Dangerous Letters

Chapter Sixteen

Letter XXXIII

December 18, 17--

Dear Lady F---,

You must not condemn me too harshly for my failure in replying sooner; your letter came to my usual address and then was forwarded onto P---- where I have been in residence for the past two weeks. I am greatly enjoying my apartments; they are richly furnished, the rooms lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable to the fortune of its proprietor, my master, which, under the watchful gaze of the Parisienne domestique here, has been done with much gaudy pomp and splendour so that the every chair has a thousand tassels and every fireplace a fine, high arch and two more spiralling columns than necessary. My bedchamber features a very grand four-post bed, crimson silk damask wallcoverings, ornate cornicing and an elaborate gilded ceiling – such extravagance that I have never seen outside one of those paintings that depict one of their majesties imperiously lounging in a palatial estate.

P---- is a tremendous city, full of bustle and life, and I have had the most wonderful stay here. You will be delighted to know that I diligently visited all the cathedrals you have ever recommended in the city and was especially awed by the gothic façade of Sainte-Chapelle, with those reverent stain-glass windows that was like walking through a waking dream. If I could spend every day there, like the Priests, with my head bowed in silence, contemplating the Lord in his splendid House, I should know true peace and contentment. I pray that I have cause to return again some day.

I am certain that the poem you forwarded deserved all the praise heaped upon it, I fear that, though the lines were very pretty, I could not find them humour it undoubtedly intended. Assuredly, my anglais is too poor to properly appreciate the foreign satire – although it serves me very well for I am about to meet a young lady who has been living in E------- for some time and so I welcome any insight into their kingdom which, at present, I know notably little about other than what is common knowledge. Or what I have been recently instructed in regarding their hat fashion. I did read certain passages to young Villette, mainly those you had already pre-selected, and perhaps her fluency allowed her to delight in it more – for hours afterwards, she did not stop reciting her favourite lines. Sometimes, I almost find her precocity unsettling. I now find that she is as likely to correct me during lessons as I her.

I thank you again for your letter, my Lady, and entreat you to kindly send more of the writing you encounter abroad.

Your humble servant,

Charlotte B-----

Letter XXXIV

December 26, 17--

Dear Mother and Father,

I hope you have received my open letter and Christmas tidings; which I obtained, at a very reasonable cost, in a very remarkable selection, from a P---- vendor. I have one for you, the Robins, another for Hannah, children in the snow, and a third for the good M-----------s of the nativity scene.

How quickly the post travels to here! I have received yours of the 3rd and am so happy to hear that Jacq and little Bea are growing up well. You must remind me of them as often as you can; I fear that in my absence I will grow to become a stranger to them upon my return. I miss all of you so much that sometimes I ache from it. But do not feel that anything is truly amiss, beloved parents, aside from the pain of being separated from you - I am quite well and have been enjoying the adventure of being in such a large city for the first time.

You have posed so many enquiries – I am sure that is mother's doing – I scarcely know where to begin. I have indeed watched a theatrical performance, this one founded on the story of the "Mock Doctor". The farce, termed ballet, was a kind of pantomime, the childish incidents of which were sufficient to show the state of the dramatic art in Denmark, and the gross taste of the audience. A magician, in the disguise of a tinker, enters a cottage where the women are all busy ironing, and rubs a dirty frying-pan against the linen. The women raise a hue-and-cry, and dance after him, rousing their husbands, who join in the dance, but get the start of them in the pursuit. The tinker, with the frying-pan for a shield, renders them immovable, and blacks their cheeks. Each laughs at the other, unconscious of his own appearance; meanwhile the women enter to enjoy the sport, "the rare fun," with other incidents of the same species.

The singing was much on a par with the dancing, the one as destitute of grace as the other of expression; but the orchestra was well filled, the instrumental being far superior to the vocal music.

I have likewise visited the public library and museum, as well as the palace of Rosembourg. This palace, now deserted, displays a gloomy kind of grandeur throughout, for the silence of spacious apartments always makes itself to be felt; I at least feel it, and I listen for the sound of my footsteps as I have done at midnight to the ticking of the death-watch, encouraging a kind of fanciful superstition. Every object carried me back to past times, and impressed the manners of the age forcibly on my mind. In this point of view the preservation of old palaces and their tarnished furniture is useful, for they may be considered as historical documents.

The vacuum left by departed greatness was everywhere observable, whilst the battles and processions portrayed on the walls told you who had here excited revelry after retiring from slaughter, or dismissed pageantry in search of pleasure. It seemed a vast tomb full of the shadowy phantoms of those who had played or toiled their hour out and sunk behind the tapestry which celebrated the conquests of love or war. Could they be no more—to whom my imagination thus gave life? Could the thoughts, of which there remained so many vestiges, have vanished quite away? And these beings, composed of such noble materials of thinking and feeling, have they only melted into the elements to keep in motion the grand mass of life? It cannot be!—as easily could I believe that the large silver lions at the top of the banqueting room thought and reasoned. But avaunt! ye waking dreams! yet I cannot describe the curiosities to you.

There were cabinets full of baubles and gems, and swords which must have been wielded by giant's hand. The coronation ornaments wait quietly here till wanted, and the wardrobe exhibits the vestments which formerly graced these shows. It is a pity they do not lend them to the actors, instead of allowing them to perish ingloriously.

Of course, my amusement was slightly disrupted by the Parisienne who proved incapable of quietness, making exclamatives to herself or, just as often, leaning over to loudly offer an opinion that she found the entertainment "lacking" or "bland", which was proclaimed with such volume that I am sure the actors faltered once or twice. She is a most contentious person – but I did gain some interesting information from her. Knowing her delight in gossip, I casually asked at tea a few days ago – "I wonder how the Master's first wife perished?"

"Oh, lords," she cried, "well, I'm never one to spin a tale, but what I will say is that it was quite tragic – " here her voice dropped into a mock-whisper, still hissingly loud, "a terrible accident you know, she had a damning fall. And what's worse, the young Mademoiselle, Villette, found the body! Do you imagine!"

"Villette?" I said, my heart aching in sympathy for my little ward, "God Lord above, the poor child."

"Well... she was only three or four. She won't remember any of it; children, you know, are quite simple, thoughtless creatures – I am quite glad I was never one."

As I said, a most detestable woman but I am rather perturbed by this revelation. My darling Villette, to have seen something so terrible at such a young age – but she has never mentioned it. Perhaps she does not remember. I am too fearful that inquiring further might inadvertently bring to light what she has forgotten. I am curious to know what you think, dear mama and papa? I am sure you feel as sorry as I.

A light snowfall has begun here; how pretty it is! That is Lette at my door now, as if we may venture down for a better look. I must oblige and so I will conclude, as your loving daughter,

Charlotte