the fears that had most alarmed her -youthful imagination, “a neglected grave in some distant cemetery, and a -faded memory in the hearts of men.”<a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a></p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /><br /> -<small>“ON AN ISLAND”</small></h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<p>Juliette relates that when she had occasion to admonish her maid, or -find fault with a tradesman during her residence in Jersey and Guernsey, -the answer she invariably received was: “It cannot be helped, Madame; we -are on an island....”</p> - -<p>The phrase tickled her fancy, and she adopted it and made use of it on -many occasions.</p> - -<p>The reader of the following chapters must likewise accept the axiom -that, “on an island,” things are not quite the same as on the mainland; -for, only by so doing, will he be enabled to peruse without undue -astonishment the extraordinary narration of the life led in common by -Victor Hugo, his wife, sons, friends, and mistress, between 1851 and -1872.</p> - -<p>Its beginning dates from the poet’s sojourn in Belgium without Madame -Victor Hugo, at the beginning of his exile<a name="FNanchor_44_44" id="FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a>; that is to say, in the -last weeks of the year 1851 and the first half of 1852. Not that<a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a> his -precarious circumstances and prudent, somewhat middle-class habits, -permitted him to house Juliette under his own roof: indeed, their -<i>liaison</i> was never more secret. But, at Brussels, the problem of the -relations henceforth to exist between the sons of Victor Hugo and she -whom they already called “our friend, Madame Drouet,” first came up for -solution. It was at Brussels also, that Juliette set herself to simplify -it, if not settle it, by her devotion, unselfishness, and unremitting -attentions.</p> - -<p>At his first arrival on December 14th the poet had taken rooms at the -Hôtel de la Porte Verte in the narrow street of the same name. He -remained there barely three weeks, and on January 5th, 1852, took a -small room on the first floor of No. 27, Grand’ Place. It was “furnished -with a black horsehair couch, convertible into a bed, a round table, -which served indifferently for work and for relaxation, and an old -mirror, over the chimney which contained the pipe of the stove.”<a name="FNanchor_45_45" id="FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a></p> - -<p>Juliette never went there, but we learn from the poet’s complaints to -her, that the couch was too short for a man, the mattresses hard, and -offensive to the olfactory nerve, and that sleep was difficult to -obtain, on account of the noises in the street. But with the first -streak of dawn outside the lofty window, the “great façade of the Hôtel -de Ville entered the tiny chamber and took superb possession of it”<a name="FNanchor_46_46" id="FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a>; -the atmosphere became impregnated with art and history. The poet’s fine -imagination and ardour for work did the rest. Hence the tone of his -letters to his wife, who had remained behind in France, was almost<a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a> -joyous. It was full of masculine courage. Hence, also, that air of -“simple dignity and calm resignation,” which characterised his bearing -in exile, “adding to his inherent nobility and charm,” and drawing from -Juliette the enthusiastic exclamation: “Would that I were you, that I -might praise you as you deserve!”<a name="FNanchor_47_47" id="FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a></p> - -<p>Truth to tell, she merited a rich share of the praise herself. The -little comfort Victor Hugo was able to enjoy, and the moral support he -needed more than ever, came to him solely through her.</p> - -<p>She lodged almost next door, at No. 10, Passage du Prince,<a name="FNanchor_48_48" id="FNanchor_48_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a> with -Madame Luthereau, a friend of her youth, married to a political pamphlet -writer. For the modest sum of 150 frs. a month, of which 25 were paid to -her servant, Juliette obtained food, shelter, and sincere affection. But -what she appreciated more than all these, was the liberty she enjoyed of -superintending from afar the poet’s domestic arrangements, and preparing -under the shadow of the galleries the dishes and sweetmeats he partook -of in the publicity of the Grand’ Place. Every morning at eight o’clock -her maid, Suzanne, conveyed to Victor Hugo a pot of chocolate made by -Juliette, linen freshly ironed and mended, and sometimes even the -modicum of coal the great man either forgot, or did not trouble, to -order.</p> - -<p>When Suzanne had swept and cleaned the room which Charras, Hetzel, -Lamoricière, Émile Deschanel, Dr. Yvan, Schoelcher and sometimes Dumas -<i>père</i> daily enlivened with their wit and littered with the<a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a> ashes from -their pipes, she returned at about two o’clock. She found her mistress -busy preparing the master’s luncheon—a cutlet generally, which Juliette -took the trouble to select herself, in order to make certain that the -butcher cut it near the loin! Suzanne started off again bearing the -cutlet, the bread, the plates and dishes, and even the cup of coffee! -Obedient to her mistress’s injunction, she hurried through the street, -for, at any cost, the luncheon must not be allowed to get cold.</p> - -<p>When Charles Hugo joined his father in February 1852, it might be -supposed that Juliette would relinquish her rôle of <i>cordon bleu</i>; but -nothing was further from her intention. She merely proceeded to -supplement the daily cutlet with a dish of scrambled eggs, in honour of -the young man. Hugo having opened the necessary credit, she continued -the task she had undertaken, and prepared two luncheons instead of one. -Again, when on May 24th Madame Victor Hugo came for the second time to -visit her husband in Brussels, it was Juliette who undertook to cook a -little feast for her. In the agitation caused by such a high honour, she -forgot to add an extra fork. She worried for the rest of the day over -the omission, and apologised in successive letters to the poet, in the -terms a <i>dévote</i> might employ to confess a mortal sin.<a name="FNanchor_49_49" id="FNanchor_49_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a></p> - -<p>But these occupations did not prevent the afternoons from hanging heavy -on her hands. Victor Hugo spent them in writing <i>Napoléon le Petit</i>; or -he organised expeditions to Malines, Louvain, Anvers, with friends; or -he yielded to the material pleasures of Flemish life, and accepted -invitations to dine at<a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a> some of those culinary institutes on which -Brussels so prides herself.</p> - -<p>But none of these resources were open to Juliette. Confined within the -four walls of her narrow chamber, her only view was of roofs, and a dull -wall, pierced by a single dirty window; she spent whole hours watching a -canary in its cage, through the thick panes. She likened her condition -to that of the tiny captive. At other times, she allowed her thoughts to -roam among past events, and brooded over the packet of letters so -cruelly sent to her the year before<a name="FNanchor_50_50" id="FNanchor_50_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a>; she dwelt upon the grief she -had endured for many months, the choice the poet had finally made in her -favour, and their joint excursion to Fontainebleau to celebrate the -reconciliation. Under the depressing influence of the grey Belgian sky, -always partially obscured by thick smoke, she realised that her splendid -vitality and her love for novelty had departed for ever. Then she -allowed jealousy to resume its sway over her, more powerfully than ever.</p> - -<p>In this mood, she once more resolved to set Victor Hugo free: “If you -tell me to go,” she wrote on January 25th, 1852, “I will do so without -even turning my head to look at you.” But again he bade her stay.</p> - -<p>Gravely, then, without showing any symptom of her former coyness, she -proposed to discontinue her letters.</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp88_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp88_sml.jpg" width="290" height="401" alt="JULIETTE DROUET IN JERSEY." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">JULIETTE DROUET IN JERSEY.</span> -</p> - -<p>Fortunately, at this very juncture, the unwelcome<a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a> attentions of the -Belgian police, who were nervous about the forthcoming publication of -<i>Napoléon le Petit</i>, had decided Victor Hugo to leave Brussels and go to -Jersey. Juliette was to go also, either in the steamer with him, or in -one starting a few hours later. Naturally he urged her to go on writing, -if only to bridge over the short separation. She admits that when she -landed at St. Helier, on August 6th, 1852, hope had once more gained the -ascendant within her breast. For the first time in her life, she was -about to enjoy the society of her “dear little exile,” her “sublime -outlaw,” all by herself, far from the madding crowd.</p> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<p>Victor Hugo resided at first in an hotel at St. Helier, called La Pomme -d’Or. Later he settled on the sea-front at Marine Terrace, Georgetown, -in an enormous house which, owing to its square shape and skylights, -resembled a prison.</p> - -<p>Juliette had intended to put up at the Auberge du Commerce, but for -twenty years she had never sat at a table d’hôte without the protection -of the poet. The proximity of tradespeople and farmers proved -insupportable to her. On August 11th she began a search for a suitable -boarding-house, and presently concluded a bargain with the proprietress -of Nelson Hall, Hâvres-des-Pas, for lodging at eight shillings a week, -and board at two shillings a day. This made a monthly expenditure of -about a hundred and fifteen francs, to which was added twenty-five -francs, the wages of Suzanne, her maid.</p> - -<p>Like Marine Terrace, Nelson Hall’s chief claim to maritime advantages -was its name. At Victor Hugo’s<a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a> house there were no large windows -overlooking the sea, and in Juliette’s ground-floor rooms, a high paling -screened the topmost crest of the highest wave.</p> - -<p>Our heroine tried to console herself by listening to the surge of the -ocean, and copying the nearly completed manuscript of <i>L’Histoire d’un -crime</i>, or the poems the poet intended to add to the volume of <i>Les -Châtiments</i>. At the end of September she moved upstairs to a large room -on the first floor of the house, whence a wide view could be had of the -barren scenery of Hâvres-des-Pas, from the battery of Fort Regent on the -right, to the rocks of St. Clément on the left; but Juliette’s peaceful -contemplation was constantly disturbed by the violence of the -proprietress, a drunkard, who was renowned all over the island for the -vigour with which she beat her husband when in her cups.</p> - -<p>A further removal was therefore decided upon in January 1853, and -carried out on February 6th. Juliette went to live in furnished -apartments next door, consisting, as in Paris, of a bedroom, -drawing-room, dining-room, and kitchen, on the first floor. They -overlooked a vast stretch of sand and shingle, rocks and seaweed.</p> - -<p>At first Victor Hugo seldom went to his friend’s house, but met her each -day at the outset of his walk and took her with him along roads where -the magic of summer glorified every blade of grass. From end to end of -the island, Dame Nature had transformed herself into a garden, where all -was perfumed, gay, and smiling. Juliette, walking arm in arm with her -lover, could feel the glad beating of his heart; her upraised eyes noted -that his dear face seemed less worried. With the ingenuity of a -twenty-year-old sweetheart,<a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a> she entertained him of his own country, and -invoked memories of the journeys they had made together in former days -to the Rhine, the Alps, the Pyrenees. The exile remembered, not the -rain, nor the omnibuses, nor the thousand trifles recalled by Juliette, -but France ... his own beautiful France.... Under the influence of that -voice which had once made him free of the realm of love, his country was -restored to him for a fleeting moment.</p> - -<p>The lovers were unpleasantly surprised by the week of tempests which -ushered in the equinox, and was followed without a pause by the setting -in of winter. “Everything became sombre, grey, violent, terrible, -stormy, severe.” Day and night rain fell, and “the drops chased each -other down the window-panes like silver hairs.”<a name="FNanchor_51_51" id="FNanchor_51_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a> Amidst the uproar to -which frenzied Nature suddenly delivered herself, the daily tramps were -perforce discontinued. Fortunately for Juliette, Victor Hugo found -Nelson House warmer than his house at Marine Terrace. His wife had -recently joined him, but had brought with her neither comfort nor the -serene atmosphere propitious for an author’s labours. As in the old days -of the Rue St. Anastase, therefore, he set up a writing-table near the -fire in Juliette’s sitting-room, with a few volumes of Michelet and -Quinet, and a novel or two by Georges Sand; and every day, after -lunching with his own family, the poet came to work in his friend’s -room. Juliette determined to “find the way back to his heart through his -appetite,”<a name="FNanchor_52_52" id="FNanchor_52_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_52_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> as she wrote to him, so she insisted upon his dining -with<a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a> her. She appealed to his greediness as well as to his hospitable -instincts, assuring him that nowhere else could he so successfully -entertain his new companions, the exiles, as at her abode. Soon she gave -two “exiles’ dinners” a week, then three, then four; finally, she had -one every day.</p> - -<p>With the assistance of his two sons, whom he had at length presented to -Juliette, Victor Hugo presided at these feasts with an affability born -in part of a desire for popularity. Juliette showed herself more -reserved, more severe. Accustomed to treat the poet as a divinity, she -could not tolerate the familiarity of these petty folk. “A brotherly -cobbler is not to my taste,” she said harshly. “I cannot resign myself -to this consorting of vulgar mediocrity with your genius.”</p> - -<p>Her sweetness to the two sons of the poet was as marked as the -haughtiness of her manner towards the victims of the <i>Coup d’État</i>. For -twenty years she had longed to be friends with them. As far back as -1839, on the occasion of a distribution of prizes at which Charles and -François Victor were to cover themselves with honours, she wrote: “What -a pity I cannot witness their triumph! I love them with all my heart, -and would give my life for them; but that is not enough. I will avenge -myself by praying that they may remain always as they are at present: -charming and good.”</p> - -<p>Later we find her treasuring their portraits, anxious about their little -childish ailments, pleading for them when they incurred punishment, and -overwhelming them with little presents manufactured by her pen or -needle, whenever she received the master’s sanction to do so.<a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a></p> - -<p>What joy it must have given her to receive officially at her table these -children grown to manhood! As soon as she became acquainted with them, -she raised the young men to the level of Victor Hugo in the order of her -preoccupations, and resolved to do nothing for the father, in the way of -spoiling and cherishing, that she did not do also for the sons. If she -copied <i>Les Contemplations</i>, she protested that she must also write out -François Victor’s translation of Shakespeare. If she sent Suzanne to -Marine Terrace with a herb soup for the master, she bade her carry six -lilac shirts for Charles.</p> - -<p>Even young Adèle and Madame Victor Hugo accepted her good offices -without demur. For Adèle, Juliette picked the earliest strawberries and -the first roses of the Nelson Hall garden; she embroidered handkerchiefs -on which Charles had designed the monogram, and bound together the -serial stories of Madame Sand, cut from magazines. For Madame Victor -Hugo she prepared a certain soup made of goose, which, she said, was -most succulent. She lent her Suzanne, her own servant, for the whole -time Marine Terrace was without a cook, and meanwhile went without a -servant herself, and did her own cooking. She spoilt her skin and wore -down her nails, but she took a pride in her devotion and -self-abnegation, and resolved to carry them even further. She dreamt of -entering Victor Hugo’s household for good, to assume in all humility the -position of an ex-mistress become housekeeper.</p> - -<p>However numerous may have been the wrongs Victor Hugo inflicted upon -this woman, whose jealousy he never ceased to excite, one must admit -that he felt and appreciated the greatness of her love. Like<a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a> a great -many men, the artist in him recognised a moral worth that no longer -satisfied his needs as a lover; he experienced generous revulsions, -under the influence of which he paid her carefully studied attentions, -which bore a semblance of impulse and spontaneity gratifying to her -feelings.</p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<p>The young queen, Victoria, having paid France, in the person of Napoleon -III, the gracious compliment of a visit in August 1855, the exiles of -Jersey dared address an insolent letter to her, which was published by -their quaintly-named journal, <i>L’Homme</i>. True to his native chivalry, -Victor Hugo declined to sign this manifesto<a name="FNanchor_53_53" id="FNanchor_53_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a>; but he was indignant -when the authorities of Jersey marked their disapproval by expelling its -three authors. He protested vigorously against their punishment, and was -in his turn driven from the island on August 31st.</p> - -<p>He went to Guernsey, a neighbouring island, bleaker and less temperate -in climate. He settled at first at No. 20, Rue Hauteville, St. Pierre -Port. On May 16th, 1856, he bought a roomy, substantial house built on -the shore at some former period by an English pirate. It only required -restoration, to make it a suitable residence. It was called Hauteville -House.</p> - -<p>Here again, Juliette lived successively at the inn, and at a -boarding-house kept by a Frenchwoman, Mademoiselle Leboutellier. But -when she found that Victor Hugo could no longer content himself with a -temporary house, and intended to send for<a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a> the furniture and -art-collection he had stored at the rooms in Paris,<a name="FNanchor_54_54" id="FNanchor_54_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a> she begged him -to include her in his plans, and let her have her own things also. She -was tired of so-called English comfort, with its hard beds, narrow -sheets, straight-backed chairs, and tiny wardrobes.</p> - -<p>Victor Hugo gave a generous assent to her request. He took a little -house for her, called La Pallue, close to, and overlooking, Hauteville -House. The faithful Suzanne was despatched to France to pack and send to -Guernsey all the Hugo family’s and Juliette’s possessions. She returned -on August 9th. The furniture and art-collection arrived on the 20th of -the same month.</p> - -<p>A busy time followed, for the lovers. They threw themselves feverishly -into the excitements of removal, decoration, and treasure-hunting. -Victor Hugo dropped spiritualism and photography, which had been his -recreations in Jersey, to become architect, cabinet-maker, and joiner. -He undertook the supervision of Juliette’s arrangements as well as his -own, bought antique Norman furniture, which he turned to various uses, -manufactured carpets and curtains out of Juliette’s old theatre frocks, -designed panels and mantelpieces, and the many incongruous articles -which now decorate the Musée Victor Hugo, and which his friend aptly -called “a poetical pot-pourri of art.”</p> - -<p>In this wise, the fitting up of the two houses lasted over a -considerable period. We learn from Juliette that the poet was still busy -with his dining-room on<a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a> April 2nd, 1857, and on May 28th, 1858, he -wrote to Georges Sand: “My house is still only a shell. The worthy -Guernseyites have taken possession of it, and, assuming that I am a rich -man, are making the most of the French gentleman, and spinning out the -work.”</p> - -<p>Juliette, whose dwelling was more modest, had the enjoyment of it -sooner. She settled into La Pallue at the beginning of November 1856, -and had the happiness henceforth of seeing her friend many times a day. -He had constructed on the roof of Hauteville House a room that he -somewhat pretentiously named his “crystal drawing-room,” and that we -should call a belvedere; it was roofed and covered in with glass on all -sides. His bedroom opened out of it.</p> - -<p>Every morning he sat and worked there, at a flap-table affixed to the -wall, when the cold did not drive him to some warmer part of the house. -Beneath his gaze spread the low town, the port, the group of -Anglo-Norman islands, and, in clear weather, the coast of Cotentin. At -his back, and slightly higher up, Juliette, from her little house, kept -watch and ward over him. From that moment it may be said that, though -Juliette’s body was at La Pallue, her heart and mind inhabited -Hauteville House.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately, as winter progressed, the storms grew worse, and a -darkness reigned that made reading and copying difficult. “Like a great -lake turned upside down,” the sky hung lowering above the gloomy houses, -and only allowed the pale rays of a leaden sun to pierce through it, at -infrequent intervals. The rest of the time the atmosphere remained -charged with rheumatic-dealing clamminess.<a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a></p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp96_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp96_sml.jpg" width="284" height="450" alt="VICTOR HUGO IN JERSEY." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">VICTOR HUGO IN JERSEY.</span> -</p> - -<p>Juliette, just entering her fiftieth year, bore the rigours of the -climate with difficulty. She would have died of it, she declared, had -she not been upheld by the influence of love. She was a martyr to gout, -and greatly dreaded being crippled by it. She brooded long and often -upon death and the dead. Whether under the influence of a priest, or in -response to some inward prompting we cannot tell, but she reverted for a -time to her former religious practices.</p> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<p>In April 1863, when Juliette was slowly recovering from another attack -of gout, Victor Hugo realised the extreme humidity of La Pallue. On the -advice of his sons, who seem to have been of one mind with him on the -subject, he decided that Juju, as he called her, should move as quickly -as possible, and that he should for the second time assume the functions -of architect, upholsterer, and decorator of her new dwelling.</p> - -<p>Juliette offered a prolonged and strenuous resistance to the plan, for -the house chosen for her possessed the grave inconvenience of being at -some distance from Hauteville House. The idea that she would no longer -be able to watch every movement of her lover, drew from our heroine -lamentations and loving reproaches. But Victor Hugo was adamant, and on -February 2nd, 1864, the anniversary of the first performance of <i>Lucrèce -Borgia</i>, “Princesse Négroni” took up her abode in the new house, which -she named Hauteville Féerie.</p> - -<p>There again the poet had arranged everything himself. Remembering -Juliette’s attachment for<a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a> her rooms in Rue St. Anastase, he had -endeavoured to reconstitute faithfully its curtain of crimson and gold, -its peacocks embroidered on panels, its china, the porcelain dragons -which adorned the dresser, and especially the numerous mirrors that -reflected and multiplied the furniture, knick-knacks, and embroideries.</p> - -<p>When Juliette was shown this “marvel,” she said she had no words to -express her admiration and gratitude. Then, knowing how often Madame -Victor Hugo was away on the Continent, and how uncomfortable the poet -was at home, she offered to act in turn as hostess and housekeeper to -him.</p> - -<p>In 1863 we find her assuming Madame Victor Hugo’s duties during the -short absence of the latter, and at the end of 1864, during a further -one which lasted until February 1867, she divided her time equally -between Hauteville House and Hauteville Féerie.</p> - -<p>But there is a difference in her methods of ruling the two -establishments. At Hauteville House she governs without obtruding -herself, wisely, discreetly, somewhat mysteriously. She directs the -servants, reproves them if necessary, superintends the accounts, and -keeps down expenses. But she carries out her task from her place in the -background. Officially, the poet lives alone with his sons and his -sister-in-law, Madame Julie Chenay; when he entertains friends from -Paris, Juliette’s name is not mentioned.</p> - -<p>At Hauteville Féerie, on the contrary, our heroine is at home. It -behoves her to comport herself as the mistress of the house, and expend -her gifts of mind, as well as her talents as a manager. As she says, -“she must be both lady and housekeeper.”<a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a></p> - -<p>In this double rôle it might be supposed that she would be reluctant to -receive the exiles presented to her by Victor Hugo, whose society is so -distasteful to her. Not so. Once more Juliette accepts, through duty and -devotion, that which she never would have tolerated on her own account.</p> - -<p>The poet was bored, alas! Though he was composing splendid poetry, his -long dialogue with Mother Nature was beginning to pall upon him. His -somewhat theatrical genius demanded more than a fine stage; it required -a public. Without it, the author of <i>Les Châtiments</i> was but the shadow -of the poet of <i>Ruy Blas</i>. No doubt the bronzing of his skin by the salt -breath of the sea, and the virulence of his spite against Napoleon III, -lent him a fictitious appearance of spring and vigour; but there were -times when he flagged sadly, and when despondency and fatigue expressed -themselves in the droop of his lips, the sagging of his ill-shaved -cheeks, the wrinkles on his brow, and, especially, the heavy pockets -beneath his eyes. His attire betrayed his complete neglect of himself. -When he walked through the Place de Hauteville in his Girondin hat all -battered by the wind, his cashmere neckcloth carelessly knotted under an -untidy collar, his open coat revealing a buttonless shirt in summer, and -in winter, a faded scarlet waistcoat which Robespierre himself would -have despised, the little children he so loved ran from him as if he -were accursed.<a name="FNanchor_55_55" id="FNanchor_55_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a></p> - -<p>Juliette grasped these mute warnings, and, as soon<a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a> as she was -established in the vast frame of Hauteville Féerie, she attempted to -reconstitute the society she had once presided over at Jersey. She even -endeavoured to enlarge the circle and admit a few new-comers.</p> - -<p>Juliette was able to maintain the simple dignity to which she attached -so much importance, and from which she departed only in favour of her -poet, in the most delicate circumstance of her life, namely, when Madame -Victor Hugo offered her her friendship. She did not decline it, but, -where many might have erred by an excess of satisfaction and -familiarity, she showed a discreet reserve highly creditable to her. -Since their exile, the relations of the two women had undergone a great -change. On the one hand, Madame Victor Hugo’s perpetual pursuit of -pleasure, her constant fatigue, her laziness, and her incapacity to -manage a house, had gradually involved her in the network of attentions, -civilities, and petting, Juliette lavished upon her and hers. The -reports brought to her by her sons and servants of the doings at -Hauteville Féerie, had given her a good opinion of our heroine; her -natural kindliness did the rest, and she showed herself disposed to -treat in neighbourly, and even friendly, fashion one whom she might -justly have hated as a rival.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, Juliette no longer felt that jealousy of the mistress -against the legitimate wife, that she had experienced at the beginning -of her love-story. But actual friendship between Madame Victor Hugo and -Juliette was hindered for a long time, by the fear of English criticism, -and of those Guernseyites of whom Victor Hugo wrote, that they made even -the scenery of the island look prim. Juliette dreaded the<a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a> unkind -tittle-tattle the exiles would not fail to retail to her, if she -accepted the advances from Hauteville House. Therefore, during the first -ten years at Guernsey, she only set foot in her friend’s house once, in -1858, to inspect the treasures the master had collected in it. Madame -Victor Hugo was absent that day.</p> - -<p>At the end of 1864, the wife of the poet became more urgent in her -invitations. She was about to depart to the Continent, to undergo -treatment for her eyes; her absence might be, and indeed was, -indefinitely prolonged. However careless she might be in housekeeping -matters, she was probably loath to commit her husband to the tender -mercies of her sister, Madame Julie Chenay, who boasted of possessing -neither aptitude for business nor a head for figures. She saw the use -that might be made of the poet’s friend, and opened negotiations by -inviting her to dinner. But Juliette declined. This policy of -self-effacement was continued by her even during the long absence of -Madame Victor Hugo in 1865 and 1866. When Victor Hugo pressed her to -dine with him, in secret if necessary, she wrote: “Permit me to refuse -the honour you offer me, for the sake of the thirty years of discretion -and respect I have observed towards your house.”</p> - -<p>In the end, however, Madame Victor Hugo gained the day, and overcame -this dignified reticence. On her return to Guernsey on January 15th, -1867, she declared her intention of paying Juliette a visit. The -diplomatic abilities of the poet were taxed to the uttermost in the -regulation of the details of this important event. The visit took place -on January 22nd. It was impossible to avoid returning it. Juliette did<a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a> -so on the 24th, and thenceforth, no longer hesitated to cross the -threshold of Hauteville House. She went there almost every day, to -revise the manuscript and the copies of <i>Les Misérables</i> with the help -of Madame Chenay; in 1868, she spent the whole month of May under its -roof, while her faithful Suzanne was in France.</p> - -<p>Similarly, she no longer minded being seen in public with Victor Hugo -and his sons, and even his wife, during the journeys they made together. -Whereas in 1861, for instance, on a journey to Waterloo and Mont St. -Jean, we still find her dining apart, and seeming to ignore Charles -Hugo, in 1867, she is constantly at the latter’s house in Brussels, -attending the family dinners and enjoying the charm of what she calls “a -delicate and discreet rehabilitation” by Madame Hugo and her -daughter-in-law. She took her share in their joys as in their sorrows.</p> - -<p>It was at Brussels that the three grandchildren of the poet were born, -and there also that he lost successively, in April and August 1868, his -eldest grandchild and his wife. He mourned the latter with the sorrow of -a man from whom the memory of his early love has not faded. As for -Juliette, her regret was thoroughly sincere. She did not venture to -attend the funeral, in deference to outside gossip; but when, a few days -later, she went to the house and saw the empty arm-chair Madame Victor -Hugo’s indulgent personality had been wont to occupy, she could not -restrain her tears.</p> - -<p>Victor Hugo and his friend returned to Guernsey on October 6th, 1868. -They continued to inhabit separate houses, but dined together at one or -the other. They also resumed their sea-side walks, and<a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a> their long -talks, of which the chief topic was the second son of Charles Hugo, an -infant who had been left behind at Brussels.</p> - -<p>The infirmities of increasing age occasionally prevented our heroine -from following her indefatigable companion. She would then remain at her -chimney corner, reading the <i>Lives of the Saints</i> or some devotional -book. She was more than ever prone to reflect upon death. She had been -greatly shocked by the rapidity with which Madame Victor Hugo had -succumbed, and she felt that her turn, and that of the poet, must soon -come. She prayed ardently that she might be permitted to go first.</p> - -<p>In August 1869 Victor Hugo took Juliette with him, first to Brussels, -where Charles Hugo and Paul Meurice joined them, and then to the Rhine, -which held so many sweet memories for both. On their return to Guernsey -on November 6th, he proceeded to plan a journey to Italy for the -following winter. He also made arrangements for the revival of <i>Lucrèce -Borgia</i> at the Porte St. Martin. The journey to Italy was never carried -out, but on February 2nd, 1870, on the anniversary of its first -performance, <i>Lucrèce</i> had a brilliant success.</p> - -<p>The old poet was enchanted.</p> - -<p>Foreseeing the fall of the Empire, and guessing that the French were -sick of a régime which, during the last eighteen years, had confused -government with spying, and politics with police, he redoubled the -activity of his propaganda, and indited letter after letter, manifesto -after manifesto. The more Juliette confessed to the lassitude of age, -the more he seemed to defy his years.<a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a></p> - -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /><br /> -<small>“THAT WHICH BRINGS SATISFACTION TO THE HEART”</small></h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<p class="nind">W<small>HEN</small> Victor Hugo grasped the full extent of the national disaster in -August 1870, he started immediately for Belgium. On the proclamation of -the Republic, he proceeded to the frontier, where a few official friends -awaited him.</p> - -<p>The scene that took place on his arrival was impressive, though somewhat -theatrical. The “sublime outlaw” asked for the bread and wine of France. -After he had eaten and drunk, he begged Juliette to preserve a fragment -of the bread, and buried his face in his hands with the gesture of one -who is dazzled by too much light. Juliette relates that big tears flowed -through his clenched fingers. The bystanders stood in silence, awed by -his emotion....</p> - -<p>The poet and our heroine stayed with Paul Meurice at Avenue Frochot for -a time, and then went to the Hôtel du Pavillon de Rohan. Finally they -settled, he in a small furnished apartment at 66, Rue de la -Rochefoucauld, and she close by, in a fairly spacious <i>entresol</i> rented -at fourteen hundred francs, at 55, Rue Pigalle.</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp104_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp104_sml.jpg" width="457" height="277" alt="VICTOR HUGO, HIS FAMILY, AND JULIETTE DROUET AT -HAUTEVILLE HOUSE." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">VICTOR HUGO, HIS FAMILY, AND JULIETTE DROUET AT HAUTEVILLE HOUSE.</span> -</p> - -<p>But hardly had they resumed the peaceful tenor of their ways when they -were forced to uproot again. On February 8th, 1871, Victor Hugo was -elected a<a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a> member of the Assemblée Nationale, and, as he could not -bear to be parted any longer from his grandchildren, he removed his -whole household to Bordeaux, including his son Charles, his mistress -Juliette, and the little heroes of <i>L’Art d’être grandpère</i>. They -started on February 13th, and the poet took his seat on the 15th. On -March 8th he felt it his duty to resign, on account of the refusal of -his colleagues to allow Garibaldi to be naturalised a Frenchman. He was -about to leave, when a fresh sorrow struck him down: this was the sudden -death of Charles Hugo, on March 13th.</p> - -<p>The body of the unfortunate and charming young man was taken back to -Paris, and the funeral took place on the 18th, in the sinister scenario -of the rising insurrection. On the 21st, Victor Hugo went to Belgium to -make arrangements for his grandchildren’s future. Two months and a half -later, he was expelled from Brussels, for rewarding its hospitality by -throwing his house open as a refuge to the political miscreants who had -just fired Paris and shed the blood of their compatriots. He was the -object of a violently hostile demonstration on May 27th, 1871, and -afterwards received the decree of expulsion. He went to Vianden, in the -Grand Duchy of Luxembourg, and returned definitely to Paris in September -1871. Juliette had accompanied him everywhere.</p> - -<p>No sooner was the luggage unpacked, than she bravely undertook to amuse -him, by forming a small circle of his friends and admirers, in her -drawing-room at Rue Pigalle. But the undertaking was beyond her powers. -Her long sojourn in a solitary island and her complete absorption in one -sole object, had resulted in the loss of what might be termed her -social<a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a> talent. In France, and especially in Paris, everything was new -to her, everything caused her agitation.</p> - -<p>The state of her health was not such as to restore her equanimity. She -suffered from gout and heart-disease, was growing stout, walked with -difficulty, slept badly, and was terribly weary: “I am so tired,” she -writes, “that I feel as if even eternity would fail to rest me.”</p> - -<p>Victor Hugo, therefore, gave up the entertainments at Rue Pigalle; the -boxes were repacked, and on August 14th, 1872, the party returned to -that island where everything spoke to the exile of former joys, from the -anemones he loved, to the cherry-tree he had planted himself.</p> - -<p>In the mornings, at half-past eleven, Victor Hugo used to make his -joyous appearance at Hauteville Féerie, and escort his friend to -Hauteville House, where the luncheon-table was proudly attended by -Georges and Jeanne. In the afternoon, a family drive was organised. The -largest carriage on the island was hardly big enough to contain the dear -beings by whom he loved to be surrounded. The hours drifted peacefully -towards dusk.</p> - -<p>While our heroine lived on future hopes and past memories, Victor Hugo -enjoyed the present more than ever. Every one knows of his gallantry, -and the bold front he offered to advancing age. Amongst other comforting -illusions, he chose to believe that women prefer old men, and he gloried -in proving his theory. With more sense than she has been credited with, -Juliette sometimes managed to close her eyes and ears; at other times -she gently rallied him, congratulating him on the success of his most -recent exploit. But more often it must be admitted that<a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a> her temper was -not equal to the nobility of her nature. To jealousy was presently added -the pain of humiliation and offended dignity, caused by a vulgar -intrigue, conducted under her very eyes, at her own fireside.</p> - -<p>At last, at the end of the visit to Guernsey, which had turned out so -differently from her expectations, Juliette came to a grave decision. -She resolved to abandon the field to the frail beauties whom chance, -desire, or self-interest, gathered around her poet, and to retire to -live at Brest with her sister, or at Brussels with her friends the -Luthereau.</p> - -<p>Having borrowed 200 frs. from some one, Juliette actually started on -September 23rd, 1873, without leaving the smallest note of farewell for -Victor Hugo. But he lost no time in despatching a letter of recall, and -he couched it in terms so eloquent, and so pathetic, that once more the -poor woman was fain to overlook the past. She returned to Rue Pigalle on -September 27th. She subsequently wrote to the kind hosts with whom she -had taken refuge: “I have been very foolish, very cruel, very stupid; -but I am rewarded. If one could hope for a second resurrection like -this, one might be almost tempted to go through it all again.”</p> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<p>Shortly after Juliette’s act of defiance, her friend imposed the fatigue -of a new removal upon her. The author of <i>L’Art d’être grandpère</i> had -just lost his son, François Victor. More than ever he turned to his -little grandchildren for consolation, and at the end of 1873, he decided -to join households with them<a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a> and their mother. For a rental of 6,000 -frs. a year, he took two apartments, one above the other, at 21, Rue de -Clichy. On April 28th, 1874, Juliette took possession of the third floor -with her maid, while Madame Charles Hugo, her children, and the poet, -settled in the fourth.</p> - -<p>The receptions and dinners began again almost at once. At first they -were weekly, then bi-weekly, and finally daily. The table was large and -well attended. In addition to the five people forming the family party, -including Juliette, there were rarely fewer than seven guests. Our -heroine, in her capacity of chief steward, usually provided for twelve. -She liked the fare to be simple and substantial: <i>sole Normande</i>, -<i>côtelettes Soubise</i>, and <i>poulets au cresson</i> were the chief items of -the repast.</p> - -<p>Housekeeping on this scale demanded a staff of competent servants. -Juliette had five, for whom she was responsible. She superintended their -expenditure, their purchases, and the use to which they put the -provisions; she commended good work and reproved faults, and in fact -fulfilled the functions of a majordomo in a situation where the daily -expenditure exceeded £4 for food, and approximated £2 for wines and -spirits. She also had to supervise the department of the invitations, -draw up lists, and sort the guests of each day, so as to temper the -solemnity of a Schœlcher or a Renan, with the wit and froth of a -Flaubert or a Monselet. Juliette assumed this charge, submitted the -names to Victor Hugo, wrote the letters, opened the answers, and -classified them. If anybody failed at the last moment, she telegraphed -to some one on the “subsidiary list,” as she called it, and only ceased -her efforts when she was assured of being able<a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a> to offer to the -gratified master a full table and a numerous and docile court.</p> - -<p>She was now at the head of that court, but it must not be supposed that -it was by her own desire. On the contrary, she practised the most severe -self-effacement. Clad in black, wearing as her only jewel a cameo set in -gold, representing Madame Victor Hugo, and bequeathed to her in the -latter’s will, she usually sat at the chimney-corner in a large -arm-chair. Fatigued by her laborious preparations, it frequently -happened that she fell asleep in the drawing-room, as Madame Victor Hugo -had been wont to do. This lapse of manners so covered her with -confusion, that she made a vow either to bring her health up to the -level of her devotion or else to disappear from view. She did, in fact, -redouble her activities, to an extent astonishing in a septuagenarian. -She undertook to follow the aged poet whenever he mingled with crowds. -At Quinet’s and Frédéric Lemaître’s funerals, she was present in the -throng, an infirm old woman, watching from a distance, over a Victor -Hugo, upright as a dart, and full of vitality. Did he wish to make an -ascent in a balloon, she was there; when he conducted a rehearsal, or -read one of his early dramas to his modern interpreters, it was she who -led the applause, declared that the voice of Olympio had retained all -its strength and beauty, and that he had never read better.</p> - -<p>In the period between 1874 and 1878 it must be conceded that Victor Hugo -did his best to secure to his friend a greater degree of mental -tranquillity than she had ever enjoyed before. He was careful to conceal -his infidelities from her, and often succeeded in averting scenes and -reproaches; or, if denial seemed<a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a> impossible, he tried to palliate his -fault and gain indulgence by addressing to her one of those poetical -odes in which he excelled, and from which she derived such pride and -joy.</p> - -<p>But these were only passing revivals of youthful emotions, in the poet -as well as in his friend. They resemble those bonfires of dead leaves, -lighted by labourers in autumn on the summit of bare hills—their flame -can ill withstand the slightest puff of wind. Such a puff blew upon the -old couple in the course of the year 1878.</p> - -<p>Juliette was greatly troubled about the state of her health. She wrote -to the poet, on January 8th: “I feel that everything is going from me -and crumbling in my grasp: my sight, my memory, my strength, my -courage.”</p> - -<p>On June 28th of the same year, at one of those copious banquets to which -he still did full justice, and in the midst of an argument with Louis -Blanc concerning Voltaire and Rousseau, Victor Hugo had a cerebral -attack which alarmed his friends exceedingly. His speech faltered, he -gesticulated feebly. Two doctors summoned in haste failed to give -reassurance, and prescribed absolute rest in the country. On July 4th, -the poet was escorted to Guernsey by a large retinue consisting of his -grandchildren, the Meurice family, Juliette, Monsieur and Madame -Lockroy, Richard Lesclide, and another friend, Pelleport. But no sooner -had they reached the island, than Victor Hugo began to show symptoms of -agitation. It could not be on account of his illness, for he was living -quietly and comfortably, rejoicing at the amusement the season afforded -his friends, and taking his own share of it. But, according to the<a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a> -testimony of one who has published a book concerning the master as witty -as it is frank,<a name="FNanchor_56_56" id="FNanchor_56_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a> the reason was that he had left behind him in Paris -the heroines of several intrigues; amongst others, the young person -whose behaviour had occasioned Juliette’s fit of anger and departure for -Brest,<a name="FNanchor_57_57" id="FNanchor_57_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_57_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a> and he was fearful lest the post should convey to Guernsey -the forlorn cooings of the deserted doves, and that some echo of them -should reach Juliette.</p> - -<p>Our heroine was certainly informed of some of the circumstances, for on -August 20th, 1878, while still at Guernsey, she wrote the old man a -letter which is a revelation of the changed character of their -intercourse. Victor Hugo answered somewhat crossly and contemptuously, -and nicknamed Juliette “the schoolmistress.”</p> - -<p>On his return to Paris on November 10th, he consented to remove to the -little house at Avenue d’Eylau where he ended his days, and which was -then almost in the country. Juliette took the first floor, and he -occupied the second. But presently she arranged to spend the nights in a -spare room next to his, so that she might be at hand to attend upon him -if necessary.</p> - -<p>From that moment it may be said that her life declined into -uninterrupted sadness and servitude. She was suffering from an internal -cancer, and knew that she was condemned to die of slow starvation! -Nevertheless, she played her part of sick nurse with a devotion and a -minute attention to detail to which<a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a> all witnesses tender their homage. -She it was who entered the poet’s chamber each morning, and woke him -with a kiss; she, who put a match to the fire ready laid on the hearth, -and prepared the eggs for his breakfast; she, who waited on the old man -while he ate, opened his letters, made extracts from them when -necessary, and answered the most important. It was she, again, who -undertook to keep her beloved friend company until midday, and to amuse -him, and acquaint him with the current political and literary news.</p> - -<p>The task was heavy enough to weary a much younger brain. Juliette found -it almost beyond her strength. In 1880 she was so overwrought that she -had become nervous, irritable, and restless. At night, when her offices -of reader and sick nurse were over, it must not be supposed that she was -able to sleep. From her bed in the adjoining room, with eyes fixed, and -ear on the stretch, she watched the slumber of her dear neighbour, under -the great Renaissance baldachino, with its crimson damask curtains. Did -he cough, she rose hurriedly and administered a soothing drink; but if -she coughed herself, and thus ran the risk of awaking him, she was -furious, longed for a gag, and tried to suppress the labouring of her -suffering breast. She cursed the years that had made her love a burden -to its object, and chid her body for a bad servant no longer subservient -to her will.</p> - -<p>Severe as were the physical sufferings she bore so patiently under -shadow of the night, Juliette preferred them to the sadness she endured -during the long, solitary afternoons, while her former companion was at -the Senate, at the Académie, or elsewhere.</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp112_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp112_sml.jpg" width="291" height="377" alt="JULIETTE DROUET IN 1883. - -From the picture by Bastien Lepage." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">JULIETTE DROUET IN 1883.<br /> -From the picture by Bastien Lepage.</span> -</p> - -<p>We must picture her at that period, not as Théodore<a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a> de Banville -represents her in his formal description, but as Bastien Lepage painted -her with more truth, about the same time. Disease has made cruel inroads -on the grave, serene, once goddess-like features. Her poor countenance -is worn and wasted, covered with a fine network of wrinkles, each one of -which tells its tale of suffering. Her hair, whose sheen was formerly -likened by poets to the satin petals of a lily, and which once fell -naturally into crown-like waves, is roughened and harsh, and has assumed -that yellowish tinge which so often presages death. Her lips, no longer -revived by kisses, are pale, her eyes heavy and anguished, her smile -faded.</p> - -<p>Seated by the fire in winter, and at the open window overlooking the -Avenue d’Eylau in summer, she who was the “Princesse Négroni,” now -presents the woeful appearance of a grandmother without grandchildren.</p> - -<p>Sometimes she tries to pray. She calls death to her aid, she complains -of the slowness with which the bonds of the soul loose those of the -body.</p> - -<p>In September 1882, she made a short journey with Victor Hugo to Veules, -to stay with Paul Meurice, and to Villequier, to stay with Auguste -Vacquerie. She took to her bed immediately on her return. By a great -effort of will, she got up once more, to attend the revival of <i>Le Roi -s’amuse</i> on November 25th; then she finally returned to her chamber and -never left it again.</p> - -<p>Neither her body nor her mind was capable of assimilating nourishment. -She waved happy memories aside.</p> - -<p>Every afternoon the old poet paid her a visit. He disliked any mention -of death, and could not bear the<a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a> sight of suffering. If we are to -believe Juliette, he had made a rule that every one must forswear -melancholy, and shake off sad thoughts, before appearing in his -presence. Docile as ever, the sick woman endeavoured to smile when he -entered her room. She listened submissively to the arguments by which he -sought to persuade her that she did not really suffer, that there is no -such thing as suffering. Up till May 11th, 1883, the very day of her -death, there remained thus about one hour of the day during which she -still had to play her part, restrain her moans, and look cheerful. She -did it to the best of her power, and doubtless, in the triumph of that -daily victory gained over torture by her indomitable spirit, she found -at last the answer that the poet should have put into the mouth of -Maffio—she discovered that “That which brings satisfaction to the -heart” is neither desire, nor caresses, nor even love: it is -self-sacrifice.<a name="FNanchor_58_58" id="FNanchor_58_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a></p> - -<p><a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a></p> - -<h2><a name="PART_II" id="PART_II"></a>PART II<br /><br /> -<small><i>LETTERS</i></small></h2> - -<p class="rt"><i>Sunday, 8.30 p.m. (1833).</i></p> - -<p>Before beginning to copy or count words,<a name="FNanchor_59_59" id="FNanchor_59_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a> I must write you one line -of love, my dear little lunatic. I love you—do you understand, I love -you! This is a profession of faith which comprises all my duty and -integrity. I love you, <i>ergo</i>, I am faithful to you, I see only you, -think only of you, speak only to you, touch only you, breathe you, -desire you, dream of you; in a word, I love you! that means everything.</p> - -<p>Do not therefore give way any more to melancholy; permit yourself to be -loved and to be happy. Fear nothing from me, never doubt me, and we -shall be blissful beyond words.</p> - -<p>I am expecting you shortly, and am ready with warm and tender caresses -which, I hope, will cheer you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -Your <span class="smcap">Juju</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -(1833).<br /> -</p> - -<p>Since you left me I carry death in my heart. If you go to the ball -to-night, it must be at the cost of a definite rupture between us. The -pain I suffer at imagining you moving among that throng of fascinating, -careless women, is too great for you to be able to<a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a> inflict it without -incurring guilt towards me. Write to me “Care of Madame K....” If I do -not hear from you before midnight, I shall understand that you care very -little for me ... that all is over between us ... and for ever.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"><i>Wednesday, 2.30 p.m. (1833).</i></p> - -<p>I cannot refrain, dearly beloved, from commenting upon the profound -melancholy you were in this morning, and upon the doubt you manifest on -every occasion as to the sincerity of my love. This unjustifiable -suspicion on your part disheartens me beyond all expression. It -intimidates me and makes me fear to confide to you the incidents my -dubious position exposes me to. To-day, for instance, I concealed from -you the visit of a creditor, who presented himself to the porter, but -was not shown up. I paid him out of my own resources, without your -knowledge, because you are always telling me <i>I do not love you</i>. This -expression from you makes me feel that you hold a shameful opinion of me -and my character, rendered possible perhaps by my situation, but none -the less false, unjust, and cruel.</p> - -<p>I love you <i>because</i> I love you, because it would be impossible for me -not to love you. I love you without question, without calculation, -without reason good or bad, faithfully, with all my heart and soul, and -every faculty. Believe it, for it is true. If you cannot believe, I -being at your side, I will make a drastic effort to force you to do so. -I shall have the mournful satisfaction of sacrificing myself utterly to -a distrust as absurd as it is unfounded.<a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a></p> - -<p>Meanwhile, I ask your pardon for the guilty thought that came to me this -morning, and which may possibly recur, if you continue to see in my love -only a mean-spirited compliance and an unworthy speculation. This letter -is very lengthy, and very sad to write. I trust with all my soul, that I -may never have to reiterate its sentiments.</p> - -<p>I love you. Indeed I love you. Believe in me.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Wednesday, 8.15 p.m. (1833).</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Here is a second letter. Forgive my epistolary extravagance. Honestly, I -imagine you must soon tire, to put it as mildly as possible, of this -superabundance of letters.</p> - -<p>The reason of my writing again is no novel one: it is merely to repeat -that I love you every day and every instant more and more; that I feel -convinced you are only too eager to return my sentiments, but that -between your desire and your capacity there stands a wall a hundred feet -high, entitled “suspicion.” Suspicion leads to contempt, and when that -exists, no real love is possible. There is no answer to what I have just -stated. I feel it, and am crushed by my sorrow. I know not what to do, -where to go, what plans to make. I can only suffer, just as I can only -love you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>If ever this letter is found, it will be seen that my love was -insufficient in your eyes to atone for my past.<a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a></p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>2 a.m. (1833).</i></p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">My Victor</span>,</p> - -<p>I love you truly, and neither know, nor can conceive, any personality -more deserving of devotion than yourself.</p> - -<p>I look up to you as a faithful, reliable friend, as the noblest and most -estimable of men.</p> - -<p>It hurts me to feel that my past life must be an obstacle to your -confidence. Before I cared for you, I felt no shame for it, I made no -attempt to conceal or alter it; but, since I have known you, this -attitude of mind has changed in every respect. I blush for myself, and -dread lest my love have not the strength to erase the stains of the -past. I fear it even more, when you suspect me unjustly.</p> - -<p>My Victor, it is for your love to sanctify me, for your esteem to renew -in me all that once was good and pure.</p> - -<p>I care for you so much that all this is possible. I will become worthy -of you, if you will only help me.</p> - -<p>Farewell. You are my soul, my life, my religion; I love you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Your appreciation of my letters is one of the best proofs of love you -have yet given me. I will set to work to reconstruct them. Nothing has -happened since you left me yesterday, except that my love for you has -increased.</p> - -<p class="rt"> -(1833.)<br /> -</p> - -<p>Before reading this letter, look upon me once more with affection.</p> - -<p>My poor friend, I am about to grieve and surprise<a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a> you greatly. Yet it -has to be done. I no longer have the courage to bear up against your -unjust and suspicious jealousy, and your continued mistrust of a -sentiment as pure and true as that which one cherishes towards God. They -wear me out and make me wretched to the last degree. I would rather -leave you, than expose myself to fresh grief, which might end in -destroying either my reason or my love. This resolve is dictated by the -excess of my affection. Even if you suffer, forgive me, and bless me -before you leave me for ever. I love you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -(1833.)<br /> -</p> - -<p>Since you insist upon a denial of offences which exist only in your -imagination, I owe it to you to make it comprehensive and without -restriction. It is not true that I have tried to offend you by -reproaches unworthy of yourself and of me. It is not true that I have -ever held any opinion of you, but this one, that I esteem you above all -men.</p> - -<p>The real and irrevocable cause of our estrangement, is the certainty -that your love for me is incomplete. I am more persuaded of it every -day, and particularly to-day, when you have actually told me that you -thought I had misled you as to the state of my affections.</p> - -<p>This is a grave offence towards a woman who has never deceived you on -the subject of her heart, and whose only fault is to love you too much; -for her very excess in this respect, has given her the sad courage to -risk losing your esteem, in order to preserve your love one day longer.<a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a></p> - -<p>But I am unwilling to think you intended to hurt me by allowing me to -see the canker in your heart. I prefer to believe that we are equally -the victims of a calamity, under which our only resource, is to separate -from one another. Possibly our wounds will heal when they are no longer -exposed to the continual friction of carping suspicion.</p> - -<p>Good-bye. Forgive me if I have offended you. I am loath to hurt you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p>I beg you not to attempt to see me again. This is the last sacrifice I -will ask of you.<a name="FNanchor_60_60" id="FNanchor_60_60"></a><a href="#Footnote_60_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>(June 1833.)</i></p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">My dear Victor, my Beloved</span>,<br /> -</p> - -<p>Do not be anxious! I am as well as a poor woman, who has lost her -happiness and the sole joy of her existence, can expect to be. If I -could let you know my place of refuge without exposing us both, but more -particularly myself, to useless wretchedness, I would do so. Confidence, -the indispensable ingredient in a union such as ours, no longer exists -in your mind. God is my witness that I have never once deceived you in -matters of love, during the past four months. Any concealment I have -been guilty of, has only been with the intention of sparing us both -unnecessary worry, in view of the attitude of mind we have been in -lately.</p> - -<p>I may have been wrong; the purity of my intention must be my excuse.<a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a></p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp120_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp120_sml.jpg" width="296" height="320" alt="CLAIRE PRADIER. - -From an unpublished drawing by Pradier." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">CLAIRE PRADIER.<br /> -From an unpublished drawing by Pradier.</span> -</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>9.45 p.m. Saturday, August 13th (1833).</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>While you are on your travels, dearest, my thoughts follow you in all -love. Though I still feel somewhat sore, I will strive to control -myself, and speak only those gentle words you like to hear.</p> - -<p>It was dear of you to allow me to come to your house.<a name="FNanchor_61_61" id="FNanchor_61_61"></a><a href="#Footnote_61_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a> It was far -more than a satisfaction to my curiosity, and I thank you for having -admitted me to the spot where you live, love, and work. Yet, to be -entirely frank with you, my adored, I must tell you that the visit -filled me with sadness and dejection. I realise more than ever, the -depth of the chasm that gapes between your life and mine. It is no fault -of yours, beloved, nor of mine; but so it is. It would be unreasonable -of me to call you to account for more than you are responsible for, yet -I may surely tell you, dearly beloved, that I am the most miserable of -women.</p> - -<p>If you have any pity for me, dear love, you will assist me to rise -superior to the lowly and humble position which tortures my spirit as -well as my body.</p> - -<p>Help me, my good angel, that I may believe in you and in the future.</p> - -<p>I beg and implore you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -(1833.)<br /> -</p> - -<p>It is not quite six o’clock in the evening. I have just finished copying -the verses you gave me yesterday. I am not very familiar with the forms -of compliment<a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a> in usage in fashionable society. All I can tell you is -that I wept and admired when I heard you read them, that I wept and -admired when I read them to myself, and that once more I weep and admire -in recalling them. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for having -thought of me when you were writing them. Thank you, my beloved, for the -benign sentiments that inspired you. Your beautiful lines have had the -effect you anticipated, for they have acted both as a cordial and a -sedative to my sick spirit. Thank you! thank you! and again, thank you! -You are not only sublime—you are kind, and, what is better still, you -are indulgent, you who have so much right to be severe.</p> - -<p>I love you. My heart melts in admiration and adoration. There is more -rapture of love in my poor bosom than it is capable of containing. Come -then, and receive the superabundance of my ecstasy.</p> - -<p>If you only knew how I long for you, and desire you! If you knew <i>more -still</i>, you would come, I am very sure! Come, come, I beg you, come! You -shall have a kiss for every step, a recompense for every effort, more -smiles, and more joy, than you will encounter fog and cold.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>I am writing this a little later because, before turning to business, I -had to unburthen my heart. I came home yesterday, read your poetry, -dined, did my accounts, and went to bed. I read the newspapers you sent, -went to sleep, dreamed of you, and woke up this morning at 8 o’clock. I -rose almost immediately, did some housework, and mended yesterday’s -frock. In the middle of breakfast Lanvin arrived, bringing<a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a> the -newspapers and a letter from M. Pradier and some of Mademoiselle -Watteville’s luggage. He asked whether we should want him to see us off. -He left again at 1 p.m., taking Claire’s things with him and some of his -wife’s. When he had gone, I washed and did my hair, did the same for -Claire, and at 2.30 I sat down to copy, and now I am writing to you. -This, Colonel, is my report. Are you satisfied? Then, so is the Corporal -of the Guard! After dinner I shall hear the children their lessons, and -count the lines of <i>Feuilles d’Automne</i>.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>After dinner.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I have heard the children’s lessons, and been obliged to punish your -<i>protégée</i>, Claire, who is the laziest and idlest of all the pupils. I -have just read your poem to Madame Lanvin; she was deeply moved. The -poor thing understands you, therefore I need not explain that she loves -you. Good-night, until to-morrow, I hope.</p> - -<p>I suppose you did not come to-day because you had arrangements to make -for our journey; that is why I am able to possess my soul in patience.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Sunday, 4 p.m. (1833).</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I have just come in sad and depressed. I suffer, I weep, I wail aloud -and moan under my breath, to God and to you. I long to die, that I might -put an end once and for all, to this misery and disappointment and -sorrow. It really seems as if my happiness had disappeared with the fine -weather. It would be folly to expect to see either again. The season is -too far advanced for fine weather or for happy days.<a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a> You poor silly, -who wonder that I should deplore so bitterly the loss of one day’s -happiness, it is easy to see that you had not to wait for the privilege -of loving and being loved till you were twenty-six years old! You poet, -who wrote <i>Les Feuilles d’Automne</i> in an atmosphere of love, laughter of -children, eyes azure and black, locks brown and gold, happiness in full -measure! You have had no cause to notice how one day of gloom and rain, -like this, can make the greenest of leaves wither and fall to the -ground. You cannot therefore know how twenty-four hours robbed of bliss -can undermine one’s self-confidence and strength for the future. It is -evident that you do not, for you wonder when I weep; you are almost -annoyed at my grief. You see, therefore, that you do not realise the -measure of my devotion. Surely I have good reason for regretting that I -love you so ardently, when I see that love uncalled for and unwelcome! -Oh, yes, I love you, it is true! I love you in spite of myself, in spite -of you, in spite of the whole world, in spite of God, in spite even of -the Devil, who mixes himself up in it.</p> - -<p>I love you, I love you, I love you, happy or unhappy, merry or sad. I -love you! Do with me what you will, I still shall love you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Monday, 1.50 a.m., 1833.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I have been standing at the window all this time, my soul stretched -towards you, my ear attentive to every sound, fearing always lest your -courage should fail you before the end of your weary walk. It is half an -hour since you left; I have listened hard, but no sound has reached me -that could make me<a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a> apprehend you had not the strength to reach your own -house. I trust that while I am penning these lines, you are already -experiencing the relief that bed and repose will bring to your -suffering. No words of mine can suffice to express to you my regret, my -sorrow, my despair, for what happened to-night. I do not acquit you -altogether of guilt, but I ask you to pardon your own, as well as mine. -Forgive me for having yielded to you after what had passed between us. I -ought to have foreseen what would happen, and what did happen. God -knows, I had resisted as long as I could, and had given way only upon -the solemn promise you made me, never to refer to the stains of my -former life, so long as my conduct towards you should remain honest and -pure.</p> - -<p>The last seven months of my life have been absolutely honest and pure! -Yet, have you kept your word?</p> - -<p>If I were the only one to suffer I should be more resigned, but you are -as unhappy as I; you are as ashamed of the insults you heap upon me, as -I am, of receiving them.</p> - -<p>Now that I perceive fully the canker that lies at the root of our -position, it is my part to arrest the progress of the evil by cutting -out my soul and my life, to preserve what can still be saved of yours -and mine.</p> - -<p>Listen, Victor, I urge you not to refuse me your assistance in carrying -out the plan I think indispensable for the honour of us both.</p> - -<p>If anything can give you courage it must be the knowledge that I have -been faithful to you alone, these seven months. Ah, truly I have never -deceived you! Truly! truly! Yet in the course of these same<a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a> months, how -many mortifying scenes such as that of to-night have taken place!</p> - -<p>Surely you can see that we must no longer hesitate! I will go away by -the first Saumur omnibus. The health of my little girl can serve as a -pretext. When I am with her, I shall be able to reflect upon my -position, and see what I can do in order to render it tolerable. If, as -probably may be necessary, I were to leave the theatre, the furniture -would cover my debt to Jourdain, and if you were unwilling to be -worried, I could request any man of business to sell it, up to the -amount of my bill to Jourdain, which is the only one for which you are -responsible.</p> - -<p>I shall go abroad. Such as I am, I am still capable of earning my -living, which is all that is necessary.</p> - -<p>But all this is beside the question. The important point is that I ought -to start as soon as possible, to-day even, in order to protect us both -from ourselves.</p> - -<p>Before going, I hope to see you once more, unless your condition should -become worse—which is a horrifying thought when I consider that I am -the cause of it.</p> - -<p>But whether I see you or not, whether you are the victim of my temper or -not, I leave with you all my love and all my happiness. I do not reserve -even hope; I give into your keeping my soul, my thoughts, my life. I -take only with me my body, which you have no cause to regret.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -(<i>December 20th, 1833.</i>)<br /> -</p> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="smcap">My beloved Victor</span>,<br /> -</p> - -<p>I have been very unjust to you. You have had cause to call me ungrateful -and unworthy. You<a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a> will soon hate me—soon also, you will have forgotten -me. I feel it. You see, there can be no thought or sentiment of yours -that I do not understand and apprehend. At this moment, even while I am -writing to you, you are blaming me for suffering. You are annoyed with -me for idolising you with an extravagance which renders me mad and -jealous. You are tired of my love. It cramps you, fatigues you. You -meditate flying from me. My bad luck frightens you; you fear to share it -longer. You dread the responsibility—say, rather, you love me less, -perhaps not at all. Oh, what suffering that fear gives me! My head is -aching. I wish I could die. It must be my fault. I have been wrong to -show you the hideous wound in my heart, the jealousy which lacerates and -destroys it. Yes, I ought to have concealed my sufferings from you. I -ought never to fly into those rages that betray the depth of my love and -grief.</p> - -<p>My Victor, do not leave me! I beg you on my knees, not to be daunted -before a public responsibility. Who has the right to demand from you an -account of the measure of the sacrifices you have made for me? What does -it matter if you are denied the justice you deserve? What matter that -you should be held responsible in part for my troubles? The point to be -considered before all others, is your private relations with me. The -responsibility you must accept is towards me only; it concerns only our -two selves. If you repudiate it, it will kill me, for my whole life is -wrapped up in you and your presence. I breathe only through your lips, -see only with your eyes, live only in your heart. If you withdraw -yourself from me, I must die.<a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a></p> - -<p>Reflect! This is not a threat, to keep you near me. I am not -exaggerating the extent to which you are necessary to my very -existence—I am only telling you what I feel. It is the truth, but the -truth under restriction, for I hardly dare acknowledge it in its -entirety, even to myself. <i>I need you! Only you! I cannot exist without -you.</i> Think of it. Try to love me enough to accept the charge of my -life, with all its attendant bad luck.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>2 a.m., January 1st, 1834.</i></p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">To Thee, my Victor!</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>I dare not say anything. Guess what I am feeling and do with me what you -will!</p> - -<p>I love you ... the memory of what has gone before, and my fears for the -future, prevent me from describing my emotions as freely as formerly. -Forget the past, take the future into your own hands, and I shall regain -the faculty of saying “I love you,” as earnestly as I mean it.</p> - -<p>I love you.... <span class="smcap">Juliette.</span></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Saturday morning, 1834.</i></p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">To Monsieur Victor Hugo</span>,</p> - -<p class="r"><span class="smcap">In Town.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp128_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp128_sml.jpg" width="284" height="350" alt="JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1830. - -From Champmartin’s picture (Victor Hugo Museum)." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1830.<br /> -From Champmartin’s picture (Victor Hugo Museum).</span> -</p> - -<p>It is a quarter to one. I have been to your printing-works, numbers 16 -and 19; you had not been seen. I went on to your house; you had not come -in. I wrote you a line; I waited for you.... At last I came home hoping -to find you; but you had not been here. My thanks to you for treating me -like a vagrant dog. You had informed me that you were<a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a> going to the -printing-works, that you might go back to your house, that you would -certainly go to mine.</p> - -<p>You forgot your promises at once, and you apparently hold my love very -cheap.</p> - -<p>If you, indifferent though you may be, could see me in imagination, as I -sit writing to you, you would be horrified at the condition your -injustice and disdain have reduced me to.</p> - -<p>It is evident that you no longer love me, and that you are only bound to -me by the fear of causing some great calamity if you desert me. It is -indeed grievous that this should be the only sentiment which links you -to me, and I am unwilling to accept a devotion so hollow and -humiliating. I give you back your freedom. From this moment you have no -responsibility towards me, although my heart is broken, although my soul -is still fuller of love than it is able to contain, although my eyes, as -I write, are drenched with bitter tears. I shall still have the courage -necessary to bear my life as it will be, when bereft of happiness and -laughter.</p> - -<p>You have been very cruel to me. I forgive you. Forgive also my tempests -of rage. I am ashamed of them, and thoroughly wretched. I swear to you -by that which I hold most sacred in life, namely my child, that I am -unable to explain how I can have been guilty yesterday of a thing I -utterly disapprove of, and which seems to me the acme of effrontery. I -swear I never saw those men. I am innocent of any crime. I can say no -more. You have crushed me by referring again to my past life, and even -while I am assuring you of my love and repentance, and while I still -hope for a reconciliation, I tremble to feel that you can suspect me so -<a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a>unjustly. My heart shrinks from the sorrow still in store for it ... my -pen fails me ...</p> - -<p>Farewell! May you enjoy greater tranquillity and happiness than will -fall to my lot. Do not forget that, for a whole year, we were happy -solely by means of our love.</p> - -<p>Good-bye! I have indeed received my full meed of punishment for the -imaginary crime of yesterday.</p> - -<p>Farewell. Think of me without bitterness.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Monday, 2 a.m. (1834).</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I returned from the Place Royale about two hours ago. It was ten o’clock -when I arrived there, and I left at about midnight. I had hoped to bring -you back with me, or, failing to do so, to catch at least a glimpse of -you. I waited patiently all that time, hoping that you would become -aware of my presence, and reward me for it by one glance. But everything -remained dark and gloomy for me, though it was easy to see the lights -through the drawn blinds, and the shadows of many people moving about.</p> - -<p>It will not be the last time, in all probability, that I shall have the -opportunity of seeing that, while I suffer and weep, you make merry. -Forgive me, my Victor, forgive me for this comparison of our respective -lots. It is the last time I shall make it, perhaps even the last time I -shall write to you, for you have said that you will not read any more of -my letters for a long time ... a long time signifies “for ever,” for you -will forget me and I shall die. Your love was my whole life. To-night I -feel as miserable as I should be if you no longer loved me. God, how -sorely I need pity!<a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a></p> - -<p>I have just obeyed your wishes by putting all your works away carefully. -As for my own relics of you, I have collected them in an English desk, -under lock and key, and hidden them under my bolster, where they shall -always remain.</p> - -<p>Farewell, the performance of this duty has been a mournful satisfaction -to me.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Saturday, 6 p.m., 1834.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="smcap">To Thee, my Beloved.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>You promised that as soon as your work was finished, you would devote -all your time to me; you also said, when you were leaving me yesterday, -that you would come early this morning. Neither of these promises have -you kept; yet I have never longed for your presence and your love more -than at this moment, when anxiety seems to have taken up its abode with -me. I have been so worried that I do not know whether I could endure -another day like this.</p> - -<p>I am thankful to leave this house; it is so haunted by ill-luck and -sadness, that to be quit of it will be a relief.</p> - -<p>My Victor, what is going to become of us? What can we do to avert the -misfortune that threatens us?<a name="FNanchor_62_62" id="FNanchor_62_62"></a><a href="#Footnote_62_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a> Can you think of any way out of the -trouble? Do you love me? I love you so! in prosperity, and still more in -adversity. Oh, God be merciful to me! Without your help I am done.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>I have no other refuge or I should not go to Madame<a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a> K. I cannot wander -about alone, for that would make you anxious; yet I cannot stay here, I -am too miserable. I will wait for you at Madame K.’s house until nine -o’clock. I hardly know what I am writing, or have written. My reason and -will are in abeyance this morning.</p> - -<p>I write because I am wretched, because I must make moan to someone or -something. I write because I shall soon be dead. These lines will be the -cold remains of my soul and thoughts and love, as my body will be the -corpse of my warm flesh and blood.</p> - -<p>I write to declare my faith, to obtain pardon of my sins, to weep, -because my tears strangle me and will put an end to me.</p> - -<p>I shall be in the street to-night. I shall remain there as long as my -strength holds out, without hope, but still, near you....</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Midnight, Saturday, August 2nd, 1834.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">To Victor.</span></p> - -<p>Farewell for ever. You have decreed it thus. Farewell then, and may you -be as happy and admired as I shall be hapless and forlorn.</p> - -<p>Farewell! This word comprises my whole life, and joy, and happiness.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>I am going away with my child. I am just going out to fetch her and take -our places. The Comédie Française management has no claim on my services -until it has assigned me my parts. My maid has<a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a> orders to open my -letters. If there should be one from the Comédie Française she would let -me know at once and everything could be arranged. I need not, therefore, -worry about it at present.</p> - -<p class="rt"> -(1834.)</p> - -<p class="hang"> -<span class="smcap">Mademoiselle Marie,</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">C/o Madame Drouet,</span><br /> -No. 4 bis, Rue de Paradis au Marais, Paris.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Enclosed is a letter for Monsieur Victor Hugo. If he should not come to -the house, try and manage to let him know that there is one awaiting him -at No. 4, Rue de Paradis au Marais, from Madame Kraftt. If he is still -in Paris I expect he will understand what you mean, and will either send -for it or fetch it himself. In any case, write to me by every post and -tell me about Monsieur Victor Hugo: whether you have seen him, what he -has said to you, whether he is still in Paris, or whether he has left; -in fact, tell me everything you can find out concerning him.</p> - -<p>I am writing from Rennes, where I arrived very ill, with my child. I -hope, however, to be able to leave to-morrow and go to my sister. Write -to me there and address thus:</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Madame Drouet,</span><br /> -<span class="smcap">C/o M. Louis Kock,</span><br /> -Saint Renan,<br /> -By Brest.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Please take good care of the house.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">J. Drouet.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a></p> - -<p class="c"> -(<span class="smcap">Enclosure</span>)<br /> -</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Rennes,</span><br /> -<i>2.30 p.m., Monday (1834).</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Victor,</span></p> - -<p>I am writing this letter on the chance of its reaching you, but with the -sad premonition that you will never read it.</p> - -<p>My beloved, I love you more than ever. I cannot do without you. I would -willingly die for you, but I cannot consent to accept a devotion which -might endanger your health and your life. I was forced to fly from you. -It cost me much to resist your supplications and your wrathful glances. -I suffered frightfully; and now, alas, I know that, were you with me, I -could no longer withstand either your gentle pleading or your terrible -anger. I am very wretched. I love and bless you. Be happy!</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>One portion of your curse has already come to pass. My soul and body -have suffered severely. In addition, I have been harried to death by the -idiotic authorities, who are suspicious of every woman without a -passport. I have been at Rennes about half an hour. It is half-past two. -I leave again for Brest to-morrow morning at four o’clock; I expect to -arrive on Thursday at five in the evening. My Victor, I love you. I -could do anything for you. Have pity upon me. I love you better than -anything in life.<a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>August 5th, 1834.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p class="hang"> -<span class="smcap">Mademoiselle Marie,</span><br /> -Care of <span class="smcap">Madame Drouet</span>,<br /> -No. 4 bis, Rue de Paradis au Marais, Paris.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Here is another letter for Monsieur Victor Hugo. Try to get it to him. -If he is in the country near Paris, let him know that there is something -at my house in the name of Madame Kraftt that will interest him.</p> - -<p>I have spent a sad and sleepless night. I am afraid of falling really -ill. Answer this at once.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">J. Drouet.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="c"> -(<span class="smcap">Enclosure</span>)<br /> -</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Rennes,</span><br /> -<i>4 a.m., August 5th (1834).</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Victor, I love you. Victor, I shall die of this separation. I need you, -to be able to live. Since I told you everything, since the moment when -my eyes could no longer rest upon yours, I have felt as if all my veins -were being opened, and my life’s blood slowly drained away. I feel -myself dying, and I know that I love you the better for every pang. My -Victor, can you forgive me? Do you still love me? Is it really true that -you hate me, that I am odious in your sight, that you despise me, that -you would grind my face to the pavement if I pressed my lips to your -feet, pleading for forgiveness? Oh, if you still love me, if you still -respect me, if you can forgive everything, only tell me so, and I will -do all you wish! Everything, I swear! Will you take me back?</p> - -<p>I am very ill.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>3 a.m. (1834).</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">For my Victor.</span></p> - -<p>While I was expecting to see you I could not sleep. Now that the hope is -dead I still cannot sleep because I am unhappy. I grieve not to have -seen you; I grieve because I was cross and ill-tempered when you were -gentle and charming. I rehearse in imagination all the incidents of the -evening, and the pain at my heart grows unbearable. It is wicked of me -to torment you, yet I cannot help myself. My offence goes by the name of -“jealousy.” Much as I dread displeasing you, I yet cannot avoid giving -way to that hideous passion. I make you miserable when I should like to -saturate you with happiness. Oh, it is horribly wrong of me! I am much -to be pitied, for I am jealous, and of whom? The most beautiful, the -most gentle, the most perfect of women ... your wife! Heaven forgive me! -My torment is surely sufficient expiation for my fault!</p> - -<p>God, how I love you! how I love my Victor! All is contained in these -words. You do forgive me, do you not? and you love me as much as ever? I -hope so ... else, I should prefer to die.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Sunday, 3 p.m. (1834).</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I have abandoned hope ... yet love remains. I no longer believe that any -happiness is possible for me in the future, but <i>you</i> I love more every -day; better than the first day, better than yesterday, better than this -morning, better than a moment ago; and still I am not happy.</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp136_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp136_sml.jpg" width="286" height="457" alt="A PAGE OF JULIETTE DROUET’S NOTE-BOOK IN 1834. - -The note-book belongs to M. Louis Barthou." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">A PAGE OF JULIETTE DROUET’S NOTE-BOOK IN 1834.<br /> -The note-book belongs to M. Louis Barthou.</span> -</p> - -<p>You remember what I used to say to you when<a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a> <i>Marie Tudor</i> was in -rehearsal? “Those wretches have robbed me of my self-confidence; I dare -not, cannot rehearse any more; I feel paralysed.”</p> - -<p>To-day, it is not a theatrical part that is in question—it is my life. -Now that calumny has crushed me, now that my mode of life has been -condemned without my having a chance of self-defence, now that my health -and reason have been expended in this struggle without profit or glory, -now that I have been held up before the public as a woman without a -future, I dare not, cannot live longer ... this is absolutely true ... I -dare not live. This fear has brought me to the verge of suicide ... a -peculiar suicide. I do not propose to kill myself like other people. I -mean to sever myself from you, and, to me, such a severance signifies -death. Death certainly. I have already made one experiment of the kind, -therefore I am sure.</p> - -<p>I am confirmed in this project by the reflection that you will thereby -be restored to liberty; that you will be free to direct your life and -your genius in the way best suited to your happiness; that I shall no -longer be an obstacle in your path, but an object of pity and -indulgence—pity for what I shall suffer, indulgence and forgiveness for -such of my faults as have made you suffer.</p> - -<p>If the excess of my love and grief should bring me back to your side, do -not notice me ... shut your eyes, stop your ears, remain in your own -house ... thus you may learn to forget, while I ... I ... shall die. I -shall not suffer long. I shall soon be at rest.</p> - -<p>It is raining hard at this moment, and I am in a raging fever. No -matter, I shall go out. I do not know whether you propose coming to -fetch me. If<a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a> you do not, I cannot tell what time I shall return home. I -don’t care, I am mad! I am in torture such as I have never yet endured! -yet I love you even more than I suffer. My love dominates my whole -being. I love you!</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -5.30 (1834).<br /> -</p> - -<p>You wish me to write to you in your absence. I am always unwilling to -accede to this desire, for when we are separated, my thoughts are so sad -and painful that I should prefer to hide them from you if possible.</p> - -<p>You see, my Victor, this sedentary, solitary life is killing me. I wear -my soul out with longing. My days are spent in a room twelve feet -square. What I desire is not the world, not empty pleasures, but -<i>liberty</i>—<i>liberty</i> to act, liberty to employ my time and strength in -household duties. What I want is a respite from suffering, for I endure -a thousand deaths every moment. I ask for life—life like yours, like -other people’s. If you cannot understand this, and if I seem foolish or -unjust in your eyes, leave me, do not worry about me any more. I hardly -know what I am writing; my eyes are inflamed, my heart heavy. I want -air, I am suffocating! Oh, Heaven, have pity upon me! What have I done -to deserve such wretchedness? I love you, I adore you, my Victor; have -pity upon me. Kill me with one blow, but do not let me suffer as many -eternities as there are minutes in every one of your absences.</p> - -<p>What am I saying? I am delirious, feverish. Oh God, have mercy on me!</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>November 4th, 8.30 p.m. (1834).</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Yes, you are my support, the stable earth beneath my feet, my hope, my -joy, my happiness, my all! I do not know how these halting words of mine -can be expected to convey my thoughts to your mind, but this indeed is -truly and sincerely meant: that you are to me the noblest, most sincere, -most generous of men. I believe this, and have absolute confidence in -your power to frustrate the evil fate which holds me in its grip.</p> - -<p>My dearly beloved, you were quite charming just now, and you are -perfectly right when you say that there is an element of vanity in your -nobility of conduct; for nothing could be more becoming than the elegant -and dignified manner in which you raised me just now from my knees. You -were really great. You were a king!</p> - -<p>My darling little Toto, <i>chéri!</i> I am going to bed now, because I am not -certain that you will come early enough to take me out; and, after all, -you are not the sort of man to be scandalised by finding a woman in bed, -especially ...</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -1834.<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dearly Beloved</span>,</p> - -<p>I am always wishing I were a great actress, because, if my soul and -intellect were equal to yours, another link would be forged between us; -but I wish it still more at such a time as this, for I should then be -able to relieve you of the annoyance of being at<a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a> the mercy of an old -woman, whose conceit has made her aggressive.<a name="FNanchor_63_63" id="FNanchor_63_63"></a><a href="#Footnote_63_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a></p> - -<p>I need not finish this letter, for here you are!</p> - -<p class="rt"> -1835.<br /> -</p> - -<p>It is long after 11 o’clock. I am no longer expecting you for a walk, -but I still hope to see you this evening. I write you these few lines as -an apology for the disappointment I feel each time you fail me. I am -miserable, but not angry; I shed tears, but do not reproach you; I am -often much to be pitied, but I never cease loving you to distraction. If -only you would believe this, I think I could bear my invidious position -with more resignation. I am afraid you misapprehend my love, and this -anxiety often makes the days seem long and sad.</p> - -<p>But I must not forget that you are working and worn out, and that you -have neither strength nor leisure to listen, that is to say, to read of -my worries.</p> - -<p class="rt"> -11.30 <i>p.m.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Here you are! I am finishing this letter more untidily even than usual. -Luckily one’s character, and, more important still, one’s heart, are not -exclusively interpreted by one’s handwriting.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Saturday, 3.15 p.m.</i> (1835).<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My poor, dear, beloved Toto</span>,</p> - -<p>When I see you so preoccupied with important business I am ashamed to -add to your fatigues by the<a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a> reiteration of my devotion, which you -already know by heart. Did I not fear that you would misunderstand my -silence, I should put an end to these letters, which, after all, are -only a cold skeleton, a dull narrative of the generous, tender, -passionate feelings which fill my heart. I should stop them, I say, -until after the production of your play, reserving to myself the -privilege of taking my revenge afterwards by multiplying my words and -caresses. This is what I should do if you felt only a quarter as much -solicitude for your dear little person as I do.</p> - -<p>It is nearly three o’clock. I hope by this time everything has gone off -well at rehearsal. It is high time, my admired, beloved, adored poet, -you left that wretched den they call the Théâtre Français. You will -leave it with full credit to yourself, notwithstanding the ill-will of -that jealous old wretch, and the stupidity, hatred, and malice of the -cabal against you.</p> - -<p>You will see, my splendid lion, whether those hideous crows will dare -croak in face of your roaring. As for me, if anything could make me -prouder and happier, it would be that I alone understand you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Saturday, 1.30 p.m., April 11th (1835).</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Why were you so smart just now? It makes me dreadfully anxious, -especially in conjunction with your early morning walks to the Arsenal. -Toto ... Toto ... you do not know what I am capable of; take care! I do -not love you for nothing. If you deceived me the least bit in the world -I should kill you. But no, seriously, I am jealous when I see you<a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a> so -fascinating. I do not feel as reassured as you would wish me to be. In -fact, I insist upon attending these rehearsals. I do not choose to -confide my dear lover to the discretion of nobody knows who. I wish to -keep my lover to myself, in the face of the nation and of all French -actresses.</p> - -<p>That is my politic and literary resolve: I shall put it into execution, -from to-morrow.</p> - -<p>By the way, this is my birthday. You did not even know it—or, rather, I -dare say you do not care whether I was ever born or not. Is it true that -you do not mind one little bit? That is all the importance you attach to -my love! And yet one thing is very certain: that I was created and put -into the world solely to love you, and God knows with what ardour I -fulfil my mission.</p> - -<p>I love you—ah, yes, indeed, I love you—I love my Victor!</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Saturday, 8 p.m. (1835).</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I am more than ever resolved to separate our lives one from the other. -What you say about Mlle. Mars’s increasing age and the impossibility of -obtaining a double success through her, literary as well as financial, -and about the necessity of securing the services of Madame Dorval or -some equally handsome and celebrated actress, makes me determined to -sever our connection as speedily as possible, no matter where I may have -to go, or under what pecuniary conditions. Your words to-night prove -that you have had private intelligence about Mlle. Mars, Madame Dorval, -and the theatre generally, that you have<a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a> concealed from me, although it -must completely revolutionise the plans made by you for the first play -you were to give at this theatre. The secrecy you have maintained on the -subject, contrary to all your promises to conceal nothing from me, -grieves me more than the treachery of Monsieur Harel and Mlle. George, -more even than the wicked animosity of your enemies and the perfidy of -your intimate friends against myself. This silence is proof positive -that I am a hindrance to your interests; you dread my ambition and my -jealousy; you had already seen the propriety of giving a part to Madame -Dorval, but you did not dare tell me so, for fear of encountering -resistance and tears from me at this new distribution. You have only -partially averted these. I will not attempt to thwart you, on the -contrary; as for my tears, they are not worth wiping away, nor even -restraining.<a name="FNanchor_64_64" id="FNanchor_64_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a> From this very night we cease our communion of dramatic -interests. I go back to the position I ought never to have left: that of -a hack actress, who is given any part, and badly paid at that. You -resume your liberty without any impediment.</p> - -<p>Let us hope this new resolution will conduce to our greater happiness.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Tuesday, April 28th, 1835.<br /> -Four hours before the production of “Angélo.”</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>This is just to remind you of my love, and that it will only be purified -and augmented by the ill-luck and perfidy to which you are more exposed -than others, my noble poet, my king—king, indeed, of us all, though -lover only of me: is that not so? I have nothing to<a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a> fear from you, have -I, my darling? You will take care of yourself and resist the advances of -that shameless woman. Promise me this. I would not allude to it to-day, -only I feel so uneasy at the thought of your spending the whole evening -in her society, that I would give my life to prevent it. If you -understood the greatness and quality of my love, you would appreciate my -alarm.</p> - -<p>Think of poor me, sitting at the back of a box to-night, enduring all -the anguish of jealousy and love.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Madame Pierceau came at one o’clock, leaving Monsieur Verdier in a cab -below. He was desperate at the loss of his stall, which, he hears, was -taken from him by your orders. As I did not know what to say about it, I -advised Madame Pierceau to send him to you. Monsieur Pasquier, as I -anticipated, has not taken Madame Récamier’s box. I wonder what you have -done with it. Did it reach you in time?</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Midnight, Tuesday, April 28th, 1835.<br /> -An hour after the triumph of “Angélo.”</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>My cup is full. Bravo! bravo!! bravo!!! bravo!!!! bravo!!!!! For the -first time I have been able to applaud you as much as I wished, for you -were not there to prevent it.</p> - -<p>Thank you, my beloved! Thank you for myself, whose happiness you -increase with every second of my life, and thank you also for the crowd -that was there, admiring, listening, and appreciating you.</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp144a_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp144a_sml.jpg" width="440" height="284" alt="AUTOGRAPH LETTER FROM JULIETTE DROUET TO HER DAUGHTER -CLAIRE." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">AUTOGRAPH LETTER FROM JULIETTE DROUET TO HER DAUGHTER -CLAIRE.</span> -</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp144b_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp144b_sml.jpg" width="443" height="280" alt="AUTOGRAPH LETTER FROM JULIETTE DROUET TO HER DAUGHTER -CLAIRE (continued)." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">AUTOGRAPH LETTER FROM JULIETTE DROUET TO HER DAUGHTER -CLAIRE (continued).</span> -</p> - -<p>I saw and heard everything, and will tell you all about it; although if -the applause, enthusiasm, and<a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a> delirium could be measured by sheer -weight, my load would indeed be heavy. I will give you full details of -the performance, to-morrow, for I dare not hope to see you to-night; it -would be too much happiness for one day, and you do not want me to go -mad with joy!</p> - -<p>Till to-morrow, then. If you knew how conscientiously I clapped Madame -Dorval, you would hesitate to say or do anything to add to the soreness -I already feel at the thought that another than I has been selected to -interpret your noble sentiments. There, now I am giving way to sadness -again, because you are with that woman!</p> - -<p>Good-night, my beloved. Sleep well, my poet, if the sound of the great -chorus of praise does not prevent it. To your laurels I add my tender -caresses and thousands of kisses.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Friday, 8 p.m. (1835).</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>If I were a clever woman, my gorgeous bird, I could describe to you how -you unite in yourself the beauties of form, plumage, and song! I would -tell you that you are the greatest marvel of all ages, and I should only -be speaking the simple truth. But to put all this into suitable words, -my superb one, I should require a voice far more harmonious than that -which is bestowed upon my species—for I am the humble owl that you -mocked at only lately. Therefore, it cannot be. I will not tell you to -what degree you are dazzling and resplendent. I leave that to the birds -of sweet song who, as you know, are none the less beautiful and -appreciative.</p> - -<p>I am content to delegate to them the duty of<a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a> watching, listening and -admiring, while to myself I reserve the right of loving; this may be -less attractive to the ear, but it is sweeter far to the heart. I love -you, I love you, my Victor; I cannot reiterate it too often; I can never -express it as much as I feel it.</p> - -<p>I recognise <i>you</i> in all the beauty that surrounds me—in form, in -colour, in perfume, in harmonious sound: all of these mean <i>you</i> to me. -You are superior to them all. You are not only the solar spectrum with -the seven luminous colours, but the sun himself, that illumines, warms, -and revivifies the whole world! That is what you are, and I am the lowly -woman who adores you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>If you are coming to fetch me, as you led me to expect, I shall see you -very soon now. I have never longed more ardently for you. Lanvin has -just come. I will tell you about it when I see you.</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 7.30 p.m. (1835).</i></p> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="smcap">To my dear absent One.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>I hardly saw you this morning. I have not seen you this evening, and God -knows what time it will be before you come to take me to <i>Angélo</i>—for I -do not admit the possibility of a single performance taking place -without my presence: besides, I am not sorry to know exactly how much -time you spend with these actresses of the sixteenth century, and those -of the nineteenth, who are no less dangerous. There, I am nearly as -cross as I am sad. I had vowed I would not write at length to-day, just -to teach you<a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a> not to throw my letters aside without reading them. -Myself, my letters, forgotten! You certainly manage to be the most -worshipped and the least attentive of lovers. Oh, you do not care!</p> - -<p>Never mind, I am sad. I am longing for you to-night, as the poor -prisoner hungers for his pittance at the hour he is accustomed to -receive it.</p> - -<p>But you are indifferent—you can calmly let my soul die of inanition—do -you not love me, then? Tell me!</p> - -<p>Well, I love <i>you</i>. I love you my Victor. I forgive you, because I hope -it is not your fault, and also, because I cannot prevent myself from -loving you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Tuesday, 8 p.m., 1835.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>You hurt me a little bit just now, my Toto. While I was sacrificing the -happiness of being with you one moment longer, to your need of repose, -you were worrying about trifles, and not giving me a thought or a -farewell. In moments like these I am forced to realise that you do not -care for me as I care for you, and I feel wretched in consequence.</p> - -<p>Another thing I have observed is that you never allude to my letters. -You neither notice the complaints I make nor the love I shower upon you -with every word. You have turned my happiness and content into sadness. -My Toto, <i>you do not love me as I love you</i>. You have exhausted your -faculty of loving. I tell myself that the enthusiastic and passionate -devotion you once cherished for me has degenerated into mere -partiality—then I mourn and mope, like a woman betrayed.<a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a></p> - -<p>If you knew how I love you, my Toto, you would understand the anguish of -my eagerness, you would pity me, and, instead of leaving my letters -unanswered, you would fly to me the moment you have read them, to -reassure and comfort me if my fears are unfounded.</p> - -<p>Never mind, I give you a thousand kisses. How many will you waste?</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Tuesday, 12.30 p.m. (1835).</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear little Toto</span>,</p> - -<p>You have written me a very charming letter. I cannot send you one as -fascinating; all I can do is to give you my whole heart and thoughts and -life.</p> - -<p>You are quite right when you say that I shall soon give myself to you -again, regardless of the sorrows that may follow. It is true, for I -could sooner dispense with life than with your love.</p> - -<p>But let me tell you again the joy, surprise, and happiness, your letter -caused me. You are better than I, and you are right when you think me an -old idiot. I am in the seventh heaven this morning. You have never given -me so much happiness, my dear little Toto. I am so grateful! I cannot -love you more in return, for that were impossible; but I can appreciate -in a higher degree your worth and the depth of your affection for me.</p> - -<p>You are my dear little man, my lover, my god, my adored tyrant! I love -you, adore you, think of you, desire you, call upon you!</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Which do you like best, quality or quantity?<a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Monday, 8.20 p.m. (1835).</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I adore your jealousy when it gives me the pleasure of seeing you at an -unaccustomed hour; but when it simply consists in suspecting me without -advantage to ourselves, oh, how I detest it!</p> - -<p>You were rather cross to-day, but you atoned so amply by coming as you -did, that I would willingly see you a little bit unjust to me every day, -if it entailed the pleasure of having you one minute longer in the -evening.</p> - -<p>If you only knew how true it is that I love you, you could never be -jealous, or admit the possibility of my being unfaithful to you; and -again, if you knew how much I love you, you would come every moment of -the day and of the night, to surprise me in that occupation, and you -would ever be welcomed with transports of joy.</p> - -<p>Yes, yes, I love you! I do not say so to force you to believe it, but -because I crave to repeat it with every breath, with every word, in -every tone. I adore you much more than you can ever wish. I love you -above all things.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>You attach too little importance to my letters as a rule. You forget -that fine unguents are contained in small boxes, great love in trivial -words.</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Friday, 2 p.m. (1835).</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>You want a huge long letter ... and yet another huge long letter ... you -are not very modest in your requirements. What would you say if I asked -as much?—you, who write to every one in the world except me. I have a -great mind to treat you accord<a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a>ing to your deserts, and write only as -much as you write, love you only as much as you love me. You would be -nicely punished if I did this. But do not fear; I should never play you -such a scurvy trick. I am too much in need of an outlet for the -superabundance of my heart, to venture to close the issue. I am too -anxious to tell you every day how much I adore you, to condemn myself to -silence. I long too much to get near you, in thought at all events, to -afford to cut off the way of communication. Now that you know why I -write so often, I will begin my letter.</p> - -<p>My dear little Toto, although it is not long since I left you, I desire -you with all the impatience and all the inclination that comes of a long -separation. I should like to know where you are and what you are doing. -I should like to be wherever you are, and, above all, I should like to -be in your heart and thoughts, as you are in mine. I should like to be -you and you me, in respect of love. The rest becomes you and you only. -You are admired; I need to be loved. Are you capable, I ask you, of -loving me as much as I love you, or half as much? even that would be -immeasurable. If you only knew the extent of my love, you would treasure -me, only for that.</p> - -<p>I love you, love you, love you, love you, love you!</p> - -<p>This short little word, issuing from my heart, has impetus enough to -mount right up to the heavens. I love you!</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>I have received a letter from my daughter. This, combined with the -horrible weather, makes me quite happy.<a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Friday, 9 p.m. (1835).</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>You gave me a delicious afternoon. How delightfully you talked! I am not -alluding to your wit; a fly does not seek to raise an ingot of gold! -Neither do I speak of the happiness of leaning upon your arm, listening -to your voice, gazing into your eyes, breathing your breath, measuring -my steps by yours, feeling my heart beat in unison with yours.</p> - -<p>There can be no happiness greater than that I enjoyed this afternoon -with you, clasped in your arms, your voice mingling with mine, your eyes -in mine, your heart upon my heart, our very souls welded together. For -me, there is no man on this earth but you. The others I perceive only -through your love. I enjoy nothing without you. You are the prism -through which the sunshine, the green landscape, and life itself, appear -to me. That is why I am idle, dejected, and indifferent, when you are -not by my side. I do not know how to employ either my body or my soul, -away from you. I only come to life again in your presence. I need your -kisses upon my lips, your love in my soul.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Saturday, 11 a.m. (1835).</i><br /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">Good morning, my Victor!</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Let me first kiss you. Of all the promises I made you yesterday, when we -separated, only one has been broken. I promised to love you as I loved -you at that moment—that is to say, more than all the world; but I do -not know how it happened, I have come to love you much more! and I feel -it will be so as long as I shall live. I beg you, my dear little Toto, -to make up your mind to this, as I have already done.<a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a></p> - -<p>Do you know, my blessed Toto, you are a second little Tom Thumb, far -more marvellous than your prototype; for, not merely with pebbles or -crumbs of bread do you mark the roads along which you travel, but -actually with jewels and precious stones. I shall always recognise the -spot where you dropped an enormous ruby as big as a flint, yesterday, -with as much indifference as if it had been a piece of grit from -Fontainebleau.</p> - -<p>What do you suppose must happen to an insignificant creature like myself -in the presence of so much wealth, in the midst of the enchantments of -your mind? Will she lose her reason? That is already done. As to her -heart, you stole it from her very easily, and therefore nothing remains -to the poor wight but what is already yours.</p> - -<p>Her love, her admiration, her life, belong to you! My glances, words, -caresses, kisses, all, are yours!</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -(1835.)<br /> -</p> - -<p>It seems to be always my turn to write to you now. In the old days your -letters called forth my letters, your love mine—and it was meet that it -should be so, for, as you have often said, the man should be the pursuer -of the woman. It is always awkward when a change of <i>rôles</i> occurs, and -I am acutely conscious of it. I feel that a caress from you gives me far -more happiness and security than thousands of those elicited by me.</p> - -<p>It is already half-past eleven and you have not arrived. Perhaps you are -not coming, and the prohibition you laid upon me yesterday against -seek<a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a>ing you at the printing works redoubles my anxiety and jealousy. I -fear lest some untoward thing may have befallen you, or, worse still, -some agreeable invitation reached you. My heart is crushed as in a vice; -I think there is no greater suffering in this world than that of loving -yet fearing. We arrange our lives very badly. Since you are not a free -agent, and may be prevented from seeing me by thousands of circumstances -we cannot foresee, you should at least allow me the opportunity of -knowing what you are doing and where you are. It would satisfy me and -keep me content. Instead of this, I have to wait for you, a prey to -fears that tear at my heartstrings. Alas, I am to be pitied for loving -you so intensely. It is a superabundance that will surely kill the body -which bears it.</p> - -<p>If you love me only moderately, I pray God to deprive me of one of two -things: either my life, or my love.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Nearly midnight. What a night I have before me! God pity me!</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">At Metz</span>,<br /> -<i>September 17th, Thursday, 8.15 a.m., 1835.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good-morning, my Toto, good morning. It is magnificently fine, and we -are going to be enormously happy. We are about to resume our bird-life, -our life of love and freedom in the woods. I am enchanted. If only you -were here, I should kiss you with all my might and main, as a reminder.</p> - -<p>What sort of a night did you have? Did you love<a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a> me? Have you been -writing to me under the old chestnut-tree? I am sure you have not. You -scamp, I am afraid I go on loving you in proportion to the decrease of -your affection.</p> - -<p>I was not able to read last night. I went to bed at a quarter past ten, -and had horrid dreams. I trust they will not come true, but I confess I -should be glad to get news of my poor little girl, whom we neglect far -too much. If two more days go by without a letter, I shall write to -Saumur, for I am really worried about her.</p> - -<p>My dear little Toto, I am going to dress now, so as to get to you -earlier. I love you, I love you with all my strength and all my soul. I -kiss you! I adore you! Till this afternoon.</p> - -<p class="r"> -Your <span class="smcap">Juliette</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">At Metz</span>,<br /> -<i>September 24th, Thursday, 8.45 a.m.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good-morning, my darling Victor. I love you and am happy, for we are -going to be more absolutely together than was possible yesterday, or the -day before, when an inconvenient third disturbed our privacy. Also the -weather is glorious, and I am madly in love with you; so everything -around me glows radiant and beautiful.</p> - -<p>I stayed in bed until 8.30, although I woke up at seven o’clock; but I -just rolled lazily about, thinking of you, and reading yesterday’s -newspapers. I reached home exactly at seven o’clock last night, -undressed, tidied my things, dined, wrote to you, did my accounts, and -read <i>Claude Gueux</i> till half-past ten. Then I put my hair into -curl-papers, and got into bed at eleven o’clock. I went to you in -spirit, and<a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a> dreamt that I was kissing Baby Toto, and making big Toto -jealous. This is the complete history of my morning up to date; now I -shall dress, breakfast, and go for a walk in the meadows with the maid. -Farewell, dearest, until this afternoon’s happiness. Always yours in -love and longing.</p> - -<p>I love you with all my heart, I embrace you in spirit, I adore you with -my whole soul, I admire you with every faculty of my mind. Think of me, -come to me, come to me as soon as possible. My arms, my cheek, my whole -being, await you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">At Metz</span>,<br /> -<i>Thursday, 8.45 p.m.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear, good Toto</span>,</p> - -<p>I should have got back without adventure, had I not met an enormous and -horrific toad in the road, which sent me flying home, shrieking as if -the devil was at my heels. I was here by ten minutes past seven, began -my dinner at five minutes past eight, and am now sitting writing to you, -to thank you for all the bliss you lavish upon me. This day, drenched -with rain though it was, has been one of the most beautiful and happiest -of my whole life. If there had been rainbows in the sky, they would be -reflected in our hearts, linking our souls together in thought and -emotion.</p> - -<p>I thank you for drawing my attention to so many lovely things I should -never notice without your assistance and the touch of your dear white -hand upon my brow; but there is one beauty greater and nobler than all -the combined ones of heaven and<a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a> earth, for the recognition of which I -require no help—and that is yourself, my best beloved, your personality -that I adore, your intellect that enchants and dazzles me. Would that I -possessed the pen of a poet, to describe all I think and feel! But, -alas, I am only a poor woman in love, and such a condition is not -conducive to brilliancy of expression!</p> - -<p>Good-night, my adored one; good-night, my darling. Sleep well. I send -you a thousand kisses.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Metz</span>,<br /> -<i>Monday, 11.5 a.m., September 24th, 1835.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Great indeed was our misfortune yesterday! I agree with you in that, my -Victor, because I love you. For over a year I have suffered much; -oftener than not, without complaint. I always trusted that my love and -fidelity would engender in you feelings of esteem and confidence, but -now that hope is for ever at an end; for, far from diminishing, your -suspicion and contempt have grown to terrible dimensions. You love me, I -know, and I worship you with all the strength of my being. <i>You are the -only man I have ever loved, the only one to whom I have ever given this -assurance.</i> Yet I now implore you on my knees to let me go. I cannot -urge this too strongly. You see, my dear, I am so wretched, so -humiliated, and I suffer so acutely, that I shall have to leave you, -even against your will; so it would be kinder of you to give your -consent, that I may at least have the sad satisfaction, if I must -forsake you, of knowing that I have not disobeyed you.</p> - -<p>Farewell, my joy; farewell, my life; farewell, my<a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a> soul! I leave you, -for the very sake of our love—I offer this sacrifice on behalf of us -both. Later, you will understand. But before bidding you a last -good-bye, I swear to you that, during the last year, I have not -committed one single action I need blush for, nor harboured one guilty -thought. I tell you this from the bottom of my heart. You may believe -it.</p> - -<p>I shall go to my child, for I am anxious about her since she has been at -Saumur. Perhaps I may bring her back with me. I think I was very wrong -to send her away. I mean to repair my fault if there is yet time. The -pretext of her health will be sufficient before the world. My heart -shall be dumb upon all that concerns you. I will keep everything to -myself. I must get work. If you can do anything to help me find some, it -will be good of you. I mention this for the first and last time, for, if -you were to forget me, you know very well that I should be the last to -venture to recall myself to you.</p> - -<p>Good-bye again, my friend; good-bye, for ever! I have been copying your -little book, hoping you would be generous enough to leave it with me. -Good-bye! good-bye! Do not suffer, do not weep, do not think, do not -accuse yourself! I love and forgive you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Metz</span>,<br /> -<i>Saturday, 7.30 p.m. (October 1835).</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>You were in a great hurry to leave me to-night, my best-beloved. If -consideration for me was your motive, it was high-handed and blundering -of you, for<a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a> I never enjoyed myself more than this evening, and, until -the moment you left me so abruptly, I had never so savoured the -happiness of being with you in the highways and byways.</p> - -<p>I therefore returned home sadly and thoughtfully. I have begun my letter -to-night with diminished joy and confidence in the future, for your -hurry to leave me weighs upon me, and I cannot explain it satisfactorily -to myself.</p> - -<p>I came in at a quarter past six, suffering greatly from indigestion. The -maid told me some one had called for the dog—two gentlemen, who seemed -much attached to it. Poor brute, it was a wrong instinct that led it to -follow us. I have no doubt it is expiating its offence in hunger and -cold at this very moment. I am somehow unduly interested in the fate of -the poor thing. I feel something beyond ordinary pity for it; it makes -me think of the fate and future in store for a poor girl we both know. -She also follows step by step a master who will have no scruple in -casting her adrift when his duty to society proves as pressing and -sacred as that which called him away to-night.</p> - -<p>I am depressed, my dear friend, and unwell. The oppression on my chest -is increasing. I hope your sore throat will diminish in proportion to -what I am enduring. Providence is too just to allow such cumulation of -suffering. Good-night—sleep well and think of me if you can. As for -loving me, that is another question; one’s emotions cannot grow to -order. I love you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a></p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Sunday, 8 p.m., 1835.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>My dear darling, I cannot describe to you the rapture with which I -listened to the two sublime poems you recited to me, one on the first -Revolution and the other on the two Napoleons.</p> - -<p>But where can your equal be found on earth!... My dear little Toto, do -not laugh at me. I feel so many things I cannot express, much less -write. I love and revere you, and when I reflect upon what you are, I -marvel! Since you left me, I have read again <i>Napoleon the Second</i>. I -shall never tire of it. It is going to bed with me now.</p> - -<p>You told me to wait for you till 9.30; after that hour I shall go to -bed. If you should happen to come later, I will open the door to you -myself, as you have forgotten the key. I want to do so, that I may not -lose one second of the happiness of having you with me. Sleep -well—good-night—do not suffer—do not work—sleep!</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Wednesday, 8.30 p.m., 1835.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I am half afraid of taking too literally your request for a daily -letter. Tell me seriously how I am to interpret it, so that I may not -make myself ridiculous, by overwhelming you with letters you do not -want. Tell me the truth once for all, so that I may know where I am, and -may give myself up without restraint to the pleasure of telling you, and -writing to you, that I love you with all my heart, and that you alone -constitute my sole joy, my sole happiness, and my sole future. If you -can experience only one quarter of the bliss in reading, that I shall -feel in inditing my<a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a> scribble, you shall receive some of my prose every -day, but in limited quantities, calculated not to wear out your -patience.</p> - -<p>And, in order to demonstrate my powers of self-restraint, I will limit -myself to six trillions of kisses for your beautiful mouth. Besides, -here you come! I love you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Wednesday, 8 p.m., December 2nd, 1835.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My Beloved</span>,</p> - -<p>When one is ill and feverish, everything tastes bitter to the lips and -palate. I am in that position. I am abominably miserable, and all the -sweet words you lavish upon me seem tainted. But I have enough sense -left to realise that it is my condition that prevents me from relishing -the full meed of happiness you are able to give me in one moment. -Forgive me for suffering, and for not having the strength or generosity -to conceal it from you; it is only because I suffer too much, and love -you too much, which is the same thing.</p> - -<p>I promise to be very cheerful to-night, and to disguise my feelings. I -have read everything concerning you in the papers, and I cannot help -suspecting that a passage about you and your work has been purposely cut -out. If this is so, you had much better tell me, for I am quite equal to -bearing the truth, and even to hearing lies; so I beg you to tell me -what was in that newspaper, and thus spare me the trouble of procuring -another copy. You must indeed be happy and proud on behalf of the person -to whom you are supposed to have dedicated your sublime poem.<a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a></p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp160_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp160_sml.jpg" width="288" height="404" alt="VICTOR HUGO." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">VICTOR HUGO.</span> -</p> - -<p>The article by Monsieur F. Dugué seems singularly well-informed about -your restoration to the <i>domestic hearth</i>. I am apparently not the only -one who notices that for the last year you have been changing your -habits and feelings, though I am probably the only one who will die of -grief in consequence—but what matter, so long as the domestic hearth -remains <i>cheerful</i> and the <i>family</i>, <i>happy</i>.</p> - -<p>I hope you will do your best to come and see me to-morrow, during the -intervals of the performance unless the salutations you have to make, -and the compliments and admiration you must acknowledge should detain -you against your will; in which case I hope I may be brave enough not to -worry about such a trifle, and reasonable enough not to let the -magnitude of my love depend upon so slight a pleasure.</p> - -<p>You see, my dear angel, I bow to the arguments you impress on me. I am -no longer sad, neither do I suffer. I love you; that is the truest word -of all.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Tuesday, 8.45 p.m., December 15th, 1835.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Of course, my darling, you did right to come back, whatever your reason -might be; but the pleasure of your visit was quite spoilt by your -inquiry as to how I spend my time, when it is self-evident that my -conduct is irreproachable.</p> - -<p>It may surprise you that I should have borne the inquisition you -habitually subject me to, with less equanimity to-day than usual. I own, -my poor angel, that I do not know why it should be so. Perhaps I am like -the cripple, who feels pain in the leg which<a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a> has been cut off, long -after he has lost it. I often suffer over my past life, though the -present is so widely different. I suffer, not from variations of -temperature, but from the variations of your love, which seems to grow -daily colder and more gloomy. If I am mistaken, forgive and pity me; but -if, as I fear, I make no error, tell me so frankly, and I shall be -grateful for your sincerity. You see, my poor friend, I cannot believe -that your jealousy is other than an insulting mistrust of us both. I -have watched you carefully for the last six months, and I can see quite -well that, although your love is gradually waning, your supervision -becomes ever more active and more fidgety. If I were absolutely sure of -what I suspect, I should not say this to you—I should go away at once, -and you would never hear of me again; but if by chance I were wrong, and -you still care for me, such a course would entail frightful sorrow upon -us both. Therefore I remain, preferring to incur your hatred and -contempt, rather than run the risk of grieving you.</p> - -<p>There, my poor angel, is the attitude of mind and heart in which you -found me this evening; it will explain why I received your question so -badly, although I was grateful for your presence. You see, my head and -heart are weary. If you are not careful, some calamity, resulting from -this condition, will overtake and crush you, at a moment when neither -you nor I will be able to prevent it. I give you this warning in all -sincerity, but with the intimate conviction that it will not affect you. -As long as you feel I belong to you wholly and entirely, you are as -indifferent to my sufferings as to my happiness.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Wednesday, 8.30, February 3rd, 1836.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>If I have grieved you, my beloved, I beg you to forgive me, for I know -your position is awkward and demands much consideration, especially from -me. Besides, why should I complain of my mode of life more to-day, than -yesterday? I accept my position without regret; therefore there is no -reason for questioning an arrangement which only you can alter.</p> - -<p>I cannot help noticing that your love is not what it was. I may say I am -sure of it, if I may judge by the impatient words you occasionally -utter, half against your will, and by other signs it would take too long -to commit to paper. I certainly possess a <i>devoted</i> Victor, but no -longer the <i>lover</i> Victor of former days. If it is as I fear, it becomes -your duty to leave me at once; for I have never wished to live with you -otherwise than as an adored mistress—certainly not as a woman dependent -upon a man whose passion is spent. I want no pension. I demand my place -in your heart, apart from any feeling of duty or gratitude. That is what -I desire, as earnestly as I long to be a faithful woman, submissive to -your every whim, whether just or unjust.</p> - -<p>If I have hurt your feelings, my dearly beloved, I plead for pardon from -the bottom of my heart. If you have to acknowledge a decrease in your -love, be brave enough to do so frankly, and do not leave to me the -frightful task of guessing it; but if you care for me as much as ever, -say it again and again, for I doubt it, alas, and, in love, doubt is -more painful a thousand times than the most heartbreaking certainty. -Farewell, I worship you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Wednesday, 8.15 p.m., February 17th, 1836.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>You must think me either very cruel or very blind, my beloved. I think, -perhaps, it would be best for you to accept the latter hypothesis. I -love you, which means that I am jealous; but, as my jealousy is in -proportion to my love, my doubts and frenzy are more vivid, more bitter, -than those of ordinary women, who are only capable of an ordinary -affection. Very well—I am cruel! So be it! I detest every woman upon -whom your glances rest. I feel capable of hating all women, young or -old, plain or handsome, if I suspect that they have dared raise their -eyes to your splendid and noble features. I am jealous of the very -pavement upon which you tread, and the air you breathe. The stars and -sun alone are beyond my jealousy, because their radiance can be eclipsed -by one single flash from your eyes.</p> - -<p>I love you as the lioness loves her mate. I love you as a passionate -woman, ready to yield up her life at your slightest gesture. I love you -with the soul and intelligence God has lent His creatures to enable them -to appreciate exceptional men like yourself. That is why, my glorious -Victor, at one and the same moment, I can rage, weep, crawl, or stand -erect; I bow my head and venerate you!</p> - -<p>There are days when one can fix one’s gaze upon the sun itself without -being blinded: thus it is with me now. I see you, I am dazzled, -entranced, and I grasp your beauty in all its splendour.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 8 p.m., August 15th, 1836.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Since you leave me here all by myself, my beloved, I shall think only of -you, and in proof of this, I will<a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a> scribble all over this virgin sheet -of white paper. It is barbarous of you to let me grow fatter than I -already am, by leaving me to dawdle at my fireside, instead of taking me -out to walk and get thin.</p> - -<p>I am in love with you, but you do not care a bit. I am very sad not to -have you with me, doubly so, when I think that it is on account of a -play in which I am to have no part, after all the time I have waited and -endured. When I reflect seriously upon this, my despair makes me long to -fly to the uttermost ends of the world. It is so necessary that I should -think of my future. I have wasted so much time waiting, that it almost -spells ruin to me that you should produce a piece in which I may not -play. You see, my dearest, I am not as generous as you thought. I am -afraid I can no longer disguise from you the injury it does me to be -three years out of the theatrical world, while you are bringing out -plays. Forgive me, but I have a horror of poverty, and would do anything -in reason to evade it. I love you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Friday, 8.30 p.m., March 11th, 1836.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Dear little Soul</span>,</p> - -<p>You are quite happy, I hope, now that you possess the keys of Paradise. -I had a few more difficulties to encounter after you went away, but they -were of no consequence. Now that our little palace is nearly finished, -my soul, I hope we shall celebrate the event in the usual way; but I -must first rest a little, and nurse myself up, for I am really quite -worn out with the dirt and litter. I am afraid to look at you or touch -you in your beauty and purity<a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a> and charm, while I am so ugly and untidy -and exhausted that I hardly know myself as your Juju. But it will not -last. My foulness will fall from me, and reveal me dressed, as in the -fairy-tale, in garments of blue, bordered with golden stars, and a -prince will marry me after tasting of my cooking. Splendid! But -meanwhile you must graciously permit me to go on loving you, stains and -all! Shut your eyes to the common lamp that guards the flame. If you -will wait, you shall see that when we reach the heaven above us, I shall -be as resplendent as yourself. Meanwhile, I drop a kiss upon your shoes, -even if it entails your having them blacked again.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Wednesday, 7.45 p.m., March 23rd, 1836.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>No doubt, dear angel, I ought to disguise in your presence the sadness -that overwhelms me when I have to wait too long for you; but the late -hour at which you generally come, makes it difficult for me to forget -the weary suspense I have already been through, and am to endure again -shortly. I love you, my dear—indeed, I love you too much. We often say -this lightly, but I assure you that this time I state it in full gravity -and knowledge, for I feel it to the very marrow of my bones. I love you. -I am jealous. I hate being poor and devoid of talent, for I fear that -these deficiencies will cost me your love. Still, I am conscious of -something within me, greater than either wealth or intellect; but is it -powerful enough to rivet you to me for ever? I ask myself this question -night and day, and you are not at hand to soothe my unrest; hence the -sadness that wounds you, the jealousy that<a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a> amazes you, the mental -torment you are incapable of understanding.</p> - -<p>But I love you all the same, and am happy in the midst of my pain. I -smile through my tears, for I love you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Saturday, 8 a.m., March 26th, 1836.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good-morning, my little darling Toto.</p> - -<p>I am up at cock-crow, though very tired; but I want to be ready to -witness your new triumph—for, beloved Toto of mine, you are the <i>great</i> -Toto, the greatest man on earth.</p> - -<p>How I love you, my Victor! I am jealous. Even your success makes me -uneasy with the dread that, amongst so much adulation, you may overlook -the humble homage of your poor Juju. I fear that these universal -acclamations may drown my lowly cry of—<i>I love you!</i> This apprehension -becomes an obsession on such a day as this, when everything is at your -feet, caresses, adoration, frenzy. Ah, why are you not insignificant and -unknown like myself! I should then have no need to fear that the torch -of my love will be eclipsed by that immense illumination.</p> - -<p>Try, beloved, to keep a little place in your heart for the love and -admiration of your poor mistress, who has loved you from the day she -first set eyes upon you, and who will worship you as long as the breath -remains in her body.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Saturday, 6.15 p.m., March 26th, 1836.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Let me tell you once again that I love you, my Victor. Presently, -thousands of voices will be raised<a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a> in a chorus of <i>praise</i>. I alone -say: I <i>love</i> you. You are my joy, the light of my eyes, the treasure of -my life, you are <i>YOU</i>. This evening, my adored one, whatever you say or -do, I must be jealous and wretched. Be merciful to me; do not let me -suffer too cruelly. If you think of me when you are absent, I shall be -conscious of it—if you love me, I shall feel it upon my heart like -beneficent balm upon a raw wound.</p> - -<p>Farewell, dear soul; <i>it is impossible to wish an increase of beauty to -the man, or more glory to the genius; so, if you are happy, so am I</i>. -Farewell, then, dearest; I cannot refrain from sending a word of love to -the lover, before going to applaud the poet. The heart must have its due -share.</p> - -<p>Good-bye till later. For ever, for life and until death, love, nothing -but love!</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -Sunday, 7.45 p.m., March 27th, 1836.<br /> -</p> - -<p>I hardly dare speak to you to-night of love. I feel humiliated by my -devotion, for all those women seem to be rivals, preferred before me. I -suffer, but I do not hold you responsible. I feel worse even than usual -this evening. I did not venture to ask what you had written to Madame -Dorval, for I was afraid to discover some fresh reason for bitterness -and jealousy; so I remained silent.</p> - -<p>My dear treasure, you are very lucky not to be jealous: you have no -competition to fear with any other celebrity, for there is none besides -yourself, and <i>you</i> know that I love you with my whole heart, whereas -all <i>I</i> can be sure of is, that I love you far<a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a> too much to hope to be -loved in proportion. In addition, I feel I shall never be capable of -raising the heavy stone under which my intellect slumbers.</p> - -<p>Forgive me, I am sad. I am worse than sad—I am ashamed, because I am -jealous. I am an idiot, and consequently, I am in love!</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 8.30 p.m., April 14th, 1836.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I love you, my dear Victor, and you make me very unhappy when you seem -to doubt it. It is still harder for me when you put your want of -confidence into words, for I can only attribute it to the sacrifices you -constantly make for me, and which probably cause you to think that an -ignoble motive constrains me to remain under your protection. In -addition to thus wounding me in the most sensitive part of my love, you -exasperate me to a point I cannot describe, because it is true that I -have not the wherewithal to live independently of you and your -influence. Therefore, my poor angel, when you show your suspicions of my -sincerity, I read into them more than jealousy and ill-will: I imagine a -reproach against my dependent position. I feel an overwhelming need to -prove to you, by any means, that you are mistaken in the woman and her -love. <i>Remember your burnt letters!</i> You know what a doubt on your part -led me to do on one occasion. Well, angel, I tell you honestly that when -you question, not only my fidelity, but also my love, I long to fly to -the other side of the world, there to exist as best I can, and never -pronounce your name again for the rest of my life. This will be the last -proof of love I can give you, and at least you<a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a> will not be able to -accuse me, then, of self-interest and self-love. You hurt me terribly -to-night; you often do, and generally when I am most tender and -demonstrative towards you.</p> - -<p>Yet I love you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Tuesday, 8 p.m., April 19th, 1836.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Beloved, I am perfectly certain you will not come to fetch me to see -<i>Lucrèce</i>, and I am already resigned. There is only one thing I shall -never submit to, and that is, the loss of your love. I know you are -devoted, that you lavish friendship upon me; but I feel that you have no -more love to give me, and I cannot bear it. During the four months I -have been alone, ill for the most part, I never knew whether the time -would come when you would be impelled to say to me: <i>Take courage, for I -love you</i>. I would have given life to find those words in your -handwriting at my bedside in the morning, or on my pillow at night. I -waited in vain, they never came; my sorrow grew, and now I am certain -that you have ceased to care for me.</p> - -<p>I know what you will say, Victor—you will tell me that you are hard at -work, that you do everything for me, and do not let me want for -anything. To that I reply that I have been just as busy or busier than -you, yet have always found time to show you the outward signs of my -inward love. I may also tell you that, without your love, I <i>do</i> want -for <i>everything</i>, and that my life is utterly wretched without it. -Lastly, I declare to you that if you continue to be so <i>reasonably</i> kind -and attentive, I will release you from your self-imposed burden, at some -moment when you least<a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a> expect it, and for evermore. I must have true -love or nothing.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Monday, 7.45 p.m., May 2nd, 1836.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My dear little Beloved</span>,</p> - -<p>I am sorry to find that you are not as convinced as I am, of the -propriety of giving me your portrait.</p> - -<p>I confess I feel the greatest disappointment when I realise, from your -daily evasion of my request, that I shall probably never become the -possessor of the picture which is so like you, nor even, perhaps, of a -copy of the original. I am sad and dejected. I think you do not care -enough for me, a poor disinherited creature, to do me the favour you -have already bestowed upon another, who already has her full meed of the -gifts of life. I am therefore greatly disappointed. I had counted upon -having the portrait, and had anticipated much happiness from its -possession. The contemplation of it would have so greatly contributed to -my courage and resignation, that it is very grievous to have to renounce -it thus suddenly, without any compensation.</p> - -<p>If I wanted to speak of other things now, I could not; my heart is -heavy, my eyes overflow with tears. I can only find bitter words for the -expression of my wounded love.</p> - -<p>I love you more to-day than I have ever done before, yet I am not happy.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Friday, 7.45 a.m., May 20th, 1836.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Good morning, my dear little Toto.</span></p> - -<p>You failed me again last night, so I shall never count upon you again. I -loved you with all my strength, and thought of you even in my sleep. -This morning I love you with my whole soul, and heartily long for you, -but I know you will not come, so I am cross and sad.</p> - -<p>How fine the weather is, my Toto, and how happy we could be in the fresh -air, on the high road, in a nice little carriage, with a month of -happiness in prospect: it would be Paradise, but ... but ... I dare not -set my heart upon it, for I should go crazy with grief if the treat were -withheld. At all events, I am ready to start; my foot is well again, and -we can set off to-night, or to-morrow morning, at whatever time suits -you. I am quite ready, let us, therefore, seize our chance of the fine -weather.</p> - -<p>My adored one, I am dying to make this expedition.... Do try to get free -at the earliest moment possible. I shall be so happy. I still love you, -ever so much. I need you terribly. My heart is more than ready for the -happiness you will give me during the whole time we shall be together.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 12.45 p.m., July 21st, 1836.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Once more I am reduced to writing all that is in my heart, my adored -one. It is but a slender satisfaction after the bliss we have been -enjoying. Nevertheless, we must take life as we find it, and it would be -ungracious of me to complain. A month like the one we have just spent -would compensate for a whole<a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a> life-time of misfortune and worry. Poor -angel, since you left me I feel lost and alone in the world. You cannot -imagine the utter void, surrounded as you are at this moment by the -affection of charming children and devoted friends, while I am alone -with my love—that is to say alone in space—for my love has no limits. -I seek what consolation I can, by speaking to you, and writing to you. -Your handkerchief, breathing of you, lies by my side, with your adored -name embroidered in the corner. I caress and talk to it, and we -understand each other perfectly. For every kiss I press upon it, it -exhales your sweet aroma; it is as if I scented your very soul. Then I -weep, as one does in a beautiful dream from which one fears to awake. -Heavens, how I love you! You are my life, my joy! I adore you!</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Friday, 2.15 p.m., September 2nd, 1836.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>My poor, beloved angel. The nearer the moment approaches, the more I -dread the inevitable parting which must follow the few days of happiness -you have just given me. I long for delay, but I know very well that, -however Providence may interpose in my favour, the day must come when -you will have to go to St. Prix. Lucky for me if it is not to-day. But, -putting aside all considerations of love and Juju, it would really not -be prudent for you to go to the country in this cold, foggy weather; -even this morning, in the warmth and repose of home, you felt a warning -twinge of rheumatism, which prescribes prudence on your part. I fear -your natural desire to kiss Toto on his donkey, and watch the other -little rogues<a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a> at their holiday occupations, may draw you, in spite of -rain, wind, and the good counsel of your old Juju, to St. Prix. At any -rate, if you do this foolish thing, try to avoid chills, to think of me, -and to come back to my care and caresses as quickly as possible.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Saturday, 6 p.m., 29th, 1836.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>You torment me unjustly, as usual, my darling beloved. Yet you ought to -begin to know me, and not suspect my every action, down to the drinking -of a cup of coffee. The awkwardness of my position, the absolute -solitude in which I am compelled to live, and the many insults I have to -tolerate daily from you, exasperate me so, that I feel I would rather go -out of your life, than continue to exist like a woman condemned and -accursed.</p> - -<p>It is your fault that I am so unhappy. Nobody else will ever love you so -well, or be so entirely devoted to you. But one is not bound to put up -with impossibilities, and I cannot live longer under a yoke which you -make more crushing every day. What am I to do, beloved? Run away from -you? I have scarcely enough money for my quiet Paris <i>routine</i>. Remain -here? If you have not the courage to abstain from visiting me, I -certainly shall never have enough to prevent you from coming.</p> - -<p>The wound in my heart is raw and bleeding, thanks to the care you take -to keep it in that condition. The slightest additional twinge becomes -unbearable torture. I do not know what moral operation I would not -consent to, to be cured of it.</p> - -<p>For the last three years you have really given me<a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a> too much pain. I -implore you, from the bottom of my heart, to be less offensive with me, -or else to leave me for good and all. You may guess from this what I am -enduring.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Sunday, 2 p.m., January 1st, 1837.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Your darling, adorable letter has reached me. I have devoured it with -caresses. Oh, how I love you! I have just sent my child out of the room, -so that I might read it on my knees in front of your picture. These -little pranks may seem foolish, but they contain a deeper, more sacred -significance, like the devotion that inspires them.</p> - -<p>When you come, you will find me joyous and radiant, as I was on that -glorious day when you first revealed your love. My beloved, my heart, I -am very happy. I am in heaven, for you love me, my Toto ... your dear -letter has said it. Your eyes, your mouth, your soul, will tell me so -still better, presently. Yes, indeed I am happy, I am surfeited. There -is nothing left for me to desire or require—I have your love, a love -which God Himself might envy were He a <i>woman</i>.</p> - -<p>Thank you, adored one, thank you from my heart and soul. I am as good as -gold, believe me.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juju.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Tuesday, 7.30 p.m., February 21st, 1837.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Do not grieve, my precious, do not lament. I will not attempt -consolation, for you have better and more efficacious resources within -your own self; but I share your affliction. Whatever saddens you -saddens<a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a> me: where you love, I love; when you mourn, I mourn. If I -conjure you not to give way to your grief, it is not because I hesitate -to bear my portion of it, but because I believe that your poor brother -himself would not now desire a return to this life.<a name="FNanchor_65_65" id="FNanchor_65_65"></a><a href="#Footnote_65_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a> I look upon his -death more as a blessing than a misfortune. Poor brother!</p> - -<p>I love you, my adored Victor. In moments such as these, when sorrow -brings you nearer to my level, I feel that my affection for you is -absolutely true and purified from all dross. Try to come early this -evening. I will lavish caresses upon you silently, with my eyes and my -innermost self, without worrying you. You shall rest by my fireside, and -lean your dear head upon my shoulder, and read, and I shall be glad.</p> - -<p>I am jealous of that woman who has dared to <i>steal</i> your verses; such -things are not <i>lost</i>. It was a two-fold wickedness on her part, for she -caused <i>you</i> the trouble of rewriting them, and <i>me</i> the torment of -jealousy. I will not have you see her again, ever! Do you hear?</p> - -<p>Oh, I love you, I love you far too much.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Monday, 7.15 p.m., April 2nd, 1837.</i><br /> -</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp176a_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp176a_sml.jpg" width="223" height="312" alt="CARICATURE OF MLLE. GEORGE, BY VICTOR HUGO. -Victor Hugo Museum." /></a> -<a href="images/ill_fp176b_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp176b_sml.jpg" width="218" height="307" alt="PORTRAIT OF VICTOR HUGO BY HIMSELF." /></a> -<br /> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="border:none;"> -<tr valign="top" align="center"><td> -<span class="caption2">CARICATURE OF MLLE. GEORGE, BY VICTOR HUGO.<br /> -Victor Hugo Museum.</span></td><td> </td><td> -<span class="caption2">PORTRAIT OF VICTOR HUGO BY HIMSELF.</span></td></tr> -</table> - -</div> - -<p>I have decided to get up, after all, thanks to the laundry-man; but for -him, I should have remained in bed, nursing my depression. I am sad -beyond everything, yet I cannot tell why—you are kind and affectionate, -and I love you with my whole soul;<a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a> but that does not seem enough. -Esteem, the keystone of happiness, is lacking. I have worn myself out in -the endeavour to gain it during the last four years, yet it cometh not, -nor ever will come, now. I must turn my efforts in another direction. I -must try to break with you, tactfully, as you say, by quitting Paris, -and perhaps France. Will that be sufficient to stop the tongue of -scandal? I wish to leave you before you abandon me, because I do not -admit your right to inflict such a fearful blow upon me. There are -people, capable of committing suicide, who yet recoil at the thought of -being murdered—I am one. I can and will kill myself, but I shrink from -the injury you might possibly inflict upon me before long. My courage -does not outstrip your cruelty. I love you too much for happiness.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Tuesday, 10.15 a.m., May 2nd, 1837.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, my well-beloved. Did you have a good night? You looked -overstrained and tired yesterday, and indeed there was enough to make -you so, you poor dear. I do not know how you can put up with it all. -Forgive me for adding to your burthen the exactions of a woman who -loves, and fears to recognise in lassitude an evidence of coldness. -Forgive me; if I did not occasionally doubt your love I should torment -you less, and would show more consideration for your occupations and -repose.</p> - -<p>You hurt me very much last night by speaking as you did, yet I wanted to -know your true opinion of me. I have long been tormented by a mournful -curiosity on that point. Last night you satisfied it in full. I<a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a> know -now that you pity without despising me. I accept your compassion, for I -need it, and ought to have it; but I should indignantly repudiate a -contempt I do not deserve. My past history is sad, but not disgraceful. -My life until I met you was the melancholy outcome of a poor girl’s -first fault; but at least it was never soiled by those hideous vices -that deface the soul still more than the body. Even at the worst moments -of my trouble, I cherished within me an inner sanctuary, whither I could -betake myself, as to some hallowed spot. Since then, that sanctuary has -been open to you only, and you can testify whether you have found it -worthy of you; you know whether, since you have occupied its throne and -altar, I have ever failed, one single day or minute, to prostrate myself -on my knees before you in adoration, or have ever turned my gaze or my -soul away from you. This proves, my beloved, that my former backsliding -was only superficial, not inherently vicious; that my wound was -accidental, not a loathsome, devouring canker; that I love you now, and -am thereby made whole.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Tuesday, 10.45 a.m., May 2nd, 1837.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I am following up my letter immediately with another, because I am -alone, and the moment is propitious for me to open my heart to you from -the very bottom. Racket and pleasure are a hindrance to meditation, and -at this moment I am rapt in contemplation of you and your beloved image. -I see you as you are, that is to say, a God-made man to redeem and -rescue me from the infamous life to which<a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a> I had so long been enslaved. -What Christ did for the world you have done for me: like Him, you saved -my soul at the expense of your repose and life. May you be as blessed -for this generous action as you are adored by me for it. I should have -loved you, devil or angel, bad or good, selfish or devoted, cruel or -generous—I must have loved you, for at the mere sight of you my whole -being cries out: <i>I love you!</i> Would that I might proclaim it on my -knees, with hands clasped and heart on lips: <i>I love you! I love you!</i> -The talk we had last night kept me from sleeping, but I do not complain; -there are moments when sleep is a misfortune. I needed to rehearse one -by one all your words, to collect carefully those which must remain for -ever enshrined in my bosom as treasures of consolation and love; the -less generous ones you uttered, I have consumed in the flame of my soul; -nothing remains of them but ashes, dead as the ashes of my past.</p> - -<p>Do not turn away in disgust from the scratches I have sustained in -falling from my pedestal, as you might from hideous and incurable -wounds. I repeat again, my beloved, because it is the truth: misfortune -there has been in my life, but neither debauchery nor moral turpitude. -Henceforth there can be nothing but a sacred, pure love for you. I am -worthy of pardon and affection. Love me; I crave it of you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 11.15 a.m., May 11th, 1837.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, my dear little man; I have bad weather to announce: rain, -snow, hail, wind, and, in<a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a> addition, an abominable cold in my head which -does not help to resign me to a day already filled with clouds. I love -you—do you know that? and I admire you for your beautiful soul. It is -splendid of you, my great Toto, to have raised your voice so powerfully -in defence of the poor, dead King.<a name="FNanchor_66_66" id="FNanchor_66_66"></a><a href="#Footnote_66_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a> You alone had the right, for you -only are above suspicion; you only are influential enough to compel the -impious, pitiless world to listen to your indulgent and religious voice. -If it were possible for me to love you more, I should do so for this; -but from the first day I saw you I have given my whole heart and -thoughts and soul unreservedly into your keeping.</p> - -<p>How I love you, my adored Victor, how I love you! In that short and -much-misused word is contained all my soul, all the bloom of a devotion -that has opened out under the sun of your gaze. Good-bye, my own.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Friday, 8.30 p.m., June 2nd, 1837.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My little Man</span>,</p> - -<p>You must make up your mind to take my love or leave it. Compare my life -with yours, and see whether I do not deserve that you should pity and -love me with all your might. I am all alone, I have neither family nor -fame, nor the thousand and one distractions that surround you. As I say, -I am alone, always alone; it even seems probable that I shall not see -you to-night, while you will be spending your evening in feasting, -talking, and visiting your uncle, whom may the devil fly away with. -Everybody can<a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a> get you except me; the exception is flattering and well -chosen. I am so unhappy that I am going to bed and shall probably cry my -eyes out—I am more inclined for that than for laughing. If you succeed -in cheering me up to-night, I shall know you for a great man, and a -still greater sorcerer; but you will not attempt it. I may be as sad and -miserable as I like, and I am certain you will never interfere.</p> - -<p>Good-night, Toto; I am going to bed. Good-night, be happy and gay and -content; your poor Juju will be unhappy enough for both. I love you, -Toto.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Wednesday, 1.30 p.m., June 10th.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I love you before all things, and after all things. I love you, love -you, love you! I have just written to Mother Pierceau that I shall send -Suzanne to her to-morrow. I forgot to ask you exactly how much money you -brought me yesterday, and also for cash, for yesterday’s expenses. I -will do so to-night. I try hard to keep my accounts accurately, yet I am -always in a muddle at the end of the month, and always either above or -below what I ought to have. I do my best, but nothing seems to bring my -sums out right.</p> - -<p>I think there is going to be a big storm. The sky is lowering like -yesterday, and the weather still more oppressive. Try not to get wet, -and come and fetch your umbrella before it begins to pour.</p> - -<p>What a delightful afternoon we spent yesterday! I wish we could have it -over again, even if we had to be soaked to the skin. I shall never -forget the Bassin du Titan.<a name="FNanchor_67_67" id="FNanchor_67_67"></a><a href="#Footnote_67_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a> The pretty turtledove that came to -slake<a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a> its thirst in it seemed to recognise us, and wait for its drink, -until you scattered drops of poetry into the mossy, flowery grooves, -surrounding its edges.</p> - -<p>Heavens! what precious pearls you squandered yesterday in that -magnificent garden, at the feet of those peerless goddesses, which seem -to come to life when your glance rests upon them—what flowers upon -those lawns, peopled with joyous children! How all those gods and -goddesses, heroes, kings, queens, women, nymphs, and children, must have -quarrelled over the treasure you lavished upon them! I was sorry to go -away. I should have liked to go back in the moonlight and gather up all -those jewels upon which you set so little store. Oh, I must return there -very soon, and we will at the same time revisit our Metz, where we have -enjoyed so much bliss. That journey will bring us happiness, and I long -to make it. I love you, my great Toto. Forgive this scribble; it looks -absurd now, and indeed it must needs be so, for I was inebriated with -love when I wrote it. My thoughts stagger and fall upon the paper, -because they have drunk too deeply of my soul, and know not where they -are.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 3.45 p.m., July 27th, 1837.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I must contribute my scribble in acknowledgment for the delightful lines -you have just written in my little book.<a name="FNanchor_68_68" id="FNanchor_68_68"></a><a href="#Footnote_68_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a> My voice will sound like -the cackle of a hen after the song of a nightingale; but that is the law -of nature, so I do not see why I should be silent,<a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a> because I have heard -you. It was rash of you, my dear little man, to put down the date you -suppose was that of my birth; but, as I am too honest to contradict you, -I accept it and affirm that, since those days when you were a little boy -studying <i>Quintus Curtius</i>, you have developed, and far outstripped all -those you revered and admired when you were an urchin of seven—while I -have remained the poor, uncultured girl you know. It is pretty certain -that education could have added but little to my barren nature; the -weeds of the sea-shore do not gain much from cultivation. On that point, -thank Heaven, I have nothing to complain of. No one worried much about -me until you appeared upon the scene; but you came, my great and sublime -poet, and you did not disdain to cull the little scentless flower -prinking itself at your feet, to attract the sunshine of your glance. I -bless you for your goodness. I know that a father and mother look down -upon you from the realms above, and love you for the happiness you have -given to the poor little daughter they left solitary on earth. I weep as -I write, for it is the first time I have really looked into my innocent -past, and my loving heart. I bless you, my generous man, on earth, as -you will be blest in heaven. May all those dear to you participate in -this benediction, and in the joys and riches of this world and the next!</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 9 a.m., September 21st, 1837.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Good morning, my Beloved.</span></p> - -<p>The anniversary of our return to Paris has been sadder still than the -day itself, since you have<a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a> not been with me at all, either last night -or this morning. I am upset in consequence. I have not yet taken off my -nightcap. I am cross. Shall you be at Auteuil all day? What a -disappointment for poor Juju, not to speak of Claire, who has to take -her chance of my temper when I am cross, and that idiot Madame Guérard, -who has put me to the expense of a stamp merely to say that she thinks -she is getting fat, and that she wishes you good morning. How thrilling!</p> - -<p>I love you, dearest Toto; I love you too much, for I am miserable when -you are away. I wish I could care comfortably, like you, for instance, -who feel neither better nor worse, whether I am near or far. You are -always the same; love never makes you miss the point of a joke, or a -hearty laugh, nor fail to notice a grey cloud, the Great Bear, a frog, a -sunset, the earth, water, gale, or zephyr. You see everything, enjoy -everything, without a thought for poor old Juju, who is being bored to -desperation in her solitary corner. Which of us two is the best lover, -eh? Answer that it is I, Juju, and you will be speaking the truth. Yes, -I love you. Try not to stay away from me all day. Love me for being sad -in your absence.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Saturday, 6.30 p.m., September 23rd, 1837.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>You are making yourself more and more of a rarity, my beautiful star, so -that I become chilled, and gloomy as an antique, moss-grown statue, -abandoned in the wilds of some deserted garden. I am not angry with you, -but I do wish you were less busy and more lover-like. You have quickly -resumed your fine Paris<a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a> appearance, my beloved little man, whilst I -still cling to my travelling disguise. You ought surely to have waited -for me to take the initiative, if only for the sake of manners. Whom are -you so anxious to please, my bright boy? Who is the favoured one you -aspire to put in my place? In any case, I warn you that I shall not be -sly like Granier,<a name="FNanchor_69_69" id="FNanchor_69_69"></a><a href="#Footnote_69_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a> but that I shall fall upon your respective -carcases with frank blows of a cudgel, mind that! Now you may go in -search of your charmer, if you are prepared to see your bones ground to -powder for my use.</p> - -<p>If you come early this evening I shall be so happy, so cheery, so -content and good, that you will never wish to leave me again; but, if -you delay, I shall be exactly the reverse, and you will have to coax and -love me with all your might to comfort me.</p> - -<p>You are letting your letter-box get over-full again. Toto, Toto, I shall -make a bonfire of its contents if you do not come quick and secure them. -Mind what you are about!</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Wednesday, 12.45 p.m., November 22nd, 1837.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I really believe you do it on purpose; but you may be certain that I -shall pay you back in the same kind: indifference for indifference; -<i>donnant donnant</i> is my motto.</p> - -<p>Now let us talk of other things. What do you think of the taking of -Constantine? I cannot believe the present Ministry will survive long as -at present constituted; Thiers and Barot may be called upon at any -moment to form a new cabinet. What is your<a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a> opinion? The commercial -crisis is still making itself felt in the markets; oils of every -description have gone down; for instance, rape oil which was at 47 is -now only at 45. A recovery is looked for next year, but I have my doubts -about it, haven’t you?<a name="FNanchor_70_70" id="FNanchor_70_70"></a><a href="#Footnote_70_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a></p> - -<p class="cb">. . . . . -. . . . . -. . . . . -. . . . . -. . . . . -. . . . . -. . . . .</p> - -<p>Do you not agree with me that all this points to a revolution in the -near future, which will entail sinister results for Wailly’s Government? -For my part, I view with consternation the removal of the Carlists from -St. Jean Pied de Port to Paimbœuf, after a sojourn at St. Ménéhould. -I am already sick of the recital of the horrors which disturb the -digestion and the tranquillity of the citizens, of whom you are the -chief ornament. Pray accept the expression of my distinguished -consideration.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>December 5th, 5 p.m., 1837.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>How kind you are, my Toto, to have come and relieved the suspense I was -in as to what had happened in Court.<a name="FNanchor_71_71" id="FNanchor_71_71"></a><a href="#Footnote_71_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a> Heavens, how well you spoke! I -was so moved and so convinced while I listened, that I forgot even to -admire you, yet I have never known you finer or more eloquent. Why must -the case be adjourned for a week? Is it to allow time for intrigues -against the incorruptible consciences of my lords the judges? I should -have given worlds for the verdict to have been delivered to-day; first -because it would<a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a> relieve you of an anxiety as annoying as it is -fatiguing, secondly because I myself crave repose, and since this devil -of a lawsuit has come on the scene I cannot sleep at night, and lastly -because I shall then see you oftener, or at least so I hope.</p> - -<p>While I was waiting for you just now I copied a few passages from the -letters of Mdlle. de Lespinasse about the C. D.<a name="FNanchor_72_72" id="FNanchor_72_72"></a><a href="#Footnote_72_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a> and the S.<a name="FNanchor_73_73" id="FNanchor_73_73"></a><a href="#Footnote_73_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a> of -her period. Her opinions then, fit our own times absolutely: the same -absurdities, the same platitudes, and the same petty triumphs! It would -be pitiable were it not so grotesque. Nothing seems to have altered in -the last sixty years; there are the identical <i>bourgeois</i> in the -identical Rue Saint Denis, the same men and women of the world—nothing -is missing. They have not grown old, they are still in good health. -Stupidity and bad taste are the best agents for the maintenance of -society in all its pristine foolishness. Here am I drivelling on just as -if I knew what I was talking about. It would be a nice set-out if I -attempted to write! I might just as well present myself as a candidate -for the Senate. Please forgive me. Your lawsuit is the cause of my -chatter, but I will not transgress again. I love you far too much to go -out of my way to make a fool of myself.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a></p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="4">Receipts for the Month of December 1837</td></tr> -<tr class="sml"><td align="left">Dec.</td><td align="center">Frs.</td><td align="center">Sous.</td><td align="center"> Liards.</td></tr> -<tr><td>Cash in hand</td><td align="right">4</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">3</td></tr> -<tr><td> 1. Money earned by my Toto</td><td align="right">51</td><td align="right">4</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td> 4. Cash from my darling</td><td align="right">5</td><td align="right">10</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td> 6. Money earned by my dear one</td><td align="right">44</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td> 9. Cash from my Toto’s purse</td><td align="right">10</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td>12. <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span></td><td align="right">5</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td>13. <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span></td><td align="right">7</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td>14. Money earned by my darling</td><td align="right">45</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td>17. Cash from my adored one</td><td align="right">10</td><td align="right">2</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td>18. <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span></td><td align="right">4</td><td align="right">2</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td>19. Money earned by my beloved</td><td align="right">60</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td>22. Cash from my Toto</td><td align="right">2</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td>24. <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span></td><td align="right">10</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td>26. <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span> <span class="ditto">”</span></td><td align="right">3</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td>28. Money earned by my Toto</td><td align="right">102</td><td align="right">12</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td>30. Money earned by my darling</td><td align="right">100</td><td align="right">9</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td> <i>Plus</i> the money for the earring and ring</td><td align="right">2</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td align="center">Total</td><td align="right" class="btd">466</td><td align="right" class="btd">19</td><td align="right" class="btd">3</td></tr> -</table> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="4">Expenditure for the Month of December 1837</td></tr> -<tr class="sml"><td align="right"> </td><td align="right">Frs.</td><td align="right">Sous.</td><td align="right">Liards.</td></tr> -<tr><td>Food and wine</td><td align="right">99</td><td align="right">2</td><td align="right">3</td></tr> -<tr><td>Coal</td><td align="right">1</td><td align="right">1</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td>Lighting</td><td align="right">21</td><td align="right">6</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td>Household expenses and postage</td><td align="right">16</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td>Baths, illness</td><td align="right">8</td><td align="right">1</td><td align="right">0</td><td>½</td></tr> -<tr><td>General expenditure</td><td align="right">29</td><td align="right">8</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td>Incidental expenses and pocket-money</td><td align="right">5</td><td align="right">8</td><td align="right">0</td><td>½</td></tr> -<tr><td>Dress</td><td align="right">41</td><td align="right">5</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td>Incidental expenses and pocket-money</td><td align="right">5</td><td align="right">8</td><td align="right">0</td><td>½</td></tr> -<tr><td>Dress</td><td align="right">41</td><td align="right">5</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td>Washing</td><td align="right">16</td><td align="right">5</td><td align="right">0<a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Debts and pawnbroker</td><td align="right">151</td><td align="right">6</td><td align="right">0</td><td>½</td></tr> -<tr><td>Wages</td><td align="right">20</td><td align="right">13</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td>To the Lanvins</td><td align="right">4</td><td align="right">2</td><td align="right">0</td><td>½</td></tr> -<tr><td align="center">Total</td><td align="right">413</td><td align="right">19</td><td align="right">5</td></tr> -<tr><td align="center">Cash in hand</td><td align="right">53</td><td align="right">0</td><td align="right">0</td></tr> -<tr><td align="right"> </td><td align="right" class="btd">466</td><td align="right" class="btd">19</td><td align="right" class="btd">5</td><td><a name="FNanchor_74_74" id="FNanchor_74_74"></a><a href="#Footnote_74_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>To Toto: 9 luncheons.</p> - -<p>Dinners to 10 persons.</p> - -<p>In all, about 19.</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Sunday, 1.45 p.m., January 21st, 1838.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good-morning, my dear one, good-morning, my big Toto. How did you manage -to fit into your bed? You must have curled yourself up into five or six -hundred curves. One grows at such a pace in the space of an evening like -last night<a name="FNanchor_75_75" id="FNanchor_75_75"></a><a href="#Footnote_75_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a> that you must have become gigantic by this morning, -though you were already greater than any one else in the world. I have -grown, too, for my love equals your beauty, equals the praises and -admiration lavished upon you; so, unless one is prepared to state, -against all logic, that the container is smaller than the contents, I -must have grown and even surpassed you—without vanity. Love exalts as -much as glory does, and I love you more than you are great. Yes my Toto, -yes my dear Victor, I dare affirm it because it is true. I love you more -than you are great.</p> - -<p>How did you spend the night, adored one? I hope you did not work, tired -out as you were, and in that<a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a> horrible little icehouse. I cannot think -of that room without shivering from head to foot. I shall be very glad -when I hear that it is closed and warmed. Unfortunately that does not -promise to be soon, and meanwhile you suffer and freeze, and I torment -myself about you.</p> - -<p>I adore you, my beloved Toto. I would die for you if you would promise -always to think lovingly of me; even without that condition I adore you, -my Victor.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Sunday, 5.45 p.m., January 21st, 1838.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Must it always be my lot to wait, dearly beloved? I thought I had given -proofs sufficient of courage and resignation all this time, to have -earned my reward now. Of course I know you must have had the whole of -Paris in your house to-day, but if you cared for me as I do for you, you -would leave all Paris, and the world itself, for me. What good is the -back door, if not to enable you to evade importunate people, and fly to -the poor love who awaits you with so much longing and affection? Why -carry <i>four keys</i> in your pocket, like the gaoler in a comic opera, if -you do not make use of them on the proper occasion? I am very sad, my -Toto. I do not think you care for me any more. You are as splendidly -kind and generous as ever, but you are no longer the ardent lover of old -days. It is quite true although you will not admit it out of compassion -for me. I am very unhappy. Some day I shall do something desperate to -rid you of me, for I cannot bear to realise the coldness of your heart, -and at the same time to accept your generous self-sacrifice.<a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a></p> - -<p>You know I have always told you that I will accept nothing from you if -you do not love me! I love you so much that if I could inspire you with -my feelings, there would be nothing left for me to desire in this world.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Monday, Noon, February 12th, 1838.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good-morning, my dear little man. How are you this morning? I am very -well, but I should be still better if I had seen you and breakfasted -with you.... I am arranging to go to <i>Hernani</i> to-night. I hope there -will be no hitch, and that the promise of the bills will at last be -fulfilled. I am longing for the moment. It is such ages since I have -seen my <i>Hernani</i>, and it is such a beautiful creation! I wish it were -already night, and I were in my little box, with dear little Toto -sitting at the back, where I might reward him with eyes and lips for -every beautiful line. You are not jealous? Yes, I want you to be -jealous! I want you to be jealous, even of yourself, or else I shall not -believe that you love me.</p> - -<p>Good-morning, Toto. All this nonsense simply means that I dote on you -and think you beautiful and great and adorable. You did not come last -night—probably because there was to be a rehearsal this morning. Try -and behave properly at it, for I have Argus eyes and shall come down -upon you myself, like a thunderbolt, in the midst of your antics. -Meanwhile, take care of yourself; do not get cold feet or a headache -like mine; it would be a great nuisance.</p> - -<p>Dear soul, if you had the least regard for your<a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a> health, you would have -your flannel underclothing made at once. I assure you you would find it -very comfortable. I am sorry now that I let you take the stuff away, for -if I had it still, I should force you to do all this. It is not that I -want to worry you, my adored one, for I know how many other important -things you have to think of, but this is one of the most pressing; that -is why I should like it done. I love you, my Toto, with all my strength, -and more yet. I press my lips in spirit upon your eyes and hair.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Wednesday, 12.15 p.m., March 7th, 1838.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good-morning, my dear little beloved. How are your eyes, my Toto? It -torments me to know that you are suffering so much, for however brave -and uncomplaining you may be, I can see quite well that you are in pain.</p> - -<p>If you knew how I love you, my dear one, you would understand my trouble -and grief when you suffer. I suppose you are going to the rehearsal this -morning. I wish the first performance<a name="FNanchor_76_76" id="FNanchor_76_76"></a><a href="#Footnote_76_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a> was to be this evening, for I -am trembling already. Generally, I only begin to shiver on the day -itself, but this time my terrors have set in twenty-four hours in -advance. I hope my fears will have been vain, like so often before, and -that your beautiful poetry will prove all-conquering as ever. To-morrow -my soul will animate the spectators. I shall inspire enthusiasm in the -discriminating, and strangle, by sheer<a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a> force of love, the hatred and -envy of the scum who would dare criticise your magnificent <i>Marion</i>, for -whom I have so special a partiality.</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp192_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp192_sml.jpg" width="376" height="283" alt="AUTOGRAPH AND DRAWING BY JULIETTE DROUET." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">AUTOGRAPH AND DRAWING BY JULIETTE DROUET.</span> -</p> - -<p>I express myself awkwardly, but I feel all this acutely.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Wednesday, 7.30 p.m., March 7th, 1838.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My Darling</span>,</p> - -<p>I see you very seldom, but it is not your fault, I know. I look -constantly into my heart, whence you are never absent, and there I see -you growing daily nobler, greater, and dearer. So to-morrow is <i>the -great day</i>! Ardently as I have desired its advent, I now dread it more -than I can say. However, up till now I have always been very frightened, -and nothing has happened, so I hope it may be the same this time. -Besides, how could the disapproval of a few miserable wretches and -idiots affect the magnificent verses of <i>Marion</i>? It will only prompt -the sincere and intelligent portion of the audience to do you instant -and brilliant justice. I am no longer afraid. I am as brave and strong -as love itself. Put me where you like—I do not care—all places are -equally good to applaud from, just as all moments are suitable for -adoring you. Good-bye, my love.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 12.45 p.m., March 8th, 1838.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good-morning, blessed one. I am quite upset. If your success to-night is -in proportion to my fright,<a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a> you will have the most magnificent triumph -of your life. I hardly know what I am doing; I am shaking like a leaf, I -cannot grasp my pen. I must try to pull myself together for this -evening. It is absurd of me to be such a little craven; besides, what -harm can a <i>cabal</i> do you? None! It can only enhance your greatness, if -such a thing be possible; so, I am ashamed of my cowardice. I am -horribly stupid to dread a thing which certainly will not happen, and if -it did, would not injure you. Now that is enough! I will not fear again, -and I will admire and applaud my <i>Marion</i> in the very face of the cabal. -I will give them a hot time to-night! Bravo! bravo!! bravo!!! I feel as -if I were there already, and the happiest of women.</p> - -<p>My little darling man, are you not soon coming to me? I do so long for -you. I feel as if you had been very cold to me lately. In the old days, -a first performance did not prevent your coming to make love to me. -Heavens, what torture it is to have to doubt you at a moment when I am -so desperately in need of you! I love you!</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Friday, 1.45 p.m., March 9th, 1838.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>You are adorable, my great Victor. I wish I could express myself as -earnestly as I feel, but that is impossible; I am tongue-tied. So the -great performance is over! What a fool I was to be frightened, and how -rightly I placed my confidence in that great noodle the public, which is -so slow and so hard to work up, but when once started, boils over so -satisfactorily. What a magnificent success, and how<a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a> thoroughly -justified! What a beautiful piece, what lovely verses! and the -fascinating poet! Everything was understood, applauded, admired. It was -delightful. My soul was raised heavenward with the Play. Dear God, how -magnificent it was!!!!!!!!!!! I must be there again to-morrow, and every -night. Surely I have the right!</p> - -<p>I love you, my Toto, I adore you with all the strength of my soul. I -wish I could go out—it is such a fine day. I kiss your beloved hands.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Sunday, 12.15 a.m., March 11th, 1838.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good-morning, my beloved one, good-morning, handsomest and greatest of -men. I cannot speak as well as some of the people who pay you such -beautiful and sincere homage, but I feel from the bottom of my soul that -I admire and love you more than any one in the world. All the same, I am -sad and discouraged. I can see that you place no reliance on my -intelligence, that my last years are flying by without earning what they -easily might: a position, and a provision for the future. I am not angry -with you. It is not your fault if you are prejudiced against me to the -point of allowing me, without regret, to waste the last few years of my -youth. Possibly my desire to create for myself an independent position, -and to remain ever at your side, has given birth to the delusion that I -possess a great talent which only requires scope. However that may be, I -am in despair, and I love you more than ever. You are good to look at, -my adored one, you are great in intellect, my Victor, and yet I dare -proffer my<a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a> devotion, for it is as genuine as your beauty and as deep as -your genius. I adore you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Tuesday, 11.30 a.m., April 10th, 1838.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good-morning, my soul, my joy, my life. How are your adored eyes, my -Toto? I cannot refrain from asking, because it interests me to hear, -more than anything in the world. I am always thinking about them. I long -for the 15th of this month, for then I shall have the right to insist -upon your resting, and I shall certainly exercise it. My dear love, what -joy it will be for me to feel your dear head leaning against mine, to -kiss your beautiful eyes, and to make certain that you do not work. The -weather is lovely this morning. It carries my thoughts back to our dear -little annual trip, when we were so happy and so cosy together. We are -not to have that felicity this year, and really I do not know how I -shall endure it when the time comes at which we used to start. It will -be very hard and difficult, and I doubt whether my courage and reason -will suffice to enable me to bear the greatest sacrifice I have ever -made in my life. My dear one, it will be sad indeed; I wonder whether I -shall be equal to it.</p> - -<p>I love you, adore you, admire you, and again I love and adore you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Tuesday, 7.45 p.m., April 10th, 1838.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>My love, I am writing to you with joy and worship in my heart. You were -so kind and tender and fascinating to me to-day that I seemed to feel -again the savour and rapture of the days of old. My Toto,<a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a> my adored -one, fancy if your love were to flower again like some brilliant, -sweet-scented spring blossom! With what ecstasy and reverence I would -preserve it fresh and rosy in my breast. Poor beloved, your work has -done to our idyll what the winter does to the trees and flowers—the sap -has retired deep into the bottom of your heart, and often I have feared -it was quite dead; but now I see it was not: it was only lulled to sleep -and I shall possess my Toto once more, beautiful, blooming, and perfumed -as in those glorious days of our first love.</p> - -<p>I who am not a sensitive plant of the sun like you, have yet come better -through the trial, and if I bear no blossom, I have at least the -advantage of preserving my leaves ever green and alive; that is to say, -I have never ceased to love and adore you. Indeed that is true, my own, -I love you as much as the first day.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Sunday, 11 a.m., April 22nd, 1838.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>You see, darling, by the dimensions of my paper, that I am preparing to -go and applaud my <i>Marion</i> this evening. I will not reproach you for not -having come this morning. In fact, in future I shall not allude to it -again, for nothing is more unsuitable or ridiculous than the -solicitations of a woman who vainly appeals for the favours of her -lover. Therefore, beloved, as I am to live with you as a sister with a -brother, you will approve of my refraining from reminding you in any way -of the time when we were husband and wife.</p> - -<p>It is still very cold, my maid says; although the sun is shining in at -my windows, it has left its warmth<a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a> in the sky. It resembles the fine -phrases of a suitor who no longer loves; his words may be the same, his -expressions as tender, his language as impassioned, but love is lacking -and those words which scintillate as the sun upon my windows, fail to -warm the heart of the poor woman who had dreamt of love eternal.</p> - -<p>You will probably see Granier this morning.<a name="FNanchor_77_77" id="FNanchor_77_77"></a><a href="#Footnote_77_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a> I hope so, so that you -may not be worried any more about that business. I also hope Jourdain -will come to-morrow about the chimney. It is unbearable that one should -have to wait upon the whim of a workman for a job which might be -finished in a few minutes, and that would please you so much. I have -read with pleasure the verses that came to you in the newspaper from -Guadaloupe; they show that you are admired over there as much as here, -and that you have fewer enemies abroad than at the Académie Française. I -am furious with that little imp called Thiers, who although he is not a -quarter of a man as far as size goes, yet permits himself to cherish the -rancour of a giant. Miserable little wretch! If only I were not a woman, -I might castigate you as you deserve!</p> - -<p>And you, my Toto, so great and so wonderful, I adore you!</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 10.15 a.m., August 2nd, 1838.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good-morning, my little beloved. Do you still need a secretary? I am -quite ready. Come; it is<a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a> so delightful to dip my pen into your glorious -poetry, and watch the shining and coruscating of those precious gems -which take the shape of your thoughts. Dédé could not be more delighted -and dazzled than I am, if she were given the diamonds and jewels of the -crown of England to play with for an hour. Oh, if I could only have -spent the night with my Cæsar and his noble companions, I would have -followed him without fatigue wherever he wanted to go, even as far -as.... But you would not allow it, you jealous boy; you feared -comparison, and you were perfectly right, for I like well-dressed men. -Good-morning, my Toto. My left eye is very bad; it is swollen and -painful. If this continues I shall no longer be in the position of -regretting that I cannot lend you my eyes in exchange for your own. I -love you, I adore you. Do not be too long before coming to me.</p> - -<p>I am longing for you with all my might.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Wednesday, 9.45 p.m., August 15th, 1838.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>My dear little man, I love you. You are the treasure of my heart. I wish -we were already in our carriage galloping, galloping far, and farther -still, so that it might take us ever so long to get back.</p> - -<p>Since you have hinted at the possibility of my playing in your beautiful -piece,<a name="FNanchor_78_78" id="FNanchor_78_78"></a><a href="#Footnote_78_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a> I am like a somnambulist who has been made to drink too much -champagne. I see everything magnified: I see glory, happiness, love, -adoration, in gigantic and impossible<a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a> dimensions—impossible, because I -feel you can never love me as I love you, and that my talent, however -considerable, can never reach to the level of your sublime poetry. I do -not say this from modesty, but because I do not think there exists in -this world man or woman capable of interpreting the parts as you -conceived them in your master mind.</p> - -<p>I love you, my Toto, I adore you, my little man, you are my sun and my -life, my love and my soul.</p> - -<p>All that, and more.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Monday, 8 p.m., September.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Are you proposing to cut out all the dandies and bloods of the capital? -My congratulations to you. I was only waiting for some such sign to give -myself up to an orgy of wild and eccentric toilette. Heaven only knows -the extravagances I mean to commit in the way of shoes, silk stockings, -gowns, hats, light gloves, and bows for my hair! You will, I suppose, -retaliate with an assortment of skin-tight trousers, strings of orders, -and more or less absurd hair arrangements. Delightful indeed! There only -remains for one of us to live at the Barrière de l’Étoile and the other -at the Barrière du Trône, to dazzle the dwellers of the town and -suburbs, as well as strangers from abroad. Capital!!!</p> - -<p>My sore throat has come on again and you are not here to cure it. If you -think this pleasant you are quite wrong, and if I followed my own bent I -should deprive you of your functions as doctor-in-chief of the great -Juju. I am determined to forgive you only if you come to supper with me -presently. Seriously,<a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a> I cannot understand why you keep away, seeing -that your Play is in rehearsal, that this is our holiday time, and that -I adore you. I am almost tempted to be a little jealous, only -unfortunately, when I mean to be only slightly jealous, I become very -seriously so; therefore I try as much as possible to spare myself that -discomfort. You would be sweet and kind, my Toto, if you would come and -eat my frugal dinner with me to-night and ... I am going to concentrate -my thoughts upon you, so as to magnetise you and bring you back in the -shortest possible time to your faithful old Juju who loves and adores -you. My first proceeding is to kiss your eyes, your mouth, and your dear -little feet.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Tuesday, 12 noon, October 30th, 1838.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>My beloved little man, you are so good and sweet when you see me that it -is a pity you should see me so seldom, and that you should forget me as -soon as your back is turned. To punish you, I am not going to write you -two letters to-day; partly in consideration for your dear little eyes, -and partly because it would be unfair to reward indifference and -coldness in the same degree as affection and assiduity. Pray do not take -the above expression, “dear little eyes,” in an ironical sense—I mean -it on the contrary as an endearing diminutive; your “dear little eyes” -signify to me my adored, beautiful eyes, the mirrors of my soul, the -stars of my heaven, everything that is most beautiful and fascinating, -gentlest, noblest, and highest.</p> - -<p>I love you, my Toto. I kiss your ripe red lips,<a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a> your dazzling teeth, -your little hands, and your twinkling feet. I am writing only your -little daily bulletin, because your eyes are bad, and you have no time -to waste; neither do I wish to tire or bore you, but only to make you -love me a little bit.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 8.30 p.m., November 22nd, 1838.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>My little treasure of a man, you were sweet to select my hovel for a -resting-place from which to write your laudatory remarks upon Mlle. -Atala Beauchêne,<a name="FNanchor_79_79" id="FNanchor_79_79"></a><a href="#Footnote_79_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a> commonly called Beaudouin. It gave me a chance to -admire your charming profile and kiss your beautiful shining locks. I -thank you for that happiness, and I consent to your inditing daily -effusions concerning that lady, if only you do so in my room and under -my eyes.</p> - -<p>As you promised to come back presently, the chances are that you will -not return. I have half a mind to undress, light my fire, and set to -work to bruise poppy-heads; for my provision is almost at an end, and -later on I may be busy at the theatre, if Joly<a name="FNanchor_80_80" id="FNanchor_80_80"></a><a href="#Footnote_80_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a> persists in his crazy -idea of giving us a whole week’s rehearsals of a piece which is only to -be played four months hence. It is an inducement to use the time at my -disposal now, to prepare your little daily remedy.</p> - -<p>I love you, Victor, I love you, my darling Toto.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a></p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Monday, 6 p.m., April 15th, 1839.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Why is it, my little beloved, that you always seem so jealous? You take -the bloom off all those scraps of happiness your dear presence would -otherwise give me, for nothing chills one’s embraces so much as the -vexed, uneasy mien you usually wear. It would not even be so bad if you -did not accuse <i>me</i> of that same constrained, annoyed look; but the more -suspicious you are, the more you think it is I who am cross, although -this is simply the effect of the glasses through which your jealousy -views me. Never mind, I love you and forgive you, and if only you will -come and take me out a little this evening and show me part of <i>Lucrèce</i> -I shall be happy and content. What a beautiful day! I would have given -days and even months for the chance of strolling by your side wherever -your rêverie led you. Alas, it is I who am sad, and with excellent -reason! As for you, you old lunatic, what have you to complain of? You -are adored, and you are free to accept and make use of that sentiment as -much and as often as you desire; perhaps that is why you desire it so -seldom.... But let us talk of other things. Please love me a little, -while I give you my whole soul.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Sunday, 6.30 p.m., October 27th, 1839.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Here I am at my scribbling again, my Toto. It is a sad pleasure, if any, -after the two months of love and intimacy which have just elapsed. Here -I sit again with my ink and paper, my faults of spelling, my stupidity -and my love. When we were travelling I did not need all this -paraphernalia to be happy.<a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a> It was enough for me to worship you, and God -knows whether I did that! Here I do not love you less—on the -contrary—but I live far from you, I long for you, I worry about you, I -am unhappy—that is all. Still, I am not ungrateful or forgetful; I -fully appreciate that you have just given me nearly two months of bliss. -I still feel upon my lips the touch of your kisses, and upon my hand the -pressure of yours. But the felicity I have experienced only throws into -greater relief the void your absence leaves in my life. When you are no -longer by my side, I cease to exist, to think, to hope. I desire you and -I suffer. Therefore I dread as much as death itself the return to that -hideous Paris, where there is naught for lovers who love as we -love—neither sunshine, nor that confidence which is the sunshine of -love—nothing but rain, suspicion, jealousy, the three blackest, -saddest, iciest of the scourges which can afflict body and heart. Oh, I -am wretched, my Toto, in proportion to my love; it is true, my adored -one, and it will ever be thus, when you are not with me.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Friday, 10 a.m., November 1st, 1839.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good-morning, my dear little beloved, my darling little man. You told me -so definitely yesterday that my handwriting was hideous, and my scrawl -nothing but a horrible maze in which you lose both patience and love, -that I hardly dare write to you to-day, and it would take very little to -make me cease our correspondence altogether. We must have an explanation -on this subject, for it is cruel of you to force me to make myself -ridiculous night and morning, simply<a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a> because I love you and am the -saddest and loneliest of women. If my love must be drowned in my -ignorance and stupidity, at least do not force me to make the plunge -myself. There was a time when you would not have noticed the ugliness of -my writing; you would only have read my meaning and been happy and -grateful. Now you laugh, which is shabby and wicked of you. This seems -to be the fate of all the Quasimodo of this world, moral and physical; -they are jeered at: form is everything, spirit nothing. Even if I could -constrain my crabbed scrawl to say, “My soul is beautiful,” you would -not be any the less amused. Therefore, my dear little man, pending the -moment when I can join in the laugh against myself, I think it would be -as well to suspend these daily lucubrations. Besides, the moment has -come when I must turn all my time and energies towards making my -position secure. Nothing in this world can turn me from my purpose, for -it is to me a question of life and death, and Heaven knows that in all -these seven years I have never failed to tell you so whenever there has -been an opportunity. I count upon you to help me, my beloved. I am -asking you for more than life—for the moral consummation of our -marriage of love. Let me go with you wherever my happiness is -threatened, let me be the wife of your mind and heart, if I cannot be -yours in law. If I express myself badly, do not scoff, but understand -that I have a right to put into words what you yourself have felt, and -that I insist upon defending my own against all those women who get at -you under pretext of serving you. I will have my turn, for I love you -and am jealous.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Friday, 6.30 p.m., November 1st, 1839.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>You are good, my adored one, and I am a wretch; but I love you while you -only permit yourself to be loved; that is what makes you so tranquil and -me so bitter. My heart is weighed down by jealousy this evening and -nothing less than your adored presence will suffice to calm me, for I -carry hell and all the furies within my soul. I wish I could be sewn to -the lining of your coat to-night, for I feel I am about to encounter -some great danger that I can only defeat by not leaving your side. If my -fears are well-grounded, I shall probably fail in averting the doom that -threatens me, for you will not be able to stay with me all the evening. -The compliments and flattery you will receive will take you from me. I -cannot deny that I am unhappy and jealous, and would much rather be with -you at Fontainebleau, at the Hôtel de France, than in Box C. of the -Théâtre Français, even when <i>Marion de Lorme</i> is being played. Kiss me, -my little man; you are very sweet in your new greatcoat, but you had not -told me you had been to your tailor. I shall keep up with you by sending -for my dressmaker. I do not mean to surrender to you the palm for -smartness and dandyism. Ha! who is caught? Toto! Toto!</p> - -<p>Résilieux is beaming, Claire is happy, Suzanne is an idiot; such is the -condition of the household. I am all three at the same time, plus the -adoration I profess energetically for your imperial and sacred person. -Kiss me and be careful of yourself this evening.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Monday, 12 noon, November 4th, 1839.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good-morning, treasure. It is twelve by my clock, which is several hours -fast, but I have been up some little time. I have dressed my child, and -she is now practising on the piano. I spent the night thinking over what -you said, my adored one. One luminous phrase especially stands out and -scorches my soul. Perhaps you only said it idly as one of the -compliments one is constrained to make to the woman who loves one? I -know not, but I do know, that I have taken the assurance you gave me -that you have never really loved any woman but me, as a sacred thing, -unalterably true. I adore you and had never felt even the semblance of -love until I met you. I love and adore you, and shall love and adore you -for ever, for love is the essence of my body, my heart, my life, and my -soul. Believe this, my treasure, for it is God’s own truth. Your dread -of seeing me re-enter theatrical life will quickly be dissipated by the -probity and steadiness of my conduct. I hope, and am certain of this. -You have nothing to fear from me wherever I may be. I adore you, I -venerate you. If I could do as you wish and renounce the theatre, that -is to say my sole chance of securing my future, I would do so without -hesitation and without your having to urge it, simply to please you. -But, my beloved, I feel that it were easier to relinquish life itself -than the hope of paying my creditors and making myself independent by -earning my own living. If I were to make this sacrifice I am sure my -despair would bring about some irreparable catastrophe that would weigh -upon you all your days.</p> - -<p>My adored one, do not try to turn me from the only thing that can bring -me peace and make me believe<a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a> in your love. Help me and do not forsake -me unless I give you just cause to do so. Spend your whole life in -loving me, in exchange for my unswerving loyalty and adoration.</p> - -<p>Kiss me, my little man.</p> - -<p>I love you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Friday, 4.45 p.m., November 15th, 1839.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I wrote the date and hour on this half-sheet of paper, thinking it was -blank. I explain this, in order that your suspicious mind may not again -draw a flood of insulting deductions from a thing that has happened so -simply and naturally. You upset me just now when you said good-bye, -because you said cruel things. It was a bad moment to choose. Your -manner to me is enough to discourage an angel, and I have begun to ask -myself whether it is possible to love a woman one does not esteem. If -you esteemed me you would not for ever suspect my words, my silence, my -actions, my conduct; if you loved me you would know how to appreciate my -honesty and fidelity, whereas even in the tenderest moments of our most -intimate communion, you never fail to say something cruel and -disheartening. I often say one might almost imagine you were under a -promise to someone to tire out my love by inflicting pain upon me on -every occasion; but I hope you will never succeed in doing this.</p> - -<p>I suffer, I despair at heart, but I love you so far, and I hope for both -our sakes that I always shall. I cling to my love even more than to your -esteem, for the latter is a poor blind thing that cannot distinguish<a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a> -night from day, candle-light from sunshine, or an honest woman from a -harlot.</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp208_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp208_sml.jpg" width="460" height="259" alt="THE BRIDGE OF MARNE. - -Drawing by Victor Hugo (Victor Hugo Museum)." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">THE BRIDGE OF MARNE. - -Drawing by Victor Hugo (Victor Hugo Museum).</span> -</p> - -<p>My love is more clear-sighted. It was attracted at once by your physical -and spiritual perfection, and has never confused you with any other of -the human species. I love you, Toto. Torment me, drive me to desperation -if you will, but you shall never succeed in diminishing my affection. My -head aches, little man, and the thoughts that fill it at this moment are -not calculated to cure its pain. I press my hand upon my brow to crush -thought, and I open my heart to all that is good and tender in my love -for you. Good-bye, Toto. I adore you. Good-bye. We were very happy this -morning; let us try to be so again very soon.</p> - -<p>In the meantime I adore you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Wednesday, 8.45, November 20th, 1839.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I am in despair. I wish I were dead and everything at an end! The more -precautions I take, the more I purge my life, the less happiness I -achieve. It is as if I were accursed, and I often feel a wild desire to -behave as if I were, and crush my love underfoot. I am so unhappy that I -lose all courage and hope for the future. You were very good to me when -you were going away, but that does not prove that when you come back -presently you may not be the most offensive and unjust of men. I -sacrifice to you one by one all my actions, even the most insignificant; -I am careful inwardly and outwardly to cause you no sort of offence, and -yet I am unsuccessful! My struggles only fatigue and dishearten me. On -the eve of taking<a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a> the great step which would bind us to each other even -closer than we already are, would it not be better for us to break off -our relations, and put a stop to the whole thing instead? I can -understand now the generosity of Didier, who elects to die upon the -scaffold forgiving Marion with his last breath, rather than live -persecuting and torturing her with the recollection of her past, and -with suspicions a thousand times more painful than death and oblivion. -Ah, yes, I can understand a Didier like that.... I suffer! Ah, God, -people who do not love are very fortunate! I love you, and I know that -failing some violent remedy I shall continue to suffer and care for you. -I admit that all these things I write are absurd, and that it would be -wiser to throw this letter into the fire, and keep to myself the -thousand and one follies inspired by my despair.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Monday, 5.30 p.m., December 16th, 1839.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>You did well, my adored one, to come back after the painful incident we -had just gone through. If you had not, I should have been wretched all -the evening. Thank you, my beloved Toto, thank you, my love. You looked -very preoccupied, my treasure, when you came up the first time. I -gathered that Guirault’s letter had something to do with this, and that -you were meditating your answer. Beyond that, I did not take much -notice, for I was too furious with you to be able to think of anything.</p> - -<p>If you knew how much I love you, and how faithful I am to you, my adored -one, you would be less suspicious. Suspicion is an insult that makes me -frantic,<a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a> because, it proves to me that you do not believe in either my -honesty or my love. Jealousy is another thing: one can be jealous of a -face or of a person, because however sure one may be of one’s own -superiority, one may still fear that some beast or monster may be -preferred to oneself; but jealousy, I repeat, is different from -everlasting suspicion of one’s actions and even of one’s negative -conduct and inaction. Finally, I differentiate between jealousy and -suspicion; I feel there is a great gulf between my jealousy and yours, -and yet I love you more than you love me—you cannot gainsay that—if -you admit it, I will pardon all your misdeeds and adore you and kiss -your dear little feet. <i>Hurrah! I am to have my wardrobe! Hurrah!</i></p> - -<p>You will not be an Academician, but you will always be my dear little -lover.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 5 p.m., January 16th, 1840.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I love you, my Toto, and am sad at seeing you so seldom. But I know how -much you have to do, my little man, so am not angry with you—still that -does not prevent me from being horribly sad.</p> - -<p>Money melts in my pocket. I was reading yesterday a description of -Monsieur de Sévigné, the son, which applies wonderfully to me. “He had -no hobbies, did not entertain, gave no presents, wore plain attire, -gambled not at all, had only one servant and not a single horse on which -to ride out with the King or the Dauphin; yet his hand was like a -crucible wherein gold is melted.” I am rather like that. I do not give -many presents, I wear the same dress for a year<a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a> at a time, I only do -expensive cooking when you are coming to dine with me, I have only one -servant, and yet money disappears in my establishment like snow under -the rays of the sun. With me, it is not my hand that is the crucible, -but my past life, which is like an abyss that all the money in the world -would find it difficult to fill. That is why I am sad. Love me, my Toto, -and above all do not kill yourself with working for everybody as you do -without respite. I can sell something I do not want, whereas your health -and repose are indispensable to my welfare and tranquillity. Remember -that, my dear one, and do not be over scrupulous at the expense of the -real consideration which makes my happiness. When shall I see you again, -treasure?</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Sunday, 1.15 p.m., March 22nd, 1840.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good-morning, my beloved Toto. I read the manuscript of “Didine” over -again last night, and I shed all the tears I had restrained in your -presence. I am more convinced than ever that you committed an act of -unfaithfulness against our love when you composed those lines. I do not -see how you can hope to persuade me to the contrary, or wonder that I am -wounded to the quick by such a mental and spiritual lapse. Jealousy is -not excited only by infidelities of the senses, but primarily by such an -infidelity as that which you have committed in writing these verses and -concentrating your gaze and your thoughts upon that young girl, while my -whole heart and soul were raised in prayer for you in that church at -Strasbourg. I will never go back there, either to<a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a> the church or to the -town. There is an end of that. Would to God we had never gone there at -all! I should have preserved one illusion more, and suffered one sorrow -less. Well, well, it is not your fault. You wished to carry away the -memory of that woman, as you could not possess her person, and you have -written some very beautiful lines which prove, in the same degree as my -pain, what a profound and striking impression she produced upon you. I -hope you may never experience a jealousy so well-justified as mine about -any woman you may love in the future; for myself I desire a speedy -recovery from the most miserable infatuation in all this world.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Monday, 6.45 p.m., June 1st, 1840.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I am writing to you in the company of Résilieux, my love, but that does -not restore to me the gaiety I have lost since this morning. That woman -and her persistence annoy me more than I can say. When I think of the -close confinement in which I live and realise the depth and devotion of -the love I bear you, I am indignant to the bottom of my heart that a -wretched woman of the street should dare to cast the eye of envy upon a -passion which constitutes the religion and adoration of my whole life. -If I listened to my own inclination, I should make a terrible example of -the hussy and her low caprice, and no other would venture an attempt to -capture your affections for many a long day. I am wretched since this -morning. I think myself plain, old, stupid, badly dressed—and all -because I tremble for the safety of my love, because I am afraid for my -poor little slice<a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a> of happiness. Alas! alas! my Toto, I care too much -for you; it is crazy of me. I did so hope that when your family was -settled in the country, you would sometimes come and take me out with -you—but, on the contrary, in a whole month I have only been out once -with you; for I do not count those two evenings at the theatre, when I -drove there and back in a carriage. It would be a cruel jest if you -considered those as going out with you. I am not well. I have rushes of -blood to the head and heart, but you do not care. I shall not do my -monthly accounts to-night; my head aches too badly. Perhaps I may try -to-morrow. The laundress has been here and I have paid her; I shall -probably get the grocer’s bill to-morrow, but I shall certainly not pay -it unless you have plundered some passer-by to-night. Meanwhile, I love -you, my Toto. Dinner has just been announced; I shall not be as happy as -yesterday, for you are not dining with me; but perhaps as I am alone I -shall be able to ruminate over my good fortune, for I was hardly able to -realise it at all yesterday with all those females about.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>January 7th, 9.30 a.m., 1841.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good-morning, my darling Toto, to whom I dare not yet give his -prospective title, for I am very doubtful of the integrity of old -Dupaty. I hope you will not keep me waiting too long for the result of -the rabid voting of the opposing parties.<a name="FNanchor_81_81" id="FNanchor_81_81"></a><a href="#Footnote_81_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a> The contest<a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a> becomes more -and more curious and interesting. I wish it were already four o’clock.</p> - -<p>The weather is not very propitious for that moribund scoundrel. It would -be difficult to let him down through the window, and still more so to -transport him to the place where we do not wish him to be. If the -computation is correct, the mortal illness of the old wretch should give -you the place by a majority of one vote at the first scrutiny; but what -about a black-ball? Perhaps this time it will come from the ignoble -creature who walks under the filthy, greasy, hideous hat of that beast -Dupaty. I wish we were already at this afternoon, that I might know what -the foul old man has dared to do. Until then I shall look at my clock -many and many a time. Try, my love, to come at once and tell me the -result whatever it may be. I shall at least have the pleasure of seeing -you, which will add to the joy of your nomination or console you for -your defeat.</p> - -<p>By the way, you were so shabby last night that one might suppose you -were preparing to contest the palm of bad dressing with that old -pickpocket Dupaty. I shall forgive you your untidiness if you are -successful. I love you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 6 p.m., January 7th, 1841.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I am enchanted for everybody’s sake, my dear Academician, that at last -you are elected. There you are at last, thanks to the seventeen votes of -your friends, and in spite of your fifteen adversaries. You are an -Academician. Hurrah!</p> - -<p>I wish I could have witnessed with my own eyes<a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a> the grimaces of all -those contemptible old things, and heard the profession of faith of that -horrible Dupaty; you ought to indemnify me by showing me your own -beautiful countenance for a little more than a paltry five minutes as -you did just now. I love you, Toto, as much as the first day and more -than ever. But, alas, I dare not believe the same of you, for I do not -see much proof of it, as my maid would say. The fact is that whether as -an Academician, or a candidate, or nothing at all, I hardly see you more -than an hour a day. This is neither novel nor consoling; it becomes more -and more sad and painful. Think of that, my love, and come very soon -after you have read my letter.</p> - -<p>I love you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Sunday, 10.45 a.m., April 11th, 1841.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, my beloved Toto, my adored little man. How are you, my -darling? I am afraid you may have tired yourself last night reading your -splendid speech to me. Poor beloved, it would be a calamity that my -pleasure should cost you so dear; it would be unjust and cruel. I hope -it is not so, my adored one, and that you have not been punished for -your kindness.</p> - -<p>What a magnificent address! and how stupid it is of me only to -appreciate it inwardly, and to be incapable of expressing my feelings -better than by inarticulate grunts. It is not my fault, yet since I have -learned to love you I have not been able to resign myself to my -limitations. Every time the opportunity presents itself to admire you I -am furious<a name="page_217" id="page_217"></a> with myself and should like to slap and kick myself—though -my poor body would have no time to recover between the assaults, for -every single thing you say and do is as admirable and striking as your -written works. So I should be kept busy. Fortunately you do not object -to my want of intellect; you realise the quality and proportions of my -love. All my intelligence and being have turned to spirit, to idolise -you. I may be only a goose outwardly, but inwardly I am sublime with -devotion. Which is best? I cannot tell, it is for you to decide. -Meanwhile I am the most fortunate of women to have heard the beginning -of your beautiful speech, and I love you with all my strength.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 4.30 a.m., June 3rd, 1841.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, my adored little man, my beloved <i>Monsieur l’Académicien</i>! -How are you, my Toto? I am very much afraid you will be horribly tired -before this afternoon, poor treasure!<a name="FNanchor_82_82" id="FNanchor_82_82"></a><a href="#Footnote_82_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a> I think you should have had -the speech printed a day earlier, and have kept this night free for -resting.</p> - -<p>I really do not know how you will manage to deliver your address after -these several days of grinding fatigue, and a night spent in correcting -the proofs at the printing-works. Nobody but you can accomplish these -feats of endurance. Still, my beloved, it is time you changed a mode of -living which must kill you in the long run. I hope you are going to -spend the remaining few hours in your bed.<a name="page_218" id="page_218"></a></p> - -<p>I already feel as agitated as if I were going to make the speech myself. -I shall be in a desperate state of mind until you have finished and -Salvandy begins to speak. I shall have this fearful lump on my chest -until then.</p> - -<p>Whatever happens I adore you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>June 3rd, 5.30 p.m., 1841.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Where shall I begin, my love? At your divine feet or your celestial -brow? What shall I express first? My admiration? Or the adoration that -overflows my heart like your sublime genius surpasses the mediocre -creatures who listened to you without understanding, and gazed at you -without falling upon their knees! Ah, let me mingle those two sentiments -that dazzle my brain and burn up my heart. I love you! I admire you! I -adore you! You are truly splendid, noble, and sublime, my poet, my -beloved, light of my eyes, flame of my heart, life of my life! Poor -adored beloved; when I saw you enter, so pale and shaken, I felt myself -swooning, and but for the support of Madame Démousseaux and Madame -Pierceau, I should have fallen to the floor. Happily nobody noticed my -emotion, and when I came to myself and saw your sweet smile answering -mine and encouraging me, I felt as if I were awaking from a long, -painful dream, though only a second of time had elapsed.</p> - -<p>Thank you, my adored one, for sparing a thought to the poor woman who -loves you, at that solemn moment—I should have said, that supreme -moment, if the assemblage had not consisted for the greater part of -tiresome blockheads and vile scoundrels.<a name="page_219" id="page_219"></a></p> - -<p>Thank you, my good angel, my sublime Victor, my illustrious <i>child</i>. I -saw all your dear little family;<a name="FNanchor_83_83" id="FNanchor_83_83"></a><a href="#Footnote_83_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a> lovely Didine, charming Charlot, -and dear little Toto who looked pale and delicate. I kissed them all in -spirit as I did their divine father.</p> - -<p>I love you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 2.30 p.m., July 8th, 1841.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>While you are lording it at the Académie<a name="FNanchor_84_84" id="FNanchor_84_84"></a><a href="#Footnote_84_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a> I am weeping and suffering -at home. You might have spared me this pain by inviting me to attend the -sitting, or else staying away yourself. I must warn you, my Toto, that -this sort of sacrifice and torment is unendurable, and if it happens -again I do not know what I may do rather than resign myself to it.</p> - -<p>We are not living in the East, and you have not <i>bought</i> me, thank -Heaven! I am free to cast off the yoke of proceedings which are neither -just, nor kind, nor affectionate. I swear by all I hold most sacred in -this world, namely my love, that I will not submit a third time to be -thus flouted. If you knew how furious and miserable I am feeling at this -moment of writing, you would not venture to inflict a third trial of the -kind upon me. In any case pray keep my letter as a <i>definite -announcement</i> of what I am capable of doing if you are so cruel as to -persist in your present line of conduct. Meanwhile I am doing my best to -avoid taking any definitely fatal step, but I warn<a name="page_220" id="page_220"></a> you that I cannot -much longer remain mistress of myself.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>1 a.m.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Hell in my heart at noon, Paradise at midnight, my Toto. I love you and -have full confidence in you.</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Friday, 7.45 p.m., November 19th, 1841.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">I have it! hurrah!!</span> Fancy, it has been here all the morning, yet nothing -warned me! My heart did not beat faster than usual, the earth did not -tremble, the skies did not fall, in fact everything remained in its -humdrum, normal condition, as if nothing unusual had happened—and it -was here all the time! I possessed it in my room, under my eyes! Verily -it can hardly be credited, and if anybody but myself said so I should -not believe it. But what you must believe, my love, for indeed it is -true, is that I love you and that you are the kindest, most charming, -best, handsomest, most generous, most noble, and most adored of men. -That is what you have got to believe, because it is God’s own truth. The -cabinet is fascinating, but what is still nicer is the way you gave it -to me. “The manner of the gift is better than the gift itself,” was once -said by some one whose name I have forgotten. When you are the donor, -the proverb is still more applicable. If you had all the treasures of -the universe to bestow, you would do it with a grace that would enhance -the value of the<a name="page_221" id="page_221"></a> gift a thousandfold. As for me I am mad with delight, -for I believe you love me. I may tell you now that last night I cried -helplessly at the thought of how much younger and handsomer you are than -I. I anticipated the moment when you will no longer be able to love me, -and my heart contracted so that I should have suffocated without the -relief of tears. I feel I shall certainly die the day you cease to care -for me, and I know that no other woman can ever worship you as I do. But -I trust that day will never dawn, will it, my angel? There are no -wrinkles in the heart, and you will see my face only in the reflection -of your attachment, eh, Victor, my beloved? The while I wept and -mourned, you were thinking of me, my poor sweet, and bringing me the -cabinet. We were both performing an act of love, mine gloomy, yours, -charming and considerate like everything you do. I hope your present -will bring us both happiness, and that you will adore me as long as I -shall admire my dear little cabinet—that is, for ever.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">I have it! what happiness</span>! I should like to put it in the middle of the -room on a golden table, or in my bed, or carry it in my arms, on my -heart, anywhere in fact where it could be seen and touched. Meanwhile I -will give it a good cleaning to-morrow. It is rather too late to-night. -I must do some copying, and dine, and send you back the scribble you -entrusted to me yesterday, so I will put off till to-morrow—principally -because I shall have a better light then. I will clean it in bed, drawer -by drawer. It will be a delightful occupation.</p> - -<p>I love you, I love you, Toto, I kiss you and adore you, Toto.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_222" id="page_222"></a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Wednesday evening, 6.30, February 9th, 1842.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Do you really want me to write Toto, even when my heart is breaking, and -my soul brimful of discouragement? I obey, but if you would only listen -to me, you would allow me to discontinue these daily scrawls, which have -never served any purpose but that of betraying the measure of my -stupidity and making you tire of a love become absurd by dint of -reiteration. I feel you only insist out of kindness, but it seems futile -to continue this childish babble, which deceives neither you nor me, and -gives me no indication of what is passing in your mind. It would be -better, my beloved, to inure me gradually to a catastrophe which may be -nearer than I guess, than to make efforts to leave me an illusion which -neither of us really shares nowadays. A sad ending to all our past -happiness! God grant it may not be altogether buried. This does not -prevent me from doing you full justice, my friend. You are kind with a -kindness full of pity and divine indulgence, but you no longer cherish -for me the love of a man for a woman. Do not pretend otherwise, for you -cannot delude me. I bear you no grudge my Victor, neither should you -bear me any, for it is no more your fault than mine, that you do not -love me while I still love you—not our fault, but God’s, Who -distributes unequally the amount of love we may each expend during our -lives. Happy he or she to whom the smaller sum is apportioned—so much -the worse for him or her whose heart is inexhaustible. Now, my beloved -Toto, I will torment you no longer. I will even try to make myself -agreeable, though, alas, what woman can be agreeable when she is no -longer loved! But I shall do my best, and that, coupled<a name="page_223" id="page_223"></a> with your -natural generosity, may still retard for a few days the greatest -misfortune of my life. Fear nothing from me, my Victor. You have to-day -received the last expression of my choler. One may strike, and even -kill, while one feels oneself beloved, but one must spare the man who no -longer cherishes one.</p> - -<p>You see, my Victor, that you have nothing to be afraid of, but I beseech -you to let me off these daily scribbles about things that have neither -point nor reason.</p> - -<p>I demand this of your goodness.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 2.30 p.m., February 10th, 1842.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>My beloved, my adored Victor, thank you! You remove hell from my heart, -and replace it with paradise. Thank you! My life, my spirit, my soul, -bless and adore you. What a letter, my God! I wanted to read it -kneeling; happy tears poured down my cheeks. You love me, my dear one! -It must be true, for you declare it in the loveliest, sweetest language -of the whole world. You love me although I am ill-tempered, violent, -stupid; you love me my good angel, because you know that your love is -the breath of life to me, and that without it I could no longer exist. I -also love you, but only God and myself know how deeply. Yesterday when -you left me, I was on my knees praying and kissing with tears the -footsteps I could hear fading away in the street. I could have flung -myself out of the window and died at your feet. My despair, then, was as -poignant as the bliss I felt just now when I read your adored letter.<a name="page_224" id="page_224"></a> -My Victor, my love, my life, my joy, I love you more than ever! I -implore your forgiveness, I throw myself at your feet and embrace them. -Thank you, my treasure. You must be very happy, for you have done a -lovely thing in writing me the most charming, the kindest, the most -wonderful and most adorable letter that ever issued from your heart.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 9.30, April 30th, 1842.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, my adored Toto. How did the little invalid sleep last -night? As for you, I do not even ask, my poor dear, for I know you spend -all your nights working. I love you, my poor angel. I do not know what -else to say, because that is the only thought in my heart and soul; to -love you always and for ever. Here comes the bright sunshine that is -going to cure our poor little man at once.<a name="FNanchor_85_85" id="FNanchor_85_85"></a><a href="#Footnote_85_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a> I have not seen a finer -spring since the one we spent strolling about the heights of Montmartre -together. I cannot think of it without tears of regret for the days that -are gone, and of gratitude to Providence for those few moments of most -perfect felicity. I would give half my life to have it again, my beloved -Toto; and it depends only upon you—if you wished it, we could easily -recover the happiness of those days. Why do you no longer desire it? I -know you have to work, but so you did then—<i>Claude Gueux</i>, <i>Philosophie -Mêlée</i>, <i>Les Voix Intérieures</i>, <i>Les Chants du Crépuscule</i>, <i>Angélo</i>, -<i>Les Rayons et Les Ombres</i> and <i>Ruy Blas</i>, are there to prove it. In -those days you loved me better than you do at present. Alas, I love you -more than<a name="page_225" id="page_225"></a> ever, or rather, as much as the first day!—that is, with -all my soul.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp224_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp224_sml.jpg" width="294" height="442" alt="A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET. - -The original belongs to M. Louis Barthou." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET.<br /> -The original belongs to M. Louis Barthou.</span> -</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Saturday, 6.30 p.m., August 20th, 1842.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I am a strange creature—at least you think so, do you not, beloved? But -what you take for eccentricity, caprice, bad-temper, is really love, but -an unhappy love, mistrustful and anxious. Everything is to me a subject -of dread almost amounting to despair. Thus this visit to the Duchesse -d’Orléans, whither I quite admit you were kind enough to take me, was -simply a torment on account of the hour and the circumstances: I, badly -dressed, barely clean, and that woman under the prestige of a great -sorrow<a name="FNanchor_86_86" id="FNanchor_86_86"></a><a href="#Footnote_86_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a> which, next to physical beauty, is the surest way to your -heart. I frankly confess that however gallant my love may be, and -whatever reliance I may place upon your loyalty, I am not easy when I -have to fight and struggle without weapons. This result of a <i>surprise</i> -and a hurried rush through Paris in a cab may seem excessive to you, and -verging on hysteria; but the fact is, my adored one, that my love, so -long repressed, is verily degenerating into a disease, almost into -frenzy. Everything hurts me. I am afraid of everything. I am a poor -thing needing much compassion for loving you so. If these incoherent -expressions do not force upon you the realisation of the depth of my -devotion, it must be that you no longer care for me, or indeed have -never done so; but if on the contrary you do understand, you will<a name="page_226" id="page_226"></a> pity -and pardon me, and love me all the better, and I am the happiest of -women.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>February 14th, 11.15 a.m., 1843.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning beloved Toto, good morning adored one. I love you. When I -heard you describing last night the impression produced upon you by the -rehearsal of <i>Lucrèce</i> and more especially by the singing of the guests, -I seemed to feel it all myself. The fact that my love has not grown a -day older, that my admiration is still on the increase, that I think you -as handsome and as young as ever, makes it easier for me to go back to -the feelings of those days. Looking into my heart, I seem to feel that -all this adulation and joy and feast of glory and love began yesterday. -Alas, those ten years have left traces only upon my poor countenance, -and have been as harsh to it as they have been indulgent to your -charming features.</p> - -<p>I express this somewhat crudely, as I always manage to do, but it is not -my fault, my love, nor any one else’s. I love you. Therein consist my -intelligence, my wit, my superiority; beyond that I am as stupid as any -other animal.</p> - -<p>You must be very busy to-day with the two rehearsals,<a name="FNanchor_87_87" id="FNanchor_87_87"></a><a href="#Footnote_87_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a> and the -Maxime<a name="FNanchor_88_88" id="FNanchor_88_88"></a><a href="#Footnote_88_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a> worry which falls upon your devoted head, not to speak of the -<i>great business</i>! I dare not expect you to-night till very late. Well,<a name="page_227" id="page_227"></a> -my dearly beloved, I know you do not belong to me, so I will resign -myself as cheerfully as may be, and put a good face upon your absence. -Try to think of me, my dear little man; that is all I venture to ask at -this moment. As for me, there is no more merit in thinking of you and -loving you than in breathing.</p> - -<p>I love you, Toto, as much as life.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Wednesday, 4.30 p.m., September 13th, 1843.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Where are you? What are you about, my adored one?<a name="FNanchor_89_89" id="FNanchor_89_89"></a><a href="#Footnote_89_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a> In what condition -is your family? What state are you in yourself? what will happen to us -all in our despair, if God be not merciful to us! Since you left me I -can think only of your arrival at home. I imagine the scene: the -despairing sobs of your children, the expression of your own frightful -grief, so long and sternly repressed. All those tears and sufferings -fall back upon my heart and rend it. I cannot bear more. My poor head is -on fire and my hands burn like live coals. I want to pray and cannot; -all my faculties, all my being, turn to you. I would give my life to -spare you a single pang. I would have sacrificed myself in this world, -and the next to save your adored child. My God, what will become of me -if you stay away much longer, when I have refrained with such difficulty -from sending to get news of you? I have begged Madame Lanvin to come to -me this afternoon and bring her husband,<a name="page_228" id="page_228"></a> so that if, as I fear, I have -not seen you before then, he can go and ask for news of you under the -name of Monsieur St. Hilaire. My heart aches, my poor treasure, when I -think of all you are enduring. I feel I cannot much longer bear not -seeing you. I shall commit some act of folly if you do not come to my -assistance. I exhausted my strength and courage on that awful journey, -and during last night and to-day. I have none left now to endure your -absence. I picture to myself your wife ill, and you also; in fact, I am -like a mad thing in the extremity of my anxiety and grief. I am trying -to occupy myself mechanically, in order to bring nearer the moment when -I shall see you, but my efforts only make every minute of waiting seem -like a century, and all the fears my heart anticipates, become frightful -realities against which I cannot struggle. My adored Victor, whatever be -your despair, mine is greater still; for I feel it through my love, -which makes it a hundred times worse and multiplies it beyond all human -calculation. Never has man been so idolised by woman as you are by me, -and the poor angel we mourn knows it and sees it now, as God knows and -sees it, and she will forgive, as He does, I am certain. I think of her, -poor beloved, as an angel of heaven. To her I shall direct my prayers, -that she may give you the strength and courage you need. To her also I -shall address myself in the hour of death, that the good God may take me -with all of you into His Paradise.</p> - -<p>My adored Victor, it is more than five o’clock, and you have not yet -come. What shall I do! What can I think, or rather what am I to fear? We -are in a terrible cycle of misfortune, and God only knows<a name="page_229" id="page_229"></a> when it will -end. My Victor, before giving way to despair, think of mine, remember -that I love you more than life.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Sunday, 5.45 p.m., October 8th, 1843.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I have been working all the morning my beloved, or rather scribbling on -paper—only to please you, for I doubt whether my labour will be of any -use to you; still, I am trying hard, and if I cannot do <i>better</i>, I am -doing <i>my</i> best. I cannot do more. I am trying more especially to forget -no detail, which makes me occasionally note down trivialities, little -futile, insignificant things. My search among our memories is like the -botanising of a child who is as apt to collect couch grass as the more -useful and rarer plants. However, I am doing my best, and better still, -I am obeying you. Would you believe that, although I have been writing -the whole day, I have not yet reached <i>Auch</i>.<a name="FNanchor_90_90" id="FNanchor_90_90"></a><a href="#Footnote_90_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a> My mind and pen rather -resemble the fantastic equipage we drove thither, but there is less risk -in the present venture. The worst that can happen is that we should -tumble promiscuously into a muck heap of absurdities and nonsense which -leave no bruises, whereas we risked our necks several times in the -course of the thirty-three miles between Tarbes and Auch.</p> - -<p>I should love to see you, my Toto. The day, though filled with joyous -recollections of our journey, has seemed long and sad to me. Nothing can -take the place of one of your embraces. The remembrance of the greatest -happiness cannot weigh against one<a name="page_230" id="page_230"></a> glance from you. I realise it more -to-day than ever before; therefore, do try and come, my beloved Toto. It -will give me courage and patience to get through the evening. I love you -too much, you see, but I cannot help it; it is no fault of mine.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Sunday, 7.15 p.m., November, 1843.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I think of you my beloved, I desire you, I love you. Ah yes, I love you -my adored Toto, you may be sure of it, for it is God’s truth. My little -Claire and I talk of you and nothing but you. We love you and bless you. -The poor little child will not be with me much longer, and I can already -see her poor little face wrinkling up with sorrow; but I try to be -cheerful and to remind her of the fortnight’s holiday which will soon -come. We love the pictures of your dear little Toto, and his pretty -home. We gaze at them with eagerness and affection, we are all eyes and -heart. At this moment Claire is reading Ulric’s poems,<a name="FNanchor_91_91" id="FNanchor_91_91"></a><a href="#Footnote_91_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a> while I am -writing to my beloved Toto with a heart full of gratitude and devotion. -May the happiness you bestow upon me, be yours also, my love! May a just -pride sustain you, for you have saved two souls, the mother’s and the -daughter’s! I feel ineffable things I dare not express, for fear of -vulgarising them by the mere fact of putting them into words. Do not -delay long ere you come, my darling Toto. If you knew the joy and -radiance you diffuse in this house, you would indeed hasten your steps. -Alas, I am foolish, for have you not children of your own whom you must -also make glad! I am<a name="page_231" id="page_231"></a> envious of them, but not cruel enough to deprive -them of their bliss—only I beg of them to hurry with their enjoyment, -so that my turn may come.</p> - -<p>Did you give Dédé the sachet? Did Toto take back his quince jelly? -Meanwhile, I am giving Suzanne a whole evening to herself, and making my -little rogue read <i>Le Musée des Familles</i>. I should love to give you a -good kiss, but I know you will not come for it. You have not the sense -to do so.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Monday, 11.15 a.m., July 22nd, 1844.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning my beloved, my sweet, my darling little Toto. How are you? -Are you less sad and painfully pre-occupied than yesterday, my adored -one? Alas, it is unlikely ... your grief and sorrow are not of those -that time can soften. You have the painful faculty of feeling things far -more acutely than do other men. Genius does not only pertain to the -brain, it belongs above all to the heart. My poor dear one, I love you; -I suffer when you suffer; be merciful to us both, I implore you.</p> - -<p>My little Claire went away this morning. She was more resigned than -usual, for she has a holiday of three days in prospect, beginning next -Saturday. The poor little thing is very devoted to us; her sole -happiness is to be with us. She complains of not seeing you often -enough, and I back her up in that. You must try to give us at least one -evening out of the three she will spend at home. Verily I am not very -cheerful company for the poor child when I am alone with her. I am so -absorbed in my love that sometimes<a name="page_232" id="page_232"></a> I do not speak to her twice in the -day, however much I try to bring myself to do so.</p> - -<p>I have copied Méry’s verses, because I do not wish to deprive -Mademoiselle Dédé of his autograph. I can understand her setting store -by it, poor darling, so I shall make a point of returning it to her. -Only (and it is you I am addressing now) you must give me just as many -as you give her. You must not lose your good habits, my darling, for I -am sure it would bring us bad luck. Therefore you must bring me all your -letters as you used to do. I promise to divide them conscientiously with -dear little Dédé, and you know quite well that I am a woman of my word. -I adore you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 4.45 p.m., October 20th, 1844.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I have sent to Barbedienne, my adored one, but Suzanne has not yet -returned. I am writing to you meanwhile to make the time hang less -heavy. I hope to goodness I may be able to procure that lovely -medal!<a name="FNanchor_92_92" id="FNanchor_92_92"></a><a href="#Footnote_92_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a> Since I have glimpsed the chance of possessing it, I feel my -disappointment would be greater than I could bear, if I failed to get -it. Good God, how slowly that girl walks! Fancy having to trust to legs -like those on such an occasion! I could have gone there and back ten -times, since she went. May the devil fly away with her, or rather, -precipitate her right into the middle of my room with his cloven foot, -providing only that she brings the longed-for medal!<a name="page_233" id="page_233"></a></p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp232_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp232_sml.jpg" width="290" height="457" alt="JULIETTE DROUET IN 1846. - -Bust by Victor Vilain (Victor Hugo Museum)." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">JULIETTE DROUET IN 1846.<br /> -Bust by Victor Vilain (Victor Hugo Museum).</span> -</p> - -<p>Here she is! Ah! Victor, do not be angry! Victor, I am at your -feet—Victor, I will be reasonable for the whole of the rest of my life -if only you will let me add 15 fr. to the sum you promised me. Oh, -Victor, I have not time to wait for your answer and yet I fear to annoy -you. Ah, no, you are too kind to be angry with your poor Juju who loves -you with such absolute admiring, devoted love! You will look at her with -your gentle, ineffable smile, and say I was right—surely, yes, you -will. Three cheers for Toto! Juju is a clever woman ... at heart. Yes, -it is quite true and I am the happiest of women.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Tuesday, 9.30 a.m., September, 1845.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I have just been gardening, beloved. I am soaked with dew and all muddy, -but I have spent three hours thinking of you without any bitterness. My -eyes were as moist as my flowers, but I was not weeping. While I busied -myself with the garden, I reviewed in thought the lovely flowers of my -past happiness. I saw them again fresh and blooming as the first day, -and I felt close to you, separated only by a breath. As long as the -illusion lasted I was almost happy. I should have liked to pluck my soul -and send it to you as a nosegay. Perhaps what I am saying is silly, yet -it is the sort of nonsense that can only issue direct from the -tenderest, most passionate heart that ever lived. For nearly thirteen -years past, I have never once written to you without feeling my hand -tremble and my eyes fill. When I speak of you, no matter to whom, my -heart swells as if it would burst through my lips. When I am dead, I am -certain that the imprint of my love will be found on my heart. It is<a name="page_234" id="page_234"></a> -impossible to worship as I do without leaving some visible trace behind -when life is over.</p> - -<p>My beloved Victor, let your thoughts dwell with me, so that my days may -seem shorter and less dreary; and do try to surprise me by coming -to-night. Oh, how happy I shall be if you do that!</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, I love you more than I can say.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Saturday, 8 a.m., September 27th, 1845.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning my beloved, my soul, my life, my adored Victor. How are -you? I hope yesterday did not tire you too much. I forgot until you -reminded me that you have been forbidden to walk much, but I do trust it -did you no harm; did it, Victor darling? As for me I felt no fatigue, I -seemed to have wings. I should have liked to place my feet on all the -paths we traversed together eleven years ago, to kiss the very stones of -the roads and the leaves on the trees, and to pick all the flowers in -the woods, so keenly did I fancy they were the very same that watched us -pass together all those years ago. I gazed at you my adored Victor, and -in my eyes you were as young and handsome, nay handsomer even, than -eleven years ago. I looked into my heart and found it full of the same -ecstasy and adoration that animated it the first day I loved you. -Nothing was changed in us or about us. The same ardent, devoted, sad and -sweet affection in our hearts, the same autumn sun and sky above our -heads, the same picture in the same frame; nothing had changed in eleven -years. I would have given a decade of my life to stand alone for ten -minutes in that house that has sheltered our memories for so long. I -should like to have carried<a name="page_235" id="page_235"></a> away ashes from the fireplace, dust from -the floors. I should have liked to pray and weep, where once I prayed -and wept, to have died of love on the spot where once I accepted your -soul in a kiss. I had to exercise superhuman self-control not to -perpetrate some act of folly in the presence of that girl who showed us -so indifferently over a house I could have purchased at the price of -half the rest of my life. Fortunately, thanks to her profound ignorance -of our identity, she noticed nothing, and we were each able to bring -away a tiny relic of our former happiness. Mine must be buried with me -when I die.</p> - -<p>Beloved, did you work late last night? It was very imprudent of you if -you did, after the fatigue you underwent during the day. To-day, you -must be very careful and not walk much. I shall be extremely stern with -you. My antiquarian propensities shall not make me forget, like -yesterday, that you are still convalescent and must hardly walk at all. -And you will obey me, because little Totos must always obey little -Jujus, as you know.</p> - -<p>Kiss me, my adored Victor, and may God bless you for all the happiness -you give me.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Saturday, 9 p.m., May 2nd, 1846.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I cannot nerve myself to the realisation that I shall not see you this -evening my sweet adored beloved; yet it is all too true. This is the -first time in fourteen years that I have not slept in a room belonging -to you.<a name="FNanchor_93_93" id="FNanchor_93_93"></a><a href="#Footnote_93_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a> Consequently I am feeling quite forlorn.<a name="page_236" id="page_236"></a> Everything -conspires to harrow me. Just now when I left you I longed for death, and -the tears I drove from my eyes trickled inwardly to my sad heart. If -this anxiety about my child, and the separation from you, are to last -long, I do not think I shall have strength to endure them. I am vexed -and disgusted at the tone of those about me. I am ashamed and indignant -at my inability to remove myself from it, however I may try; then when I -remember you, so generous, so loyal, so noble, so kind and indulgent, my -bitterness evaporates and nothing remains in my heart but admiration, -gratitude, and love for your divine and fascinating self.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p>When I got back, I found my child in a raging fever. I gave her fresh -compresses, and now she is sleeping. God grant she may do so all night, -and that the change of ideas and surroundings and air may have a good -effect upon her health. I shall in that case have less cause to grudge -the sacrifices I am voluntarily making to that end. Meanwhile, I am a -prey to fearful anxiety, and am suffering the uttermost from the absence -of what I love best in this world, above life, above duty, above -everything. Good-night, beloved. Think of me. Sleep well, and love me.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Tuesday, 3.45 p.m., 1846.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I love you, my Victor. Between every letter of those five sweet words -there lurk depths of maternal anguish and sorrow. Gloomy reflections -mingle with my tenderest thoughts. My life at this moment<a name="page_237" id="page_237"></a> is divided -between my poor little daughter whom I already mourn in anticipation, -(for I feel that these few days of illness are but snatched from -Eternity), and my adoration for you, from which no preoccupation, even -of the most terrible and sinister character, can long distract me. On -the contrary, my love is all the greater for the trials and sufferings -God sends me. I love you selflessly, as if I myself were already over -the border. My heart is racked, yet I adore you.</p> - -<p>Claire’s condition is the same as yesterday; only the weakness, which, -but for the doctor’s plain warning I might have attributed to the heat, -has increased. The night was not very bad; the poor little thing suffers -hardly at all. She seems to have no firmer hold on life than life has -upon her. Apathy and profound indifference characterise her illness. -Only her father has the power to rouse her for the few moments he is -with her. He came this morning and happened to meet the doctor,<a name="FNanchor_94_94" id="FNanchor_94_94"></a><a href="#Footnote_94_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a> who, -it appears, is not quite so despondent as Monsieur Triger;<a name="FNanchor_95_95" id="FNanchor_95_95"></a><a href="#Footnote_95_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a> but what -does that prove?</p> - -<p>I have not been able to get her up at all to-day. She lay in bed in a -state of profuse and constant perspiration. The various tonics she takes -fail to produce any effect whatever. The exhaustion increases hour by -hour, which means that death is coming nearer. I pray, but I obtain -neither solace nor confidence. The good God disdains my prayers and -rejects them, I know—yet I love and admire Him in His beneficent, -lofty, noble, generous and beautiful works.</p> - -<p>I love Him as His saints and angels in Heaven love<a name="page_238" id="page_238"></a> Him. What more can I -do to find favour in His eyes? He deprived me of my mother at my birth; -now He is about to snatch my child from me. Is that His justice? I do -not want to blaspheme, but I am very miserable, and if I do not see you, -if you cannot come to-day, I do not know what will become of me. Despair -fills my soul, but I love you. God may crush my heart if He so wills, -but the last breath from it shall be a cry of love for you, my sublime -beloved.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>April 29th, 9 a.m., 1847.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, my adored Victor. My thoughts and soul and heart go out to -you in this greeting. I hope I shall see you before you go to the -rehearsal, for if I do not, I shall have to wait till this evening, -which would increase my depression. From now until the anniversary of -the terrible day on which I lost my poor child, every hour and minute is -punctuated by the recollection of the sufferings of that poor little -thing, and of the anguish I went through. They are painful memories, -impossible to exclude from my thoughts. Last night while I lay sleepless -I seemed to hear her, and in my dreams I saw her again as she looked at -the close of her illness. I am worn out this morning. All the pangs and -fatigues of the last moments of her life weigh down my heart and limbs. -It may be that I shall find comfort in prayer, and I shall pray better -by her side, buoyed up by the hope that she will hear me and obtain for -me resignation enough to bear her absence without murmur or bitterness. -It was you who gave me the courage to live. All that a heart can gain -from consolation, I<a name="page_239" id="page_239"></a> found in your love; but there is a grief surpassing -all others and beyond human aid, for which only God can provide, and to -Him I must address myself to-day.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 8 a.m., May 6th, 1847.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, my all, my greatly loved Toto. How are you this morning? -Did you gather in a good harvest of glances, smiles and flattery -yesterday from the women you met? Were you the cause of many incipient -passions, or were you yourself ensnared by those females, like any -beardless student or bald-headed peer of the realm? Tell me, how are you -after your evening at Court? For my part, I have a very sore throat and -am feeling fearfully cross. I have a longing to scratch which I should -love to vent upon the face of some woman or even upon yours—or better -still, upon both. I am sick of playing the gentle, sheep-like woman. I -intend to become as fierce as a hyena, and to make your life and -everything depending upon it a burthen to you. I mean to make a terrible -example of you, so that people shall say as you pass by, that it is a -woman who has been outraged, but a Juju who has avenged herself! -Meanwhile, to begin with, I am going to wrest from you somehow, two silk -dresses, a lovely hat, two pairs of smart shoes; and if you do not -confess your crime, I will punish you to the tune of torrents of -tea-gowns, pocket-handkerchiefs, and silk stockings. I am capable of -anything if you drive me too far.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_240" id="page_240"></a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Tuesday, 12.45 p.m., June 6th, 1848.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>The more I think of all that is going on in Paris at this moment, my -beloved, the less do I desire the success of your election.<a name="FNanchor_96_96" id="FNanchor_96_96"></a><a href="#Footnote_96_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a> We must -let this frenzy of the populace which knows not what it wants and is in -no condition to distinguish the true from the false, or evil from good, -exhaust itself first. When it is worn out with turning in its own -vicious circle of disorder, violence, and misery, it will come to heel -and humbly crave the assistance of incorruptible, strong, sane -politicians, among whom you are the most incorruptible, the strongest, -and the sanest. I say this in the simplicity of my heart, without any -pretension to be other than a mere woman who loves you above all things, -and trembles lest you should enter upon some undertaking that might -jeopardise your life without saving your country. Therefore I pray that -this candidature, to which you have been driven in self-sacrifice and -generosity, may not succeed. If I am unpatriotic, I accept the blame, -but I do think that in this instance my feeling is in accord with the -best interests of France. It would not be the first time that the heart -has proved cleverer than the brain. It has happened too often in my case -for me to marvel. Pending our next meeting, I kiss you from my soul, I -adore you with all my strength.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp240_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp240_sml.jpg" width="288" height="447" alt="VICTOR HUGO, RÉPUBLICAIN. - -Political caricature, 1848." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">VICTOR HUGO, RÉPUBLICAIN.<br /> -Political caricature, 1848.</span> -</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Monday, 9 a.m., July 9th, 1849.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I am hurrying, my love, for I wish to be at the door of the Assemblée at -noon precisely, in order to secure<a name="page_241" id="page_241"></a> a good place.<a name="FNanchor_97_97" id="FNanchor_97_97"></a><a href="#Footnote_97_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a> I wish the great -moment had arrived, for I am already feeling stage-fright, and it will -go on increasing until I see you descend from the tribune. I thought -this morning that I could not experience any other sensation than -happiness at seeing you, but now I begin to understand what fear is. Yet -when I say fear, I am hardly correct; for I mean something more -indefinite, which is rather the suspense before a great joy, than the -stupid emotion of cowardice or funk. In any case, I am very agitated; I -wander aimlessly about the house, and feel as if the longed-for moment -would never arrive. My blessed love, my great Victor, my sublime -beloved, I kiss in spirit your noble forehead with its generous -thoughts, your beautiful eyes so gentle and powerful, your fascinating -mouth, which has the happiness of speaking all your divine thoughts. I -prostrate myself before the most beautiful and most sublime thing in the -whole world, namely, your dear little person and your profound genius.</p> - -<p>I do not ask you to think of me before your speech, adored one, but -afterwards I entreat you to spare me one glance to complete my -happiness.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Wednesday, 12.30, February 6th, 1850.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Think of me, my adored one, and do not permit yourself to be ensnared by -the mercenary blandishments of that woman.<a name="FNanchor_98_98" id="FNanchor_98_98"></a><a href="#Footnote_98_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a> I am in the throes of a -jealousy<a name="page_242" id="page_242"></a> so terrible, that the hardest heart would be moved to pity, -and the most intrepid would fear me; for I am suffering, and I am -capable of anything to avenge a despicable treachery. Alas, my poor -adored one, this is not what I should like to say, or what I ought to -say. I realise that threats are powerless to hold you. I believe if the -statistics of infidelity could be drawn up like those of crime, it would -be shown that the severe penalties of the code of love are more apt to -drive lovers into breaches of its laws than to bind them together. I am -sure of it, and I wish I could convert my natural ferocity into bland -indifference, in order to remove from you the stimulant of a forbidden -Rachel; but it is no good—I shall never manage it. Therefore, I implore -you for the sake of your personal safety and mine, to be honourable and -prudent in your dramatic relations with that dangerous and perfidious -Jewess. Try not to prolong your literary and theatrical consultation -beyond the strictly necessary limits, and to come and fetch me before -three o’clock.</p> - -<p>I should be so grateful to you, my adored little man, for you would thus -abridge the moments of my torment. Meanwhile I am very unhappy and -anxious and worried. I try to hearten myself up by remembering the last -promises you made me. When do you intend to keep them, I wonder? God -knows!</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Saturday, 8 a.m., April 6th, 1850.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, my adored one, my sublime beloved. How are you? Did you -have a better night, or did fatigue and excitement prevent you from -sleeping? When I think of the admirable speech, so religious in<a name="page_243" id="page_243"></a> -character, so noble, self-abnegating, and conciliating, that you -delivered yesterday<a name="FNanchor_99_99" id="FNanchor_99_99"></a><a href="#Footnote_99_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a> at the risk of your health, and then reflect -upon the senseless uproar, and idiotic and violent interruptions it -provoked, I feel only hatred, contempt, and disgust, for political life. -It is revolting that a man like you should be the butt of the -irresponsibility of all the parties. It is hateful, abominable, -infamous, that scoundrels without talent, wit, or feeling should dare -argue with you and should be accorded an attentive hearing where you -only meet with insults. Really, my treasure, the more I see of political -life, the more I regret the time when you were simply the <i>poet</i> Victor -Hugo, my sublime love, my radiant lover. I revere your courage and -devotion, but I am hurt in my tenderest feelings when I see you -delivered over to the beasts of an arena a thousand times less -discriminating than that of ancient Rome. Therefore, my beloved Victor, -I have conceived a loathing, not only for your antagonists, but also for -the form of government which imposes this Sisyphus life upon you. If I -had the power to change it, I can assure you I should not hesitate, even -if I had to deprive you for ever of your rights of citizenship. -Unfortunately, I can do nothing beyond cordially detesting those who -obstruct your work. I pity you, bless you, admire you, and love you with -all my soul.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Saturday, 3 p.m., June 29th, 1850.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I have just watched you go with inexpressible sadness, my sweet and -beautiful beloved. With you<a name="page_244" id="page_244"></a> have departed the sunshine, the flowers, -the pleasant thoughts, the hopes that link past happiness with future -bliss. Nought remains to me but my love, a poor hermit whose regrets -have been her sole bedfellows this long time. When you turned the corner -of the street, something luminous, soft, and sweet, seemed to die within -me. From that moment I have been as depressed and desolate as if a great -misfortune had befallen me. Alas, it is in fact the misfortune that -weighs down my whole life, namely, your absence. Since politics have -monopolised your time, happiness has eluded my grasp. Will it ever -return? I doubt it, hence my despair. I am greatly to be commiserated, -my beloved, in that I have constituted your eyes my illumination, your -smile my joy, your words my bliss, your love my life—so that when you -are away, all these are simultaneously snatched from me. I am not -certain of seeing you to-night, still less to-morrow. What is to become -of me? What am I to do with this poor body bereft of its soul when you -are not by? Tell me if you can. Explain if you dare. Meanwhile, I adore -you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Monday, 10 p.m., July 7th, 1851.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>What I had foreseen has happened, my beloved, even sooner and more -painfully than I had feared. Does this fresh crisis foreshadow my speedy -recovery? I dare not hope it, for I feel that my disease is incurable. I -tell you so in the frankness of my despair. I neither can nor will -deceive you, beloved, and my anxiety, far from diminishing, augments -with every minute. I am suffering the torment of the<a name="page_245" id="page_245"></a> most humiliating -and poignant jealousy. I know that for seven years you have <i>adored</i> a -woman you think beautiful, witty and accomplished.<a name="FNanchor_100_100" id="FNanchor_100_100"></a><a href="#Footnote_100_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a> I know that but -for her sudden treachery,<a name="FNanchor_101_101" id="FNanchor_101_101"></a><a href="#Footnote_101_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a> she would still be your preferred -mistress. I know that you introduced her into your family-circle, that -she is of your world, that you can meet her at any moment, that you -promised her you would continue your intimacy with her, at all events -outwardly. All this I know—yet you expect me to feel my own position -secure! Surely I should need to be idiotic or insane to do that. Alas, I -happen to be instead a very clear-sighted, miserable woman.</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Midnight.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Beloved, thanks to you and thanks to your tender perseverance and -inexhaustible kindness, I am once more, and this time for ever I hope, -the sensible, sanguine, happy Juju of the good old days. But if I am to -be quite as I was then, you must suffer no longer, my little man—you -must be as strong as three Turks, and love me as much as a hundred -Swiss-guards. On those conditions I shall be happy! happy!! happy!!!, -but pending that great day, try to sleep soundly to-night, not to be -unwell to-morrow, and to forgive me for loving you too much.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Saturday, 8 p.m., July 26th, 1851.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I trust you, my beloved, and believe everything you say. I yield my soul -to the hopes of happiness<a name="page_246" id="page_246"></a> you have held out to me. My heart is full of -love and security. I love you, I am happy, I am at peace, I forget all I -have suffered. I remember only the tender, loyal, encouraging words you -uttered just now. Felicity has succeeded despair—I quit hell and enter -Paradise. I love you and you love me, nothing can be sad any more. You -will see how I shall resume my interest in life, how I shall smile, how -happy I shall be, and what confidence I shall have in you. I do not know -whether we shall be able to carry out all the adorable plans you -sketched just now, but I experienced great happiness in anticipation -while I watched you making them, and knew myself so closely associated -with them. I felt as if all my past sorrows were transfigured into -happiness to come. I listened, and my heart was filled with joy. Thank -you, my Victor, thank you, my beloved. Do not be anxious about me any -more; now that you love me I shall get well. I shall be happy again, you -will see. I am beginning already, so as to lose no time in rewarding you -for your goodness and gentleness and patience. I am awaiting you with my -sweetest smiles, my tenderest caresses.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Monday, 12.45 p.m., July 28th, 1851.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>This is the hour I begin to expect you, my Victor; each second that lags -past with the slowness of eternity crushes my hopes as quickly as I -conceive them. What is to become of me all this wretched day if I may -not see you? Oh, I thought myself stronger, braver, more resigned; but -now I see I have used up all my strength in the horrible struggle<a name="page_247" id="page_247"></a> I -have been going through this last month. What will happen to me, shut up -here, all alone with that terrible anniversary, the 28th June, 1851? How -can I evade its ghastly grip, how keep myself from suicide, from the -desperate hankering after death? Oh, God, how I suffer! I implore you, -do not leave me alone here to-d....<a name="FNanchor_102_102" id="FNanchor_102_102"></a><a href="#Footnote_102_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Midnight.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>This letter, which was begun in delirium and mad jealousy has ended, -thanks to you my ineffable beloved, in the happy calm of confidence and -the sacred joy of love shared. May you be blest, my Victor, as much as -you are respected, venerated, adored, and admired by me—then you will -have nothing further to desire in this world or the next.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Saturday, 8 a.m., August 2nd, 1851.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, man that I love; good morning, with all my joy and smiles -and soul and happiness and love, if you had a good night and are well. I -felt sure your dear Charles’ depression could not stand against an hour -of your gentle and persuasive philosophy. You have the marvellous art of -extracting good from evil, and consolation from despair, and there is -irresistible magic in your eyes and smile; your every word is full of -seduction. I, who only linger in this life in the hope of seeing you -every day, should know something of that. What the joys of eternity in -Paradise may be I cannot tell, but I would sacrifice<a name="page_248" id="page_248"></a> them all for one -minute of your true love. My Victor, my Victor, I love you. You will see -how sensible I am going to be, and how I shall give way to all the -exigencies of your work, and the consideration required by your position -as a political personage. I am ready, my Victor; dispose of me how you -will; whether happy or unhappy, I shall bless you. I trust the bad -atmosphere you were compelled to breathe for several hours yesterday did -not injure your throat. I am eagerly awaiting this afternoon to learn -this, and to see you. Until then, I love you, I love you, I love you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Friday morning, September 12th, 1851.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, and forgive me my poor sweet beloved, for nothing was -further from my thoughts than to torment you as I involuntarily did -yesterday. My foolishness does not include malice, and I respect you -even in my most violent bouts of despair. Besides, you had just been -telling me something that ought to increase my clinging to life, namely, -my responsibility for your tranquillity, your fortune, your genius and -existence. Without accepting in its entirety this exaggerated view of my -own importance in the grave situation you find yourself in, my -persecuted love, I have grasped that I should be unworthy of the -position, were I to allow my troubles to weigh in the balance, against -your safety. Therefore, my Victor, you have nothing to fear from me, so -long as my poor brain retains a glimmer of reason, and my wretched heart -a scrap of confidence in your loyalty.</p> - -<p>I spent part of the night reading over your old<a name="page_249" id="page_249"></a> letters, especially -those of <i>May 1844</i>,<a name="FNanchor_103_103" id="FNanchor_103_103"></a><a href="#Footnote_103_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a> and I shed more tears over your desecrated -tenderness and sullied affection, than you can have squandered kisses -upon that woman, during the seven years of your treachery to me. If life -could escape through the eyes, my sufferings would long ere this be -terminated; but like sorrow, the soul is not so quickly exhausted, -though God only knows where it finds sustenance. As for me, my adored -one, I love you without being able either to live or to be healed. I am -ashamed of my incurability, and I gratefully compassionate the -superhuman efforts you make to restore me to courage.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 10.45 p.m., October 23rd, 1851.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>You know my dear little man, that I need no encouragement to give way to -epistolary intemperance. When time permits, I am always ready to fling -myself unrestrainedly into a sea of lucubrations without sense or end. -But this time I have more than a mere pretext for giving rein to my -harmless mania; I have two days full of the most radiant joy and -happiness that could befall a woman who lives only by and for her love. -Whole volumes would not suffice to enumerate and describe them, and even -your sublime genius would not be too great to express the splendid -poetry of them. I felt as if a little winged soul sprang from each one -of our embraces and flew heavenward with cries of jubilation and joy. -Your love penetrated my soul and warmed it, as the rays of the sun -pierce through the fogs and melan<a name="page_250" id="page_250"></a>choly of autumn, and reach the earth -to console it and lay the blessed seed of hope within her womb. I -rejoiced in the bliss, watered by tears, that precedes and follows love -and sunshine, in that season of life and nature. Though my heart is -bestrewn with the dead leaves of past illusions, I feel new sap rising -within it, which awaits only your vivifying breath to bring forth the -flowers and fruits of love.</p> - -<p>My adored Victor, my soul overflows with the accumulated joys of those -two days of life by your side under the eye of God. I relieve myself as -best I can by pouring out the surplus of my enchantment upon this paper. -Sleep well, my adored one, I love you and bless you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday, 8 a.m., November 6th, 1851.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, my sweetheart, my adored one. I wish my kisses had wings, -that you might find them on your pillow at your awakening. If you only -knew how much I love you, you would understand that for me there is -life, heart, and soul, only in you, by you, and for you. Yesterday when -I passed your old house in the Place Royale, all the memories of our -love and happiness awoke again within me. I stood awhile before it, -caressing its threshold with my eyes, fingering the knocker, pushing the -door ajar to peer in, as I should look at the inside of a reliquary, or -touch some sacred object. Then I went into the garden to gaze up at the -windows whence you sometimes looked down upon me. I wandered all about -the district in the same sweet, sad tremor I experience when I read over -your old love-letters. I traced our<a name="page_251" id="page_251"></a> past happiness upon every stone of -the pavement, at every street-corner, on the shop-signs—everywhere I -found memories of our kisses among those surroundings where I enjoyed -happiness for so long, where you loved me and I adored you—where, eight -years ago, I would gladly have lain me down to die if God had left me -the choice.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Brussels</span>,<br /> -<i>Wednesday, 1 p.m., December 17th, 1851</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Beloved one, I wish the first sheet of paper I use, the first word I -write, in this hospitable country, to be a message of love from me to -you. It is surely the least I can do, since my every thought, my life -and heart and soul, pass through you before reaching the common objects -of this world and returning to me. Is it indeed possible that you are -safe, my poor treasure, and that I have nothing further to fear for your -life or liberty? Is it true that you love me, and that you deign to rely -upon me in the difficult passages of life? Is it conceivable that I am -henceforth happy and blest among women, and that I have the right to -raise my head and bask openly in the sunlight of love and -self-sacrifice! Ah, God, I thank Thee for all the gifts and joys and -blessings Thou dost bestow upon me to-day, in the revered and adored -person of my sublime beloved! All my efforts shall be directed towards -deserving them more and more. All my gratitude is for Thee, my God!</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_252" id="page_252"></a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Brussels</span>,<br /> -<i>Wednesday, 3.30 p.m., December 17th, 1851</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Do not worry about me, my beloved, for I never love you better or more -tranquilly than when I know you are attending to your family duties and -busying yourself with securing the peace and comfort of your wife and -children. Pray devote yourself entirely to the service of your noble -wife for the time of her sojourn here. Do not deny her any of the little -pleasures that may divert her mind from the heavy trials she has just -undergone. Let my resignation and courage, my consideration and -devotion, help to smooth the rough places of life for her as long as she -remains with you. Give her all the consolation and joy in your power. -Lavish upon her the respect and affection she deserves, and do not fear -ever to wear out my patience and trust in you.</p> - -<p>I see you coming my adored one. Bless you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Brussels</span>,<br /> -<i>Monday, 3.30 p.m., January 19th, 1852.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I had set myself a task, beloved, before writing to you, in order to -earn that sweet reward. I have just completed it, and without further -delay I proceed with my insignificant vapourings, in the intervals of -copying two most interesting stories. I am not writing for your benefit, -but for the pleasure it gives me to babble a few tender words to you in -default of the kisses and caresses I cannot give you at this distance.</p> - -<p>My Victor, as you do not wish me to be sad, and hate to feel that I am -unhappy, and dread the sight<a name="page_253" id="page_253"></a> of my pain, you must adopt the habit of -telling me everything frankly and under all circumstances. Your -deceptions, however trivial and kindly meant, hurt me far more than the -harshest of truths (if you were capable of harshness towards any -creature). I declare this without bitterness and in the form of an -appeal, my beloved. Do not hide anything from me. Try to manage that -your answers to the admiring letters certain women address to you, -should be written at my house rather than elsewhere. Do not delay -telling me things until I have guessed them for myself, or circumstances -have betrayed them. No hints can be unimportant where jealousy is -concerned, and there is no happiness without complete confidence. -Therefore, my beloved, I implore you with all the urgency my soul is -capable of, to tell me everything—even the ownership of those <i>opera -glasses</i>, and about the <i>Hügelmann</i> notes, of which I have several here, -forwarded from Belle-Île, and certain names and addresses; and about -those actresses you protect with so much solicitude, and the -machinations of the bluestockings who apply to you for mysterious -nocturnal interviews, under pretext of enlisting your pity or your -literary sympathy—about Mdlle. Constance, too, in spite of her -significant name and reassuring age. I want to know everything—I must -know everything, if you are really concerned for my peace of mind, and -health, and happiness. Then I shall become calm, patient, happy; my -pulse will beat evenly, I shall grow fat and smiling. Does not all that -make it worth while for you to be frank, loyal, and ever faithful -towards me?</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_254" id="page_254"></a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Brussels</span>,<br /> -<i>Monday, 1 p.m., March 22nd, 1852</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>You may give me something to copy for you now if you like. I have nearly -finished that foolish scrawl, so if you want to utilise my time, you can -send me anything you like. I am quite at your disposal. Meanwhile, I am -mending your underlinen and my own, and watching the clouds sail above -my narrow horizon. I envy them without having the courage to follow -their example and allow myself to be driven by chance winds or caprice. -I am too lazy, bodily and mentally, to move. I recline in my chimney -corner, cosily humped up, and my soul lies torpid within me. I am not -exactly unhappy, neither am I sad in the true meaning of the word—but I -am uneasy and depressed. I feel a threatening influence in the -atmosphere about me. What it is, I cannot precisely say, but I am under -some evil thrall. I am sure there is a mystery between us that you are -trying to conceal, and that fate will force me to discover sooner or -later. Perhaps it would be safer not to try to hide things from me—it -would certainly be more loyal and generous; but as neither prayers nor -tears can induce you to give me your full confidence, I will await my -fate with resignation. After all, as long as you arrange your life to -suit your own feelings and tastes, I have no right to complain. I have -never meant to force myself upon you in any case; therefore, my Victor, -whatever happens, you may be sure I shall place no obstacle in the way -of your happiness and glory. I love you with all the pride of my -inferiority.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_255" id="page_255"></a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Brussels</span>,<br /> -<i>Sunday morning, July 18th, 1852</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Good-morning, my Victor. I will do exactly as you like. So long as my -love is not called into question, what does it matter how, and when, my -body changes its <i>habitat</i> and moves from Brussels to Jersey? Therefore, -my Victor, I make no objection to starting at the same time as you. -Between the pain of a twenty-four hours’ separation, and the -mortification of travelling with you as a total stranger, my poor heart -would find it hard to choose. It is quite natural that I should -sacrifice myself to appearances, and respect the presence of your sons -by this painful incognito, but it seems cruelly unjust and ironical that -it should be required of my devotion and fidelity and love, when it was -never thought of in the case of that other woman, whose sole virtue -consisted in possessing none. For her, the family doors were always -open, the deference and courteous protection of your sons exacted; your -wife extended to her the cloak of her consideration, and accepted her as -a friend, a sister, and more. For her, indulgence, sympathy, -affection—for me, the rigorous application of all the penalties -contained in the code of prejudice, hypocrisy, and immorality. Honours -for the shameless vices of the society lady—only indignities for the -poor creature who sins through honest devotion and love. It is quite -simple. Society must be considered. I will leave for Jersey when and how -you will.</p> - -<p>I am quite ready to copy for Charles. I fear he may find my bad writing -more tiresome than useful, but I shall do my best, and I will get some -better<a name="page_256" id="page_256"></a> pens. He had better send me the manuscript as soon as possible. -From now till then I am, my Victor, at your absolute disposal.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Jersey</span>,<br /> -<i>Thursday, 9 a.m., December 2nd, 1852</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, my divine, adored love. When one considers what the -infamous trap laid for you on December 2nd has inspired you to write, -one is tempted to give thanks to Providence. It almost seems as if that -dastardly crime had been committed for the aggrandisement of your -renown, and the better instruction of the nations. I do not think any -scoundrel will ever be found bold enough to repeat the offence, after -reading your fulminating poems. Just a year ago, on this day and at this -hour, I learnt the news of the <i>Coup d’état</i> through poor Dillon. -Knowing how closely it concerned me, the worthy creature rushed to my -house from the Faubourg St. Germain to warn me, and place her services -at my disposal, which meant at yours, for she is a brave, noble woman. -From that moment until the day I received your dear letter from Brussels -announcing your safety, I lived in a state of nightmare. I only woke -again to life and happiness when I found myself in your arms on the -morning of December 14th in the Customs shed at Brussels. Since then, my -beloved Victor, my sublime Victor, I have never let a day pass without -thanking God for rescuing you so miraculously, nor have I ceased for one -minute to admire and adore you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_257" id="page_257"></a></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp256a_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp256a_sml.jpg" width="191" height="279" alt="DRAWING BY VICTOR HUGO, SIGNED “TOTO.” -Unpublished, belonging to the Author." /></a> -<span style="margin-left: 5%;margin-right:5%"> </span> - -<a href="images/ill_fp256b_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp256b_sml.jpg" width="74" height="277" alt="THE FLOWER AND THE BUTTERFLY. -Drawing by Victor Hugo for Juliette (Victor Hugo Museum)." /></a> -<br /> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr valign="top" align="center"><td> -<span class="caption2">DRAWING BY VICTOR HUGO, SIGNED “TOTO.”<br /> -Unpublished, belonging to the Author.</span></td> -<td><span class="caption2">THE FLOWER AND THE BUTTERFLY.<br /> -Drawing by Victor Hugo for Juliette (Victor Hugo Museum).</span></td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Jersey</span>,<br /> -<i>Friday, 9 a.m., December 3rd, 1852</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, my life, my soul, my joy, my happiness.</p> - -<p>Dear adored one, from yesterday until the 14th of this month, there is -not a moment that does not recall to me the dangers you were exposed to -a year ago,<a name="FNanchor_104_104" id="FNanchor_104_104"></a><a href="#Footnote_104_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a> and the terrors and inexpressible anguish I endured all -through those awful ten days. A year ago, at this very hour of the -morning, you stood in the Faubourg St. Antoine, alone, holding and -challenging a frantic mob lost to all sense of reason and restraint. I -can see you now, my poor beloved, calling upon the soldiers to remember -their duty and their honour, threatening the generals, withering them -with your contempt. You were terrible and sublime. You might have been -the Genius of France witnessing in an agony of bitter despair, the -accomplishment of the most cowardly and despicable of crimes. It is an -absolute miracle that you escaped alive from that spot which echoed with -the solitary force of your heroic fury. When I think of it I still feel -terrified and dazzled.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Jersey</span>,<br /> -<i>Saturday, 8 a.m., November 27th, 1852</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, my poor flayed, mutilated darling. How I pitied you -yesterday during the long-drawn-out<a name="page_258" id="page_258"></a> massacre of your masterpiece,<a name="FNanchor_105_105" id="FNanchor_105_105"></a><a href="#Footnote_105_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a> -which however, like an Immortal, emerged from the ordeal finer and in -better fettle than ever. As for me, my treasure, I could only admire and -envy your heroic impassivity in the face of that frightful profanation. -I could hardly sit still, so vexed and irritated did I feel at the -audacity of those wretched strolling mountebanks. Yet Heaven knows how -hard they must have worked to be even as ridiculous as they were. One -cannot be really angry with them, but it is impossible to recall them -individually without laughing till the tears run down one’s cheeks. That -is what I have been doing ever since I came out of that horrible little -theatre, for I did not sleep very much. My thoughts were busy with you, -my adored one; I was seeing you again in imagination, handsome, young, -triumphant, as you were at the original performance of your <i>Angélo</i>. I -felt all the tenderness and adoration of those old days surging up again -in my heart.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Jersey</span>,<br /> -<i>Monday, 8 a.m., December 29th, 1852</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, my too-dearly loved little man. I am cleverer than you, -for I do not need lenses, paper, chemicals, and sunshine, to reproduce -you in every form within my heart. Love is a splendid stereoscope; it -throws all the photographs and daguerreotypes in the world, into the -shade. It can even, if the need exist, convert black jealousy into white -confidence,<a name="page_259" id="page_259"></a> and force into relief the smallest modicum of happiness, -the slightest mark of love. That being so, I hardly know why I desire so -ardently to multiply your dear little pictures around me, unless it is -that I wish to compare them with those of my inner shrine. Whatever be -the reason, I do implore you, my dear little man, to give me one as soon -as possible; it will be such a pleasure to me. Meanwhile my poor -persecuted hero, I cannot tell what trials the future may have in store -for you, but as long as a breath of life remains within me, I mean to -expend it in defending, guarding, and serving you. My faith in the power -of my love amounts to superstition; I feel that so long as I care for -you, nothing irretrievably bad can happen to you. This is neither pride -nor fatuousness on my part; it is a sort of intuition that comes to me, -I think, from Heaven above.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Jersey</span>,<br /> -<i>9 p.m., Thursday, January 6th, 1853</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>If the soul could take visible shape, you would perceive mine at this -moment, my sweet adored one, bending over you and smiling. If kisses had -wings, you would feel them swooping about your dear little person in -clouds, like joyous birds upon a beautiful flowering bush. -Unfortunately, my soul and kisses have to pass and repass before you -invisible, and perhaps even unsuspected by you. But that does not deter -me, and I am drawn irresistibly to you by the need of living in your -atmosphere. My thoughts sit boldly at your side wherever you are. -However my chastened personality may bend under the con<a name="page_260" id="page_260"></a>tempt and -disdain of the world, my love rears itself proudly in the consciousness -of its superiority. While you leave my body standing outside, it enters -hardily with you and leaves you not. This may not be very tactful of me, -but it is the mark of an ardent and loyal heart. And after all we are -living “on an Island.” I can see you, making eyes at your neighbour on -the left, and signalling to the one opposite. I want you to be mine -absolutely, body and soul, and I do not mean to share one little bit of -you with anybody. You must make up your mind to that, and content -yourself with enjoying the cosmopolitan cookery of that Hungarian -Lucullus.<a name="FNanchor_106_106" id="FNanchor_106_106"></a><a href="#Footnote_106_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a> I will allow you to gorge like four Englishmen and drink -like one Pole, but I shall not take my eyes off you and shall watch your -every movement. I think you laugh a great deal for a grave man with a -handsome mouth, and your hands are enough to bring a blush of envy to -the paws of all those exiled females! They suffer by comparison—so much -the better! Hold your tongue, drink, turn your head my way at once, and -keep it there.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Jersey</span>,<br /> -<i>Tuesday, 12.30 p.m., February 1st, 1853</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>I really mean what I said just now, my dear little boy. Instead of -posing interminably in front of the daguerreotype,<a name="FNanchor_107_107" id="FNanchor_107_107"></a><a href="#Footnote_107_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a> you could quite -well have taken me for a walk if you had wanted to. Anyhow, pretexts for -keeping away from me will never fail<a name="page_261" id="page_261"></a> you, and the fine weather will now -add many to those already on your list. Therefore I ask you in all good -faith, what use am I to you in this island, apart from my functions of -copyist? I do not wish to reopen this eternal discussion in which you -never tell me the truth, yet I shall never cease to protest against a -state of things so foreign to true love, and so little conducive to my -happiness. And now, my dear little man, you may amuse yourself, and make -daguerreotypes, and enjoy the glorious sunshine in your own way. I, for -my part, shall make use of solitude, desertion, and shadow, to bring to -a head an attack of depression which will easily develop into a great -big sorrow. I shall study how to make the most of it. Meanwhile I smile -prettily at you, after the fashion of a stage dancer executing the final -pirouette which has exhausted her strength and left her breathless. -Brrrr.... Long live Toto! Long live worries and all their kith and kin! -Long live love!</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Jersey</span>,<br /> -<i>Thursday, 9 p.m., April 28th, 1853</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>I come to you, my beloved, as you are unable to return to me this -evening. I come to tell you I love you without regret for the past or -fear for the future. I come to you with a smile on my lips and a -blessing in my bosom, with my hand upon my mutilated heart and my eyes -full of pardon, with my purity restored and my soul redeemed by twenty -years of fidelity and love, with my delusions swept away and my faith -shining. I come to you without rancour,<a name="page_262" id="page_262"></a> sustained by divine hope. I -come with the maternal devotion and the passionate tenderness of a -lover, with a mind instinct with reverence and admiration, a resignation -and piety like to those of God’s martyrs, and I constitute you the -supreme arbiter of my fate. Do with me what you will in this life, so -long as you take me with you in the next. I sacrifice my feelings to the -virtue of your wife and the innocence of your daughter, as a homage and -a safeguard, and I reserve my prayers and tears for poor fallen women -like myself. Lastly, my adored one, I give you my share of Paradise in -exchange for your chances of hell, considering myself fortunate to have -purchased your eternal bliss with my eternal love.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Jersey</span>,<br /> -<i>Thursday, 5 p.m., July 7th, 1853</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Whatever you may say, my sweet one, to retard the gradual cessation of -my daily yarns, you cannot stay the progress of the natural law, even -when assisted by my passive submission to your will. Why continue this -custom of writing to you twice a day, when the pretext for doing so has -faded from our joint lives? If I were a woman of parts, I could -substitute imagination and shrewd observation for love-making; but as -these are entirely lacking in me, I have nothing to record in those -bulletins where kisses and caresses once occupied the chief place. Now, -when I have said good morning and alluded to the state of the weather, I -have nothing more to say, because I am stupid. Your influence alone can -extract what is in my heart.<a name="page_263" id="page_263"></a> For this reason, my dear one, these -scribbles became blank and aimless, from the moment the happiness that -once dictated them began to die away and degenerate into a friendship -despoiled of all pleasure and voluptuousness. I do not reproach you, my -adored one, any more than I reproach myself for not being still the -woman you loved beyond everything—still it might be better to -discontinue this daily record of the change, and to give up the piteous -babblings which no longer have even the excuse of wit.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Jersey</span>,<br /> -<i>Saturday, 2.30 p.m., September 24th</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>How one’s brain scintillates from living for ever within four walls! -What sparkling and varied incidents one experiences in this existence of -a squirrel in a cage! For my part I am so inspired by it that I hardly -know where to commence. Let us, therefore, proceed in due sequence; my -cat, which has been slumbering for the last two hours on its right ear, -has just turned over on to its left.</p> - -<p>Père Nicotte, abandoning the ploughshare, announces for Thursday, -September 29th, the sale by auction of three fat hogs, a sow with her -eight sucking pigs, three yearling bulls, another rising two, and other -items too numerous and too peculiar to enumerate.</p> - -<p>Births: August 5th. Blanche Laura, daughter of Mr. Harper Richard Hugo.</p> - -<p>The annual dinner of the Society will take place on the above-mentioned -day. Those intending to be present, and those proposing to furnish fruit -for<a name="page_264" id="page_264"></a> the same, are urgently requested to send in their names on or -before the preceding Saturday.</p> - -<p>What more do you want? Eleven pigs, not including the sow, three -yearling bulls, not including the one rising two, a daughter of your -own, and permission to invite yourself to a dinner of the Society, and -even to furnish the fruit for it. If all this does not attract you and -stir the very marrow of your bones, and tempt your appetite, you must be -dead to the promptings of sensibility, paternity, and sensuality. In -that case, go to bed and to sleep, and leave me to myself—the more so, -as I do not happen to possess an accommodating table,<a name="FNanchor_108_108" id="FNanchor_108_108"></a><a href="#Footnote_108_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a> to furnish me -with ready-made apparitions. Remember, I have to be my own Dante, Æsop, -and Shakspere, whereas you catch the dead fish that the spirits of the -other world attach to your lines—a proceeding practised in the -Mediterranean long before those tittle-tattling tables were thought of. -Pray accept my most tender sentiments.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Jersey</span>,<br /> -<i>Sunday, 10 a.m., January 1st, 1854</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>I love you so much, my darling, that I cannot find anything else to say -to you. My poor spirit is ready to give way under the weight of too much -love, like a bough bending under an abnormal show of fruit; but my heart -has strength enough to bear without flinching the infinite tenderness, -admiration, and adoration I feel for you.</p> - -<p>What a letter, my adored one! I read it with my<a name="page_265" id="page_265"></a> heart in my eyes. It -seemed to penetrate word by word like sun-rays into the very marrow of -my bones. My Victor, your hopes are mine, your will, mine, your faith, -mine; I am what you deserve that I should be; I live only for you and in -you. To love you, serve you, reverence you, adore you, are my only -aspirations in this world. Where you are, I shall be; where you -struggle, I shall watch; when you suffer I shall pray, when you are -threatened I will defend you, save you, or die. I tell you all this -pell-mell and anyhow, my adored Victor, for it is impossible for me to -discipline my thoughts when they fly in your direction—they are less -amenable to common sense than to my heart and soul, which are in ecstasy -since this morning. I know not what trials may still be in store for -you, my sublime, persecuted love, but I can answer for my own courage -and devotion to you. Like you I associate our two angels with all my -prayers and hopes and joys and love. I constitute them your guardian -angels and to them I confide your life, that is, mine, your heart, that -is, my happiness. I send you enough kisses to make a connecting-rod from -my mouth to yours.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Monday, 7.30 p.m., July 21st, 1856</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>It shall not be said that your adored name ever appeared before me in -its dazzling nimbus without being saluted by my heart with a triple -salvo of love, oh, my dearly beloved, and without the outpouring of all -the perfume of my soul at your divine feet. Although I am very tired, -almost ill, I cannot let this day pass without giving you my tenderest, -sweetest,<a name="page_266" id="page_266"></a> most love-laden greetings. Others may bring you flowers and -pay you handsome compliments, but I offer you twenty-three years of -tried fidelity free of human stain. It is all I have to bestow—it may -be insignificant, but it is my all. Such a thing cannot be bought; it is -accounted among the treasures of God. In His keeping you will find it, -when the gifts of Heaven shall replace those of Earth. Meanwhile, to -show you that I still belong to this sphere, I send you my beautiful -violet robe brocaded with gold; but I specially stipulate that it should -form part of the decoration of your own room, rather than that you -should hang it in the gallery. Still, if you prefer to use it elsewhere -I leave you free to do as you like, for your pleasure is my sole desire. -You must not imagine that my generosity is entirely disinterested, -because that would be a great mistake. I am sure you would not wish to -remain in my debt, and that you will therefore give me a little drawing -for your birthday. This is my request—now bring me your cheeks that I -may kiss them without stint, and do be discreet to-night with the women -who will come to offer you birthday greetings! Keep your heart entire -and intact for me.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Friday, 1.45 p.m., December 12th, 1856.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Adored one, I am sending Suzanne to get news of your dear little sick -child.<a name="FNanchor_109_109" id="FNanchor_109_109"></a><a href="#Footnote_109_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a> Although night is coming on, I hope I may get a good report; -this weather is enough to give an attack of nerves to anybody at all -disposed that way. You saw Suzanne<a name="page_267" id="page_267"></a> yourself, my darling, yet someone is -knocking—fancy if it should be you! It is! What happiness!</p> - -<p>How good, how ineffably good you are, dear kind father, to have come -yourself to reassure me about the little feverish symptoms that are -beginning to show themselves to-night in your little girl’s condition. -Let us hope they will yield to remedies this time, and that the night -may prove more calm and satisfactory than the day just passed. Meanwhile -thank you with all my heart, thank you with all my soul, for allowing me -to share your family hopes and fears and joys and troubles. Thank you. -If God hears and grants my prayers, as I trust with sacred confidence He -will, your adored child will soon be restored to health and happiness.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Monday, 7.30 p.m., April 13th, 1857</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>If you say another word I shall seize them all,<a name="FNanchor_110_110" id="FNanchor_110_110"></a><a href="#Footnote_110_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a> so there! I shall -certainly not place my house, my rooms, my old age, my tables, chairs, -carpets, water, ink, my virtue, great and small, at your disposal, to be -rewarded by seeing masterpieces pass under my very nose on their way to -Teleki, Mademoiselle Alix, and other trollops of her calibre. I must -have some too; castles, moonlight scenes, sunrises, and fog effects. If -you are not prepared for a quarrel, you must give me at least my share. -Ah, here you come! I am not sorry to see you....</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_268" id="page_268"></a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Jersey</span>,<br /> -<i>Saturday, 4 p.m., July 1st, 1857</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Darling beloved, I begin my letter in the hope of its being interrupted -shortly, and completed this evening with a lighter heart; but I so need -to love you that I must take the initiative, my adored one. I have just -read the sad, tender poems you gave me to copy. I see you coming....</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>8.45 p.m.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I have just finished copying those adorable verses, so poignant through -their very restraint,<a name="FNanchor_111_111" id="FNanchor_111_111"></a><a href="#Footnote_111_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a> and I weep for my own grief as well as yours, -my poor afflicted friends. The shadow which has fallen across your lives -is black night in my case, for all the radiant joys of family life were -wiped out with the death of my only child. When I think of my forlorn -infancy bereft of father and mother, and of what my deathbed will be, -without the loving tears of a child of my own, I feel as if a curse were -laid upon me for the expiation of some hideous crime. Yet, oh God, I am -not ungrateful to Thee, far from it; I feel indeed with the deepest -gratitude of heart and soul how good Thou art! May you be as greatly -blest as you are loved by me, my Victor. You are divinely grand and -sublime. I kiss your dear little feet and your angel’s wings. I worship -you on my knees.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Jersey</span>,<br /> -<i>Tuesday, 2.30 p.m., July 2nd, 1857</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Yes, since you wish to hear it, I love you, my little<a name="page_269" id="page_269"></a> man; but I could -demonstrate it much more intelligently by working something for you on -canvas, than by daubing this poor little sheet of paper with -hieroglyphics. If perchance death should surprise us before you have -destroyed these crude ebullitions of my heart, inquisitive folk will -experience keen disappointment; they will find it difficult to -distinguish the traces of an overmastering passion in such a petty mind -as mine. I hope you will be provident enough and generous enough to -spare me this humiliation beyond the grave, by burning gradually all -those poor letters that are so ineffective the moment they have crossed -the threshold of my soul. Meanwhile I continue to obey you with entire -submission, and my love for you is greater than your genius—that is to -say, I love you, love you, love you, without being able to find anything -to compare with the magnitude of my infatuation.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Saturday, 8 p.m., December 19th, 1857</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Although unwell and fatigued, my beloved Victor, I cannot leave this -little home where we have loved each other, without penning a grateful -farewell for all the felicity it has sheltered during the year I have -lived in it. I trust I may be as happy in my beautiful new house as I -have been here in my hovel. The sadness I feel to-day is nearer akin to -nerves than to real sorrow. Please forgive it, my adored Victor, if you -have misunderstood and thought for a single instant that you were to -blame for it. Far from reproaching you for the difficulties of my -situation, I<a name="page_270" id="page_270"></a> admire your ineffable kindness and bless you from the -bottom of my heart for all the trouble you are taking to house me -handsomely. It was difficult, but of what are you not capable when you -set your mind to a thing? I think without affecting the false modesty of -a collector, that you have succeeded, and I thank you with all the -strength of my loving soul, which asks no better than to be happy in the -new paradise you have just prepared for me.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Friday, 11 a.m., July 16th, 1858</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>My beloved, my beloved, my beloved, what sin have we committed that God -should strike us so cruelly in your health and my love! Unless it be a -crime to love you too much, I do not feel guilty of aught. What shall I -do, my God, what will become of me! Victor ill and away from me! I dread -lest, as I write, you should almost hear my sobs and guess at my -despair, from these reckless words.</p> - -<p>I had anticipated this trouble and thought myself able to face it. I -know it is imperatively necessary that you should remain at home, yet my -whole being rebels at this separation as at a cruel injustice, and the -greatest misfortune of my life. Why, why, why am I like this, oh, my -God? Yet I possess courage, Thou knowest! Thou knowest also that I -desire his speedy recovery and love him with a devoted, illimitable -love. My adored Victor! Why then, is the reason of this gloomy and -profound despair which robs me of strength and reason? Oh, God, dost -Thou hate me? Have my offences been<a name="page_271" id="page_271"></a> graver than those of other women -like me, that Thou shouldst chastise me so mercilessly! Oh, I suffer, -Victor, I love you, I am wretched!</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Saturday, Noon, July 24th, 1858</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Another short spell of courage and patience, my poor gentle martyr, and -your deliverance will be complete. The doctor has just assured me so. I -shall soon be able to rejoice at your convalescence without the poignant -dread of a frightful disaster mingling itself with my joy. In the -delirious delight this good news gave me, I kissed the doctor’s kindly -hands, which have become sacred to me since they have ministered to you. -The poor man was surprised and moved by my emotion, and looked quite -embarrassed—almost shy of my gratitude—but I was proud of it. Why -should not a woman kiss the hands that have saved the life of the man -she adores, when so many men kiss the idle fingers of the women who -betray them.</p> - -<p>Rosalie arrived a few minutes after the doctor, to fetch your egg, and -found me weeping and smiling. I explained the reason to her. The girl -has surprised me in tears so often that I fear she will take me for a -cry-baby by temperament, though God knows, I do not lay claim to -hyper-sensitiveness. But how could I have remained calm during your -long, painful illness. For, my beloved, one can afford to admit now, -that you have been in grave danger the last twelve days. Happily all is -over, you are saved and I thank God on my knees and adore you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_272" id="page_272"></a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Wednesday morning, August 4th, 1858</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>At last, at last, at last, beloved, I have reached the blessed moment -when I shall see you again! I am so happy that words and breath fail me. -Oh, my adored one, how have I managed to live so far away and separated -from you for so long! Three weeks ago I should have thought such a -sacrifice beyond my strength, yet to-day I am almost afraid I am seeing -you too soon; for my solicitude takes fright at the idea of any -imprudence that might augment or prolong the sufferings you have only -just overcome. The worthy doctor assures me there is no risk for you in -the short walk from your house to mine, but I have been so wretched -during your illness, and I love you so much, that my heart knows not to -whom to hearken. My beloved, my joy, my life, my happiness, be prudent! -I adore you, I await you, my love.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Monday, 8 a.m., June 13th, 1859</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp272_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp272_sml.jpg" width="278" height="461" alt="JULIETTE DROUET’S HAND." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">JULIETTE DROUET’S HAND.</span> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, my adored one. I say it with all the tenderness which had -to be disguised owing to the presence of your kind and charming son, -during the lovely fortnight we have spent at Sark. Everything there was -a feast for mind and heart. One thing only was lacking for my complete -happiness; freedom to love you aloud and in all frankness. Now there -need be no obstacle to the passionate expansion of my soul, but it is in -the silence and solitude of my house, without the joys, smiles, -sparkling wit, and poetical atmosphere you and your son spread before<a name="page_273" id="page_273"></a> -my dazzled eyes, during the splendid fortnight I spent with you both; so -true is it that one cannot have everything at the same time here below, -and that perfect happiness is attained only in Heaven. But while our two -souls are travelling thither, the one assisting the other, I am grateful -to God for the radiant fortnight He has just given me. I thank Him with -a full heart, and beseech Him to repay you and your dear Charles with as -many fruitful and glorious years as you have given me days of happiness -in the tender intimacy of Sark. As usual, my words are inadequate to -express my feelings, but you will understand, my beloved, and restore -the balance between the two.</p> - -<p>I hope you spent a good night, my sweet love. I am waiting for you to -give you as many kisses as you are able to carry. Until then I adore you -with all my soul.</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Tuesday, June 14th.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>May God preserve you from all evil, my beloved, and permit my love and -blessing to constitute the whole happiness of your life.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Thursday, 4.30 p.m., February 16th, 1860</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>You sat at this very spot just now, my sweet love, writing in my little -red book, (record of our love), the very things my own heart feels and -would have dictated to you, could it have spoken aloud—so certain is it -that my life belongs absolutely to you, and that my thoughts take birth -from your glances.<a name="page_274" id="page_274"></a> Like you, I have faith in our radiant future in the -life beyond; like you, I pray to die as near you as possible, cradled in -your arms, whenever it please Heaven. If I hearkened only to the voice -of my selfishness, I should plead that it might be now, but I am too -conscious of the sublime mission you are called upon to accomplish -towards humanity in this world, to dare put up such an impious petition. -I will wait bravely, patiently, reverently, in prayer and adoration, -until it please God to call us unto Himself.</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday evening, 7.30.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I resume my scribble where I left it when you came back this afternoon, -my darling beloved—not to add anything of value, but to continue for my -own pleasure the sweet dialogue between my heart and my love. I thank -you for our dear twenty-seventh anniversary, which you made memorable by -words so luminous and a tenderness so penetrating and sacred. I thank -you for myself, whose pride and joy and veneration you are; I thank you -on behalf of my nephew and his family, for the immense honour you have -conferred upon them by writing to their son. Lastly, my beloved, I kiss -your feet, your hands, your lips, your eyes, your brow, and I only cease -through fear of wearying you by this over-flow of caresses.</p> - -<p>I love you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Mont St. Jean</span>,<br /> -<i>Monday, 8 p.m., June 17th, 1861</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Dearly beloved. Whilst you are expanding among the tender delights of -family life, I am invoking all<a name="page_275" id="page_275"></a> my physical and moral strength to -prevent myself giving way under the sadness of your absence. As long as -my eyes could distinguish the omnibus, that is to say, as far as the -<i>Betterave Renaissante</i>, I watched your progress along the Gronendael -road. Beyond that point, I was forced to relinquish the sweet illusion -that I could still see the dear little black speck on the horizon, and -to acknowledge that nothing lay before me but the endless void of your -twenty-four hours’ absence. So, as I did not know what to do with myself -or how to kill time, I walked by a fairly easy field-path as far as the -church at Waterloo, and came back by way of the village, without however -visiting the church, notwithstanding the pressing invitation of an old -woman who called me her dear friend. I got back to the hotel at six -o’clock precisely, and spent the half hour before dinner freshening -myself up by washing from head to foot; then I put on a dressing-gown -and went down to our little dining-room, where I ate without hunger and -drank without thirst, so dismal and forlorn am I when you are no longer -present. I must have been pretty fully convinced of the impossibility of -accompanying you to Brussels without exposing your movements to -undesirable criticism, to accept the sad alternative of remaining here -alone. But that certainty is no comfort whatever, and I am just as -miserable as if it had been in my power to make the expedition with you. -Certainly, human respect is a horrid beast, more malevolent and worrying -than even midges and their poisonous sting, and all the ammonia in the -world is powerless against it.</p> - -<p>I am well fitted to make the comparison seeing that my arm is already -healed, while my heart suffers<a name="page_276" id="page_276"></a> more and more. Dear adored one, do try, -on your part, to spend profitably this interval which is costing me so -dear. Be happy; I love you, bless you, and adore you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Tuesday, 8 a.m., February 17th, 1863</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, my beloved. In full daylight and glorious sunshine, in -love and happiness, good morning. Again I greet you, like that first day -thirty years ago, when my eyes followed you along the Boulevard after -you left me. My soul winged flights of kisses to you when you looked -round for one more glance at my window before turning into the Rue du -Temple. That picture remains for ever graven upon my mind; I can assert -with truth that everything remains the same in my heart as the night I -first became yours. These thirty years of love have passed like one day -of uninterrupted adoration, and I feel now younger, more virile, and -more capable of loving you, than ever before—heart, body, soul, all are -yours, and live only by you and through you. I smile upon you, bless -you, adore you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Sunday, 10.30 a.m., April 26th, 1863</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, unutterably dear one. May all the blessings of heaven and -earth rest upon you and those you love. I slept very well and hope you -did the same. My headache has gone and I feel as sturdy as an oak-tree. -I do not in the least desire a great house whence I shall not be able to -see you<a name="page_277" id="page_277"></a> in the mornings, and I should much prefer to keep my own little -perch upon which my heart poises so happily while I watch you moving -about your home. Having made my protest, beloved, you shall dictate to -me the letter I must write to notify the landlord that he need not move -out to-morrow. We can settle when you come, what time I must be ready, -so as not to lose one second of our little walk up the hill. I am so -happy at the thought of remaining near you, that I feel as if I had -already substituted youthful wings for my old legs. Even my garden is -gay, and cries out to me by the mouths of its lovely flowers: <i>don’t go -away</i>! Health is where happiness is, and happiness means loving each -other, side by side, eyes upon eyes, soul with soul. Therefore, I shall -stay here. That is quite settled.</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Friday, 7.30 a.m., October 30th, 1863</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, good morning, and again, good morning, my dear, wide-awake -person. You must be very well to-day, judging by the energy with which -you are shaking your rugs to the four winds. I hope that signifies a -good night, good health, lively love, and all the rest of it. As for -myself, I slept little, but soundly. I got up before gun-fire this -morning, and had already finished my dressing when I saw you on your -balcony. What a privation it will be for me, my adored man, when I can -no longer watch you in the mornings, moving about your house. I do not -feel as if I should ever get accustomed to it, and I think of it with -apprehension, for there is a proverb that says, “Out of sight, out of -mind.” If<a name="page_278" id="page_278"></a> you gave up loving me, or worse, loved me less, what should I -make of life in that great empty drawing-room?</p> - -<p>At this moment, I am trying to numb these reflections by the -contemplation of the marvels you are creating in that future house of -mine; but at the bottom of my heart, I know I shall always mourn this -poor little lodging, where my eyes could watch over you, caress you, -guard you, preserve you, and adore you. The more I think of it, the more -oppressed I feel, and the more I blame myself for having exchanged the -happiness of every moment, for a comfort I shall hardly have leisure to -appreciate, and for health which did not require amelioration. My poor -beloved, forgive these regrets which are only dictated by love, and this -anxiety which also means love. Try not to let the separation of our -houses entail that of our hearts; try to love me as heartily there as -here, and do not let yourself be enticed away from me by anybody. On -those conditions I promise to live happily in the splendid rooms you -have prepared for me.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Wednesday, 1.30 p.m., June 15th, 1864</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Dearly beloved, I cannot forsake this little home where we have loved -each other for eight years, without imprinting a kiss of gratitude upon -its threshold. I have just gazed my supreme farewell at your beautiful -house, which has so long been to me the polar star of my heart’s -wanderings. Alas, I am lengthening out the moments as much as<a name="page_279" id="page_279"></a> possible; -I cannot bring myself to leave this dear little house, which I had made -the shrine of my cult for you. I should like to carry away the walls -against which you have leaned, the floors you have trodden, and even the -dust your feet have spurned. I fear lest my sadness be observed by those -who cannot understand it, and the efforts I make to seem unconcerned -increase the constriction of my heart, and drench my eyes with tears. -Oh, my adored beloved, how you will have to love me and give me all the -time at your disposal, to console me for the immense grief I am -experiencing to-day in quitting your neighbourhood, that is to say, in -losing sight of it! How you will have to double and treble and quadruple -your love, to replace the dear memories I leave behind me! May God -protect me and may the dear souls of our angels follow us to the new -home, and bless us till our last hour!</p> - -<p>I adore you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Thursday, 5.30 a.m., June 16th, 1864</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Where are you, my beloved? My eyes seek you vainly, you are no longer -there to smile upon me; it is all over—I shall never again see the -little roost whence you used to blow kisses and wave your hand so -tenderly. I am alone now in my fine house, alone for ever; for there is -no further chance in this life of having you near me. I shall never -again live in your immediate intimacy, as I have done for the past eight -years.</p> - -<p>Loyally as you may endeavour to bridge over<a name="page_280" id="page_280"></a> the distance between our -abodes by coming to me oftener in the day-time, the separation of our -two existences must ever endure. I know it by the blank depression I am -feeling this morning. I would give a hundred thousand houses and -palaces, and the universe itself, for that little slice of horizon where -my heart projected itself night and day. I am ashamed of having been so -mean-spirited as to barter my daily happiness against a chimerical -amelioration of health. I am punished for my transgression, my dearest. -I carry death in my heart. Forgive me! I would gladly smile at you, but -at this moment I feel incapable of doing so. Forgive me for loving you -too much. I hope you had a good night. I hope you gazed upon my dark, -empty house and gave it one sigh of regret. I hope you love me and are -conscious of my absence. May God preserve you from all evil, dearly -beloved, and may your love remain whole and intact in severance as in -propinquity. I bless you, and adore you. A kiss to all our dear -memories.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Sunday, 8.30 a.m., June 11th, 1865</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>It would take very little to make me stay in bed till noon. I am ashamed -of myself and well punished, for I have not seen you this morning, and -have not yet heard whether you had a good or a bad night. I hope you -were clever enough to sleep uninterruptedly from the moment you laid -your head on the pillow, till that of your uprising. I shall be very -glad if I have guessed right. Meanwhile, my<a name="page_281" id="page_281"></a> sweet treasure, I send you -a smile and a blessing. I am listening at this moment to the joyous -cheeping of my tiny chicks over a saucer of milk that has just been put -before them. I am also watching two white butterflies darting after each -other among my roses, like twin souls in Eden. The flowers are blooming, -love-making is going on all around, and my heart is overflowing with -tenderness and adoration for you. The further I progress in life, the -more I love you; you are the beginning and end of my being. I hope -everything of you, and my soul trusts you, all in all. You are my -radiant and divine beloved.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Sunday, 7.30 a.m., December 2nd, 1866</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Good-morning, my adored one, bless you. I can afford to smile on this -date, abhorred of all worthy folk: December 2nd.—because it is, for me -alone, a joyful anniversary. If my gratitude is an offence towards -humanity, I humbly ask pardon of God and man. I am tormented at the -thought that you may have slept badly. If I could be reassured on that -point, I should be quite happy this morning. Unfortunately, I can only -find out much later when you come here to bathe your dear eyes. The -mention of your eyes reminds me of your poor wife’s sight. Surely, if -the doctors were not certain of curing her, they would not keep her so -long in Paris, away from all her belongings, in winter weather? My -desire for her complete recovery of a sense of which she has made such -noble use in her beautiful book <i>Victor Hugo, raconté</i>, makes me look -upon her delay<a name="page_282" id="page_282"></a> in returning, as a happy presage of future recovery. I -ask it of Heaven, with love.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Wednesday, 8 a.m., January 1st, 1868</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>I thank you, dearest, for letting me have a share in your prayers, when -you plead to God not to separate us in life or in death. It is what I -pray all day long; it is the aspiration of my heart and the faith of my -soul. I am not a devout woman, my sublime beloved, I am only the woman -who loves and admires and reverences you. To live near you is paradise; -to die with you is the consecration of our love for all eternity. I want -to live and die with you. I, like you, crave it of God. May He grant our -joint prayers!</p> - -<p>I feel as you do, my beloved, that those two dear souls hover above us -and watch over us and bless us. I associate them with all my thoughts -and sorrows and joys, and I place my prayers under their protection, -that they may convey them direct to the foot of the Great White Throne. -I bless them as they bless me, with all that is loftiest and holiest and -most sacred in my soul. I am stopping at almost every line of this -letter to read your adorable one over again, although I already know it -by heart. I kiss it, talk to it, listen to it, and then begin all over -again. I love you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Thursday, 7 a.m., May 7th, 1868</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Dearly beloved, I am rather less worried since I have seen you and -exchanged a kiss with you; yet<a name="page_283" id="page_283"></a> I know you slept badly. I can feel that -you are ailing and sad. I pray God to give you happiness again as soon -as possible, in the form of a second little Georges all smiling and -beautiful; meanwhile, I beg Him to let my love be the balm that will -heal your wounds, until the day of resurrection of the sweet child for -whom you weep.<a name="FNanchor_112_112" id="FNanchor_112_112"></a><a href="#Footnote_112_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a></p> - -<p>I hope He will hear and grant my petitions on your behalf, and that you -will be restored to some degree of calmness and consolation. When you -write to your two dear sons, Charles and Victor, do not forget, I beg, -to thank them from me for the little portrait. Tell them I love them and -mingle my tears with theirs.</p> - -<p>I adore you, my great one, my venerated one, my sublime mourner.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Brussels</span>,<br /> -<i>Sunday, 7.30 a.m., August 2nd, 1868</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Again I have slept better than ever, beloved. I trust it has been the -same with you. I was very proud and pleased at my walk with you and your -family last night, but I felt somewhat shy and ill at ease. Please -permit me to decline any further invitations of the kind. Should the -occasion arise again, which is improbable, I think good taste and -discretion demand that I should hold myself aloof from your family -affections, and only associate myself with them at a distance, or in my -own home. As this feeling, or scruple, whichever you may like to call -it, could not be expressed in the presence of your dear<a name="page_284" id="page_284"></a> children -yesterday, I consented to go with you, while intending to call your -attention privately to the embarrassment such an incident would cause -me, if it should happen again. I think you will probably agree with me, -and approve of my sacrificing my pleasure to your tender family -intercourse.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Brussels</span>,<br /> -<i>Wednesday, 8.30 a.m., August 26th, 1868</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>My poor beloved, I pray God to spare you and your dear children the -misfortune which threatens you at this moment in the loss of your -angelic and adorable wife. I hope, I hope, I hope. I pray, I love you, I -summon all our dear angels above to her assistance and yours. I pray God -to make two equal shares of the days remaining to me, and add one to the -life of your saintly and noble wife. My beloved, my heart is wrung, I -suffer all you suffer twice over, through my love for you. I do not know -what to do. I long to go to you, I should love to take my share of the -nursing of your poor invalid, but human respect holds me back, and my -heart is heavier than ever. Suzanne has only just come from your house, -and I already want to send her back again, in the hope that she may -bring me less disquieting news than that which I have just received. Oh, -God have mercy upon us and change our anguish into joy!</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Brussels</span>,<br /> -<i>Thursday, August 27th, 1868</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>My beloved, in the presence of that soul which now sees into my -own,<a name="FNanchor_113_113" id="FNanchor_113_113"></a><a href="#Footnote_113_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a> I renew the sacred vow I<a name="page_285" id="page_285"></a> made the first time I gave myself to -you; to love you in this world and in the next, so long as my soul shall -exist, in the certainty of being sanctioned and blessed in my devotion -by the great heart and noble mind which has just preceded us, alas, into -eternity.</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Brussels</span>,<br /> -<i>Friday, 8 a.m., August 28th, 1868</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>I placed your sleep last night under the protection of your dear one, my -beloved, and implored her to remove from your dreams all painful -memories of the sad day just past. I hope she heard me and that you -slept well. Henceforth, it is to this gentle and glorious witness of -your life in this world, now your radiant protectress in Heaven, that I -will appeal for the peace and happiness you require, to finish the great -humanitarian task to which you have pledged yourself. May God bless her -and you, as I bless her and you.</p> - -<p>The more I think over to-night’s mournful journey, the more convinced I -feel that I ought not to take part in it. The pious homage of my heart -to that great and generous woman must not be exposed to a wrong -interpretation by indifferent or ill-natured critics. We must make this -last sacrifice to human malignity, in order to have the right to love -each other openly afterwards; do you not agree, my beloved? Afterwards, -may nothing ever come between us here below, nor above—such is my -ardent desire!</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Brussels</span>,<br /> -<i>Friday, 5.30 p.m., August 28th</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>My heart and thoughts are with you and your be<a name="page_286" id="page_286"></a>loved dead. I am sad and -heart-broken, not for the angelic and sublime woman who now shines out -in the world of spirits while we here below regret her, but for you, my -poor sad man, to whom she was a holy and meek companion; for your dear -children whose joy and pride she was; for myself, to whom she was ever a -discreet and considerate protectress.</p> - -<p>My heart is torn by your grief, my poor afflicted ones; my eyes rain all -the tears you are shedding. Dear treasure, I beg your wife to obtain for -you the courage you need. May her memory remain with you, sweet and -gentle and benign as was her exquisite person in life. I entrust you to -her as I confide myself to you, and I bless you both.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Tuesday, 2 p.m., February 1st, 1870</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Since I have seen you, my great beloved, I am feeling much better. Your -smile has completed my cure. It may be an illusion of my eyes and heart, -but at this moment I seem to feel the breath of spring. Perhaps it -proceeds from the nearness of the anniversary of the first performance -of <i>Lucrèce Borgia</i>, which is to be acclaimed and applauded by an -enthusiastic public to-morrow night, just as it was thirty-seven long -years ago. Bonaparte may do his best to-morrow against this magnificent -play, he will get no good out of his police-engineered cabal. I think he -will hardly dare risk such an infamous attempt, but I wish it was -already Saturday, that we might be quite easy. Meanwhile,<a name="page_287" id="page_287"></a> I love you -after the fashion of Princesse Négroni.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Monday, 8.30 a.m., February 14th, 1870</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, my dearest. Did you sleep better last night, my great, -little man? Were you warmer? How are you this morning? It is indeed -tedious to have to wait until this afternoon to hear all this. I am -trying to moderate my impatience by doing things for you. I have already -selected your two eggs, put fresh water into your finger-bowl, and a -snow-white napkin on your plate. Suzanne is making your coffee, which -perfumes the whole house, while I trace these gouty old -“pattes-de-mouche,” which are to lay all the tender nonsense of my heart -at your feet. I am beginning early, as you see, to be certain that they -arrive in time. The thaw has begun. I was quite hot in the night, though -I must admit I had taken measures to that end; so I slept excellently, -as you can judge by the state of my spirits. But what I really want you -to take note of is, that I adore you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Saturday, 7.45 a.m., May 21st, 1870</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>My heart, my eyes, my soul, are bewildered, my beloved, so overwhelmed -are they with tenderness, admiration, and happiness! What an adorable -letter, and what a marvellous surprise! How good you are to me! How -generous and charming! Words fail me, and the best I can say is: I love<a name="page_288" id="page_288"></a> -you! I love you! I threw my arms around old Mariette’s neck, and almost -embraced Marquand himself in the delirium of my delight. What a splendid -frame for that lovely little mirror! It contains everything: flowers, -birds, a shelf, little Georges’ sweet face above, and your beautiful -verses for wings. How can I thank you adequately, or describe my -gratitude? Fortunate am I to have eternity before me in which to bless -you. I kissed my dear little letter before everybody, but I would not -read it until just now when I was able to bolt my door. I always read -you thus, my adored one. My soul demands privacy for the better -understanding of your sublime words, and I never finish the reading of -them without feeling transported with love and almost prepared for the -next world. I love you!!</p> - -<p>Mariette told me you had spent a very good night. Is it really true? I -slept capitally, too, and am feeling more than well. I have been looking -about for a place for my new treasure, but have not yet decided on one. -I shall leave it to you to choose its proper place in my museum of -<i>souvenirs</i>. Meanwhile, I have covered it away from the dust and put it -in the shady drawing-room. As soon as I have read your adorable little -letter again, I shall go back and have another look at it.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp288_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp288_sml.jpg" width="292" height="458" alt="VICTOR HUGO, BY RODIN." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">VICTOR HUGO, BY RODIN.</span> -</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Friday, 5 a.m., August 18th, 1870</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>At all hazards I must send you my morning greeting, though I trust you -are sleeping too soundly to hear it. You have slept so little and so -badly for many nights, that it would be only fair that this<a name="page_289" id="page_289"></a> night -should be long and good. As for me, I hardly slept at all, but I do not -mind and am hardly surprised, as it is a habit of mine. But the thing I -feel I cannot become inured to, is the apprehension of the perils you -are about to encounter on your journey to Paris, ranging from the loss -of your wealth to the death of your love for me—either would finish me. -I think with terror of the tortures of all kinds I shall undergo there; -my courage fails me and craves mercy in anticipation. I have fought all -night against the wicked temptation to desert my post in a cowardly -manner before even meeting the enemy—not an enemy that can be fought -with fire and blood, but one that stabs you smiling. But I have not even -the courage of cowardice; I am ready to suffer a thousand deaths if only -I can preserve you from a single danger. You must live at any cost, that -you may be enabled to complete your glorious task, and be happy, no -matter how or with whom. My duty is to devote myself to that end, -whatever betide. If I go under in the execution of it, so much the worse -for me, or possibly, so much the better. To serve you and love you is my -mission in this world—the rest does not concern me.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Thursday morning, July 20th, 1871</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>This is your patron-saint’s day, my great beloved. Others will -congratulate you with flowers and music and expressions of admiring -gratitude and emotion, but nobody will love you more than I do, or bless -and adore you as you deserve to be loved, blessed and adored!<a name="page_290" id="page_290"></a></p> - -<p>I hope this anniversary may be the beginning of a new year less sinister -and sad than the last, and that your dear grandchildren will give you as -much joy and happiness as you have had sadness and misfortune in the -past. I say this hastily, as best I can, with emotion in my old heart -and thrills of joy in my soul. As I sit scribbling, I hear your voice -calling me and I rush towards you just as in the early days of our love.</p> - -<p>I kiss your hair, your eyes, your lips, your hands, your feet. I adore -you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Thursday, 10.15, January 18th, 1872</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning, my great and venerated one. I kiss one by one the wounds -of your heart, praying God to heal those that ache worst. I beg Him to -give me strength to help you carry your heavy cross to the end. I ask -Him, above all, to give me that which, alas, is lacking in my nature, -namely, that infinite gentleness without which the most perfect devotion -is unavailing. Since the day before yesterday, my poor, sublime martyr, -my heart has been wrung by the new blow that has fallen upon you,<a name="FNanchor_114_114" id="FNanchor_114_114"></a><a href="#Footnote_114_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a> -and I weep helplessly, without power to check my tears. God Who gave you -genius makes you pay heavy toll for that favour, by overwhelming your -life with the pangs of sorrow. My beloved, I beg you to tell me how I -may serve you. I will do<a name="page_291" id="page_291"></a> anything you desire. I will use my whole heart -and strength in your service.</p> - -<p>I love you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>8 a.m., Monday, February 26th, 1872</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>This is your birthday, beloved—the anniversary of anniversaries, -acclaimed in Heaven by the great men of genius who preceded you upon -earth, and blessed by me ever since the day I first gave myself to you. -We used to celebrate it with all the sweetest instruments of love; -kisses, words of endearment, letters, all were pressed into service to -make this date, February 26th, a perfume, an ecstasy, a ray of sunshine. -To-day these winged caresses have flown to other realms, but there -remains to us the solemn devotion that better becomes the sacred -marriage of two souls for all eternity. In the name of that devotion I -send you my tenderest greetings and beg you to let me know how you spent -the night. I hope your little breach of regulations yesterday did not -prevent you from sleeping. As for me, I slept little, but I am quite -well this morning, thanks to the influence of this radiant date. I ask -little Georges and little Jeanne to kiss you for me as many times as you -have lived minutes in this world. My dearly beloved, I bless you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Saturday, 2 p.m., April 13th, 1872</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>This is a day of sunshine: God, in His Heaven above, and little Jeanne -under my roof. I hardly<a name="page_292" id="page_292"></a> know—or rather, perhaps I do know which is the -brighter of the two, but I am not going to tell you, for fear of making -you too proud. What a beautiful day, and what an adorable little girl! -But what a pity we cannot all enjoy these spring-time delights together, -walking and driving, in town and country-meadows. I am really afraid the -good God will weary of us and pronounce the fatal dictum: “<span class="smcap">IT IS TOO -LATE</span>” when at last we make up our minds to take our share of life, -sunshine, and happiness. The terrible part is that whether innocent or -guilty we shall all suffer alike for <i>your</i> transgression, for divine -justice is very like that of man. As for me, I enter my protest from my -little retreat, but it serves no purpose except that of an idle pastime; -it does not even keep me from adoring you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Tuesday, 12 noon, November 18th, 1873</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>My beloved, I do not desire to turn your successes into a scourge for -your back, but I cannot help feeling that my old-fashioned devotion cuts -a sorry figure amongst the overdressed <i>cocottes</i> who assail you -incessantly with their blandishments and invitations. This fantastic -chase has gone on for a long time without extorting from you any sign of -weariness or satiety. As for me, I long only for repose—if not in this -life (which seems difficult in my case to obtain), then in the -immobility of death, which cannot long be delayed at the pace I am -going. I ask your permission to begin preparing for it by giving up my -daily letters. That will be something gained; the rest will come -gradually, little by little, till one fine<a name="page_293" id="page_293"></a> day we shall find ourselves -quite naturally on the platform of indifference, or of reason, as you -will prefer to call it. From to-day on, therefore, I place the key of my -heart on your doorstep, and will wander away alone in the direction of -God.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Friday, 11.15 a.m., December 26th, 1873</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Dear adored one. All your desires in life, as well as mine, are granted -to-day if your dear Victor has spent a good night, as I hope. I am -anxiously waiting for Mariette’s return to know how the dear invalid -is....</p> - -<p>My poor beloved, I am in despair—I have just seen Mariette, who tells -me that your poor son is in high fever at this moment.<a name="FNanchor_115_115" id="FNanchor_115_115"></a><a href="#Footnote_115_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a> I do not -know how to tell you; I do not think I shall have the strength to do so. -Dr. Sée has been sent for and Mariette has just gone back to hear what -he thinks of this relapse. Oh, Heaven have mercy on us! I hardly dare -breathe or even weep, so greatly do I dread betraying to you the -misfortune which threatens you, my beloved. How can I ward off the fate -that is hanging over you? What can I say or do? My brain reels! Ought I -to tell you everything—would it be wrong to conceal from you the -imminent sorrow that is going to wring your heart once more? I know not, -but I lack the courage either to speak or to be silent; I am in despair, -yet I dare not make moan. I suffer, I adore you. Pity me, as I pity you. -Let us love each other<a name="page_294" id="page_294"></a> under this cruel trial, as we should if Heaven -were opening its gates to us.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Monday, 5 o’clock p.m., December 29th, 1873</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Go, dearest, try to find in a solitary walk, which may prove fruitful to -the world, some solace for the painful agitation of your heart. My -thoughts follow you lovingly and bless every one of your steps. Do not -worry about me in the new arrangements of your life. Whatever you settle -shall be accepted by me. For forty-one years I have followed that -programme, and I will do so now, more than ever. Provided you love me as -I love you, I desire nothing more from God or you. The advice I give -you, apart from my own personal concerns, is always practical and in -your own interest and that of your dear grandchildren. I should feel I -had failed in my duty if I kept the least of my ideas from you, whether -good or bad, insignificant or stupid. I love you and adore you, body, -heart and soul.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Tuesday, 12.30 p.m., February 17th, 1874</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Dear one, there is rather more bustle about us than usual on this our -sweet and sacred anniversary. We have the little excitement of your two -adorable grandchildren, which we had not expected, but which is all the -more delightful for that. The perfection of happiness would have been to -take them ourselves to that famous circus which little Georges already<a name="page_295" id="page_295"></a> -knows, and little Jeanne dreams of; but the bad weather and the remains -of my influenza counsel a pusillanimous prudence. It is not without -regret, beloved, that I impose this sacrifice of one of our most -precious joys upon you, but I feel I cannot do otherwise to-day. As for -the dear little things, their pleasure will, fortunately, not be marred -in any way. So long as they can revel in the antics of Mr. and Mrs. -Punch and their august family, they will not mind whom they go with. -That being the case, Mariette is a sufficient escort to the promised -land of Auriol and Punch.</p> - -<p>As for ourselves, dearest, I trust that our two souls, communing -together, will not miss those fascinating little witnesses of our love -over much.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Wednesday, 7 p.m., March 11th, 1874</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>He whose heart is younger than his years suffers all the sorrows of his -age. This aphorism contains in a few words the secret of the turmoil I -involuntarily bring into your life, while I myself suffer like a soul in -damnation. Still, I must not allow this ridiculous folly to be an -annoyance to you; I must and will get the better of it, and leave you -your liberty, every liberty, especially that of being happy whenever and -however you like. Otherwise, my poor beloved, you will very shortly come -to hate the sight of me. I know it, and it terrifies me in anticipation. -So I am determined to crush my heart at all costs, that I may restore -peace and happiness to yours.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p><a name="page_296" id="page_296"></a></p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Saturday, 1.45 p.m., April 4th, 1874</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>I thank you dear one, for having been loyal enough to tell me this -morning that you had written another poem to Madame M. I thank you also -for having offered to read it to me, and not to send it to her till -afterwards. I accepted this respite in the first instance, but I -realised later that <i>what is delayed is not lost</i>, and that I should -gain nothing by struggling against being bracketed with this <i>statue -inhabited by a star</i>, and that I was simply putting myself in the absurd -position of the ostrich that tries to avert danger by hiding his head in -the sand. Therefore beloved, I beg you to act quite freely, and to send -the verses dedicated to your beautiful muse whenever you like. Once the -poetry has been written, it is quite natural that you should intoxicate -each other without consideration for me. Besides, in my opinion, -infidelity does not consist in action only; I consider it already -accomplished by the sole fact of desire. That being settled, my dear -friend, I beg you to behave exactly as you like, and as if I were no -longer in the way. I shall then have leisure to rest from the fatigues -of life before taking my departure for eternity. Try and be happy if you -can.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp296_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp296_sml.jpg" width="291" height="458" alt="JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1877." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1877.</span> -</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Thursday, 7 a.m., April 11th, 1874</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Permit me, my great beloved, to offer you my three-score years and ten, -freshly completed this morning. Give the poor old things a friendly -reception, for they are as blazing with love for you now, as if they had -only been born yesterday. I commission little Jeanne<a name="page_297" id="page_297"></a> to give you -seventy million kisses for me to-day, not one less, but a few more if -she likes. I hope little Georges’ nose has not bled since yesterday, and -that he slept well like the rest of you. I slept like a top, and am -splendid this morning. I feel a degree of youthfulness that must proceed -from the seventy springs I have absorbed so freely. The sky itself -contributes its birthday greeting by pouring its measure of sunshine -upon us. Therefore, long live love, for us in the first place, (for a -little selfishness will not harm happiness,) and in the second, long -live love for all whom we love. May you be blest, my beloved, in all -those you care for. I adore you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Thursday, 10.45 p.m., May 7th, 1874</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Dear, dear one, the separation I dreaded as a veritable calamity is now -an accomplished fact. God grant it may not be the beginning of the end -of my happiness. My heart is full of sad presentiment. The distance that -separates us is like a broken bridge between our hearts, over which -neither joy nor hope may pass henceforth. I cherish no illusion; from -this evening forward, all intimacy between us is over, and my sweet -horizon of love is for ever clouded. I try to give myself courage by -reflecting that the happiness I lose is gained by you in the affection -of your two dear grandchildren. I tell myself that this compensation -should be sufficient for me; still I am in despair, and I can hardly -help shedding floods of tears, as if some irreparable misfortune had -befallen me when you walked away just now. I accustomed myself far too -speedily to a happiness<a name="page_298" id="page_298"></a> that was only lent to me for a little while. -But however short-lived it proved, I bless you, and pray God to turn my -regrets and sorrow into a future of joy and kisses and ecstasy for you -and your two little angels.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>9.30 a.m., Sunday, June 21st, 1874</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>I had hoped that nothing would happen to disturb the sanctity of this -sad anniversary,<a name="FNanchor_116_116" id="FNanchor_116_116"></a><a href="#Footnote_116_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a> and had counted on the assistance of the angels of -death to defend me from the aggressions of the devils of life. Alas, I -was sadly at fault, for never was a more audacious or more cynical -attempt made against my peace of mind. One might think that the mangled -remains of my poor heart were a target for the arrows of those -emissaries of vice! I declare myself vanquished without a fight, and ere -my reason finally succumbs, I mean to place my bruised heart in shelter, -far from the flattering intrigues of which you are the fortunate hero.</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>3 p.m.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>You wish me not to be anxious, not to relinquish a tussle in which I am -unarmed? It is more generous than wise on your part, for what happened -to-day, happened yesterday, and will again to-morrow, and I have no -strength left, either physical or moral. This martyrdom of Sisyphus, who -daily raises his love heavenward only to see it fall back with all its -weight upon his heart, inspires me with horror, and I prefer death a -thousand times over, to such torture. Have<a name="page_299" id="page_299"></a> mercy upon me! Let me go! It -shall be wherever you will. Do not run the risk for yourself and me of -my committing some frightful act of folly. I ask you this in the name of -your daughter and mine—in the name of little Georges and your dear -little Jeanne. Give me a chance to recover from these reiterated -attacks. I assure you it is the only remedy possible, or capable of -effecting my cure. You will hardly notice my absence; the children of -your blood, and those of your genius, and the rest, will easily fill the -void of my absence, and meanwhile I shall regain calmness. I shall -become resigned and perhaps be cured, and in any case it will be a -respite for you as well as for me. I assure you my treasure, that it -will be a good thing for you. I beg you to let me try it. The abuse of -love, like the abuse of health, brings suffering and death in its train. -The soul may have a plethora, as well as the body. Mine suffocates under -its own weight. Let me try to lighten it in solitude and the -contemplation of our past happiness. I beg and implore it of you—I ask -it in the name of those you mourn and love.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Monday, 6 p.m., February 16th, 1875</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>My dearest, your letter burns and dazzles me, and I feel humbled by it, -because physically I know myself to be so far beneath your ideal; but -morally, when I look inward and see my soul as your love has transformed -it, I am arrogant enough to think myself above it, and to have no fear -of the moment when I may reveal to you its resplendent purity in the -eyes of God. Pending this, sublime and<a name="page_300" id="page_300"></a> divine treasure of mine, you -must shut your eyes to the sad reality of my old, sickly body, and await -with patience the rejuvenation promised in Heaven. I pray God to allow -me to live as long as you, because I do not know how I could exist a -single minute without you, even in Paradise with our holy angels. I hope -He will grant my ardent prayer, and that we shall die and rise again -together on the same day and at the same hour. To ensure this, I must -put my health on a level with yours, which will be difficult, for I am -very feeble. I try to, every day, without much success so far, but I am -counting on the spring to give me a push up the hill, so that I may -continue to pace the road at your side. This evening, if nobody comes, -and if Madame Charles leaves us early, I shall beg you to let me do <i>Le -Passus</i> with you. I should like to celebrate the day by something brave -and wholesome. I hope I shall manage it. I love you, bless you, and -adore you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Guernsey</span>,<br /> -<i>Tuesday, 7.45 a.m., April 21st, 1875</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Good morning my great, good, ineffable, adorable beloved. I pray Heaven -to bless you in Heaven as I bless you here below. I hope you slept as -well as I did, that you bear me no grudge for the irritability born of -excessive fatigue, and that you do not love me less on account of it. My -confidence in your inexhaustible indulgence lends me courage to proceed -with the sad business that brought me here.<a name="FNanchor_117_117" id="FNanchor_117_117"></a><a href="#Footnote_117_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</a> The thought that we -shall never return to these houses of ours, where we loved and suffered -and were happy<a name="page_301" id="page_301"></a> together, makes my heart as heavy as if we were already -attending our funerals. This fresh break between the sweet past of our -love and the short future that remains to us in this life, makes the -present very painful. But I am not unthankful for the compensations that -await us in Paris in the society of your dear grandchildren—far from -it! I shall smile upon them and bless them with my last breath, as the -tangible angels of your happiness and mine. I am doing my best to be -ready to start on Tuesday morning. I regret not being able to carry away -every relic of our love, from the soil of the garden, to the air you -breathe. By the way I have a petition to make to you, but am ready to -submit to a refusal if you do not approve of granting it. I want you to -allow me to give Louis the two splendid drawings of St. Paul and the -Cock, which are really mine to dispose of, since you gave them to me -long ago. Some mementoes are more prized by an heir than mere money, and -I should like to leave these from you to my kind and worthy nephew, if -you consent. Meanwhile, as I said before, I will bow to a refusal, even -if you give me no reason, for I adore you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Tuesday, 7.45 a.m., October 5th, 1875</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Good news from your dear little travellers. The top of the morning to -you, and long live love! The telegram, which came after I was in bed, -that is to say after eleven o’clock, is dated from Genoa, and says they -arrive the day after to-morrow at Madame Ménard’s, and will write at -once from there. Mean<a name="page_302" id="page_302"></a>while they send you thousands of kisses, of which -I make bold to reserve a share, before being quite certain that I am -meant to do so. This long delayed arrival in France heralds their speedy -return home, which is not at all displeasing to me—<i>on the contrary!</i> -My gaze, night and morning, at their dear little portraits in no degree -replaces their kisses, their sweet faces, and the joyous little shrieks -one hears all day long. At last we are touching the end of our long -abstinence and shall soon be able to devour them whole. Meanwhile I -continue to feed upon your heart, to whet my appetite.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Sunday, 5 p.m., November 21st, 1875</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Dear beloved, your promise to take me every day to Versailles, if you -are obliged to return to the Assemblée, fills my heart with such joy -that I have been humming all the merry songs I used to sing. It is long -since I have done such a thing. What would it be if some lucky event -sent us all back to Guernsey, never to leave it again ... or at least, -not for a very long time! What enchantment, what a starlit dream, if God -were to give us that bliss a second time! I think I should promptly -return to the age I was when I received your first kiss. Fortunately for -France, God will not grant this selfish wish, but He will forgive me for -entertaining it I hope, for I cannot help loving you beyond everything -in this world, and it does not hinder me from being satisfied with -whatever happiness He is pleased<a name="page_303" id="page_303"></a> to vouchsafe, so long as you are -content, and love only me, who adore you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Tuesday, 8 a.m., April 25th, 1876</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>My treasure, I pray God not to separate us in this life or the next. -That is why I am anxious to be with you in the crowd that will rush to -see and hear you at the cemetery to-day.<a name="FNanchor_118_118" id="FNanchor_118_118"></a><a href="#Footnote_118_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</a> I know by experience that -your enthusiasm borders on imprudence, so I want to press my body to -yours as closely as our souls are riveted, so that whatever befalls you -on this sad occasion, may include me. As the love animating our hearts -is identical, it is only fair that our fate should be the same. I wish -this evening were safely over, that I might be satisfied that everything -has gone off well; for I am afraid if poor Louis Blanc attends the -mournful ceremony in his present state of ill-health and weakness, he -may not be able to get through it. I shall not be easy until we are at -home again. Meanwhile I pray Heaven and our angels above to watch over -you and preserve you from all danger. I bless, love, and adore you, for -all eternity.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Wednesday, 7.30 a.m., April 26th, 1876</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>I thank you with sacred emotion, my dear one, for your inclusion of me -in the sublime and magnificent exordium you pronounced yesterday on the -noble wife of Louis Blanc. I accept it without false modesty,<a name="page_304" id="page_304"></a> because I -feel I deserve it, and I am proud and grateful for this ante-apotheosis -you made of me, a living woman, standing at the open grave of the -devoted deceased. I am sure her spirit will not have grudged it, and -that she blesses you from above, as I do from below, joining her prayers -to mine, that God may grant all grace and divine consolation to those we -love. I have already re-read your splendid oration many times to-day, -and although I know it by heart, each repetition discloses some fresh -beauty in it. My one cry is: I love you! I love you!! I love you!!! All -my heart and soul are contained in those words: I love you.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Monday, 10 a.m., November 11th, 1878.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>No, my beloved, you have no right to endanger your precious health and -risk your glorious life for nothing. “Art for art’s sake” is not -permissible in your case, and we shall oppose it strenuously, even at -the risk of curtailing your liberty. I am sorry, but there it is—you -must make up your mind to it. There are plenty of useless men in this -world who may waste their lives as they like, but you must guard and -preserve yours for as long as it pleases God to grant it to you for the -honour and happiness of humanity. So, my dear little man, I implore you -not to repeat yesterday’s imprudence, or any other, for all our sakes, -including your adorable grandchildren’s and mine whose health and life -and soul you are. When I see you so careless of yourself I cannot help -feeling you no longer love me, and that my continued presence is so -wearisome to you that you want to be<a name="page_305" id="page_305"></a> rid of it at any price. Then I -am seized with a desperate longing to deliver you of me for ever, rather -than be the involuntary accomplice of your repeated suicidal acts, which -have been ineffectual so far, not through your fault, but because God -intends you to go on living, for His greater glory and your own. May His -will be done. Amen.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp304a_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp304a_sml.jpg" width="186" height="258" alt="THE DEATHBED OF VICTOR HUGO. -Victor Hugo Museum." /></a> - -<span style="margin-left: 5%;margin-right:5%;"> </span> -<a href="images/ill_fp304b_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp304b_sml.jpg" width="185" height="260" alt="A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET. -The writing reads thus: “A la Juliette de Victor Hugo, plus charmante et -plus aimée que la Juliette de Shakespeare.” The original belongs to M. -Louis Barthou." /></a> - -<br /> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr valign="top" align="center"><td> -<span class="caption2">THE DEATHBED OF VICTOR HUGO.<br /> -Victor Hugo Museum.</span> -</td><td> -<span class="caption2">A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET.<br /> -The writing reads thus: “A la Juliette de Victor Hugo, plus charmante et<br /> -plus aimée que la Juliette de Shakespeare.”<br /> -The original belongs to M. Louis Barthou.</span></td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Villequier</span>,<br /> -<i>Friday and Saturday mornings, September 12th and 13th, 1879</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>A double letter, my beloved; to-day’s and yesterday’s, which, for want -of paper, pens and ink, I was not able to send you at the proper time, -in spite of the inexhaustible fount of my love. This morning being -better provided, I can let myself go in the happiness of being with you -in the house of your respected friends,<a name="FNanchor_119_119" id="FNanchor_119_119"></a><a href="#Footnote_119_119" class="fnanchor">[119]</a> enjoying their tender and -devoted hospitality. I am proud and yet shy of sharing it with you; -proud, because I think myself worthy, shy because I do not know how to -thank them or to prove my gratitude. Fortunately the honour and pleasure -of your presence is reward enough for those you esteem, and from whom -you accept this filial friendship, admiration, and devotion. I express -myself badly, but you are accustomed to grasp my meaning, in spite of -the lapses of my pen; so I never worry about the confusion of my -scribbles, and I end them imperturbably, as I begin them, by the sacred -words: I love you. I did not venture to ask your permission yesterday to -accompany you on your pious pilgrimage,<a name="FNanchor_120_120" id="FNanchor_120_120"></a><a href="#Footnote_120_120" class="fnanchor">[120]</a> but I add the prayers I -addressed<a name="page_306" id="page_306"></a> to God and your dear dead, to the sacrifice I was forced to -make to appearances. If you allow me, I shall go before we leave -Villequier, and kneel beside those venerated tombs, to offer under the -open sky my profound respect and eternal benediction. I shall only do it -if you consent, for I should not like to offend against good taste by -the outward manifestation of the sentiment I cherish in my heart for -your dear dead relations. I know you slept well—thanks evidently to the -calm and happy life your friends provide for you in their circle, for -which I thank and bless them from the bottom of my heart. I do not know -whether the weather will be favourable to-day for the excursion we -planned; it is foggy so far, but whatever be the state of the barometer, -I am disposed to be quite happy if you are, and to adore you without -conditions of any kind. By the way, how are you going to evade the -attentions of the mayor and corporation of Le Hâvre without hurting the -feelings of the poor workmen who implore you to go amongst them while -you are in their neighbourhood? It is not an easy problem to solve. -Luckily nothing is a difficulty to you—nor to me either when there is -any question of loving you with all my might from one end of life to the -other!</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Monday, 7 a.m., May 30th, 1880</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>How beautiful, how grand, how divine!!! I have just finished that -glorious reading, and am electrified by the elixir of your ardent -poetry; my fainting soul clings to your mighty wings, to arrest its fall -from the starry heights in which you plane, to the profound<a name="page_307" id="page_307"></a> abyss of my -ignorance. I was afraid I might disturb your sleep by the rustling of -the leaves as I cut and devoured them greedily, never noticing that -night was turning into day. Finally, fearing to be caught by you, I -dragged myself unwillingly to bed at three o’clock, and have now already -been up an hour, in triumphant health, rejuvenated by the virility of -the thoughts your inexhaustible genius pours forth without intermission -before a dazzled and grateful humanity. My hand shakes from my inward -tremor, and it is with difficulty that I finish this poor little cry of -admiration. Even my voice, if I tried to speak at this moment, could -hardly stammer out my adoration. I am in the throes of a kind of -delirium which would be painful, were it not as exquisite as the divine -love which overflows from my heart.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Tuesday, 8 a.m., November 2nd, 1880</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Beloved, Heaven decrees that in the absence of your dear departed souls, -your sweet angels here below should be restored to you to-day. Let us -bless Him with all reverence, and be solemnly happy with the memory of -those who once made our felicity, and the kisses of your adorable -grand-children, who constitute your present and future content. What joy -it is to see them once more, lovelier than ever if possible, and in -still better health. All night I listened to every sound, that I might -be the first to welcome them on the threshold. I succeeded, and was -repaid by their hugs. The sun shot forth its brightest beams in their -honour. As for you, divine grandpapa, I trust your horrid cold will -yield to the<a name="page_308" id="page_308"></a> tender caresses that await you, and that we shall have you -with us in our enjoyment. The least we can hope for is an indulgence in -unlimited caresses, after these three months of separation. I make a -start by flinging myself into your arms.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Tuesday, 9 a.m., December 14th, 1881</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>I come to fetch my heart where I left it, that is to say in yours. I -return it to you, praying you not to bruise it over much by unjust and -wounding tyrannies. My independent, proud nature has always borne them -ill, and is now in revolt. I beg you beloved, not to constitute yourself -the critic of my little personal needs. Whatever I may ask, I assure you -I shall never exceed the bounds of necessity, and never will I take -unfair advantage of your trust and generosity. The position you have -given me in your household precludes me from placing myself at a -disadvantage in the eyes of your guests by an appearance not in -consonance with your means. Therefore, please, dear great man, leave it -to my discretion to do honour to you as well as to myself. Besides, the -little time I have to spend on earth is not worth haggling about. So, my -great little man, let us be good to each other for the rest of the time -God grants us to live side by side, and heart to heart.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Paris</span>,<br /> -<i>Sunday, Noon, July 10th, 1881</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>My dear beloved, I must first of all confess the fault (if it be one) I -committed yesterday under<a name="page_309" id="page_309"></a> the influence of the universal enthusiasm -occasioned by the glorious ovation offered to you, so that you may -forgive it, even if you see fit to punish me. This is my crime. Whilst -you, still in the full flood of your emotion, were thanking the -enthusiastic crowd, the councillors of our district approached to -congratulate you and at the same time to beg for money for their -schools. Madame Lockroy sent them forty francs by Georges. Failing to -attract your attention, though they stood behind you, intent upon -presenting their money-boxes themselves, they turned to me. In my -agitated surprise, I handed them the hundred-franc note I was saving up -for my birthday. I gave the note in your name, at the same time -reminding them they had already received five hundred from you the day -before, through their mayor. He, happening to be present, confirmed my -statement. This is my transgression; if you deem it deserving of -severity you need not refund the money. If you take into account the -delirium and excitement of the occasion you will smile and give me back -my poor little mite of which I have great need. In any case you must not -scold me too much, for I am very sensitive.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Wednesday, 8 a.m., June 21st, 1882.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Beloved, thank you for taking me to-day to the mournful and sweet -<i>rendez-vous</i> of St. Mandé. I feel as if my sorrow would be less bitter, -kneeling at my child’s grave than when I am at a distance ... as if my -soul could get closer to that of my little beloved, through the earth of -her tomb, than<a name="page_310" id="page_310"></a> anywhere else. I hope you will find your dear daughter -in good health, and that we shall both return from this sacred errand -resigned to the will of God, though not consoled, for that is no longer -possible in this world. Thank you again, my adored one, for sharing with -me the sad anniversary that recalls to you the many sorrows of your own -life. I am very grateful to you, and I bless you as I love you, with all -the strength of my soul.</p> - -<p class="r"> -J.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<i>Monday, January 1st, 1883.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Dear adored one, I do not know where I may be this time next year, but I -am proud and happy to sign my life-certificate for 1883 with this one -word: I love you.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Juliette.</span><a name="FNanchor_121_121" id="FNanchor_121_121"></a><a href="#Footnote_121_121" class="fnanchor">[121]</a></p> - -<p><a name="page_311" id="page_311"></a></p> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_fp312_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp312_sml.jpg" width="281" height="189" alt="BOOK-PLATE DESIGNED FOR JULIETTE DROUET BY VICTOR HUGO. - -The original belongs to M. Louis Barthou." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">BOOK-PLATE DESIGNED FOR JULIETTE DROUET BY VICTOR HUGO.<br /> -The original belongs to M. Louis Barthou.</span> -</p> - -<h3><a name="APPENDIX" id="APPENDIX"></a>APPENDIX</h3> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><p class="hang"><a name="I" id="I"></a>I. LIST OF THOSE OF VICTOR HUGO’S POEMS<br /> -WHICH WERE INSPIRED BY JULIETTE<br /> -DROUET.<a name="FNanchor_122_122" id="FNanchor_122_122"></a><a href="#Footnote_122_122" class="fnanchor">[122]</a></p></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">A. <i>LES CHANTS DU CRÉPUSCULE</i></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XIV.</td><td>Oh! n’insultez jamais (September 6th, 1835).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXI.</td><td>Hier la nuit d’été (May 21st, 1835).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXII.</td><td>Nouvelle chanson sur un vieil air (February 28th, 1834).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXIII.</td><td>Autre chanson.</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXIV.</td><td>Oh! pour remplir de moi (September 19th, 1834).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXV.</td><td>Puisque j’ai mis ma lèvre (January 1st, 1835).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXVI.</td><td>Or Mademoiselle J. (March 1st, 1835).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXVII.</td><td>La pauvre fleur (December 7th, 1834).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXVIII.</td><td>Au bord de la mer (October 7th, 1834).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXIX.</td><td>Puisque nos heures sont remplies (February 19th, 1835).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXXIII.</td><td>Dans l’église de.... (October 25th, 1834).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXXVI.</td><td>Puisque Mai tout en fleurs (May 21st, 1835).<a name="page_312" id="page_312"></a></td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><i>B. LES VOIX INTÉRIEURES</i></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">VI.</td><td>Oh! vivons disent-ils (March 4th, 1837).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">VIII.</td><td>Venez que je vous parle (April 21st, 1837).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">IX.</td><td>Pendant que la fenêtre était ouverte (February 26th, 1837).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XI.</td><td>Puisqu’ici-bas toute âme (May 19th, 1836).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XVI.</td><td>Passé (April 1st, 1835).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XVII.</td><td>Soirée en mer (November 9th, 1836).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XII.</td><td>Or Ol ... (May 26th, 1837).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXX.</td><td>Or Olympio (October 15th, 1835).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXXI.</td><td>La tombe dit à la rose (June 3rd, 1837).</td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><i>C. LES RAYONS ET LES OMBRES</i></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXII.</td><td>Guitare (March 14th, 1837).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXIII.</td><td>Autre guitare (July 18th, 1838).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXIV.</td><td>Quand tu me parles de gloire (October 12th, 1837).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXVII.</td><td>Oh! quand je dors, viens auprès de ma couche (June 19th, 1839).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXVIII.</td><td>A une jeune femme (May 16th, 1837).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXV.</td><td>Or cette terre où l’on ploie (May 20th, 1838).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXXIII.</td><td>L’Ombre (March 1839).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXXIV.</td><td>Tristesse d’Olympio (October 21st, 1837).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XLI.</td><td>Dieu qui sourit et qui donne (January 1st, 1840).</td></tr> -<tr><td colspan="2" align="center"> <br /> -<a href="images/ill_fp312_lg.jpg"> -<br /> -<img class="enlargeimage" -src="images/enlarge-image.jpg" -alt="" -width="18" -height="14" /> -<br /> -<img src="images/ill_fp312_sml.jpg" width="281" height="189" alt="BOOK-PLATE DESIGNED FOR JULIETTE DROUET BY VICTOR HUGO. -The original belongs to M. Louis Barthou." /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">BOOK-PLATE DESIGNED FOR JULIETTE DROUET BY VICTOR HUGO.<br /> -The original belongs to M. Louis Barthou.</span><br /> -</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><i>D. LES CONTEMPLATIONS</i></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Book II</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">II.</td><td>Mes vers faisaient doux et frêles....</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">V.</td><td>Hier au soir</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XIII.</td><td>Viens, une flute invisible</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XV.</td><td>Parole dans l’ombre</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XVII.</td><td>Sous les arbres<a name="page_313" id="page_313"></a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XX.</td><td>Il fait froid</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXI.</td><td>Il lui disait: Vois-tu, si tous deux nous pouvions</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXIII.</td><td>Après l’hiver</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXIV.</td><td>Que le sort quel qu’il soit vous trouve toujours grande</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXV.</td><td>Je respire où tu palpites</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXVII.</td><td>Oui, va prier à l’église</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXVIII.</td><td>Un soir que je regardais le ciel</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Book V</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XIV.</td><td>Claire P....</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXIV.</td><td>J’ai cueilli cette fleur pour toi sur la colline</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Book VI</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">VIII.</td><td>Claire</td></tr> - -<tr><td> </td></tr> -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><i>E. TOUTE LA LYRE</i></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="center" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Book VI. L’amour</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">I.</td><td>Lorsque ma main frémit</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">II.</td><td>Oh, si vous existez, mon ange, mon génie (March 10th, 1833).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">III.</td><td>Vois-tu, mon ange, il faut accepter nos douleurs (January 1st, 1835).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">IV.</td><td>Vous m’avez éprouvé (June 23rd, 1843).</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XV.</td><td>Étapes du cœur.</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">VII.</td><td>A J—— et</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">IX.</td><td>Qu’est-ce que cette année emporte</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XVII.</td><td>N’est-ce pas mon amour</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXXI.</td><td>Oh dis, te souviens-tu de cet heureux dimanche</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXXIV.</td><td>Garde à jamais dans ta mémoire</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XXXVI.</td><td>A une immortelle</td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right">XLVII.</td><td>Quand deux cœurs en s’aimant<a name="page_314" id="page_314"></a></td></tr> - -</table> - -<p> </p> - -<p class="c"><a name="II" id="II"></a>II. BOOKS CONCERNING JULIETTE DROUET</p> - -<p class="hang"><i>Les Belles femmes de Paris</i>, par une société de gens de lettres et de -gens du monde, Paris, 1839.</p> - -<p class="hang">Edmond Biré: <i>Victor Hugo après</i> 1830. Paris, 1879.</p> - -<p class="hang">Alfred Asseline: <i>Victor Hugo intime</i>. Paris, 1885.</p> - -<p class="hang">Richard Levelide: <i>Propos de table de Victor Hugo</i>. Paris, 1885.</p> - -<p class="hang">Gustave Rivet: <i>Victor Hugo chez lui</i>. Paris, 1885.</p> - -<p class="hang">Tristan Legay: <i>Les amours de Victor Hugo</i>. Paris, 1901.</p> - -<p class="hang">Louis Guimbaud: <i>Victor Hugo et Juliette Drouet</i> in <i>La Contemporaine</i> -of February 25th and March 10th, 1902.</p> - -<p class="hang">Léon Séché: <i>Juliette Drouet</i> in the <i>Revue de Paris</i> of February 1st, -1903.</p> - -<p class="hang">Wellington Wack: <i>The Story of Juliette and Victor Hugo</i>. London and -Paris (no date, about 1906).</p> - -<p class="hang">Juana Richard Levelide: <i>Victor Hugo intime</i>. Paris, 1907.</p> - -<p class="hang">Hector Fleischmann: <i>Une Maîtresse de Victor Hugo</i>. Paris, 1912.</p> - -<p class="hang">Jean Pierre Barbier: <i>Juliette Drouet, Sa Vie, son Oeuvre</i>. Paris, 1913.</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p class="c"><a name="III" id="III"></a>III. WORKS OF ART REPRESENTING JULIETTE DROUET</p> - -<p class="hang">“Juliette Drouet in 1827.” Statuette by Chaponnière. Only one proof is -known to us; it belongs to M. Daniel Baux Bovy, ex-curator of the Musée -de Genève.</p> - -<p class="hang">“Juliette Drouet in 1830.” Portrait in oils by Champmartin (Musée Victor -Hugo).</p> - -<p class="hang">“Juliette Drouet as Princesse Négronie.” Coloured engraving in the -Martini series.<a name="page_315" id="page_315"></a></p> - -<p class="hang">“Juliette Drouet.” Engraving by Léon Maël, in <i>L’Artiste</i>, 1832.</p> - -<p class="hang">“Juliette Drouet in 1846.” Plaster bust by Victor Vilain (Musée Victor -Hugo).</p> - -<p class="hang">“Juliette Drouet at Jersey and Guernsey.” Numerous photographs belonging -to Messrs. Blaizot and Planès.</p> - -<p class="hang">“Juliette Drouet in 1882.” Drawing by Vuillaume in <i>Le Monde Illustré</i> -of December 15th, 1882.</p> - -<p class="hang">“Juliette Drouet in 1883.” Portrait in oils by Bastien Lepage; exhibited -in the Salon, 1883; now included in the Pereira Collection.</p> - -<p><a name="page_316" id="page_316"></a></p> - -<p><a name="page_317" id="page_317"></a></p> - -<h3><a name="INDEX" id="INDEX"></a>INDEX</h3> - -<p class="cb"><a href="#A">A</a>, -<a href="#B">B</a>, -<a href="#C">C</a>, -<a href="#D">D</a>, -<a href="#F">F</a>, -<a href="#G">G</a>, -<a href="#H">H</a>, -<a href="#J">J</a>, -<a href="#K">K</a>, -<a href="#L">L</a>, -<a href="#M">M</a>, -<a href="#O">O</a>, -<a href="#P">P</a>, -<a href="#Q">Q</a>, -<a href="#R">R</a>, -<a href="#T">T</a>, -<a href="#V">V</a>, -<a href="#W">W</a>. -</p> - -<p class="nind"> -<a name="A" id="A"></a>Académie Française, <a href="#page_060">60-61</a><br /> -Alix, Mademoiselle, <a href="#page_267">267</a><br /> -Anges, Mother des, <a href="#page_005">5</a><br /> -<br /> -<a name="B" id="B"></a>Barthès, Monsieur de, <a href="#page_074">74</a><br /> -Bernardines, Bénédictines of Perpetual Adoration, <a href="#page_003">3</a><br /> -Bertin, Monsieur, <a href="#page_033">33</a><br /> -Biard, Madame, <a href="#page_245">245</a><br /> -Blanc, Madame Louis, <a href="#page_303">303</a><br /> -<br /> -<a name="C" id="C"></a>Chenay, Madame Julie, <a href="#page_098">98</a><br /> -Constance, Mademoiselle, <a href="#page_253">253</a><br /> -<br /> -<a name="D" id="D"></a>Dédé, Mademoiselle, <a href="#page_232">232</a><br /> -Démousseaux, Madame, <a href="#page_218">218</a><br /> -Dorval, Madame, <a href="#page_012">12</a>, <a href="#page_049">49</a>, <a href="#page_142">142</a><br /> -<i>Drouet, Juliette</i>:<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her birthplace, <a href="#page_001">1</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Childhood, <a href="#page_003">3</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Becomes Pradier’s mistress, <a href="#page_008">8</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gives birth to a daughter, <a href="#page_008">8</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Enters theatrical world, <a href="#page_009">9</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Meets Victor Hugo, <a href="#page_013">13</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Plays Princesse Negroni, <a href="#page_017">17</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Falls in love with Victor Hugo, <a href="#page_023">23</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Denial of imaginary offences, <a href="#page_119">119</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">After her first visit to <a href="#page_006">6</a>, Place Royale, <a href="#page_121">121</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Works on Les Feuilles d’Automne, <a href="#page_123">123</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Suggests leaving Victor Hugo, <a href="#page_125">125</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her fears for the future, <a href="#page_127">127</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her landlord threatens to evict her, <a href="#page_131">131</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Farewell for ever, <a href="#page_132">132</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Leaves Victor Hugo, <a href="#page_030">30</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Asks for forgiveness, <a href="#page_135">135</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Four hours before the production of <i>Angélo</i>, <a href="#page_143">143</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An hour after the triumph of <i>Angélo</i>, <a href="#page_144">144</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The house at Metz, <a href="#page_036">36</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Letters from Metz, <a href="#page_155">155</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her request for a portrait, <a href="#page_171">171</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lawsuit of Victor Hugo against the Comédie Française, <a href="#page_186">186</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cash accounts, <a href="#page_188">188</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Removes to Rue St. Anastase, <a href="#page_046">46</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alluding to the revival of <i>Hernani</i>, <a href="#page_189">189</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Revival of M<i>arion de Lorme</i>, <a href="#page_192">192</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cast for the Queen in <i>Ruy Blas</i>, <a href="#page_199">199</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Comments on <i>Didine</i>, <a href="#page_212">212</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Letter written after the catastrophe in which Victor Hugo’s eldest daughter and his son-in-law perished, <a href="#page_227">227</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Comments on a speech on deportation, <a href="#page_243">243</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Letters from Brussels, <a href="#page_251">251-283</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Residence in Jersey and Guernsey, <a href="#page_084">84</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Letters from Jersey, <a href="#page_256">256</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Letters from Guernsey, <a href="#page_265">265-286</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Letters from Paris, <a href="#page_290">290</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Death <a href="#page_114">114</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her last letter, <a href="#page_310">310</a></span><br /> -Drouet, René Henri, <a href="#page_002">2</a><br /> -<br /> -<a name="F" id="F"></a>Ferrier, Mademoiselle Ida, <a href="#page_028">28</a><br /> -Fougères, <a href="#page_001">1</a><br /><br /> -<a name="G" id="G"></a>Gautier, Théophile, his description of Juliette, <a href="#page_019">19</a> <a name="page_318" id="page_318"></a><br /> -Gauvain, Julienne Joséphine. <i>See</i> Drouet, Juliette<br /> -Georges, Mademoiselle, <a href="#page_011">11</a>, <a href="#page_012">12</a>, <a href="#page_143">143</a><br /> -Granier de Cassagnac, <a href="#page_198">198</a><br /> -Guérard, Madame, <a href="#page_184">184</a><br /> -<br /> -<a name="H" id="H"></a>Harel, Félix, <a href="#page_009">9</a>, <a href="#page_143">143</a><br /> -Hilaire, Monsieur St., <a href="#page_228">228</a><br /> -Hugo, Charles, <a href="#page_092">92</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">death, <a href="#page_105">105</a></span><br /> -Hugo, François, <a href="#page_092">92</a>, <a href="#page_293">293</a><br /> -Hugo, Victor (<i>see also</i> Drouet, Juliette)<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Meets Juliette, <a href="#page_013">13</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Revival of <i>Hernani</i>, <a href="#page_057">57</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Becomes an Academician, <a href="#page_062">62</a>, <a href="#page_216">216</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His opening speech, <a href="#page_065">65</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lives at Jersey and Guernsey, <a href="#page_094">94</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Elected a member of the Assemblée Nationale, <a href="#page_105">105</a></span><br /> -Hugo, Madame Victor, <a href="#page_016">16</a><br /><br /> -<a name="J" id="J"></a>Joly, Anténor, <a href="#page_202">202</a><br /> -Juliette, Mademoiselle. <i>See</i> Drouet, Juliette<br /> -<br /> -<a name="K" id="K"></a>Kock, Madame, <a href="#page_030">30</a><br /> -Kraftt, Madame, <a href="#page_133">133</a><br /> -<br /> -<a name="L" id="L"></a>Lanvin, Madame, <a href="#page_123">123</a>, <a href="#page_227">227</a><br /> -Lespinasse, Mademoiselle de, <a href="#page_187">187</a><br /> -Lockroy, Madame, <a href="#page_309">309</a><br /> -Luthereau, Madame, <a href="#page_086">86</a><br /> -Luxembourg, <a href="#page_067">67</a><br /> -<br /> -<a name="M" id="M"></a>Mars, Mademoiselle, <a href="#page_142">142</a><br /> -Maxime, Mademoiselle, <a href="#page_226">226</a><br /> -Mechtilde, Mother Ste., <a href="#page_005">5</a><br /> -Ménard, Madame, <a href="#page_301">301</a><br /> -Meurice, Paul, <a href="#page_104">104</a><br /> -<br /> -<a name="O" id="O"></a>Orléans, Duc d’, <a href="#page_225">225</a><br /> -<br /> -<a name="P" id="P"></a>Pasquier, Monsieur, <a href="#page_144">144</a><br /> -Pierceau, Madame, <a href="#page_144">144</a>, <a href="#page_218">218</a><br /> -Pradier, Claire, <a href="#page_069">69</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">death, <a href="#page_082">82</a></span><br /> -Pradier, James, <a href="#page_007">7</a>;<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">makes Juliette his mistress, <a href="#page_008">8</a>;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">writes to Juliette, <a href="#page_073">73</a>, <a href="#page_123">123</a></span><br /> -<br /> -<a name="Q" id="Q"></a>Quelen, Monsignor, Archbishop of Paris, <a href="#page_007">7</a><br /> -<br /> -<a name="R" id="R"></a>Récamier, Madame, <a href="#page_144">144</a><br /> -<br /> -<a name="T" id="T"></a>Teleki, <a href="#page_267">267</a><br /> -<i>Tudor, Marie</i>, <a href="#page_137">137</a><br /> -<br /> -<a name="V" id="V"></a>Verdier, Monsieur, <a href="#page_144">144</a><br /> -<br /> -<a name="W" id="W"></a>Watteville, Madame, <a href="#page_073">73</a>, <a href="#page_123">123</a><br /> -</p> - -<p class="cu"> - -<i>Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.</i> - </p> - -<p><a name="page_319" id="page_319"></a></p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="c">THE PRINCESS MATHILDE BONAPARTE</p> - -<p class="hang">By <span class="smcap">Philip W. Sergeant</span>, Author of “The Last Empress of the French,” -etc.</p> - -<p class="c"><i>Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, fully illustrated, 16/-net.</i></p> - -<p>Princess Mathilde Bonaparte, the niece of the great Emperor, died only -ten years ago. She was the first serious passion of her cousin, the -Emperor Napoleon III, and she might have been, if she had wished, -Empress of the French. Instead, she preferred to rule for half a century -over a <i>salon</i> in Paris, where, although not without fault, she was -known as “the good princess.”</p> - -<p class="c">FROM JUNGLE TO ZOO</p> - -<p class="hang">By <span class="smcap">Ellen Velvin</span>, F.Z.S., Author of “Behind the Scenes with Wild -Animals,” etc.</p> - -<p class="c"><i>Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, with many remarkable photographs, -6/-net.</i></p> - -<p>A fascinating record of the many adventures to which wild animals and -their keepers are subject from the time the animals are captured until -their final lodgment in Zoo or menagerie. The author has studied wild -animals for sixteen years, and writes from personal knowledge. The book -is full of exciting stories and good descriptions of the methods of -capture, transportation and caging of savage animals, together with -accounts of their tricks, training, and escapes from captivity.</p> - -<p class="c">THE ADMIRABLE PAINTER: A study of Leonardo da Vinci</p> - -<p class="hang">By <span class="smcap">A. J. Anderson</span>, Author of “The Romance of Fra Filippo Lippi,” -“His Magnificence,” etc.</p> - -<p class="c"><i>Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, fully illustrated, 10/6 net.</i></p> - -<p>In this book we find Leonardo da Vinci to have been no absorbed, -religious painter, but a man closely allied to every movement of the -brilliant age in which he lived. Leonardo jotted down his thoughts in -his notebooks and elaborated them with his brush, in the modelling of -clay, or in the planning of canals, earthworks and flying-machines. -These notebooks form the groundwork of Mr. Anderson’s fascinating study, -which gives us a better understanding of Leonardo, the man, as well as -the painter, than was possible before.</p> - -<p class="c">WOMEN OF THE REVOLUTIONARY ERA</p> - -<p class="hang">By Lieut.-Col. <span class="smcap">Andrew C. P. Haggard</span>, D.S.O., Author of “Remarkable -Women of France, 1431-1749,” etc.</p> - -<p class="c"><i>Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, fully illustrated, 16/-net.</i></p> - -<p>Lieut.-Col. Haggard has many times proved that history can be made as -fascinating as fiction. Here he deals with the women whose more or less -erratic careers influenced, by their love of display, the outbreak which -culminated in the Reign of Terror. Most of them lived till after the -beginning of the Revolution, and some, like Marie Antoinette, Théroigne -de Méricourt and Madame Roland, were sucked down in the maelstrom which -their own actions had intensified.<a name="page_320" id="page_320"></a></p> - -<p class="c"><span class="smcap">THE MEMOIRS OF THE DUKE de ST. SIMON</span></p> - -<p class="hang">Newly translated and edited by <span class="smcap">Francis Arkwright</span>.</p> - -<p><i>In six volumes, demy 8vo, handsomely bound in cloth gilt, with -illustrations in photogravure, 10/6 net each volume. (Volumes I. -and II. are now ready.)</i></p> - -<p>No historian has ever succeeded in placing scenes and persons so vividly -before the eyes of his readers as did the Duke de St. Simon. He was a -born observer; his curiosity was insatiable; he had a keen insight into -character; he knew everybody, and has a hundred anecdotes to relate of -the men and women he describes. He had a singular knack of acquiring the -confidential friendship of men in high office, from whom he learnt -details of important state affairs. For a brief while he served as a -soldier. Afterwards his life was passed at the Court of Louis XIV, where -he won the affectionate intimacy of the Duke of Orleans and the Duke of -Burgundy. St. Simon’s famous Memoirs have recently been much neglected -in England, owing to the mass of unnecessary detail overshadowing the -marvellously fascinating chronicle beneath. In this edition, however, -they have been carefully edited and should have an extraordinarily wide -reception.</p> - -<p class="c">BY THE WATERS OF GERMANY</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>By <span class="smcap">Norma Lorimer</span>, Author of “A Wife out of Egypt,” etc. With a -Preface by Douglas Sladen.</p> - -<p><i>Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, with a coloured frontispiece and 16 other -illustrations by</i> <span class="smcap">Margaret Thomas</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Erna Michel</span>, <i>12/6 net</i>.</p></div> - -<p>This fascinating travel-book describes the land of the Rhine and the -Black Forest, at the present time so much the centre of public interest. -The natural and architectural beauties of Germany are too supreme for -even the sternest German-hater to deny; and this book describes them and -the land around them well. But apart from the love-story which Miss -Lorimer has weaved into the book, a particularly great interest attaches -to her description of the home life of the men who, since she saw them, -have deserved and received the condemnation of the whole civilized -world.</p> - -<p class="c">BY THE WATERS OF SICILY</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>By <span class="smcap">Norma Lorimer</span>, Author of “By the Waters of Germany,” etc.</p> - -<p><i>New and Cheaper Edition, reset from new type, Large Crown 8vo, -cloth gilt, with a coloured frontispiece and 16 other -illustrations, 6/-.</i></p></div> - -<p>This book, the predecessor of “By the Waters of Germany,” was called at -the time of its original publication “one of the most original books of -travel ever published.” It had at once a big success, but for some time -it has been quite out of print. Full of the vivid colour of Sicilian -life, it is a delightfully picturesque volume, half travel-book, half -story; and there is a sparkle in it, for the author writes as if glad to -be alive in her gorgeously beautiful surroundings.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Her birth-certificate is drawn up in the following terms: -“On April 11th, 1806, at 3 p.m. before me, Louis Pinel, mayor of -Fougères and registrar of births, deaths, and marriages, Julien Gauvain, -tailor, aged twenty-nine, residing at Rue de la Révolution, Fougères, -presented a female child, born on the preceding day at 7 a.m., the -legitimate daughter of himself and his wife Marie Caretandet; he -declared his intention of bestowing upon her the names of -Julienne-Joséphine. The said declaration and presentation were made in -the presence of François Dorange, sheriff’s officer, aged twenty-five, -residing in Fougères, and François Paunier, gardener, aged sixty-eight, -residing in Lécousse. This certificate was duly signed by the father and -the witnesses, after the same had been read aloud to them. Signed: -Julien Gauvain, François Paunier, Dorange, and Louis Pinel.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> She posed, not, as has been stated, and as we ourselves -have erroneously printed, for statues in the towns of Lille and -Strasburg, but for numerous studies of the head and the nude which -Pradier afterwards made use of; thus the features of Julienne may be -recognised in almost all the rough studies belonging to the first -portion of Pradier’s career, which are exhibited under glass in the -museum at Geneva.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> The portrait of Victor Hugo by Devéria has often been -reproduced. It is popular. Léon Noël’s lithograph is less known. It is -to be found either in the <i>Artiste</i> in the course of the year 1832 or in -the Musée Victor Hugo. We reproduced it in the <i>Contemporaine</i> of -February 25th, 1902.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Victor Hugo, <i>Correspondance</i>. Letter to Sainte-Beuve, -August 22nd, 1833.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Victor Hugo, <i>Correspondance</i>. Letter to Sainte-Beuve, July -7th, 1831.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> <i>Lettres à la Fiancée.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Under the heading: <i>A Ol.</i> (Olympio) XII.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Théophile Gautier, <i>Portraits contemporains</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Alphonse Karr, <i>Une Heure trop tard</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> We heard it from Monsieur Benezit, who was often with -Frédérick Lemaître about the year 1872.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Théophile Gautier, <i>Portraits contemporains</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> <i>Lucrèce Borgia.</i> First note to the original edition.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> She was forty-six and beginning to grow fat. According to -Juliette, she told Victor Hugo that his mistress was deceitful, vain, -lawless, and a flirt.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> V. H. Fleischmann, <i>Une Maîtresse de Victor Hugo</i>, chap. -vii.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Nothing remains of it now, save the name and the site. All -the rest, park, garden, and dwelling, has been completely altered.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> In 1877 Madame Drouet, although seventy-one years old, -insisted upon attending the funeral of Mlle. Louise Bertin. “I wish,” -she wrote to Victor Hugo, “to show in this way that I have not forgotten -the marks of sympathy she gave you on my account in the early days of -our love” (<i>Letter of April 28th, 1877</i>).</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> This inn still exists, and is not changed in any way. It -is exceedingly modest.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> It belongs now to Madame Veuve Bigot. On the left exterior -wall a Versailles society has thought fit to place an inscription -recording that Victor Hugo once inhabited the house. Four lines of <i>La -Tristesse d’Olympio</i> follow. It would have been more correct to bracket -the name of Juliette Drouet with that of the poet, for after all it was -not he who lived there, but she.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> Here occurs the only discrepancy between <i>La Tristesse -d’Olympio</i> and the letters of Juliette. Victor Hugo writes in 1837: -“They have paved this rough, badly-laid road”; whereas Juliette, as -early as 1835, calls it <i>the pavement</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> <i>La Tristesse d’Olympio.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> See also later, in the collection of letters, the one -written under date of January 25th, 1844.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> September 27th, 1845.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> September 29th, 1845: “I wish I had the money to buy it -all before it is desecrated.” Victor Hugo understood her feeling, and a -generous impulse led him to propose to buy the house. The price asked -was six thousand francs. Very delicately Juliette refused. October 7th, -1845.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> 1834.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> December 15th, 1838.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> Théophile Gautier.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> In 1836 Victor Hugo was forced to take legal action -against the Comédie Française. He won his case the following year.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> We have proofs of this in two letters from Juliette to -Victor Hugo.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> February 1st, 1836.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> It will be remembered that Mlle. Maxime brought an action -against the Comédie and Victor Hugo on that point, which made some -considerable stir. See the articles of Monsieur Jules Claretie in <i>Le -Journal</i> of February 5th, 1902.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> <i>Les Burgraves</i> alternated in the bill with a piece by -Madame de Girardin in which Rachel played the heroine.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> May 30th, 1841.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> The removal took place in the month of February 1845. The -rent and accommodation of the apartment were about the same as at No. -14. The furnishing, which Victor Hugo wished to make somewhat more -luxurious, cost 2,256 francs, including the first quarter’s rent.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_34_34" id="Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> 1833.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_35_35" id="Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> Monsieur Léon Seche, <i>Revue de Paris</i>, February 15th, -1903.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_36_36" id="Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> Catalogue of an interesting collection of autograph -letters of which the sale took place on Saturday, November 30th, 1912, -page 21. Paris. Noël Charavay, 1912. In another note dated from Les -Metz, Victor Hugo tells Claire “that he loves her with all his heart, -and uses his best handwriting in writing to her, which is very -praiseworthy in an old student like himself.” And he adds, “I kiss both -your little peach-cheeks.” (Same, p. 22.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_37_37" id="Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> Autograph postscript by Victor Hugo to a letter to -Juliette on May 28th, 1833, quoted above.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_38_38" id="Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> Pradier did not fail to write a sermon on this occasion -full of the unction and solecisms in which he habitually excelled.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_39_39" id="Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> June 5th, 1841.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_40_40" id="Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> <i>Les Contemplations</i>, Livres V., XIV., Claire P.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_41_41" id="Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> One of the sons of the sculptor was called John.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_42_42" id="Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> April 25th, 1845.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_43_43" id="Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> April 27th, 1845.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_44_44" id="Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> The thrilling episode of Victor Hugo’s political -adventures in 1851, by which his life was placed in jeopardy through his -espousal of the cause of liberty and progress, is related by himself in -<i>L’Histoire d’un crime</i>. He was forced to go into hiding in December for -several days, and subsequently made his escape to Brussels in the -disguise of a workman. Juliette had preceded him thither, to prepare a -safe refuge for him.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_45_45" id="Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> Charles Hugo, <i>Les Hommes de l’Exil</i>, p. 104.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_46_46" id="Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> <i>Ibid.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_47_47" id="Footnote_47_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_47_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> May 18th, 1852.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_48_48" id="Footnote_48_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_48_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> This passage constitutes the portion of the Galleries of -St. Hubert situated at right angles to the two others, called -respectively, Passage du Roi, and Passage de la Reine.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_49_49" id="Footnote_49_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_49_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> May 24th, 1852.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_50_50" id="Footnote_50_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_50_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> A packet of Victor Hugo’s love-letters to Madame B. was -treacherously forwarded to her by the lady in question. They extended -over a period of seven years, 1844 to 1851. Victor Hugo had carried on -his secret intrigue with Madame B. while he was daily visiting and -corresponding with Juliette. The discovery of his duplicity almost broke -her heart.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_51_51" id="Footnote_51_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_51_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> Victor Hugo, <i>Correspondance</i>, letter to Émile Deschanel, -December 11th, 1853.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_52_52" id="Footnote_52_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_52_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> January 23rd, 1853.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_53_53" id="Footnote_53_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_53_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> It was signed by Félix Pyat, Rougée, and Jourdain.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_54_54" id="Footnote_54_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_54_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> Victor Hugo had disposed of the bulk of his furniture in -June 1852, but he had stored the things he specially valued at -Juliette’s apartment, Cité Rodier.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_55_55" id="Footnote_55_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_55_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> These remarks may be verified by the series of photographs -of the poet taken by his sons during his exile and preserved in the -Musée Victor Hugo. Some of the snapshots, as we should call them -nowadays, are an indication of the distress of the great outlaw.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_56_56" id="Footnote_56_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_56_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> <i>Victor Hugo Intime</i>, by Madame Juana Lesclide.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_57_57" id="Footnote_57_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> A young girl in bad circumstances, to whom Juliette had -given shelter under her own roof, and who thus requited the charity of -her benefactress.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_58_58" id="Footnote_58_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_58_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> Juliette Drouet was buried on May 12th, 1883, in the -cemetery of Saint Mandé, near her daughter Claire, under a marble stone -she had selected for herself in 1881. Her funeral was attended by a -large body of journalists. The speech was delivered by Auguste -Vacquerie. According to a letter she wrote to Victor Hugo on November -1st, 1881, she wished for an epitaph taken from one of the “sublime -poems” he had addressed to her. Her desire was not gratified; the tomb -does not even bear the name of our heroine.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_59_59" id="Footnote_59_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_59_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> Juliette Drouet occasionally acted as the poet’s -secretary.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_60_60" id="Footnote_60_60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_60_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> This letter is not signed. The envelope is addressed: “M. -Victor Hugo. A quarter to twelve, midnight. I am going to your house.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_61_61" id="Footnote_61_61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_61_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> Victor Hugo was then living at 6, Place Royale, in the -house which is now the Musée Victor Hugo. Juliette Drouet lived not far -away at 4, Rue de Paradis au Marais, which is now one of the sections of -the Rue des Francs-Bourgeois.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_62_62" id="Footnote_62_62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_62_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> Juliette’s furniture had just been seized, and her -landlord was threatening to evict her.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_63_63" id="Footnote_63_63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_63_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> Mlle. Mars, who was rehearsing a part in <i>Angélo</i>, at the -Comédie Française.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_64_64" id="Footnote_64_64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_64_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> There are traces of tears all over this letter.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_65_65" id="Footnote_65_65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_65_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> Eugène Hugo, brother of the poet, had just expired. See -Number XXIX of <i>Voix Intérieures, à Eugène, Vicomte Hugo</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_66_66" id="Footnote_66_66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_66_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> This is an allusion to the second poem in the <i>Voix -Intérieures</i>: “Sunt lacrimæ....”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_67_67" id="Footnote_67_67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_67_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> One of the basins in the park of Versailles.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_68_68" id="Footnote_68_68"></a><a href="#FNanchor_68_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></a> Victor Hugo had given Juliette a <i>Quintus Curtius</i> in -which he had formerly studied Latin. On the fly-leaf he had written a -few words of dedication.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_69_69" id="Footnote_69_69"></a><a href="#FNanchor_69_69"><span class="label">[69]</span></a> A critic.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_70_70" id="Footnote_70_70"></a><a href="#FNanchor_70_70"><span class="label">[70]</span></a> Juliette Drouet here enumerates the depreciation of -various stocks. The letter is of course written in a sarcastic vein -induced by <i>pique</i>.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_71_71" id="Footnote_71_71"></a><a href="#FNanchor_71_71"><span class="label">[71]</span></a> This is an allusion to the lawsuit of Victor Hugo against -the Comédie Française.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_72_72" id="Footnote_72_72"></a><a href="#FNanchor_72_72"><span class="label">[72]</span></a> Casimir Delavigne.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_73_73" id="Footnote_73_73"></a><a href="#FNanchor_73_73"><span class="label">[73]</span></a> Scribe.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_74_74" id="Footnote_74_74"></a><a href="#FNanchor_74_74"><span class="label">[74]</span></a> Juliette’s sums were always wrong.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_75_75" id="Footnote_75_75"></a><a href="#FNanchor_75_75"><span class="label">[75]</span></a> Alluding to the revival of <i>Hernani</i> at the Comédie -Française, January 20th, 1838.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_76_76" id="Footnote_76_76"></a><a href="#FNanchor_76_76"><span class="label">[76]</span></a> The revival of <i>Marion de Lorme</i> at the Comédie Française -was to take place the next evening, March 8th.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_77_77" id="Footnote_77_77"></a><a href="#FNanchor_77_77"><span class="label">[77]</span></a> Granier de Cassagnac, one of the most ardent champions of -Victor Hugo against the classical writers. The poet had introduced him -to the <i>Journal des Débâts</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_78_78" id="Footnote_78_78"></a><a href="#FNanchor_78_78"><span class="label">[78]</span></a> <i>Ruy Blas.</i> The poet had considered the propriety of -casting Juliette for the part of the Queen, and had in consequence -caused her to be engaged by the Théâtre de la Renaissance.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_79_79" id="Footnote_79_79"></a><a href="#FNanchor_79_79"><span class="label">[79]</span></a> The creator of the part of the Queen in <i>Ruy Blas</i>. The -first performance had taken place on November 8th.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_80_80" id="Footnote_80_80"></a><a href="#FNanchor_80_80"><span class="label">[80]</span></a> Anténor Joly, Manager of the Théâtre de la Renaissance. He -had intended to produce Juliette in a musical comedy.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_81_81" id="Footnote_81_81"></a><a href="#FNanchor_81_81"><span class="label">[81]</span></a> Victor Hugo had already submitted himself three times as a -candidate for the Académie and was elected the fourth time, that is to -say, the day Juliette wrote this letter. His chief adversary in the -Académie was one of his former rivals, the Vaudevilliste, Dupaty.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_82_82" id="Footnote_82_82"></a><a href="#FNanchor_82_82"><span class="label">[82]</span></a> Victor Hugo was received into the Académie by Monsieur de -Salvandy on June 3rd, 1841.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_83_83" id="Footnote_83_83"></a><a href="#FNanchor_83_83"><span class="label">[83]</span></a> The poet’s children.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_84_84" id="Footnote_84_84"></a><a href="#FNanchor_84_84"><span class="label">[84]</span></a> Victor Hugo had been elected Chancellor of the Académie -Française on the preceding June 24th. Charles Nodier was the President.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_85_85" id="Footnote_85_85"></a><a href="#FNanchor_85_85"><span class="label">[85]</span></a> François Victor Hugo, whose childhood was extremely -delicate.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_86_86" id="Footnote_86_86"></a><a href="#FNanchor_86_86"><span class="label">[86]</span></a> This is an allusion to the recent death of the Duc -d’Orléans, the friend and protector of Victor Hugo.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_87_87" id="Footnote_87_87"></a><a href="#FNanchor_87_87"><span class="label">[87]</span></a> Rehearsals of <i>Burgraves</i> at the Comédie Française.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_88_88" id="Footnote_88_88"></a><a href="#FNanchor_88_88"><span class="label">[88]</span></a> An allusion to the disagreement of the poet with Mdlle. -Maxime, to whom the Comédie Française wished to allot the part of -<i>Guachumara</i>, and whom he was afterwards able to replace by Mdlle. -Théodorine (Mme. Melingue).</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_89_89" id="Footnote_89_89"></a><a href="#FNanchor_89_89"><span class="label">[89]</span></a> This letter is written after the catastrophe at Villequier -on September 4th, 1847, in which the eldest daughter and the son-in-law -of the poet perished.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_90_90" id="Footnote_90_90"></a><a href="#FNanchor_90_90"><span class="label">[90]</span></a> This is an allusion to a journey Juliette and Victor Hugo -had just made, the account of which had been published in <i>Alpes et -Pyrénées</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_91_91" id="Footnote_91_91"></a><a href="#FNanchor_91_91"><span class="label">[91]</span></a> Probably Ulrich Guttinguer.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_92_92" id="Footnote_92_92"></a><a href="#FNanchor_92_92"><span class="label">[92]</span></a> A bronze medal representing Victor Hugo, after the -medallion by David d’Angers.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_93_93" id="Footnote_93_93"></a><a href="#FNanchor_93_93"><span class="label">[93]</span></a> This letter was written at Auteuil, where Juliette was -living, with her dying daughter, in a house belonging to the sculptor, -Pradier. Victor Hugo visited her there nearly every day.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_94_94" id="Footnote_94_94"></a><a href="#FNanchor_94_94"><span class="label">[94]</span></a> The doctor chosen by Pradier.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_95_95" id="Footnote_95_95"></a><a href="#FNanchor_95_95"><span class="label">[95]</span></a> Juliette’s own doctor.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_96_96" id="Footnote_96_96"></a><a href="#FNanchor_96_96"><span class="label">[96]</span></a> Victor Hugo was then a candidate for the Assemblée -Nationale.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_97_97" id="Footnote_97_97"></a><a href="#FNanchor_97_97"><span class="label">[97]</span></a> Victor Hugo was to make a speech that day on <i>La Misère</i>, -vide <i>Actes et Paroles</i>, <i>Avant l’Éxil</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_98_98" id="Footnote_98_98"></a><a href="#FNanchor_98_98"><span class="label">[98]</span></a> Mdlle. Rachel. Arsène Houssaye, who had recently been -appointed Director of the Comédie Française, had just introduced Victor -Hugo to the great tragedian.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_99_99" id="Footnote_99_99"></a><a href="#FNanchor_99_99"><span class="label">[99]</span></a> A speech on deportation. Vide <i>Actes et paroles</i>, <i>Avant -l’Éxil</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_100_100" id="Footnote_100_100"></a><a href="#FNanchor_100_100"><span class="label">[100]</span></a> Madame Biard.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_101_101" id="Footnote_101_101"></a><a href="#FNanchor_101_101"><span class="label">[101]</span></a> Madame Biard had sent Juliette a packet of Victor Hugo’s -letters to her.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_102_102" id="Footnote_102_102"></a><a href="#FNanchor_102_102"><span class="label">[102]</span></a> The word “to-day” is left unfinished in the original, -thus: <i>aujo</i>....</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_103_103" id="Footnote_103_103"></a><a href="#FNanchor_103_103"><span class="label">[103]</span></a> The period when Victor Hugo’s intrigue with Madame Biard -began.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_104_104" id="Footnote_104_104"></a><a href="#FNanchor_104_104"><span class="label">[104]</span></a> On December 2nd, 1851, Victor Hugo held a meeting of the -representatives of the people, at which he drew up a proclamation -addressed to the Army. On the 3rd he presided over a meeting of the -Republicans in the Faubourg St. Antoine. Word was brought that the -troops were marching on the Faubourg. Victor Hugo thereupon delivered an -impassioned appeal to his audience, which concluded in the following -terms: “On one side stand the Army, and a crime—on the other, a handful -of men, and the Right! Such is the struggle. Are you prepared to carry -it through?"—<i>Translator’s note.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_105_105" id="Footnote_105_105"></a><a href="#FNanchor_105_105"><span class="label">[105]</span></a> A troupe of actors passing through Jersey had insisted -upon playing <i>Angélo</i> before the exiled poet.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_106_106" id="Footnote_106_106"></a><a href="#FNanchor_106_106"><span class="label">[106]</span></a> Teleki, one of Victor Hugo’s friends in Jersey.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_107_107" id="Footnote_107_107"></a><a href="#FNanchor_107_107"><span class="label">[107]</span></a> Victor Hugo had taken up photography.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_108_108" id="Footnote_108_108"></a><a href="#FNanchor_108_108"><span class="label">[108]</span></a> An allusion to spiritualism to which Victor Hugo had just -fallen a prey.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_109_109" id="Footnote_109_109"></a><a href="#FNanchor_109_109"><span class="label">[109]</span></a> Adèle Hugo, daughter of the poet.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_110_110" id="Footnote_110_110"></a><a href="#FNanchor_110_110"><span class="label">[110]</span></a> Victor Hugo’s drawings. He was giving them away -indiscriminately to his friends, and Juliette was jealous.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_111_111" id="Footnote_111_111"></a><a href="#FNanchor_111_111"><span class="label">[111]</span></a> Probably one of the poems commemorating the catastrophe -of Villequier. They were collected and republished in <i>Les -Contemplations</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_112_112" id="Footnote_112_112"></a><a href="#FNanchor_112_112"><span class="label">[112]</span></a> Charles Hugo had lost his eldest son, Georges. He gave -the same Christian name to the second, who, with Petite Jeanne, figures -in <i>L’Art d’être Grand-père</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_113_113" id="Footnote_113_113"></a><a href="#FNanchor_113_113"><span class="label">[113]</span></a> Madame Victor Hugo had just died.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_114_114" id="Footnote_114_114"></a><a href="#FNanchor_114_114"><span class="label">[114]</span></a> François Victor Hugo had just been given up by the -doctors. His slow agony lasted eleven months.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_115_115" id="Footnote_115_115"></a><a href="#FNanchor_115_115"><span class="label">[115]</span></a> François Victor Hugo died in the course of the day.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_116_116" id="Footnote_116_116"></a><a href="#FNanchor_116_116"><span class="label">[116]</span></a> The anniversary of the death of Claire.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_117_117" id="Footnote_117_117"></a><a href="#FNanchor_117_117"><span class="label">[117]</span></a> The removal from <i>Hauteville Féerie</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_118_118" id="Footnote_118_118"></a><a href="#FNanchor_118_118"><span class="label">[118]</span></a> Victor Hugo was to make a speech at the funeral of Madame -Louis Blanc.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_119_119" id="Footnote_119_119"></a><a href="#FNanchor_119_119"><span class="label">[119]</span></a> A. Vacquerie and family.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_120_120" id="Footnote_120_120"></a><a href="#FNanchor_120_120"><span class="label">[120]</span></a> To the grave of Léopoldine.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_121_121" id="Footnote_121_121"></a><a href="#FNanchor_121_121"><span class="label">[121]</span></a> This letter is the last Juliette ever wrote.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_122_122" id="Footnote_122_122"></a><a href="#FNanchor_122_122"><span class="label">[122]</span></a> Monsieur Eugène Planès possesses the original editions of -<i>Chants du Crépuscule</i>, <i>Les Voix Intérieures</i>, <i>Les Rayons et les -Ombres</i>, dedicated to Juliette and annotated by herself. He has been -good enough to refer to them and verify our list in so far as the three -following collections are concerned. We have included in the selection -only the love-poems directly inspired by Juliette. We have left out the -miscellaneous pieces which were dedicated to her after they were -written, sometimes at her own request.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Juliette Drouet's Love-Letters to -Victor Hugo, by Louis Guimbaud and Juliette Drouet - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIETTE DROUET'S LETTERS *** - -***** This file should be named 44034-h.htm or 44034-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/0/3/44034/ - -Produced by StevenGibbs, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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a/old/44034.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10715 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Juliette Drouet's Love-Letters to Victor -Hugo, by Louis Guimbaud and Juliette Drouet - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Juliette Drouet's Love-Letters to Victor Hugo - Edited with a Biography of Juliette Drouet - -Author: Louis Guimbaud - Juliette Drouet - -Translator: Lady Theodora Davidson - -Release Date: October 25, 2013 [EBook #44034] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIETTE DROUET'S LETTERS *** - - - - -Produced by StevenGibbs, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - JULIETTE DROUET'S LOVE-LETTERS - TO VICTOR HUGO - -THE NEW FRANCE, BEING A HISTORY FROM THE ACCESSION OF LOUIS PHILIPPE IN -1830 TO THE REVOLUTION OF 1848, with Appendices - -By ALEXANDRE DUMAS. Translated into English, with an introduction -and notes by R. S. GARNETT. - -_In two volumes, Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, profusely illustrated with a -rare portrait of Dumas and other pictures after famous artists. -24/-net._ - -The map of Europe is about to be altered. Before long we shall be -engaged in the marking out. This we can hardly follow with success -unless we possess an intelligent knowledge of the history of our Allies. -It is a curious fact that the present generation is always ignorant of -the history of that which preceded it. Everyone or nearly everyone has -read a history--Carlyle's or some other--of the French Revolution of -1789 to 1800; very few seem versed in what followed and culminated in -the revolution of 1848, which was the continuation of the first. - -Both revolutions resulted from an idea--the idea of _the people_. In -1789 the people destroyed servitude, ignorance, privilege, monarchical -despotism; in 1848 they thrust aside representation by the few and a -Monarchy which served its own interests to the prejudice of the country. -It is impossible to understand the French Republic of to-day unless the -struggle in 1848 be studied: for every profound revolution is an -evolution. - -A man of genius, the author of the most essentially French book, both in -its subject and treatment, that exists (its name is _The Three -Musketeers_) took part in this second revolution, and having taken part -in it, he wrote its history. Only instead of calling his book what it -was--a history of France for eighteen years--that is to say from the -accession of Louis Philippe in 1830 to his abdication in 1848--he called -it _The Last King of the French_. An unfortunate title, truly, for while -the book was yet a new one the "last King" was succeeded by a man who, -having been elected President, made himself Emperor. It will easily be -understood that a book with such a title by a republican was not likely -to be approved by the severe censorship of the Second Empire. And, in -fact, no new edition of the book has appeared for sixty years, although -its republican author was Alexandre Dumas. - -During the present war the Germans have twice marched over his grave at -Villers Cotterets, near Soissons, where he sleeps with his brave father -General Alexandre Dumas. The first march was en route for Paris; the -second was before the pursuit of our own and the French armies, and -while these events were taking place the first translation of his long -neglected book was being printed in London. _Habent sua fata tibelli._ - -Written when the fame of its brilliant author was at its height, this -book will be found eminently characteristic of him. Although a history -composed with scrupulous fidelity to facts, it is as amusing as a -romance. Wittily written, and abounding in life and colour, the long -narrative takes the reader into the battlefield, the Court and the Hotel -de Ville with equal success. Dumas, who in his early days occupied a -desk in the prince's bureaux, but who resigned it when the Duc d'Orleans -became King of the French, relates much which it is curious to read at -the present time. To his text, as originally published, are added as -Appendices some papers from his pen relating to the history of the time, -which are unknown in England. - -[Illustration: _Victor Hugo and Juliette Drouet_] - - - - - JULIETTE DROUET'S LOVE-LETTERS - TO VICTOR HUGO - - EDITED WITH A BIOGRAPHY OF JULIETTE DROUET - - BY - LOUIS GUIMBAUD - - TRANSLATED BY - LADY THEODORA DAVIDSON - - WITH A PHOTOGRAVURE FRONTISPIECE - AND 36 ILLUSTRATIONS IN HALF-TONE - - LONDON - STANLEY PAUL & CO - 31 ESSEX STREET, STRAND, W.C. - - _First published in 1915_ - - - - -FOREWORD - - -A poet, a great poet, loves a princess of the theatre. He is jealous. He -forces her to abandon the stage and the green-room, to relinquish the -hollow flattery of society and the town; he cloisters her with one -servant, two or three of his portraits, and as many books, in an -apartment a few yards square. When she complains of having nothing to do -but wait for him, he replies: "Write to me. Write me everything that -comes into your head, everything that causes your heart to beat." - -Such is the origin of the letters of Juliette Drouet to Victor Hugo. -They are not ordinary missives confided to the post and intended to -assure a lover of the tender feelings of his mistress: they are notes, -mere "scribbles," as Juliette herself calls them, thrown upon paper hour -by hour, cast into a corner without being read over, and secured by the -lover at each of his visits, as so many trophies of passion. - -When Juliette Drouet's executor, M. Louis Kock, died in Paris on May -26th, 1912, he had in his possession about twenty thousand. He had added -to them the letters of James Pradier to our heroine, those of Juliette -to her daughter, Claire Pradier, and the answers of Claire Pradier to -her mother. - -This collection of documents passed into the hands of a Parisian -publisher, Monsieur A. Blaizot, who has been so good as to allow us to -examine them and compile from them a volume concerning Victor Hugo and -his friend. - -At first sight the task presented grave difficulties--nay, it seemed -almost impossible of execution. To begin with, it would have been futile -to think of publishing the whole of the twenty thousand letters; in the -second place, it might appear a work of supererogation to reconstruct -from them in detail the story of a _liaison_ well known to have been -uneventful, almost monotonous, and more suggestive of a litany or the -beads of a rosary than of tragedy or a novel. - -We have attempted to surmount these objections in the following manner: - -In the first portion we present the biography of Juliette Drouet in the -form of a series of synthetic tableaux, each tableau summarising several -lustres of her life. We thus avoid the long-drawn-out narrative, year by -year, of an existence devoid of incident or adventure. - -In the second, we publish those letters which strike us as peculiarly -eloquent, witty, or lyrical. In the light shed upon them by the -preliminary biography, they form, as one might say, its justification -and natural sequel. - -At the outset of her _liaison_ with the poet Juliette does not date her -"scribbles"; she merely notes the time of day and the day of the week, -until about 1840; we have therefore been obliged to content ourselves -with the classification effected by her in the collection of her -manuscripts, and preserved by her executor. - -From 1840 she dated every sheet. Consequently our work simultaneously -achieves more precision and certainty. - -When its difficulties have seemed insuperable, we have derived valuable -encouragement from the sympathy of the literary students and friends who -had urged us to undertake it, or were assisting us in its execution. We -have pleasure in recording our thanks to the following: MM. Louis -Barthou, Beuve, A. Blaizot, Francois Camailhac, Eugene Planes, Escolier, -etc. b We have often wondered what the charming woman whose ideals, -tastes, and habits have, by degrees, become almost as familiar to us as -her handwriting, would have thought of our efforts. As far as she -herself is concerned there can be but little doubt. She would have made -fun of the undertaking. By dint of moving in the society of men of high -literary attainments she had acquired a very modest estimate of her own -wit and talent. In 1877, when the architect Roblin one day discovered -her sorting out her "scribbles," he thought she was attempting to write -a book and gravely asked her "when it was to be published." "What an -idea!" she cried, and burst out laughing. - -Such was not the opinion of Victor Hugo, however. That perfect artist -attached the utmost importance to the writings of his friend. Each time -she wished to destroy them he commanded her to preserve them. Whenever -she proposed to bring them to a close, he insisted upon her continuing. -We possess an unpublished letter from the poet in which he exclaims: - -"Your letters, my Juliette, constitute my treasure, my casket of jewels, -my riches! In them our joint lives are recorded day by day, thought by -thought. All that you dreamed lies there, all that you suffered. They -are charming mirrors, each one of which reflects a fresh aspect of your -lovely soul." - -Surely such a phrase conveys approbation and sanction sufficient for -both Juliette Drouet and her humble biographer. - - - - -CONTENTS - - -PART I - -_BIOGRAPHICAL_ - -CHAPTER I - PAGE - -JULIENNE GAUVAIN 1 - -CHAPTER II - -PRINCESSE NEGRONI 14 - -CHAPTER III - -"LA TRISTESSE D'OLYMPIO" 33 - -CHAPTER IV - -THE SHACKLES OF LOVE 45 - -CHAPTER V - -CLAIRE PRADIER 69 - -CHAPTER VI - -"ON AN ISLAND" 84 - -CHAPTER VII - -"THAT WHICH BRINGS SATISFACTION TO THE HEART" 104 - - -PART II - -_LETTERS_ 115 - - -APPENDIX - -I. LIST OF THOSE OF VICTOR HUGO'S POEMS -WHICH WERE INSPIRED BY JULIETTE -DROUET 311 - -II. BOOKS CONCERNING JULIETTE DROUET 314 - -III. WORKS OF ART REPRESENTING JULIETTE -DROUET 314 - -INDEX 317 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - -VICTOR HUGO AND JULIETTE DROUET _Photogravure Frontispiece_ - - FACING PAGE - -THE CHATEAU OF FOUGERES IN 1831 1 - -CLAIRE PRADIER AS A CHILD 8 - -VICTOR HUGO AS A YOUNG MAN 16 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN THE ROLE OF LA PRINCESSE NEGRONI 24 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN THE ROLE OF LA PRINCESSE NEGRONI 32 - -HOUSE IN THE VILLAGE OF LES METZ, IN THE PARISH OF -JOUY-EN-JOSAS, SEINE-ET-OISE 32 - -CHURCH OF BIEVRES, SEINE-ET-OISE 40 - -VICTOR HUGO ABOUT 1836 48 - -"LE CITOYEN VICTOR HUGO JOUANT AU CONGRES DE LA PAIX" 64 - -CLAIRE PRADIER AT FIFTEEN 72 - -CLAIRE PRADIER ON HER DEATHBED 80 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN JERSEY 88 - -VICTOR HUGO IN JERSEY 96 - -VICTOR HUGO, HIS FAMILY, AND JULIETTE DROUET AT HAUTEVILLE HOUSE 104 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN 1883 112 - -CLAIRE PRADIER 120 - -JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1830 128 - -A PAGE OF JULIETTE DROUET'S NOTE-BOOK IN 1834 136 - -AUTOGRAPH LETTER FROM JULIETTE DROUET TO HER DAUGHTER CLAIRE 144 - -VICTOR HUGO 160 - -CARICATURE OF MLLE. GEORGE, BY VICTOR HUGO 176 - -PORTRAIT OF VICTOR HUGO BY HIMSELF 176 - -AUTOGRAPH AND DRAWING BY JULIETTE DROUET 192 - -THE BRIDGE OF MARNE 208 - -A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET 224 - -JULIETTE DROUET IN 1846 232 - -VICTOR HUGO, REPUBLICAIN 240 - -DRAWING BY VICTOR HUGO, SIGNED "TOTO" 256 - -THE FLOWER AND THE BUTTERFLY 256 - -JULIETTE DROUET'S HAND 272 - -VICTOR HUGO, BY RODIN 288 - -JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1877 296 - -THE DEATHBED OF VICTOR HUGO 304 - -A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET 304 - -BOOK-PLATE DESIGNED FOR JULIETTE DROUET BY VICTOR HUGO 312 - -[Illustration: THE CHATEAU OF FOUGERES IN 1836. - -Unpublished drawing by Victor Hugo.] - - - - -JULIETTE DROUET'S LOVE-LETTERS TO VICTOR HUGO - - - - -PART I - -_BIOGRAPHICAL_ - - - - -CHAPTER I - -JULIENNE GAUVAIN - - -An irregular outline, sombre colouring, a tangle of towers, steeples, -high gables and ramparts, steep passages built in the form of steps: -such was the town of Fougeres at the beginning of the nineteenth -century. The principal features of its surroundings were a turbulent -river waging unceasing conflict with numerous mills, uncultivated -wastes, more footpaths than lanes, and more lanes than high-roads. - -This former hot-bed of _chouans_ was an appropriate birthplace for a -heroine of romance--and there, on April 10th, 1806, was born Julienne -Josephine Gauvain, subsequently known as Mademoiselle Juliette, and -later still, as Madame Drouet.[1] - -Her father was a humble tailor living in a suburb of the town, on the -road between Fougeres and Autrain; her mother kept the little home. -Madame Drouet was somewhat proud of her humble origin; she wrote: "I am -of the people," as others might boast "I am well born"; she wished -thereby to explain and excuse her taste for independence, her fiery -temper, and her impulsive nature. She might equally have attributed -these to the neglect she suffered in early infancy. - -For she had no parents to guard or train her. Her mother died on -December 15th, 1806, before the infant could lisp her first words. On -September 12th in the following year the father dragged himself to the -public infirmary at Fougeres, and there breathed his last. The infirmary -took over the charge of the orphan, and was about to place her with the -foundlings--indeed, the necessary formalities had already been complied -with--when a protector suddenly came forward, a certain worthy uncle. - -His name was Rene Henri Drouet. He was thirty-two years old, a -sub-lieutenant of artillery, had seen active service in eight campaigns -under Napoleon, and been wounded in the foot by the blow of an axe. The -wound was such that some very quiet employment had to be provided for -him. The ex-artilleryman was turned into a coast-guard, and dawdled out -a bored existence in the little Breton port where fate confined him -henceforth. He claimed Julienne, and she was handed over to his care. - -It would be foolish to pretend that this retired warrior was a suitable -person to undertake the training of a little girl. He understood only -how to spoil and caress her. Never did child enjoy a wilder, more -vagabond childhood. Julienne never got to the village school, because on -the way thither glimmered a large pond bordered by clumps of bushes. -Among the latter she would conceal her shoes and stockings, and, wading -into the water, blue as the skies above, gather starry water-lilies. -When she came out, more often than not she failed to find the -hiding-place, and ran home bare-footed, with hair floating in the wind -and a frock torn to ribbons. But she only laughed, and was forgiven -because she made such a winsome picture in her tatters and her wreath of -flowers. Those were halcyon days--days filled with innocent joys and -elemental sorrows: a fruit-tree robbed of its burden under the indulgent -eye of the old coastguard in his green uniform, the death of a tame -linnet. All her life Julienne's memory would dwell pleasurably on those -early delights. Nothing could curb her natural wildness, not even the -gate of a cloister or the rule of St. Benedict. - -Among Rene Henri Drouet's female relations he counted a sister and a -cousin, nuns in a great Parisian convent, the Bernardines-Benedictines -of Perpetual Adoration. Their house was situated in the Rue du -Petit-Picpus. When Julienne was ten years old he easily managed to have -her admitted to the school attached to the convent, and thenceforth the -orphan's path in life seemed settled: she should first become a -distinguished pupil, then a pious novice, and lastly a holy nun. But, as -events turned out, Julienne was only to carry out the first part of the -programme. - -From the description left us by Madame Drouet and transcribed in full -by, Victor Hugo in _Les Miserables_, the house in the Petit-Picpus -was none too cheerful; its first welcome to the child was more -sombre than any drama she was to figure in, later, as an actress. -Padlocked gates, dark corridors, bare rooms, a chapel where the -priest himself was concealed behind a veil--such was the scene; black -phantoms with shrouded features played the parts; the action was -composed of interminable prayers and stringent mortifications. The -Bernardines-Benedictines slept on straw and wore hair shirts, which -produced chronic irritation and jerky spasms; they knew not the taste -of meat or the warmth of a fire; they took turns in making reparation, -and no excuse for shirking was permitted. Reparation consisted in -prayers for all the sins and faults of omission and commission, all -the crimes of the world. For twelve consecutive hours the petitioner -had to kneel upon the stone steps in front of the Blessed Sacrament, -with clasped hands and a rope round her neck; when the fatigue -became unbearable, she prostrated herself on her face, with her arms -outstretched in the form of a cross, and prayed more ardently than -before for the sinners of the universe. Victor Hugo, who gathered -these details from the lips of Madame Drouet, declared them sublime, -while she who had personally witnessed their painful passion, retained -a profound impression for life, coupled with a strong sense of -Catholicism, and the gift of prayer. - -Outside of these austerities the pupils of the school conformed to -nearly all the practices of the convent. Like the nuns, they only saw -their parents in the parlour, and were not allowed to embrace them. In -the refectory they ate in silence under the eye of the nun on duty, who -from time to time, if so much as a fly flew without permission, would -snap a wooden book noisily. This sound, and the reading of the _Lives of -the Saints_, were the sole seasoning of the meal. If a rebellious pupil -dared to dislike the food and leave it on her plate, she was condemned -to kneel and make the sign of the cross on the stone floor with her -tongue. - -Neither the licked cross nor the meagre fare ever succeeded in damping -Julienne's spirits. She preserved the beautiful spontaneity and love of -fun of her early years. She was the spoilt child of the convent where -her aunts, Mother des Anges and Mother Ste Mechtilde, appear to have -wielded a kindly authority. She soon became its _enfant terrible_. Once, -when she was about twelve years old, she threw herself into the arms of -a nun and cried, devouring the outer walls with her eyes: "Mother, -mother, one of the big girls has just told me I have only got nine years -and ten months more to stay here: what luck!" And another time she -dropped on the pavement of the cloister a confession written on a sheet -of paper so that she might not forget its items: "Father, I accuse -myself of being an adulteress. Father, I accuse myself of having stared -at gentlemen." - -One might well ask who were the gentlemen concerned, for in the convent -of Petit-Picpus there were no male professors; only the most -distinguished among the nuns assumed the duty of instructing the young -boarders. Judging from the eloquence which will be found later in Madame -Drouet's letters, the Bernardines-Benedictines must have accomplished -their task with great thoroughness. Julienne learned from them, if not -orthography and cultivated style, at least sincerity, and the point -that, before attempting to write, one should have something to say. She -also studied accomplishments. Mother Ste Mechtilde possessed a beautiful -voice. She was consequently appointed mistress of ceremonies and of the -choir, and used to train her niece and other pupils. Her habit was to -take seven children and make them sing standing in a row according to -their ages, so that they looked like a set of girlish organ-pipes. -History does not relate whether Julienne sang better than the others, -but a little later she began to nurse in secret the idea of utilising -her gifts as a virtuoso. At Petit-Picpus she also learned to sketch and -paint in water-colours. She owed this instruction to the favour of the -pious nuns, who, as a special breach of their rule, authorised her to -take lessons from a young master, Redoute. - -It may not be too bold to declare that Julienne imbibed at the convent -those qualities of tact and restraint, and that air of distinction she -exhibited later in the drawing-rooms of Victor Hugo. To the Convent of -the Bernardines was attached a sort of house of retreat where aged -ladies of rank could end their days, as also nuns of the various orders -whose cloisters had been destroyed during the Revolution. Some of these -preserved within their hearts a generous instinct of maternity, which -Julienne easily managed to waken. She fell into the habit of running -across to break the rule of everlasting silence in that fairly cheerful -environment, and, in defiance of the prohibition against intimacy, she -turned the old ladies into personal friends. She listened attentively, -and remembered much, and forty years later she could describe correctly -the names, appearance, and habits of that picturesque group, somewhat -archaic, but invariably courteous and witty. - -Perhaps because of this slight lifting of the veil, Julienne began -already, at the age of sixteen, to fix her eager gaze beyond the -cloister and the gate. Perhaps also some instinct of dignity and -self-respect urged her to learn something of the world before entering -the novitiate to pronounce her vows. However this may be, it seems -certain that, on the solemn occasion of her presentation to the -Archbishop of Paris, Monsignor Quelen, as a postulant, she managed to -convey that her vocation was of the frailest, and her desire for the -world, deeply rooted. The prelate understood, and signified to the nuns -that this particular lamb desired to wander. That very evening Julienne -left the convent. - -Here follows a somewhat obscure interlude in the girl's life. We meet -her next among the pupils of the sculptor Pradier, in 1825. - -James Pradier: to those of our generation this name recalls merely a -number of groups and statues: statues more graceful than chaste, groups -more elegant than virile; the work of a master who aimed at rivalling -Praxiteles, but only succeeded in treading in the footsteps of Clodion. - -Pradier, however, only needs a careful biographer to acquire another -kind of celebrity: that of an artist, _grand viveur_, magnificent and -vain, careless and weak, born too late to lead without scandal the -frivolous life he loved, too early to acquire by industry the fortune -needed for the indulgence of his tastes. - -Twice a week his studio was transformed into a drawing-room, and his -receptions were attended by a most varied company: painters and poets, -models, actresses, dames of high degree, politicians and men of the -sword--all society, in short, liked to be seen in the Rue de l'Abbaye. - -Clad in high boots, cut low in front, in violet velvet trousers and a -coat of the same material decorated with Polish brandebergs, flanked by -a Scotch greyhound almost as big as himself, the master of the house -received his visitors, listened to them, talked with them, without -interrupting his work; he created fresh marvels with the chisel while -the conversation flowed unrestrained, and thus his labours became -simultaneously a gossip and a spectacle. - -In the novel excitement of surroundings so brilliant, so varied, and of -morals so easy, Julienne committed the imprudence which was to settle -the fate of her whole life. Thanks to her independent spirit, and still -more to her beauty, she very soon established her position in Pradier's -house. She came there often, remained long, and consented to pose for -him.[2] - -And when, one day, the sculptor desired for himself this flower, so -superior in delicacy and aroma to those usually found in the studios, he -had but to bend down and pluck it. - -[Illustration: CLAIRE PRADIER AS A CHILD. - -From an unpublished drawing by Pradier.] - -He made Julienne his mistress in 1825. In 1826 she gave him a little -daughter whom we shall meet again later. But now arose difficulties of a -practical nature. James Pradier, ex-Prix de Rome, Chevalier de la Legion -d'Honneur, Membre de l'Institut, Professeur de l'Ecole des -Beaux-Arts, could not with propriety, according to his ideas, marry a -model. He does not dream of it for an instant, but, as he wishes to do -the girl some kindness, however unsuitable, he manages to insinuate her -into the theatrical world, and to put her on the boards. Having friends -in Brussels, he decrees that she shall go thither to study and make her -first appearance; and, as she needs guidance, advice, and protection, he -writes her almost every day long letters, in which platitudes alternate -with vulgarity. The correspondence continues, wordy and trivial, -interminable and foolish, a repulsive mixture of boasting and preaching. -Does Julienne show distaste for vaudeville, Pradier proclaims that form -of acting to be the most charming in the world, and places it far above -tragedy, which he pronounces tiresome and chilling. If Julienne -complains that she has but one dress, Pradier tells her that only the -leading lights of the stage possess more. If she ventures a timid -request for money, he answers that he has none himself, and offers her a -book of fairy-tales illustrated under his supervision. - -She had to keep herself alive somehow, and when the poor thing had -pledged everything she possessed at the pawnbroker's, she wrote -plaintively: "This is the only money my talents have earned for me so -far." She might perhaps have been reduced to some desperate measure, had -not chance placed her in the path of Felix Harel. - -Although an incorrigible Bonapartist, and consequently a conspirator by -trade, Harel seems to have been above all a man of the theatre: in the -midst of his political preoccupations, one can always discern his -predilection for things pertaining to the stage. He also had a very -definite conviction that politics and the drama, statesmen and -ballet-dancers, have always been closely linked together. So, whether he -was for the moment pamphleteer, financier, or prefect, whether he was -holding an appointment, or in full flight, he always had a finger in -some theatrical pie, either as a director, a manager, or a private -adviser. At the time he first met Julienne, he was filling the latter -capacity at the Theatre Royal, in Brussels. He presented the young -woman. Without further training than that which Pradier had directed -from afar, we know that she made her first appearance in Brussels, at -the beginning of the year 1829--to be exact, on February 17th. - -On that day she informs Pradier that her debut has been successful, and -that the Brussels press is favourable. He at once thanks Providence and -decides that she can henceforth support herself by her talent. He -writes: "Is not this a great pleasure to you? Does it not lift a weight -from your heart, you who have such a noble soul? How sweet is the bread -one has earned so honourably! For my part, I feel that all your faults -are condoned by the trouble you are taking. Your perseverance will be -rewarded, never doubt it. Go on working! Time can never hang heavy when -one is labouring honestly; study carries more flowers than thorns." - -Having spoken thus, the artist returned to his business and his -pleasures, not without having exhorted Julienne to remain in Brussels as -long as possible. He was not ignorant of the passionate desire of the -young woman to see her babe once more, but he feared that, if she should -not find an engagement in Paris like the one she enjoyed in Brussels, -she would again be, morally at least, on his hands. Therefore, -redoubling his cautious advice and his counsels of prudence, he implored -her not to relinquish a certainty for an uncertainty. - -However, nothing deterred her. Julienne, as she used to say afterwards, -would rather have trudged the distance that separated her from her -child, on foot, than waited any longer. The events of 1829 spared her -the trouble. Owing to certain evidences of internal discontent, the -government of Charles X was developing liberal proclivities. Among other -political exiles, it allowed Felix Harel to return, and with him his -illustrious mistress, Mlle. Georges. Julienne shared their lot. She -accompanied them, not only to Paris, but to the Theatre of the Porte St. -Martin, which, under Harel's influence, rapidly became the stronghold of -romanticism, and on February 27th, 1830, she made her debut on its -boards in the part of Emma, in _L'Homme du Monde_, by Ancelot and -Saintine. Then she migrated almost at once to the Odeon, of which Harel -had just undertaken the management, without, however, resigning that of -the Porte St. Martin. She played various parts there throughout the year -1831. - -We shall hear later on that she was beautiful, but for the present we -must confine ourselves to the question of her talent and dramatic -qualities. It has been hinted that she owed her success solely to her -lovely face and graceful figure, and that she was one of those ephemeral -favourites who reap popular applause in return for the exhibition of -their charms. The truth seems to be that "la belle Juliette," as she was -already called, gave proofs of distinguished powers, although one is -fain to admit that, at this distance of time, it is not easy to define -her capacity with any exactitude. For one thing, it was never Juliette's -good fortune to play an important part which has since become a classic, -and by which her true qualities could be gauged: in Harel's troupe the -first-class parts were already justly monopolised by Mlle. Georges and -Madame Dorval. Also, nearly all the plays in which Juliette appeared are -nowadays looked upon as antiquated and sometimes even absurd. In fact, -it is difficult to conceive how they ever could have been given. It will -be wiser, therefore, to rely mainly on Pradier's letters to discover -what were the natural gifts which could have inspired that artist to -make of his mistress an actress, and even a tragedian. - -Pradier, then, considered Juliette well equipped by nature in respect of -sentiment, intelligence, and voice production; but he criticised in her -a certain timidity and lack of assurance, sufficient to mar her -entrances and cover her exits with ridicule. He also thought fit to -observe to her that, once she was on the scene, and had overcome her -initial fright, she overacted her parts, and was not sufficiently -natural; she forgot to address herself to the audience, and would speak -into the wings, and neglect to vary her gestures, intonations, and -pauses. - -To sum up, fire, intelligence, and an adequate vocal organ, but shyness, -awkwardness, monotonous delivery, and hesitation in gesture and gait: -such seem to have been the dramatic qualities and shortcomings of "la -belle Juliette." The testimony of Pradier has been confirmed by that of -_L'Artiste_. If there is any need to say more, we can judge by an -analysis of her engagements with Harel. - -On February 7th, 1832, Harel signs a contract with her for thirteen -months, to begin from the March 1st following. He brings her back from -the Odeon to the Porte St. Martin, and promises her the modest salary of -four thousand francs per annum, payable monthly. But he does not treat -her as a "general utility" actress--on the contrary, he insists that she -keep principally to the part of _jeune premiere_ in comedy, tragedy, and -drama; that she learn daily at least forty lines or verses of the parts -which shall be allotted to her; that she furnish at her own expense all -the dresses necessary for her parts; that she be present at all -rehearsals called by the administration of the theatre. On January 13th, -1833, the two agree that the engagement shall be prolonged on the same -conditions until April 1st, 1834. Between whiles, Juliette continued to -create parts. - -It must be confessed that she led the customary life of a theatrical -star. From the Boulevard St. Denis, where she lived, to the Boulevard du -Temple, which was then the hub of the social world and the centre of -amusement, the distance was negligible. She was therefore present at -every scene of this ceaseless round of entertainment. Her wardrobe -enjoyed a certain renown. Her journeys, one of which was to Italy -towards the end of 1832, helped to keep her before the public. Beautiful -as a goddess, merrier than ever, her bearing unconcerned, her arm -lightly placed within that of the chance companion of the moment, her -eyes flashing fire, though her heart might be full to bursting, she -sailed towards Cytheraea without apparent regret, without thought of -return. It was at this moment that Victor Hugo succeeded in bringing her -back into port, and keeping her there for ever, the slave of one master, -the woman of one love. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -PRINCESSE NEGRONI - - -Two portraits of Victor Hugo are extant: one by Deveria executed in -1829, the other by Leon Noel in 1832.[3] What a change is visible in the -short space of three years! The "monumental" brow which reminded -Theophile Gautier of the "fronton de temple Grec" is the same; but, -whereas in 1829 it was instinct with lofty thought and pleasant fancies, -in 1832 worry and suspicion have already scored it deeply with lines of -care. In 1829 Deveria recognised and rendered the characteristic -expression of the poet: that bright, upward glance which ten years -before had caused the author of the _Odes_ to be compared to a -stained-glass archangel. In 1832 Leon Noel saw a fixed, overshadowed -gaze, whose severity is further accentuated by knitted brows. In 1829 -fleshy, sinuous lips always half ready for a smile or a kiss, indicate -both sensuality and humour. In 1832 they are tightly compressed, their -outline exaggeratedly firm; they give the impression of having forgotten -joy and learnt to express only will. Even in the quality of the -flesh-tints the artists disagree. According to Deveria the pallor -natural to the poet bears the impress of health and placidity, whereas -Leon Noel's rendering reveals sickliness and a sense of doom. - -What, then, had happened between the dates of the two portraits? Had the -whole character of the poet changed? Had he lost some precious article -of faith or conviction, or was it that the mainspring of his enthusiasm -had failed him? Nay--his soul still cherished the same treasures of -idealism. The former penitent of the Abbe Lammenais still preserved at -thirty his ardent, perhaps even narrow Catholicism, his cult of purity, -his contempt for physical indulgence, his delight in the joys and duties -of family life. Eager for self-sacrifice, rich in the hopes and -illusions he confided to his few intimate friends, he dreamed of sharing -everything with the people, towards whom the trend of events inclined -him to turn; just as he had once written _Les Lettres a la fiancee_ for -a single reader, so he had now published for the crowd _Les Feuilles -d'Automne_, the curious preface to that collection, and in the -collection itself the sublime _Priere pour tous_. His was a soul -profoundly religious, and a lofty mind which aspired to raise itself -ever higher. - -But he did not live by thought alone. Many of those who watched him -working without intermission, with a method and a will that defied human -weakness, who saw how numerous were his lectures, how varied his -researches, and who witnessed the incessant travail of his imagination, -thought that the author of _Hernani_ and _Dona Sol_ must be lacking in -human sensibility. He protests against this. In a letter to Sainte-Beuve -he says: "I live only by my emotions; to love, or to crave for love and -friendship, is the fundamental aim--happy or unhappy, public or -private--of my life."[4] He might equally have added: "That is why for -the last two years my brow is no longer placid, why my eyes seek the -ground, why my lips are so bitterly compressed." - -The secret of the change in Victor Hugo's physiognomy lies in the -treachery of his wife and his best friend. Love and friendship failed -him together. His moral distress was immense, his pain unfathomable. -They inspired him with plaints so touching that, after hearing them, one -asks oneself whether it can ever be possible for him to forget or -recover. One despairs of the healing of the man who writes: "I have -acquired the conviction that it is possible for the one who possesses -all my love to cease to care for me. I am no longer happy."[5] - -Calmness did return to him, however. It was thus: For the last ten -years, that is, practically ever since her marriage, Madame Victor Hugo -had behaved in such a manner that when the day of the betrayal, in which -she was the accomplice of his friend, dawned, the poet was able to -consider her with contempt. Although fairly gifted in appearance, she -possessed neither taste nor cleverness in the matter of dress; she had -always shown herself to him in careless attire and unfashionable gowns. -Absent-minded and limited in intelligence, she remained uncultured and -oblivious of the genius of her husband, and of achievements of which she -appreciated only the financial value. In addition, she had declined to -share the noble ideal originally proposed to her by her -twenty-year-old bridegroom: love considered as "the ardent and pure -union of two souls, a union begun on earth to end not even in -heaven."[6] The poet was thus authorised, and even forced, to seek -happiness in the arms of some other woman. If Victor Hugo had wished to -avoid that "other woman " he would have had to remain for ever concealed -in his tower of ivory--which certainly did not happen. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO AS A YOUNG MAN. - -In the possession of M. le D. F. Jousseaume.] - -He emerged from it in the spring of 1832, on May 26th, and appeared at -an artists' ball. There he saw Juliette for the first time; but she was -so beautiful and so captivating that he was afraid of her, and dared not -address her. Five years later he recorded this impression of admiring -timidity in the book in which they had agreed to celebrate all their -anniversaries, namely the _Voix Interieures_.[7] - -For more than six months the poet lacked the courage to seek his vision -again, but in the early days of 1833 he found Juliette among the -actresses Harel suggested to him at the Porte St. Martin for his play, -_Lucrece Borgia_. He accepted her at once and gave her a small part, -that of Princesse Negroni. Then the rehearsals began. Juliette admits in -one of her letters that she showed herself very coquettish and -mischievous. - -According to her, the poet made up his mind the first day and the first -hour. But matters did not really proceed so easily. Victor Hugo, who, as -stated above, cherished the highest and purest moral ideal, must have -carried his principles with him into the wings and on the stage. He was -not partial to actresses; he was suspicious of them, and made no secret -of the feeling. One must picture him rather as on the defensive than -bold and adventurous. - -His attire and appearance were not calculated to ensure his social -success. We hear from Juliette herself that he wore his hair _en -broussaille_, and that his smile revealed "crocodile's teeth." Allowing -himself to be dressed by his tailor in the fashions of four or five -years earlier, his trousers were firmly braced above the waist, tightly -drawn over his boots, and fastened under the instep by a steel chain. To -sum up, as a dandy who writes these details concludes, he was a worthy -citizen desirous of being in the fashion, but unable to compass it. - -Fortunately the said citizen could speak, and his words of gold were -sufficient to gloss over any personal disadvantages. To men he -discoursed of his hopes and plans, and even his forecasts for the -future; to women of their beauty and the supremacy of such a gift. Men -found his arrogance intolerable, and complained that they must always -either listen, or talk to him of himself. But women liked him for -abasing his pride before them; they appreciated his good manners, his -urbanity, and the incomparable art with which he cast his laurels at -their feet. The god took on humanity for them; they were careful to pose -as goddesses before him. Juliette possessed everything needful to -accomplish this end. - -She was about to enter her twenty-sixth year; very shortly afterwards, -Theophile Gautier wrote this fulsome description of her, to please the -master: - -"Mademoiselle Juliette's countenance is of a regular and delicate -beauty; the nose chiselled and of handsome outline, the eyes limpid and -diamond-bright, the mouth moistly crimson, and tiny even in her gayest -fits of laughter. These features, charming in themselves, are set in an -oval of the suavest and most harmonious form. A clear, serene forehead -like the marble of a Greek temple crowns this delicious face; abundant -black hair, with wonderful reflections in it, brings out the diaphanous -and lustrous purity of her complexion. Her neck, shoulders, and arms, -are of classic perfection; she would be a worthy inspiration to -sculptors, and is well equipped to enter into competition with those -beautiful young Athenians who lowered their veils before the gaze of -Praxiteles conceiving his Venus.[8] - -These elegant phrases probably represent very imperfectly the impression -produced by Juliette. We have had the privilege of perusing some of the -proposals addressed to her, and we have read the cruel novel Alphonse -Karr prided himself on having written about her.[9] Everything conspires -to show that she shone and dazzled especially by her all-conquering air -of youth and ingenuousness. When she passed, spring was over. Her age, -condition, manner of life, had made of her a woman, while her smile and -movements kept her still a girl. Her gait was, in fact, so fairy-like -that her admirers all make use, certainly without collusion, of the -adjective, "aerien." Her face presented a perfect image of calmness and -purity. Did she raise her eyes, a soft, velvety, sometimes mournful gaze -was revealed--did she lower them, it was still the dawn, but a dawn -concealing itself behind a veil. - -All beautiful countenances have a soul; upon Juliette's could be read -less contentment than unsatisfied ardour, more melancholy than -serenity. Neither luxury, nor pleasure, nor flattery, was able to -satisfy the dearest desire of her heart from the age of sixteen, which -was, to become the passionate companion of an honest man. She lent -herself to her lovers, but her eyes made it plain that she still sought -the perfect one to whom she would some day capitulate. According to -herself--and we have no reason to doubt her--she selected Victor Hugo as -soon as she made his acquaintance. She expended herself in advances and -coquetries, and infused into the study and expression of her small part -all the art of which she was capable. In the third act of the play, when -Maffio said to her: "_L'amitie ne remplit pas tout le c[oe]ur_," she had -to query: "_Mon Dieu, qu'est-ce qui remplit tout le c[oe]ur?_" It seems -that at rehearsals she did not wait for Maffio's answer, but turned -subtly towards the poet and sought him with her eyes. He, however, still -hung back; a tradition attributed to Frederick Lemaitre, which we have -carefully verified,[10] informs us that he surprised even the actors of -the Porte St. Martin by the respectful tone he maintained towards his -beautiful interpreter. Far from addressing her in the familiar manner -customary in theatrical circles, he called her Mademoiselle Juliette, -kissed her hand, and bowed low before her. Frederick could not believe -his eyes. - -At last the evening of the first performance arrived; the success of the -piece was immediate. Juliette had her share of it. She was so beautiful -as the poisoner that, as Theophile Gautier says, the public forgot to -pity her unhappy guests and thought them fortunate to die after kissing -her hand.[11] After the third act she received congratulations even from -Mademoiselle Georges, who folded her in her arms and covered her with -kisses. As for the author, we do not know what he did in the first -blush, but the next morning he wrote thus: - -"In _Lucrece Borgia_, certain personages of secondary importance are -represented at the Porte St. Martin by actors of the first order, who -perform with grace, loyalty, and perfect taste, in the semi-obscurity of -their parts. The author here thanks them. Among these, the public -particularly distinguished Mademoiselle Juliette. It can hardly be said -that Princesse Negroni is a part: it is in some sense an apparition; a -figure, beautiful, young, fatal, which floats by, raising one corner of -the sombre veil that covers Italy at the commencement of the sixteenth -century. Mademoiselle Juliette threw into this figure an extraordinary -virility. She had few words to say, but she filled them with meaning. -This actress only requires opportunity, to reveal forcibly to the public -a talent full of soulfulness, passion, and truth."[12] - -Nothing could be better said or more openly declared, and the -interpreter of the part was thus informed of the intentions of the -author. He adopts her, makes her his own, is ready to share his own -glory with the youthful renown of Negroni. For her he will conceive -marvellous parts; she will create them. - -Juliette understood him perfectly. With the ardour of a -twenty-five-year-old imagination excited by love, she began to dream of -her poet, of their two lives henceforward united in a common success. -While Victor still wavered, still hesitated whether to seek this actress -of whom thousands of alarming anecdotes were current, she made foolish -projects, settled trivial details, savoured one by one those joys of the -dawn of love which so many women prefer to the delights of possession. - -He came at last on February 27th, Shrove Sunday, towards the end of the -afternoon. The weather had been beautiful, one of those soft spring days -that enhance the beauty of Parisian women and make the men pensive. The -streets were littered with booths, noisy with fireworks, discordant with -raucous voices. The Boulevard du Temple exploited a fair where, on that -particular day, masks and songs added variety and movement. - -Victor Hugo, who lived in the Place Royale and never drove in a cab, had -to cross this scene on foot. His thoughts were still confused; he, who -was ordinarily so determined in his plans, still debated whether he -should mount the actress's stairs. After all, this child seemed fond of -him--but whom was she not fond of? Who was there that did not figure on -the list of her lovers? Yesterday, Alphonse Karr, loutish, a babbler, a -writer of romances, fairly honest, but so ponderous in his pretentious -and everlasting coat of black velvet! To-day a Russian Prince who was -said to have offered Juliette a marvellous trousseau, copied from the -wedding outfit of Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans. He was also credited -with the intention of installing her in a sumptuous apartment in the Rue -de l'Echiquier.... What should a poet, a great poet conscious of his -mission, want with such a girl? - -Then a voice sang in the memory of Victor Hugo, a voice almost -supernatural, like those with which he used to endow the good fairies in -the days when he covered the margins of his lesson-books with fancies. -"_Mon Dieu_," it wailed, "_qu'est-ce qui remplit tout le c[oe]ur?_" And -at last the poet walked up to place the answer at the feet of his new -friend. - -Like all great hearts, Victor and Juliette fell head over ears in love, -and thought of nothing else. The poet was no longer to be found in the -Place Royale, or, if he was, he remained abstracted, a stranger at his -own hearth. He, usually so precise, so punctual and methodical, now -neglects his guests and is late for meals. When evening comes and his -drawing-room is filled with voices, song, and discussion, and with women -who smile upon him and men who render him homage, he forgets everything, -even to be polite. His eye is on the clock, he longs for the blessed -hour of the _rendezvous_ at 9, Rue St. Denis. Sometimes he snatches up a -stray sheet of paper and scribbles feverishly. Verse or prose? More -often it is verse, for it will be offered to Juliette, and nothing -flatters her so much as these poetical surprises created in the midst of -the din and diversions of a social circle. - -Neither did she give herself in niggardly fashion. From the very -beginning she said to him: "I am good for nothing but to love you!" She -threw herself thoroughly, magnificently, into the part. - -Thus quoth she--and wrote likewise, for she, also, wrote from -everywhere: from her room, from a friend's house, from her box at the -theatre, from a chance cafe. For her tender "scribbles," as she calls -them, any scrap of paper will serve, even an envelope or the margin of a -newspaper; and for instrument a pencil, a blackened pin, even a steel -pen, that novel invention of which every one is talking, but which she -hardly knows how to use. - -Of the form of her letters she takes little heed. No lexicon is needed -to say that one loves. A woman in the throes of passion does not worry -about grammar. Juliette is of that opinion, and that is why her early -letters are so full of charm. They exhale the perfume of love, and also -its timidity. - -Her letters were not merely a means of giving vent to her feelings: they -seemed to her the only occupation fit for a sweetheart worthy of the -name, when the lover is absent or delayed. On February 18th, 1833, -Victor Hugo had left her early in the morning. She had rushed to the -window to follow him with her eyes as long as he was in sight. At the -corner of the Rue St. Denis, as he was about to turn into the Rue St. -Martin, he looked back; they exchanged a volley of kisses. Then she -found herself lonely indeed, oblivious of her surroundings, like a -somnambulist who walks and speaks and acts in a dream. Around her was an -immense void, in her heart one sole desire: to see the poet again, and -never to part from him. It was to fill that void and beguile that desire -that she took up the habit of writing to him. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN THE ROLE OF LA PRINCESSE NEGRONI.] - -He, on his part, repaid letters and messages as much as possible with -his own presence. Any time he could snatch from his children and work -and visits to publishers or theatre-managers, he gave to Juliette. As -_Lucrece Borgia_ continued to reap a signal success--the greatest, from -the financial point of view, that the Porte St. Martin had ever -experienced--Harel asked the author for a new play. Victor Hugo wrote -_Marie Tudor_ in very few days, and the principal parts had just been -allotted: to Mademoiselle Georges the Queen, to Juliette, Jane. Under -pretext of rehearsing, we find our lovers lunching together almost every -day. If there was really a rehearsal, they met again afterwards on the -stage, and tasted the rare pleasure of sharing their work, as they -shared their pleasure. When they did not rehearse, they hurried out of -town. Furtively yet boldly, timidly but merrily, they started on one of -those strolls, partly Parisian, and partly suburban, which, according to -Juliette, were the chief enchantment of their _liaison_. - -Paris was not then the dusty conglomeration of eight-story-high houses -it now is. Instead of spreading over the surrounding country, it allowed -the country to encroach upon itself. At the foot of Montmartre (which -Juliette always calls a _mountain_), real windmills waved their long -arms; along the Butte aux Cailles a genuine brook purled among the -lilacs and syringa; on the summit of Montparnasse, when there was -dancing, artists and poets, dandies and grisettes, trod actual grass, to -the sound of fiddles! Juliette had always in her a strain of -bohemianism. We may therefore picture her in short, striped, pleated -skirt, tight at the waist but flowing out wide at the bottom over white -stockings, a little silken cape covering her queenly young bosom, -without concealing its fine lines, her head surmounted by a rose-trimmed -bonnet with black ribbons, clasping the arm of her "friend" with -sparkling eyes and cheeks as rosy as her headdress. Happiness, as she -used to say in after-days, is so light to carry, that her feet hardly -touched the ground. Her pride in her companion was such that her glance -defied Heaven. "When I hold your arm," she wrote to him, "I am as proud -as if I had made you myself." - -She did _re_make him, to a certain extent, for it was she who insisted -upon his becoming younger and smarter in appearance. He now trained his -chestnut locks over his Olympian brow, in careful but unromantic -fashion; his black eyes, with their blue depths, resumed their upward -glance, when they were not plunged in those of his mistress; his -complexion, which had been so pale, now gained colour, and soon, when -Auguste de Chatillon paints the poet's miniature for Juliette's -pleasure, he will be able to endow him with lips less eloquent than -caressing, without straying from the truth. "The dear little -fashionable," as his companion called him, compressed his sturdy figure -into a really handsome blue coat opening over a shot waistcoat. His -immaculate linen, and the scarlet ribbon of the order Charles X had -bestowed upon him in his youth, stood out in pleasant contrast to the -sombre hue of his coat. His tiny feet, and hands as delicate as -Juliette's own, completed this somewhat incongruous exterior. - -And the two made expeditions together, wherever they knew of, or hoped -to find, moss and trees, and an attractive shelter. They went to -Montmartre and Montrouge, to Maison Blanche and St. James, to Bicetre -and Meudon, Fontainebleau, Gisors, St. Germain-en-Laye, and Versailles. -Sometimes the poet pondered his work as he walked. Silence was then the -order of the day; so Juliette was silent. But more often they talked, -made plans for the future, babbled merry nonsense, and exchanged kisses. -Or else they discussed their past: Victor told of his studious childhood -spent poring over books, of his early works, laborious and chaste. -Juliette recalled her bare-footed school-girl pranks. Both gloried in -the radiant memories of their youth. - -But in the midst of those halcyon days of simple pleasures, Fate began -to show herself unkind. First came the failure of _Marie Tudor_, then -Juliette's disappointment at the Comedie Francaise, and, in addition, -the persecution of her creditors and the consequent quarrels with Victor -Hugo, with their subsequent scenes of tender reconciliation. - -The poor girl was, in fact, overwhelmed with debt. When Victor Hugo, -desirous of setting her free for ever, asked her to draw up a detailed -statement of her affairs, she nearly broke down under the task, for -there were not only ordinary bills, such as 12,000 fr. to Janisset the -jeweller, 1,000 fr. to Poivin the glove-maker, 600 fr. to the laundress, -260 fr. to Georges the hair-dresser, 400 fr. to Villain the purveyor of -rouge, 620 fr. to Madame Ladon, dressmaker, 2,500 fr. to Mesdames -Lebreton and Gerard for dress materials, 1,700 fr. to Jourdain the -upholsterer--but also fictitious and usurious debts intended to disguise -money loans, and all the more numerous because they were for the most -part invented under the direction of an attorney who answered to the -name of Maniere. She took good care not to reveal to Victor Hugo, whose -own burdens, and practical, economical mind, she was well acquainted -with, the amount of her expenditure and the magnitude of her -liabilities. The moment came, however, when the creditors realised that -they had to deal with a pretty woman inefficiently vouched for by a -poet. They lost patience and threatened her, and it was then that -Juliette had recourse to money-lenders. The remedy was worse than the -evil. Stamped paper soon flooded her rooms. Her furniture was seized, -and also her salaries from the Theatre Francais and the Porte St. -Martin. She tried to save a few clothes, and was had up for illegally -making away with the creditors' property. Her landlord threatened her -with expulsion; she imagined herself homeless, and lost her head. - -Instead of confiding in Victor Hugo, her natural protector, she had -recourse to former friends. There were many such, from Pradier, the -sculptor, to Sechan, the scene-painter of the Opera and other theatres. -Pradier replied with advice; he was not without just pretext for -refusal, for, since her intrigue with Victor Hugo, Juliette no longer -wrote to the father of her child except "_par accident et monosyllabes_" -or else in a school-girl's handwriting, calculated to cover the pages in -very few words. Sechan and a few others were less stingy; they sent -small but quite insufficient contributions. She was therefore forced to -take the big step of revealing the whole truth to the beloved. - -The scene was stormy, although Victor Hugo did not hesitate for a moment -before complying with an obligation that was also a satisfaction, since -it secured his possession of Juliette. Fussy and meticulous though he -was in the small circumstances of life, he knew how to be generous and -even lavish in the great--but Juliette's petty deceptions had infused -doubts in his mind; moreover, he was in love and therefore jealous. -Towards the end of 1833 and in the early part of 1834, suspicion, anger, -unjust recriminations and noisy quarrels became almost daily affairs. As -invariably happens in these cases, friends, male and female, interfered. -Juliette was slandered by Mademoiselle Ida Ferrier, her understudy in -the role of Jane at the Porte St. Martin--who would, if rumour may be -trusted, have gladly understudied her also in the heart of Victor -Hugo--also by Mademoiselle Georges, who was getting on in years[13] and -could not forgive the lovers for not acknowledging her sovereignty in -the green-room and drawing-room as they admitted it upon the stage. To -aspersions and reproaches Juliette opposed, not only indignation, but -angry words, violent retorts, and sometimes even insulting epithets; or -else she protested in innumerable letters and notes, rendered eloquent -by their sincerity. She complained that she was "attacked without the -means of defence, soiled without opportunity of cleansing herself, -wounded without chance of healing"; she affirmed her intention of -putting an end to the situation by suicide or final rupture. Generally -Victor Hugo arrived in time to calm her frenzy with a caress or a -soothing word, and then Juliette would try to resign herself and let -hope spring uppermost once more. But Victor Hugo, under the influence of -some new tittle-tattle, resumed his grand-inquisitorial manner, and the -tone, words, reproaches and even threats appertaining to the part. The -creditors continued to harry her without intermission; so in the end the -couple passed from words to actions. - -As we have stated above, Juliette's furniture had been seized, and she -was about to be turned out of her apartment in the Rue de l'Echiquier. -She had endeavoured vainly to interest her friends, past and present, in -her difficulties. Even Victor Hugo, disheartened probably by the -difficulties of the task, had returned a refusal. The lovers therefore -exchanged farewells which they thought final, and on August 3rd Juliette -started for St. Renan, near Brest, where her sister, Madame Kock, was -living. Happily she travelled by the Rennes diligence, and there were -many halts on the way. From the very first of these she sent an adoring -letter to the poet. She wrote again from Rennes, from Brest once more, -and lastly from St. Renan. Victor Hugo responded with expressions of -poignant regret and remorse, according to those who have read them. He -promised to do his very best to find the few necessary banknotes to -satisfy the biggest creditors. In the end, he set out for Rennes -himself, and rejoined his friend. The lovers returned to Paris on August -10th. - -Now commences the most singular period of the life of Juliette, one -which has been aptly entitled an "amorous redemption after the romantic -manner."[14] For nearly two years Victor Hugo, taking his mistress as -the subject of his experiment, put into practice the theories, in part -religious, and in part philosophical, which he professed concerning -courtesans, namely: the expiation of faults by faithful, passionate, -disinterested love; love itself being considered as a species of -_sesame_, capable of opening wide the doors of science, and throwing -light upon all hidden things. - -The first condition of redemption was poverty, voluntarily, almost -joyously, accepted. The furniture of the Rue de l'Echiquier must be sold -and the beautiful rooms given up. A tiny apartment consisting of two -rooms and a kitchen was taken for Juliette at No. 4, Rue du Paradis au -Marais, at a yearly rental of 400 fr. There she shivered through the -winter, and spent part of her days in bed to economise her fuel; but at -least she proved that she loved truly and was deserving of love. - -No more dresses or jewels ... every evening Victor Hugo repeated to his -mistress that dress adds nothing to the charms of a lovely woman, that -it is waste of time to try to add to nature where nature herself is -beautiful; and proudly, as if indeed she were clothed in the hair-shirt -of her former mistresses at the convent, Juliette wrote: "My poverty, my -clumsy shoes, my faded curtains, my metal spoons, the absence of all -ornament and pleasure apart from our love, testify at every hour and -every minute, that I love you with all my heart." - -But there can be no true reformation or conversion without work. So -Juliette must work; she must study her parts, make her clothes and even -some of Victor Hugo's, patch others, keep her little house in order, and -spend what leisure she can snatch, in copying the works of the master, -cutting out extracts from the newspapers, classifying and collecting his -manuscripts and proofs. - -When he had completed this splendid programme, of which almost every -part, as we shall presently see, was carried out to the letter, the poet -experienced an overpowering need to find himself alone somewhere with -the woman he had finally subjugated. His mind was still quite Virgilian. -He had not yet arrived at confusing duty with politics and happiness -with popularity. His greatest enjoyment, next to love, was in rural -pursuits, and for the indulgence of these he flattered himself he had -discovered in Juliette a companion worthy of himself. The lovers had -barely settled in the Rue du Paradis au Marais before they went off to -the valley of Bievres. Half mystics, half pagans, worshipping equally at -the shrines of the forest divinities and those of the village churches, -they entered upon the consummation of what they themselves called their -"marriage of escaped birds." - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN THE ROLE OF LA PRINCESSE NEGRONI.] - -[Illustration: HOUSE IN THE VILLAGE OF LES METZ, IN THE PARISH OF -JOUY-EN-JOSAS, SEINE-ET-OISE, - -In which Juliette Drouet lived while Victor Hugo was staying at Les -Roches. This is the house referred to in _La Tristesse d'Olympio_.] - - - - -CHAPTER III - -"LA TRISTESSE D'OLYMPIO" - - -In the neighbourhood of Paris, about four miles from Versailles, nestles -a valley which the modern devotees of romance should deem worthy of a -visit. Not because it boasts of any special features, such as mighty -torrents thundering from giddy heights into abysmal precipices below--on -the contrary, its character is harmonious and serene, more like a French -park decked with flowers by nature, and watered by chance--but because -in these classic surroundings, about the year 1830, circumstances led -the great men of the new school to seek temporary repose for their -fretted souls. To us, these peaceful meadows, flanked by pensive willows -weeping on the borders of the silent Bievres, must evermore be peopled -by those troubled shades: by Lammenais, the priestly keeper of -consciences, Montalembert, the angelic doctor, Sainte-Beuve, the -purveyor of ideas, Berlioz, the musician, and, lastly, by the poet, -Victor Hugo, who followed meekly in the rear, while awaiting the glory -of conducting the procession. - -They used to arrive in the summer, some for a couple of days, others for -weeks together, to stay with Monsieur Bertin, editor of the _Journal des -Debats_ and owner of Les Roches,[15] a property situated midway between -the villages of Bievres and Jouy-en-Josas. Genial and lively, as Ingres -represents him in his celebrated portrait, Monsieur Bertin loved to -divine, promote, and, where needful, encourage their vocations and -plans. His housekeeping was on a modest scale, but his hospitality -delightful--a mixture of go-as-you-please and kindly despotism; perfect -freedom outwardly, but, in reality, careful ministrations skilfully -disguised. Louise Bertin, the eldest daughter of the old man, and one of -the muses of the period, willingly divided her time between the kitchen -and the drawing-room, cookery-books and poems. As an ardent musician, -tolerably familiar with the best literature, her mind was full of -quaintness, while her heart was instinct with kindliness. When, -perchance, she had surfeited her guests with sonatas and song, she would -be seized with fear lest she should be interfering with their habits or -inclinations, and would hastily substitute anarchy, by commanding each -one to choose his own occupation, and pursue his meditation, walk, or -game unhindered. - -Of them all, Victor Hugo seems to have been the girl's favourite, and -the one who made the largest use of this generous welcome and charming -liberty. As soon as the periwinkles blossomed, he settled his wife and -children at Les Roches, while he himself came and went between Paris and -Bievres. Gradually he grew to associate the valley with his joys and -sorrows; it became one of those familiar haunts to which one -instinctively turns, with the comforting assurance of finding there the -outward conditions suitable to one's moods. As a young father, he made -it the fitting frame for family joys; when his love was flung back in -his face and his friendship betrayed, he returned to seek, if not -consolation, at least faith and hope for the future. A year later, again -under the shelter of Les Roches, he thought he had found solace. The -valley meant something more than an invitation to dawdle: it filled him -with sensuous suggestion; he longed to place his ideal of an -unquenchable love at the feet of a woman, and to pronounce the word -"Forever." - -With the connivance of Madame Victor Hugo, who shut her eyes, and that -of Mademoiselle Louise Bertin, who smiled her toleration,[16] this -happiness came to him at length; not indeed in the first year of his -passion for Juliette, but in the early part of the second. He brought -his mistress to Bievres and to Jouy on July 4th, 1834, a little before -the tragic crisis that so nearly separated the lovers, as we have -related in the foregoing chapter. - -Juliette immediately fell in love with the scenes the poet had so often -and so eloquently described to her. Of their joint visit to the Ecu de -France, the little inn at Jouy-en-Josas,[17] she drew up, in fun, one of -those mock official reports in which she excelled. They decided to -return and lunch, no matter where, or how, provided it was neither too -near nor too far from Les Roches. Then they set out in quest of rooms, -which they eventually found in the hamlet of Metz, on the summit of the -hill above Jouy on the northern side. They returned to Paris after -paying over to the proprietor, Sieur Labussiere, the sum of 92 frs. for -a year's rent. Thither they came in September for a sojourn of six -weeks, after the troubled interval described above. - -The little house does not seem to have been altered at all.[18] It was -originally built for the game-keeper of the neighbouring chateau, which -belonged to Cambaceres. It still spreads its white frontage, pierced -with green-shuttered windows, against the background of woods. It -consists only of a ground-floor and an attic; a rambling vine covers its -walls; around it are scattered a barn, some outhouses, and an orchard, -whose steep sides slope downwards to a gate opening on to the Jouy road. - -With the assistance of the landlady, Mere Labussiere, as she calls her, -Juliette undertook to perform the lighter tasks of housekeeping in the -mornings, and it was understood that Victor Hugo should visit her every -afternoon unless some grave impediment prevented him. - -But the walk from Les Roches to Les Metz was long: not much under two -miles, by rough roads. The lovers agreed therefore to meet half-way, by -a path settled beforehand, and to abandon the Labussiere roof-tree for -some leafy bower. Thus began, as Juliette writes, their "bird-life in -the woods." - -Victor Hugo had a choice of three ways when he went to meet his lady. -One led across the valley of Bievres; another, along the pavement,[19] -as the high road from Bievres to Versailles was called; and lastly there -was the woodland path, which they both preferred. Victor Hugo started by -the Vauboyau road, plunged into the woods skirting the boundary of the -Chateau of Les Roches, then, turning to the left, walked straight on as -far as the four cross-roads at l'Homme Mort, and bore to the right -towards the Cour Roland. There, in the hollow of a hundred-year-old -chestnut-tree, all bent and twisted, his lady-love would be awaiting -him. - -Clad in a dress of white jaconet striped with pink, such as she usually -affected, her head covered with an Italian straw hat, left over from the -days of her former affluence, with swelling bosom, rosy cheeks, and -smiling mouth, she resembled a flower springing from the rude calyx -formed by the aged tree. A wide-awake flower, indeed, for, from the -first sign of the approach of Victor Hugo, she would fly to him, and -afford him one more opportunity of admiring the far-famed aerial gait, -that fairy footstep, so light that it had been compared to the sound of -a lyre. - -Then followed kisses, caresses, a flood of soft words, more kisses, and -a rapid rush into the cool green depths whither the twitter of birds -invited them. When they issued forth again, silent now, Juliette walked -first, making it a point of honour to push aside the branches and thorns -before her poet; and he was content, gazing upon the tiny traces left -upon the moss or sand by the feet that looked almost absurd by reason -of their minuteness. - -At the far end of a clearing a fountain burbled. Juliette made a hollow -of her little hands and collected a delicious draught for their burning -lips. Drops dribbled from between her fingers, and, seeing them, her -lover knew that here was a fairy able to "transmute water into -diamonds."[20] - -We must not imagine, however, that the treasure of their love expended -itself entirely in this sportive fashion. If it be true that passion is -the stronger for an admixture of intellect, it follows that only persons -of distinguished parts are capable of extracting the full measure of -delight from sentimental intercourse. Victor Hugo was far too wise to -neglect the training of the sensibilities of his young mistress. Like -some block of rare marble, she submitted herself to this able sculptor -in the charming simplicity of a nature somewhat uncultivated and rugged, -as she herself owns, and he perceived in the formless material the -growing suggestion of the finished statue he was soon to evolve. The -forest was the studio whither he came every afternoon to cultivate, -through novel sensations and delights, his own poetry and eloquence. The -forest gave him colour for colour, music for music.... - -At other times Victor Hugo encouraged in Juliette an inclination for -prayer and tearful repentance. He retained, and she had always -possessed, strong Catholic sensibilities. The mere satisfaction of -sensuality without the hallowing influence of absorbing love spelt -defilement, from their point of view. Hence followed painful remorse for -a past which the lover liked to hear his mistress bewail, and which she -despaired of ever redeeming. Her _role_ was the abasement of Magdalen; -his, the somewhat strained attitude of an apostle or saviour. - -Nothing could be more peaceful or uneventful than Juliette's evenings. -She devoured with the appetite of an ogress the frugal supper put before -her by Madame Labussiere, repaired the damage done to her clothes by the -afternoon's ramble, or studied some of the parts in which she hoped to -appear sooner or later at the Theatre Francais. At ten o'clock she went -to bed. This was the much-prized moment of her solitude, when she -retired, as she says, into the happy background of her heart to rehearse -in spirit the simple events and delights of the day, to recall the face -of her lover, see him, speak to him, and hang upon his answers; then, as -drowsiness gradually gained the upper hand and clouds dimmed the dear -outline, to surrender to slumber. It was at Les Metz that she coined the -happy phrase: "I fall asleep in the thought of you." Sometimes the wind -moaning in the heights awoke her, and she resumed her sweet musing. The -poet was in the habit of working at night; she would picture him in his -room at Les Roches, bending over his writing-table. Then she "blessed -the gale that made her the companion of the dear little workman's vigil -across the intervening space." - -As soon as dawn broke she was up again. She jumped out of bed, ran to -the window, opened the shutters, and interrogated the heavens--not that -she feared rain, any more than she minded "blisters on her feet or -scratches on her hands"--but she had only two dresses, a woollen and a -linen, and the condition of the weather controlled her choice of the -two. Her toilet was rapid, her breakfast simple. She spent the remaining -time copying the manuscripts confided to her by Victor Hugo. Then, -lightly running, as she says, like a hare across the plain, she started -for the rendezvous. As becomes a loving woman, she was always first at -the trysting-tree. She scrutinised the intertwined initials she herself -had carved upon its bark, or conned again from memory the verses she had -found the day before in its hollow trunk. She "sings them in her heart," -presses them to her bosom, and kisses the letters she has brought in -answer. - -[Illustration: CHURCH OF BIEVRES, SEINE-ET-OISE.] - -For the chestnut-tree served them as a letter-box as well as a shelter. -According to an arrangement between them, the first thing they did on -arrival was to deposit within its friendly shade everything they had -written in the course of the preceding day for, or about, one another. -On Juliette's part, especially, the letters became more and more -numerous: two, four, sometimes six per day. She no longer wrote, as at -first, to expatiate upon her passion or assure the poet that she loved -him with real love, or to relieve boredom and make the hours of her -solitude pass more quickly. She wrote because Victor Hugo, who had -formerly been indifferent to her "scribbles," now exacted them as a -daily tribute, and reproached her if they were too brief or not numerous -enough. This jealous lover had discovered the advantages of a pretty -woman's mania for writing. When thus occupied, he reflected, she is -contented. He also found that her letters were full of enthusiasm, -humour, feeling, fun, and poetry, and he therefore desired that they -should be preserved; one day, when Juliette had thrown a packet of -them into the fire in a fit of temper, he made her write them all over -again. Juliette might protest prettily, entrench herself behind her -ignorance, and allege her want of intelligence; but the more she pleaded -that she knew not how to write, the more her lover insisted upon her -doing so. No one has ever carried to greater lengths that form of -affectation which consists in vilifying oneself in order to gain praise. -Having thus placed herself, as far as her style is concerned, in the -kneeling position she prefers, Juliette remains there. It is at Les Metz -that her letters commenced to be a hymn of praise in honour of her -divinity. Adoration and excessive adulation are their basis; for form -and imagery, Juliette does not hesitate to borrow from the sacred -writings she had studied at the Convent of Petit-Picpus. Sooth to say, -this mixture of religiosity and passion presents an aspect both -disproportionate and pathetic. When love raises itself--or degrades -itself--to this almost mystical adoration, one cannot be surprised if it -ends by believing in its own virtue. Having adopted the forms of -religion, it insensibly acquires its importance and dignity; it ennobles -itself. - -We do not possess Victor Hugo's answers, but partly from the note-books -in which his lady-love punctiliously copied and dated the poems -addressed to her, and partly from the dates inscribed at the bottom of -each page in the collected works of the poet, we know which of his -verses were composed during his sojourn at Les Metz. It is not too much -to say that the author of _Feuilles d'Automne_ was never more happily -inspired. Nowhere did he more closely approach the classical model he -had chosen at that time, the gentle Virgil. - -The lovers returned to Les Metz twice: once in October 1837 for a few -days, and again, for a day, on September 26th, 1845. In 1837 it was -Victor Hugo who directed the expedition and took the lead. He sought one -by one the traces of their _amours_; his eccentric genius admired -nature's grand indifference, which had failed to preserve them intact -for his honour and pleasure, and, deploring this ingratitude concerning -outward things, he composed that masterpiece, _La Tristesse d'Olympio_. -He laid it at the feet of Juliette, who accepted it, read and reread it, -and learnt it by heart, without criticising it. - -In 1845, the pilgrimage was hers; she planned it and begged for it, -writing on August 19th: "I have an inexpressible longing to see Les Metz -again. We absolutely must go there."[21] - -They did. Early in the month of September Juliette arranged the little -journey. Which dress should she wear? The striped organdy one, or the -blue tarlatan shot with white, she had worn a few months previously, at -the reception of St. Marc Girardin at the Academie Francaise? She chose -the former because her lover preferred it; the same reason determined -her to wear a straw hat "trimmed with geraniums above and below the -brim." Thus decked, with cheeks rosier than usual, and eyes glowing, -Juliette climbed with her poet into the omnibus from Paris to Sceaux. - -Victor Hugo disliked omnibuses, and especially that one. He remembered -his many drives in it with his friend Sainte-Beuve, at the time the -latter was most assiduous in his visits to Les Roches, and in spite of -himself he seemed to see the ghost of Joseph Delorme in the back seat, -with his ecclesiastical appearance, and his mania for nestling cosily -between two fat people. Silently the poet dwelt upon these memories, -while Juliette volubly recalled others. She wondered whether they would -find the beggar at the foot of the Bievres hill, into whose hands she -had often emptied her purse, in order that alms should bring them luck, -and whether the baker in the Square still made those little tarts her -lover used to be so fond of. At last the omnibus deposited them at -Bievres in front of the Chariot d'Or. The striped organdy dress created -a great sensation among the village children. Juliette rushed off to the -little church; nothing was changed--the same simplicity, the same -silence, the same brooding peace as in the old days. The young woman -fell on her knees, then, together, the lovers returned to the Chariot -d'Or, breakfasted, and started to walk to Les Roches. There again, in -Juliette's opinion, everything was unchanged. To the left, behind tall -grasses, the river flowed unseen and unheard. In deference to the needs -of man and those of the valley, its course had been diverted, and it now -spread itself through meadows and orchards. Its presence could be -divined from the abundance of flowers and reeds born of its moisture. -When they reached Les Roches, Juliette insisted upon abandoning the -valley for the forest. They ascended through Vauboyau to the wood of -l'Homme Mort. She walked straight to a chestnut-tree which she said she -recognised; then she found a mountain-ash upon whose bark she had once -carved their interlaced initials; after that the spring, and the paths. -She wished to revisit what she called "the chapels of their love," to -pay at each one a tribute of devotion.[22] - -At length they reached Les Metz and the house of the Labussiere. -Delirious enchantment! Everything was just as she remembered it: the -gate, the bell, the kitchen-garden, the mile-stone upon which she used -to sit to watch for her lover when the _rendezvous_ was at the cottage; -the bed, with its curtains of printed cotton, the rustic wardrobe, the -oak table.... "Heaven," she cried, "has put a seal upon all the -treasures of love we buried here! It has preserved them for us," and she -longed to take possession of them all and carry them away with her.[23] - -How charming Juliette is at this moment, and how superior to _Olympio_! -How preferable is her enthusiasm, with its power of bringing back to -life the dead past, to the melancholy which disparages and kills! One -sole interest animates her. Her instinct is creative, for where the poet -sees death she perceives life. The roses he thought faded and scattered, -she admires in full bloom; she can still breathe their perfume. From the -dust and ashes he has tasted and bewailed, she draws the savour of -honey. In this instance, surely, her love does not merely aspire to sit -on the heights with the poet's genius, as she claimed--it soars far -beyond it. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE SHACKLES OF LOVE - - -Victor Hugo never succeeded in making Juliette adopt his conception of -love. He craved something calm, placid, regular as a time-table in its -manifestations; but she was wont to object: "Such a love would soon -cease to exist. A fire that no longer blazes is quickly smothered in -ashes. Only a love that scorches and dazzles is worthy of the name. Mine -is like that." - -And indeed it would not be easy to name an object that this woman did -not cast into the crucible of her passion between the years 1834 and -1851. Everything was sacrificed--comfort, vanity, renown, talent, -liberty. Then she turned to her poet. She adopted his tastes, his -ambitions, his dreams for the future; she shared his joys and sorrows; -she exaggerated his qualities, and sometimes even his faults. She lived -only in him and for him. - -We are about to witness a completeness of self-abnegation that raises -Juliette Drouet almost to the level of the mystics of old; afterwards we -shall scrutinise one by one the details of the cult she rendered to -Victor Hugo. - - -I - -After selling the bulk of her furniture and quitting the luxurious -apartment she occupied at 35, Rue de l'Echiquier, Juliette, it will be -remembered, had settled down in a tiny lodging costing 400 frs. a year, -at 4, Rue de Paradis au Marais. She and Victor Hugo determined to live -there together, poor in purse, but rich in love and poetry.[24] The said -love and poetry must indeed have filled their horizon, for they have -left no account whatsoever of that first nesting-place. - -On March 8th, 1836, Juliette removed again to a somewhat more commodious -apartment: 14, Rue St. Anastase, at 800 frs. a year. It comprised a -drawing-room, dining-room, one bedroom, a kitchen, and an attic in which -her servant slept. This district has fallen into decay, and is now dull -and dreary. In those days it was chiefly occupied by the convent of the -Hospitaliers St. Anastase, whence the street took its name, and a few -houses more or less enclosed by gardens. The convent and gardens endowed -it with a provincial tranquillity and an impenetrable silence which -occasionally weighed upon Juliette's spirits. - -Her mode of life was not calculated to enliven her. A degree of poverty -bordering on squalor simplified its details. Little or no fire: Juliette -sometimes even lacks the logs she is by way of providing for herself. -Then she spends the morning in bed, reading, planning, day-dreaming. She -keeps careful accounts of her receipts and expenditure--accounts which -Victor Hugo afterwards audits most minutely. When she rises, the cold -does not prevent her from writing cheerfully, "If you seek warmth in -this room you will have to seek it at the bottom of my heart." - -All luxuries in the way of food were reserved, as in duty bound, for -the suppers the master honoured with his presence after the theatre. The -rest of the time Juliette ate frugally, breakfasting on eggs and milk, -dining on bread and cheese and an apple. When her daughter visited her -she treated her to an orange cut into slices and sprinkled with a -pennyworth of sugar and a pennyworth of brandy. The same simplicity -reigned on high-days and holidays. - -Juliette also denied herself useless fripperies and reduced to the -strictest limits the expenses of her wardrobe. Everything she was able -to make or mend, she made and mended, and it gratified her to compute -the money she saved thus in dressmakers. The rest she bought very -cheaply or did without. In the month of August 1838, when she was about -to start on a journey with Victor Hugo, she found herself in need of -shoes, a dress, and a country hat. She bought the shoes, manufactured -the dress, and had intended to borrow the hat from Madame Kraft; but -this lady, who held some minor post at the Comedie Francaise, only wore -feathered hats, so Juliette curses the extravagance that places her in -an awkward predicament. A little later, on May 7th, 1839, she wanted to -furbish up her mantle with ribbon velvet at 5_d._ a yard; but she found -that she could not do with less than eight yards and a half. She bemoans -her extravagance, saying, "Why, oh, why have I let myself in for this!" - -In studying Juliette's financial position one wonders that so much -privation should be necessary, for, from the very beginning, Victor Hugo -allowed her 600 or 700 frs. a month. He afterwards increased this sum to -800, and finally to 1,000 frs. in 1838, when he began to get better -terms from publishers and theatre-managers. Surely such a sum should -provide ordinary comforts--there should be no suggestion of squalid -poverty? - -The fact is that, in 1834, Victor Hugo had only paid off the most -pressing of Juliette's debts; but the result of his doing so was to -rouse the energies of the rest of the creditors, and Juliette was -overwhelmed by them. Sometimes she managed to pacify them by quaint -expedients. For instance, to Zoe, her former maid, she offered, in place -of wages, a box for _Angelo_; to Monsieur Maniere, her legal adviser, -she promised that, if he would extend her credit, "Monsieur Victor Hugo -should read with interest" a certain plan of political organisation of -which the said Maniere was the author, but which alas, does not yet -figure in the archives of the French constitution! But more often she -was forced to pay, and she had to save off food or dress. Then it was -that money was skimped from the butcher and grocer to satisfy the former -milliner or livery-stable keeper. In the month of May 1835, out of 700 -frs. received, the creditors obtained 316; in June they got another 347; -in July 278. Another cause for pecuniary embarrassment was the -irregularity of Pradier's contribution to the maintenance of his and -Juliette's child. Very often, but for Victor Hugo's assistance, this -item would have been added to the sum-total of her debts. But Juliette -bore everything with the blitheness of a bird. She, who had hated -accounts and arithmetic, now devoted her attention to them every day, -sometimes more than once a day; she, who loathed poverty, encountered -the most sordid privations with a smile; she, who once throve upon debts -and promises to pay, now exclaimed: "I would do anything rather than -fall into debt. How hideous and degrading such a thing is, and how -splendid and noble of you, my adored one, to love me in spite of my -past!"[25] - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO ABOUT 1836. - -From a picture by Louis Boulanger (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -In these circumstances, it is not surprising that she began to seek in -work, especially theatrical work, an addition to her private resources. -She took her career as an artist very seriously, and it was a great -disappointment to her that her lover failed to desire her as an -interpreter of his parts. He certainly did not. He allowed his jealousy -full play, and wished to keep Juliette for himself alone. His tactics -seem to have been to dangle promises ever before her, but to give her -nothing; to procure dramatic engagements for her, and prevent her from -fulfilling them. - -In February 1834 he introduced Juliette to the Comedie Francaise, but a -year later he declined to give her the smallest part in _Angelo_, which -was produced there. In the course of 1836, 1837, 1838, he allowed Marie -Dorval to monopolise all the important _roles_ in his former plays, and -never once attempted to put Juliette's name at the head, or even in the -middle, of the bill. Yet he gave her fine promises in plenty, encouraged -her to learn long passages from _Marion_ and _Dona Sol_, and vowed he -would some day write a play for her alone. - -Thus kept in the background, Juliette passed through exhausting -alternations of despair and confidence, gratitude and jealousy. For, as -may easily be imagined, she was terribly jealous, and her suspicious -mind exercised itself chiefly concerning actresses, whose lively manners -and easy morals she knew, by professional experience. There was Mlle. -Georges, already growing stout, no doubt, but ever ready to raise her -banner and exercise her accustomed sovereignty. There was Mlle. Mars, -who, though her looks were a thing of the past, still endeavoured to -attract attention. Above all, there was Marie Dorval. - -Ah, how Juliette envied Dorval! How she studied her in order to arm -herself against her fancied rivalry! How often she took her moral -measure! She knew that she was of the people, that she tingled with -vitality from head to foot, that, though her primary impulses were -virtuous, nature was yet strong within her.... She was well acquainted -with "the voice that quivered with tears and made its insinuating appeal -to the heart."[26] - -Could Juliette fail to dread such a woman, one so versed by the practice -of her profession in the wiles that attract men? Could she refrain from -warning her lover against her, day after day, like one draws attention -to a danger, a scourge, or a tempest? Far from it--she threatened to -return to the theatre, to act in her lover's plays, to be present at -every rehearsal, to vie with her rival in beauty and talent and ardour. -She learnt parts, and whole scenes, and filled her solitude with the -pleasing phantoms her lover had once created, and that she dreamed of -restoring to life on the stage. - -Months passed; delicate circumstances obliged her to relinquish her plan -of appearing at the Theatre Francais.[27] She was on the verge of -despair when, one evening in the spring of 1838, her lover brought her a -new play he wished to read to her, according to his invariable custom. -It was _Ruy Blas_. She at once claimed the part of Marie de Neubourg, -and fell in love with the melancholy little queen who was hampered and -hemmed in by the trammels of etiquette, as she herself was imprisoned -within the limits of her icy apartment in the Rue St. Anastase. Victor -Hugo asked for nothing better. He intended _Ruy Blas_ for the Theatre de -la Renaissance, which was under the management of his friend, Antenor -Joly. He requested the worthy fellow to engage Juliette, and the -agreement was signed early in May. - -We can picture the delight with which Juliette set about copying the -play; nevertheless, she was assailed by melancholy fears: "I shall never -play the queen," she wrote; "I am too unlucky. The thing I desire most -on earth is not destined to be realised." And it is a fact that the part -was taken from her almost as soon as it was given. - -After 1839 her longing to go back to the stage calmed down gradually. At -the end of that year it had completely faded. Her love's tranquillity -was greatly increased thereby, while she was driven to immerse herself -still more completely in her amorous solitude and the disadvantages -pertaining thereto. - -For, in the same degree that he deprecated her being seen on the stage, -Victor Hugo detested the thought of her going out alone, and he had -managed to extract a promise from her that she would never make one step -outside the house without him. She was, therefore, practically as much a -prisoner as any chatelaine of the Middle Ages, or heroine of some of the -sombre dramas she had formerly played. She had not even permission to go -and see her daughter at school at St. Mande, and, rather than trust her -by herself, the poet would escort her to the dressmaker and milliner, -or on her visits to the uncle whose name she bore, and who lay dying at -the Invalides, to the money-lender's, and curiosity-shop, and even the -ironmonger's! - -When Victor Hugo thus lent himself to her needs, all went well, and -Juliette, proud and happy, arm in arm with her "dear little man," -chattered away blithely. But a time came when the lover, monopolised by -other cares, perhaps by other intrigues, was no longer so assiduous. -Then the mistress protested and rebelled, with the fierce rage of a -prisoned beast of the forest, bruising itself against the bars of its -cage, in its agony for freedom. - -Victor Hugo met her remonstrances with gentle reasoning and persuasive -exhortations. However far Juliette went in her transports of anger, he -was always able to pacify her. On September 27th, 1836, at the end of a -long period during which the poet had not been able to give his friend -even what she called the "joies du preau"--that is to say, a walk round -the Boulevards--Juliette threatens to break out. For several weeks she -has been attributing the sickness and headaches she constantly suffers -from, to her sedentary life. Losing all patience, she addresses an -ultimatum to him, proposing an assignation in a cab on the Boulevard du -Temple. He does not appear. For three hours she waits inside the -vehicle, then, in the certainty that he has failed her, she writes a -letter in pencil, dated from the cab, No. 556, stating her intention to -fetch her daughter and go off somewhere, anywhere, alone with her. -"Thus," she writes, "I shall free myself for ever from a slavery which -satisfies neither my heart nor my mind, and does not secure the repose -of either of us." - -However, the next day she did not start. She did not go out at all. She -had resumed her chains and her prison garb. Her anger always evaporated -thus, and turned to melancholy and resigned gentleness. In the end she -came to feel that nothing existed for her, save a lover who sometimes -came and sometimes stayed away. If he was present, she was alive; if -absent, her mainspring was broken. - -But Victor Hugo continued to lead an ordinary life, while his mistress -spent her days in the confinement of a cloister. It was probably about -this time that Juliette resolved to set up in that cloister an altar for -the cult of her lover. Finding herself impotent to attract and keep him -by the sole charm of passion, she endeavoured to win him over by -devotion, minute attentions, tender interest in everything he undertook, -and by unbridled adoration of his person and work. - - -II - -According to Juliette, who secured several stolen meetings in the poet's -own house,[28] Victor Hugo suffered from a complete absence of the most -ordinary comfort at home. His lamps smoked, as did his chimney on the -rare occasions when a fire was lighted; he worked in a "horrible little -ice-house," with insufficient light and a half-empty inkstand; his bed -was wretched, the mattress stuffed with what he termed nail-heads; when -he dressed he found his shirts button-less and his coats unbrushed--as -for his shoes, Juliette was ashamed of their condition. We learn from -Theophile Gautier that the author of _Hernani_ was a hearty eater, but -that his meals were served up in confusion: cutlets with beans in oil, -beef and tomato sauce with an omelette, ham with coffee, vinegar, -mustard, and a piece of cheese. He made short work of this extraordinary -mixture, and no doubt was often reminded of a line his mistress had once -written to him on the subject: "When I think of what you are and what -you do, and of the discomfort in which you live, I am filled with -admiring pity." - -With the instinct of a loving woman and the resource of a clever one, -Juliette was quick to take advantage of the human side of her god, and -to supply him with the personal care he needed. She trained herself to -be a _cordon bleu_ and a sick nurse, a tailor and a cobbler. If Victor -Hugo went to the theatre he found on his return to the Rue St. Anastase, -a dainty repast of chicken, salad, and the milky puddings he liked, and -all the year round a dessert of grapes, a fruit he had always been fond -of. Juliette served him "kneeling"--so at least she affirms. She took -umbrage if he did not allow her to select for him the biggest asparagus -and the thickest cream. He was happy, so was she. If he had an attack of -that "cursed internal inflammation which sometimes affected his head and -sometimes his eyes," his mistress would prepare liniments, tisanes, herb -soups, which the romanticist meekly swallowed. She assumed a maternal -manner, kissed him, coaxed him with soft words, tried to feed him with -her own hands, and regretted that she could not give him her own health -and take his indisposition upon herself. If he complained of the paucity -and untidiness of his wardrobe, Juliette mended his socks and linen, -ironed his white waistcoats, removed grease-stains from his coat, made -him a smoking-jacket out of an old theatre-cloak, and manufactured "a -capital greatcoat lined with velvet, with collar and cuffs of the best -silk velvet, out of another." Thus she managed by degrees to collect -nearly all the poet's clothes in her own room; his ordinary suits, as -well as those he wore on great occasions, such as a reception at the -Academie, or a sitting of the House. On one occasion she writes, in -gentle self-mockery: "I was sorry, after you went, that I had not made -you put on your cashmere waistcoat to-night; it was mended and quite -ready for you. This morning I have been tidying all your things. Your -coat occupies the place of honour in my wardrobe; your waistcoat and tie -hang above my mantle, your little shoes and silk socks below. In default -of yourself I cling to your duds, look after them, and clean them with -delight." - -But Juliette's great achievement, her triumph, was to create in her tiny -apartment the right atmosphere for her poet to work in. His custom was -to collect his thoughts during the day, and work them out at night. -Juliette made him a cosy corner in her bedroom, close to her bed. She -fitted it up with a table, an arm-chair, a lamp, and an ink-pot. Above -the chair she hung portraits of his children, to make him feel at home. -On the table, sheets of paper and freshly cut pens attested the presence -and care of a devotee of genius. Whenever he came in the evening the -poet settled down in what he himself called his work-room. His -methodical habits and strong will enabled him to abstract himself from -his environment and devote himself strictly to his labours as an author. -Besides, he was under the impression that Juliette was fast asleep; but -in that he did her less than justice. Sleep while he worked! Juliette -could never have brought herself to do so. She watched him, and admired -him. Sometimes she seized a pencil to scribble on any scrap of paper the -expression of her veneration, and when the poet had finished he would -find little notes such as the following: "I love to watch even your -shadow on the page while you write."[29] - -That a poet should allow his person to be thus worshipped is nothing -new; that he should desire to be admired in his works is still more -natural. Juliette guessed this, and acquired the habit of applauding the -slightest achievement of the master with loving enthusiasm. Part of the -day she spent in copying his manuscripts, classifying them, making them -as like as possible to printers' proofs; and it may easily be imagined -that she occupied much time reading them over and over again. Everything -he wrote was equally sublime in her eyes. If she permitted herself to -show preference for this or that work, it was only on condition that she -should not be supposed to be depreciating some other. In 1846, Victor -Hugo having arranged to make a speech in the House on the "consolidation -and defence of the frontier," Juliette read it no less than three times: -once in _La Presse_, again in _Le Messager_, and a third time in _La -Presse_ again. She made extracts from it and put it away among his -archives; she then wrote gravely to the author, that he had never been -more pathetic or more eloquent. In the same manner she hoarded all his -most trivial sketches and poorest caricatures, and pasted them into -albums which she carefully hid. She was envious of Leopoldine, the -poet's daughter, who was doing the same thing, and naturally had more -opportunities than herself of adding to the collection. - -She was more greedy still of his theatrical output, for there her -jealousy came into play. It is safe to affirm that for more than fifteen -years, namely from 1834 to 1851, she interested herself in every single -representation of the dramas of Victor Hugo. She was present at the -Theatre Francais on the first night of _Angelo_ on April 28th, 1835, and -wished to go again on all the following nights, in spite of the bitter -disappointment the play had caused her, through the frustration of her -ambition to take part in it. She was there on February 20th, 1838, for -the revival of _Hernani_; and on March 8th following, it was she who -applauded Marie Dorval loudest, at the revival of _Marion Delorme_. -While _Les Burgraves_ was being written she demanded to know all about -it from its earliest conception, and achieved her wish. When Victor Hugo -read the play to her, she was very much moved and said: "I hardly know -how to descend to earth again from the sublime altitude of your -conception." She took part in the distribution of the _roles_, and -intrigued against Mlle. Maxime and Madame FitzJames, whom she did not -want for Guanhumara.[30] She championed Madame Melingue, who, in -consequence, obtained the part. At last the first night arrived. There -was a cabal, a violent, aggressive cabal, a sign of the reaction of the -new practical school against the romantic school. Who sat in a -prominent box and opposed the firmest front to the hissing crowd? -Juliette! Who ventured to accuse Beauvallet of murdering the part of the -Duke Job? Juliette again! "To applaud thus your beautiful verses," she -wrote on March 13th, "and hurl myself into the fray in their defence is -only another way of making love. Ah, I wish I could be a man on the -nights the play is given![31] I promise you the subscribers of the -_Nationale_ and the _Constitutionel_ would see strange things!" - -The afternoons hung heavy in the lonely apartment of the Rue St. -Anastase. Sometimes the poet looked in for a moment to bathe his eyes, -or claim some other domestic attention; but, as a rule, his visits were -made in the evening, after the parties and the theatre. His mistress, -therefore, begged, and obtained, permission to receive a few of her -friends. They were insignificant, but warm-hearted folk: Madame Lanvin, -the wife of one of Pradier's employes, who acted as intermediary, partly -honorary and partly paid, between the sculptor and the mother of Claire -Pradier; Madame Kraft, an employee of the Comedie Francaise who affected -literary culture; Madame Pierceau, a worthy matron, and, lastly, Madame -Bezancenot, a tried ally. - -As a rule, Victor Hugo tolerated the presence of this little company; -but, democratic though he might be in principle, it palled upon him -before long, and he made some remonstrance. Then Juliette revealed to -him that her need to talk about him had driven her to institute a -regular course of "Hugolatry" among the good ladies. They made a -practice of reading his poems, declaiming his plays, and showering -praise on the independence of his character and the dignity of his life. -In the face of such delicate proofs of the affection she bore him, it is -not surprising that the poet should have entrusted to Juliette his most -sacred hopes and ambitions. She was one of those in whom a lover may -always confide, in the certainty of being ever sustained, encouraged, -and approved. Thus it came about that she was cognisant of every effort -Victor Hugo made, every step he took, and even of the intrigues by which -he climbed gradually to the Academie Francaise, then to the Tuileries -and the little court of Neuilly, and finally to the Chambre des Pairs. - - -III - -Not that Juliette herself ever cherished special veneration for kings, -princes, peers, or Academicians. Democratic and republican by the -accident of birth, as she herself wrote, she likewise detested, on -principle, everything that seemed likely to attract or keep Victor Hugo -away from the Rue St. Anastase. Her first inclination, therefore, was to -criticise with acerbity Academies, drawing-rooms, politics, and Courts; -but the poet's determination was not of the quality that is easily -weakened by remonstrances. Juliette knew this. As soon as she realised -that the _habit vert_ was really the object of her idol's desire, and -that he had set his whole heart upon obtaining it, she abandoned her -opposition and only indulged in gentle mockery calculated to cover the -retreat of the unsuccessful candidate, and deprive it as much as -possible of bitterness. - -For Victor Hugo was, above all, an unfortunate candidate, at any rate -of the Academie. In February 1836 he was refused Laine's _fauteuil_, and -it was given to a vaudevilliste of the period, called Dupaty. At the end -of November of the same year, Mignet was preferred before him, for -Raynouard's vacancy. In December 1839, rather than select Hugo, nobody -was appointed in the place of Michaud. In February 1840, precedence over -him was given to the permanent secretary of the Academie des Sciences, -Monsieur Flourens. It was not until January 7th, 1841, that he was -elected to Lemercier's _fauteuil_ by seventeen votes, against fifteen -given to a dramatist called Ancelot, whose name an ungrateful posterity -no longer remembers. - -In all the peregrinations required by these five successive -candidatures, Victor Hugo was invariably accompanied by Juliette. On -December 24th, 1835, she writes to him: "One point on which I will -tolerate no nonsense, is your visits. I insist upon accompanying you, so -that I may know how much time you spend with the wives and daughters of -the Academicians. I shall, by the same means, be able to gather up a few -crumbs of your society for myself, which is no small consideration." - -The visits were begun between Christmas and the New Year, in cold, dry, -sunny weather. Clad in black according to prescribed custom, Victor Hugo -fetched his friend every day from the Rue St. Anastase, got into a cab -with her, and showed her the plan for the afternoon: at such and such a -time they must lay siege to Monsieur de Lacretelle; after that, to -Monsieur Royer-Collard; then to Monsieur Campenon. Monsieur de -Lacretelle was too diplomatic not to give plenty of promises and -assurances; Monsieur Royer-Collard too good a Jansenist to fail in a -blunt refusal to the author of _Hernani_. As for Monsieur Campenon, he -had the reputation of being an honest man and an excellent amateur -gardener. His conversation bristled with graftings and buddings. How -should he humour him about his favourite pursuit, Victor Hugo asked his -friend. Should he select roses or pears, myrtle or cypress? As the good -creature was getting on in years, and counted more summers than literary -successes, Victor Hugo unkindly inclined towards the last. - -Juliette laughed merrily, and the poet would climb up numerous stairs, -and return with a stock of entertaining anecdotes, which filled the cab -with fun and colour and life. Then followed calculations of his chances; -if they seemed promising, Juliette congratulated her "immortal," as she -called him in anticipation; if not, she made fun of the Academie once -more. - -At the end of the year the whole performance began over again. As in -1835, Juliette pretended not to attach much importance to the election -of her lover, but this did not prevent her from hotly abusing the -Academie when, a month later, the society again closed its portals to -the leader of the romantic school. - -It is the privilege of the Academie Francaise to be most courted by -those who have oftenest sneered at it. No institution has ever been the -cause of so much recantation. Juliette herself was to eat her words. On -Thursday, January 7th, 1841, when Victor Hugo had at last triumphed over -his brother candidate, it was no longer a mistress who wrote to him, but -a general addressing a panegyric of victory to a hero: "With your -seventeen friendly votes, and in spite of the fifteen groans of your -adversaries, you are an Academician! What happiness! You ought to bring -your beautiful face to me to be kissed." - -Victor Hugo yielded to her gallant desire, as may be imagined, and -forthwith began to prepare for his reception. The poet aimed at a -magniloquent and comprehensive speech which should embrace all the great -names and ideas of the past, present, and future; something as vast as -the empire of Charlemagne, and as noble as the genius of Napoleon. -Juliette, on her side, dreamed of a dress of white tarlatan mounted in -broad pleats and decorated with a rose-coloured scarf, like the one she -had once admired on the shoulders of Madame Volnys, a hated rival at the -Comedie Francaise. - -Although the speech was only to be delivered in June, Victor Hugo had it -ready by April 10th; he read it to his admiring friend the same night. -The white tarlatan dress, alas, was longer on the way. Several reasons -conspired against its completion. First of all, Juliette declared that -she would concede to nobody the honour of presenting the new member with -his lace ruffles: this involved an expenditure of about 23 frs., a heavy -toll on the exchequer of the lovers. Secondly, Victor Hugo's reception -was to fall upon nearly the same date as the first communion of -Juliette's daughter, Claire Pradier, which was yet another cause of -expense. The young woman bravely sacrificed her frock, and, having -consoled herself by making a fair copy of the master's splendid speech, -she awaited the great day. But at the very moment she hoped to see it -dawn without further disappointment, malicious fate brought her, and -consequently Victor Hugo and the Academie, face to face with a fresh -dilemma of the gravest importance, namely, the question of the pulpit -for the momentous occasion. - -The time-honoured affair was a wooden erection of mean appearance, -stained to represent mahogany. On ordinary days it was contemned and -relegated to the lumber-room of the Bibliotheque de l'Institut; but, on -the occasion of the reception of a new member, custom prescribed that it -should be placed under the cupola, in front of the agitated neophyte. -Etiquette demanded that the latter should place upon it his gloves and -the notes of his address; but the rickety thing had already borne so -much eloquence in the past, that it tottered under the weight of its -responsibilities. It stood weakly upon a crooked pedestal, in imminent -danger of subsidence. Instead of being a haughty pulpit, equal to any -occasion, it seemed to offer humble apology for its absurd existence. - -Such was the farcical object Victor Hugo had to interpose between -himself and Juliette, on the day of the great ceremonial. She lost her -sleep over it; for a time, even the lace ruffles, and the speech, and -the white tarlatan dress and rose-coloured scarf, retired into the -background: "I am in a state of inexpressible agitation and worry over -this wretched pulpit," she wrote. "I shall be just at the back of it. I -am in perfect despair! Truly, since this apprehension has taken -possession of me, I have become the most wretched of women. I think if I -cannot see your handsome, radiant face that day, nothing will keep me -from bursting into sobs of rage and misery. The very thought fills my -eyes with tears."[32] - -In spite of himself, Victor Hugo shared one characteristic with Jean -Racine: he could not bear to see a pretty woman cry. He therefore took -decisive measures, and managed to assuage his friend's grief. Juliette -was assured that, whatever happened, she should contemplate her "dear -little orator" at her ease--that is to say, from head to foot. -Unfortunately, it was ordained that calmness should not inhabit this -passionate soul for long together. The night preceding the reception, -Juliette felt frightfully nervous, and, while Victor Hugo sat up -correcting the proofs of his discourse at the Imprimerie Royale, she -retired, saying irritably: "I am like the savages who take to their beds -when their wives give birth to children." At 4.30 a.m. she was already -up, wrote several letters to her lover, dressed, and hurried to the -Palais Nazarin, where she took up a position in the front row, before -even the platoon of infantry detailed for guard had arrived. - -According to the testimony of Victor Hugo's enemies as well as of his -friends, the reception surpassed in dignity and brilliancy anything the -cupola had previously witnessed. The Court was represented by the Duc -and Duchesse d'Orleans, the Duchesse de Nemours, and the Princesse -Clementine, in a tribune. Fashionable society and the world of letters -jostled each other on the benches. There were women everywhere, even -beside the most ancient and prim of Academicians. Old Monsieur Jay was -partially concealed under billows of laces, gauzes, silks, and satins, -worn by his neighbours, Madame Louise Colet and Mlle. Doze. Monsieur -Etienne waggled his head between two monstrous hats so beflowered that, -with one movement, he disturbed the _fleurs du Perou_ of Madame Thiers, -and with the next, he ruffled the bunches of roses on Madame Anais -Segalas' head. - -[Illustration: "LE CITOYEN VICTOR HUGO JOUANT AU CONGRES DE LA PAIX." - -Political caricature, 1849.] - -Juliette saw nothing of all this; neither did she heed the irrelevant -babble of her neighbour on the right, Monsieur Desmousseaux of the -Comedie Francaise, or of her guest on the left, Madame Pierceau. She was -in a state of painful, yet delicious turmoil, and when Victor Hugo made -his entry, she nearly fainted. Fortunately, the poet gave her a smiling -look before beginning his speech, which restored her to life; and she -settled down to listen to his eloquent words, as if she had not already -written them out until she knew them by heart. To-day they seemed -invested with fresh beauties, and she gave herself up to the enjoyment -of the moment. The magnificent imagery which decked Victor Hugo's first -address at the Academie, concealed calculation of the most worldly wise -description. Victor Hugo aspired to the Chambre des Pairs as a -stepping-stone to a power which would assist him to develop the moral -and social mission he deemed to be the true function of a poet. To -achieve this aim it was necessary that he should first belong to one of -the societies from among which alone the King could legally select the -members of that Assembly. The Academie was one of these, hence the -successive candidatures of the poet, and the special tone of his -discourse, in which all the political parties were blandished and -caressed alike; hence, finally, the visits to Court, which increased in -frequency after 1841. - -Just as Juliette had practically burned in effigy almost all the -Academicians of her time before she had the opportunity of becoming -acquainted with them and finding them charming, so she began by -criticising and censuring Louis Philippe and his children with the -greatest severity. Were not these people going to wrest her poet from -her? And for what? For the sake of empty honours and useless -occupations! Therefore we find Juliette preaching to her lover the -contempt of earthly greatness. She was fiercely jealous of the -citizen-king. - -In order to calm her apprehensions, Victor Hugo had only to reveal to -her his secret plans; from the first moment that he mentioned the Pairie -to her, she became complacent and Orleaniste. Whether the poet went to -harangue the widow of the soldier-prince in the name of the Academie, -after the accident of 1842, or whether he paid her a private visit, -Juliette always insisted upon accompanying him to Neuilly, and there she -would wait, sitting in a cab outside, whilst her lover coined honeyed -phrases inside the palace. - -The Duchesse was German, simple, a good mother, and deeply religious. Of -Victor Hugo's works, the only one she was familiar with was No. XXXIII. -of the _Chants du Crepuscule, Dans L'Eglise de...._ - - "C'etait une humble eglise au cintre surbaisse, - L'eglise ou nous entrames, - Ou depuis trois cents ans avaient deja passe, - Et pleure des ames." - -The good lady probably thought these verses had been composed in a -moment of deep fervour, in honour of a respected spouse. She -congratulated the poet, quoted some of the lines to him, questioned him -minutely about his children--and, while he enlarged on these domestic -topics, the real heroine of the beautiful poetry so dear to the -Duchesse, sat waiting below in the cab ... dreaming of the future peer -of France; she already saw him in imagination descending the great -staircase of the Luxembourg, with a demeanour full of dignity. For her -part, she was more than ever content to remain at the foot of the steps, -in a posture of humility, among the crowd of watchers.... When the poet -issued at last from the ducal apartments, she would tell him her dream, -and he would complacently acquiesce. - -The appointment of Victor Hugo to the Pairie appeared in the _Moniteur_ -of April 15th, 1845. It must be left to politicians to determine in what -degree the presence of "Olympio" could profit the councils of the -nation; but to Juliette's biographer the entry of her lover into the -Luxembourg seems a felicitous event. From that moment, in fact, the -young woman ceased to be cloistered. Busier than ever, and perhaps less -jealous, the poet permitted his mistress to accompany him to the -Luxembourg and to return alone to the Marais. At first Juliette hardly -knew how to take this unfamiliar freedom. With her lover absent, she had -grown accustomed to semi-obscurity. The blatant sunshine seemed to mock -her loneliness. She writes: "Nobody can feel sadder than I do, when I -trudge through the streets alone. I have not done such a thing for -twelve years, and I ask myself what it may portend. Is it a mark of your -confidence or of your indifference? Perhaps both. In any case, I am far -from content." - -Gradually, however, she fell into the new ways. She used to walk back -from the Luxembourg by way of the Pont-Neuf and the Quais. She amused -herself by trying to trace the footsteps of Victor Hugo and fit her own -little shoes into them. When she reached home, she immersed herself -deeper than ever in the preoccupations of her lover. - -Occasionally, fortunately, she had a reaction. She read little: the -letters of Madame de Sevigne, perhaps, or those of Mlle. de Lespinasse. -She tended her flowers; for Victor Hugo had made her remove from No. 14 -to No. 12 Rue St. Anastase, where her ground-floor rooms opened on to a -garden.[33] There, in a space of sixty square feet, she had four bushes -of crimson roses, and a few dozen prolific strawberry-plants, destined -to furnish the poet's favourite dessert, throughout the summer. She -attended to all the most trivial details in person, making them all -subservient to her love. - -In this wise--with the exception of a few bouts of jealousy of which we -shall have occasion to speak later, Juliette's days flowed almost -happily. She no longer brooded over her past; redemption through love -seemed to her an accomplished fact. When she turned to the future, it -was with ideas borrowed from Victor Hugo certainly, but none the less -consoling, since they authorised her to hope for the eternal reunion of -souls beyond the confines of this earth. On December 31st, 1842, the -poet had dedicated some delicate verses to her, which she learned by -heart. They were part of a creed by which Juliette hoped to fortify her -soul against the arrows of fortune--hopes fallacious in the event. First -death, then treachery, were about to rend her faithful heart as a -child's toy is smashed. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -CLAIRE PRADIER - - -About the year 1844, when Victor Hugo visited his friend on Sundays and -holidays, he used to find seated at his private table, in accordance -with his own permission, a tall girl of eighteen, very fair, very pale, -with very black eyes--two prunes, as he said, dropped in a saucer of -milk. Often she did not hear him enter. Bending her willowy neck and -undeveloped bust over her books, she was immersed in study, perhaps also -in reverie. Sometimes he kissed her affectionately, at other times bowed -formally. The lowly assistant-mistress of a suburban school, marvelling -at the great man's condescension, would rise blushing, and submit her -pale brow to his lips. She would then ask permission to return to her -task: the examinations were near at hand, and, as she was going in for a -diploma, she must work. - -Sometimes Victor Hugo smilingly took up the books scattered on the -table, weighed the value of each with a glance, then, pushing them all -aside with the back of his hand, sat down, saying: "Now then, Claire, I -will be your tutor to-day," and the lesson began, vivid, enthusiastic, -brilliant as a poem. - -The reader would be justly disappointed if we failed to relate the story -of the girl to whom this "magician of words" thus unveiled the beauties -of the French language. Besides, a deeper acquaintance with the -daughter may lead to a better understanding of the mother; therefore, we -append a short sketch of Claire Pradier. - - -I - -She was born in Paris in 1826. Her father, the sculptor, undertook the -care of her early childhood, while her mother, as we have learnt, was in -Germany and Belgium. He put her out to nurse at Vert, near Mantes, with -a married couple named Dupuis, and sometimes combined a visit to her -with a little sport, in the shooting season. - -He brought her back to Paris on October 15th, 1828. From letters of his -which have been preserved, we are justified in believing that he derived -some satisfaction from his educational role. His pen is prolific in -praise of the child with "the locks of pale gold," "the roguish brown -eyes," "the apple-red cheeks," whose "nose ends in a pretty tilt" which -reminds him agreeably of Juliette's. - -He discovers in his daughter a fine nature, plenty of intelligence, and -so much feeling, that he hesitates for a time whether he shall apply his -efforts to checking its development, or to cultivating it--in the first -case, he would turn Claire into a semi-idiot in order not to let her -passions become too strong for her happiness, and in the second, he -might make of her an artist capable of the most splendid impulses and -the noblest fulfilment. - -If Pradier is to be believed, the child herself decided in favour of the -latter. At the age of three, guided by paternal suggestion in the studio -of the Rue de l'Abbaye, she chose for her favourite plaything a stuffed -swan. From her games with this handsomely fashioned bird she imbibed a -taste for pure lines and fine pose. She also listened to music given at -Pradier's house by sculptors and painters who aped the art of Ingres. -She derived so much delight from it that she could never afterwards meet -any of these self-engrossed performers without begging for a kiss. -Finally, by his studies of dress, his clever manipulation of draperies, -which he always preferred to the higher parts of his profession, Pradier -taught her to appreciate light and colour. She had a vivid appreciation -of the latter, and, during her short life, a mere trifle such as the -blue of the sky, or the tint of a rose, gave her the most exquisite -pleasure. - -Having thus cultivated the sensibilities of the flower committed to his -charge, Pradier was rewarded by the prestige attached to his role of -master and guide; the father reaped in tenderness what the artist had -expended in intelligence and effort. From her earliest infancy Claire -showed a marked preference for this man, so ardent, so gay, who taught -her to breathe and live among works of art; all her life she felt for -him an affection that neither his mistakes nor his carelessness, or even -his injustice, could damp. Meanwhile, ever prolific in good intentions, -always ready with vows and promises, the artist was forming high hopes -and ambitions for his daughter. - -"We must hope," he wrote to Juliette on that October 15th, 1828, when he -took the child away from her nurse, "that she will live to grow up, and -that we shall make a distinguished personage of her." A little later, on -September 28th, 1829, he writes: "Dear friend, you are fortunate in the -possession of a Claire who will be a great solace to you in your old -age." Again, on July 4th, 1832: "Who can love her better than I do, -especially now that I see her rare intelligence developing so -satisfactorily and encouragingly for our designs?" - -He planned for his little daughter the most singular and unexpected -gifts: once it was to be the proceeds of his bust of Chancellor -Pasquier, a commission he owed to Juliette and her friendship with the -subject; another time it was the price of a house he possessed at Ville -d'Avray and wished to sell; again, he designed to settle upon Claire the -sum of 2,000 frs. he had lent to a cousin--fine words, as empty as the -hollow mouldings that decorated the studio of the man. The cousin never -returned the loan, the house at Ville d'Avray was sold, by order of the -court, at a moment when the mortgage upon it far surpassed its value, -and the bust of Chancellor Pasquier, though ordered, was never even -rough-cast by Pradier. - -Juliette had determined to live with Victor Hugo in the conditions of -poverty indicated in a former chapter. Her natural delicacy prompted her -to make the future of her child secure, and at the same time to release -the poet from all anxiety on that score. In the latter part of the year -1833, therefore, she wrote to Pradier asking him to acknowledge Claire. -The answer of the sculptor was as follows: - -"DEAR FRIEND, - - "Your letter did not displease me at all, as you seem to have - feared that it would. Its motive was too praiseworthy to cause me - any sentiment contrary to your own. The only thing that vexes me is - that I should be unable to do at once what you desire, and what I - fully intend to do eventually, though in a manner carefully - calculated not to interfere with the future or tranquillity of any - other person. It grieves me that you do not realise what I feel - towards you and Claire! I believed that all your hopes were centred - in me! I am so crushed with debt that I cannot think of executing - my intentions at present. Good-bye, get well and hope only in me. - You have not lost me, either of you--far from it! Good-bye, your - very devoted friend, and much more, - -"J. PRADIER."[34] - -[Illustration: CLAIRE PRADIER AT FIFTEEN. - -From an unpublished drawing by Pradier.] - -It is easy to guess how annoyed Juliette was at the receipt of such a -letter. She expressed her disgust to Victor Hugo in various notes in -which she abuses her former lover: "Wretched driveller, stupid -scoundrel, the vilest and most idiotic of men, a coward without -faith"--such are the principal epithets she applies to him. - -It has been said that the author of _Lucrece Borgia_ interfered and -obtained from Pradier the acknowledgment of Claire.[35] This is -absolutely incorrect. It is probable indeed that the poet made the -attempt; it seems certain that with the assistance of Maniere, the -attorney, he extracted from the sculptor the promise of an allowance; -but there was no official recognition, and soon we shall find the father -of Claire more disposed to repudiate her than to allow her the -protection of his name. - -For the moment he merely agreed that Juliette should put the child to -school at Saumur with a Madame Watteville, whose Paris representative -was a certain Monsieur de Barthes. He would have liked Victor Hugo and -his friend to undertake the sole responsibility of the arrangements, but -they prudently declined to do so, though they lavished kindness, -caressing letters, advice, and treats, upon the little exile. - -On May 28th, 1835, Claire, having suffered some childish ailment, -received from her mother a doll and the following letter: - - "Good morning, my dear little Claire. I hope you will be quite well - again by the time you read this letter. Now that you are - convalescent I can discuss serious matters with you. This is what I - wish to say: Foreseeing that you may be in need of recreation, I - send you from Paris a charming little companion who is most amiably - disposed to amuse you. But, as it would not be fair that the - expenses of her maintenance should devolve upon you during the time - of her stay with you, I also send you a big purse of money for her - upkeep. Spend it wisely, in accordance with your needs. - - "Monsieur Toto is no less anxious about her, than devoted to you. - He therefore adds an enormous basket of provisions. I hope the - little girl will not have eaten them all up on the way, and that - there will still be something left for you. - - "This is not all. I have also been thinking of your clothes, dear - little one, and I send you a shawl for your walks, a white frock - with drawers to match, a figured foulard frock, a striped frock - without drawers, and a sleeved pinafore. - - "Good-bye, dear good child. You must tell me if my selection is to - your taste. Love me and enjoy yourself, so that I may find you - tall and plump and pretty, when I come to see you again. - -"J. DROUET." - -At other times, Victor Hugo himself wrote affectionately to his friend's -child. It is necessary to read these letters, so full of thoughtful -tenderness, to gain a better knowledge of the warmth of the poet's -heart. Much should be forgiven him in consideration of it. - -"We love you very much," he wrote to Claire on May 23rd, 1833, "and you -have a sweet mother who, though absent, thinks a great deal about you. -You must get well quickly, and thank the good God in your prayers every -night for giving you such a good little mother, as she on her part -thanks Him for her charming little daughter."[36] - -And a few days after, in a postscript to a letter to Juliette: "Monsieur -Toto sends love and kisses to his little friend, and wishes he could -still have her to travel everywhere with him. But, above all, he would -like to caress her and look after her as his own child."[37] - -_As his own child_--those words were indeed characteristic of Victor -Hugo's feeling concerning the little girl thus thrown across his path by -chance, and unhesitatingly adopted by him. At first, Claire either did -not realise, or was unwilling to return, his affection. She was jealous -of the big gentleman who stole some of her mother's attention from her. -She was reserved and disagreeable. Juliette was indignant, but the poet -did not relax his efforts to win her. With the authority of Pradier, who -was only too pleased to delegate it to him,[38] he placed Claire, on -April 15th, 1836, in a school at St. Mande, 35, Avenue du Bel-Air, kept -by a Madame Marre. From that moment, whether he paid her a surprise -visit in the parlour on Thursday afternoons, with a Juliette beaming -from the enjoyment of the trip, or whether she spent Sundays with her -mother, Claire Pradier insensibly grew to connect Victor Hugo with -Juliette in her affections, to give to them both equal respect, and to -link them together in her prayers. Exceedingly sensitive by nature, more -eager for love than for learning, she fell into habits of day-dreaming -in school, or out in the meadows, and only seemed to recover the -brightness of cheeks and eyes when the lovers fetched her, and toasted -her little cold, contracted fingers in their warm ones. Then the -apartment in the Rue St. Anastase resounded with her merry chatter, and -she joined eagerly in the rites of which Victor Hugo was the god and -Juliette the priestess. - -In 1840, when she had attained her fifteenth year, Claire's mother -thought it right to confide to her the secret of her irregular birth. -She told her also of Pradier's neglect, and Victor Hugo's goodness. She -exhorted her to be simple in her ideas, and not to set her ambitions too -high. Claire manifested much chagrin and vexation at first, but -presently her natural piety awoke and Juliette was able to write: -"Claire is for ever in church." Victor Hugo took upon himself to open -the girl's eyes to the practical side of life, and to point out to her -the necessity of preparing for a profession as early as possible.[39] In -response to these appeals to her reason, Claire soon accepted her lot -with a brave heart. It was settled that at the age of eighteen, that is -to say in 1844, she should be engaged as an assistant mistress in Madame -Marre's school, in exchange for board and lodging, but without salary. -She agreed also to study for a diploma, and she hoped, when once she had -gained it, to find some honourable and paid employment, by Victor Hugo's -help. - -Claire fell to work with an ardour, a good-humour, and an intelligence, -that drew from Juliette the warmest commendation for her daughter and -gratitude for Victor Hugo. - - -II - -One cannot but wonder whether Claire Pradier was really happy at heart, -or whether that eighteen-year-old brow, pure and fair as Juliette's own, -perchance concealed a spirit weighed down by melancholy. She was -good-looking certainly, and knew it. In her chestnut locks, her eyes, -whose hue wavered between soft black and the blue of ocean, her rounded -cheeks, often hectic with fever, the distinction of a tall figure and -stately walk, she united-- - - "A la madonne auguste d'Italie - La flamande qui rit a travers les houblons."[40] - -But beauty is no consolation to one who feels herself already touched by -the icy finger of death, and who has, besides, no incentive to prolong -the struggle for life. Claire felt thus. - -Already, in earliest childhood, she had shown a delicate temperament, -uncertain health, more nerves than muscle, more sensitiveness than -vitality. During the whole of 1837, her cough never left her. In the -years that followed, her figure scarcely showed any of the curves of -youth. When her looks were praised, she smiled faintly, and her voice, -which was lovely and caressing enough to recall to Victor Hugo the -softest cadences of _Les Feuillantines_, scarce dared pronounce the word -"to-morrow." Hence proceeded low spirits, which she was never able to -shake off, though she usually managed to conceal them from her mother. -Presentiments also beset her. "I often dream of those I love," she wrote -to her mother, "and when I wake up, I long to sleep on for ever." - -Mobile as the chisel he manipulated so skilfully, volatile as the dust -of the plaster which powdered him, Pradier gave Claire neither regular -assistance nor moral support. He had married, and was the father of -several legitimate children. Unfortunate as was the celebrity of his -wife and far-reaching the scandals provoked by her, he yet desired to -preserve before his natural daughter a primly respectable attitude, and -a modesty quite Calvinistic. He was as careful to avoid the occasions of -meeting her, as Claire herself was eager to provoke them. The more she -overwhelmed him with little presents, worked by her own fingers, tender -evidences of an unconquerable affection, the more indifferent and -discourteous he showed himself, forgetting to pay her monthly -allowance, forgetting to give her New Year's presents, forgetting even -to keep his appointments with her, leaving her to wait patiently in the -cold studio of Rue de l'Abbaye while he played the gallant on the -boulevard. - -He had, nevertheless, permitted the girl to make the acquaintance of his -legitimate children, and had gone so far as to put his youngest child, -Charlotte Pradier, at the same school, when he sent his two sons to -Auteuil to a boarding-school. In the month of May, 1845, Claire, with an -impulse natural in a girl of nineteen, wished to give the two -school-boys the pleasure of a sisterly letter; she got Charlotte to -write also. The sculptor heard of it and this is how he treated her -trivial indiscretion: - - "MY DEAR BIG CLAIRE, - - "I have seen the headmaster of ... who has informed me that you and - Charlotte have written to J....[41] Pray write as seldom as - possible. I do not think young girls should use their pens to - reveal their sentiments. Such a habit is too easily acquired; they - should know how, yet not do it. Besides, the children see each - other every fortnight, and that is enough. Please do not sign - yourself _Pradier_ to them any more. Such a thing becomes known and - might cause gossip. You do not need the name, to be loved and - respected. Be frank and fear nothing. Your good time will come some - day. You must be prudent in all respects. The children must - accustom themselves to your position as it is; they will take more - interest in you later. Also, as I am on these subjects, pray use - some other formulae in your letters to me than 'adored father,' or - 'beloved.' I am not accustomed to them. Such epithets are only - appropriate to a god. Call me anything else that comes natural to - you. It is unnecessary that I should prompt you; your feelings will - be your best guide. Please write more legibly, for I receive your - letters at night; and, above all, write only when you have - something special to say. You must not become a scribbler about - nothing--I mean for the mere pleasure of using your pen."[42] - -How such a letter must have wounded the heart which once beat so -tenderly for Pradier! Neither the caresses of Juliette nor the soothing -words of Victor Hugo were able to comfort Claire.[43] One month after -her father had thus disowned her, she went up for her examination, and, -partly through grief, partly through timidity, failed utterly. It was -the last stroke. - -Not that her constitution showed any immediate sign of the shock it had -sustained, or broke down at once. Her physical appearance remained -unchanged, but death entered her soul and lurked there henceforward, as -sometimes it lies under the depths of waters which flow calmly to -outward seeming. She made her will. - -From that moment Claire Pradier lived like those resigned invalids who, -raising their gaze to the heaven above them, no longer heed the passing -of the hours, while they await the supreme summons. She waited. Her -mother, seeing her still apparently healthy, failed to realise her -condition, and took the beginning of this mute colloquy with death -for a mere return of her daughter's former depression. Nevertheless, -an incident which happened in the month of February 1846 gave to -Juliette also one of those presentiments which cannot deceive. Like -Claire, she waited. - -[Illustration: CLAIRE PRADIER ON HER DEATHBED. - -Drawing by Pradier (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -It was not for long. On March 21st, 1846, having gone to St. Mande to -see the young assistant mistress, she took with her the design and -material for a piece of work Victor Hugo had asked for. The idea was to -embroider his family coat of arms on coarse canvas, in colours selected -by himself. This complicated heraldic work was to adorn the backs of two -Gothic arm-chairs in his rooms in the Place Royale. - -Contrary to her usual habit, Claire showed very little interest in the -poet's plans; she listened absently and spoke very little. A dry cough -shook her frame from time to time, her cheeks burned with fever. -Juliette walked home by way of the Avenue de Bel-Air, the Barriere du -Trone, and the Faubourg St. Antoine. Victor Hugo, who was always anxious -about her, was to meet her half-way. He did so; she was walking slowly, -with bent head, and when he asked for news of his embroidery, she burst -into tears. The poet understood in an instant. By his instructions, -Claire was removed to Rue St. Anastase the very next day; Triger, her -mother's doctor, was instructed to visit her daily. Not venturing to -pronounce at once the dread name of consumption, he spoke of a chill and -chlorosis. Claire scarcely heeded, and indicated by a feeble gesture -that she was too spent to care. The head she tried to raise from the -pillow, fell back as if too heavy for the frail neck. Her large dark -eyes gazed through space at some melancholy vision. Her hands upon the -white sheets hardly retained strength to clasp themselves in a caress -or a prayer. - -She begged that Pradier might be informed of her illness. He wrote -first, and then came. He demonstrated his affection by theatrical -gestures and well-chosen words. Then he placed a villa, which he said he -possessed at Auteuil, at the disposal of the invalid and her mother. The -so-called villa proved to be one floor in a tenement house, 57, Rue de -La Fontaine. Claire was taken there in the early part of May. Her mother -accompanied her. Victor Hugo visited them nearly every day, but neither -the compliments of "Monsieur Toto" nor the roses he brought his -ex-pupil, nor the exhortations of Doctor Louis, whom he brought with him -one day, were successful in restoring colour to the countenance of one -whose blood-spitting left her every day paler and more exhausted. Claire -hardly dared raise herself in bed; icy sweats drenched her, and she -moaned continuously, in a manner terribly painful to those who were -forced to stand by, helpless. - -On June 6th, she asked to see the Vicar of St. Mande, her confessor. On -the 16th, she received the Last Sacraments. On the 18th, delirium -supervened, and she expired on the 21st. They buried the girl in the -first place at Auteuil, but when her will was read, in which she had -written, "I desire to be buried in the cemetery of Saint-Mande. I also -beg that Monsieur l'Abbe Chaussotte should celebrate my funeral Mass, -and that green grass should be grown on my grave," Victor Hugo and -Pradier agreed to have the coffin exhumed. The ceremony took place on -July 11th. Juliette, who was more dead than alive, was not present; but -Victor Hugo and Pradier walked together behind the funeral car, leading -the white procession of Claire's young pupils and companions. The -sculptor, always full of intentions, plans, and chatter, discoursed in a -low voice of the magnificent tomb he would raise with his own hands to -the memory of his daughter. It should be, he said, "a sacred debt; I -shall execute it with so much love that my chisel will never before have -fashioned anything so chaste or so beautiful." - -After the long, slow journey through Paris in the sunshine, they reached -the cemetery of Saint Mande. Near the tomb of the poet's friend, Armand -Carel, a freshly dug grave yawned, gloomy and covetous. There was some -singing, some blessing, the turmoil of a congested crowd; then they -separated, but not without a renewal of Pradier's promise. - -Eight years later he died himself, without having discharged his "sacred -debt." One more resolve had fizzled out in empty words. Victor Hugo was -then living precariously in exile, but as soon as he heard of the -sculptor's end, he wrote off and ordered a decent headstone for Claire, -and directed that the grave should be sown with green grass. Upon the -tomb were carved four of the lines he had erstwhile written for -Juliette's consolation, and he set about composing others. Thus it came -about that, to the very last, Claire Pradier was protected by the father -of Leopoldine against two of the fears that had most alarmed her -youthful imagination, "a neglected grave in some distant cemetery, and a -faded memory in the hearts of men." - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -"ON AN ISLAND" - - -I - -Juliette relates that when she had occasion to admonish her maid, or -find fault with a tradesman during her residence in Jersey and Guernsey, -the answer she invariably received was: "It cannot be helped, Madame; we -are on an island...." - -The phrase tickled her fancy, and she adopted it and made use of it on -many occasions. - -The reader of the following chapters must likewise accept the axiom -that, "on an island," things are not quite the same as on the mainland; -for, only by so doing, will he be enabled to peruse without undue -astonishment the extraordinary narration of the life led in common by -Victor Hugo, his wife, sons, friends, and mistress, between 1851 and -1872. - -Its beginning dates from the poet's sojourn in Belgium without Madame -Victor Hugo, at the beginning of his exile[44]; that is to say, in the -last weeks of the year 1851 and the first half of 1852. Not that his -precarious circumstances and prudent, somewhat middle-class habits, -permitted him to house Juliette under his own roof: indeed, their -_liaison_ was never more secret. But, at Brussels, the problem of the -relations henceforth to exist between the sons of Victor Hugo and she -whom they already called "our friend, Madame Drouet," first came up for -solution. It was at Brussels also, that Juliette set herself to simplify -it, if not settle it, by her devotion, unselfishness, and unremitting -attentions. - -At his first arrival on December 14th the poet had taken rooms at the -Hotel de la Porte Verte in the narrow street of the same name. He -remained there barely three weeks, and on January 5th, 1852, took a -small room on the first floor of No. 27, Grand' Place. It was "furnished -with a black horsehair couch, convertible into a bed, a round table, -which served indifferently for work and for relaxation, and an old -mirror, over the chimney which contained the pipe of the stove."[45] - -Juliette never went there, but we learn from the poet's complaints to -her, that the couch was too short for a man, the mattresses hard, and -offensive to the olfactory nerve, and that sleep was difficult to -obtain, on account of the noises in the street. But with the first -streak of dawn outside the lofty window, the "great facade of the Hotel -de Ville entered the tiny chamber and took superb possession of it"[46]; -the atmosphere became impregnated with art and history. The poet's fine -imagination and ardour for work did the rest. Hence the tone of his -letters to his wife, who had remained behind in France, was almost -joyous. It was full of masculine courage. Hence, also, that air of -"simple dignity and calm resignation," which characterised his bearing -in exile, "adding to his inherent nobility and charm," and drawing from -Juliette the enthusiastic exclamation: "Would that I were you, that I -might praise you as you deserve!"[47] - -Truth to tell, she merited a rich share of the praise herself. The -little comfort Victor Hugo was able to enjoy, and the moral support he -needed more than ever, came to him solely through her. - -She lodged almost next door, at No. 10, Passage du Prince,[48] with -Madame Luthereau, a friend of her youth, married to a political pamphlet -writer. For the modest sum of 150 frs. a month, of which 25 were paid to -her servant, Juliette obtained food, shelter, and sincere affection. But -what she appreciated more than all these, was the liberty she enjoyed of -superintending from afar the poet's domestic arrangements, and preparing -under the shadow of the galleries the dishes and sweetmeats he partook -of in the publicity of the Grand' Place. Every morning at eight o'clock -her maid, Suzanne, conveyed to Victor Hugo a pot of chocolate made by -Juliette, linen freshly ironed and mended, and sometimes even the -modicum of coal the great man either forgot, or did not trouble, to -order. - -When Suzanne had swept and cleaned the room which Charras, Hetzel, -Lamoriciere, Emile Deschanel, Dr. Yvan, Schoelcher and sometimes Dumas -_pere_ daily enlivened with their wit and littered with the ashes from -their pipes, she returned at about two o'clock. She found her mistress -busy preparing the master's luncheon--a cutlet generally, which Juliette -took the trouble to select herself, in order to make certain that the -butcher cut it near the loin! Suzanne started off again bearing the -cutlet, the bread, the plates and dishes, and even the cup of coffee! -Obedient to her mistress's injunction, she hurried through the street, -for, at any cost, the luncheon must not be allowed to get cold. - -When Charles Hugo joined his father in February 1852, it might be -supposed that Juliette would relinquish her role of _cordon bleu_; but -nothing was further from her intention. She merely proceeded to -supplement the daily cutlet with a dish of scrambled eggs, in honour of -the young man. Hugo having opened the necessary credit, she continued -the task she had undertaken, and prepared two luncheons instead of one. -Again, when on May 24th Madame Victor Hugo came for the second time to -visit her husband in Brussels, it was Juliette who undertook to cook a -little feast for her. In the agitation caused by such a high honour, she -forgot to add an extra fork. She worried for the rest of the day over -the omission, and apologised in successive letters to the poet, in the -terms a _devote_ might employ to confess a mortal sin.[49] - -But these occupations did not prevent the afternoons from hanging heavy -on her hands. Victor Hugo spent them in writing _Napoleon le Petit_; or -he organised expeditions to Malines, Louvain, Anvers, with friends; or -he yielded to the material pleasures of Flemish life, and accepted -invitations to dine at some of those culinary institutes on which -Brussels so prides herself. - -But none of these resources were open to Juliette. Confined within the -four walls of her narrow chamber, her only view was of roofs, and a dull -wall, pierced by a single dirty window; she spent whole hours watching a -canary in its cage, through the thick panes. She likened her condition -to that of the tiny captive. At other times, she allowed her thoughts to -roam among past events, and brooded over the packet of letters so -cruelly sent to her the year before[50]; she dwelt upon the grief she -had endured for many months, the choice the poet had finally made in her -favour, and their joint excursion to Fontainebleau to celebrate the -reconciliation. Under the depressing influence of the grey Belgian sky, -always partially obscured by thick smoke, she realised that her splendid -vitality and her love for novelty had departed for ever. Then she -allowed jealousy to resume its sway over her, more powerfully than ever. - -In this mood, she once more resolved to set Victor Hugo free: "If you -tell me to go," she wrote on January 25th, 1852, "I will do so without -even turning my head to look at you." But again he bade her stay. - -Gravely, then, without showing any symptom of her former coyness, she -proposed to discontinue her letters. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN JERSEY.] - -Fortunately, at this very juncture, the unwelcome attentions of the -Belgian police, who were nervous about the forthcoming publication of -_Napoleon le Petit_, had decided Victor Hugo to leave Brussels and go to -Jersey. Juliette was to go also, either in the steamer with him, or in -one starting a few hours later. Naturally he urged her to go on writing, -if only to bridge over the short separation. She admits that when she -landed at St. Helier, on August 6th, 1852, hope had once more gained the -ascendant within her breast. For the first time in her life, she was -about to enjoy the society of her "dear little exile," her "sublime -outlaw," all by herself, far from the madding crowd. - - -II - -Victor Hugo resided at first in an hotel at St. Helier, called La Pomme -d'Or. Later he settled on the sea-front at Marine Terrace, Georgetown, -in an enormous house which, owing to its square shape and skylights, -resembled a prison. - -Juliette had intended to put up at the Auberge du Commerce, but for -twenty years she had never sat at a table d'hote without the protection -of the poet. The proximity of tradespeople and farmers proved -insupportable to her. On August 11th she began a search for a suitable -boarding-house, and presently concluded a bargain with the proprietress -of Nelson Hall, Havres-des-Pas, for lodging at eight shillings a week, -and board at two shillings a day. This made a monthly expenditure of -about a hundred and fifteen francs, to which was added twenty-five -francs, the wages of Suzanne, her maid. - -Like Marine Terrace, Nelson Hall's chief claim to maritime advantages -was its name. At Victor Hugo's house there were no large windows -overlooking the sea, and in Juliette's ground-floor rooms, a high paling -screened the topmost crest of the highest wave. - -Our heroine tried to console herself by listening to the surge of the -ocean, and copying the nearly completed manuscript of _L'Histoire d'un -crime_, or the poems the poet intended to add to the volume of _Les -Chatiments_. At the end of September she moved upstairs to a large room -on the first floor of the house, whence a wide view could be had of the -barren scenery of Havres-des-Pas, from the battery of Fort Regent on the -right, to the rocks of St. Clement on the left; but Juliette's peaceful -contemplation was constantly disturbed by the violence of the -proprietress, a drunkard, who was renowned all over the island for the -vigour with which she beat her husband when in her cups. - -A further removal was therefore decided upon in January 1853, and -carried out on February 6th. Juliette went to live in furnished -apartments next door, consisting, as in Paris, of a bedroom, -drawing-room, dining-room, and kitchen, on the first floor. They -overlooked a vast stretch of sand and shingle, rocks and seaweed. - -At first Victor Hugo seldom went to his friend's house, but met her each -day at the outset of his walk and took her with him along roads where -the magic of summer glorified every blade of grass. From end to end of -the island, Dame Nature had transformed herself into a garden, where all -was perfumed, gay, and smiling. Juliette, walking arm in arm with her -lover, could feel the glad beating of his heart; her upraised eyes noted -that his dear face seemed less worried. With the ingenuity of a -twenty-year-old sweetheart, she entertained him of his own country, and -invoked memories of the journeys they had made together in former days -to the Rhine, the Alps, the Pyrenees. The exile remembered, not the -rain, nor the omnibuses, nor the thousand trifles recalled by Juliette, -but France ... his own beautiful France.... Under the influence of that -voice which had once made him free of the realm of love, his country was -restored to him for a fleeting moment. - -The lovers were unpleasantly surprised by the week of tempests which -ushered in the equinox, and was followed without a pause by the setting -in of winter. "Everything became sombre, grey, violent, terrible, -stormy, severe." Day and night rain fell, and "the drops chased each -other down the window-panes like silver hairs."[51] Amidst the uproar to -which frenzied Nature suddenly delivered herself, the daily tramps were -perforce discontinued. Fortunately for Juliette, Victor Hugo found -Nelson House warmer than his house at Marine Terrace. His wife had -recently joined him, but had brought with her neither comfort nor the -serene atmosphere propitious for an author's labours. As in the old days -of the Rue St. Anastase, therefore, he set up a writing-table near the -fire in Juliette's sitting-room, with a few volumes of Michelet and -Quinet, and a novel or two by Georges Sand; and every day, after -lunching with his own family, the poet came to work in his friend's -room. Juliette determined to "find the way back to his heart through his -appetite,"[52] as she wrote to him, so she insisted upon his dining -with her. She appealed to his greediness as well as to his hospitable -instincts, assuring him that nowhere else could he so successfully -entertain his new companions, the exiles, as at her abode. Soon she gave -two "exiles' dinners" a week, then three, then four; finally, she had -one every day. - -With the assistance of his two sons, whom he had at length presented to -Juliette, Victor Hugo presided at these feasts with an affability born -in part of a desire for popularity. Juliette showed herself more -reserved, more severe. Accustomed to treat the poet as a divinity, she -could not tolerate the familiarity of these petty folk. "A brotherly -cobbler is not to my taste," she said harshly. "I cannot resign myself -to this consorting of vulgar mediocrity with your genius." - -Her sweetness to the two sons of the poet was as marked as the -haughtiness of her manner towards the victims of the _Coup d'Etat_. For -twenty years she had longed to be friends with them. As far back as -1839, on the occasion of a distribution of prizes at which Charles and -Francois Victor were to cover themselves with honours, she wrote: "What -a pity I cannot witness their triumph! I love them with all my heart, -and would give my life for them; but that is not enough. I will avenge -myself by praying that they may remain always as they are at present: -charming and good." - -Later we find her treasuring their portraits, anxious about their little -childish ailments, pleading for them when they incurred punishment, and -overwhelming them with little presents manufactured by her pen or -needle, whenever she received the master's sanction to do so. - -What joy it must have given her to receive officially at her table these -children grown to manhood! As soon as she became acquainted with them, -she raised the young men to the level of Victor Hugo in the order of her -preoccupations, and resolved to do nothing for the father, in the way of -spoiling and cherishing, that she did not do also for the sons. If she -copied _Les Contemplations_, she protested that she must also write out -Francois Victor's translation of Shakespeare. If she sent Suzanne to -Marine Terrace with a herb soup for the master, she bade her carry six -lilac shirts for Charles. - -Even young Adele and Madame Victor Hugo accepted her good offices -without demur. For Adele, Juliette picked the earliest strawberries and -the first roses of the Nelson Hall garden; she embroidered handkerchiefs -on which Charles had designed the monogram, and bound together the -serial stories of Madame Sand, cut from magazines. For Madame Victor -Hugo she prepared a certain soup made of goose, which, she said, was -most succulent. She lent her Suzanne, her own servant, for the whole -time Marine Terrace was without a cook, and meanwhile went without a -servant herself, and did her own cooking. She spoilt her skin and wore -down her nails, but she took a pride in her devotion and -self-abnegation, and resolved to carry them even further. She dreamt of -entering Victor Hugo's household for good, to assume in all humility the -position of an ex-mistress become housekeeper. - -However numerous may have been the wrongs Victor Hugo inflicted upon -this woman, whose jealousy he never ceased to excite, one must admit -that he felt and appreciated the greatness of her love. Like a great -many men, the artist in him recognised a moral worth that no longer -satisfied his needs as a lover; he experienced generous revulsions, -under the influence of which he paid her carefully studied attentions, -which bore a semblance of impulse and spontaneity gratifying to her -feelings. - - -III - -The young queen, Victoria, having paid France, in the person of Napoleon -III, the gracious compliment of a visit in August 1855, the exiles of -Jersey dared address an insolent letter to her, which was published by -their quaintly-named journal, _L'Homme_. True to his native chivalry, -Victor Hugo declined to sign this manifesto[53]; but he was indignant -when the authorities of Jersey marked their disapproval by expelling its -three authors. He protested vigorously against their punishment, and was -in his turn driven from the island on August 31st. - -He went to Guernsey, a neighbouring island, bleaker and less temperate -in climate. He settled at first at No. 20, Rue Hauteville, St. Pierre -Port. On May 16th, 1856, he bought a roomy, substantial house built on -the shore at some former period by an English pirate. It only required -restoration, to make it a suitable residence. It was called Hauteville -House. - -Here again, Juliette lived successively at the inn, and at a -boarding-house kept by a Frenchwoman, Mademoiselle Leboutellier. But -when she found that Victor Hugo could no longer content himself with a -temporary house, and intended to send for the furniture and -art-collection he had stored at the rooms in Paris,[54] she begged him -to include her in his plans, and let her have her own things also. She -was tired of so-called English comfort, with its hard beds, narrow -sheets, straight-backed chairs, and tiny wardrobes. - -Victor Hugo gave a generous assent to her request. He took a little -house for her, called La Pallue, close to, and overlooking, Hauteville -House. The faithful Suzanne was despatched to France to pack and send to -Guernsey all the Hugo family's and Juliette's possessions. She returned -on August 9th. The furniture and art-collection arrived on the 20th of -the same month. - -A busy time followed, for the lovers. They threw themselves feverishly -into the excitements of removal, decoration, and treasure-hunting. -Victor Hugo dropped spiritualism and photography, which had been his -recreations in Jersey, to become architect, cabinet-maker, and joiner. -He undertook the supervision of Juliette's arrangements as well as his -own, bought antique Norman furniture, which he turned to various uses, -manufactured carpets and curtains out of Juliette's old theatre frocks, -designed panels and mantelpieces, and the many incongruous articles -which now decorate the Musee Victor Hugo, and which his friend aptly -called "a poetical pot-pourri of art." - -In this wise, the fitting up of the two houses lasted over a -considerable period. We learn from Juliette that the poet was still busy -with his dining-room on April 2nd, 1857, and on May 28th, 1858, he -wrote to Georges Sand: "My house is still only a shell. The worthy -Guernseyites have taken possession of it, and, assuming that I am a rich -man, are making the most of the French gentleman, and spinning out the -work." - -Juliette, whose dwelling was more modest, had the enjoyment of it -sooner. She settled into La Pallue at the beginning of November 1856, -and had the happiness henceforth of seeing her friend many times a day. -He had constructed on the roof of Hauteville House a room that he -somewhat pretentiously named his "crystal drawing-room," and that we -should call a belvedere; it was roofed and covered in with glass on all -sides. His bedroom opened out of it. - -Every morning he sat and worked there, at a flap-table affixed to the -wall, when the cold did not drive him to some warmer part of the house. -Beneath his gaze spread the low town, the port, the group of -Anglo-Norman islands, and, in clear weather, the coast of Cotentin. At -his back, and slightly higher up, Juliette, from her little house, kept -watch and ward over him. From that moment it may be said that, though -Juliette's body was at La Pallue, her heart and mind inhabited -Hauteville House. - -Unfortunately, as winter progressed, the storms grew worse, and a -darkness reigned that made reading and copying difficult. "Like a great -lake turned upside down," the sky hung lowering above the gloomy houses, -and only allowed the pale rays of a leaden sun to pierce through it, at -infrequent intervals. The rest of the time the atmosphere remained -charged with rheumatic-dealing clamminess. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO IN JERSEY.] - -Juliette, just entering her fiftieth year, bore the rigours of the -climate with difficulty. She would have died of it, she declared, had -she not been upheld by the influence of love. She was a martyr to gout, -and greatly dreaded being crippled by it. She brooded long and often -upon death and the dead. Whether under the influence of a priest, or in -response to some inward prompting we cannot tell, but she reverted for a -time to her former religious practices. - - -IV - -In April 1863, when Juliette was slowly recovering from another attack -of gout, Victor Hugo realised the extreme humidity of La Pallue. On the -advice of his sons, who seem to have been of one mind with him on the -subject, he decided that Juju, as he called her, should move as quickly -as possible, and that he should for the second time assume the functions -of architect, upholsterer, and decorator of her new dwelling. - -Juliette offered a prolonged and strenuous resistance to the plan, for -the house chosen for her possessed the grave inconvenience of being at -some distance from Hauteville House. The idea that she would no longer -be able to watch every movement of her lover, drew from our heroine -lamentations and loving reproaches. But Victor Hugo was adamant, and on -February 2nd, 1864, the anniversary of the first performance of _Lucrece -Borgia_, "Princesse Negroni" took up her abode in the new house, which -she named Hauteville Feerie. - -There again the poet had arranged everything himself. Remembering -Juliette's attachment for her rooms in Rue St. Anastase, he had -endeavoured to reconstitute faithfully its curtain of crimson and gold, -its peacocks embroidered on panels, its china, the porcelain dragons -which adorned the dresser, and especially the numerous mirrors that -reflected and multiplied the furniture, knick-knacks, and embroideries. - -When Juliette was shown this "marvel," she said she had no words to -express her admiration and gratitude. Then, knowing how often Madame -Victor Hugo was away on the Continent, and how uncomfortable the poet -was at home, she offered to act in turn as hostess and housekeeper to -him. - -In 1863 we find her assuming Madame Victor Hugo's duties during the -short absence of the latter, and at the end of 1864, during a further -one which lasted until February 1867, she divided her time equally -between Hauteville House and Hauteville Feerie. - -But there is a difference in her methods of ruling the two -establishments. At Hauteville House she governs without obtruding -herself, wisely, discreetly, somewhat mysteriously. She directs the -servants, reproves them if necessary, superintends the accounts, and -keeps down expenses. But she carries out her task from her place in the -background. Officially, the poet lives alone with his sons and his -sister-in-law, Madame Julie Chenay; when he entertains friends from -Paris, Juliette's name is not mentioned. - -At Hauteville Feerie, on the contrary, our heroine is at home. It -behoves her to comport herself as the mistress of the house, and expend -her gifts of mind, as well as her talents as a manager. As she says, -"she must be both lady and housekeeper." - -In this double role it might be supposed that she would be reluctant to -receive the exiles presented to her by Victor Hugo, whose society is so -distasteful to her. Not so. Once more Juliette accepts, through duty and -devotion, that which she never would have tolerated on her own account. - -The poet was bored, alas! Though he was composing splendid poetry, his -long dialogue with Mother Nature was beginning to pall upon him. His -somewhat theatrical genius demanded more than a fine stage; it required -a public. Without it, the author of _Les Chatiments_ was but the shadow -of the poet of _Ruy Blas_. No doubt the bronzing of his skin by the salt -breath of the sea, and the virulence of his spite against Napoleon III, -lent him a fictitious appearance of spring and vigour; but there were -times when he flagged sadly, and when despondency and fatigue expressed -themselves in the droop of his lips, the sagging of his ill-shaved -cheeks, the wrinkles on his brow, and, especially, the heavy pockets -beneath his eyes. His attire betrayed his complete neglect of himself. -When he walked through the Place de Hauteville in his Girondin hat all -battered by the wind, his cashmere neckcloth carelessly knotted under an -untidy collar, his open coat revealing a buttonless shirt in summer, and -in winter, a faded scarlet waistcoat which Robespierre himself would -have despised, the little children he so loved ran from him as if he -were accursed.[55] - -Juliette grasped these mute warnings, and, as soon as she was -established in the vast frame of Hauteville Feerie, she attempted to -reconstitute the society she had once presided over at Jersey. She even -endeavoured to enlarge the circle and admit a few new-comers. - -Juliette was able to maintain the simple dignity to which she attached -so much importance, and from which she departed only in favour of her -poet, in the most delicate circumstance of her life, namely, when Madame -Victor Hugo offered her her friendship. She did not decline it, but, -where many might have erred by an excess of satisfaction and -familiarity, she showed a discreet reserve highly creditable to her. -Since their exile, the relations of the two women had undergone a great -change. On the one hand, Madame Victor Hugo's perpetual pursuit of -pleasure, her constant fatigue, her laziness, and her incapacity to -manage a house, had gradually involved her in the network of attentions, -civilities, and petting, Juliette lavished upon her and hers. The -reports brought to her by her sons and servants of the doings at -Hauteville Feerie, had given her a good opinion of our heroine; her -natural kindliness did the rest, and she showed herself disposed to -treat in neighbourly, and even friendly, fashion one whom she might -justly have hated as a rival. - -On the other hand, Juliette no longer felt that jealousy of the mistress -against the legitimate wife, that she had experienced at the beginning -of her love-story. But actual friendship between Madame Victor Hugo and -Juliette was hindered for a long time, by the fear of English criticism, -and of those Guernseyites of whom Victor Hugo wrote, that they made even -the scenery of the island look prim. Juliette dreaded the unkind -tittle-tattle the exiles would not fail to retail to her, if she -accepted the advances from Hauteville House. Therefore, during the first -ten years at Guernsey, she only set foot in her friend's house once, in -1858, to inspect the treasures the master had collected in it. Madame -Victor Hugo was absent that day. - -At the end of 1864, the wife of the poet became more urgent in her -invitations. She was about to depart to the Continent, to undergo -treatment for her eyes; her absence might be, and indeed was, -indefinitely prolonged. However careless she might be in housekeeping -matters, she was probably loath to commit her husband to the tender -mercies of her sister, Madame Julie Chenay, who boasted of possessing -neither aptitude for business nor a head for figures. She saw the use -that might be made of the poet's friend, and opened negotiations by -inviting her to dinner. But Juliette declined. This policy of -self-effacement was continued by her even during the long absence of -Madame Victor Hugo in 1865 and 1866. When Victor Hugo pressed her to -dine with him, in secret if necessary, she wrote: "Permit me to refuse -the honour you offer me, for the sake of the thirty years of discretion -and respect I have observed towards your house." - -In the end, however, Madame Victor Hugo gained the day, and overcame -this dignified reticence. On her return to Guernsey on January 15th, -1867, she declared her intention of paying Juliette a visit. The -diplomatic abilities of the poet were taxed to the uttermost in the -regulation of the details of this important event. The visit took place -on January 22nd. It was impossible to avoid returning it. Juliette did -so on the 24th, and thenceforth, no longer hesitated to cross the -threshold of Hauteville House. She went there almost every day, to -revise the manuscript and the copies of _Les Miserables_ with the help -of Madame Chenay; in 1868, she spent the whole month of May under its -roof, while her faithful Suzanne was in France. - -Similarly, she no longer minded being seen in public with Victor Hugo -and his sons, and even his wife, during the journeys they made together. -Whereas in 1861, for instance, on a journey to Waterloo and Mont St. -Jean, we still find her dining apart, and seeming to ignore Charles -Hugo, in 1867, she is constantly at the latter's house in Brussels, -attending the family dinners and enjoying the charm of what she calls "a -delicate and discreet rehabilitation" by Madame Hugo and her -daughter-in-law. She took her share in their joys as in their sorrows. - -It was at Brussels that the three grandchildren of the poet were born, -and there also that he lost successively, in April and August 1868, his -eldest grandchild and his wife. He mourned the latter with the sorrow of -a man from whom the memory of his early love has not faded. As for -Juliette, her regret was thoroughly sincere. She did not venture to -attend the funeral, in deference to outside gossip; but when, a few days -later, she went to the house and saw the empty arm-chair Madame Victor -Hugo's indulgent personality had been wont to occupy, she could not -restrain her tears. - -Victor Hugo and his friend returned to Guernsey on October 6th, 1868. -They continued to inhabit separate houses, but dined together at one or -the other. They also resumed their sea-side walks, and their long -talks, of which the chief topic was the second son of Charles Hugo, an -infant who had been left behind at Brussels. - -The infirmities of increasing age occasionally prevented our heroine -from following her indefatigable companion. She would then remain at her -chimney corner, reading the _Lives of the Saints_ or some devotional -book. She was more than ever prone to reflect upon death. She had been -greatly shocked by the rapidity with which Madame Victor Hugo had -succumbed, and she felt that her turn, and that of the poet, must soon -come. She prayed ardently that she might be permitted to go first. - -In August 1869 Victor Hugo took Juliette with him, first to Brussels, -where Charles Hugo and Paul Meurice joined them, and then to the Rhine, -which held so many sweet memories for both. On their return to Guernsey -on November 6th, he proceeded to plan a journey to Italy for the -following winter. He also made arrangements for the revival of _Lucrece -Borgia_ at the Porte St. Martin. The journey to Italy was never carried -out, but on February 2nd, 1870, on the anniversary of its first -performance, _Lucrece_ had a brilliant success. - -The old poet was enchanted. - -Foreseeing the fall of the Empire, and guessing that the French were -sick of a regime which, during the last eighteen years, had confused -government with spying, and politics with police, he redoubled the -activity of his propaganda, and indited letter after letter, manifesto -after manifesto. The more Juliette confessed to the lassitude of age, -the more he seemed to defy his years. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -"THAT WHICH BRINGS SATISFACTION TO THE HEART" - - -I - -When Victor Hugo grasped the full extent of the national disaster in -August 1870, he started immediately for Belgium. On the proclamation of -the Republic, he proceeded to the frontier, where a few official friends -awaited him. - -The scene that took place on his arrival was impressive, though somewhat -theatrical. The "sublime outlaw" asked for the bread and wine of France. -After he had eaten and drunk, he begged Juliette to preserve a fragment -of the bread, and buried his face in his hands with the gesture of one -who is dazzled by too much light. Juliette relates that big tears flowed -through his clenched fingers. The bystanders stood in silence, awed by -his emotion.... - -The poet and our heroine stayed with Paul Meurice at Avenue Frochot for -a time, and then went to the Hotel du Pavillon de Rohan. Finally they -settled, he in a small furnished apartment at 66, Rue de la -Rochefoucauld, and she close by, in a fairly spacious _entresol_ rented -at fourteen hundred francs, at 55, Rue Pigalle. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO, HIS FAMILY, AND JULIETTE DROUET AT -HAUTEVILLE HOUSE.] - -But hardly had they resumed the peaceful tenor of their ways when they -were forced to uproot again. On February 8th, 1871, Victor Hugo was -elected a member of the Assemblee Nationale, and, as he could not -bear to be parted any longer from his grandchildren, he removed his -whole household to Bordeaux, including his son Charles, his mistress -Juliette, and the little heroes of _L'Art d'etre grandpere_. They -started on February 13th, and the poet took his seat on the 15th. On -March 8th he felt it his duty to resign, on account of the refusal of -his colleagues to allow Garibaldi to be naturalised a Frenchman. He was -about to leave, when a fresh sorrow struck him down: this was the sudden -death of Charles Hugo, on March 13th. - -The body of the unfortunate and charming young man was taken back to -Paris, and the funeral took place on the 18th, in the sinister scenario -of the rising insurrection. On the 21st, Victor Hugo went to Belgium to -make arrangements for his grandchildren's future. Two months and a half -later, he was expelled from Brussels, for rewarding its hospitality by -throwing his house open as a refuge to the political miscreants who had -just fired Paris and shed the blood of their compatriots. He was the -object of a violently hostile demonstration on May 27th, 1871, and -afterwards received the decree of expulsion. He went to Vianden, in the -Grand Duchy of Luxembourg, and returned definitely to Paris in September -1871. Juliette had accompanied him everywhere. - -No sooner was the luggage unpacked, than she bravely undertook to amuse -him, by forming a small circle of his friends and admirers, in her -drawing-room at Rue Pigalle. But the undertaking was beyond her powers. -Her long sojourn in a solitary island and her complete absorption in one -sole object, had resulted in the loss of what might be termed her -social talent. In France, and especially in Paris, everything was new -to her, everything caused her agitation. - -The state of her health was not such as to restore her equanimity. She -suffered from gout and heart-disease, was growing stout, walked with -difficulty, slept badly, and was terribly weary: "I am so tired," she -writes, "that I feel as if even eternity would fail to rest me." - -Victor Hugo, therefore, gave up the entertainments at Rue Pigalle; the -boxes were repacked, and on August 14th, 1872, the party returned to -that island where everything spoke to the exile of former joys, from the -anemones he loved, to the cherry-tree he had planted himself. - -In the mornings, at half-past eleven, Victor Hugo used to make his -joyous appearance at Hauteville Feerie, and escort his friend to -Hauteville House, where the luncheon-table was proudly attended by -Georges and Jeanne. In the afternoon, a family drive was organised. The -largest carriage on the island was hardly big enough to contain the dear -beings by whom he loved to be surrounded. The hours drifted peacefully -towards dusk. - -While our heroine lived on future hopes and past memories, Victor Hugo -enjoyed the present more than ever. Every one knows of his gallantry, -and the bold front he offered to advancing age. Amongst other comforting -illusions, he chose to believe that women prefer old men, and he gloried -in proving his theory. With more sense than she has been credited with, -Juliette sometimes managed to close her eyes and ears; at other times -she gently rallied him, congratulating him on the success of his most -recent exploit. But more often it must be admitted that her temper was -not equal to the nobility of her nature. To jealousy was presently added -the pain of humiliation and offended dignity, caused by a vulgar -intrigue, conducted under her very eyes, at her own fireside. - -At last, at the end of the visit to Guernsey, which had turned out so -differently from her expectations, Juliette came to a grave decision. -She resolved to abandon the field to the frail beauties whom chance, -desire, or self-interest, gathered around her poet, and to retire to -live at Brest with her sister, or at Brussels with her friends the -Luthereau. - -Having borrowed 200 frs. from some one, Juliette actually started on -September 23rd, 1873, without leaving the smallest note of farewell for -Victor Hugo. But he lost no time in despatching a letter of recall, and -he couched it in terms so eloquent, and so pathetic, that once more the -poor woman was fain to overlook the past. She returned to Rue Pigalle on -September 27th. She subsequently wrote to the kind hosts with whom she -had taken refuge: "I have been very foolish, very cruel, very stupid; -but I am rewarded. If one could hope for a second resurrection like -this, one might be almost tempted to go through it all again." - - -II - -Shortly after Juliette's act of defiance, her friend imposed the fatigue -of a new removal upon her. The author of _L'Art d'etre grandpere_ had -just lost his son, Francois Victor. More than ever he turned to his -little grandchildren for consolation, and at the end of 1873, he decided -to join households with them and their mother. For a rental of 6,000 -frs. a year, he took two apartments, one above the other, at 21, Rue de -Clichy. On April 28th, 1874, Juliette took possession of the third floor -with her maid, while Madame Charles Hugo, her children, and the poet, -settled in the fourth. - -The receptions and dinners began again almost at once. At first they -were weekly, then bi-weekly, and finally daily. The table was large and -well attended. In addition to the five people forming the family party, -including Juliette, there were rarely fewer than seven guests. Our -heroine, in her capacity of chief steward, usually provided for twelve. -She liked the fare to be simple and substantial: _sole Normande_, -_cotelettes Soubise_, and _poulets au cresson_ were the chief items of -the repast. - -Housekeeping on this scale demanded a staff of competent servants. -Juliette had five, for whom she was responsible. She superintended their -expenditure, their purchases, and the use to which they put the -provisions; she commended good work and reproved faults, and in fact -fulfilled the functions of a majordomo in a situation where the daily -expenditure exceeded L4 for food, and approximated L2 for wines and -spirits. She also had to supervise the department of the invitations, -draw up lists, and sort the guests of each day, so as to temper the -solemnity of a Sch[oe]lcher or a Renan, with the wit and froth of a -Flaubert or a Monselet. Juliette assumed this charge, submitted the -names to Victor Hugo, wrote the letters, opened the answers, and -classified them. If anybody failed at the last moment, she telegraphed -to some one on the "subsidiary list," as she called it, and only ceased -her efforts when she was assured of being able to offer to the -gratified master a full table and a numerous and docile court. - -She was now at the head of that court, but it must not be supposed that -it was by her own desire. On the contrary, she practised the most severe -self-effacement. Clad in black, wearing as her only jewel a cameo set in -gold, representing Madame Victor Hugo, and bequeathed to her in the -latter's will, she usually sat at the chimney-corner in a large -arm-chair. Fatigued by her laborious preparations, it frequently -happened that she fell asleep in the drawing-room, as Madame Victor Hugo -had been wont to do. This lapse of manners so covered her with -confusion, that she made a vow either to bring her health up to the -level of her devotion or else to disappear from view. She did, in fact, -redouble her activities, to an extent astonishing in a septuagenarian. -She undertook to follow the aged poet whenever he mingled with crowds. -At Quinet's and Frederic Lemaitre's funerals, she was present in the -throng, an infirm old woman, watching from a distance, over a Victor -Hugo, upright as a dart, and full of vitality. Did he wish to make an -ascent in a balloon, she was there; when he conducted a rehearsal, or -read one of his early dramas to his modern interpreters, it was she who -led the applause, declared that the voice of Olympio had retained all -its strength and beauty, and that he had never read better. - -In the period between 1874 and 1878 it must be conceded that Victor Hugo -did his best to secure to his friend a greater degree of mental -tranquillity than she had ever enjoyed before. He was careful to conceal -his infidelities from her, and often succeeded in averting scenes and -reproaches; or, if denial seemed impossible, he tried to palliate his -fault and gain indulgence by addressing to her one of those poetical -odes in which he excelled, and from which she derived such pride and -joy. - -But these were only passing revivals of youthful emotions, in the poet -as well as in his friend. They resemble those bonfires of dead leaves, -lighted by labourers in autumn on the summit of bare hills--their flame -can ill withstand the slightest puff of wind. Such a puff blew upon the -old couple in the course of the year 1878. - -Juliette was greatly troubled about the state of her health. She wrote -to the poet, on January 8th: "I feel that everything is going from me -and crumbling in my grasp: my sight, my memory, my strength, my -courage." - -On June 28th of the same year, at one of those copious banquets to which -he still did full justice, and in the midst of an argument with Louis -Blanc concerning Voltaire and Rousseau, Victor Hugo had a cerebral -attack which alarmed his friends exceedingly. His speech faltered, he -gesticulated feebly. Two doctors summoned in haste failed to give -reassurance, and prescribed absolute rest in the country. On July 4th, -the poet was escorted to Guernsey by a large retinue consisting of his -grandchildren, the Meurice family, Juliette, Monsieur and Madame -Lockroy, Richard Lesclide, and another friend, Pelleport. But no sooner -had they reached the island, than Victor Hugo began to show symptoms of -agitation. It could not be on account of his illness, for he was living -quietly and comfortably, rejoicing at the amusement the season afforded -his friends, and taking his own share of it. But, according to the -testimony of one who has published a book concerning the master as witty -as it is frank,[56] the reason was that he had left behind him in Paris -the heroines of several intrigues; amongst others, the young person -whose behaviour had occasioned Juliette's fit of anger and departure for -Brest,[57] and he was fearful lest the post should convey to Guernsey -the forlorn cooings of the deserted doves, and that some echo of them -should reach Juliette. - -Our heroine was certainly informed of some of the circumstances, for on -August 20th, 1878, while still at Guernsey, she wrote the old man a -letter which is a revelation of the changed character of their -intercourse. Victor Hugo answered somewhat crossly and contemptuously, -and nicknamed Juliette "the schoolmistress." - -On his return to Paris on November 10th, he consented to remove to the -little house at Avenue d'Eylau where he ended his days, and which was -then almost in the country. Juliette took the first floor, and he -occupied the second. But presently she arranged to spend the nights in a -spare room next to his, so that she might be at hand to attend upon him -if necessary. - -From that moment it may be said that her life declined into -uninterrupted sadness and servitude. She was suffering from an internal -cancer, and knew that she was condemned to die of slow starvation! -Nevertheless, she played her part of sick nurse with a devotion and a -minute attention to detail to which all witnesses tender their homage. -She it was who entered the poet's chamber each morning, and woke him -with a kiss; she, who put a match to the fire ready laid on the hearth, -and prepared the eggs for his breakfast; she, who waited on the old man -while he ate, opened his letters, made extracts from them when -necessary, and answered the most important. It was she, again, who -undertook to keep her beloved friend company until midday, and to amuse -him, and acquaint him with the current political and literary news. - -The task was heavy enough to weary a much younger brain. Juliette found -it almost beyond her strength. In 1880 she was so overwrought that she -had become nervous, irritable, and restless. At night, when her offices -of reader and sick nurse were over, it must not be supposed that she was -able to sleep. From her bed in the adjoining room, with eyes fixed, and -ear on the stretch, she watched the slumber of her dear neighbour, under -the great Renaissance baldachino, with its crimson damask curtains. Did -he cough, she rose hurriedly and administered a soothing drink; but if -she coughed herself, and thus ran the risk of awaking him, she was -furious, longed for a gag, and tried to suppress the labouring of her -suffering breast. She cursed the years that had made her love a burden -to its object, and chid her body for a bad servant no longer subservient -to her will. - -Severe as were the physical sufferings she bore so patiently under -shadow of the night, Juliette preferred them to the sadness she endured -during the long, solitary afternoons, while her former companion was at -the Senate, at the Academie, or elsewhere. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN 1883. - -From the picture by Bastien Lepage.] - -We must picture her at that period, not as Theodore de Banville -represents her in his formal description, but as Bastien Lepage painted -her with more truth, about the same time. Disease has made cruel inroads -on the grave, serene, once goddess-like features. Her poor countenance -is worn and wasted, covered with a fine network of wrinkles, each one of -which tells its tale of suffering. Her hair, whose sheen was formerly -likened by poets to the satin petals of a lily, and which once fell -naturally into crown-like waves, is roughened and harsh, and has assumed -that yellowish tinge which so often presages death. Her lips, no longer -revived by kisses, are pale, her eyes heavy and anguished, her smile -faded. - -Seated by the fire in winter, and at the open window overlooking the -Avenue d'Eylau in summer, she who was the "Princesse Negroni," now -presents the woeful appearance of a grandmother without grandchildren. - -Sometimes she tries to pray. She calls death to her aid, she complains -of the slowness with which the bonds of the soul loose those of the -body. - -In September 1882, she made a short journey with Victor Hugo to Veules, -to stay with Paul Meurice, and to Villequier, to stay with Auguste -Vacquerie. She took to her bed immediately on her return. By a great -effort of will, she got up once more, to attend the revival of _Le Roi -s'amuse_ on November 25th; then she finally returned to her chamber and -never left it again. - -Neither her body nor her mind was capable of assimilating nourishment. -She waved happy memories aside. - -Every afternoon the old poet paid her a visit. He disliked any mention -of death, and could not bear the sight of suffering. If we are to -believe Juliette, he had made a rule that every one must forswear -melancholy, and shake off sad thoughts, before appearing in his -presence. Docile as ever, the sick woman endeavoured to smile when he -entered her room. She listened submissively to the arguments by which he -sought to persuade her that she did not really suffer, that there is no -such thing as suffering. Up till May 11th, 1883, the very day of her -death, there remained thus about one hour of the day during which she -still had to play her part, restrain her moans, and look cheerful. She -did it to the best of her power, and doubtless, in the triumph of that -daily victory gained over torture by her indomitable spirit, she found -at last the answer that the poet should have put into the mouth of -Maffio--she discovered that "That which brings satisfaction to the -heart" is neither desire, nor caresses, nor even love: it is -self-sacrifice.[58] - - - - -PART II - -_LETTERS_ - - -_Sunday, 8.30 p.m. (1833)._ - -Before beginning to copy or count words,[59] I must write you one line -of love, my dear little lunatic. I love you--do you understand, I love -you! This is a profession of faith which comprises all my duty and -integrity. I love you, _ergo_, I am faithful to you, I see only you, -think only of you, speak only to you, touch only you, breathe you, -desire you, dream of you; in a word, I love you! that means everything. - -Do not therefore give way any more to melancholy; permit yourself to be -loved and to be happy. Fear nothing from me, never doubt me, and we -shall be blissful beyond words. - -I am expecting you shortly, and am ready with warm and tender caresses -which, I hope, will cheer you. - -Your JUJU. - - -(1833). - -Since you left me I carry death in my heart. If you go to the ball -to-night, it must be at the cost of a definite rupture between us. The -pain I suffer at imagining you moving among that throng of fascinating, -careless women, is too great for you to be able to inflict it without -incurring guilt towards me. Write to me "Care of Madame K...." If I do -not hear from you before midnight, I shall understand that you care very -little for me ... that all is over between us ... and for ever. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 2.30 p.m. (1833)._ - -I cannot refrain, dearly beloved, from commenting upon the profound -melancholy you were in this morning, and upon the doubt you manifest on -every occasion as to the sincerity of my love. This unjustifiable -suspicion on your part disheartens me beyond all expression. It -intimidates me and makes me fear to confide to you the incidents my -dubious position exposes me to. To-day, for instance, I concealed from -you the visit of a creditor, who presented himself to the porter, but -was not shown up. I paid him out of my own resources, without your -knowledge, because you are always telling me _I do not love you_. This -expression from you makes me feel that you hold a shameful opinion of me -and my character, rendered possible perhaps by my situation, but none -the less false, unjust, and cruel. - -I love you _because_ I love you, because it would be impossible for me -not to love you. I love you without question, without calculation, -without reason good or bad, faithfully, with all my heart and soul, and -every faculty. Believe it, for it is true. If you cannot believe, I -being at your side, I will make a drastic effort to force you to do so. -I shall have the mournful satisfaction of sacrificing myself utterly to -a distrust as absurd as it is unfounded. - -Meanwhile, I ask your pardon for the guilty thought that came to me this -morning, and which may possibly recur, if you continue to see in my love -only a mean-spirited compliance and an unworthy speculation. This letter -is very lengthy, and very sad to write. I trust with all my soul, that I -may never have to reiterate its sentiments. - -I love you. Indeed I love you. Believe in me. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 8.15 p.m. (1833)._ - -Here is a second letter. Forgive my epistolary extravagance. Honestly, I -imagine you must soon tire, to put it as mildly as possible, of this -superabundance of letters. - -The reason of my writing again is no novel one: it is merely to repeat -that I love you every day and every instant more and more; that I feel -convinced you are only too eager to return my sentiments, but that -between your desire and your capacity there stands a wall a hundred feet -high, entitled "suspicion." Suspicion leads to contempt, and when that -exists, no real love is possible. There is no answer to what I have just -stated. I feel it, and am crushed by my sorrow. I know not what to do, -where to go, what plans to make. I can only suffer, just as I can only -love you. - -JULIETTE. - -If ever this letter is found, it will be seen that my love was -insufficient in your eyes to atone for my past. - -_2 a.m. (1833)._ - -MY VICTOR, - -I love you truly, and neither know, nor can conceive, any personality -more deserving of devotion than yourself. - -I look up to you as a faithful, reliable friend, as the noblest and most -estimable of men. - -It hurts me to feel that my past life must be an obstacle to your -confidence. Before I cared for you, I felt no shame for it, I made no -attempt to conceal or alter it; but, since I have known you, this -attitude of mind has changed in every respect. I blush for myself, and -dread lest my love have not the strength to erase the stains of the -past. I fear it even more, when you suspect me unjustly. - -My Victor, it is for your love to sanctify me, for your esteem to renew -in me all that once was good and pure. - -I care for you so much that all this is possible. I will become worthy -of you, if you will only help me. - -Farewell. You are my soul, my life, my religion; I love you. - -JULIETTE. - -Your appreciation of my letters is one of the best proofs of love you -have yet given me. I will set to work to reconstruct them. Nothing has -happened since you left me yesterday, except that my love for you has -increased. - - -(1833.) - -Before reading this letter, look upon me once more with affection. - -My poor friend, I am about to grieve and surprise you greatly. Yet it -has to be done. I no longer have the courage to bear up against your -unjust and suspicious jealousy, and your continued mistrust of a -sentiment as pure and true as that which one cherishes towards God. They -wear me out and make me wretched to the last degree. I would rather -leave you, than expose myself to fresh grief, which might end in -destroying either my reason or my love. This resolve is dictated by the -excess of my affection. Even if you suffer, forgive me, and bless me -before you leave me for ever. I love you. - -J. - - -(1833.) - -Since you insist upon a denial of offences which exist only in your -imagination, I owe it to you to make it comprehensive and without -restriction. It is not true that I have tried to offend you by -reproaches unworthy of yourself and of me. It is not true that I have -ever held any opinion of you, but this one, that I esteem you above all -men. - -The real and irrevocable cause of our estrangement, is the certainty -that your love for me is incomplete. I am more persuaded of it every -day, and particularly to-day, when you have actually told me that you -thought I had misled you as to the state of my affections. - -This is a grave offence towards a woman who has never deceived you on -the subject of her heart, and whose only fault is to love you too much; -for her very excess in this respect, has given her the sad courage to -risk losing your esteem, in order to preserve your love one day longer. - -But I am unwilling to think you intended to hurt me by allowing me to -see the canker in your heart. I prefer to believe that we are equally -the victims of a calamity, under which our only resource, is to separate -from one another. Possibly our wounds will heal when they are no longer -exposed to the continual friction of carping suspicion. - -Good-bye. Forgive me if I have offended you. I am loath to hurt you. - -J. - -I beg you not to attempt to see me again. This is the last sacrifice I -will ask of you.[60] - - -_(June 1833.)_ - -MY DEAR VICTOR, MY BELOVED, - -Do not be anxious! I am as well as a poor woman, who has lost her -happiness and the sole joy of her existence, can expect to be. If I -could let you know my place of refuge without exposing us both, but more -particularly myself, to useless wretchedness, I would do so. Confidence, -the indispensable ingredient in a union such as ours, no longer exists -in your mind. God is my witness that I have never once deceived you in -matters of love, during the past four months. Any concealment I have -been guilty of, has only been with the intention of sparing us both -unnecessary worry, in view of the attitude of mind we have been in -lately. - -I may have been wrong; the purity of my intention must be my excuse. - -[Illustration: CLAIRE PRADIER. - -From an unpublished drawing by Pradier.] - -_9.45 p.m. Saturday, August 13th (1833)._ - -While you are on your travels, dearest, my thoughts follow you in all -love. Though I still feel somewhat sore, I will strive to control -myself, and speak only those gentle words you like to hear. - -It was dear of you to allow me to come to your house.[61] It was far -more than a satisfaction to my curiosity, and I thank you for having -admitted me to the spot where you live, love, and work. Yet, to be -entirely frank with you, my adored, I must tell you that the visit -filled me with sadness and dejection. I realise more than ever, the -depth of the chasm that gapes between your life and mine. It is no fault -of yours, beloved, nor of mine; but so it is. It would be unreasonable -of me to call you to account for more than you are responsible for, yet -I may surely tell you, dearly beloved, that I am the most miserable of -women. - -If you have any pity for me, dear love, you will assist me to rise -superior to the lowly and humble position which tortures my spirit as -well as my body. - -Help me, my good angel, that I may believe in you and in the future. - -I beg and implore you. - -J. - - -(1833.) - -It is not quite six o'clock in the evening. I have just finished copying -the verses you gave me yesterday. I am not very familiar with the forms -of compliment in usage in fashionable society. All I can tell you is -that I wept and admired when I heard you read them, that I wept and -admired when I read them to myself, and that once more I weep and admire -in recalling them. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for having -thought of me when you were writing them. Thank you, my beloved, for the -benign sentiments that inspired you. Your beautiful lines have had the -effect you anticipated, for they have acted both as a cordial and a -sedative to my sick spirit. Thank you! thank you! and again, thank you! -You are not only sublime--you are kind, and, what is better still, you -are indulgent, you who have so much right to be severe. - -I love you. My heart melts in admiration and adoration. There is more -rapture of love in my poor bosom than it is capable of containing. Come -then, and receive the superabundance of my ecstasy. - -If you only knew how I long for you, and desire you! If you knew _more -still_, you would come, I am very sure! Come, come, I beg you, come! You -shall have a kiss for every step, a recompense for every effort, more -smiles, and more joy, than you will encounter fog and cold. - -JULIETTE. - -I am writing this a little later because, before turning to business, I -had to unburthen my heart. I came home yesterday, read your poetry, -dined, did my accounts, and went to bed. I read the newspapers you sent, -went to sleep, dreamed of you, and woke up this morning at 8 o'clock. I -rose almost immediately, did some housework, and mended yesterday's -frock. In the middle of breakfast Lanvin arrived, bringing the -newspapers and a letter from M. Pradier and some of Mademoiselle -Watteville's luggage. He asked whether we should want him to see us off. -He left again at 1 p.m., taking Claire's things with him and some of his -wife's. When he had gone, I washed and did my hair, did the same for -Claire, and at 2.30 I sat down to copy, and now I am writing to you. -This, Colonel, is my report. Are you satisfied? Then, so is the Corporal -of the Guard! After dinner I shall hear the children their lessons, and -count the lines of _Feuilles d'Automne_. - -_After dinner._ - -I have heard the children's lessons, and been obliged to punish your -_protegee_, Claire, who is the laziest and idlest of all the pupils. I -have just read your poem to Madame Lanvin; she was deeply moved. The -poor thing understands you, therefore I need not explain that she loves -you. Good-night, until to-morrow, I hope. - -I suppose you did not come to-day because you had arrangements to make -for our journey; that is why I am able to possess my soul in patience. - -J. - - -_Sunday, 4 p.m. (1833)._ - -I have just come in sad and depressed. I suffer, I weep, I wail aloud -and moan under my breath, to God and to you. I long to die, that I might -put an end once and for all, to this misery and disappointment and -sorrow. It really seems as if my happiness had disappeared with the fine -weather. It would be folly to expect to see either again. The season is -too far advanced for fine weather or for happy days. You poor silly, -who wonder that I should deplore so bitterly the loss of one day's -happiness, it is easy to see that you had not to wait for the privilege -of loving and being loved till you were twenty-six years old! You poet, -who wrote _Les Feuilles d'Automne_ in an atmosphere of love, laughter of -children, eyes azure and black, locks brown and gold, happiness in full -measure! You have had no cause to notice how one day of gloom and rain, -like this, can make the greenest of leaves wither and fall to the -ground. You cannot therefore know how twenty-four hours robbed of bliss -can undermine one's self-confidence and strength for the future. It is -evident that you do not, for you wonder when I weep; you are almost -annoyed at my grief. You see, therefore, that you do not realise the -measure of my devotion. Surely I have good reason for regretting that I -love you so ardently, when I see that love uncalled for and unwelcome! -Oh, yes, I love you, it is true! I love you in spite of myself, in spite -of you, in spite of the whole world, in spite of God, in spite even of -the Devil, who mixes himself up in it. - -I love you, I love you, I love you, happy or unhappy, merry or sad. I -love you! Do with me what you will, I still shall love you. - -J. - - -_Monday, 1.50 a.m., 1833._ - -I have been standing at the window all this time, my soul stretched -towards you, my ear attentive to every sound, fearing always lest your -courage should fail you before the end of your weary walk. It is half an -hour since you left; I have listened hard, but no sound has reached me -that could make me apprehend you had not the strength to reach your own -house. I trust that while I am penning these lines, you are already -experiencing the relief that bed and repose will bring to your -suffering. No words of mine can suffice to express to you my regret, my -sorrow, my despair, for what happened to-night. I do not acquit you -altogether of guilt, but I ask you to pardon your own, as well as mine. -Forgive me for having yielded to you after what had passed between us. I -ought to have foreseen what would happen, and what did happen. God -knows, I had resisted as long as I could, and had given way only upon -the solemn promise you made me, never to refer to the stains of my -former life, so long as my conduct towards you should remain honest and -pure. - -The last seven months of my life have been absolutely honest and pure! -Yet, have you kept your word? - -If I were the only one to suffer I should be more resigned, but you are -as unhappy as I; you are as ashamed of the insults you heap upon me, as -I am, of receiving them. - -Now that I perceive fully the canker that lies at the root of our -position, it is my part to arrest the progress of the evil by cutting -out my soul and my life, to preserve what can still be saved of yours -and mine. - -Listen, Victor, I urge you not to refuse me your assistance in carrying -out the plan I think indispensable for the honour of us both. - -If anything can give you courage it must be the knowledge that I have -been faithful to you alone, these seven months. Ah, truly I have never -deceived you! Truly! truly! Yet in the course of these same months, how -many mortifying scenes such as that of to-night have taken place! - -Surely you can see that we must no longer hesitate! I will go away by -the first Saumur omnibus. The health of my little girl can serve as a -pretext. When I am with her, I shall be able to reflect upon my -position, and see what I can do in order to render it tolerable. If, as -probably may be necessary, I were to leave the theatre, the furniture -would cover my debt to Jourdain, and if you were unwilling to be -worried, I could request any man of business to sell it, up to the -amount of my bill to Jourdain, which is the only one for which you are -responsible. - -I shall go abroad. Such as I am, I am still capable of earning my -living, which is all that is necessary. - -But all this is beside the question. The important point is that I ought -to start as soon as possible, to-day even, in order to protect us both -from ourselves. - -Before going, I hope to see you once more, unless your condition should -become worse--which is a horrifying thought when I consider that I am -the cause of it. - -But whether I see you or not, whether you are the victim of my temper or -not, I leave with you all my love and all my happiness. I do not reserve -even hope; I give into your keeping my soul, my thoughts, my life. I -take only with me my body, which you have no cause to regret. - -JULIETTE. - - -(_December 20th, 1833._) - -MY BELOVED VICTOR, - -I have been very unjust to you. You have had cause to call me ungrateful -and unworthy. You will soon hate me--soon also, you will have forgotten -me. I feel it. You see, there can be no thought or sentiment of yours -that I do not understand and apprehend. At this moment, even while I am -writing to you, you are blaming me for suffering. You are annoyed with -me for idolising you with an extravagance which renders me mad and -jealous. You are tired of my love. It cramps you, fatigues you. You -meditate flying from me. My bad luck frightens you; you fear to share it -longer. You dread the responsibility--say, rather, you love me less, -perhaps not at all. Oh, what suffering that fear gives me! My head is -aching. I wish I could die. It must be my fault. I have been wrong to -show you the hideous wound in my heart, the jealousy which lacerates and -destroys it. Yes, I ought to have concealed my sufferings from you. I -ought never to fly into those rages that betray the depth of my love and -grief. - -My Victor, do not leave me! I beg you on my knees, not to be daunted -before a public responsibility. Who has the right to demand from you an -account of the measure of the sacrifices you have made for me? What does -it matter if you are denied the justice you deserve? What matter that -you should be held responsible in part for my troubles? The point to be -considered before all others, is your private relations with me. The -responsibility you must accept is towards me only; it concerns only our -two selves. If you repudiate it, it will kill me, for my whole life is -wrapped up in you and your presence. I breathe only through your lips, -see only with your eyes, live only in your heart. If you withdraw -yourself from me, I must die. - -Reflect! This is not a threat, to keep you near me. I am not -exaggerating the extent to which you are necessary to my very -existence--I am only telling you what I feel. It is the truth, but the -truth under restriction, for I hardly dare acknowledge it in its -entirety, even to myself. _I need you! Only you! I cannot exist without -you._ Think of it. Try to love me enough to accept the charge of my -life, with all its attendant bad luck. - -JULIETTE. - - -_2 a.m., January 1st, 1834._ - -TO THEE, MY VICTOR! - -I dare not say anything. Guess what I am feeling and do with me what you -will! - -I love you ... the memory of what has gone before, and my fears for the -future, prevent me from describing my emotions as freely as formerly. -Forget the past, take the future into your own hands, and I shall regain -the faculty of saying "I love you," as earnestly as I mean it. - -I love you.... JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday morning, 1834._ - -TO MONSIEUR VICTOR HUGO, - -IN TOWN. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1830. - -From Champmartin's picture (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -It is a quarter to one. I have been to your printing-works, numbers 16 -and 19; you had not been seen. I went on to your house; you had not come -in. I wrote you a line; I waited for you.... At last I came home hoping -to find you; but you had not been here. My thanks to you for treating me -like a vagrant dog. You had informed me that you were going to the -printing-works, that you might go back to your house, that you would -certainly go to mine. - -You forgot your promises at once, and you apparently hold my love very -cheap. - -If you, indifferent though you may be, could see me in imagination, as I -sit writing to you, you would be horrified at the condition your -injustice and disdain have reduced me to. - -It is evident that you no longer love me, and that you are only bound to -me by the fear of causing some great calamity if you desert me. It is -indeed grievous that this should be the only sentiment which links you -to me, and I am unwilling to accept a devotion so hollow and -humiliating. I give you back your freedom. From this moment you have no -responsibility towards me, although my heart is broken, although my soul -is still fuller of love than it is able to contain, although my eyes, as -I write, are drenched with bitter tears. I shall still have the courage -necessary to bear my life as it will be, when bereft of happiness and -laughter. - -You have been very cruel to me. I forgive you. Forgive also my tempests -of rage. I am ashamed of them, and thoroughly wretched. I swear to you -by that which I hold most sacred in life, namely my child, that I am -unable to explain how I can have been guilty yesterday of a thing I -utterly disapprove of, and which seems to me the acme of effrontery. I -swear I never saw those men. I am innocent of any crime. I can say no -more. You have crushed me by referring again to my past life, and even -while I am assuring you of my love and repentance, and while I still -hope for a reconciliation, I tremble to feel that you can suspect me so -unjustly. My heart shrinks from the sorrow still in store for it ... my -pen fails me ... - -Farewell! May you enjoy greater tranquillity and happiness than will -fall to my lot. Do not forget that, for a whole year, we were happy -solely by means of our love. - -Good-bye! I have indeed received my full meed of punishment for the -imaginary crime of yesterday. - -Farewell. Think of me without bitterness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 2 a.m. (1834)._ - -I returned from the Place Royale about two hours ago. It was ten o'clock -when I arrived there, and I left at about midnight. I had hoped to bring -you back with me, or, failing to do so, to catch at least a glimpse of -you. I waited patiently all that time, hoping that you would become -aware of my presence, and reward me for it by one glance. But everything -remained dark and gloomy for me, though it was easy to see the lights -through the drawn blinds, and the shadows of many people moving about. - -It will not be the last time, in all probability, that I shall have the -opportunity of seeing that, while I suffer and weep, you make merry. -Forgive me, my Victor, forgive me for this comparison of our respective -lots. It is the last time I shall make it, perhaps even the last time I -shall write to you, for you have said that you will not read any more of -my letters for a long time ... a long time signifies "for ever," for you -will forget me and I shall die. Your love was my whole life. To-night I -feel as miserable as I should be if you no longer loved me. God, how -sorely I need pity! - -I have just obeyed your wishes by putting all your works away carefully. -As for my own relics of you, I have collected them in an English desk, -under lock and key, and hidden them under my bolster, where they shall -always remain. - -Farewell, the performance of this duty has been a mournful satisfaction -to me. - -_Saturday, 6 p.m., 1834._ - -TO THEE, MY BELOVED. - -You promised that as soon as your work was finished, you would devote -all your time to me; you also said, when you were leaving me yesterday, -that you would come early this morning. Neither of these promises have -you kept; yet I have never longed for your presence and your love more -than at this moment, when anxiety seems to have taken up its abode with -me. I have been so worried that I do not know whether I could endure -another day like this. - -I am thankful to leave this house; it is so haunted by ill-luck and -sadness, that to be quit of it will be a relief. - -My Victor, what is going to become of us? What can we do to avert the -misfortune that threatens us?[62] Can you think of any way out of the -trouble? Do you love me? I love you so! in prosperity, and still more in -adversity. Oh, God be merciful to me! Without your help I am done. - -JULIETTE. - -I have no other refuge or I should not go to Madame K. I cannot wander -about alone, for that would make you anxious; yet I cannot stay here, I -am too miserable. I will wait for you at Madame K.'s house until nine -o'clock. I hardly know what I am writing, or have written. My reason and -will are in abeyance this morning. - -I write because I am wretched, because I must make moan to someone or -something. I write because I shall soon be dead. These lines will be the -cold remains of my soul and thoughts and love, as my body will be the -corpse of my warm flesh and blood. - -I write to declare my faith, to obtain pardon of my sins, to weep, -because my tears strangle me and will put an end to me. - -I shall be in the street to-night. I shall remain there as long as my -strength holds out, without hope, but still, near you.... - - -_Midnight, Saturday, August 2nd, 1834._ - -TO VICTOR. - -Farewell for ever. You have decreed it thus. Farewell then, and may you -be as happy and admired as I shall be hapless and forlorn. - -Farewell! This word comprises my whole life, and joy, and happiness. - -JULIETTE. - - -I am going away with my child. I am just going out to fetch her and take -our places. The Comedie Francaise management has no claim on my services -until it has assigned me my parts. My maid has orders to open my -letters. If there should be one from the Comedie Francaise she would let -me know at once and everything could be arranged. I need not, therefore, -worry about it at present. - - -(1834.) - -MADEMOISELLE MARIE, -C/O MADAME DROUET, -No. 4 bis, Rue de Paradis au Marais, Paris. - -Enclosed is a letter for Monsieur Victor Hugo. If he should not come to -the house, try and manage to let him know that there is one awaiting him -at No. 4, Rue de Paradis au Marais, from Madame Kraftt. If he is still -in Paris I expect he will understand what you mean, and will either send -for it or fetch it himself. In any case, write to me by every post and -tell me about Monsieur Victor Hugo: whether you have seen him, what he -has said to you, whether he is still in Paris, or whether he has left; -in fact, tell me everything you can find out concerning him. - -I am writing from Rennes, where I arrived very ill, with my child. I -hope, however, to be able to leave to-morrow and go to my sister. Write -to me there and address thus: - -MADAME DROUET, -C/O M. LOUIS KOCK, -Saint Renan, -By Brest. - -Please take good care of the house. - -J. DROUET. - - - (ENCLOSURE) - -RENNES, -_2.30 p.m., Monday (1834)._ - -MY DEAR VICTOR, - -I am writing this letter on the chance of its reaching you, but with the -sad premonition that you will never read it. - -My beloved, I love you more than ever. I cannot do without you. I would -willingly die for you, but I cannot consent to accept a devotion which -might endanger your health and your life. I was forced to fly from you. -It cost me much to resist your supplications and your wrathful glances. -I suffered frightfully; and now, alas, I know that, were you with me, I -could no longer withstand either your gentle pleading or your terrible -anger. I am very wretched. I love and bless you. Be happy! - -JULIETTE. - - -One portion of your curse has already come to pass. My soul and body -have suffered severely. In addition, I have been harried to death by the -idiotic authorities, who are suspicious of every woman without a -passport. I have been at Rennes about half an hour. It is half-past two. -I leave again for Brest to-morrow morning at four o'clock; I expect to -arrive on Thursday at five in the evening. My Victor, I love you. I -could do anything for you. Have pity upon me. I love you better than -anything in life. - - -_August 5th, 1834._ - -MADEMOISELLE MARIE, -Care of MADAME DROUET, -No. 4 bis, Rue de Paradis au Marais, Paris. - -Here is another letter for Monsieur Victor Hugo. Try to get it to him. -If he is in the country near Paris, let him know that there is something -at my house in the name of Madame Kraftt that will interest him. - -I have spent a sad and sleepless night. I am afraid of falling really -ill. Answer this at once. - -J. DROUET. - - - (ENCLOSURE) - -RENNES, -_4 a.m., August 5th (1834)._ - -Victor, I love you. Victor, I shall die of this separation. I need you, -to be able to live. Since I told you everything, since the moment when -my eyes could no longer rest upon yours, I have felt as if all my veins -were being opened, and my life's blood slowly drained away. I feel -myself dying, and I know that I love you the better for every pang. My -Victor, can you forgive me? Do you still love me? Is it really true that -you hate me, that I am odious in your sight, that you despise me, that -you would grind my face to the pavement if I pressed my lips to your -feet, pleading for forgiveness? Oh, if you still love me, if you still -respect me, if you can forgive everything, only tell me so, and I will -do all you wish! Everything, I swear! Will you take me back? - -I am very ill. - -J. - - -_3 a.m. (1834)._ - -FOR MY VICTOR. - -While I was expecting to see you I could not sleep. Now that the hope is -dead I still cannot sleep because I am unhappy. I grieve not to have -seen you; I grieve because I was cross and ill-tempered when you were -gentle and charming. I rehearse in imagination all the incidents of the -evening, and the pain at my heart grows unbearable. It is wicked of me -to torment you, yet I cannot help myself. My offence goes by the name of -"jealousy." Much as I dread displeasing you, I yet cannot avoid giving -way to that hideous passion. I make you miserable when I should like to -saturate you with happiness. Oh, it is horribly wrong of me! I am much -to be pitied, for I am jealous, and of whom? The most beautiful, the -most gentle, the most perfect of women ... your wife! Heaven forgive me! -My torment is surely sufficient expiation for my fault! - -God, how I love you! how I love my Victor! All is contained in these -words. You do forgive me, do you not? and you love me as much as ever? I -hope so ... else, I should prefer to die. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 3 p.m. (1834)._ - -I have abandoned hope ... yet love remains. I no longer believe that any -happiness is possible for me in the future, but _you_ I love more every -day; better than the first day, better than yesterday, better than this -morning, better than a moment ago; and still I am not happy. - -[Illustration: A PAGE OF JULIETTE DROUET'S NOTE-BOOK IN 1834. - -The note-book belongs to M. Louis Barthou.] - -You remember what I used to say to you when _Marie Tudor_ was in -rehearsal? "Those wretches have robbed me of my self-confidence; I dare -not, cannot rehearse any more; I feel paralysed." - -To-day, it is not a theatrical part that is in question--it is my life. -Now that calumny has crushed me, now that my mode of life has been -condemned without my having a chance of self-defence, now that my health -and reason have been expended in this struggle without profit or glory, -now that I have been held up before the public as a woman without a -future, I dare not, cannot live longer ... this is absolutely true ... I -dare not live. This fear has brought me to the verge of suicide ... a -peculiar suicide. I do not propose to kill myself like other people. I -mean to sever myself from you, and, to me, such a severance signifies -death. Death certainly. I have already made one experiment of the kind, -therefore I am sure. - -I am confirmed in this project by the reflection that you will thereby -be restored to liberty; that you will be free to direct your life and -your genius in the way best suited to your happiness; that I shall no -longer be an obstacle in your path, but an object of pity and -indulgence--pity for what I shall suffer, indulgence and forgiveness for -such of my faults as have made you suffer. - -If the excess of my love and grief should bring me back to your side, do -not notice me ... shut your eyes, stop your ears, remain in your own -house ... thus you may learn to forget, while I ... I ... shall die. I -shall not suffer long. I shall soon be at rest. - -It is raining hard at this moment, and I am in a raging fever. No -matter, I shall go out. I do not know whether you propose coming to -fetch me. If you do not, I cannot tell what time I shall return home. I -don't care, I am mad! I am in torture such as I have never yet endured! -yet I love you even more than I suffer. My love dominates my whole -being. I love you! - -JULIETTE. - - -5.30 (1834). - -You wish me to write to you in your absence. I am always unwilling to -accede to this desire, for when we are separated, my thoughts are so sad -and painful that I should prefer to hide them from you if possible. - -You see, my Victor, this sedentary, solitary life is killing me. I wear -my soul out with longing. My days are spent in a room twelve feet -square. What I desire is not the world, not empty pleasures, but -_liberty_--_liberty_ to act, liberty to employ my time and strength in -household duties. What I want is a respite from suffering, for I endure -a thousand deaths every moment. I ask for life--life like yours, like -other people's. If you cannot understand this, and if I seem foolish or -unjust in your eyes, leave me, do not worry about me any more. I hardly -know what I am writing; my eyes are inflamed, my heart heavy. I want -air, I am suffocating! Oh, Heaven, have pity upon me! What have I done -to deserve such wretchedness? I love you, I adore you, my Victor; have -pity upon me. Kill me with one blow, but do not let me suffer as many -eternities as there are minutes in every one of your absences. - -What am I saying? I am delirious, feverish. Oh God, have mercy on me! - -JULIETTE. - - -_November 4th, 8.30 p.m. (1834)._ - -Yes, you are my support, the stable earth beneath my feet, my hope, my -joy, my happiness, my all! I do not know how these halting words of mine -can be expected to convey my thoughts to your mind, but this indeed is -truly and sincerely meant: that you are to me the noblest, most sincere, -most generous of men. I believe this, and have absolute confidence in -your power to frustrate the evil fate which holds me in its grip. - -My dearly beloved, you were quite charming just now, and you are -perfectly right when you say that there is an element of vanity in your -nobility of conduct; for nothing could be more becoming than the elegant -and dignified manner in which you raised me just now from my knees. You -were really great. You were a king! - -My darling little Toto, _cheri!_ I am going to bed now, because I am not -certain that you will come early enough to take me out; and, after all, -you are not the sort of man to be scandalised by finding a woman in bed, -especially ... - -JULIETTE. - - -1834. - -MY DEARLY BELOVED, - -I am always wishing I were a great actress, because, if my soul and -intellect were equal to yours, another link would be forged between us; -but I wish it still more at such a time as this, for I should then be -able to relieve you of the annoyance of being at the mercy of an old -woman, whose conceit has made her aggressive.[63] - -I need not finish this letter, for here you are! - - -1835. - -It is long after 11 o'clock. I am no longer expecting you for a walk, -but I still hope to see you this evening. I write you these few lines as -an apology for the disappointment I feel each time you fail me. I am -miserable, but not angry; I shed tears, but do not reproach you; I am -often much to be pitied, but I never cease loving you to distraction. If -only you would believe this, I think I could bear my invidious position -with more resignation. I am afraid you misapprehend my love, and this -anxiety often makes the days seem long and sad. - -But I must not forget that you are working and worn out, and that you -have neither strength nor leisure to listen, that is to say, to read of -my worries. - - -11.30 _p.m._ - -Here you are! I am finishing this letter more untidily even than usual. -Luckily one's character, and, more important still, one's heart, are not -exclusively interpreted by one's handwriting. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 3.15 p.m._ (1835). - -MY POOR, DEAR, BELOVED TOTO, - -When I see you so preoccupied with important business I am ashamed to -add to your fatigues by the reiteration of my devotion, which you -already know by heart. Did I not fear that you would misunderstand my -silence, I should put an end to these letters, which, after all, are -only a cold skeleton, a dull narrative of the generous, tender, -passionate feelings which fill my heart. I should stop them, I say, -until after the production of your play, reserving to myself the -privilege of taking my revenge afterwards by multiplying my words and -caresses. This is what I should do if you felt only a quarter as much -solicitude for your dear little person as I do. - -It is nearly three o'clock. I hope by this time everything has gone off -well at rehearsal. It is high time, my admired, beloved, adored poet, -you left that wretched den they call the Theatre Francais. You will -leave it with full credit to yourself, notwithstanding the ill-will of -that jealous old wretch, and the stupidity, hatred, and malice of the -cabal against you. - -You will see, my splendid lion, whether those hideous crows will dare -croak in face of your roaring. As for me, if anything could make me -prouder and happier, it would be that I alone understand you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 1.30 p.m., April 11th (1835)._ - -Why were you so smart just now? It makes me dreadfully anxious, -especially in conjunction with your early morning walks to the Arsenal. -Toto ... Toto ... you do not know what I am capable of; take care! I do -not love you for nothing. If you deceived me the least bit in the world -I should kill you. But no, seriously, I am jealous when I see you so -fascinating. I do not feel as reassured as you would wish me to be. In -fact, I insist upon attending these rehearsals. I do not choose to -confide my dear lover to the discretion of nobody knows who. I wish to -keep my lover to myself, in the face of the nation and of all French -actresses. - -That is my politic and literary resolve: I shall put it into execution, -from to-morrow. - -By the way, this is my birthday. You did not even know it--or, rather, I -dare say you do not care whether I was ever born or not. Is it true that -you do not mind one little bit? That is all the importance you attach to -my love! And yet one thing is very certain: that I was created and put -into the world solely to love you, and God knows with what ardour I -fulfil my mission. - -I love you--ah, yes, indeed, I love you--I love my Victor! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 p.m. (1835)._ - -I am more than ever resolved to separate our lives one from the other. -What you say about Mlle. Mars's increasing age and the impossibility of -obtaining a double success through her, literary as well as financial, -and about the necessity of securing the services of Madame Dorval or -some equally handsome and celebrated actress, makes me determined to -sever our connection as speedily as possible, no matter where I may have -to go, or under what pecuniary conditions. Your words to-night prove -that you have had private intelligence about Mlle. Mars, Madame Dorval, -and the theatre generally, that you have concealed from me, although it -must completely revolutionise the plans made by you for the first play -you were to give at this theatre. The secrecy you have maintained on the -subject, contrary to all your promises to conceal nothing from me, -grieves me more than the treachery of Monsieur Harel and Mlle. George, -more even than the wicked animosity of your enemies and the perfidy of -your intimate friends against myself. This silence is proof positive -that I am a hindrance to your interests; you dread my ambition and my -jealousy; you had already seen the propriety of giving a part to Madame -Dorval, but you did not dare tell me so, for fear of encountering -resistance and tears from me at this new distribution. You have only -partially averted these. I will not attempt to thwart you, on the -contrary; as for my tears, they are not worth wiping away, nor even -restraining.[64] From this very night we cease our communion of dramatic -interests. I go back to the position I ought never to have left: that of -a hack actress, who is given any part, and badly paid at that. You -resume your liberty without any impediment. - -Let us hope this new resolution will conduce to our greater happiness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, April 28th, 1835. -Four hours before the production of "Angelo."_ - -This is just to remind you of my love, and that it will only be purified -and augmented by the ill-luck and perfidy to which you are more exposed -than others, my noble poet, my king--king, indeed, of us all, though -lover only of me: is that not so? I have nothing to fear from you, have -I, my darling? You will take care of yourself and resist the advances of -that shameless woman. Promise me this. I would not allude to it to-day, -only I feel so uneasy at the thought of your spending the whole evening -in her society, that I would give my life to prevent it. If you -understood the greatness and quality of my love, you would appreciate my -alarm. - -Think of poor me, sitting at the back of a box to-night, enduring all -the anguish of jealousy and love. - -JULIETTE. - -Madame Pierceau came at one o'clock, leaving Monsieur Verdier in a cab -below. He was desperate at the loss of his stall, which, he hears, was -taken from him by your orders. As I did not know what to say about it, I -advised Madame Pierceau to send him to you. Monsieur Pasquier, as I -anticipated, has not taken Madame Recamier's box. I wonder what you have -done with it. Did it reach you in time? - - -_Midnight, Tuesday, April 28th, 1835. -An hour after the triumph of "Angelo."_ - -My cup is full. Bravo! bravo!! bravo!!! bravo!!!! bravo!!!!! For the -first time I have been able to applaud you as much as I wished, for you -were not there to prevent it. - -Thank you, my beloved! Thank you for myself, whose happiness you -increase with every second of my life, and thank you also for the crowd -that was there, admiring, listening, and appreciating you. - -[Illustration: AUTOGRAPH LETTER FROM JULIETTE DROUET TO HER DAUGHTER -CLAIRE.] - -[Illustration: AUTOGRAPH LETTER FROM JULIETTE DROUET TO HER DAUGHTER -CLAIRE (_continued_).] - -I saw and heard everything, and will tell you all about it; although if -the applause, enthusiasm, and delirium could be measured by sheer -weight, my load would indeed be heavy. I will give you full details of -the performance, to-morrow, for I dare not hope to see you to-night; it -would be too much happiness for one day, and you do not want me to go -mad with joy! - -Till to-morrow, then. If you knew how conscientiously I clapped Madame -Dorval, you would hesitate to say or do anything to add to the soreness -I already feel at the thought that another than I has been selected to -interpret your noble sentiments. There, now I am giving way to sadness -again, because you are with that woman! - -Good-night, my beloved. Sleep well, my poet, if the sound of the great -chorus of praise does not prevent it. To your laurels I add my tender -caresses and thousands of kisses. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 8 p.m. (1835)._ - -If I were a clever woman, my gorgeous bird, I could describe to you how -you unite in yourself the beauties of form, plumage, and song! I would -tell you that you are the greatest marvel of all ages, and I should only -be speaking the simple truth. But to put all this into suitable words, -my superb one, I should require a voice far more harmonious than that -which is bestowed upon my species--for I am the humble owl that you -mocked at only lately. Therefore, it cannot be. I will not tell you to -what degree you are dazzling and resplendent. I leave that to the birds -of sweet song who, as you know, are none the less beautiful and -appreciative. - -I am content to delegate to them the duty of watching, listening and -admiring, while to myself I reserve the right of loving; this may be -less attractive to the ear, but it is sweeter far to the heart. I love -you, I love you, my Victor; I cannot reiterate it too often; I can never -express it as much as I feel it. - -I recognise _you_ in all the beauty that surrounds me--in form, in -colour, in perfume, in harmonious sound: all of these mean _you_ to me. -You are superior to them all. You are not only the solar spectrum with -the seven luminous colours, but the sun himself, that illumines, warms, -and revivifies the whole world! That is what you are, and I am the lowly -woman who adores you. - -JULIETTE. - - -If you are coming to fetch me, as you led me to expect, I shall see you -very soon now. I have never longed more ardently for you. Lanvin has -just come. I will tell you about it when I see you. - - -_Thursday, 7.30 p.m. (1835)._ - -TO MY DEAR ABSENT ONE. - -I hardly saw you this morning. I have not seen you this evening, and God -knows what time it will be before you come to take me to _Angelo_--for I -do not admit the possibility of a single performance taking place -without my presence: besides, I am not sorry to know exactly how much -time you spend with these actresses of the sixteenth century, and those -of the nineteenth, who are no less dangerous. There, I am nearly as -cross as I am sad. I had vowed I would not write at length to-day, just -to teach you not to throw my letters aside without reading them. -Myself, my letters, forgotten! You certainly manage to be the most -worshipped and the least attentive of lovers. Oh, you do not care! - -Never mind, I am sad. I am longing for you to-night, as the poor -prisoner hungers for his pittance at the hour he is accustomed to -receive it. - -But you are indifferent--you can calmly let my soul die of inanition--do -you not love me, then? Tell me! - -Well, I love _you_. I love you my Victor. I forgive you, because I hope -it is not your fault, and also, because I cannot prevent myself from -loving you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 8 p.m., 1835._ - -You hurt me a little bit just now, my Toto. While I was sacrificing the -happiness of being with you one moment longer, to your need of repose, -you were worrying about trifles, and not giving me a thought or a -farewell. In moments like these I am forced to realise that you do not -care for me as I care for you, and I feel wretched in consequence. - -Another thing I have observed is that you never allude to my letters. -You neither notice the complaints I make nor the love I shower upon you -with every word. You have turned my happiness and content into sadness. -My Toto, _you do not love me as I love you_. You have exhausted your -faculty of loving. I tell myself that the enthusiastic and passionate -devotion you once cherished for me has degenerated into mere -partiality--then I mourn and mope, like a woman betrayed. - -If you knew how I love you, my Toto, you would understand the anguish of -my eagerness, you would pity me, and, instead of leaving my letters -unanswered, you would fly to me the moment you have read them, to -reassure and comfort me if my fears are unfounded. - -Never mind, I give you a thousand kisses. How many will you waste? - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 12.30 p.m. (1835)._ - -MY DEAR LITTLE TOTO, - -You have written me a very charming letter. I cannot send you one as -fascinating; all I can do is to give you my whole heart and thoughts and -life. - -You are quite right when you say that I shall soon give myself to you -again, regardless of the sorrows that may follow. It is true, for I -could sooner dispense with life than with your love. - -But let me tell you again the joy, surprise, and happiness, your letter -caused me. You are better than I, and you are right when you think me an -old idiot. I am in the seventh heaven this morning. You have never given -me so much happiness, my dear little Toto. I am so grateful! I cannot -love you more in return, for that were impossible; but I can appreciate -in a higher degree your worth and the depth of your affection for me. - -You are my dear little man, my lover, my god, my adored tyrant! I love -you, adore you, think of you, desire you, call upon you! - -JULIETTE. - -Which do you like best, quality or quantity? - - -_Monday, 8.20 p.m. (1835)._ - -I adore your jealousy when it gives me the pleasure of seeing you at an -unaccustomed hour; but when it simply consists in suspecting me without -advantage to ourselves, oh, how I detest it! - -You were rather cross to-day, but you atoned so amply by coming as you -did, that I would willingly see you a little bit unjust to me every day, -if it entailed the pleasure of having you one minute longer in the -evening. - -If you only knew how true it is that I love you, you could never be -jealous, or admit the possibility of my being unfaithful to you; and -again, if you knew how much I love you, you would come every moment of -the day and of the night, to surprise me in that occupation, and you -would ever be welcomed with transports of joy. - -Yes, yes, I love you! I do not say so to force you to believe it, but -because I crave to repeat it with every breath, with every word, in -every tone. I adore you much more than you can ever wish. I love you -above all things. - -JULIETTE. - -You attach too little importance to my letters as a rule. You forget -that fine unguents are contained in small boxes, great love in trivial -words. - - -_Friday, 2 p.m. (1835)._ - -You want a huge long letter ... and yet another huge long letter ... you -are not very modest in your requirements. What would you say if I asked -as much?--you, who write to every one in the world except me. I have a -great mind to treat you according to your deserts, and write only as -much as you write, love you only as much as you love me. You would be -nicely punished if I did this. But do not fear; I should never play you -such a scurvy trick. I am too much in need of an outlet for the -superabundance of my heart, to venture to close the issue. I am too -anxious to tell you every day how much I adore you, to condemn myself to -silence. I long too much to get near you, in thought at all events, to -afford to cut off the way of communication. Now that you know why I -write so often, I will begin my letter. - -My dear little Toto, although it is not long since I left you, I desire -you with all the impatience and all the inclination that comes of a long -separation. I should like to know where you are and what you are doing. -I should like to be wherever you are, and, above all, I should like to -be in your heart and thoughts, as you are in mine. I should like to be -you and you me, in respect of love. The rest becomes you and you only. -You are admired; I need to be loved. Are you capable, I ask you, of -loving me as much as I love you, or half as much? even that would be -immeasurable. If you only knew the extent of my love, you would treasure -me, only for that. - -I love you, love you, love you, love you, love you! - -This short little word, issuing from my heart, has impetus enough to -mount right up to the heavens. I love you! - -JULIETTE. - -I have received a letter from my daughter. This, combined with the -horrible weather, makes me quite happy. - - -_Friday, 9 p.m. (1835)._ - -You gave me a delicious afternoon. How delightfully you talked! I am not -alluding to your wit; a fly does not seek to raise an ingot of gold! -Neither do I speak of the happiness of leaning upon your arm, listening -to your voice, gazing into your eyes, breathing your breath, measuring -my steps by yours, feeling my heart beat in unison with yours. - -There can be no happiness greater than that I enjoyed this afternoon -with you, clasped in your arms, your voice mingling with mine, your eyes -in mine, your heart upon my heart, our very souls welded together. For -me, there is no man on this earth but you. The others I perceive only -through your love. I enjoy nothing without you. You are the prism -through which the sunshine, the green landscape, and life itself, appear -to me. That is why I am idle, dejected, and indifferent, when you are -not by my side. I do not know how to employ either my body or my soul, -away from you. I only come to life again in your presence. I need your -kisses upon my lips, your love in my soul. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 11 a.m. (1835)._ - -GOOD MORNING, MY VICTOR! - -Let me first kiss you. Of all the promises I made you yesterday, when we -separated, only one has been broken. I promised to love you as I loved -you at that moment--that is to say, more than all the world; but I do -not know how it happened, I have come to love you much more! and I feel -it will be so as long as I shall live. I beg you, my dear little Toto, -to make up your mind to this, as I have already done. - -Do you know, my blessed Toto, you are a second little Tom Thumb, far -more marvellous than your prototype; for, not merely with pebbles or -crumbs of bread do you mark the roads along which you travel, but -actually with jewels and precious stones. I shall always recognise the -spot where you dropped an enormous ruby as big as a flint, yesterday, -with as much indifference as if it had been a piece of grit from -Fontainebleau. - -What do you suppose must happen to an insignificant creature like myself -in the presence of so much wealth, in the midst of the enchantments of -your mind? Will she lose her reason? That is already done. As to her -heart, you stole it from her very easily, and therefore nothing remains -to the poor wight but what is already yours. - -Her love, her admiration, her life, belong to you! My glances, words, -caresses, kisses, all, are yours! - -JULIETTE. - - -(1835.) - -It seems to be always my turn to write to you now. In the old days your -letters called forth my letters, your love mine--and it was meet that it -should be so, for, as you have often said, the man should be the pursuer -of the woman. It is always awkward when a change of _roles_ occurs, and -I am acutely conscious of it. I feel that a caress from you gives me far -more happiness and security than thousands of those elicited by me. - -It is already half-past eleven and you have not arrived. Perhaps you are -not coming, and the prohibition you laid upon me yesterday against -seeking you at the printing works redoubles my anxiety and jealousy. I -fear lest some untoward thing may have befallen you, or, worse still, -some agreeable invitation reached you. My heart is crushed as in a vice; -I think there is no greater suffering in this world than that of loving -yet fearing. We arrange our lives very badly. Since you are not a free -agent, and may be prevented from seeing me by thousands of circumstances -we cannot foresee, you should at least allow me the opportunity of -knowing what you are doing and where you are. It would satisfy me and -keep me content. Instead of this, I have to wait for you, a prey to -fears that tear at my heartstrings. Alas, I am to be pitied for loving -you so intensely. It is a superabundance that will surely kill the body -which bears it. - -If you love me only moderately, I pray God to deprive me of one of two -things: either my life, or my love. - -JULIETTE. - -Nearly midnight. What a night I have before me! God pity me! - - -AT METZ, -_September 17th, Thursday, 8.15 a.m., 1835._ - -Good-morning, my Toto, good morning. It is magnificently fine, and we -are going to be enormously happy. We are about to resume our bird-life, -our life of love and freedom in the woods. I am enchanted. If only you -were here, I should kiss you with all my might and main, as a reminder. - -What sort of a night did you have? Did you love me? Have you been -writing to me under the old chestnut-tree? I am sure you have not. You -scamp, I am afraid I go on loving you in proportion to the decrease of -your affection. - -I was not able to read last night. I went to bed at a quarter past ten, -and had horrid dreams. I trust they will not come true, but I confess I -should be glad to get news of my poor little girl, whom we neglect far -too much. If two more days go by without a letter, I shall write to -Saumur, for I am really worried about her. - -My dear little Toto, I am going to dress now, so as to get to you -earlier. I love you, I love you with all my strength and all my soul. I -kiss you! I adore you! Till this afternoon. - -Your JULIETTE. - - -AT METZ, -_September 24th, Thursday, 8.45 a.m._ - -Good-morning, my darling Victor. I love you and am happy, for we are -going to be more absolutely together than was possible yesterday, or the -day before, when an inconvenient third disturbed our privacy. Also the -weather is glorious, and I am madly in love with you; so everything -around me glows radiant and beautiful. - -I stayed in bed until 8.30, although I woke up at seven o'clock; but I -just rolled lazily about, thinking of you, and reading yesterday's -newspapers. I reached home exactly at seven o'clock last night, -undressed, tidied my things, dined, wrote to you, did my accounts, and -read _Claude Gueux_ till half-past ten. Then I put my hair into -curl-papers, and got into bed at eleven o'clock. I went to you in -spirit, and dreamt that I was kissing Baby Toto, and making big Toto -jealous. This is the complete history of my morning up to date; now I -shall dress, breakfast, and go for a walk in the meadows with the maid. -Farewell, dearest, until this afternoon's happiness. Always yours in -love and longing. - -I love you with all my heart, I embrace you in spirit, I adore you with -my whole soul, I admire you with every faculty of my mind. Think of me, -come to me, come to me as soon as possible. My arms, my cheek, my whole -being, await you. - -J. - - -AT METZ, -_Thursday, 8.45 p.m._ - -MY DEAR, GOOD TOTO, - -I should have got back without adventure, had I not met an enormous and -horrific toad in the road, which sent me flying home, shrieking as if -the devil was at my heels. I was here by ten minutes past seven, began -my dinner at five minutes past eight, and am now sitting writing to you, -to thank you for all the bliss you lavish upon me. This day, drenched -with rain though it was, has been one of the most beautiful and happiest -of my whole life. If there had been rainbows in the sky, they would be -reflected in our hearts, linking our souls together in thought and -emotion. - -I thank you for drawing my attention to so many lovely things I should -never notice without your assistance and the touch of your dear white -hand upon my brow; but there is one beauty greater and nobler than all -the combined ones of heaven and earth, for the recognition of which I -require no help--and that is yourself, my best beloved, your personality -that I adore, your intellect that enchants and dazzles me. Would that I -possessed the pen of a poet, to describe all I think and feel! But, -alas, I am only a poor woman in love, and such a condition is not -conducive to brilliancy of expression! - -Good-night, my adored one; good-night, my darling. Sleep well. I send -you a thousand kisses. - -J. - - -METZ, -_Monday, 11.5 a.m., September 24th, 1835._ - -Great indeed was our misfortune yesterday! I agree with you in that, my -Victor, because I love you. For over a year I have suffered much; -oftener than not, without complaint. I always trusted that my love and -fidelity would engender in you feelings of esteem and confidence, but -now that hope is for ever at an end; for, far from diminishing, your -suspicion and contempt have grown to terrible dimensions. You love me, I -know, and I worship you with all the strength of my being. _You are the -only man I have ever loved, the only one to whom I have ever given this -assurance._ Yet I now implore you on my knees to let me go. I cannot -urge this too strongly. You see, my dear, I am so wretched, so -humiliated, and I suffer so acutely, that I shall have to leave you, -even against your will; so it would be kinder of you to give your -consent, that I may at least have the sad satisfaction, if I must -forsake you, of knowing that I have not disobeyed you. - -Farewell, my joy; farewell, my life; farewell, my soul! I leave you, -for the very sake of our love--I offer this sacrifice on behalf of us -both. Later, you will understand. But before bidding you a last -good-bye, I swear to you that, during the last year, I have not -committed one single action I need blush for, nor harboured one guilty -thought. I tell you this from the bottom of my heart. You may believe -it. - -I shall go to my child, for I am anxious about her since she has been at -Saumur. Perhaps I may bring her back with me. I think I was very wrong -to send her away. I mean to repair my fault if there is yet time. The -pretext of her health will be sufficient before the world. My heart -shall be dumb upon all that concerns you. I will keep everything to -myself. I must get work. If you can do anything to help me find some, it -will be good of you. I mention this for the first and last time, for, if -you were to forget me, you know very well that I should be the last to -venture to recall myself to you. - -Good-bye again, my friend; good-bye, for ever! I have been copying your -little book, hoping you would be generous enough to leave it with me. -Good-bye! good-bye! Do not suffer, do not weep, do not think, do not -accuse yourself! I love and forgive you. - -JULIETTE. - - -METZ, -_Saturday, 7.30 p.m. (October 1835)._ - -You were in a great hurry to leave me to-night, my best-beloved. If -consideration for me was your motive, it was high-handed and blundering -of you, for I never enjoyed myself more than this evening, and, until -the moment you left me so abruptly, I had never so savoured the -happiness of being with you in the highways and byways. - -I therefore returned home sadly and thoughtfully. I have begun my letter -to-night with diminished joy and confidence in the future, for your -hurry to leave me weighs upon me, and I cannot explain it satisfactorily -to myself. - -I came in at a quarter past six, suffering greatly from indigestion. The -maid told me some one had called for the dog--two gentlemen, who seemed -much attached to it. Poor brute, it was a wrong instinct that led it to -follow us. I have no doubt it is expiating its offence in hunger and -cold at this very moment. I am somehow unduly interested in the fate of -the poor thing. I feel something beyond ordinary pity for it; it makes -me think of the fate and future in store for a poor girl we both know. -She also follows step by step a master who will have no scruple in -casting her adrift when his duty to society proves as pressing and -sacred as that which called him away to-night. - -I am depressed, my dear friend, and unwell. The oppression on my chest -is increasing. I hope your sore throat will diminish in proportion to -what I am enduring. Providence is too just to allow such cumulation of -suffering. Good-night--sleep well and think of me if you can. As for -loving me, that is another question; one's emotions cannot grow to -order. I love you. - -J. - -_Sunday, 8 p.m., 1835._ - -My dear darling, I cannot describe to you the rapture with which I -listened to the two sublime poems you recited to me, one on the first -Revolution and the other on the two Napoleons. - -But where can your equal be found on earth!... My dear little Toto, do -not laugh at me. I feel so many things I cannot express, much less -write. I love and revere you, and when I reflect upon what you are, I -marvel! Since you left me, I have read again _Napoleon the Second_. I -shall never tire of it. It is going to bed with me now. - -You told me to wait for you till 9.30; after that hour I shall go to -bed. If you should happen to come later, I will open the door to you -myself, as you have forgotten the key. I want to do so, that I may not -lose one second of the happiness of having you with me. Sleep -well--good-night--do not suffer--do not work--sleep! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 8.30 p.m., 1835._ - -I am half afraid of taking too literally your request for a daily -letter. Tell me seriously how I am to interpret it, so that I may not -make myself ridiculous, by overwhelming you with letters you do not -want. Tell me the truth once for all, so that I may know where I am, and -may give myself up without restraint to the pleasure of telling you, and -writing to you, that I love you with all my heart, and that you alone -constitute my sole joy, my sole happiness, and my sole future. If you -can experience only one quarter of the bliss in reading, that I shall -feel in inditing my scribble, you shall receive some of my prose every -day, but in limited quantities, calculated not to wear out your -patience. - -And, in order to demonstrate my powers of self-restraint, I will limit -myself to six trillions of kisses for your beautiful mouth. Besides, -here you come! I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 8 p.m., December 2nd, 1835._ - -MY BELOVED, - -When one is ill and feverish, everything tastes bitter to the lips and -palate. I am in that position. I am abominably miserable, and all the -sweet words you lavish upon me seem tainted. But I have enough sense -left to realise that it is my condition that prevents me from relishing -the full meed of happiness you are able to give me in one moment. -Forgive me for suffering, and for not having the strength or generosity -to conceal it from you; it is only because I suffer too much, and love -you too much, which is the same thing. - -I promise to be very cheerful to-night, and to disguise my feelings. I -have read everything concerning you in the papers, and I cannot help -suspecting that a passage about you and your work has been purposely cut -out. If this is so, you had much better tell me, for I am quite equal to -bearing the truth, and even to hearing lies; so I beg you to tell me -what was in that newspaper, and thus spare me the trouble of procuring -another copy. You must indeed be happy and proud on behalf of the person -to whom you are supposed to have dedicated your sublime poem. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO.] - -The article by Monsieur F. Dugue seems singularly well-informed about -your restoration to the _domestic hearth_. I am apparently not the only -one who notices that for the last year you have been changing your -habits and feelings, though I am probably the only one who will die of -grief in consequence--but what matter, so long as the domestic hearth -remains _cheerful_ and the _family_, _happy_. - -I hope you will do your best to come and see me to-morrow, during the -intervals of the performance unless the salutations you have to make, -and the compliments and admiration you must acknowledge should detain -you against your will; in which case I hope I may be brave enough not to -worry about such a trifle, and reasonable enough not to let the -magnitude of my love depend upon so slight a pleasure. - -You see, my dear angel, I bow to the arguments you impress on me. I am -no longer sad, neither do I suffer. I love you; that is the truest word -of all. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 8.45 p.m., December 15th, 1835._ - -Of course, my darling, you did right to come back, whatever your reason -might be; but the pleasure of your visit was quite spoilt by your -inquiry as to how I spend my time, when it is self-evident that my -conduct is irreproachable. - -It may surprise you that I should have borne the inquisition you -habitually subject me to, with less equanimity to-day than usual. I own, -my poor angel, that I do not know why it should be so. Perhaps I am like -the cripple, who feels pain in the leg which has been cut off, long -after he has lost it. I often suffer over my past life, though the -present is so widely different. I suffer, not from variations of -temperature, but from the variations of your love, which seems to grow -daily colder and more gloomy. If I am mistaken, forgive and pity me; but -if, as I fear, I make no error, tell me so frankly, and I shall be -grateful for your sincerity. You see, my poor friend, I cannot believe -that your jealousy is other than an insulting mistrust of us both. I -have watched you carefully for the last six months, and I can see quite -well that, although your love is gradually waning, your supervision -becomes ever more active and more fidgety. If I were absolutely sure of -what I suspect, I should not say this to you--I should go away at once, -and you would never hear of me again; but if by chance I were wrong, and -you still care for me, such a course would entail frightful sorrow upon -us both. Therefore I remain, preferring to incur your hatred and -contempt, rather than run the risk of grieving you. - -There, my poor angel, is the attitude of mind and heart in which you -found me this evening; it will explain why I received your question so -badly, although I was grateful for your presence. You see, my head and -heart are weary. If you are not careful, some calamity, resulting from -this condition, will overtake and crush you, at a moment when neither -you nor I will be able to prevent it. I give you this warning in all -sincerity, but with the intimate conviction that it will not affect you. -As long as you feel I belong to you wholly and entirely, you are as -indifferent to my sufferings as to my happiness. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 8.30, February 3rd, 1836._ - -If I have grieved you, my beloved, I beg you to forgive me, for I know -your position is awkward and demands much consideration, especially from -me. Besides, why should I complain of my mode of life more to-day, than -yesterday? I accept my position without regret; therefore there is no -reason for questioning an arrangement which only you can alter. - -I cannot help noticing that your love is not what it was. I may say I am -sure of it, if I may judge by the impatient words you occasionally -utter, half against your will, and by other signs it would take too long -to commit to paper. I certainly possess a _devoted_ Victor, but no -longer the _lover_ Victor of former days. If it is as I fear, it becomes -your duty to leave me at once; for I have never wished to live with you -otherwise than as an adored mistress--certainly not as a woman dependent -upon a man whose passion is spent. I want no pension. I demand my place -in your heart, apart from any feeling of duty or gratitude. That is what -I desire, as earnestly as I long to be a faithful woman, submissive to -your every whim, whether just or unjust. - -If I have hurt your feelings, my dearly beloved, I plead for pardon from -the bottom of my heart. If you have to acknowledge a decrease in your -love, be brave enough to do so frankly, and do not leave to me the -frightful task of guessing it; but if you care for me as much as ever, -say it again and again, for I doubt it, alas, and, in love, doubt is -more painful a thousand times than the most heartbreaking certainty. -Farewell, I worship you. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 8.15 p.m., February 17th, 1836._ - -You must think me either very cruel or very blind, my beloved. I think, -perhaps, it would be best for you to accept the latter hypothesis. I -love you, which means that I am jealous; but, as my jealousy is in -proportion to my love, my doubts and frenzy are more vivid, more bitter, -than those of ordinary women, who are only capable of an ordinary -affection. Very well--I am cruel! So be it! I detest every woman upon -whom your glances rest. I feel capable of hating all women, young or -old, plain or handsome, if I suspect that they have dared raise their -eyes to your splendid and noble features. I am jealous of the very -pavement upon which you tread, and the air you breathe. The stars and -sun alone are beyond my jealousy, because their radiance can be eclipsed -by one single flash from your eyes. - -I love you as the lioness loves her mate. I love you as a passionate -woman, ready to yield up her life at your slightest gesture. I love you -with the soul and intelligence God has lent His creatures to enable them -to appreciate exceptional men like yourself. That is why, my glorious -Victor, at one and the same moment, I can rage, weep, crawl, or stand -erect; I bow my head and venerate you! - -There are days when one can fix one's gaze upon the sun itself without -being blinded: thus it is with me now. I see you, I am dazzled, -entranced, and I grasp your beauty in all its splendour. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8 p.m., August 15th, 1836._ - -Since you leave me here all by myself, my beloved, I shall think only of -you, and in proof of this, I will scribble all over this virgin sheet -of white paper. It is barbarous of you to let me grow fatter than I -already am, by leaving me to dawdle at my fireside, instead of taking me -out to walk and get thin. - -I am in love with you, but you do not care a bit. I am very sad not to -have you with me, doubly so, when I think that it is on account of a -play in which I am to have no part, after all the time I have waited and -endured. When I reflect seriously upon this, my despair makes me long to -fly to the uttermost ends of the world. It is so necessary that I should -think of my future. I have wasted so much time waiting, that it almost -spells ruin to me that you should produce a piece in which I may not -play. You see, my dearest, I am not as generous as you thought. I am -afraid I can no longer disguise from you the injury it does me to be -three years out of the theatrical world, while you are bringing out -plays. Forgive me, but I have a horror of poverty, and would do anything -in reason to evade it. I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 8.30 p.m., March 11th, 1836._ - -DEAR LITTLE SOUL, - -You are quite happy, I hope, now that you possess the keys of Paradise. -I had a few more difficulties to encounter after you went away, but they -were of no consequence. Now that our little palace is nearly finished, -my soul, I hope we shall celebrate the event in the usual way; but I -must first rest a little, and nurse myself up, for I am really quite -worn out with the dirt and litter. I am afraid to look at you or touch -you in your beauty and purity and charm, while I am so ugly and untidy -and exhausted that I hardly know myself as your Juju. But it will not -last. My foulness will fall from me, and reveal me dressed, as in the -fairy-tale, in garments of blue, bordered with golden stars, and a -prince will marry me after tasting of my cooking. Splendid! But -meanwhile you must graciously permit me to go on loving you, stains and -all! Shut your eyes to the common lamp that guards the flame. If you -will wait, you shall see that when we reach the heaven above us, I shall -be as resplendent as yourself. Meanwhile, I drop a kiss upon your shoes, -even if it entails your having them blacked again. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 7.45 p.m., March 23rd, 1836._ - -No doubt, dear angel, I ought to disguise in your presence the sadness -that overwhelms me when I have to wait too long for you; but the late -hour at which you generally come, makes it difficult for me to forget -the weary suspense I have already been through, and am to endure again -shortly. I love you, my dear--indeed, I love you too much. We often say -this lightly, but I assure you that this time I state it in full gravity -and knowledge, for I feel it to the very marrow of my bones. I love you. -I am jealous. I hate being poor and devoid of talent, for I fear that -these deficiencies will cost me your love. Still, I am conscious of -something within me, greater than either wealth or intellect; but is it -powerful enough to rivet you to me for ever? I ask myself this question -night and day, and you are not at hand to soothe my unrest; hence the -sadness that wounds you, the jealousy that amazes you, the mental -torment you are incapable of understanding. - -But I love you all the same, and am happy in the midst of my pain. I -smile through my tears, for I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 a.m., March 26th, 1836._ - -Good-morning, my little darling Toto. - -I am up at cock-crow, though very tired; but I want to be ready to -witness your new triumph--for, beloved Toto of mine, you are the _great_ -Toto, the greatest man on earth. - -How I love you, my Victor! I am jealous. Even your success makes me -uneasy with the dread that, amongst so much adulation, you may overlook -the humble homage of your poor Juju. I fear that these universal -acclamations may drown my lowly cry of--_I love you!_ This apprehension -becomes an obsession on such a day as this, when everything is at your -feet, caresses, adoration, frenzy. Ah, why are you not insignificant and -unknown like myself! I should then have no need to fear that the torch -of my love will be eclipsed by that immense illumination. - -Try, beloved, to keep a little place in your heart for the love and -admiration of your poor mistress, who has loved you from the day she -first set eyes upon you, and who will worship you as long as the breath -remains in her body. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 6.15 p.m., March 26th, 1836._ - -Let me tell you once again that I love you, my Victor. Presently, -thousands of voices will be raised in a chorus of _praise_. I alone -say: I _love_ you. You are my joy, the light of my eyes, the treasure of -my life, you are _YOU_. This evening, my adored one, whatever you say or -do, I must be jealous and wretched. Be merciful to me; do not let me -suffer too cruelly. If you think of me when you are absent, I shall be -conscious of it--if you love me, I shall feel it upon my heart like -beneficent balm upon a raw wound. - -Farewell, dear soul; _it is impossible to wish an increase of beauty to -the man, or more glory to the genius; so, if you are happy, so am I_. -Farewell, then, dearest; I cannot refrain from sending a word of love to -the lover, before going to applaud the poet. The heart must have its due -share. - -Good-bye till later. For ever, for life and until death, love, nothing -but love! - -J. - - -Sunday, 7.45 p.m., March 27th, 1836. - -I hardly dare speak to you to-night of love. I feel humiliated by my -devotion, for all those women seem to be rivals, preferred before me. I -suffer, but I do not hold you responsible. I feel worse even than usual -this evening. I did not venture to ask what you had written to Madame -Dorval, for I was afraid to discover some fresh reason for bitterness -and jealousy; so I remained silent. - -My dear treasure, you are very lucky not to be jealous: you have no -competition to fear with any other celebrity, for there is none besides -yourself, and _you_ know that I love you with my whole heart, whereas -all _I_ can be sure of is, that I love you far too much to hope to be -loved in proportion. In addition, I feel I shall never be capable of -raising the heavy stone under which my intellect slumbers. - -Forgive me, I am sad. I am worse than sad--I am ashamed, because I am -jealous. I am an idiot, and consequently, I am in love! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8.30 p.m., April 14th, 1836._ - -I love you, my dear Victor, and you make me very unhappy when you seem -to doubt it. It is still harder for me when you put your want of -confidence into words, for I can only attribute it to the sacrifices you -constantly make for me, and which probably cause you to think that an -ignoble motive constrains me to remain under your protection. In -addition to thus wounding me in the most sensitive part of my love, you -exasperate me to a point I cannot describe, because it is true that I -have not the wherewithal to live independently of you and your -influence. Therefore, my poor angel, when you show your suspicions of my -sincerity, I read into them more than jealousy and ill-will: I imagine a -reproach against my dependent position. I feel an overwhelming need to -prove to you, by any means, that you are mistaken in the woman and her -love. _Remember your burnt letters!_ You know what a doubt on your part -led me to do on one occasion. Well, angel, I tell you honestly that when -you question, not only my fidelity, but also my love, I long to fly to -the other side of the world, there to exist as best I can, and never -pronounce your name again for the rest of my life. This will be the last -proof of love I can give you, and at least you will not be able to -accuse me, then, of self-interest and self-love. You hurt me terribly -to-night; you often do, and generally when I am most tender and -demonstrative towards you. - -Yet I love you. - -J. - - -_Tuesday, 8 p.m., April 19th, 1836._ - -Beloved, I am perfectly certain you will not come to fetch me to see -_Lucrece_, and I am already resigned. There is only one thing I shall -never submit to, and that is, the loss of your love. I know you are -devoted, that you lavish friendship upon me; but I feel that you have no -more love to give me, and I cannot bear it. During the four months I -have been alone, ill for the most part, I never knew whether the time -would come when you would be impelled to say to me: _Take courage, for I -love you_. I would have given life to find those words in your -handwriting at my bedside in the morning, or on my pillow at night. I -waited in vain, they never came; my sorrow grew, and now I am certain -that you have ceased to care for me. - -I know what you will say, Victor--you will tell me that you are hard at -work, that you do everything for me, and do not let me want for -anything. To that I reply that I have been just as busy or busier than -you, yet have always found time to show you the outward signs of my -inward love. I may also tell you that, without your love, I _do_ want -for _everything_, and that my life is utterly wretched without it. -Lastly, I declare to you that if you continue to be so _reasonably_ kind -and attentive, I will release you from your self-imposed burden, at some -moment when you least expect it, and for evermore. I must have true -love or nothing. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 7.45 p.m., May 2nd, 1836._ - -MY DEAR LITTLE BELOVED, - -I am sorry to find that you are not as convinced as I am, of the -propriety of giving me your portrait. - -I confess I feel the greatest disappointment when I realise, from your -daily evasion of my request, that I shall probably never become the -possessor of the picture which is so like you, nor even, perhaps, of a -copy of the original. I am sad and dejected. I think you do not care -enough for me, a poor disinherited creature, to do me the favour you -have already bestowed upon another, who already has her full meed of the -gifts of life. I am therefore greatly disappointed. I had counted upon -having the portrait, and had anticipated much happiness from its -possession. The contemplation of it would have so greatly contributed to -my courage and resignation, that it is very grievous to have to renounce -it thus suddenly, without any compensation. - -If I wanted to speak of other things now, I could not; my heart is -heavy, my eyes overflow with tears. I can only find bitter words for the -expression of my wounded love. - -I love you more to-day than I have ever done before, yet I am not happy. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 7.45 a.m., May 20th, 1836._ - -GOOD MORNING, MY DEAR LITTLE TOTO. - -You failed me again last night, so I shall never count upon you again. I -loved you with all my strength, and thought of you even in my sleep. -This morning I love you with my whole soul, and heartily long for you, -but I know you will not come, so I am cross and sad. - -How fine the weather is, my Toto, and how happy we could be in the fresh -air, on the high road, in a nice little carriage, with a month of -happiness in prospect: it would be Paradise, but ... but ... I dare not -set my heart upon it, for I should go crazy with grief if the treat were -withheld. At all events, I am ready to start; my foot is well again, and -we can set off to-night, or to-morrow morning, at whatever time suits -you. I am quite ready, let us, therefore, seize our chance of the fine -weather. - -My adored one, I am dying to make this expedition.... Do try to get free -at the earliest moment possible. I shall be so happy. I still love you, -ever so much. I need you terribly. My heart is more than ready for the -happiness you will give me during the whole time we shall be together. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 12.45 p.m., July 21st, 1836._ - -Once more I am reduced to writing all that is in my heart, my adored -one. It is but a slender satisfaction after the bliss we have been -enjoying. Nevertheless, we must take life as we find it, and it would be -ungracious of me to complain. A month like the one we have just spent -would compensate for a whole life-time of misfortune and worry. Poor -angel, since you left me I feel lost and alone in the world. You cannot -imagine the utter void, surrounded as you are at this moment by the -affection of charming children and devoted friends, while I am alone -with my love--that is to say alone in space--for my love has no limits. -I seek what consolation I can, by speaking to you, and writing to you. -Your handkerchief, breathing of you, lies by my side, with your adored -name embroidered in the corner. I caress and talk to it, and we -understand each other perfectly. For every kiss I press upon it, it -exhales your sweet aroma; it is as if I scented your very soul. Then I -weep, as one does in a beautiful dream from which one fears to awake. -Heavens, how I love you! You are my life, my joy! I adore you! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 2.15 p.m., September 2nd, 1836._ - -My poor, beloved angel. The nearer the moment approaches, the more I -dread the inevitable parting which must follow the few days of happiness -you have just given me. I long for delay, but I know very well that, -however Providence may interpose in my favour, the day must come when -you will have to go to St. Prix. Lucky for me if it is not to-day. But, -putting aside all considerations of love and Juju, it would really not -be prudent for you to go to the country in this cold, foggy weather; -even this morning, in the warmth and repose of home, you felt a warning -twinge of rheumatism, which prescribes prudence on your part. I fear -your natural desire to kiss Toto on his donkey, and watch the other -little rogues at their holiday occupations, may draw you, in spite of -rain, wind, and the good counsel of your old Juju, to St. Prix. At any -rate, if you do this foolish thing, try to avoid chills, to think of me, -and to come back to my care and caresses as quickly as possible. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 6 p.m., 29th, 1836._ - -You torment me unjustly, as usual, my darling beloved. Yet you ought to -begin to know me, and not suspect my every action, down to the drinking -of a cup of coffee. The awkwardness of my position, the absolute -solitude in which I am compelled to live, and the many insults I have to -tolerate daily from you, exasperate me so, that I feel I would rather go -out of your life, than continue to exist like a woman condemned and -accursed. - -It is your fault that I am so unhappy. Nobody else will ever love you so -well, or be so entirely devoted to you. But one is not bound to put up -with impossibilities, and I cannot live longer under a yoke which you -make more crushing every day. What am I to do, beloved? Run away from -you? I have scarcely enough money for my quiet Paris _routine_. Remain -here? If you have not the courage to abstain from visiting me, I -certainly shall never have enough to prevent you from coming. - -The wound in my heart is raw and bleeding, thanks to the care you take -to keep it in that condition. The slightest additional twinge becomes -unbearable torture. I do not know what moral operation I would not -consent to, to be cured of it. - -For the last three years you have really given me too much pain. I -implore you, from the bottom of my heart, to be less offensive with me, -or else to leave me for good and all. You may guess from this what I am -enduring. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 2 p.m., January 1st, 1837._ - -Your darling, adorable letter has reached me. I have devoured it with -caresses. Oh, how I love you! I have just sent my child out of the room, -so that I might read it on my knees in front of your picture. These -little pranks may seem foolish, but they contain a deeper, more sacred -significance, like the devotion that inspires them. - -When you come, you will find me joyous and radiant, as I was on that -glorious day when you first revealed your love. My beloved, my heart, I -am very happy. I am in heaven, for you love me, my Toto ... your dear -letter has said it. Your eyes, your mouth, your soul, will tell me so -still better, presently. Yes, indeed I am happy, I am surfeited. There -is nothing left for me to desire or require--I have your love, a love -which God Himself might envy were He a _woman_. - -Thank you, adored one, thank you from my heart and soul. I am as good as -gold, believe me. - -JUJU. - - -_Tuesday, 7.30 p.m., February 21st, 1837._ - -Do not grieve, my precious, do not lament. I will not attempt -consolation, for you have better and more efficacious resources within -your own self; but I share your affliction. Whatever saddens you -saddens me: where you love, I love; when you mourn, I mourn. If I -conjure you not to give way to your grief, it is not because I hesitate -to bear my portion of it, but because I believe that your poor brother -himself would not now desire a return to this life.[65] I look upon his -death more as a blessing than a misfortune. Poor brother! - -I love you, my adored Victor. In moments such as these, when sorrow -brings you nearer to my level, I feel that my affection for you is -absolutely true and purified from all dross. Try to come early this -evening. I will lavish caresses upon you silently, with my eyes and my -innermost self, without worrying you. You shall rest by my fireside, and -lean your dear head upon my shoulder, and read, and I shall be glad. - -I am jealous of that woman who has dared to _steal_ your verses; such -things are not _lost_. It was a two-fold wickedness on her part, for she -caused _you_ the trouble of rewriting them, and _me_ the torment of -jealousy. I will not have you see her again, ever! Do you hear? - -Oh, I love you, I love you far too much. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 7.15 p.m., April 2nd, 1837._ - -[Illustration: CARICATURE OF MLLE. GEORGE, BY VICTOR HUGO. - -Victor Hugo Museum.] - -[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF VICTOR HUGO BY HIMSELF.] - -I have decided to get up, after all, thanks to the laundry-man; but for -him, I should have remained in bed, nursing my depression. I am sad -beyond everything, yet I cannot tell why--you are kind and affectionate, -and I love you with my whole soul; but that does not seem enough. -Esteem, the keystone of happiness, is lacking. I have worn myself out in -the endeavour to gain it during the last four years, yet it cometh not, -nor ever will come, now. I must turn my efforts in another direction. I -must try to break with you, tactfully, as you say, by quitting Paris, -and perhaps France. Will that be sufficient to stop the tongue of -scandal? I wish to leave you before you abandon me, because I do not -admit your right to inflict such a fearful blow upon me. There are -people, capable of committing suicide, who yet recoil at the thought of -being murdered--I am one. I can and will kill myself, but I shrink from -the injury you might possibly inflict upon me before long. My courage -does not outstrip your cruelty. I love you too much for happiness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 10.15 a.m., May 2nd, 1837._ - -Good morning, my well-beloved. Did you have a good night? You looked -overstrained and tired yesterday, and indeed there was enough to make -you so, you poor dear. I do not know how you can put up with it all. -Forgive me for adding to your burthen the exactions of a woman who -loves, and fears to recognise in lassitude an evidence of coldness. -Forgive me; if I did not occasionally doubt your love I should torment -you less, and would show more consideration for your occupations and -repose. - -You hurt me very much last night by speaking as you did, yet I wanted to -know your true opinion of me. I have long been tormented by a mournful -curiosity on that point. Last night you satisfied it in full. I know -now that you pity without despising me. I accept your compassion, for I -need it, and ought to have it; but I should indignantly repudiate a -contempt I do not deserve. My past history is sad, but not disgraceful. -My life until I met you was the melancholy outcome of a poor girl's -first fault; but at least it was never soiled by those hideous vices -that deface the soul still more than the body. Even at the worst moments -of my trouble, I cherished within me an inner sanctuary, whither I could -betake myself, as to some hallowed spot. Since then, that sanctuary has -been open to you only, and you can testify whether you have found it -worthy of you; you know whether, since you have occupied its throne and -altar, I have ever failed, one single day or minute, to prostrate myself -on my knees before you in adoration, or have ever turned my gaze or my -soul away from you. This proves, my beloved, that my former backsliding -was only superficial, not inherently vicious; that my wound was -accidental, not a loathsome, devouring canker; that I love you now, and -am thereby made whole. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 10.45 a.m., May 2nd, 1837._ - -I am following up my letter immediately with another, because I am -alone, and the moment is propitious for me to open my heart to you from -the very bottom. Racket and pleasure are a hindrance to meditation, and -at this moment I am rapt in contemplation of you and your beloved image. -I see you as you are, that is to say, a God-made man to redeem and -rescue me from the infamous life to which I had so long been enslaved. -What Christ did for the world you have done for me: like Him, you saved -my soul at the expense of your repose and life. May you be as blessed -for this generous action as you are adored by me for it. I should have -loved you, devil or angel, bad or good, selfish or devoted, cruel or -generous--I must have loved you, for at the mere sight of you my whole -being cries out: _I love you!_ Would that I might proclaim it on my -knees, with hands clasped and heart on lips: _I love you! I love you!_ -The talk we had last night kept me from sleeping, but I do not complain; -there are moments when sleep is a misfortune. I needed to rehearse one -by one all your words, to collect carefully those which must remain for -ever enshrined in my bosom as treasures of consolation and love; the -less generous ones you uttered, I have consumed in the flame of my soul; -nothing remains of them but ashes, dead as the ashes of my past. - -Do not turn away in disgust from the scratches I have sustained in -falling from my pedestal, as you might from hideous and incurable -wounds. I repeat again, my beloved, because it is the truth: misfortune -there has been in my life, but neither debauchery nor moral turpitude. -Henceforth there can be nothing but a sacred, pure love for you. I am -worthy of pardon and affection. Love me; I crave it of you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 11.15 a.m., May 11th, 1837._ - -Good morning, my dear little man; I have bad weather to announce: rain, -snow, hail, wind, and, in addition, an abominable cold in my head which -does not help to resign me to a day already filled with clouds. I love -you--do you know that? and I admire you for your beautiful soul. It is -splendid of you, my great Toto, to have raised your voice so powerfully -in defence of the poor, dead King.[66] You alone had the right, for you -only are above suspicion; you only are influential enough to compel the -impious, pitiless world to listen to your indulgent and religious voice. -If it were possible for me to love you more, I should do so for this; -but from the first day I saw you I have given my whole heart and -thoughts and soul unreservedly into your keeping. - -How I love you, my adored Victor, how I love you! In that short and -much-misused word is contained all my soul, all the bloom of a devotion -that has opened out under the sun of your gaze. Good-bye, my own. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 8.30 p.m., June 2nd, 1837._ - -MY LITTLE MAN, - -You must make up your mind to take my love or leave it. Compare my life -with yours, and see whether I do not deserve that you should pity and -love me with all your might. I am all alone, I have neither family nor -fame, nor the thousand and one distractions that surround you. As I say, -I am alone, always alone; it even seems probable that I shall not see -you to-night, while you will be spending your evening in feasting, -talking, and visiting your uncle, whom may the devil fly away with. -Everybody can get you except me; the exception is flattering and well -chosen. I am so unhappy that I am going to bed and shall probably cry my -eyes out--I am more inclined for that than for laughing. If you succeed -in cheering me up to-night, I shall know you for a great man, and a -still greater sorcerer; but you will not attempt it. I may be as sad and -miserable as I like, and I am certain you will never interfere. - -Good-night, Toto; I am going to bed. Good-night, be happy and gay and -content; your poor Juju will be unhappy enough for both. I love you, -Toto. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 1.30 p.m., June 10th._ - -I love you before all things, and after all things. I love you, love -you, love you! I have just written to Mother Pierceau that I shall send -Suzanne to her to-morrow. I forgot to ask you exactly how much money you -brought me yesterday, and also for cash, for yesterday's expenses. I -will do so to-night. I try hard to keep my accounts accurately, yet I am -always in a muddle at the end of the month, and always either above or -below what I ought to have. I do my best, but nothing seems to bring my -sums out right. - -I think there is going to be a big storm. The sky is lowering like -yesterday, and the weather still more oppressive. Try not to get wet, -and come and fetch your umbrella before it begins to pour. - -What a delightful afternoon we spent yesterday! I wish we could have it -over again, even if we had to be soaked to the skin. I shall never -forget the Bassin du Titan.[67] The pretty turtledove that came to -slake its thirst in it seemed to recognise us, and wait for its drink, -until you scattered drops of poetry into the mossy, flowery grooves, -surrounding its edges. - -Heavens! what precious pearls you squandered yesterday in that -magnificent garden, at the feet of those peerless goddesses, which seem -to come to life when your glance rests upon them--what flowers upon -those lawns, peopled with joyous children! How all those gods and -goddesses, heroes, kings, queens, women, nymphs, and children, must have -quarrelled over the treasure you lavished upon them! I was sorry to go -away. I should have liked to go back in the moonlight and gather up all -those jewels upon which you set so little store. Oh, I must return there -very soon, and we will at the same time revisit our Metz, where we have -enjoyed so much bliss. That journey will bring us happiness, and I long -to make it. I love you, my great Toto. Forgive this scribble; it looks -absurd now, and indeed it must needs be so, for I was inebriated with -love when I wrote it. My thoughts stagger and fall upon the paper, -because they have drunk too deeply of my soul, and know not where they -are. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 3.45 p.m., July 27th, 1837._ - -I must contribute my scribble in acknowledgment for the delightful lines -you have just written in my little book.[68] My voice will sound like -the cackle of a hen after the song of a nightingale; but that is the law -of nature, so I do not see why I should be silent, because I have heard -you. It was rash of you, my dear little man, to put down the date you -suppose was that of my birth; but, as I am too honest to contradict you, -I accept it and affirm that, since those days when you were a little boy -studying _Quintus Curtius_, you have developed, and far outstripped all -those you revered and admired when you were an urchin of seven--while I -have remained the poor, uncultured girl you know. It is pretty certain -that education could have added but little to my barren nature; the -weeds of the sea-shore do not gain much from cultivation. On that point, -thank Heaven, I have nothing to complain of. No one worried much about -me until you appeared upon the scene; but you came, my great and sublime -poet, and you did not disdain to cull the little scentless flower -prinking itself at your feet, to attract the sunshine of your glance. I -bless you for your goodness. I know that a father and mother look down -upon you from the realms above, and love you for the happiness you have -given to the poor little daughter they left solitary on earth. I weep as -I write, for it is the first time I have really looked into my innocent -past, and my loving heart. I bless you, my generous man, on earth, as -you will be blest in heaven. May all those dear to you participate in -this benediction, and in the joys and riches of this world and the next! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 9 a.m., September 21st, 1837._ - -GOOD MORNING, MY BELOVED. - -The anniversary of our return to Paris has been sadder still than the -day itself, since you have not been with me at all, either last night -or this morning. I am upset in consequence. I have not yet taken off my -nightcap. I am cross. Shall you be at Auteuil all day? What a -disappointment for poor Juju, not to speak of Claire, who has to take -her chance of my temper when I am cross, and that idiot Madame Guerard, -who has put me to the expense of a stamp merely to say that she thinks -she is getting fat, and that she wishes you good morning. How thrilling! - -I love you, dearest Toto; I love you too much, for I am miserable when -you are away. I wish I could care comfortably, like you, for instance, -who feel neither better nor worse, whether I am near or far. You are -always the same; love never makes you miss the point of a joke, or a -hearty laugh, nor fail to notice a grey cloud, the Great Bear, a frog, a -sunset, the earth, water, gale, or zephyr. You see everything, enjoy -everything, without a thought for poor old Juju, who is being bored to -desperation in her solitary corner. Which of us two is the best lover, -eh? Answer that it is I, Juju, and you will be speaking the truth. Yes, -I love you. Try not to stay away from me all day. Love me for being sad -in your absence. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 6.30 p.m., September 23rd, 1837._ - -You are making yourself more and more of a rarity, my beautiful star, so -that I become chilled, and gloomy as an antique, moss-grown statue, -abandoned in the wilds of some deserted garden. I am not angry with you, -but I do wish you were less busy and more lover-like. You have quickly -resumed your fine Paris appearance, my beloved little man, whilst I -still cling to my travelling disguise. You ought surely to have waited -for me to take the initiative, if only for the sake of manners. Whom are -you so anxious to please, my bright boy? Who is the favoured one you -aspire to put in my place? In any case, I warn you that I shall not be -sly like Granier,[69] but that I shall fall upon your respective -carcases with frank blows of a cudgel, mind that! Now you may go in -search of your charmer, if you are prepared to see your bones ground to -powder for my use. - -If you come early this evening I shall be so happy, so cheery, so -content and good, that you will never wish to leave me again; but, if -you delay, I shall be exactly the reverse, and you will have to coax and -love me with all your might to comfort me. - -You are letting your letter-box get over-full again. Toto, Toto, I shall -make a bonfire of its contents if you do not come quick and secure them. -Mind what you are about! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 12.45 p.m., November 22nd, 1837._ - -I really believe you do it on purpose; but you may be certain that I -shall pay you back in the same kind: indifference for indifference; -_donnant donnant_ is my motto. - -Now let us talk of other things. What do you think of the taking of -Constantine? I cannot believe the present Ministry will survive long as -at present constituted; Thiers and Barot may be called upon at any -moment to form a new cabinet. What is your opinion? The commercial -crisis is still making itself felt in the markets; oils of every -description have gone down; for instance, rape oil which was at 47 is -now only at 45. A recovery is looked for next year, but I have my doubts -about it, haven't you?[70] - - * * * * * - -Do you not agree with me that all this points to a revolution in the -near future, which will entail sinister results for Wailly's Government? -For my part, I view with consternation the removal of the Carlists from -St. Jean Pied de Port to Paimb[oe]uf, after a sojourn at St. Menehould. -I am already sick of the recital of the horrors which disturb the -digestion and the tranquillity of the citizens, of whom you are the -chief ornament. Pray accept the expression of my distinguished -consideration. - -JULIETTE. - - -_December 5th, 5 p.m., 1837._ - -How kind you are, my Toto, to have come and relieved the suspense I was -in as to what had happened in Court.[71] Heavens, how well you spoke! I -was so moved and so convinced while I listened, that I forgot even to -admire you, yet I have never known you finer or more eloquent. Why must -the case be adjourned for a week? Is it to allow time for intrigues -against the incorruptible consciences of my lords the judges? I should -have given worlds for the verdict to have been delivered to-day; first -because it would relieve you of an anxiety as annoying as it is -fatiguing, secondly because I myself crave repose, and since this devil -of a lawsuit has come on the scene I cannot sleep at night, and lastly -because I shall then see you oftener, or at least so I hope. - -While I was waiting for you just now I copied a few passages from the -letters of Mdlle. de Lespinasse about the C. D.[72] and the S.[73] of -her period. Her opinions then, fit our own times absolutely: the same -absurdities, the same platitudes, and the same petty triumphs! It would -be pitiable were it not so grotesque. Nothing seems to have altered in -the last sixty years; there are the identical _bourgeois_ in the -identical Rue Saint Denis, the same men and women of the world--nothing -is missing. They have not grown old, they are still in good health. -Stupidity and bad taste are the best agents for the maintenance of -society in all its pristine foolishness. Here am I drivelling on just as -if I knew what I was talking about. It would be a nice set-out if I -attempted to write! I might just as well present myself as a candidate -for the Senate. Please forgive me. Your lawsuit is the cause of my -chatter, but I will not transgress again. I love you far too much to go -out of my way to make a fool of myself. - -JULIETTE. - - - RECEIPTS FOR THE MONTH OF DECEMBER 1837 - - Dec. Frs. Sous. Liards. - - Cash in hand 4 0 3 - 1. Money earned by my Toto 51 4 0 - 4. Cash from my darling 5 10 0 - 6. Money earned by my dear one 44 0 0 - 9. Cash from my Toto's purse 10 0 0 - 12. " " " " " 5 0 0 - 13. " " " " " 7 0 0 - 14. Money earned by my darling 45 0 0 - 17. Cash from my adored one 10 2 0 - 18. " " " " " 4 2 0 - 19. Money earned by my beloved 60 0 0 - 22. Cash from my Toto 2 0 0 - 24. " " " " 10 0 0 - 26. " " " " 3 0 0 - 28. Money earned by my Toto 102 12 0 - 30. Money earned by my darling 100 9 0 - _Plus_ the money for - the earring and ring 2 0 0 - ------------------ - Total 466 19 3 - - EXPENDITURE FOR THE MONTH OF DECEMBER 1837 - - Frs. Sous. Liards. - Food and wine 99 2 3 - Coal 1 1 0 - Lighting 21 6 0 - Household expenses and postage 16 0 0 - Baths, illness 8 1 0-1/2 - General expenditure 29 8 0 - Incidental expenses and pocket-money 5 8 0-1/2 - Dress 41 5 0 - Incidental expenses and pocket-money 5 8 0-1/2 - Dress 41 5 0 - Washing 16 5 0 - Debts and pawnbroker 151 6 0-1/2 - Wages 20 13 0 - To the Lanvins 4 2 0-1/2 - ----------------------- - Total 413 19 5 - Cash in hand 53 0 0 - - ----------------------- - 466 19 5[74] - -To Toto: 9 luncheons. - -Dinners to 10 persons. - -In all, about 19. - - -_Sunday, 1.45 p.m., January 21st, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my dear one, good-morning, my big Toto. How did you manage -to fit into your bed? You must have curled yourself up into five or six -hundred curves. One grows at such a pace in the space of an evening like -last night[75] that you must have become gigantic by this morning, -though you were already greater than any one else in the world. I have -grown, too, for my love equals your beauty, equals the praises and -admiration lavished upon you; so, unless one is prepared to state, -against all logic, that the container is smaller than the contents, I -must have grown and even surpassed you--without vanity. Love exalts as -much as glory does, and I love you more than you are great. Yes my Toto, -yes my dear Victor, I dare affirm it because it is true. I love you more -than you are great. - -How did you spend the night, adored one? I hope you did not work, tired -out as you were, and in that horrible little icehouse. I cannot think -of that room without shivering from head to foot. I shall be very glad -when I hear that it is closed and warmed. Unfortunately that does not -promise to be soon, and meanwhile you suffer and freeze, and I torment -myself about you. - -I adore you, my beloved Toto. I would die for you if you would promise -always to think lovingly of me; even without that condition I adore you, -my Victor. - -JULIETTE. - -_Sunday, 5.45 p.m., January 21st, 1838._ - -Must it always be my lot to wait, dearly beloved? I thought I had given -proofs sufficient of courage and resignation all this time, to have -earned my reward now. Of course I know you must have had the whole of -Paris in your house to-day, but if you cared for me as I do for you, you -would leave all Paris, and the world itself, for me. What good is the -back door, if not to enable you to evade importunate people, and fly to -the poor love who awaits you with so much longing and affection? Why -carry _four keys_ in your pocket, like the gaoler in a comic opera, if -you do not make use of them on the proper occasion? I am very sad, my -Toto. I do not think you care for me any more. You are as splendidly -kind and generous as ever, but you are no longer the ardent lover of old -days. It is quite true although you will not admit it out of compassion -for me. I am very unhappy. Some day I shall do something desperate to -rid you of me, for I cannot bear to realise the coldness of your heart, -and at the same time to accept your generous self-sacrifice. - -You know I have always told you that I will accept nothing from you if -you do not love me! I love you so much that if I could inspire you with -my feelings, there would be nothing left for me to desire in this world. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, Noon, February 12th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my dear little man. How are you this morning? I am very -well, but I should be still better if I had seen you and breakfasted -with you.... I am arranging to go to _Hernani_ to-night. I hope there -will be no hitch, and that the promise of the bills will at last be -fulfilled. I am longing for the moment. It is such ages since I have -seen my _Hernani_, and it is such a beautiful creation! I wish it were -already night, and I were in my little box, with dear little Toto -sitting at the back, where I might reward him with eyes and lips for -every beautiful line. You are not jealous? Yes, I want you to be -jealous! I want you to be jealous, even of yourself, or else I shall not -believe that you love me. - -Good-morning, Toto. All this nonsense simply means that I dote on you -and think you beautiful and great and adorable. You did not come last -night--probably because there was to be a rehearsal this morning. Try -and behave properly at it, for I have Argus eyes and shall come down -upon you myself, like a thunderbolt, in the midst of your antics. -Meanwhile, take care of yourself; do not get cold feet or a headache -like mine; it would be a great nuisance. - -Dear soul, if you had the least regard for your health, you would have -your flannel underclothing made at once. I assure you you would find it -very comfortable. I am sorry now that I let you take the stuff away, for -if I had it still, I should force you to do all this. It is not that I -want to worry you, my adored one, for I know how many other important -things you have to think of, but this is one of the most pressing; that -is why I should like it done. I love you, my Toto, with all my strength, -and more yet. I press my lips in spirit upon your eyes and hair. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 12.15 p.m., March 7th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my dear little beloved. How are your eyes, my Toto? It -torments me to know that you are suffering so much, for however brave -and uncomplaining you may be, I can see quite well that you are in pain. - -If you knew how I love you, my dear one, you would understand my trouble -and grief when you suffer. I suppose you are going to the rehearsal this -morning. I wish the first performance[76] was to be this evening, for I -am trembling already. Generally, I only begin to shiver on the day -itself, but this time my terrors have set in twenty-four hours in -advance. I hope my fears will have been vain, like so often before, and -that your beautiful poetry will prove all-conquering as ever. To-morrow -my soul will animate the spectators. I shall inspire enthusiasm in the -discriminating, and strangle, by sheer force of love, the hatred and -envy of the scum who would dare criticise your magnificent _Marion_, for -whom I have so special a partiality. - -[Illustration: AUTOGRAPH AND DRAWING BY JULIETTE DROUET.] - -I express myself awkwardly, but I feel all this acutely. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 7.30 p.m., March 7th, 1838._ - -MY DARLING, - -I see you very seldom, but it is not your fault, I know. I look -constantly into my heart, whence you are never absent, and there I see -you growing daily nobler, greater, and dearer. So to-morrow is _the -great day_! Ardently as I have desired its advent, I now dread it more -than I can say. However, up till now I have always been very frightened, -and nothing has happened, so I hope it may be the same this time. -Besides, how could the disapproval of a few miserable wretches and -idiots affect the magnificent verses of _Marion_? It will only prompt -the sincere and intelligent portion of the audience to do you instant -and brilliant justice. I am no longer afraid. I am as brave and strong -as love itself. Put me where you like--I do not care--all places are -equally good to applaud from, just as all moments are suitable for -adoring you. Good-bye, my love. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 12.45 p.m., March 8th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, blessed one. I am quite upset. If your success to-night is -in proportion to my fright, you will have the most magnificent triumph -of your life. I hardly know what I am doing; I am shaking like a leaf, I -cannot grasp my pen. I must try to pull myself together for this -evening. It is absurd of me to be such a little craven; besides, what -harm can a _cabal_ do you? None! It can only enhance your greatness, if -such a thing be possible; so, I am ashamed of my cowardice. I am -horribly stupid to dread a thing which certainly will not happen, and if -it did, would not injure you. Now that is enough! I will not fear again, -and I will admire and applaud my _Marion_ in the very face of the cabal. -I will give them a hot time to-night! Bravo! bravo!! bravo!!! I feel as -if I were there already, and the happiest of women. - -My little darling man, are you not soon coming to me? I do so long for -you. I feel as if you had been very cold to me lately. In the old days, -a first performance did not prevent your coming to make love to me. -Heavens, what torture it is to have to doubt you at a moment when I am -so desperately in need of you! I love you! - -JULIETTE. - -_Friday, 1.45 p.m., March 9th, 1838._ - -You are adorable, my great Victor. I wish I could express myself as -earnestly as I feel, but that is impossible; I am tongue-tied. So the -great performance is over! What a fool I was to be frightened, and how -rightly I placed my confidence in that great noodle the public, which is -so slow and so hard to work up, but when once started, boils over so -satisfactorily. What a magnificent success, and how thoroughly -justified! What a beautiful piece, what lovely verses! and the -fascinating poet! Everything was understood, applauded, admired. It was -delightful. My soul was raised heavenward with the Play. Dear God, how -magnificent it was!!!!!!!!!!! I must be there again to-morrow, and every -night. Surely I have the right! - -I love you, my Toto, I adore you with all the strength of my soul. I -wish I could go out--it is such a fine day. I kiss your beloved hands. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 12.15 a.m., March 11th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my beloved one, good-morning, handsomest and greatest of -men. I cannot speak as well as some of the people who pay you such -beautiful and sincere homage, but I feel from the bottom of my soul that -I admire and love you more than any one in the world. All the same, I am -sad and discouraged. I can see that you place no reliance on my -intelligence, that my last years are flying by without earning what they -easily might: a position, and a provision for the future. I am not angry -with you. It is not your fault if you are prejudiced against me to the -point of allowing me, without regret, to waste the last few years of my -youth. Possibly my desire to create for myself an independent position, -and to remain ever at your side, has given birth to the delusion that I -possess a great talent which only requires scope. However that may be, I -am in despair, and I love you more than ever. You are good to look at, -my adored one, you are great in intellect, my Victor, and yet I dare -proffer my devotion, for it is as genuine as your beauty and as deep as -your genius. I adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 11.30 a.m., April 10th, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my soul, my joy, my life. How are your adored eyes, my -Toto? I cannot refrain from asking, because it interests me to hear, -more than anything in the world. I am always thinking about them. I long -for the 15th of this month, for then I shall have the right to insist -upon your resting, and I shall certainly exercise it. My dear love, what -joy it will be for me to feel your dear head leaning against mine, to -kiss your beautiful eyes, and to make certain that you do not work. The -weather is lovely this morning. It carries my thoughts back to our dear -little annual trip, when we were so happy and so cosy together. We are -not to have that felicity this year, and really I do not know how I -shall endure it when the time comes at which we used to start. It will -be very hard and difficult, and I doubt whether my courage and reason -will suffice to enable me to bear the greatest sacrifice I have ever -made in my life. My dear one, it will be sad indeed; I wonder whether I -shall be equal to it. - -I love you, adore you, admire you, and again I love and adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 7.45 p.m., April 10th, 1838._ - -My love, I am writing to you with joy and worship in my heart. You were -so kind and tender and fascinating to me to-day that I seemed to feel -again the savour and rapture of the days of old. My Toto, my adored -one, fancy if your love were to flower again like some brilliant, -sweet-scented spring blossom! With what ecstasy and reverence I would -preserve it fresh and rosy in my breast. Poor beloved, your work has -done to our idyll what the winter does to the trees and flowers--the sap -has retired deep into the bottom of your heart, and often I have feared -it was quite dead; but now I see it was not: it was only lulled to sleep -and I shall possess my Toto once more, beautiful, blooming, and perfumed -as in those glorious days of our first love. - -I who am not a sensitive plant of the sun like you, have yet come better -through the trial, and if I bear no blossom, I have at least the -advantage of preserving my leaves ever green and alive; that is to say, -I have never ceased to love and adore you. Indeed that is true, my own, -I love you as much as the first day. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 11 a.m., April 22nd, 1838._ - -You see, darling, by the dimensions of my paper, that I am preparing to -go and applaud my _Marion_ this evening. I will not reproach you for not -having come this morning. In fact, in future I shall not allude to it -again, for nothing is more unsuitable or ridiculous than the -solicitations of a woman who vainly appeals for the favours of her -lover. Therefore, beloved, as I am to live with you as a sister with a -brother, you will approve of my refraining from reminding you in any way -of the time when we were husband and wife. - -It is still very cold, my maid says; although the sun is shining in at -my windows, it has left its warmth in the sky. It resembles the fine -phrases of a suitor who no longer loves; his words may be the same, his -expressions as tender, his language as impassioned, but love is lacking -and those words which scintillate as the sun upon my windows, fail to -warm the heart of the poor woman who had dreamt of love eternal. - -You will probably see Granier this morning.[77] I hope so, so that you -may not be worried any more about that business. I also hope Jourdain -will come to-morrow about the chimney. It is unbearable that one should -have to wait upon the whim of a workman for a job which might be -finished in a few minutes, and that would please you so much. I have -read with pleasure the verses that came to you in the newspaper from -Guadaloupe; they show that you are admired over there as much as here, -and that you have fewer enemies abroad than at the Academie Francaise. I -am furious with that little imp called Thiers, who although he is not a -quarter of a man as far as size goes, yet permits himself to cherish the -rancour of a giant. Miserable little wretch! If only I were not a woman, -I might castigate you as you deserve! - -And you, my Toto, so great and so wonderful, I adore you! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 10.15 a.m., August 2nd, 1838._ - -Good-morning, my little beloved. Do you still need a secretary? I am -quite ready. Come; it is so delightful to dip my pen into your glorious -poetry, and watch the shining and coruscating of those precious gems -which take the shape of your thoughts. Dede could not be more delighted -and dazzled than I am, if she were given the diamonds and jewels of the -crown of England to play with for an hour. Oh, if I could only have -spent the night with my Caesar and his noble companions, I would have -followed him without fatigue wherever he wanted to go, even as far -as.... But you would not allow it, you jealous boy; you feared -comparison, and you were perfectly right, for I like well-dressed men. -Good-morning, my Toto. My left eye is very bad; it is swollen and -painful. If this continues I shall no longer be in the position of -regretting that I cannot lend you my eyes in exchange for your own. I -love you, I adore you. Do not be too long before coming to me. - -I am longing for you with all my might. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 9.45 p.m., August 15th, 1838._ - -My dear little man, I love you. You are the treasure of my heart. I wish -we were already in our carriage galloping, galloping far, and farther -still, so that it might take us ever so long to get back. - -Since you have hinted at the possibility of my playing in your beautiful -piece,[78] I am like a somnambulist who has been made to drink too much -champagne. I see everything magnified: I see glory, happiness, love, -adoration, in gigantic and impossible dimensions--impossible, because I -feel you can never love me as I love you, and that my talent, however -considerable, can never reach to the level of your sublime poetry. I do -not say this from modesty, but because I do not think there exists in -this world man or woman capable of interpreting the parts as you -conceived them in your master mind. - -I love you, my Toto, I adore you, my little man, you are my sun and my -life, my love and my soul. - -All that, and more. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 8 p.m., September._ - -Are you proposing to cut out all the dandies and bloods of the capital? -My congratulations to you. I was only waiting for some such sign to give -myself up to an orgy of wild and eccentric toilette. Heaven only knows -the extravagances I mean to commit in the way of shoes, silk stockings, -gowns, hats, light gloves, and bows for my hair! You will, I suppose, -retaliate with an assortment of skin-tight trousers, strings of orders, -and more or less absurd hair arrangements. Delightful indeed! There only -remains for one of us to live at the Barriere de l'Etoile and the other -at the Barriere du Trone, to dazzle the dwellers of the town and -suburbs, as well as strangers from abroad. Capital!!! - -My sore throat has come on again and you are not here to cure it. If you -think this pleasant you are quite wrong, and if I followed my own bent I -should deprive you of your functions as doctor-in-chief of the great -Juju. I am determined to forgive you only if you come to supper with me -presently. Seriously, I cannot understand why you keep away, seeing -that your Play is in rehearsal, that this is our holiday time, and that -I adore you. I am almost tempted to be a little jealous, only -unfortunately, when I mean to be only slightly jealous, I become very -seriously so; therefore I try as much as possible to spare myself that -discomfort. You would be sweet and kind, my Toto, if you would come and -eat my frugal dinner with me to-night and ... I am going to concentrate -my thoughts upon you, so as to magnetise you and bring you back in the -shortest possible time to your faithful old Juju who loves and adores -you. My first proceeding is to kiss your eyes, your mouth, and your dear -little feet. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 12 noon, October 30th, 1838._ - -My beloved little man, you are so good and sweet when you see me that it -is a pity you should see me so seldom, and that you should forget me as -soon as your back is turned. To punish you, I am not going to write you -two letters to-day; partly in consideration for your dear little eyes, -and partly because it would be unfair to reward indifference and -coldness in the same degree as affection and assiduity. Pray do not take -the above expression, "dear little eyes," in an ironical sense--I mean -it on the contrary as an endearing diminutive; your "dear little eyes" -signify to me my adored, beautiful eyes, the mirrors of my soul, the -stars of my heaven, everything that is most beautiful and fascinating, -gentlest, noblest, and highest. - -I love you, my Toto. I kiss your ripe red lips, your dazzling teeth, -your little hands, and your twinkling feet. I am writing only your -little daily bulletin, because your eyes are bad, and you have no time -to waste; neither do I wish to tire or bore you, but only to make you -love me a little bit. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8.30 p.m., November 22nd, 1838._ - -My little treasure of a man, you were sweet to select my hovel for a -resting-place from which to write your laudatory remarks upon Mlle. -Atala Beauchene,[79] commonly called Beaudouin. It gave me a chance to -admire your charming profile and kiss your beautiful shining locks. I -thank you for that happiness, and I consent to your inditing daily -effusions concerning that lady, if only you do so in my room and under -my eyes. - -As you promised to come back presently, the chances are that you will -not return. I have half a mind to undress, light my fire, and set to -work to bruise poppy-heads; for my provision is almost at an end, and -later on I may be busy at the theatre, if Joly[80] persists in his crazy -idea of giving us a whole week's rehearsals of a piece which is only to -be played four months hence. It is an inducement to use the time at my -disposal now, to prepare your little daily remedy. - -I love you, Victor, I love you, my darling Toto. - -JULIETTE. - -_Monday, 6 p.m., April 15th, 1839._ - -Why is it, my little beloved, that you always seem so jealous? You take -the bloom off all those scraps of happiness your dear presence would -otherwise give me, for nothing chills one's embraces so much as the -vexed, uneasy mien you usually wear. It would not even be so bad if you -did not accuse _me_ of that same constrained, annoyed look; but the more -suspicious you are, the more you think it is I who am cross, although -this is simply the effect of the glasses through which your jealousy -views me. Never mind, I love you and forgive you, and if only you will -come and take me out a little this evening and show me part of _Lucrece_ -I shall be happy and content. What a beautiful day! I would have given -days and even months for the chance of strolling by your side wherever -your reverie led you. Alas, it is I who am sad, and with excellent -reason! As for you, you old lunatic, what have you to complain of? You -are adored, and you are free to accept and make use of that sentiment as -much and as often as you desire; perhaps that is why you desire it so -seldom.... But let us talk of other things. Please love me a little, -while I give you my whole soul. - -JULIETTE. - -_Sunday, 6.30 p.m., October 27th, 1839._ - -Here I am at my scribbling again, my Toto. It is a sad pleasure, if any, -after the two months of love and intimacy which have just elapsed. Here -I sit again with my ink and paper, my faults of spelling, my stupidity -and my love. When we were travelling I did not need all this -paraphernalia to be happy. It was enough for me to worship you, and God -knows whether I did that! Here I do not love you less--on the -contrary--but I live far from you, I long for you, I worry about you, I -am unhappy--that is all. Still, I am not ungrateful or forgetful; I -fully appreciate that you have just given me nearly two months of bliss. -I still feel upon my lips the touch of your kisses, and upon my hand the -pressure of yours. But the felicity I have experienced only throws into -greater relief the void your absence leaves in my life. When you are no -longer by my side, I cease to exist, to think, to hope. I desire you and -I suffer. Therefore I dread as much as death itself the return to that -hideous Paris, where there is naught for lovers who love as we -love--neither sunshine, nor that confidence which is the sunshine of -love--nothing but rain, suspicion, jealousy, the three blackest, -saddest, iciest of the scourges which can afflict body and heart. Oh, I -am wretched, my Toto, in proportion to my love; it is true, my adored -one, and it will ever be thus, when you are not with me. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 10 a.m., November 1st, 1839._ - -Good-morning, my dear little beloved, my darling little man. You told me -so definitely yesterday that my handwriting was hideous, and my scrawl -nothing but a horrible maze in which you lose both patience and love, -that I hardly dare write to you to-day, and it would take very little to -make me cease our correspondence altogether. We must have an explanation -on this subject, for it is cruel of you to force me to make myself -ridiculous night and morning, simply because I love you and am the -saddest and loneliest of women. If my love must be drowned in my -ignorance and stupidity, at least do not force me to make the plunge -myself. There was a time when you would not have noticed the ugliness of -my writing; you would only have read my meaning and been happy and -grateful. Now you laugh, which is shabby and wicked of you. This seems -to be the fate of all the Quasimodo of this world, moral and physical; -they are jeered at: form is everything, spirit nothing. Even if I could -constrain my crabbed scrawl to say, "My soul is beautiful," you would -not be any the less amused. Therefore, my dear little man, pending the -moment when I can join in the laugh against myself, I think it would be -as well to suspend these daily lucubrations. Besides, the moment has -come when I must turn all my time and energies towards making my -position secure. Nothing in this world can turn me from my purpose, for -it is to me a question of life and death, and Heaven knows that in all -these seven years I have never failed to tell you so whenever there has -been an opportunity. I count upon you to help me, my beloved. I am -asking you for more than life--for the moral consummation of our -marriage of love. Let me go with you wherever my happiness is -threatened, let me be the wife of your mind and heart, if I cannot be -yours in law. If I express myself badly, do not scoff, but understand -that I have a right to put into words what you yourself have felt, and -that I insist upon defending my own against all those women who get at -you under pretext of serving you. I will have my turn, for I love you -and am jealous. - -J. - -_Friday, 6.30 p.m., November 1st, 1839._ - -You are good, my adored one, and I am a wretch; but I love you while you -only permit yourself to be loved; that is what makes you so tranquil and -me so bitter. My heart is weighed down by jealousy this evening and -nothing less than your adored presence will suffice to calm me, for I -carry hell and all the furies within my soul. I wish I could be sewn to -the lining of your coat to-night, for I feel I am about to encounter -some great danger that I can only defeat by not leaving your side. If my -fears are well-grounded, I shall probably fail in averting the doom that -threatens me, for you will not be able to stay with me all the evening. -The compliments and flattery you will receive will take you from me. I -cannot deny that I am unhappy and jealous, and would much rather be with -you at Fontainebleau, at the Hotel de France, than in Box C. of the -Theatre Francais, even when _Marion de Lorme_ is being played. Kiss me, -my little man; you are very sweet in your new greatcoat, but you had not -told me you had been to your tailor. I shall keep up with you by sending -for my dressmaker. I do not mean to surrender to you the palm for -smartness and dandyism. Ha! who is caught? Toto! Toto! - -Resilieux is beaming, Claire is happy, Suzanne is an idiot; such is the -condition of the household. I am all three at the same time, plus the -adoration I profess energetically for your imperial and sacred person. -Kiss me and be careful of yourself this evening. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 12 noon, November 4th, 1839._ - -Good-morning, treasure. It is twelve by my clock, which is several hours -fast, but I have been up some little time. I have dressed my child, and -she is now practising on the piano. I spent the night thinking over what -you said, my adored one. One luminous phrase especially stands out and -scorches my soul. Perhaps you only said it idly as one of the -compliments one is constrained to make to the woman who loves one? I -know not, but I do know, that I have taken the assurance you gave me -that you have never really loved any woman but me, as a sacred thing, -unalterably true. I adore you and had never felt even the semblance of -love until I met you. I love and adore you, and shall love and adore you -for ever, for love is the essence of my body, my heart, my life, and my -soul. Believe this, my treasure, for it is God's own truth. Your dread -of seeing me re-enter theatrical life will quickly be dissipated by the -probity and steadiness of my conduct. I hope, and am certain of this. -You have nothing to fear from me wherever I may be. I adore you, I -venerate you. If I could do as you wish and renounce the theatre, that -is to say my sole chance of securing my future, I would do so without -hesitation and without your having to urge it, simply to please you. -But, my beloved, I feel that it were easier to relinquish life itself -than the hope of paying my creditors and making myself independent by -earning my own living. If I were to make this sacrifice I am sure my -despair would bring about some irreparable catastrophe that would weigh -upon you all your days. - -My adored one, do not try to turn me from the only thing that can bring -me peace and make me believe in your love. Help me and do not forsake -me unless I give you just cause to do so. Spend your whole life in -loving me, in exchange for my unswerving loyalty and adoration. - -Kiss me, my little man. - -I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday, 4.45 p.m., November 15th, 1839._ - -I wrote the date and hour on this half-sheet of paper, thinking it was -blank. I explain this, in order that your suspicious mind may not again -draw a flood of insulting deductions from a thing that has happened so -simply and naturally. You upset me just now when you said good-bye, -because you said cruel things. It was a bad moment to choose. Your -manner to me is enough to discourage an angel, and I have begun to ask -myself whether it is possible to love a woman one does not esteem. If -you esteemed me you would not for ever suspect my words, my silence, my -actions, my conduct; if you loved me you would know how to appreciate my -honesty and fidelity, whereas even in the tenderest moments of our most -intimate communion, you never fail to say something cruel and -disheartening. I often say one might almost imagine you were under a -promise to someone to tire out my love by inflicting pain upon me on -every occasion; but I hope you will never succeed in doing this. - -I suffer, I despair at heart, but I love you so far, and I hope for both -our sakes that I always shall. I cling to my love even more than to your -esteem, for the latter is a poor blind thing that cannot distinguish -night from day, candle-light from sunshine, or an honest woman from a -harlot. - -[Illustration: THE BRIDGE OF MARNE. - -Drawing by Victor Hugo (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -My love is more clear-sighted. It was attracted at once by your physical -and spiritual perfection, and has never confused you with any other of -the human species. I love you, Toto. Torment me, drive me to desperation -if you will, but you shall never succeed in diminishing my affection. My -head aches, little man, and the thoughts that fill it at this moment are -not calculated to cure its pain. I press my hand upon my brow to crush -thought, and I open my heart to all that is good and tender in my love -for you. Good-bye, Toto. I adore you. Good-bye. We were very happy this -morning; let us try to be so again very soon. - -In the meantime I adore you. - -JULIETTE. - -_Wednesday, 8.45, November 20th, 1839._ - -I am in despair. I wish I were dead and everything at an end! The more -precautions I take, the more I purge my life, the less happiness I -achieve. It is as if I were accursed, and I often feel a wild desire to -behave as if I were, and crush my love underfoot. I am so unhappy that I -lose all courage and hope for the future. You were very good to me when -you were going away, but that does not prove that when you come back -presently you may not be the most offensive and unjust of men. I -sacrifice to you one by one all my actions, even the most insignificant; -I am careful inwardly and outwardly to cause you no sort of offence, and -yet I am unsuccessful! My struggles only fatigue and dishearten me. On -the eve of taking the great step which would bind us to each other even -closer than we already are, would it not be better for us to break off -our relations, and put a stop to the whole thing instead? I can -understand now the generosity of Didier, who elects to die upon the -scaffold forgiving Marion with his last breath, rather than live -persecuting and torturing her with the recollection of her past, and -with suspicions a thousand times more painful than death and oblivion. -Ah, yes, I can understand a Didier like that.... I suffer! Ah, God, -people who do not love are very fortunate! I love you, and I know that -failing some violent remedy I shall continue to suffer and care for you. -I admit that all these things I write are absurd, and that it would be -wiser to throw this letter into the fire, and keep to myself the -thousand and one follies inspired by my despair. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 5.30 p.m., December 16th, 1839._ - -You did well, my adored one, to come back after the painful incident we -had just gone through. If you had not, I should have been wretched all -the evening. Thank you, my beloved Toto, thank you, my love. You looked -very preoccupied, my treasure, when you came up the first time. I -gathered that Guirault's letter had something to do with this, and that -you were meditating your answer. Beyond that, I did not take much -notice, for I was too furious with you to be able to think of anything. - -If you knew how much I love you, and how faithful I am to you, my adored -one, you would be less suspicious. Suspicion is an insult that makes me -frantic, because, it proves to me that you do not believe in either my -honesty or my love. Jealousy is another thing: one can be jealous of a -face or of a person, because however sure one may be of one's own -superiority, one may still fear that some beast or monster may be -preferred to oneself; but jealousy, I repeat, is different from -everlasting suspicion of one's actions and even of one's negative -conduct and inaction. Finally, I differentiate between jealousy and -suspicion; I feel there is a great gulf between my jealousy and yours, -and yet I love you more than you love me--you cannot gainsay that--if -you admit it, I will pardon all your misdeeds and adore you and kiss -your dear little feet. _Hurrah! I am to have my wardrobe! Hurrah!_ - -You will not be an Academician, but you will always be my dear little -lover. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 5 p.m., January 16th, 1840._ - -I love you, my Toto, and am sad at seeing you so seldom. But I know how -much you have to do, my little man, so am not angry with you--still that -does not prevent me from being horribly sad. - -Money melts in my pocket. I was reading yesterday a description of -Monsieur de Sevigne, the son, which applies wonderfully to me. "He had -no hobbies, did not entertain, gave no presents, wore plain attire, -gambled not at all, had only one servant and not a single horse on which -to ride out with the King or the Dauphin; yet his hand was like a -crucible wherein gold is melted." I am rather like that. I do not give -many presents, I wear the same dress for a year at a time, I only do -expensive cooking when you are coming to dine with me, I have only one -servant, and yet money disappears in my establishment like snow under -the rays of the sun. With me, it is not my hand that is the crucible, -but my past life, which is like an abyss that all the money in the world -would find it difficult to fill. That is why I am sad. Love me, my Toto, -and above all do not kill yourself with working for everybody as you do -without respite. I can sell something I do not want, whereas your health -and repose are indispensable to my welfare and tranquillity. Remember -that, my dear one, and do not be over scrupulous at the expense of the -real consideration which makes my happiness. When shall I see you again, -treasure? - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 1.15 p.m., March 22nd, 1840._ - -Good-morning, my beloved Toto. I read the manuscript of "Didine" over -again last night, and I shed all the tears I had restrained in your -presence. I am more convinced than ever that you committed an act of -unfaithfulness against our love when you composed those lines. I do not -see how you can hope to persuade me to the contrary, or wonder that I am -wounded to the quick by such a mental and spiritual lapse. Jealousy is -not excited only by infidelities of the senses, but primarily by such an -infidelity as that which you have committed in writing these verses and -concentrating your gaze and your thoughts upon that young girl, while my -whole heart and soul were raised in prayer for you in that church at -Strasbourg. I will never go back there, either to the church or to the -town. There is an end of that. Would to God we had never gone there at -all! I should have preserved one illusion more, and suffered one sorrow -less. Well, well, it is not your fault. You wished to carry away the -memory of that woman, as you could not possess her person, and you have -written some very beautiful lines which prove, in the same degree as my -pain, what a profound and striking impression she produced upon you. I -hope you may never experience a jealousy so well-justified as mine about -any woman you may love in the future; for myself I desire a speedy -recovery from the most miserable infatuation in all this world. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 6.45 p.m., June 1st, 1840._ - -I am writing to you in the company of Resilieux, my love, but that does -not restore to me the gaiety I have lost since this morning. That woman -and her persistence annoy me more than I can say. When I think of the -close confinement in which I live and realise the depth and devotion of -the love I bear you, I am indignant to the bottom of my heart that a -wretched woman of the street should dare to cast the eye of envy upon a -passion which constitutes the religion and adoration of my whole life. -If I listened to my own inclination, I should make a terrible example of -the hussy and her low caprice, and no other would venture an attempt to -capture your affections for many a long day. I am wretched since this -morning. I think myself plain, old, stupid, badly dressed--and all -because I tremble for the safety of my love, because I am afraid for my -poor little slice of happiness. Alas! alas! my Toto, I care too much -for you; it is crazy of me. I did so hope that when your family was -settled in the country, you would sometimes come and take me out with -you--but, on the contrary, in a whole month I have only been out once -with you; for I do not count those two evenings at the theatre, when I -drove there and back in a carriage. It would be a cruel jest if you -considered those as going out with you. I am not well. I have rushes of -blood to the head and heart, but you do not care. I shall not do my -monthly accounts to-night; my head aches too badly. Perhaps I may try -to-morrow. The laundress has been here and I have paid her; I shall -probably get the grocer's bill to-morrow, but I shall certainly not pay -it unless you have plundered some passer-by to-night. Meanwhile, I love -you, my Toto. Dinner has just been announced; I shall not be as happy as -yesterday, for you are not dining with me; but perhaps as I am alone I -shall be able to ruminate over my good fortune, for I was hardly able to -realise it at all yesterday with all those females about. - -JULIETTE. - - -_January 7th, 9.30 a.m., 1841._ - -Good-morning, my darling Toto, to whom I dare not yet give his -prospective title, for I am very doubtful of the integrity of old -Dupaty. I hope you will not keep me waiting too long for the result of -the rabid voting of the opposing parties.[81] The contest becomes more -and more curious and interesting. I wish it were already four o'clock. - -The weather is not very propitious for that moribund scoundrel. It would -be difficult to let him down through the window, and still more so to -transport him to the place where we do not wish him to be. If the -computation is correct, the mortal illness of the old wretch should give -you the place by a majority of one vote at the first scrutiny; but what -about a black-ball? Perhaps this time it will come from the ignoble -creature who walks under the filthy, greasy, hideous hat of that beast -Dupaty. I wish we were already at this afternoon, that I might know what -the foul old man has dared to do. Until then I shall look at my clock -many and many a time. Try, my love, to come at once and tell me the -result whatever it may be. I shall at least have the pleasure of seeing -you, which will add to the joy of your nomination or console you for -your defeat. - -By the way, you were so shabby last night that one might suppose you -were preparing to contest the palm of bad dressing with that old -pickpocket Dupaty. I shall forgive you your untidiness if you are -successful. I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 6 p.m., January 7th, 1841._ - -I am enchanted for everybody's sake, my dear Academician, that at last -you are elected. There you are at last, thanks to the seventeen votes of -your friends, and in spite of your fifteen adversaries. You are an -Academician. Hurrah! - -I wish I could have witnessed with my own eyes the grimaces of all -those contemptible old things, and heard the profession of faith of that -horrible Dupaty; you ought to indemnify me by showing me your own -beautiful countenance for a little more than a paltry five minutes as -you did just now. I love you, Toto, as much as the first day and more -than ever. But, alas, I dare not believe the same of you, for I do not -see much proof of it, as my maid would say. The fact is that whether as -an Academician, or a candidate, or nothing at all, I hardly see you more -than an hour a day. This is neither novel nor consoling; it becomes more -and more sad and painful. Think of that, my love, and come very soon -after you have read my letter. - -I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 10.45 a.m., April 11th, 1841._ - -Good morning, my beloved Toto, my adored little man. How are you, my -darling? I am afraid you may have tired yourself last night reading your -splendid speech to me. Poor beloved, it would be a calamity that my -pleasure should cost you so dear; it would be unjust and cruel. I hope -it is not so, my adored one, and that you have not been punished for -your kindness. - -What a magnificent address! and how stupid it is of me only to -appreciate it inwardly, and to be incapable of expressing my feelings -better than by inarticulate grunts. It is not my fault, yet since I have -learned to love you I have not been able to resign myself to my -limitations. Every time the opportunity presents itself to admire you I -am furious with myself and should like to slap and kick myself--though -my poor body would have no time to recover between the assaults, for -every single thing you say and do is as admirable and striking as your -written works. So I should be kept busy. Fortunately you do not object -to my want of intellect; you realise the quality and proportions of my -love. All my intelligence and being have turned to spirit, to idolise -you. I may be only a goose outwardly, but inwardly I am sublime with -devotion. Which is best? I cannot tell, it is for you to decide. -Meanwhile I am the most fortunate of women to have heard the beginning -of your beautiful speech, and I love you with all my strength. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 4.30 a.m., June 3rd, 1841._ - -Good morning, my adored little man, my beloved _Monsieur l'Academicien_! -How are you, my Toto? I am very much afraid you will be horribly tired -before this afternoon, poor treasure![82] I think you should have had -the speech printed a day earlier, and have kept this night free for -resting. - -I really do not know how you will manage to deliver your address after -these several days of grinding fatigue, and a night spent in correcting -the proofs at the printing-works. Nobody but you can accomplish these -feats of endurance. Still, my beloved, it is time you changed a mode of -living which must kill you in the long run. I hope you are going to -spend the remaining few hours in your bed. - -I already feel as agitated as if I were going to make the speech myself. -I shall be in a desperate state of mind until you have finished and -Salvandy begins to speak. I shall have this fearful lump on my chest -until then. - -Whatever happens I adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_June 3rd, 5.30 p.m., 1841._ - -Where shall I begin, my love? At your divine feet or your celestial -brow? What shall I express first? My admiration? Or the adoration that -overflows my heart like your sublime genius surpasses the mediocre -creatures who listened to you without understanding, and gazed at you -without falling upon their knees! Ah, let me mingle those two sentiments -that dazzle my brain and burn up my heart. I love you! I admire you! I -adore you! You are truly splendid, noble, and sublime, my poet, my -beloved, light of my eyes, flame of my heart, life of my life! Poor -adored beloved; when I saw you enter, so pale and shaken, I felt myself -swooning, and but for the support of Madame Demousseaux and Madame -Pierceau, I should have fallen to the floor. Happily nobody noticed my -emotion, and when I came to myself and saw your sweet smile answering -mine and encouraging me, I felt as if I were awaking from a long, -painful dream, though only a second of time had elapsed. - -Thank you, my adored one, for sparing a thought to the poor woman who -loves you, at that solemn moment--I should have said, that supreme -moment, if the assemblage had not consisted for the greater part of -tiresome blockheads and vile scoundrels. - -Thank you, my good angel, my sublime Victor, my illustrious _child_. I -saw all your dear little family;[83] lovely Didine, charming Charlot, -and dear little Toto who looked pale and delicate. I kissed them all in -spirit as I did their divine father. - -I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 2.30 p.m., July 8th, 1841._ - -While you are lording it at the Academie[84] I am weeping and suffering -at home. You might have spared me this pain by inviting me to attend the -sitting, or else staying away yourself. I must warn you, my Toto, that -this sort of sacrifice and torment is unendurable, and if it happens -again I do not know what I may do rather than resign myself to it. - -We are not living in the East, and you have not _bought_ me, thank -Heaven! I am free to cast off the yoke of proceedings which are neither -just, nor kind, nor affectionate. I swear by all I hold most sacred in -this world, namely my love, that I will not submit a third time to be -thus flouted. If you knew how furious and miserable I am feeling at this -moment of writing, you would not venture to inflict a third trial of the -kind upon me. In any case pray keep my letter as a _definite -announcement_ of what I am capable of doing if you are so cruel as to -persist in your present line of conduct. Meanwhile I am doing my best to -avoid taking any definitely fatal step, but I warn you that I cannot -much longer remain mistress of myself. - -JULIETTE. - - -_1 a.m._ - -Hell in my heart at noon, Paradise at midnight, my Toto. I love you and -have full confidence in you. - - -_Friday, 7.45 p.m., November 19th, 1841._ - -I HAVE IT! HURRAH!! Fancy, it has been here all the morning, yet nothing -warned me! My heart did not beat faster than usual, the earth did not -tremble, the skies did not fall, in fact everything remained in its -humdrum, normal condition, as if nothing unusual had happened--and it -was here all the time! I possessed it in my room, under my eyes! Verily -it can hardly be credited, and if anybody but myself said so I should -not believe it. But what you must believe, my love, for indeed it is -true, is that I love you and that you are the kindest, most charming, -best, handsomest, most generous, most noble, and most adored of men. -That is what you have got to believe, because it is God's own truth. The -cabinet is fascinating, but what is still nicer is the way you gave it -to me. "The manner of the gift is better than the gift itself," was once -said by some one whose name I have forgotten. When you are the donor, -the proverb is still more applicable. If you had all the treasures of -the universe to bestow, you would do it with a grace that would enhance -the value of the gift a thousandfold. As for me I am mad with delight, -for I believe you love me. I may tell you now that last night I cried -helplessly at the thought of how much younger and handsomer you are than -I. I anticipated the moment when you will no longer be able to love me, -and my heart contracted so that I should have suffocated without the -relief of tears. I feel I shall certainly die the day you cease to care -for me, and I know that no other woman can ever worship you as I do. But -I trust that day will never dawn, will it, my angel? There are no -wrinkles in the heart, and you will see my face only in the reflection -of your attachment, eh, Victor, my beloved? The while I wept and -mourned, you were thinking of me, my poor sweet, and bringing me the -cabinet. We were both performing an act of love, mine gloomy, yours, -charming and considerate like everything you do. I hope your present -will bring us both happiness, and that you will adore me as long as I -shall admire my dear little cabinet--that is, for ever. - -I HAVE IT! WHAT HAPPINESS! I should like to put it in the middle of the -room on a golden table, or in my bed, or carry it in my arms, on my -heart, anywhere in fact where it could be seen and touched. Meanwhile I -will give it a good cleaning to-morrow. It is rather too late to-night. -I must do some copying, and dine, and send you back the scribble you -entrusted to me yesterday, so I will put off till to-morrow--principally -because I shall have a better light then. I will clean it in bed, drawer -by drawer. It will be a delightful occupation. - -I love you, I love you, Toto, I kiss you and adore you, Toto. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday evening, 6.30, February 9th, 1842._ - -Do you really want me to write Toto, even when my heart is breaking, and -my soul brimful of discouragement? I obey, but if you would only listen -to me, you would allow me to discontinue these daily scrawls, which have -never served any purpose but that of betraying the measure of my -stupidity and making you tire of a love become absurd by dint of -reiteration. I feel you only insist out of kindness, but it seems futile -to continue this childish babble, which deceives neither you nor me, and -gives me no indication of what is passing in your mind. It would be -better, my beloved, to inure me gradually to a catastrophe which may be -nearer than I guess, than to make efforts to leave me an illusion which -neither of us really shares nowadays. A sad ending to all our past -happiness! God grant it may not be altogether buried. This does not -prevent me from doing you full justice, my friend. You are kind with a -kindness full of pity and divine indulgence, but you no longer cherish -for me the love of a man for a woman. Do not pretend otherwise, for you -cannot delude me. I bear you no grudge my Victor, neither should you -bear me any, for it is no more your fault than mine, that you do not -love me while I still love you--not our fault, but God's, Who -distributes unequally the amount of love we may each expend during our -lives. Happy he or she to whom the smaller sum is apportioned--so much -the worse for him or her whose heart is inexhaustible. Now, my beloved -Toto, I will torment you no longer. I will even try to make myself -agreeable, though, alas, what woman can be agreeable when she is no -longer loved! But I shall do my best, and that, coupled with your -natural generosity, may still retard for a few days the greatest -misfortune of my life. Fear nothing from me, my Victor. You have to-day -received the last expression of my choler. One may strike, and even -kill, while one feels oneself beloved, but one must spare the man who no -longer cherishes one. - -You see, my Victor, that you have nothing to be afraid of, but I beseech -you to let me off these daily scribbles about things that have neither -point nor reason. - -I demand this of your goodness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 2.30 p.m., February 10th, 1842._ - -My beloved, my adored Victor, thank you! You remove hell from my heart, -and replace it with paradise. Thank you! My life, my spirit, my soul, -bless and adore you. What a letter, my God! I wanted to read it -kneeling; happy tears poured down my cheeks. You love me, my dear one! -It must be true, for you declare it in the loveliest, sweetest language -of the whole world. You love me although I am ill-tempered, violent, -stupid; you love me my good angel, because you know that your love is -the breath of life to me, and that without it I could no longer exist. I -also love you, but only God and myself know how deeply. Yesterday when -you left me, I was on my knees praying and kissing with tears the -footsteps I could hear fading away in the street. I could have flung -myself out of the window and died at your feet. My despair, then, was as -poignant as the bliss I felt just now when I read your adored letter. -My Victor, my love, my life, my joy, I love you more than ever! I -implore your forgiveness, I throw myself at your feet and embrace them. -Thank you, my treasure. You must be very happy, for you have done a -lovely thing in writing me the most charming, the kindest, the most -wonderful and most adorable letter that ever issued from your heart. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 9.30, April 30th, 1842._ - -Good morning, my adored Toto. How did the little invalid sleep last -night? As for you, I do not even ask, my poor dear, for I know you spend -all your nights working. I love you, my poor angel. I do not know what -else to say, because that is the only thought in my heart and soul; to -love you always and for ever. Here comes the bright sunshine that is -going to cure our poor little man at once.[85] I have not seen a finer -spring since the one we spent strolling about the heights of Montmartre -together. I cannot think of it without tears of regret for the days that -are gone, and of gratitude to Providence for those few moments of most -perfect felicity. I would give half my life to have it again, my beloved -Toto; and it depends only upon you--if you wished it, we could easily -recover the happiness of those days. Why do you no longer desire it? I -know you have to work, but so you did then--_Claude Gueux_, _Philosophie -Melee_, _Les Voix Interieures_, _Les Chants du Crepuscule_, _Angelo_, -_Les Rayons et Les Ombres_ and _Ruy Blas_, are there to prove it. In -those days you loved me better than you do at present. Alas, I love you -more than ever, or rather, as much as the first day!--that is, with -all my soul. - -JULIETTE. - -[Illustration: A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET. - -The original belongs to M. Louis Barthou.] - -_Saturday, 6.30 p.m., August 20th, 1842._ - -I am a strange creature--at least you think so, do you not, beloved? But -what you take for eccentricity, caprice, bad-temper, is really love, but -an unhappy love, mistrustful and anxious. Everything is to me a subject -of dread almost amounting to despair. Thus this visit to the Duchesse -d'Orleans, whither I quite admit you were kind enough to take me, was -simply a torment on account of the hour and the circumstances: I, badly -dressed, barely clean, and that woman under the prestige of a great -sorrow[86] which, next to physical beauty, is the surest way to your -heart. I frankly confess that however gallant my love may be, and -whatever reliance I may place upon your loyalty, I am not easy when I -have to fight and struggle without weapons. This result of a _surprise_ -and a hurried rush through Paris in a cab may seem excessive to you, and -verging on hysteria; but the fact is, my adored one, that my love, so -long repressed, is verily degenerating into a disease, almost into -frenzy. Everything hurts me. I am afraid of everything. I am a poor -thing needing much compassion for loving you so. If these incoherent -expressions do not force upon you the realisation of the depth of my -devotion, it must be that you no longer care for me, or indeed have -never done so; but if on the contrary you do understand, you will pity -and pardon me, and love me all the better, and I am the happiest of -women. - -JULIETTE. - - -_February 14th, 11.15 a.m., 1843._ - -Good morning beloved Toto, good morning adored one. I love you. When I -heard you describing last night the impression produced upon you by the -rehearsal of _Lucrece_ and more especially by the singing of the guests, -I seemed to feel it all myself. The fact that my love has not grown a -day older, that my admiration is still on the increase, that I think you -as handsome and as young as ever, makes it easier for me to go back to -the feelings of those days. Looking into my heart, I seem to feel that -all this adulation and joy and feast of glory and love began yesterday. -Alas, those ten years have left traces only upon my poor countenance, -and have been as harsh to it as they have been indulgent to your -charming features. - -I express this somewhat crudely, as I always manage to do, but it is not -my fault, my love, nor any one else's. I love you. Therein consist my -intelligence, my wit, my superiority; beyond that I am as stupid as any -other animal. - -You must be very busy to-day with the two rehearsals,[87] and the -Maxime[88] worry which falls upon your devoted head, not to speak of the -_great business_! I dare not expect you to-night till very late. Well, -my dearly beloved, I know you do not belong to me, so I will resign -myself as cheerfully as may be, and put a good face upon your absence. -Try to think of me, my dear little man; that is all I venture to ask at -this moment. As for me, there is no more merit in thinking of you and -loving you than in breathing. - -I love you, Toto, as much as life. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 4.30 p.m., September 13th, 1843._ - -Where are you? What are you about, my adored one?[89] In what condition -is your family? What state are you in yourself? what will happen to us -all in our despair, if God be not merciful to us! Since you left me I -can think only of your arrival at home. I imagine the scene: the -despairing sobs of your children, the expression of your own frightful -grief, so long and sternly repressed. All those tears and sufferings -fall back upon my heart and rend it. I cannot bear more. My poor head is -on fire and my hands burn like live coals. I want to pray and cannot; -all my faculties, all my being, turn to you. I would give my life to -spare you a single pang. I would have sacrificed myself in this world, -and the next to save your adored child. My God, what will become of me -if you stay away much longer, when I have refrained with such difficulty -from sending to get news of you? I have begged Madame Lanvin to come to -me this afternoon and bring her husband, so that if, as I fear, I have -not seen you before then, he can go and ask for news of you under the -name of Monsieur St. Hilaire. My heart aches, my poor treasure, when I -think of all you are enduring. I feel I cannot much longer bear not -seeing you. I shall commit some act of folly if you do not come to my -assistance. I exhausted my strength and courage on that awful journey, -and during last night and to-day. I have none left now to endure your -absence. I picture to myself your wife ill, and you also; in fact, I am -like a mad thing in the extremity of my anxiety and grief. I am trying -to occupy myself mechanically, in order to bring nearer the moment when -I shall see you, but my efforts only make every minute of waiting seem -like a century, and all the fears my heart anticipates, become frightful -realities against which I cannot struggle. My adored Victor, whatever be -your despair, mine is greater still; for I feel it through my love, -which makes it a hundred times worse and multiplies it beyond all human -calculation. Never has man been so idolised by woman as you are by me, -and the poor angel we mourn knows it and sees it now, as God knows and -sees it, and she will forgive, as He does, I am certain. I think of her, -poor beloved, as an angel of heaven. To her I shall direct my prayers, -that she may give you the strength and courage you need. To her also I -shall address myself in the hour of death, that the good God may take me -with all of you into His Paradise. - -My adored Victor, it is more than five o'clock, and you have not yet -come. What shall I do! What can I think, or rather what am I to fear? We -are in a terrible cycle of misfortune, and God only knows when it will -end. My Victor, before giving way to despair, think of mine, remember -that I love you more than life. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 5.45 p.m., October 8th, 1843._ - -I have been working all the morning my beloved, or rather scribbling on -paper--only to please you, for I doubt whether my labour will be of any -use to you; still, I am trying hard, and if I cannot do _better_, I am -doing _my_ best. I cannot do more. I am trying more especially to forget -no detail, which makes me occasionally note down trivialities, little -futile, insignificant things. My search among our memories is like the -botanising of a child who is as apt to collect couch grass as the more -useful and rarer plants. However, I am doing my best, and better still, -I am obeying you. Would you believe that, although I have been writing -the whole day, I have not yet reached _Auch_.[90] My mind and pen rather -resemble the fantastic equipage we drove thither, but there is less risk -in the present venture. The worst that can happen is that we should -tumble promiscuously into a muck heap of absurdities and nonsense which -leave no bruises, whereas we risked our necks several times in the -course of the thirty-three miles between Tarbes and Auch. - -I should love to see you, my Toto. The day, though filled with joyous -recollections of our journey, has seemed long and sad to me. Nothing can -take the place of one of your embraces. The remembrance of the greatest -happiness cannot weigh against one glance from you. I realise it more -to-day than ever before; therefore, do try and come, my beloved Toto. It -will give me courage and patience to get through the evening. I love you -too much, you see, but I cannot help it; it is no fault of mine. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Sunday, 7.15 p.m., November, 1843._ - -I think of you my beloved, I desire you, I love you. Ah yes, I love you -my adored Toto, you may be sure of it, for it is God's truth. My little -Claire and I talk of you and nothing but you. We love you and bless you. -The poor little child will not be with me much longer, and I can already -see her poor little face wrinkling up with sorrow; but I try to be -cheerful and to remind her of the fortnight's holiday which will soon -come. We love the pictures of your dear little Toto, and his pretty -home. We gaze at them with eagerness and affection, we are all eyes and -heart. At this moment Claire is reading Ulric's poems,[91] while I am -writing to my beloved Toto with a heart full of gratitude and devotion. -May the happiness you bestow upon me, be yours also, my love! May a just -pride sustain you, for you have saved two souls, the mother's and the -daughter's! I feel ineffable things I dare not express, for fear of -vulgarising them by the mere fact of putting them into words. Do not -delay long ere you come, my darling Toto. If you knew the joy and -radiance you diffuse in this house, you would indeed hasten your steps. -Alas, I am foolish, for have you not children of your own whom you must -also make glad! I am envious of them, but not cruel enough to deprive -them of their bliss--only I beg of them to hurry with their enjoyment, -so that my turn may come. - -Did you give Dede the sachet? Did Toto take back his quince jelly? -Meanwhile, I am giving Suzanne a whole evening to herself, and making my -little rogue read _Le Musee des Familles_. I should love to give you a -good kiss, but I know you will not come for it. You have not the sense -to do so. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 11.15 a.m., July 22nd, 1844._ - -Good morning my beloved, my sweet, my darling little Toto. How are you? -Are you less sad and painfully pre-occupied than yesterday, my adored -one? Alas, it is unlikely ... your grief and sorrow are not of those -that time can soften. You have the painful faculty of feeling things far -more acutely than do other men. Genius does not only pertain to the -brain, it belongs above all to the heart. My poor dear one, I love you; -I suffer when you suffer; be merciful to us both, I implore you. - -My little Claire went away this morning. She was more resigned than -usual, for she has a holiday of three days in prospect, beginning next -Saturday. The poor little thing is very devoted to us; her sole -happiness is to be with us. She complains of not seeing you often -enough, and I back her up in that. You must try to give us at least one -evening out of the three she will spend at home. Verily I am not very -cheerful company for the poor child when I am alone with her. I am so -absorbed in my love that sometimes I do not speak to her twice in the -day, however much I try to bring myself to do so. - -I have copied Mery's verses, because I do not wish to deprive -Mademoiselle Dede of his autograph. I can understand her setting store -by it, poor darling, so I shall make a point of returning it to her. -Only (and it is you I am addressing now) you must give me just as many -as you give her. You must not lose your good habits, my darling, for I -am sure it would bring us bad luck. Therefore you must bring me all your -letters as you used to do. I promise to divide them conscientiously with -dear little Dede, and you know quite well that I am a woman of my word. -I adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 4.45 p.m., October 20th, 1844._ - -I have sent to Barbedienne, my adored one, but Suzanne has not yet -returned. I am writing to you meanwhile to make the time hang less -heavy. I hope to goodness I may be able to procure that lovely -medal![92] Since I have glimpsed the chance of possessing it, I feel my -disappointment would be greater than I could bear, if I failed to get -it. Good God, how slowly that girl walks! Fancy having to trust to legs -like those on such an occasion! I could have gone there and back ten -times, since she went. May the devil fly away with her, or rather, -precipitate her right into the middle of my room with his cloven foot, -providing only that she brings the longed-for medal! - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET IN 1846. - -Bust by Victor Vilain (Victor Hugo Museum).] - -Here she is! Ah! Victor, do not be angry! Victor, I am at your -feet--Victor, I will be reasonable for the whole of the rest of my life -if only you will let me add 15 fr. to the sum you promised me. Oh, -Victor, I have not time to wait for your answer and yet I fear to annoy -you. Ah, no, you are too kind to be angry with your poor Juju who loves -you with such absolute admiring, devoted love! You will look at her with -your gentle, ineffable smile, and say I was right--surely, yes, you -will. Three cheers for Toto! Juju is a clever woman ... at heart. Yes, -it is quite true and I am the happiest of women. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 9.30 a.m., September, 1845._ - -I have just been gardening, beloved. I am soaked with dew and all muddy, -but I have spent three hours thinking of you without any bitterness. My -eyes were as moist as my flowers, but I was not weeping. While I busied -myself with the garden, I reviewed in thought the lovely flowers of my -past happiness. I saw them again fresh and blooming as the first day, -and I felt close to you, separated only by a breath. As long as the -illusion lasted I was almost happy. I should have liked to pluck my soul -and send it to you as a nosegay. Perhaps what I am saying is silly, yet -it is the sort of nonsense that can only issue direct from the -tenderest, most passionate heart that ever lived. For nearly thirteen -years past, I have never once written to you without feeling my hand -tremble and my eyes fill. When I speak of you, no matter to whom, my -heart swells as if it would burst through my lips. When I am dead, I am -certain that the imprint of my love will be found on my heart. It is -impossible to worship as I do without leaving some visible trace behind -when life is over. - -My beloved Victor, let your thoughts dwell with me, so that my days may -seem shorter and less dreary; and do try to surprise me by coming -to-night. Oh, how happy I shall be if you do that! - -Meanwhile, I love you more than I can say. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 a.m., September 27th, 1845._ - -Good morning my beloved, my soul, my life, my adored Victor. How are -you? I hope yesterday did not tire you too much. I forgot until you -reminded me that you have been forbidden to walk much, but I do trust it -did you no harm; did it, Victor darling? As for me I felt no fatigue, I -seemed to have wings. I should have liked to place my feet on all the -paths we traversed together eleven years ago, to kiss the very stones of -the roads and the leaves on the trees, and to pick all the flowers in -the woods, so keenly did I fancy they were the very same that watched us -pass together all those years ago. I gazed at you my adored Victor, and -in my eyes you were as young and handsome, nay handsomer even, than -eleven years ago. I looked into my heart and found it full of the same -ecstasy and adoration that animated it the first day I loved you. -Nothing was changed in us or about us. The same ardent, devoted, sad and -sweet affection in our hearts, the same autumn sun and sky above our -heads, the same picture in the same frame; nothing had changed in eleven -years. I would have given a decade of my life to stand alone for ten -minutes in that house that has sheltered our memories for so long. I -should like to have carried away ashes from the fireplace, dust from -the floors. I should have liked to pray and weep, where once I prayed -and wept, to have died of love on the spot where once I accepted your -soul in a kiss. I had to exercise superhuman self-control not to -perpetrate some act of folly in the presence of that girl who showed us -so indifferently over a house I could have purchased at the price of -half the rest of my life. Fortunately, thanks to her profound ignorance -of our identity, she noticed nothing, and we were each able to bring -away a tiny relic of our former happiness. Mine must be buried with me -when I die. - -Beloved, did you work late last night? It was very imprudent of you if -you did, after the fatigue you underwent during the day. To-day, you -must be very careful and not walk much. I shall be extremely stern with -you. My antiquarian propensities shall not make me forget, like -yesterday, that you are still convalescent and must hardly walk at all. -And you will obey me, because little Totos must always obey little -Jujus, as you know. - -Kiss me, my adored Victor, and may God bless you for all the happiness -you give me. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 9 p.m., May 2nd, 1846._ - -I cannot nerve myself to the realisation that I shall not see you this -evening my sweet adored beloved; yet it is all too true. This is the -first time in fourteen years that I have not slept in a room belonging -to you.[93] Consequently I am feeling quite forlorn. Everything -conspires to harrow me. Just now when I left you I longed for death, and -the tears I drove from my eyes trickled inwardly to my sad heart. If -this anxiety about my child, and the separation from you, are to last -long, I do not think I shall have strength to endure them. I am vexed -and disgusted at the tone of those about me. I am ashamed and indignant -at my inability to remove myself from it, however I may try; then when I -remember you, so generous, so loyal, so noble, so kind and indulgent, my -bitterness evaporates and nothing remains in my heart but admiration, -gratitude, and love for your divine and fascinating self. - - * * * * * - -When I got back, I found my child in a raging fever. I gave her fresh -compresses, and now she is sleeping. God grant she may do so all night, -and that the change of ideas and surroundings and air may have a good -effect upon her health. I shall in that case have less cause to grudge -the sacrifices I am voluntarily making to that end. Meanwhile, I am a -prey to fearful anxiety, and am suffering the uttermost from the absence -of what I love best in this world, above life, above duty, above -everything. Good-night, beloved. Think of me. Sleep well, and love me. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 3.45 p.m., 1846._ - -I love you, my Victor. Between every letter of those five sweet words -there lurk depths of maternal anguish and sorrow. Gloomy reflections -mingle with my tenderest thoughts. My life at this moment is divided -between my poor little daughter whom I already mourn in anticipation, -(for I feel that these few days of illness are but snatched from -Eternity), and my adoration for you, from which no preoccupation, even -of the most terrible and sinister character, can long distract me. On -the contrary, my love is all the greater for the trials and sufferings -God sends me. I love you selflessly, as if I myself were already over -the border. My heart is racked, yet I adore you. - -Claire's condition is the same as yesterday; only the weakness, which, -but for the doctor's plain warning I might have attributed to the heat, -has increased. The night was not very bad; the poor little thing suffers -hardly at all. She seems to have no firmer hold on life than life has -upon her. Apathy and profound indifference characterise her illness. -Only her father has the power to rouse her for the few moments he is -with her. He came this morning and happened to meet the doctor,[94] who, -it appears, is not quite so despondent as Monsieur Triger;[95] but what -does that prove? - -I have not been able to get her up at all to-day. She lay in bed in a -state of profuse and constant perspiration. The various tonics she takes -fail to produce any effect whatever. The exhaustion increases hour by -hour, which means that death is coming nearer. I pray, but I obtain -neither solace nor confidence. The good God disdains my prayers and -rejects them, I know--yet I love and admire Him in His beneficent, -lofty, noble, generous and beautiful works. - -I love Him as His saints and angels in Heaven love Him. What more can I -do to find favour in His eyes? He deprived me of my mother at my birth; -now He is about to snatch my child from me. Is that His justice? I do -not want to blaspheme, but I am very miserable, and if I do not see you, -if you cannot come to-day, I do not know what will become of me. Despair -fills my soul, but I love you. God may crush my heart if He so wills, -but the last breath from it shall be a cry of love for you, my sublime -beloved. - -JULIETTE. - - -_April 29th, 9 a.m., 1847._ - -Good morning, my adored Victor. My thoughts and soul and heart go out to -you in this greeting. I hope I shall see you before you go to the -rehearsal, for if I do not, I shall have to wait till this evening, -which would increase my depression. From now until the anniversary of -the terrible day on which I lost my poor child, every hour and minute is -punctuated by the recollection of the sufferings of that poor little -thing, and of the anguish I went through. They are painful memories, -impossible to exclude from my thoughts. Last night while I lay sleepless -I seemed to hear her, and in my dreams I saw her again as she looked at -the close of her illness. I am worn out this morning. All the pangs and -fatigues of the last moments of her life weigh down my heart and limbs. -It may be that I shall find comfort in prayer, and I shall pray better -by her side, buoyed up by the hope that she will hear me and obtain for -me resignation enough to bear her absence without murmur or bitterness. -It was you who gave me the courage to live. All that a heart can gain -from consolation, I found in your love; but there is a grief surpassing -all others and beyond human aid, for which only God can provide, and to -Him I must address myself to-day. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8 a.m., May 6th, 1847._ - -Good morning, my all, my greatly loved Toto. How are you this morning? -Did you gather in a good harvest of glances, smiles and flattery -yesterday from the women you met? Were you the cause of many incipient -passions, or were you yourself ensnared by those females, like any -beardless student or bald-headed peer of the realm? Tell me, how are you -after your evening at Court? For my part, I have a very sore throat and -am feeling fearfully cross. I have a longing to scratch which I should -love to vent upon the face of some woman or even upon yours--or better -still, upon both. I am sick of playing the gentle, sheep-like woman. I -intend to become as fierce as a hyena, and to make your life and -everything depending upon it a burthen to you. I mean to make a terrible -example of you, so that people shall say as you pass by, that it is a -woman who has been outraged, but a Juju who has avenged herself! -Meanwhile, to begin with, I am going to wrest from you somehow, two silk -dresses, a lovely hat, two pairs of smart shoes; and if you do not -confess your crime, I will punish you to the tune of torrents of -tea-gowns, pocket-handkerchiefs, and silk stockings. I am capable of -anything if you drive me too far. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Tuesday, 12.45 p.m., June 6th, 1848._ - -The more I think of all that is going on in Paris at this moment, my -beloved, the less do I desire the success of your election.[96] We must -let this frenzy of the populace which knows not what it wants and is in -no condition to distinguish the true from the false, or evil from good, -exhaust itself first. When it is worn out with turning in its own -vicious circle of disorder, violence, and misery, it will come to heel -and humbly crave the assistance of incorruptible, strong, sane -politicians, among whom you are the most incorruptible, the strongest, -and the sanest. I say this in the simplicity of my heart, without any -pretension to be other than a mere woman who loves you above all things, -and trembles lest you should enter upon some undertaking that might -jeopardise your life without saving your country. Therefore I pray that -this candidature, to which you have been driven in self-sacrifice and -generosity, may not succeed. If I am unpatriotic, I accept the blame, -but I do think that in this instance my feeling is in accord with the -best interests of France. It would not be the first time that the heart -has proved cleverer than the brain. It has happened too often in my case -for me to marvel. Pending our next meeting, I kiss you from my soul, I -adore you with all my strength. - -JULIETTE. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO, REPUBLICAIN. - -Political caricature, 1848.] - -_Monday, 9 a.m., July 9th, 1849._ - -I am hurrying, my love, for I wish to be at the door of the Assemblee at -noon precisely, in order to secure a good place.[97] I wish the great -moment had arrived, for I am already feeling stage-fright, and it will -go on increasing until I see you descend from the tribune. I thought -this morning that I could not experience any other sensation than -happiness at seeing you, but now I begin to understand what fear is. Yet -when I say fear, I am hardly correct; for I mean something more -indefinite, which is rather the suspense before a great joy, than the -stupid emotion of cowardice or funk. In any case, I am very agitated; I -wander aimlessly about the house, and feel as if the longed-for moment -would never arrive. My blessed love, my great Victor, my sublime -beloved, I kiss in spirit your noble forehead with its generous -thoughts, your beautiful eyes so gentle and powerful, your fascinating -mouth, which has the happiness of speaking all your divine thoughts. I -prostrate myself before the most beautiful and most sublime thing in the -whole world, namely, your dear little person and your profound genius. - -I do not ask you to think of me before your speech, adored one, but -afterwards I entreat you to spare me one glance to complete my -happiness. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Wednesday, 12.30, February 6th, 1850._ - -Think of me, my adored one, and do not permit yourself to be ensnared by -the mercenary blandishments of that woman.[98] I am in the throes of a -jealousy so terrible, that the hardest heart would be moved to pity, -and the most intrepid would fear me; for I am suffering, and I am -capable of anything to avenge a despicable treachery. Alas, my poor -adored one, this is not what I should like to say, or what I ought to -say. I realise that threats are powerless to hold you. I believe if the -statistics of infidelity could be drawn up like those of crime, it would -be shown that the severe penalties of the code of love are more apt to -drive lovers into breaches of its laws than to bind them together. I am -sure of it, and I wish I could convert my natural ferocity into bland -indifference, in order to remove from you the stimulant of a forbidden -Rachel; but it is no good--I shall never manage it. Therefore, I implore -you for the sake of your personal safety and mine, to be honourable and -prudent in your dramatic relations with that dangerous and perfidious -Jewess. Try not to prolong your literary and theatrical consultation -beyond the strictly necessary limits, and to come and fetch me before -three o'clock. - -I should be so grateful to you, my adored little man, for you would thus -abridge the moments of my torment. Meanwhile I am very unhappy and -anxious and worried. I try to hearten myself up by remembering the last -promises you made me. When do you intend to keep them, I wonder? God -knows! - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 a.m., April 6th, 1850._ - -Good morning, my adored one, my sublime beloved. How are you? Did you -have a better night, or did fatigue and excitement prevent you from -sleeping? When I think of the admirable speech, so religious in -character, so noble, self-abnegating, and conciliating, that you -delivered yesterday[99] at the risk of your health, and then reflect -upon the senseless uproar, and idiotic and violent interruptions it -provoked, I feel only hatred, contempt, and disgust, for political life. -It is revolting that a man like you should be the butt of the -irresponsibility of all the parties. It is hateful, abominable, -infamous, that scoundrels without talent, wit, or feeling should dare -argue with you and should be accorded an attentive hearing where you -only meet with insults. Really, my treasure, the more I see of political -life, the more I regret the time when you were simply the _poet_ Victor -Hugo, my sublime love, my radiant lover. I revere your courage and -devotion, but I am hurt in my tenderest feelings when I see you -delivered over to the beasts of an arena a thousand times less -discriminating than that of ancient Rome. Therefore, my beloved Victor, -I have conceived a loathing, not only for your antagonists, but also for -the form of government which imposes this Sisyphus life upon you. If I -had the power to change it, I can assure you I should not hesitate, even -if I had to deprive you for ever of your rights of citizenship. -Unfortunately, I can do nothing beyond cordially detesting those who -obstruct your work. I pity you, bless you, admire you, and love you with -all my soul. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 3 p.m., June 29th, 1850._ - -I have just watched you go with inexpressible sadness, my sweet and -beautiful beloved. With you have departed the sunshine, the flowers, -the pleasant thoughts, the hopes that link past happiness with future -bliss. Nought remains to me but my love, a poor hermit whose regrets -have been her sole bedfellows this long time. When you turned the corner -of the street, something luminous, soft, and sweet, seemed to die within -me. From that moment I have been as depressed and desolate as if a great -misfortune had befallen me. Alas, it is in fact the misfortune that -weighs down my whole life, namely, your absence. Since politics have -monopolised your time, happiness has eluded my grasp. Will it ever -return? I doubt it, hence my despair. I am greatly to be commiserated, -my beloved, in that I have constituted your eyes my illumination, your -smile my joy, your words my bliss, your love my life--so that when you -are away, all these are simultaneously snatched from me. I am not -certain of seeing you to-night, still less to-morrow. What is to become -of me? What am I to do with this poor body bereft of its soul when you -are not by? Tell me if you can. Explain if you dare. Meanwhile, I adore -you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 10 p.m., July 7th, 1851._ - -What I had foreseen has happened, my beloved, even sooner and more -painfully than I had feared. Does this fresh crisis foreshadow my speedy -recovery? I dare not hope it, for I feel that my disease is incurable. I -tell you so in the frankness of my despair. I neither can nor will -deceive you, beloved, and my anxiety, far from diminishing, augments -with every minute. I am suffering the torment of the most humiliating -and poignant jealousy. I know that for seven years you have _adored_ a -woman you think beautiful, witty and accomplished.[100] I know that but -for her sudden treachery,[101] she would still be your preferred -mistress. I know that you introduced her into your family-circle, that -she is of your world, that you can meet her at any moment, that you -promised her you would continue your intimacy with her, at all events -outwardly. All this I know--yet you expect me to feel my own position -secure! Surely I should need to be idiotic or insane to do that. Alas, I -happen to be instead a very clear-sighted, miserable woman. - - -_Midnight._ - -Beloved, thanks to you and thanks to your tender perseverance and -inexhaustible kindness, I am once more, and this time for ever I hope, -the sensible, sanguine, happy Juju of the good old days. But if I am to -be quite as I was then, you must suffer no longer, my little man--you -must be as strong as three Turks, and love me as much as a hundred -Swiss-guards. On those conditions I shall be happy! happy!! happy!!!, -but pending that great day, try to sleep soundly to-night, not to be -unwell to-morrow, and to forgive me for loving you too much. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 p.m., July 26th, 1851._ - -I trust you, my beloved, and believe everything you say. I yield my soul -to the hopes of happiness you have held out to me. My heart is full of -love and security. I love you, I am happy, I am at peace, I forget all I -have suffered. I remember only the tender, loyal, encouraging words you -uttered just now. Felicity has succeeded despair--I quit hell and enter -Paradise. I love you and you love me, nothing can be sad any more. You -will see how I shall resume my interest in life, how I shall smile, how -happy I shall be, and what confidence I shall have in you. I do not know -whether we shall be able to carry out all the adorable plans you -sketched just now, but I experienced great happiness in anticipation -while I watched you making them, and knew myself so closely associated -with them. I felt as if all my past sorrows were transfigured into -happiness to come. I listened, and my heart was filled with joy. Thank -you, my Victor, thank you, my beloved. Do not be anxious about me any -more; now that you love me I shall get well. I shall be happy again, you -will see. I am beginning already, so as to lose no time in rewarding you -for your goodness and gentleness and patience. I am awaiting you with my -sweetest smiles, my tenderest caresses. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Monday, 12.45 p.m., July 28th, 1851._ - -This is the hour I begin to expect you, my Victor; each second that lags -past with the slowness of eternity crushes my hopes as quickly as I -conceive them. What is to become of me all this wretched day if I may -not see you? Oh, I thought myself stronger, braver, more resigned; but -now I see I have used up all my strength in the horrible struggle I -have been going through this last month. What will happen to me, shut up -here, all alone with that terrible anniversary, the 28th June, 1851? How -can I evade its ghastly grip, how keep myself from suicide, from the -desperate hankering after death? Oh, God, how I suffer! I implore you, -do not leave me alone here to-d....[102] - - -_Midnight._ - -This letter, which was begun in delirium and mad jealousy has ended, -thanks to you my ineffable beloved, in the happy calm of confidence and -the sacred joy of love shared. May you be blest, my Victor, as much as -you are respected, venerated, adored, and admired by me--then you will -have nothing further to desire in this world or the next. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Saturday, 8 a.m., August 2nd, 1851._ - -Good morning, man that I love; good morning, with all my joy and smiles -and soul and happiness and love, if you had a good night and are well. I -felt sure your dear Charles' depression could not stand against an hour -of your gentle and persuasive philosophy. You have the marvellous art of -extracting good from evil, and consolation from despair, and there is -irresistible magic in your eyes and smile; your every word is full of -seduction. I, who only linger in this life in the hope of seeing you -every day, should know something of that. What the joys of eternity in -Paradise may be I cannot tell, but I would sacrifice them all for one -minute of your true love. My Victor, my Victor, I love you. You will see -how sensible I am going to be, and how I shall give way to all the -exigencies of your work, and the consideration required by your position -as a political personage. I am ready, my Victor; dispose of me how you -will; whether happy or unhappy, I shall bless you. I trust the bad -atmosphere you were compelled to breathe for several hours yesterday did -not injure your throat. I am eagerly awaiting this afternoon to learn -this, and to see you. Until then, I love you, I love you, I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Friday morning, September 12th, 1851._ - -Good morning, and forgive me my poor sweet beloved, for nothing was -further from my thoughts than to torment you as I involuntarily did -yesterday. My foolishness does not include malice, and I respect you -even in my most violent bouts of despair. Besides, you had just been -telling me something that ought to increase my clinging to life, namely, -my responsibility for your tranquillity, your fortune, your genius and -existence. Without accepting in its entirety this exaggerated view of my -own importance in the grave situation you find yourself in, my -persecuted love, I have grasped that I should be unworthy of the -position, were I to allow my troubles to weigh in the balance, against -your safety. Therefore, my Victor, you have nothing to fear from me, so -long as my poor brain retains a glimmer of reason, and my wretched heart -a scrap of confidence in your loyalty. - -I spent part of the night reading over your old letters, especially -those of _May 1844_,[103] and I shed more tears over your desecrated -tenderness and sullied affection, than you can have squandered kisses -upon that woman, during the seven years of your treachery to me. If life -could escape through the eyes, my sufferings would long ere this be -terminated; but like sorrow, the soul is not so quickly exhausted, -though God only knows where it finds sustenance. As for me, my adored -one, I love you without being able either to live or to be healed. I am -ashamed of my incurability, and I gratefully compassionate the -superhuman efforts you make to restore me to courage. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 10.45 p.m., October 23rd, 1851._ - -You know my dear little man, that I need no encouragement to give way to -epistolary intemperance. When time permits, I am always ready to fling -myself unrestrainedly into a sea of lucubrations without sense or end. -But this time I have more than a mere pretext for giving rein to my -harmless mania; I have two days full of the most radiant joy and -happiness that could befall a woman who lives only by and for her love. -Whole volumes would not suffice to enumerate and describe them, and even -your sublime genius would not be too great to express the splendid -poetry of them. I felt as if a little winged soul sprang from each one -of our embraces and flew heavenward with cries of jubilation and joy. -Your love penetrated my soul and warmed it, as the rays of the sun -pierce through the fogs and melancholy of autumn, and reach the earth -to console it and lay the blessed seed of hope within her womb. I -rejoiced in the bliss, watered by tears, that precedes and follows love -and sunshine, in that season of life and nature. Though my heart is -bestrewn with the dead leaves of past illusions, I feel new sap rising -within it, which awaits only your vivifying breath to bring forth the -flowers and fruits of love. - -My adored Victor, my soul overflows with the accumulated joys of those -two days of life by your side under the eye of God. I relieve myself as -best I can by pouring out the surplus of my enchantment upon this paper. -Sleep well, my adored one, I love you and bless you. - -JULIETTE. - - -_Thursday, 8 a.m., November 6th, 1851._ - -Good morning, my sweetheart, my adored one. I wish my kisses had wings, -that you might find them on your pillow at your awakening. If you only -knew how much I love you, you would understand that for me there is -life, heart, and soul, only in you, by you, and for you. Yesterday when -I passed your old house in the Place Royale, all the memories of our -love and happiness awoke again within me. I stood awhile before it, -caressing its threshold with my eyes, fingering the knocker, pushing the -door ajar to peer in, as I should look at the inside of a reliquary, or -touch some sacred object. Then I went into the garden to gaze up at the -windows whence you sometimes looked down upon me. I wandered all about -the district in the same sweet, sad tremor I experience when I read over -your old love-letters. I traced our past happiness upon every stone of -the pavement, at every street-corner, on the shop-signs--everywhere I -found memories of our kisses among those surroundings where I enjoyed -happiness for so long, where you loved me and I adored you--where, eight -years ago, I would gladly have lain me down to die if God had left me -the choice. - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Wednesday, 1 p.m., December 17th, 1851_. - -Beloved one, I wish the first sheet of paper I use, the first word I -write, in this hospitable country, to be a message of love from me to -you. It is surely the least I can do, since my every thought, my life -and heart and soul, pass through you before reaching the common objects -of this world and returning to me. Is it indeed possible that you are -safe, my poor treasure, and that I have nothing further to fear for your -life or liberty? Is it true that you love me, and that you deign to rely -upon me in the difficult passages of life? Is it conceivable that I am -henceforth happy and blest among women, and that I have the right to -raise my head and bask openly in the sunlight of love and -self-sacrifice! Ah, God, I thank Thee for all the gifts and joys and -blessings Thou dost bestow upon me to-day, in the revered and adored -person of my sublime beloved! All my efforts shall be directed towards -deserving them more and more. All my gratitude is for Thee, my God! - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Wednesday, 3.30 p.m., December 17th, 1851_. - -Do not worry about me, my beloved, for I never love you better or more -tranquilly than when I know you are attending to your family duties and -busying yourself with securing the peace and comfort of your wife and -children. Pray devote yourself entirely to the service of your noble -wife for the time of her sojourn here. Do not deny her any of the little -pleasures that may divert her mind from the heavy trials she has just -undergone. Let my resignation and courage, my consideration and -devotion, help to smooth the rough places of life for her as long as she -remains with you. Give her all the consolation and joy in your power. -Lavish upon her the respect and affection she deserves, and do not fear -ever to wear out my patience and trust in you. - -I see you coming my adored one. Bless you. - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Monday, 3.30 p.m., January 19th, 1852._ - -I had set myself a task, beloved, before writing to you, in order to -earn that sweet reward. I have just completed it, and without further -delay I proceed with my insignificant vapourings, in the intervals of -copying two most interesting stories. I am not writing for your benefit, -but for the pleasure it gives me to babble a few tender words to you in -default of the kisses and caresses I cannot give you at this distance. - -My Victor, as you do not wish me to be sad, and hate to feel that I am -unhappy, and dread the sight of my pain, you must adopt the habit of -telling me everything frankly and under all circumstances. Your -deceptions, however trivial and kindly meant, hurt me far more than the -harshest of truths (if you were capable of harshness towards any -creature). I declare this without bitterness and in the form of an -appeal, my beloved. Do not hide anything from me. Try to manage that -your answers to the admiring letters certain women address to you, -should be written at my house rather than elsewhere. Do not delay -telling me things until I have guessed them for myself, or circumstances -have betrayed them. No hints can be unimportant where jealousy is -concerned, and there is no happiness without complete confidence. -Therefore, my beloved, I implore you with all the urgency my soul is -capable of, to tell me everything--even the ownership of those _opera -glasses_, and about the _Huegelmann_ notes, of which I have several here, -forwarded from Belle-Ile, and certain names and addresses; and about -those actresses you protect with so much solicitude, and the -machinations of the bluestockings who apply to you for mysterious -nocturnal interviews, under pretext of enlisting your pity or your -literary sympathy--about Mdlle. Constance, too, in spite of her -significant name and reassuring age. I want to know everything--I must -know everything, if you are really concerned for my peace of mind, and -health, and happiness. Then I shall become calm, patient, happy; my -pulse will beat evenly, I shall grow fat and smiling. Does not all that -make it worth while for you to be frank, loyal, and ever faithful -towards me? - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Monday, 1 p.m., March 22nd, 1852_. - -You may give me something to copy for you now if you like. I have nearly -finished that foolish scrawl, so if you want to utilise my time, you can -send me anything you like. I am quite at your disposal. Meanwhile, I am -mending your underlinen and my own, and watching the clouds sail above -my narrow horizon. I envy them without having the courage to follow -their example and allow myself to be driven by chance winds or caprice. -I am too lazy, bodily and mentally, to move. I recline in my chimney -corner, cosily humped up, and my soul lies torpid within me. I am not -exactly unhappy, neither am I sad in the true meaning of the word--but I -am uneasy and depressed. I feel a threatening influence in the -atmosphere about me. What it is, I cannot precisely say, but I am under -some evil thrall. I am sure there is a mystery between us that you are -trying to conceal, and that fate will force me to discover sooner or -later. Perhaps it would be safer not to try to hide things from me--it -would certainly be more loyal and generous; but as neither prayers nor -tears can induce you to give me your full confidence, I will await my -fate with resignation. After all, as long as you arrange your life to -suit your own feelings and tastes, I have no right to complain. I have -never meant to force myself upon you in any case; therefore, my Victor, -whatever happens, you may be sure I shall place no obstacle in the way -of your happiness and glory. I love you with all the pride of my -inferiority. - -JULIETTE. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Sunday morning, July 18th, 1852_. - -Good-morning, my Victor. I will do exactly as you like. So long as my -love is not called into question, what does it matter how, and when, my -body changes its _habitat_ and moves from Brussels to Jersey? Therefore, -my Victor, I make no objection to starting at the same time as you. -Between the pain of a twenty-four hours' separation, and the -mortification of travelling with you as a total stranger, my poor heart -would find it hard to choose. It is quite natural that I should -sacrifice myself to appearances, and respect the presence of your sons -by this painful incognito, but it seems cruelly unjust and ironical that -it should be required of my devotion and fidelity and love, when it was -never thought of in the case of that other woman, whose sole virtue -consisted in possessing none. For her, the family doors were always -open, the deference and courteous protection of your sons exacted; your -wife extended to her the cloak of her consideration, and accepted her as -a friend, a sister, and more. For her, indulgence, sympathy, -affection--for me, the rigorous application of all the penalties -contained in the code of prejudice, hypocrisy, and immorality. Honours -for the shameless vices of the society lady--only indignities for the -poor creature who sins through honest devotion and love. It is quite -simple. Society must be considered. I will leave for Jersey when and how -you will. - -I am quite ready to copy for Charles. I fear he may find my bad writing -more tiresome than useful, but I shall do my best, and I will get some -better pens. He had better send me the manuscript as soon as possible. -From now till then I am, my Victor, at your absolute disposal. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Thursday, 9 a.m., December 2nd, 1852_. - -Good morning, my divine, adored love. When one considers what the -infamous trap laid for you on December 2nd has inspired you to write, -one is tempted to give thanks to Providence. It almost seems as if that -dastardly crime had been committed for the aggrandisement of your -renown, and the better instruction of the nations. I do not think any -scoundrel will ever be found bold enough to repeat the offence, after -reading your fulminating poems. Just a year ago, on this day and at this -hour, I learnt the news of the _Coup d'etat_ through poor Dillon. -Knowing how closely it concerned me, the worthy creature rushed to my -house from the Faubourg St. Germain to warn me, and place her services -at my disposal, which meant at yours, for she is a brave, noble woman. -From that moment until the day I received your dear letter from Brussels -announcing your safety, I lived in a state of nightmare. I only woke -again to life and happiness when I found myself in your arms on the -morning of December 14th in the Customs shed at Brussels. Since then, my -beloved Victor, my sublime Victor, I have never let a day pass without -thanking God for rescuing you so miraculously, nor have I ceased for one -minute to admire and adore you. - -JULIETTE. - -[Illustration: DRAWING BY VICTOR HUGO, SIGNED "TOTO." - -Unpublished, belonging to the Author.] - -[Illustration: THE FLOWER AND THE BUTTERFLY. - -Drawing by Victor Hugo for Juliette (Victor Hugo Museum).] - - -JERSEY, -_Friday, 9 a.m., December 3rd, 1852_. - -Good morning, my life, my soul, my joy, my happiness. - -Dear adored one, from yesterday until the 14th of this month, there is -not a moment that does not recall to me the dangers you were exposed to -a year ago,[104] and the terrors and inexpressible anguish I endured all -through those awful ten days. A year ago, at this very hour of the -morning, you stood in the Faubourg St. Antoine, alone, holding and -challenging a frantic mob lost to all sense of reason and restraint. I -can see you now, my poor beloved, calling upon the soldiers to remember -their duty and their honour, threatening the generals, withering them -with your contempt. You were terrible and sublime. You might have been -the Genius of France witnessing in an agony of bitter despair, the -accomplishment of the most cowardly and despicable of crimes. It is an -absolute miracle that you escaped alive from that spot which echoed with -the solitary force of your heroic fury. When I think of it I still feel -terrified and dazzled. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Saturday, 8 a.m., November 27th, 1852_. - -Good morning, my poor flayed, mutilated darling. How I pitied you -yesterday during the long-drawn-out massacre of your masterpiece,[105] -which however, like an Immortal, emerged from the ordeal finer and in -better fettle than ever. As for me, my treasure, I could only admire and -envy your heroic impassivity in the face of that frightful profanation. -I could hardly sit still, so vexed and irritated did I feel at the -audacity of those wretched strolling mountebanks. Yet Heaven knows how -hard they must have worked to be even as ridiculous as they were. One -cannot be really angry with them, but it is impossible to recall them -individually without laughing till the tears run down one's cheeks. That -is what I have been doing ever since I came out of that horrible little -theatre, for I did not sleep very much. My thoughts were busy with you, -my adored one; I was seeing you again in imagination, handsome, young, -triumphant, as you were at the original performance of your _Angelo_. I -felt all the tenderness and adoration of those old days surging up again -in my heart. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Monday, 8 a.m., December 29th, 1852_. - -Good morning, my too-dearly loved little man. I am cleverer than you, -for I do not need lenses, paper, chemicals, and sunshine, to reproduce -you in every form within my heart. Love is a splendid stereoscope; it -throws all the photographs and daguerreotypes in the world, into the -shade. It can even, if the need exist, convert black jealousy into white -confidence, and force into relief the smallest modicum of happiness, -the slightest mark of love. That being so, I hardly know why I desire so -ardently to multiply your dear little pictures around me, unless it is -that I wish to compare them with those of my inner shrine. Whatever be -the reason, I do implore you, my dear little man, to give me one as soon -as possible; it will be such a pleasure to me. Meanwhile my poor -persecuted hero, I cannot tell what trials the future may have in store -for you, but as long as a breath of life remains within me, I mean to -expend it in defending, guarding, and serving you. My faith in the power -of my love amounts to superstition; I feel that so long as I care for -you, nothing irretrievably bad can happen to you. This is neither pride -nor fatuousness on my part; it is a sort of intuition that comes to me, -I think, from Heaven above. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_9 p.m., Thursday, January 6th, 1853_. - -If the soul could take visible shape, you would perceive mine at this -moment, my sweet adored one, bending over you and smiling. If kisses had -wings, you would feel them swooping about your dear little person in -clouds, like joyous birds upon a beautiful flowering bush. -Unfortunately, my soul and kisses have to pass and repass before you -invisible, and perhaps even unsuspected by you. But that does not deter -me, and I am drawn irresistibly to you by the need of living in your -atmosphere. My thoughts sit boldly at your side wherever you are. -However my chastened personality may bend under the contempt and -disdain of the world, my love rears itself proudly in the consciousness -of its superiority. While you leave my body standing outside, it enters -hardily with you and leaves you not. This may not be very tactful of me, -but it is the mark of an ardent and loyal heart. And after all we are -living "on an Island." I can see you, making eyes at your neighbour on -the left, and signalling to the one opposite. I want you to be mine -absolutely, body and soul, and I do not mean to share one little bit of -you with anybody. You must make up your mind to that, and content -yourself with enjoying the cosmopolitan cookery of that Hungarian -Lucullus.[106] I will allow you to gorge like four Englishmen and drink -like one Pole, but I shall not take my eyes off you and shall watch your -every movement. I think you laugh a great deal for a grave man with a -handsome mouth, and your hands are enough to bring a blush of envy to -the paws of all those exiled females! They suffer by comparison--so much -the better! Hold your tongue, drink, turn your head my way at once, and -keep it there. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Tuesday, 12.30 p.m., February 1st, 1853_. - -I really mean what I said just now, my dear little boy. Instead of -posing interminably in front of the daguerreotype,[107] you could quite -well have taken me for a walk if you had wanted to. Anyhow, pretexts for -keeping away from me will never fail you, and the fine weather will now -add many to those already on your list. Therefore I ask you in all good -faith, what use am I to you in this island, apart from my functions of -copyist? I do not wish to reopen this eternal discussion in which you -never tell me the truth, yet I shall never cease to protest against a -state of things so foreign to true love, and so little conducive to my -happiness. And now, my dear little man, you may amuse yourself, and make -daguerreotypes, and enjoy the glorious sunshine in your own way. I, for -my part, shall make use of solitude, desertion, and shadow, to bring to -a head an attack of depression which will easily develop into a great -big sorrow. I shall study how to make the most of it. Meanwhile I smile -prettily at you, after the fashion of a stage dancer executing the final -pirouette which has exhausted her strength and left her breathless. -Brrrr.... Long live Toto! Long live worries and all their kith and kin! -Long live love! - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Thursday, 9 p.m., April 28th, 1853_. - -I come to you, my beloved, as you are unable to return to me this -evening. I come to tell you I love you without regret for the past or -fear for the future. I come to you with a smile on my lips and a -blessing in my bosom, with my hand upon my mutilated heart and my eyes -full of pardon, with my purity restored and my soul redeemed by twenty -years of fidelity and love, with my delusions swept away and my faith -shining. I come to you without rancour, sustained by divine hope. I -come with the maternal devotion and the passionate tenderness of a -lover, with a mind instinct with reverence and admiration, a resignation -and piety like to those of God's martyrs, and I constitute you the -supreme arbiter of my fate. Do with me what you will in this life, so -long as you take me with you in the next. I sacrifice my feelings to the -virtue of your wife and the innocence of your daughter, as a homage and -a safeguard, and I reserve my prayers and tears for poor fallen women -like myself. Lastly, my adored one, I give you my share of Paradise in -exchange for your chances of hell, considering myself fortunate to have -purchased your eternal bliss with my eternal love. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Thursday, 5 p.m., July 7th, 1853_. - -Whatever you may say, my sweet one, to retard the gradual cessation of -my daily yarns, you cannot stay the progress of the natural law, even -when assisted by my passive submission to your will. Why continue this -custom of writing to you twice a day, when the pretext for doing so has -faded from our joint lives? If I were a woman of parts, I could -substitute imagination and shrewd observation for love-making; but as -these are entirely lacking in me, I have nothing to record in those -bulletins where kisses and caresses once occupied the chief place. Now, -when I have said good morning and alluded to the state of the weather, I -have nothing more to say, because I am stupid. Your influence alone can -extract what is in my heart. For this reason, my dear one, these -scribbles became blank and aimless, from the moment the happiness that -once dictated them began to die away and degenerate into a friendship -despoiled of all pleasure and voluptuousness. I do not reproach you, my -adored one, any more than I reproach myself for not being still the -woman you loved beyond everything--still it might be better to -discontinue this daily record of the change, and to give up the piteous -babblings which no longer have even the excuse of wit. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Saturday, 2.30 p.m., September 24th_. - -How one's brain scintillates from living for ever within four walls! -What sparkling and varied incidents one experiences in this existence of -a squirrel in a cage! For my part I am so inspired by it that I hardly -know where to commence. Let us, therefore, proceed in due sequence; my -cat, which has been slumbering for the last two hours on its right ear, -has just turned over on to its left. - -Pere Nicotte, abandoning the ploughshare, announces for Thursday, -September 29th, the sale by auction of three fat hogs, a sow with her -eight sucking pigs, three yearling bulls, another rising two, and other -items too numerous and too peculiar to enumerate. - -Births: August 5th. Blanche Laura, daughter of Mr. Harper Richard Hugo. - -The annual dinner of the Society will take place on the above-mentioned -day. Those intending to be present, and those proposing to furnish fruit -for the same, are urgently requested to send in their names on or -before the preceding Saturday. - -What more do you want? Eleven pigs, not including the sow, three -yearling bulls, not including the one rising two, a daughter of your -own, and permission to invite yourself to a dinner of the Society, and -even to furnish the fruit for it. If all this does not attract you and -stir the very marrow of your bones, and tempt your appetite, you must be -dead to the promptings of sensibility, paternity, and sensuality. In -that case, go to bed and to sleep, and leave me to myself--the more so, -as I do not happen to possess an accommodating table,[108] to furnish me -with ready-made apparitions. Remember, I have to be my own Dante, AEsop, -and Shakspere, whereas you catch the dead fish that the spirits of the -other world attach to your lines--a proceeding practised in the -Mediterranean long before those tittle-tattling tables were thought of. -Pray accept my most tender sentiments. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Sunday, 10 a.m., January 1st, 1854_. - -I love you so much, my darling, that I cannot find anything else to say -to you. My poor spirit is ready to give way under the weight of too much -love, like a bough bending under an abnormal show of fruit; but my heart -has strength enough to bear without flinching the infinite tenderness, -admiration, and adoration I feel for you. - -What a letter, my adored one! I read it with my heart in my eyes. It -seemed to penetrate word by word like sun-rays into the very marrow of -my bones. My Victor, your hopes are mine, your will, mine, your faith, -mine; I am what you deserve that I should be; I live only for you and in -you. To love you, serve you, reverence you, adore you, are my only -aspirations in this world. Where you are, I shall be; where you -struggle, I shall watch; when you suffer I shall pray, when you are -threatened I will defend you, save you, or die. I tell you all this -pell-mell and anyhow, my adored Victor, for it is impossible for me to -discipline my thoughts when they fly in your direction--they are less -amenable to common sense than to my heart and soul, which are in ecstasy -since this morning. I know not what trials may still be in store for -you, my sublime, persecuted love, but I can answer for my own courage -and devotion to you. Like you I associate our two angels with all my -prayers and hopes and joys and love. I constitute them your guardian -angels and to them I confide your life, that is, mine, your heart, that -is, my happiness. I send you enough kisses to make a connecting-rod from -my mouth to yours. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Monday, 7.30 p.m., July 21st, 1856_. - -It shall not be said that your adored name ever appeared before me in -its dazzling nimbus without being saluted by my heart with a triple -salvo of love, oh, my dearly beloved, and without the outpouring of all -the perfume of my soul at your divine feet. Although I am very tired, -almost ill, I cannot let this day pass without giving you my tenderest, -sweetest, most love-laden greetings. Others may bring you flowers and -pay you handsome compliments, but I offer you twenty-three years of -tried fidelity free of human stain. It is all I have to bestow--it may -be insignificant, but it is my all. Such a thing cannot be bought; it is -accounted among the treasures of God. In His keeping you will find it, -when the gifts of Heaven shall replace those of Earth. Meanwhile, to -show you that I still belong to this sphere, I send you my beautiful -violet robe brocaded with gold; but I specially stipulate that it should -form part of the decoration of your own room, rather than that you -should hang it in the gallery. Still, if you prefer to use it elsewhere -I leave you free to do as you like, for your pleasure is my sole desire. -You must not imagine that my generosity is entirely disinterested, -because that would be a great mistake. I am sure you would not wish to -remain in my debt, and that you will therefore give me a little drawing -for your birthday. This is my request--now bring me your cheeks that I -may kiss them without stint, and do be discreet to-night with the women -who will come to offer you birthday greetings! Keep your heart entire -and intact for me. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Friday, 1.45 p.m., December 12th, 1856._ - -Adored one, I am sending Suzanne to get news of your dear little sick -child.[109] Although night is coming on, I hope I may get a good report; -this weather is enough to give an attack of nerves to anybody at all -disposed that way. You saw Suzanne yourself, my darling, yet someone is -knocking--fancy if it should be you! It is! What happiness! - -How good, how ineffably good you are, dear kind father, to have come -yourself to reassure me about the little feverish symptoms that are -beginning to show themselves to-night in your little girl's condition. -Let us hope they will yield to remedies this time, and that the night -may prove more calm and satisfactory than the day just passed. Meanwhile -thank you with all my heart, thank you with all my soul, for allowing me -to share your family hopes and fears and joys and troubles. Thank you. -If God hears and grants my prayers, as I trust with sacred confidence He -will, your adored child will soon be restored to health and happiness. - -JULIETTE. - -GUERNSEY, -_Monday, 7.30 p.m., April 13th, 1857_. - -If you say another word I shall seize them all,[110] so there! I shall -certainly not place my house, my rooms, my old age, my tables, chairs, -carpets, water, ink, my virtue, great and small, at your disposal, to be -rewarded by seeing masterpieces pass under my very nose on their way to -Teleki, Mademoiselle Alix, and other trollops of her calibre. I must -have some too; castles, moonlight scenes, sunrises, and fog effects. If -you are not prepared for a quarrel, you must give me at least my share. -Ah, here you come! I am not sorry to see you.... - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Saturday, 4 p.m., July 1st, 1857_. - -Darling beloved, I begin my letter in the hope of its being interrupted -shortly, and completed this evening with a lighter heart; but I so need -to love you that I must take the initiative, my adored one. I have just -read the sad, tender poems you gave me to copy. I see you coming.... - -_8.45 p.m._ - -I have just finished copying those adorable verses, so poignant through -their very restraint,[111] and I weep for my own grief as well as yours, -my poor afflicted friends. The shadow which has fallen across your lives -is black night in my case, for all the radiant joys of family life were -wiped out with the death of my only child. When I think of my forlorn -infancy bereft of father and mother, and of what my deathbed will be, -without the loving tears of a child of my own, I feel as if a curse were -laid upon me for the expiation of some hideous crime. Yet, oh God, I am -not ungrateful to Thee, far from it; I feel indeed with the deepest -gratitude of heart and soul how good Thou art! May you be as greatly -blest as you are loved by me, my Victor. You are divinely grand and -sublime. I kiss your dear little feet and your angel's wings. I worship -you on my knees. - -JULIETTE. - - -JERSEY, -_Tuesday, 2.30 p.m., July 2nd, 1857_. - -Yes, since you wish to hear it, I love you, my little man; but I could -demonstrate it much more intelligently by working something for you on -canvas, than by daubing this poor little sheet of paper with -hieroglyphics. If perchance death should surprise us before you have -destroyed these crude ebullitions of my heart, inquisitive folk will -experience keen disappointment; they will find it difficult to -distinguish the traces of an overmastering passion in such a petty mind -as mine. I hope you will be provident enough and generous enough to -spare me this humiliation beyond the grave, by burning gradually all -those poor letters that are so ineffective the moment they have crossed -the threshold of my soul. Meanwhile I continue to obey you with entire -submission, and my love for you is greater than your genius--that is to -say, I love you, love you, love you, without being able to find anything -to compare with the magnitude of my infatuation. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Saturday, 8 p.m., December 19th, 1857_. - -Although unwell and fatigued, my beloved Victor, I cannot leave this -little home where we have loved each other, without penning a grateful -farewell for all the felicity it has sheltered during the year I have -lived in it. I trust I may be as happy in my beautiful new house as I -have been here in my hovel. The sadness I feel to-day is nearer akin to -nerves than to real sorrow. Please forgive it, my adored Victor, if you -have misunderstood and thought for a single instant that you were to -blame for it. Far from reproaching you for the difficulties of my -situation, I admire your ineffable kindness and bless you from the -bottom of my heart for all the trouble you are taking to house me -handsomely. It was difficult, but of what are you not capable when you -set your mind to a thing? I think without affecting the false modesty of -a collector, that you have succeeded, and I thank you with all the -strength of my loving soul, which asks no better than to be happy in the -new paradise you have just prepared for me. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Friday, 11 a.m., July 16th, 1858_. - -My beloved, my beloved, my beloved, what sin have we committed that God -should strike us so cruelly in your health and my love! Unless it be a -crime to love you too much, I do not feel guilty of aught. What shall I -do, my God, what will become of me! Victor ill and away from me! I dread -lest, as I write, you should almost hear my sobs and guess at my -despair, from these reckless words. - -I had anticipated this trouble and thought myself able to face it. I -know it is imperatively necessary that you should remain at home, yet my -whole being rebels at this separation as at a cruel injustice, and the -greatest misfortune of my life. Why, why, why am I like this, oh, my -God? Yet I possess courage, Thou knowest! Thou knowest also that I -desire his speedy recovery and love him with a devoted, illimitable -love. My adored Victor! Why then, is the reason of this gloomy and -profound despair which robs me of strength and reason? Oh, God, dost -Thou hate me? Have my offences been graver than those of other women -like me, that Thou shouldst chastise me so mercilessly! Oh, I suffer, -Victor, I love you, I am wretched! - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Saturday, Noon, July 24th, 1858_. - -Another short spell of courage and patience, my poor gentle martyr, and -your deliverance will be complete. The doctor has just assured me so. I -shall soon be able to rejoice at your convalescence without the poignant -dread of a frightful disaster mingling itself with my joy. In the -delirious delight this good news gave me, I kissed the doctor's kindly -hands, which have become sacred to me since they have ministered to you. -The poor man was surprised and moved by my emotion, and looked quite -embarrassed--almost shy of my gratitude--but I was proud of it. Why -should not a woman kiss the hands that have saved the life of the man -she adores, when so many men kiss the idle fingers of the women who -betray them. - -Rosalie arrived a few minutes after the doctor, to fetch your egg, and -found me weeping and smiling. I explained the reason to her. The girl -has surprised me in tears so often that I fear she will take me for a -cry-baby by temperament, though God knows, I do not lay claim to -hyper-sensitiveness. But how could I have remained calm during your -long, painful illness. For, my beloved, one can afford to admit now, -that you have been in grave danger the last twelve days. Happily all is -over, you are saved and I thank God on my knees and adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Wednesday morning, August 4th, 1858_. - -At last, at last, at last, beloved, I have reached the blessed moment -when I shall see you again! I am so happy that words and breath fail me. -Oh, my adored one, how have I managed to live so far away and separated -from you for so long! Three weeks ago I should have thought such a -sacrifice beyond my strength, yet to-day I am almost afraid I am seeing -you too soon; for my solicitude takes fright at the idea of any -imprudence that might augment or prolong the sufferings you have only -just overcome. The worthy doctor assures me there is no risk for you in -the short walk from your house to mine, but I have been so wretched -during your illness, and I love you so much, that my heart knows not to -whom to hearken. My beloved, my joy, my life, my happiness, be prudent! -I adore you, I await you, my love. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Monday, 8 a.m., June 13th, 1859_. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET'S HAND.] - -Good morning, my adored one. I say it with all the tenderness which had -to be disguised owing to the presence of your kind and charming son, -during the lovely fortnight we have spent at Sark. Everything there was -a feast for mind and heart. One thing only was lacking for my complete -happiness; freedom to love you aloud and in all frankness. Now there -need be no obstacle to the passionate expansion of my soul, but it is in -the silence and solitude of my house, without the joys, smiles, -sparkling wit, and poetical atmosphere you and your son spread before -my dazzled eyes, during the splendid fortnight I spent with you both; so -true is it that one cannot have everything at the same time here below, -and that perfect happiness is attained only in Heaven. But while our two -souls are travelling thither, the one assisting the other, I am grateful -to God for the radiant fortnight He has just given me. I thank Him with -a full heart, and beseech Him to repay you and your dear Charles with as -many fruitful and glorious years as you have given me days of happiness -in the tender intimacy of Sark. As usual, my words are inadequate to -express my feelings, but you will understand, my beloved, and restore -the balance between the two. - -I hope you spent a good night, my sweet love. I am waiting for you to -give you as many kisses as you are able to carry. Until then I adore you -with all my soul. - - -_Tuesday, June 14th._ - -May God preserve you from all evil, my beloved, and permit my love and -blessing to constitute the whole happiness of your life. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Thursday, 4.30 p.m., February 16th, 1860_. - -You sat at this very spot just now, my sweet love, writing in my little -red book, (record of our love), the very things my own heart feels and -would have dictated to you, could it have spoken aloud--so certain is it -that my life belongs absolutely to you, and that my thoughts take birth -from your glances. Like you, I have faith in our radiant future in the -life beyond; like you, I pray to die as near you as possible, cradled in -your arms, whenever it please Heaven. If I hearkened only to the voice -of my selfishness, I should plead that it might be now, but I am too -conscious of the sublime mission you are called upon to accomplish -towards humanity in this world, to dare put up such an impious petition. -I will wait bravely, patiently, reverently, in prayer and adoration, -until it please God to call us unto Himself. - - -_Thursday evening, 7.30._ - -I resume my scribble where I left it when you came back this afternoon, -my darling beloved--not to add anything of value, but to continue for my -own pleasure the sweet dialogue between my heart and my love. I thank -you for our dear twenty-seventh anniversary, which you made memorable by -words so luminous and a tenderness so penetrating and sacred. I thank -you for myself, whose pride and joy and veneration you are; I thank you -on behalf of my nephew and his family, for the immense honour you have -conferred upon them by writing to their son. Lastly, my beloved, I kiss -your feet, your hands, your lips, your eyes, your brow, and I only cease -through fear of wearying you by this over-flow of caresses. - -I love you. - -JULIETTE. - - -MONT ST. JEAN, -_Monday, 8 p.m., June 17th, 1861_. - -Dearly beloved. Whilst you are expanding among the tender delights of -family life, I am invoking all my physical and moral strength to -prevent myself giving way under the sadness of your absence. As long as -my eyes could distinguish the omnibus, that is to say, as far as the -_Betterave Renaissante_, I watched your progress along the Gronendael -road. Beyond that point, I was forced to relinquish the sweet illusion -that I could still see the dear little black speck on the horizon, and -to acknowledge that nothing lay before me but the endless void of your -twenty-four hours' absence. So, as I did not know what to do with myself -or how to kill time, I walked by a fairly easy field-path as far as the -church at Waterloo, and came back by way of the village, without however -visiting the church, notwithstanding the pressing invitation of an old -woman who called me her dear friend. I got back to the hotel at six -o'clock precisely, and spent the half hour before dinner freshening -myself up by washing from head to foot; then I put on a dressing-gown -and went down to our little dining-room, where I ate without hunger and -drank without thirst, so dismal and forlorn am I when you are no longer -present. I must have been pretty fully convinced of the impossibility of -accompanying you to Brussels without exposing your movements to -undesirable criticism, to accept the sad alternative of remaining here -alone. But that certainty is no comfort whatever, and I am just as -miserable as if it had been in my power to make the expedition with you. -Certainly, human respect is a horrid beast, more malevolent and worrying -than even midges and their poisonous sting, and all the ammonia in the -world is powerless against it. - -I am well fitted to make the comparison seeing that my arm is already -healed, while my heart suffers more and more. Dear adored one, do try, -on your part, to spend profitably this interval which is costing me so -dear. Be happy; I love you, bless you, and adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Tuesday, 8 a.m., February 17th, 1863_. - -Good morning, my beloved. In full daylight and glorious sunshine, in -love and happiness, good morning. Again I greet you, like that first day -thirty years ago, when my eyes followed you along the Boulevard after -you left me. My soul winged flights of kisses to you when you looked -round for one more glance at my window before turning into the Rue du -Temple. That picture remains for ever graven upon my mind; I can assert -with truth that everything remains the same in my heart as the night I -first became yours. These thirty years of love have passed like one day -of uninterrupted adoration, and I feel now younger, more virile, and -more capable of loving you, than ever before--heart, body, soul, all are -yours, and live only by you and through you. I smile upon you, bless -you, adore you. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Sunday, 10.30 a.m., April 26th, 1863_. - -Good morning, unutterably dear one. May all the blessings of heaven and -earth rest upon you and those you love. I slept very well and hope you -did the same. My headache has gone and I feel as sturdy as an oak-tree. -I do not in the least desire a great house whence I shall not be able to -see you in the mornings, and I should much prefer to keep my own little -perch upon which my heart poises so happily while I watch you moving -about your home. Having made my protest, beloved, you shall dictate to -me the letter I must write to notify the landlord that he need not move -out to-morrow. We can settle when you come, what time I must be ready, -so as not to lose one second of our little walk up the hill. I am so -happy at the thought of remaining near you, that I feel as if I had -already substituted youthful wings for my old legs. Even my garden is -gay, and cries out to me by the mouths of its lovely flowers: _don't go -away_! Health is where happiness is, and happiness means loving each -other, side by side, eyes upon eyes, soul with soul. Therefore, I shall -stay here. That is quite settled. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Friday, 7.30 a.m., October 30th, 1863_. - -Good morning, good morning, and again, good morning, my dear, wide-awake -person. You must be very well to-day, judging by the energy with which -you are shaking your rugs to the four winds. I hope that signifies a -good night, good health, lively love, and all the rest of it. As for -myself, I slept little, but soundly. I got up before gun-fire this -morning, and had already finished my dressing when I saw you on your -balcony. What a privation it will be for me, my adored man, when I can -no longer watch you in the mornings, moving about your house. I do not -feel as if I should ever get accustomed to it, and I think of it with -apprehension, for there is a proverb that says, "Out of sight, out of -mind." If you gave up loving me, or worse, loved me less, what should I -make of life in that great empty drawing-room? - -At this moment, I am trying to numb these reflections by the -contemplation of the marvels you are creating in that future house of -mine; but at the bottom of my heart, I know I shall always mourn this -poor little lodging, where my eyes could watch over you, caress you, -guard you, preserve you, and adore you. The more I think of it, the more -oppressed I feel, and the more I blame myself for having exchanged the -happiness of every moment, for a comfort I shall hardly have leisure to -appreciate, and for health which did not require amelioration. My poor -beloved, forgive these regrets which are only dictated by love, and this -anxiety which also means love. Try not to let the separation of our -houses entail that of our hearts; try to love me as heartily there as -here, and do not let yourself be enticed away from me by anybody. On -those conditions I promise to live happily in the splendid rooms you -have prepared for me. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Wednesday, 1.30 p.m., June 15th, 1864_. - -Dearly beloved, I cannot forsake this little home where we have loved -each other for eight years, without imprinting a kiss of gratitude upon -its threshold. I have just gazed my supreme farewell at your beautiful -house, which has so long been to me the polar star of my heart's -wanderings. Alas, I am lengthening out the moments as much as possible; -I cannot bring myself to leave this dear little house, which I had made -the shrine of my cult for you. I should like to carry away the walls -against which you have leaned, the floors you have trodden, and even the -dust your feet have spurned. I fear lest my sadness be observed by those -who cannot understand it, and the efforts I make to seem unconcerned -increase the constriction of my heart, and drench my eyes with tears. -Oh, my adored beloved, how you will have to love me and give me all the -time at your disposal, to console me for the immense grief I am -experiencing to-day in quitting your neighbourhood, that is to say, in -losing sight of it! How you will have to double and treble and quadruple -your love, to replace the dear memories I leave behind me! May God -protect me and may the dear souls of our angels follow us to the new -home, and bless us till our last hour! - -I adore you. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Thursday, 5.30 a.m., June 16th, 1864_. - -Where are you, my beloved? My eyes seek you vainly, you are no longer -there to smile upon me; it is all over--I shall never again see the -little roost whence you used to blow kisses and wave your hand so -tenderly. I am alone now in my fine house, alone for ever; for there is -no further chance in this life of having you near me. I shall never -again live in your immediate intimacy, as I have done for the past eight -years. - -Loyally as you may endeavour to bridge over the distance between our -abodes by coming to me oftener in the day-time, the separation of our -two existences must ever endure. I know it by the blank depression I am -feeling this morning. I would give a hundred thousand houses and -palaces, and the universe itself, for that little slice of horizon where -my heart projected itself night and day. I am ashamed of having been so -mean-spirited as to barter my daily happiness against a chimerical -amelioration of health. I am punished for my transgression, my dearest. -I carry death in my heart. Forgive me! I would gladly smile at you, but -at this moment I feel incapable of doing so. Forgive me for loving you -too much. I hope you had a good night. I hope you gazed upon my dark, -empty house and gave it one sigh of regret. I hope you love me and are -conscious of my absence. May God preserve you from all evil, dearly -beloved, and may your love remain whole and intact in severance as in -propinquity. I bless you, and adore you. A kiss to all our dear -memories. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Sunday, 8.30 a.m., June 11th, 1865_. - -It would take very little to make me stay in bed till noon. I am ashamed -of myself and well punished, for I have not seen you this morning, and -have not yet heard whether you had a good or a bad night. I hope you -were clever enough to sleep uninterruptedly from the moment you laid -your head on the pillow, till that of your uprising. I shall be very -glad if I have guessed right. Meanwhile, my sweet treasure, I send you -a smile and a blessing. I am listening at this moment to the joyous -cheeping of my tiny chicks over a saucer of milk that has just been put -before them. I am also watching two white butterflies darting after each -other among my roses, like twin souls in Eden. The flowers are blooming, -love-making is going on all around, and my heart is overflowing with -tenderness and adoration for you. The further I progress in life, the -more I love you; you are the beginning and end of my being. I hope -everything of you, and my soul trusts you, all in all. You are my -radiant and divine beloved. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Sunday, 7.30 a.m., December 2nd, 1866_. - -Good-morning, my adored one, bless you. I can afford to smile on this -date, abhorred of all worthy folk: December 2nd.--because it is, for me -alone, a joyful anniversary. If my gratitude is an offence towards -humanity, I humbly ask pardon of God and man. I am tormented at the -thought that you may have slept badly. If I could be reassured on that -point, I should be quite happy this morning. Unfortunately, I can only -find out much later when you come here to bathe your dear eyes. The -mention of your eyes reminds me of your poor wife's sight. Surely, if -the doctors were not certain of curing her, they would not keep her so -long in Paris, away from all her belongings, in winter weather? My -desire for her complete recovery of a sense of which she has made such -noble use in her beautiful book _Victor Hugo, raconte_, makes me look -upon her delay in returning, as a happy presage of future recovery. I -ask it of Heaven, with love. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Wednesday, 8 a.m., January 1st, 1868_. - -I thank you, dearest, for letting me have a share in your prayers, when -you plead to God not to separate us in life or in death. It is what I -pray all day long; it is the aspiration of my heart and the faith of my -soul. I am not a devout woman, my sublime beloved, I am only the woman -who loves and admires and reverences you. To live near you is paradise; -to die with you is the consecration of our love for all eternity. I want -to live and die with you. I, like you, crave it of God. May He grant our -joint prayers! - -I feel as you do, my beloved, that those two dear souls hover above us -and watch over us and bless us. I associate them with all my thoughts -and sorrows and joys, and I place my prayers under their protection, -that they may convey them direct to the foot of the Great White Throne. -I bless them as they bless me, with all that is loftiest and holiest and -most sacred in my soul. I am stopping at almost every line of this -letter to read your adorable one over again, although I already know it -by heart. I kiss it, talk to it, listen to it, and then begin all over -again. I love you. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Thursday, 7 a.m., May 7th, 1868_. - -Dearly beloved, I am rather less worried since I have seen you and -exchanged a kiss with you; yet I know you slept badly. I can feel that -you are ailing and sad. I pray God to give you happiness again as soon -as possible, in the form of a second little Georges all smiling and -beautiful; meanwhile, I beg Him to let my love be the balm that will -heal your wounds, until the day of resurrection of the sweet child for -whom you weep.[112] - -I hope He will hear and grant my petitions on your behalf, and that you -will be restored to some degree of calmness and consolation. When you -write to your two dear sons, Charles and Victor, do not forget, I beg, -to thank them from me for the little portrait. Tell them I love them and -mingle my tears with theirs. - -I adore you, my great one, my venerated one, my sublime mourner. - -J. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Sunday, 7.30 a.m., August 2nd, 1868_. - -Again I have slept better than ever, beloved. I trust it has been the -same with you. I was very proud and pleased at my walk with you and your -family last night, but I felt somewhat shy and ill at ease. Please -permit me to decline any further invitations of the kind. Should the -occasion arise again, which is improbable, I think good taste and -discretion demand that I should hold myself aloof from your family -affections, and only associate myself with them at a distance, or in my -own home. As this feeling, or scruple, whichever you may like to call -it, could not be expressed in the presence of your dear children -yesterday, I consented to go with you, while intending to call your -attention privately to the embarrassment such an incident would cause -me, if it should happen again. I think you will probably agree with me, -and approve of my sacrificing my pleasure to your tender family -intercourse. - -J. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Wednesday, 8.30 a.m., August 26th, 1868_. - -My poor beloved, I pray God to spare you and your dear children the -misfortune which threatens you at this moment in the loss of your -angelic and adorable wife. I hope, I hope, I hope. I pray, I love you, I -summon all our dear angels above to her assistance and yours. I pray God -to make two equal shares of the days remaining to me, and add one to the -life of your saintly and noble wife. My beloved, my heart is wrung, I -suffer all you suffer twice over, through my love for you. I do not know -what to do. I long to go to you, I should love to take my share of the -nursing of your poor invalid, but human respect holds me back, and my -heart is heavier than ever. Suzanne has only just come from your house, -and I already want to send her back again, in the hope that she may -bring me less disquieting news than that which I have just received. Oh, -God have mercy upon us and change our anguish into joy! - - -BRUSSELS, -_Thursday, August 27th, 1868_. - -My beloved, in the presence of that soul which now sees into my -own,[113] I renew the sacred vow I made the first time I gave myself to -you; to love you in this world and in the next, so long as my soul shall -exist, in the certainty of being sanctioned and blessed in my devotion -by the great heart and noble mind which has just preceded us, alas, into -eternity. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Friday, 8 a.m., August 28th, 1868_. - -I placed your sleep last night under the protection of your dear one, my -beloved, and implored her to remove from your dreams all painful -memories of the sad day just past. I hope she heard me and that you -slept well. Henceforth, it is to this gentle and glorious witness of -your life in this world, now your radiant protectress in Heaven, that I -will appeal for the peace and happiness you require, to finish the great -humanitarian task to which you have pledged yourself. May God bless her -and you, as I bless her and you. - -The more I think over to-night's mournful journey, the more convinced I -feel that I ought not to take part in it. The pious homage of my heart -to that great and generous woman must not be exposed to a wrong -interpretation by indifferent or ill-natured critics. We must make this -last sacrifice to human malignity, in order to have the right to love -each other openly afterwards; do you not agree, my beloved? Afterwards, -may nothing ever come between us here below, nor above--such is my -ardent desire! - -J. - - -BRUSSELS, -_Friday, 5.30 p.m., August 28th_. - -My heart and thoughts are with you and your beloved dead. I am sad and -heart-broken, not for the angelic and sublime woman who now shines out -in the world of spirits while we here below regret her, but for you, my -poor sad man, to whom she was a holy and meek companion; for your dear -children whose joy and pride she was; for myself, to whom she was ever a -discreet and considerate protectress. - -My heart is torn by your grief, my poor afflicted ones; my eyes rain all -the tears you are shedding. Dear treasure, I beg your wife to obtain for -you the courage you need. May her memory remain with you, sweet and -gentle and benign as was her exquisite person in life. I entrust you to -her as I confide myself to you, and I bless you both. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Tuesday, 2 p.m., February 1st, 1870_. - -Since I have seen you, my great beloved, I am feeling much better. Your -smile has completed my cure. It may be an illusion of my eyes and heart, -but at this moment I seem to feel the breath of spring. Perhaps it -proceeds from the nearness of the anniversary of the first performance -of _Lucrece Borgia_, which is to be acclaimed and applauded by an -enthusiastic public to-morrow night, just as it was thirty-seven long -years ago. Bonaparte may do his best to-morrow against this magnificent -play, he will get no good out of his police-engineered cabal. I think he -will hardly dare risk such an infamous attempt, but I wish it was -already Saturday, that we might be quite easy. Meanwhile, I love you -after the fashion of Princesse Negroni. - -JULIETTE. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Monday, 8.30 a.m., February 14th, 1870_. - -Good morning, my dearest. Did you sleep better last night, my great, -little man? Were you warmer? How are you this morning? It is indeed -tedious to have to wait until this afternoon to hear all this. I am -trying to moderate my impatience by doing things for you. I have already -selected your two eggs, put fresh water into your finger-bowl, and a -snow-white napkin on your plate. Suzanne is making your coffee, which -perfumes the whole house, while I trace these gouty old -"pattes-de-mouche," which are to lay all the tender nonsense of my heart -at your feet. I am beginning early, as you see, to be certain that they -arrive in time. The thaw has begun. I was quite hot in the night, though -I must admit I had taken measures to that end; so I slept excellently, -as you can judge by the state of my spirits. But what I really want you -to take note of is, that I adore you. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Saturday, 7.45 a.m., May 21st, 1870_. - -My heart, my eyes, my soul, are bewildered, my beloved, so overwhelmed -are they with tenderness, admiration, and happiness! What an adorable -letter, and what a marvellous surprise! How good you are to me! How -generous and charming! Words fail me, and the best I can say is: I love -you! I love you! I threw my arms around old Mariette's neck, and almost -embraced Marquand himself in the delirium of my delight. What a splendid -frame for that lovely little mirror! It contains everything: flowers, -birds, a shelf, little Georges' sweet face above, and your beautiful -verses for wings. How can I thank you adequately, or describe my -gratitude? Fortunate am I to have eternity before me in which to bless -you. I kissed my dear little letter before everybody, but I would not -read it until just now when I was able to bolt my door. I always read -you thus, my adored one. My soul demands privacy for the better -understanding of your sublime words, and I never finish the reading of -them without feeling transported with love and almost prepared for the -next world. I love you!! - -Mariette told me you had spent a very good night. Is it really true? I -slept capitally, too, and am feeling more than well. I have been looking -about for a place for my new treasure, but have not yet decided on one. -I shall leave it to you to choose its proper place in my museum of -_souvenirs_. Meanwhile, I have covered it away from the dust and put it -in the shady drawing-room. As soon as I have read your adorable little -letter again, I shall go back and have another look at it. - -J. - -[Illustration: VICTOR HUGO, BY RODIN.] - -GUERNSEY, -_Friday, 5 a.m., August 18th, 1870_. - -At all hazards I must send you my morning greeting, though I trust you -are sleeping too soundly to hear it. You have slept so little and so -badly for many nights, that it would be only fair that this night -should be long and good. As for me, I hardly slept at all, but I do not -mind and am hardly surprised, as it is a habit of mine. But the thing I -feel I cannot become inured to, is the apprehension of the perils you -are about to encounter on your journey to Paris, ranging from the loss -of your wealth to the death of your love for me--either would finish me. -I think with terror of the tortures of all kinds I shall undergo there; -my courage fails me and craves mercy in anticipation. I have fought all -night against the wicked temptation to desert my post in a cowardly -manner before even meeting the enemy--not an enemy that can be fought -with fire and blood, but one that stabs you smiling. But I have not even -the courage of cowardice; I am ready to suffer a thousand deaths if only -I can preserve you from a single danger. You must live at any cost, that -you may be enabled to complete your glorious task, and be happy, no -matter how or with whom. My duty is to devote myself to that end, -whatever betide. If I go under in the execution of it, so much the worse -for me, or possibly, so much the better. To serve you and love you is my -mission in this world--the rest does not concern me. - -J. - - -_Thursday morning, July 20th, 1871_. - -This is your patron-saint's day, my great beloved. Others will -congratulate you with flowers and music and expressions of admiring -gratitude and emotion, but nobody will love you more than I do, or bless -and adore you as you deserve to be loved, blessed and adored! - -I hope this anniversary may be the beginning of a new year less sinister -and sad than the last, and that your dear grandchildren will give you as -much joy and happiness as you have had sadness and misfortune in the -past. I say this hastily, as best I can, with emotion in my old heart -and thrills of joy in my soul. As I sit scribbling, I hear your voice -calling me and I rush towards you just as in the early days of our love. - -I kiss your hair, your eyes, your lips, your hands, your feet. I adore -you. - -JULIETTE. - - -PARIS, -_Thursday, 10.15, January 18th, 1872_. - -Good morning, my great and venerated one. I kiss one by one the wounds -of your heart, praying God to heal those that ache worst. I beg Him to -give me strength to help you carry your heavy cross to the end. I ask -Him, above all, to give me that which, alas, is lacking in my nature, -namely, that infinite gentleness without which the most perfect devotion -is unavailing. Since the day before yesterday, my poor, sublime martyr, -my heart has been wrung by the new blow that has fallen upon you,[114] -and I weep helplessly, without power to check my tears. God Who gave you -genius makes you pay heavy toll for that favour, by overwhelming your -life with the pangs of sorrow. My beloved, I beg you to tell me how I -may serve you. I will do anything you desire. I will use my whole heart -and strength in your service. - -I love you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_8 a.m., Monday, February 26th, 1872_. - -This is your birthday, beloved--the anniversary of anniversaries, -acclaimed in Heaven by the great men of genius who preceded you upon -earth, and blessed by me ever since the day I first gave myself to you. -We used to celebrate it with all the sweetest instruments of love; -kisses, words of endearment, letters, all were pressed into service to -make this date, February 26th, a perfume, an ecstasy, a ray of sunshine. -To-day these winged caresses have flown to other realms, but there -remains to us the solemn devotion that better becomes the sacred -marriage of two souls for all eternity. In the name of that devotion I -send you my tenderest greetings and beg you to let me know how you spent -the night. I hope your little breach of regulations yesterday did not -prevent you from sleeping. As for me, I slept little, but I am quite -well this morning, thanks to the influence of this radiant date. I ask -little Georges and little Jeanne to kiss you for me as many times as you -have lived minutes in this world. My dearly beloved, I bless you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Saturday, 2 p.m., April 13th, 1872_. - -This is a day of sunshine: God, in His Heaven above, and little Jeanne -under my roof. I hardly know--or rather, perhaps I do know which is the -brighter of the two, but I am not going to tell you, for fear of making -you too proud. What a beautiful day, and what an adorable little girl! -But what a pity we cannot all enjoy these spring-time delights together, -walking and driving, in town and country-meadows. I am really afraid the -good God will weary of us and pronounce the fatal dictum: "IT IS TOO -LATE" when at last we make up our minds to take our share of life, -sunshine, and happiness. The terrible part is that whether innocent or -guilty we shall all suffer alike for _your_ transgression, for divine -justice is very like that of man. As for me, I enter my protest from my -little retreat, but it serves no purpose except that of an idle pastime; -it does not even keep me from adoring you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 12 noon, November 18th, 1873_. - -My beloved, I do not desire to turn your successes into a scourge for -your back, but I cannot help feeling that my old-fashioned devotion cuts -a sorry figure amongst the overdressed _cocottes_ who assail you -incessantly with their blandishments and invitations. This fantastic -chase has gone on for a long time without extorting from you any sign of -weariness or satiety. As for me, I long only for repose--if not in this -life (which seems difficult in my case to obtain), then in the -immobility of death, which cannot long be delayed at the pace I am -going. I ask your permission to begin preparing for it by giving up my -daily letters. That will be something gained; the rest will come -gradually, little by little, till one fine day we shall find ourselves -quite naturally on the platform of indifference, or of reason, as you -will prefer to call it. From to-day on, therefore, I place the key of my -heart on your doorstep, and will wander away alone in the direction of -God. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Friday, 11.15 a.m., December 26th, 1873_. - -Dear adored one. All your desires in life, as well as mine, are granted -to-day if your dear Victor has spent a good night, as I hope. I am -anxiously waiting for Mariette's return to know how the dear invalid -is.... - -My poor beloved, I am in despair--I have just seen Mariette, who tells -me that your poor son is in high fever at this moment.[115] I do not -know how to tell you; I do not think I shall have the strength to do so. -Dr. See has been sent for and Mariette has just gone back to hear what -he thinks of this relapse. Oh, Heaven have mercy on us! I hardly dare -breathe or even weep, so greatly do I dread betraying to you the -misfortune which threatens you, my beloved. How can I ward off the fate -that is hanging over you? What can I say or do? My brain reels! Ought I -to tell you everything--would it be wrong to conceal from you the -imminent sorrow that is going to wring your heart once more? I know not, -but I lack the courage either to speak or to be silent; I am in despair, -yet I dare not make moan. I suffer, I adore you. Pity me, as I pity you. -Let us love each other under this cruel trial, as we should if Heaven -were opening its gates to us. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Monday, 5 o'clock p.m., December 29th, 1873_. - -Go, dearest, try to find in a solitary walk, which may prove fruitful to -the world, some solace for the painful agitation of your heart. My -thoughts follow you lovingly and bless every one of your steps. Do not -worry about me in the new arrangements of your life. Whatever you settle -shall be accepted by me. For forty-one years I have followed that -programme, and I will do so now, more than ever. Provided you love me as -I love you, I desire nothing more from God or you. The advice I give -you, apart from my own personal concerns, is always practical and in -your own interest and that of your dear grandchildren. I should feel I -had failed in my duty if I kept the least of my ideas from you, whether -good or bad, insignificant or stupid. I love you and adore you, body, -heart and soul. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 12.30 p.m., February 17th, 1874_. - -Dear one, there is rather more bustle about us than usual on this our -sweet and sacred anniversary. We have the little excitement of your two -adorable grandchildren, which we had not expected, but which is all the -more delightful for that. The perfection of happiness would have been to -take them ourselves to that famous circus which little Georges already -knows, and little Jeanne dreams of; but the bad weather and the remains -of my influenza counsel a pusillanimous prudence. It is not without -regret, beloved, that I impose this sacrifice of one of our most -precious joys upon you, but I feel I cannot do otherwise to-day. As for -the dear little things, their pleasure will, fortunately, not be marred -in any way. So long as they can revel in the antics of Mr. and Mrs. -Punch and their august family, they will not mind whom they go with. -That being the case, Mariette is a sufficient escort to the promised -land of Auriol and Punch. - -As for ourselves, dearest, I trust that our two souls, communing -together, will not miss those fascinating little witnesses of our love -over much. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Wednesday, 7 p.m., March 11th, 1874_. - -He whose heart is younger than his years suffers all the sorrows of his -age. This aphorism contains in a few words the secret of the turmoil I -involuntarily bring into your life, while I myself suffer like a soul in -damnation. Still, I must not allow this ridiculous folly to be an -annoyance to you; I must and will get the better of it, and leave you -your liberty, every liberty, especially that of being happy whenever and -however you like. Otherwise, my poor beloved, you will very shortly come -to hate the sight of me. I know it, and it terrifies me in anticipation. -So I am determined to crush my heart at all costs, that I may restore -peace and happiness to yours. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Saturday, 1.45 p.m., April 4th, 1874_. - -I thank you dear one, for having been loyal enough to tell me this -morning that you had written another poem to Madame M. I thank you also -for having offered to read it to me, and not to send it to her till -afterwards. I accepted this respite in the first instance, but I -realised later that _what is delayed is not lost_, and that I should -gain nothing by struggling against being bracketed with this _statue -inhabited by a star_, and that I was simply putting myself in the absurd -position of the ostrich that tries to avert danger by hiding his head in -the sand. Therefore beloved, I beg you to act quite freely, and to send -the verses dedicated to your beautiful muse whenever you like. Once the -poetry has been written, it is quite natural that you should intoxicate -each other without consideration for me. Besides, in my opinion, -infidelity does not consist in action only; I consider it already -accomplished by the sole fact of desire. That being settled, my dear -friend, I beg you to behave exactly as you like, and as if I were no -longer in the way. I shall then have leisure to rest from the fatigues -of life before taking my departure for eternity. Try and be happy if you -can. - -J. - -[Illustration: JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1877.] - -PARIS, -_Thursday, 7 a.m., April 11th, 1874_. - -Permit me, my great beloved, to offer you my three-score years and ten, -freshly completed this morning. Give the poor old things a friendly -reception, for they are as blazing with love for you now, as if they had -only been born yesterday. I commission little Jeanne to give you -seventy million kisses for me to-day, not one less, but a few more if -she likes. I hope little Georges' nose has not bled since yesterday, and -that he slept well like the rest of you. I slept like a top, and am -splendid this morning. I feel a degree of youthfulness that must proceed -from the seventy springs I have absorbed so freely. The sky itself -contributes its birthday greeting by pouring its measure of sunshine -upon us. Therefore, long live love, for us in the first place, (for a -little selfishness will not harm happiness,) and in the second, long -live love for all whom we love. May you be blest, my beloved, in all -those you care for. I adore you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Thursday, 10.45 p.m., May 7th, 1874_. - -Dear, dear one, the separation I dreaded as a veritable calamity is now -an accomplished fact. God grant it may not be the beginning of the end -of my happiness. My heart is full of sad presentiment. The distance that -separates us is like a broken bridge between our hearts, over which -neither joy nor hope may pass henceforth. I cherish no illusion; from -this evening forward, all intimacy between us is over, and my sweet -horizon of love is for ever clouded. I try to give myself courage by -reflecting that the happiness I lose is gained by you in the affection -of your two dear grandchildren. I tell myself that this compensation -should be sufficient for me; still I am in despair, and I can hardly -help shedding floods of tears, as if some irreparable misfortune had -befallen me when you walked away just now. I accustomed myself far too -speedily to a happiness that was only lent to me for a little while. -But however short-lived it proved, I bless you, and pray God to turn my -regrets and sorrow into a future of joy and kisses and ecstasy for you -and your two little angels. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_9.30 a.m., Sunday, June 21st, 1874_. - -I had hoped that nothing would happen to disturb the sanctity of this -sad anniversary,[116] and had counted on the assistance of the angels of -death to defend me from the aggressions of the devils of life. Alas, I -was sadly at fault, for never was a more audacious or more cynical -attempt made against my peace of mind. One might think that the mangled -remains of my poor heart were a target for the arrows of those -emissaries of vice! I declare myself vanquished without a fight, and ere -my reason finally succumbs, I mean to place my bruised heart in shelter, -far from the flattering intrigues of which you are the fortunate hero. - - -_3 p.m._ - -You wish me not to be anxious, not to relinquish a tussle in which I am -unarmed? It is more generous than wise on your part, for what happened -to-day, happened yesterday, and will again to-morrow, and I have no -strength left, either physical or moral. This martyrdom of Sisyphus, who -daily raises his love heavenward only to see it fall back with all its -weight upon his heart, inspires me with horror, and I prefer death a -thousand times over, to such torture. Have mercy upon me! Let me go! It -shall be wherever you will. Do not run the risk for yourself and me of -my committing some frightful act of folly. I ask you this in the name of -your daughter and mine--in the name of little Georges and your dear -little Jeanne. Give me a chance to recover from these reiterated -attacks. I assure you it is the only remedy possible, or capable of -effecting my cure. You will hardly notice my absence; the children of -your blood, and those of your genius, and the rest, will easily fill the -void of my absence, and meanwhile I shall regain calmness. I shall -become resigned and perhaps be cured, and in any case it will be a -respite for you as well as for me. I assure you my treasure, that it -will be a good thing for you. I beg you to let me try it. The abuse of -love, like the abuse of health, brings suffering and death in its train. -The soul may have a plethora, as well as the body. Mine suffocates under -its own weight. Let me try to lighten it in solitude and the -contemplation of our past happiness. I beg and implore it of you--I ask -it in the name of those you mourn and love. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Monday, 6 p.m., February 16th, 1875_. - -My dearest, your letter burns and dazzles me, and I feel humbled by it, -because physically I know myself to be so far beneath your ideal; but -morally, when I look inward and see my soul as your love has transformed -it, I am arrogant enough to think myself above it, and to have no fear -of the moment when I may reveal to you its resplendent purity in the -eyes of God. Pending this, sublime and divine treasure of mine, you -must shut your eyes to the sad reality of my old, sickly body, and await -with patience the rejuvenation promised in Heaven. I pray God to allow -me to live as long as you, because I do not know how I could exist a -single minute without you, even in Paradise with our holy angels. I hope -He will grant my ardent prayer, and that we shall die and rise again -together on the same day and at the same hour. To ensure this, I must -put my health on a level with yours, which will be difficult, for I am -very feeble. I try to, every day, without much success so far, but I am -counting on the spring to give me a push up the hill, so that I may -continue to pace the road at your side. This evening, if nobody comes, -and if Madame Charles leaves us early, I shall beg you to let me do _Le -Passus_ with you. I should like to celebrate the day by something brave -and wholesome. I hope I shall manage it. I love you, bless you, and -adore you. - -J. - - -GUERNSEY, -_Tuesday, 7.45 a.m., April 21st, 1875_. - -Good morning my great, good, ineffable, adorable beloved. I pray Heaven -to bless you in Heaven as I bless you here below. I hope you slept as -well as I did, that you bear me no grudge for the irritability born of -excessive fatigue, and that you do not love me less on account of it. My -confidence in your inexhaustible indulgence lends me courage to proceed -with the sad business that brought me here.[117] The thought that we -shall never return to these houses of ours, where we loved and suffered -and were happy together, makes my heart as heavy as if we were already -attending our funerals. This fresh break between the sweet past of our -love and the short future that remains to us in this life, makes the -present very painful. But I am not unthankful for the compensations that -await us in Paris in the society of your dear grandchildren--far from -it! I shall smile upon them and bless them with my last breath, as the -tangible angels of your happiness and mine. I am doing my best to be -ready to start on Tuesday morning. I regret not being able to carry away -every relic of our love, from the soil of the garden, to the air you -breathe. By the way I have a petition to make to you, but am ready to -submit to a refusal if you do not approve of granting it. I want you to -allow me to give Louis the two splendid drawings of St. Paul and the -Cock, which are really mine to dispose of, since you gave them to me -long ago. Some mementoes are more prized by an heir than mere money, and -I should like to leave these from you to my kind and worthy nephew, if -you consent. Meanwhile, as I said before, I will bow to a refusal, even -if you give me no reason, for I adore you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 7.45 a.m., October 5th, 1875_. - -Good news from your dear little travellers. The top of the morning to -you, and long live love! The telegram, which came after I was in bed, -that is to say after eleven o'clock, is dated from Genoa, and says they -arrive the day after to-morrow at Madame Menard's, and will write at -once from there. Meanwhile they send you thousands of kisses, of which -I make bold to reserve a share, before being quite certain that I am -meant to do so. This long delayed arrival in France heralds their speedy -return home, which is not at all displeasing to me--_on the contrary!_ -My gaze, night and morning, at their dear little portraits in no degree -replaces their kisses, their sweet faces, and the joyous little shrieks -one hears all day long. At last we are touching the end of our long -abstinence and shall soon be able to devour them whole. Meanwhile I -continue to feed upon your heart, to whet my appetite. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Sunday, 5 p.m., November 21st, 1875_. - -Dear beloved, your promise to take me every day to Versailles, if you -are obliged to return to the Assemblee, fills my heart with such joy -that I have been humming all the merry songs I used to sing. It is long -since I have done such a thing. What would it be if some lucky event -sent us all back to Guernsey, never to leave it again ... or at least, -not for a very long time! What enchantment, what a starlit dream, if God -were to give us that bliss a second time! I think I should promptly -return to the age I was when I received your first kiss. Fortunately for -France, God will not grant this selfish wish, but He will forgive me for -entertaining it I hope, for I cannot help loving you beyond everything -in this world, and it does not hinder me from being satisfied with -whatever happiness He is pleased to vouchsafe, so long as you are -content, and love only me, who adore you. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 8 a.m., April 25th, 1876_. - -My treasure, I pray God not to separate us in this life or the next. -That is why I am anxious to be with you in the crowd that will rush to -see and hear you at the cemetery to-day.[118] I know by experience that -your enthusiasm borders on imprudence, so I want to press my body to -yours as closely as our souls are riveted, so that whatever befalls you -on this sad occasion, may include me. As the love animating our hearts -is identical, it is only fair that our fate should be the same. I wish -this evening were safely over, that I might be satisfied that everything -has gone off well; for I am afraid if poor Louis Blanc attends the -mournful ceremony in his present state of ill-health and weakness, he -may not be able to get through it. I shall not be easy until we are at -home again. Meanwhile I pray Heaven and our angels above to watch over -you and preserve you from all danger. I bless, love, and adore you, for -all eternity. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Wednesday, 7.30 a.m., April 26th, 1876_. - -I thank you with sacred emotion, my dear one, for your inclusion of me -in the sublime and magnificent exordium you pronounced yesterday on the -noble wife of Louis Blanc. I accept it without false modesty, because I -feel I deserve it, and I am proud and grateful for this ante-apotheosis -you made of me, a living woman, standing at the open grave of the -devoted deceased. I am sure her spirit will not have grudged it, and -that she blesses you from above, as I do from below, joining her prayers -to mine, that God may grant all grace and divine consolation to those we -love. I have already re-read your splendid oration many times to-day, -and although I know it by heart, each repetition discloses some fresh -beauty in it. My one cry is: I love you! I love you!! I love you!!! All -my heart and soul are contained in those words: I love you. - -J. - - -_Monday, 10 a.m., November 11th, 1878._ - -No, my beloved, you have no right to endanger your precious health and -risk your glorious life for nothing. "Art for art's sake" is not -permissible in your case, and we shall oppose it strenuously, even at -the risk of curtailing your liberty. I am sorry, but there it is--you -must make up your mind to it. There are plenty of useless men in this -world who may waste their lives as they like, but you must guard and -preserve yours for as long as it pleases God to grant it to you for the -honour and happiness of humanity. So, my dear little man, I implore you -not to repeat yesterday's imprudence, or any other, for all our sakes, -including your adorable grandchildren's and mine whose health and life -and soul you are. When I see you so careless of yourself I cannot help -feeling you no longer love me, and that my continued presence is so -wearisome to you that you want to be rid of it at any price. Then I -am seized with a desperate longing to deliver you of me for ever, rather -than be the involuntary accomplice of your repeated suicidal acts, which -have been ineffectual so far, not through your fault, but because God -intends you to go on living, for His greater glory and your own. May His -will be done. Amen. - -J. - -[Illustration: THE DEATHBED OF VICTOR HUGO. - -Victor Hugo Museum.] - -[Illustration: A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET. - -The writing reads thus: "A la Juliette de Victor Hugo, plus charmante et -plus aimee que la Juliette de Shakespeare." The original belongs to M. -Louis Barthou.] - -VILLEQUIER, -_Friday and Saturday mornings, September 12th and 13th, 1879_. - -A double letter, my beloved; to-day's and yesterday's, which, for want -of paper, pens and ink, I was not able to send you at the proper time, -in spite of the inexhaustible fount of my love. This morning being -better provided, I can let myself go in the happiness of being with you -in the house of your respected friends,[119] enjoying their tender and -devoted hospitality. I am proud and yet shy of sharing it with you; -proud, because I think myself worthy, shy because I do not know how to -thank them or to prove my gratitude. Fortunately the honour and pleasure -of your presence is reward enough for those you esteem, and from whom -you accept this filial friendship, admiration, and devotion. I express -myself badly, but you are accustomed to grasp my meaning, in spite of -the lapses of my pen; so I never worry about the confusion of my -scribbles, and I end them imperturbably, as I begin them, by the sacred -words: I love you. I did not venture to ask your permission yesterday to -accompany you on your pious pilgrimage,[120] but I add the prayers I -addressed to God and your dear dead, to the sacrifice I was forced to -make to appearances. If you allow me, I shall go before we leave -Villequier, and kneel beside those venerated tombs, to offer under the -open sky my profound respect and eternal benediction. I shall only do it -if you consent, for I should not like to offend against good taste by -the outward manifestation of the sentiment I cherish in my heart for -your dear dead relations. I know you slept well--thanks evidently to the -calm and happy life your friends provide for you in their circle, for -which I thank and bless them from the bottom of my heart. I do not know -whether the weather will be favourable to-day for the excursion we -planned; it is foggy so far, but whatever be the state of the barometer, -I am disposed to be quite happy if you are, and to adore you without -conditions of any kind. By the way, how are you going to evade the -attentions of the mayor and corporation of Le Havre without hurting the -feelings of the poor workmen who implore you to go amongst them while -you are in their neighbourhood? It is not an easy problem to solve. -Luckily nothing is a difficulty to you--nor to me either when there is -any question of loving you with all my might from one end of life to the -other! - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Monday, 7 a.m., May 30th, 1880_. - -How beautiful, how grand, how divine!!! I have just finished that -glorious reading, and am electrified by the elixir of your ardent -poetry; my fainting soul clings to your mighty wings, to arrest its fall -from the starry heights in which you plane, to the profound abyss of my -ignorance. I was afraid I might disturb your sleep by the rustling of -the leaves as I cut and devoured them greedily, never noticing that -night was turning into day. Finally, fearing to be caught by you, I -dragged myself unwillingly to bed at three o'clock, and have now already -been up an hour, in triumphant health, rejuvenated by the virility of -the thoughts your inexhaustible genius pours forth without intermission -before a dazzled and grateful humanity. My hand shakes from my inward -tremor, and it is with difficulty that I finish this poor little cry of -admiration. Even my voice, if I tried to speak at this moment, could -hardly stammer out my adoration. I am in the throes of a kind of -delirium which would be painful, were it not as exquisite as the divine -love which overflows from my heart. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 8 a.m., November 2nd, 1880_. - -Beloved, Heaven decrees that in the absence of your dear departed souls, -your sweet angels here below should be restored to you to-day. Let us -bless Him with all reverence, and be solemnly happy with the memory of -those who once made our felicity, and the kisses of your adorable -grand-children, who constitute your present and future content. What joy -it is to see them once more, lovelier than ever if possible, and in -still better health. All night I listened to every sound, that I might -be the first to welcome them on the threshold. I succeeded, and was -repaid by their hugs. The sun shot forth its brightest beams in their -honour. As for you, divine grandpapa, I trust your horrid cold will -yield to the tender caresses that await you, and that we shall have you -with us in our enjoyment. The least we can hope for is an indulgence in -unlimited caresses, after these three months of separation. I make a -start by flinging myself into your arms. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Tuesday, 9 a.m., December 14th, 1881_. - -I come to fetch my heart where I left it, that is to say in yours. I -return it to you, praying you not to bruise it over much by unjust and -wounding tyrannies. My independent, proud nature has always borne them -ill, and is now in revolt. I beg you beloved, not to constitute yourself -the critic of my little personal needs. Whatever I may ask, I assure you -I shall never exceed the bounds of necessity, and never will I take -unfair advantage of your trust and generosity. The position you have -given me in your household precludes me from placing myself at a -disadvantage in the eyes of your guests by an appearance not in -consonance with your means. Therefore, please, dear great man, leave it -to my discretion to do honour to you as well as to myself. Besides, the -little time I have to spend on earth is not worth haggling about. So, my -great little man, let us be good to each other for the rest of the time -God grants us to live side by side, and heart to heart. - -J. - - -PARIS, -_Sunday, Noon, July 10th, 1881_. - -My dear beloved, I must first of all confess the fault (if it be one) I -committed yesterday under the influence of the universal enthusiasm -occasioned by the glorious ovation offered to you, so that you may -forgive it, even if you see fit to punish me. This is my crime. Whilst -you, still in the full flood of your emotion, were thanking the -enthusiastic crowd, the councillors of our district approached to -congratulate you and at the same time to beg for money for their -schools. Madame Lockroy sent them forty francs by Georges. Failing to -attract your attention, though they stood behind you, intent upon -presenting their money-boxes themselves, they turned to me. In my -agitated surprise, I handed them the hundred-franc note I was saving up -for my birthday. I gave the note in your name, at the same time -reminding them they had already received five hundred from you the day -before, through their mayor. He, happening to be present, confirmed my -statement. This is my transgression; if you deem it deserving of -severity you need not refund the money. If you take into account the -delirium and excitement of the occasion you will smile and give me back -my poor little mite of which I have great need. In any case you must not -scold me too much, for I am very sensitive. - -J. - - -_Wednesday, 8 a.m., June 21st, 1882._ - -Beloved, thank you for taking me to-day to the mournful and sweet -_rendez-vous_ of St. Mande. I feel as if my sorrow would be less bitter, -kneeling at my child's grave than when I am at a distance ... as if my -soul could get closer to that of my little beloved, through the earth of -her tomb, than anywhere else. I hope you will find your dear daughter -in good health, and that we shall both return from this sacred errand -resigned to the will of God, though not consoled, for that is no longer -possible in this world. Thank you again, my adored one, for sharing with -me the sad anniversary that recalls to you the many sorrows of your own -life. I am very grateful to you, and I bless you as I love you, with all -the strength of my soul. - -J. - - -_Monday, January 1st, 1883._ - -Dear adored one, I do not know where I may be this time next year, but I -am proud and happy to sign my life-certificate for 1883 with this one -word: I love you. - -JULIETTE.[121] - - - - -APPENDIX - -I. LIST OF THOSE OF VICTOR HUGO'S POEMS WHICH WERE INSPIRED BY JULIETTE -DROUET.[122] - - -A. _LES CHANTS DU CREPUSCULE_ - -XIV. Oh! n'insultez jamais (September 6th, 1835). - -XXI. Hier la nuit d'ete (May 21st, 1835). - -XXII. Nouvelle chanson sur un vieil air (February 28th, 1834). - -XXIII. Autre chanson. - -XXIV. Oh! pour remplir de moi (September 19th, 1834). - -XXV. Puisque j'ai mis ma levre (January 1st, 1835). - -XXVI. Or Mademoiselle J. (March 1st, 1835). - -XXVII. La pauvre fleur (December 7th, 1834). - -XXVIII. Au bord de la mer (October 7th, 1834). - -XXIX. Puisque nos heures sont remplies (February 19th, 1835). - -XXXIII. Dans l'eglise de.... (October 25th, 1834). - -XXXVI. Puisque Mai tout en fleurs (May 21st, 1835). - - -_B. LES VOIX INTERIEURES_ - -VI. Oh! vivons disent-ils (March 4th, 1837). - -VIII. Venez que je vous parle (April 21st, 1837). - -IX. Pendant que la fenetre etait ouverte (February 26th, 1837). - -XI. Puisqu'ici-bas toute ame (May 19th, 1836). - -XVI. Passe (April 1st, 1835). - -XVII. Soiree en mer (November 9th, 1836). - -XII. Or Ol ... (May 26th, 1837). - -XXX. Or Olympio (October 15th, 1835). - -XXXI. La tombe dit a la rose (June 3rd, 1837). - - -_C. LES RAYONS ET LES OMBRES_ - -XXII. Guitare (March 14th, 1837). - -XXIII. Autre guitare (July 18th, 1838). - -XXIV. Quand tu me parles de gloire (October 12th, 1837). - -XXVII. Oh! quand je dors, viens aupres de ma couche (June 19th, 1839). - -XXVIII. A une jeune femme (May 16th, 1837). - -XXV. Or cette terre ou l'on ploie (May 20th, 1838). - -XXXIII. L'Ombre (March 1839). - -XXXIV. Tristesse d'Olympio (October 21st, 1837). - -XLI. Dieu qui sourit et qui donne (January 1st, 1840). - - -_D. LES CONTEMPLATIONS_ - -[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE DESIGNED FOR JULIETTE DROUET BY VICTOR HUGO. - -The original belongs to M. Louis Barthou.] - -BOOK II - -II. Mes vers faisaient doux et freles.... - -V. Hier au soir - -XIII. Viens, une flute invisible - -XV. Parole dans l'ombre - -XVII. Sous les arbres - -XX. Il fait froid - -XXI. Il lui disait: Vois-tu, si tous deux nous pouvions - -XXIII. Apres l'hiver - -XXIV. Que le sort quel qu'il soit vous trouve toujours grande - -XXV. Je respire ou tu palpites - -XXVII. Oui, va prier a l'eglise - -XXVIII. Un soir que je regardais le ciel - -BOOK V - -XIV. Claire P.... - -XXIV. J'ai cueilli cette fleur pour toi sur la colline - -BOOK VI - -VIII. Claire - - -_E. TOUTE LA LYRE_ - -BOOK VI. L'AMOUR - -I. Lorsque ma main fremit - -II. Oh, si vous existez, mon ange, mon genie (March 10th, 1833). - -III. Vois-tu, mon ange, il faut accepter nos douleurs (January 1st, -1835). - -IV. Vous m'avez eprouve (June 23rd, 1843). - -XV. Etapes du c[oe]ur. - -VII. A J---- et - -IX. Qu'est-ce que cette annee emporte - -XVII. N'est-ce pas mon amour - -XXXI. Oh dis, te souviens-tu de cet heureux dimanche - -XXXIV. Garde a jamais dans ta memoire - -XXXVI. A une immortelle - -XLVII. Quand deux c[oe]urs en s'aimant - - -II. BOOKS CONCERNING JULIETTE DROUET - -_Les Belles femmes de Paris_, par une societe de gens de lettres et de -gens du monde, Paris, 1839. - -Edmond Bire: _Victor Hugo apres_ 1830. Paris, 1879. - -Alfred Asseline: _Victor Hugo intime_. Paris, 1885. - -Richard Levelide: _Propos de table de Victor Hugo_. Paris, 1885. - -Gustave Rivet: _Victor Hugo chez lui_. Paris, 1885. - -Tristan Legay: _Les amours de Victor Hugo_. Paris, 1901. - -Louis Guimbaud: _Victor Hugo et Juliette Drouet_ in _La Contemporaine_ -of February 25th and March 10th, 1902. - -Leon Seche: _Juliette Drouet_ in the _Revue de Paris_ of February 1st, -1903. - -Wellington Wack: _The Story of Juliette and Victor Hugo_. London and -Paris (no date, about 1906). - -Juana Richard Levelide: _Victor Hugo intime_. Paris, 1907. - -Hector Fleischmann: _Une Maitresse de Victor Hugo_. Paris, 1912. - -Jean Pierre Barbier: _Juliette Drouet, Sa Vie, son Oeuvre_. Paris, 1913. - - -III. WORKS OF ART REPRESENTING JULIETTE DROUET - -"Juliette Drouet in 1827." Statuette by Chaponniere. Only one proof is -known to us; it belongs to M. Daniel Baux Bovy, ex-curator of the Musee -de Geneve. - -"Juliette Drouet in 1830." Portrait in oils by Champmartin (Musee Victor -Hugo). - -"Juliette Drouet as Princesse Negronie." Coloured engraving in the -Martini series. - -"Juliette Drouet." Engraving by Leon Mael, in _L'Artiste_, 1832. - -"Juliette Drouet in 1846." Plaster bust by Victor Vilain (Musee Victor -Hugo). - -"Juliette Drouet at Jersey and Guernsey." Numerous photographs belonging -to Messrs. Blaizot and Planes. - -"Juliette Drouet in 1882." Drawing by Vuillaume in _Le Monde Illustre_ -of December 15th, 1882. - -"Juliette Drouet in 1883." Portrait in oils by Bastien Lepage; exhibited -in the Salon, 1883; now included in the Pereira Collection. - - - - -INDEX - - -Academie Francaise, 60-61 - -Alix, Mademoiselle, 267 - -Anges, Mother des, 5 - - -Barthes, Monsieur de, 74 - -Bernardines, Benedictines of Perpetual Adoration, 3 - -Bertin, Monsieur, 33 - -Biard, Madame, 245 - -Blanc, Madame Louis, 303 - - -Chenay, Madame Julie, 98 - -Constance, Mademoiselle, 253 - - -Dede, Mademoiselle, 232 - -Demousseaux, Madame, 218 - -Dorval, Madame, 12, 49, 142 - -_Drouet, Juliette_: - Her birthplace, 1 - Childhood, 3 - Becomes Pradier's mistress, 8 - Gives birth to a daughter, 8 - Enters theatrical world, 9 - Meets Victor Hugo, 13 - Plays Princesse Negroni, 17 - Falls in love with Victor Hugo, 23 - Denial of imaginary offences, 119 - After her first visit to 6, Place Royale, 121 - Works on Les Feuilles d'Automne, 123 - Suggests leaving Victor Hugo, 125 - Her fears for the future, 127 - Her landlord threatens to evict her, 131 - Farewell for ever, 132 - Leaves Victor Hugo, 30 - Asks for forgiveness, 135 - Four hours before the production of _Angelo_, 143 - An hour after the triumph of _Angelo_, 144 - The house at Metz, 36 - Letters from Metz, 155 - Her request for a portrait, 171 - Lawsuit of Victor Hugo against the Comedie Francaise, 186 - Cash accounts, 188 - Removes to Rue St. Anastase, 46 - Alluding to the revival of _Hernani_, 189 - Revival of M_arion de Lorme_, 192 - Cast for the Queen in _Ruy Blas_, 199 - Comments on _Didine_, 212 - Letter written after the catastrophe in which Victor - Hugo's eldest daughter and his son-in-law perished, 227 - Comments on a speech on deportation, 243 - Letters from Brussels, 251-283 - Residence in Jersey and Guernsey, 84 - Letters from Jersey, 256 - " " Guernsey, 265-286 - " " Paris, 290 - Death 114 - Her last letter, 310 - -Drouet, Rene Henri, 2 - - -Ferrier, Mademoiselle Ida, 28 - -Fougeres, 1 - -Gautier, Theophile, his description of Juliette, 19 - -Gauvain, Julienne Josephine. _See_ Drouet, Juliette - -Georges, Mademoiselle, 11, 12, 143 - -Granier de Cassagnac, 198 - -Guerard, Madame, 184 - - -Harel, Felix, 9, 143 - -Hilaire, Monsieur St., 228 - -Hugo, Charles, 92; - death, 105 - -Hugo, Francois, 92, 293 - -Hugo, Victor (_see also_ Drouet, Juliette) - Meets Juliette, 13 - Revival of _Hernani_, 57 - Becomes an Academician, 62, 216 - His opening speech, 65 - Lives at Jersey and Guernsey, 94 - Elected a member of the Assemblee Nationale, 105 - -Hugo, Madame Victor, 16 - -Joly, Antenor, 202 - -Juliette, Mademoiselle. _See_ Drouet, Juliette - - -Kock, Madame, 30 - -Kraftt, Madame, 133 - - -Lanvin, Madame, 123, 227 - -Lespinasse, Mademoiselle de, 187 - -Lockroy, Madame, 309 - -Luthereau, Madame, 86 - -Luxembourg, 67 - - -Mars, Mademoiselle, 142 - -Maxime, Mademoiselle, 226 - -Mechtilde, Mother Ste., 5 - -Menard, Madame, 301 - -Meurice, Paul, 104 - - -Orleans, Duc d', 225 - - -Pasquier, Monsieur, 144 - -Pierceau, Madame, 144, 218 - -Pradier, Claire, 69; - death, 82 - -Pradier, James, 7; - makes Juliette his mistress, 8; - writes to Juliette, 73, 123 - - -Quelen, Monsignor, Archbishop of Paris, 7 - - -Recamier, Madame, 144 - - -Teleki, 267 - -_Tudor, Marie_, 137 - - -Verdier, Monsieur, 144 - - -Watteville, Madame, 73, 123 - -_Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._ - - -THE PRINCESS MATHILDE BONAPARTE - - By PHILIP W. SERGEANT, Author of "The Last Empress of the French," - etc. - - _Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, fully illustrated, 16/-net._ - -Princess Mathilde Bonaparte, the niece of the great Emperor, died only -ten years ago. She was the first serious passion of her cousin, the -Emperor Napoleon III, and she might have been, if she had wished, -Empress of the French. Instead, she preferred to rule for half a century -over a _salon_ in Paris, where, although not without fault, she was -known as "the good princess." - - -FROM JUNGLE TO ZOO - - By ELLEN VELVIN, F.Z.S., Author of "Behind the Scenes with Wild - Animals," etc. - - _Large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, with many remarkable photographs, - 6/-net._ - -A fascinating record of the many adventures to which wild animals and -their keepers are subject from the time the animals are captured until -their final lodgment in Zoo or menagerie. The author has studied wild -animals for sixteen years, and writes from personal knowledge. The book -is full of exciting stories and good descriptions of the methods of -capture, transportation and caging of savage animals, together with -accounts of their tricks, training, and escapes from captivity. - - -THE ADMIRABLE PAINTER: A study of Leonardo da Vinci - - By A. J. ANDERSON, Author of "The Romance of Fra Filippo Lippi," - "His Magnificence," etc. - - _Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, fully illustrated, 10/6 net._ - -In this book we find Leonardo da Vinci to have been no absorbed, -religious painter, but a man closely allied to every movement of the -brilliant age in which he lived. Leonardo jotted down his thoughts in -his notebooks and elaborated them with his brush, in the modelling of -clay, or in the planning of canals, earthworks and flying-machines. -These notebooks form the groundwork of Mr. Anderson's fascinating study, -which gives us a better understanding of Leonardo, the man, as well as -the painter, than was possible before. - - -WOMEN OF THE REVOLUTIONARY ERA - - By Lieut.-Col. ANDREW C. P. HAGGARD, D.S.O., Author of "Remarkable - Women of France, 1431-1749," etc. - - _Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, fully illustrated, 16/-net._ - -Lieut.-Col. Haggard has many times proved that history can be made as -fascinating as fiction. Here he deals with the women whose more or less -erratic careers influenced, by their love of display, the outbreak which -culminated in the Reign of Terror. Most of them lived till after the -beginning of the Revolution, and some, like Marie Antoinette, Theroigne -de Mericourt and Madame Roland, were sucked down in the maelstrom which -their own actions had intensified. - - -THE MEMOIRS OF THE DUKE DE ST. SIMON - - Newly translated and edited by FRANCIS ARKWRIGHT. - - _In six volumes, demy 8vo, handsomely bound in cloth gilt, with - illustrations in photogravure, 10/6 net each volume. (Volumes I. - and II. are now ready.)_ - -No historian has ever succeeded in placing scenes and persons so vividly -before the eyes of his readers as did the Duke de St. Simon. He was a -born observer; his curiosity was insatiable; he had a keen insight into -character; he knew everybody, and has a hundred anecdotes to relate of -the men and women he describes. He had a singular knack of acquiring the -confidential friendship of men in high office, from whom he learnt -details of important state affairs. For a brief while he served as a -soldier. Afterwards his life was passed at the Court of Louis XIV, where -he won the affectionate intimacy of the Duke of Orleans and the Duke of -Burgundy. St. Simon's famous Memoirs have recently been much neglected -in England, owing to the mass of unnecessary detail overshadowing the -marvellously fascinating chronicle beneath. In this edition, however, -they have been carefully edited and should have an extraordinarily wide -reception. - - -BY THE WATERS OF GERMANY - - By NORMA LORIMER, Author of "A Wife out of Egypt," etc. With a - Preface by Douglas Sladen. - - _Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, with a coloured frontispiece and 16 other - illustrations by_ MARGARET THOMAS _and_ ERNA MICHEL, _12/6 net_. - -This fascinating travel-book describes the land of the Rhine and the -Black Forest, at the present time so much the centre of public interest. -The natural and architectural beauties of Germany are too supreme for -even the sternest German-hater to deny; and this book describes them and -the land around them well. But apart from the love-story which Miss -Lorimer has weaved into the book, a particularly great interest attaches -to her description of the home life of the men who, since she saw them, -have deserved and received the condemnation of the whole civilized -world. - - -BY THE WATERS OF SICILY - - By NORMA LORIMER, Author of "By the Waters of Germany," etc. - - _New and Cheaper Edition, reset from new type, Large Crown 8vo, - cloth gilt, with a coloured frontispiece and 16 other - illustrations, 6/-._ - -This book, the predecessor of "By the Waters of Germany," was called at -the time of its original publication "one of the most original books of -travel ever published." It had at once a big success, but for some time -it has been quite out of print. Full of the vivid colour of Sicilian -life, it is a delightfully picturesque volume, half travel-book, half -story; and there is a sparkle in it, for the author writes as if glad to -be alive in her gorgeously beautiful surroundings. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] Her birth-certificate is drawn up in the following terms: "On April -11th, 1806, at 3 p.m. before me, Louis Pinel, mayor of Fougeres and -registrar of births, deaths, and marriages, Julien Gauvain, tailor, -aged twenty-nine, residing at Rue de la Revolution, Fougeres, presented -a female child, born on the preceding day at 7 a.m., the legitimate -daughter of himself and his wife Marie Caretandet; he declared his -intention of bestowing upon her the names of Julienne-Josephine. The -said declaration and presentation were made in the presence of Francois -Dorange, sheriff's officer, aged twenty-five, residing in Fougeres, and -Francois Paunier, gardener, aged sixty-eight, residing in Lecousse. -This certificate was duly signed by the father and the witnesses, after -the same had been read aloud to them. Signed: Julien Gauvain, Francois -Paunier, Dorange, and Louis Pinel." - -[2] She posed, not, as has been stated, and as we ourselves have -erroneously printed, for statues in the towns of Lille and Strasburg, -but for numerous studies of the head and the nude which Pradier -afterwards made use of; thus the features of Julienne may be recognised -in almost all the rough studies belonging to the first portion of -Pradier's career, which are exhibited under glass in the museum at -Geneva. - -[3] The portrait of Victor Hugo by Deveria has often been reproduced. -It is popular. Leon Noel's lithograph is less known. It is to be found -either in the _Artiste_ in the course of the year 1832 or in the Musee -Victor Hugo. We reproduced it in the _Contemporaine_ of February 25th, -1902. - -[4] Victor Hugo, _Correspondance_. Letter to Sainte-Beuve, August 22nd, -1833. - -[5] Victor Hugo, _Correspondance_. Letter to Sainte-Beuve, July 7th, -1831. - -[6] _Lettres a la Fiancee._ - -[7] Under the heading: _A Ol._ (Olympio) XII. - -[8] Theophile Gautier, _Portraits contemporains_. - -[9] Alphonse Karr, _Une Heure trop tard_. - -[10] We heard it from Monsieur Benezit, who was often with Frederick -Lemaitre about the year 1872. - -[11] Theophile Gautier, _Portraits contemporains_. - -[12] _Lucrece Borgia._ First note to the original edition. - -[13] She was forty-six and beginning to grow fat. According to -Juliette, she told Victor Hugo that his mistress was deceitful, vain, -lawless, and a flirt. - -[14] V. H. Fleischmann, _Une Maitresse de Victor Hugo_, chap. vii. - -[15] Nothing remains of it now, save the name and the site. All the -rest, park, garden, and dwelling, has been completely altered. - -[16] In 1877 Madame Drouet, although seventy-one years old, insisted -upon attending the funeral of Mlle. Louise Bertin. "I wish," she wrote -to Victor Hugo, "to show in this way that I have not forgotten the -marks of sympathy she gave you on my account in the early days of our -love" (_Letter of April 28th, 1877_). - -[17] This inn still exists, and is not changed in any way. It is -exceedingly modest. - -[18] It belongs now to Madame Veuve Bigot. On the left exterior wall a -Versailles society has thought fit to place an inscription recording -that Victor Hugo once inhabited the house. Four lines of _La Tristesse -d'Olympio_ follow. It would have been more correct to bracket the name -of Juliette Drouet with that of the poet, for after all it was not he -who lived there, but she. - -[19] Here occurs the only discrepancy between _La Tristesse d'Olympio_ -and the letters of Juliette. Victor Hugo writes in 1837: "They have -paved this rough, badly-laid road"; whereas Juliette, as early as 1835, -calls it _the pavement_. - -[20] _La Tristesse d'Olympio._ - -[21] See also later, in the collection of letters, the one written -under date of January 25th, 1844. - -[22] September 27th, 1845. - -[23] September 29th, 1845: "I wish I had the money to buy it all before -it is desecrated." Victor Hugo understood her feeling, and a generous -impulse led him to propose to buy the house. The price asked was six -thousand francs. Very delicately Juliette refused. October 7th, 1845. - -[24] 1834. - -[25] December 15th, 1838. - -[26] Theophile Gautier. - -[27] In 1836 Victor Hugo was forced to take legal action against the -Comedie Francaise. He won his case the following year. - -[28] We have proofs of this in two letters from Juliette to Victor Hugo. - -[29] February 1st, 1836. - -[30] It will be remembered that Mlle. Maxime brought an action against -the Comedie and Victor Hugo on that point, which made some considerable -stir. See the articles of Monsieur Jules Claretie in _Le Journal_ of -February 5th, 1902. - -[31] _Les Burgraves_ alternated in the bill with a piece by Madame de -Girardin in which Rachel played the heroine. - -[32] May 30th, 1841. - -[33] The removal took place in the month of February 1845. The rent and -accommodation of the apartment were about the same as at No. 14. The -furnishing, which Victor Hugo wished to make somewhat more luxurious, -cost 2,256 francs, including the first quarter's rent. - -[34] 1833. - -[35] Monsieur Leon Seche, _Revue de Paris_, February 15th, 1903. - -[36] Catalogue of an interesting collection of autograph letters of -which the sale took place on Saturday, November 30th, 1912, page 21. -Paris. Noel Charavay, 1912. In another note dated from Les Metz, Victor -Hugo tells Claire "that he loves her with all his heart, and uses his -best handwriting in writing to her, which is very praiseworthy in -an old student like himself." And he adds, "I kiss both your little -peach-cheeks." (Same, p. 22.) - -[37] Autograph postscript by Victor Hugo to a letter to Juliette on May -28th, 1833, quoted above. - -[38] Pradier did not fail to write a sermon on this occasion full of -the unction and solecisms in which he habitually excelled. - -[39] June 5th, 1841. - -[40] _Les Contemplations_, Livres V., XIV., Claire P. - -[41] One of the sons of the sculptor was called John. - -[42] April 25th, 1845. - -[43] April 27th, 1845. - -[44] The thrilling episode of Victor Hugo's political adventures in -1851, by which his life was placed in jeopardy through his espousal of -the cause of liberty and progress, is related by himself in _L'Histoire -d'un crime_. He was forced to go into hiding in December for several -days, and subsequently made his escape to Brussels in the disguise of -a workman. Juliette had preceded him thither, to prepare a safe refuge -for him.--_Translator's Note._ - -[45] Charles Hugo, _Les Hommes de l'Exil_, p. 104. - -[46] _Ibid._ - -[47] May 18th, 1852. - -[48] This passage constitutes the portion of the Galleries of St. -Hubert situated at right angles to the two others, called respectively, -Passage du Roi, and Passage de la Reine. - -[49] May 24th, 1852. - -[50] A packet of Victor Hugo's love-letters to Madame B. was -treacherously forwarded to her by the lady in question. They extended -over a period of seven years, 1844 to 1851. Victor Hugo had carried -on his secret intrigue with Madame B. while he was daily visiting and -corresponding with Juliette. The discovery of his duplicity almost -broke her heart.--_Translator's Note._ - -[51] Victor Hugo, _Correspondance_, letter to Emile Deschanel, December -11th, 1853. - -[52] January 23rd, 1853. - -[53] It was signed by Felix Pyat, Rougee, and Jourdain. - -[54] Victor Hugo had disposed of the bulk of his furniture in June -1852, but he had stored the things he specially valued at Juliette's -apartment, Cite Rodier. - -[55] These remarks may be verified by the series of photographs of the -poet taken by his sons during his exile and preserved in the Musee -Victor Hugo. Some of the snapshots, as we should call them nowadays, -are an indication of the distress of the great outlaw. - -[56] _Victor Hugo Intime_, by Madame Juana Lesclide. - -[57] A young girl in bad circumstances, to whom Juliette had given -shelter under her own roof, and who thus requited the charity of her -benefactress.--_Translator's Note._ - -[58] Juliette Drouet was buried on May 12th, 1883, in the cemetery -of Saint Mande, near her daughter Claire, under a marble stone she -had selected for herself in 1881. Her funeral was attended by a large -body of journalists. The speech was delivered by Auguste Vacquerie. -According to a letter she wrote to Victor Hugo on November 1st, 1881, -she wished for an epitaph taken from one of the "sublime poems" he had -addressed to her. Her desire was not gratified; the tomb does not even -bear the name of our heroine. - -[59] Juliette Drouet occasionally acted as the poet's secretary. - -[60] This letter is not signed. The envelope is addressed: "M. Victor -Hugo. A quarter to twelve, midnight. I am going to your house." - -[61] Victor Hugo was then living at 6, Place Royale, in the house which -is now the Musee Victor Hugo. Juliette Drouet lived not far away at 4, -Rue de Paradis au Marais, which is now one of the sections of the Rue -des Francs-Bourgeois. - -[62] Juliette's furniture had just been seized, and her landlord was -threatening to evict her. - -[63] Mlle. Mars, who was rehearsing a part in _Angelo_, at the Comedie -Francaise. - -[64] There are traces of tears all over this letter. - -[65] Eugene Hugo, brother of the poet, had just expired. See Number -XXIX of _Voix Interieures, a Eugene, Vicomte Hugo_. - -[66] This is an allusion to the second poem in the _Voix Interieures_: -"Sunt lacrimae...." - -[67] One of the basins in the park of Versailles. - -[68] Victor Hugo had given Juliette a _Quintus Curtius_ in which he had -formerly studied Latin. On the fly-leaf he had written a few words of -dedication. - -[69] A critic. - -[70] Juliette Drouet here enumerates the depreciation of various -stocks. The letter is of course written in a sarcastic vein induced by -_pique_.--_Translator's Note._ - -[71] This is an allusion to the lawsuit of Victor Hugo against the -Comedie Francaise. - -[72] Casimir Delavigne. - -[73] Scribe. - -[74] Juliette's sums were always wrong. - -[75] Alluding to the revival of _Hernani_ at the Comedie Francaise, -January 20th, 1838. - -[76] The revival of _Marion de Lorme_ at the Comedie Francaise was to -take place the next evening, March 8th. - -[77] Granier de Cassagnac, one of the most ardent champions of Victor -Hugo against the classical writers. The poet had introduced him to the -_Journal des Debats_. - -[78] _Ruy Blas._ The poet had considered the propriety of casting -Juliette for the part of the Queen, and had in consequence caused her -to be engaged by the Theatre de la Renaissance. - -[79] The creator of the part of the Queen in _Ruy Blas_. The first -performance had taken place on November 8th. - -[80] Antenor Joly, Manager of the Theatre de la Renaissance. He had -intended to produce Juliette in a musical comedy. - -[81] Victor Hugo had already submitted himself three times as a -candidate for the Academie and was elected the fourth time, that is to -say, the day Juliette wrote this letter. His chief adversary in the -Academie was one of his former rivals, the Vaudevilliste, Dupaty. - -[82] Victor Hugo was received into the Academie by Monsieur de Salvandy -on June 3rd, 1841. - -[83] The poet's children. - -[84] Victor Hugo had been elected Chancellor of the Academie Francaise -on the preceding June 24th. Charles Nodier was the President. - -[85] Francois Victor Hugo, whose childhood was extremely delicate. - -[86] This is an allusion to the recent death of the Duc d'Orleans, the -friend and protector of Victor Hugo. - -[87] Rehearsals of _Burgraves_ at the Comedie Francaise. - -[88] An allusion to the disagreement of the poet with Mdlle. Maxime, to -whom the Comedie Francaise wished to allot the part of _Guachumara_, -and whom he was afterwards able to replace by Mdlle. Theodorine (Mme. -Melingue). - -[89] This letter is written after the catastrophe at Villequier on -September 4th, 1847, in which the eldest daughter and the son-in-law of -the poet perished. - -[90] This is an allusion to a journey Juliette and Victor Hugo had just -made, the account of which had been published in _Alpes et Pyrenees_. - -[91] Probably Ulrich Guttinguer. - -[92] A bronze medal representing Victor Hugo, after the medallion by -David d'Angers. - -[93] This letter was written at Auteuil, where Juliette was living, -with her dying daughter, in a house belonging to the sculptor, Pradier. -Victor Hugo visited her there nearly every day. - -[94] The doctor chosen by Pradier. - -[95] Juliette's own doctor. - -[96] Victor Hugo was then a candidate for the Assemblee Nationale. - -[97] Victor Hugo was to make a speech that day on _La Misere_, vide -_Actes et Paroles_, _Avant l'Exil_. - -[98] Mdlle. Rachel. Arsene Houssaye, who had recently been appointed -Director of the Comedie Francaise, had just introduced Victor Hugo to -the great tragedian. - -[99] A speech on deportation. Vide _Actes et paroles_, _Avant l'Exil_. - -[100] Madame Biard. - -[101] Madame Biard had sent Juliette a packet of Victor Hugo's letters -to her. - -[102] The word "to-day" is left unfinished in the original, thus: -_aujo_.... - -[103] The period when Victor Hugo's intrigue with Madame Biard began. - -[104] On December 2nd, 1851, Victor Hugo held a meeting of the -representatives of the people, at which he drew up a proclamation -addressed to the Army. On the 3rd he presided over a meeting of the -Republicans in the Faubourg St. Antoine. Word was brought that the -troops were marching on the Faubourg. Victor Hugo thereupon delivered -an impassioned appeal to his audience, which concluded in the following -terms: "On one side stand the Army, and a crime--on the other, a -handful of men, and the Right! Such is the struggle. Are you prepared -to carry it through?"--_Translator's note._ - -[105] A troupe of actors passing through Jersey had insisted upon -playing _Angelo_ before the exiled poet. - -[106] Teleki, one of Victor Hugo's friends in Jersey. - -[107] Victor Hugo had taken up photography. - -[108] An allusion to spiritualism to which Victor Hugo had just fallen -a prey. - -[109] Adele Hugo, daughter of the poet. - -[110] Victor Hugo's drawings. He was giving them away indiscriminately -to his friends, and Juliette was jealous. - -[111] Probably one of the poems commemorating the catastrophe of -Villequier. They were collected and republished in _Les Contemplations_. - -[112] Charles Hugo had lost his eldest son, Georges. He gave the same -Christian name to the second, who, with Petite Jeanne, figures in -_L'Art d'etre Grand-pere_. - -[113] Madame Victor Hugo had just died. - -[114] Francois Victor Hugo had just been given up by the doctors. His -slow agony lasted eleven months. - -[115] Francois Victor Hugo died in the course of the day. - -[116] The anniversary of the death of Claire. - -[117] The removal from _Hauteville Feerie_. - -[118] Victor Hugo was to make a speech at the funeral of Madame Louis -Blanc. - -[119] A. Vacquerie and family. - -[120] To the grave of Leopoldine. - -[121] This letter is the last Juliette ever wrote. - -[122] Monsieur Eugene Planes possesses the original editions of _Chants -du Crepuscule_, _Les Voix Interieures_, _Les Rayons et les Ombres_, -dedicated to Juliette and annotated by herself. He has been good -enough to refer to them and verify our list in so far as the three -following collections are concerned. We have included in the selection -only the love-poems directly inspired by Juliette. We have left out -the miscellaneous pieces which were dedicated to her after they were -written, sometimes at her own request. - - * * * * * - -Typographical error corrected by the etext transcriber: - -the silent Bievre=> the silent Bievres {pg 33} - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Juliette Drouet's Love-Letters to -Victor Hugo, by Louis Guimbaud and Juliette Drouet - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JULIETTE DROUET'S LETTERS *** - -***** This file should be named 44034.txt or 44034.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/0/3/44034/ - -Produced by StevenGibbs, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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