Eclectic Magazine of Foreign Literature, Science, and Art, June 1885Various
History
Eclectic Magazine of Foreign Literature, Science, and Art, June 1885
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Literature -- Periodicals
“Our dear papa,” she says, “is very much
taken up with his harvest. He has adopted a
mode of threshing out his corn, which accomplishes
in three weeks what used to occupy five
or six. He works very hard all day, and is off
rake in hand at daybreak. We women sit on
the heaps of corn reading and working for
hours together.”
She describes a carnival at Nohant in 1826, four years after her
marriage, when she sits up three nights a week dancing, “Obligations
which have to be accepted in life.” Obligations which seem to be
grateful enough to her, although she only amuses herself by the light
of three candles, with an orchestra composed of a hurdy-gurdy and
bagpipes.
Certain disturbing elements seem however, as the year goes on, to
agitate the domestic barometer. They make a journey to Bordeaux, and
there the society, although not brilliant, is more attractive than
that of Nohant—the prospect of returning to the “three candles and the
hurdy-gurdy” seems to frighten her—and she complains of Casimir’s want
of “intellectual” energy: “Paresseux de l’esprit, et enragé des jambes.”
“Cold, wet, nothing keeps him at home; whenever he comes in it is
either to eat or to snore.” In writing about some commissions which
her mother has executed for her in Paris, she says: “Casimir asks me
to express his gratitude; it is a sentiment which we can _still_ feel
in common.” Rustic duties pall upon her, her appetite and health fail,
she is reduced to “looking at the stars, instead of sleeping.” “My
existence is passed in a complete state of mental solitude surrounded
by unsympathetic, commonplace people, some of whom deface their lives
by coarse inebriety.” She here alludes to her brother, Hippolyte, who
destroyed his own and his wife’s happiness by his drunken habits.
The only event that brightened her sadness was the arrival of a young
tutor for her children, M. Jules Boucoiran, who always, as she says,
remained her devoted friend and ally.
She thus whimsically relates an incident small in itself, but one that
made an impression on her owing to the existing circumstances:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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