《克利松与欧仁妮》

CLISSON AND EUGÉNIE Napoleon Bonaparte Translated from the French by Peter Hicks Gallic Books 2009 10 1 Nick Word PDF Epub 2012 2 7 FROM birth Clisson was strongly attracted to war. Whilst others of his age were still listening avidly to fireside tales, he was ardently dreaming of battle. As soon as he was old enough to bear arms, he took part in military campaigns, always distinguishing himself with acts of gallantry. Although still a boy, his natural ability and his love of action led him to attain the highest rank in the Revolutionary National Guard. Soon he had even exceeded the high expectations people had of him: victory was his constant companion. But envy and all the petty jealousies that growing reputations attract, which ruin so many able men and so often stifle genius, brought false accusations against him. His cool head and moderation in the face of these attempts to sully his name served only to increase the number of his enemies. They said that his magnanimity was pride, that his firmness was insolence; even his triumphs were held against him and used as pretexts to bring him down. He began to tire of serving men who did not value him. He felt the need to retreat into himself. For the first time, he turned his gaze upon his life, his inclinations and his situation. Like all men, he desired happiness, but he had found only glory. This turning in on himself, this introspection, caused Clisson to realise that he was not just interested in war and that he had other inclinations than to cause destruction. It was as important to nurture and improve the lot of men, and to make them happy, as to destroy them. He desired a period of reflection to try to sort out the host of new ideas that for several days had been besieging his soul. He left the army camp and went swiftly to seek the hospitality of a friend in Champvert, near Lyons. The man’s estate, on one of the best sites near that grand town, combined all the beauty that art and fair nature could produce. Clisson stayed with his friend, trying to determine how he might find happiness, now that he had abandoned his illusions of glory. He did not spend much time inside the house. His friend very often entertained, receiving guests of high rank and station, and Clisson found the petty formalities irksome. A man of his fervent imagination, with his blazing heart, his uncompromising intellect and his cool head, was bound to be irritated by the affected conversation of coquettes, the games of seduction, the logic of the tables and the hurling of witty insults. He could not see the point in scheming and did not appreciate wordplay. His life was solitary, and he was completely bound up by a single thought, which he had not yet been able to formulate or to understand, though it overpowered his whole being. Since he was accustomed to hardship, he needed action and plenty of physical activity. No occupation brought him greater pleasure than to wander in the woods. There he felt at peace with himself, scorning human wickedness and despising folly and cruelty. Clisson was surprised to find himself enchanted by the sights he saw. The birth and the close of day, the course of the evening star as it cast its silvery light over copse and field, the changing seasons, the varying vistas, the concerts of birdsong, the murmuring waters - everything struck him as if he were seeing it for the first time. And yet he was looking at things he had seen a thousand times before without ever having been affected in this way. How miserable he had been in his previous life. Not only had he witnessed the destruction of his fellow men but he had also been punished because his soul, victim of illusion, excitement and apprehension, had been blind to the beauties and insensible to the pleasures of nature. Since he was naturally sceptical, Clisson became melancholy. In his heart, reverie had replaced reflection. He no longer had anything to work towards, to fear, or to hope for. This state of tranquillity, so new to his spirit, might quickly have become stupor, without his being aware of it. From dawn to dusk, as he wandered in the countryside he was moved by the plight of the unfortunate people he came across, and lent them a helping hand. The spa baths at All s are about one league from Champvert. Many people went there to enjoy the coolness of the climate. Right from the start he saw this place as a landscape of emotions. It was a realm of enchantment, and he missed not a single day. Unknown as he was, he wandered amongst the throng of ‘hearts’. He gazed with interest at the beauty of the women and their dresses, mostly made of linen. People feel comfortable while taking the waters and he was able to engage in a great number of conversations (inconsequential in themselves but a contact nevertheless), which brought him relief from his melancholy and solitude. 4.8 One day when it had rained the day before, there were very few people at the spa. He noticed two young women who seemed to be enjoying themselves as they took their stroll; they walked with the lightness and energy of sixteen-year-olds. Am lie had beautifully set eyes, a slender and elegant figure, a bright complexion, a slightly oval face and an alabaster-white neck; she was seventeen. Eug nie was a year younger and not as pretty. When Am lie looked at you she seemed to be saying: ‘You find me pretty; perhaps you are even in love with me. But you should know that you are not the only one; and you will only attract my attention by flattering me. I like compliments, and I love allowing people to make them to me.’ Eug nie never looked at a man directly. When she gave her sweet smile, she revealed beautifully arranged pearly white teeth. If someone made as if to take her hand, she would proffer it timidly, but then take it away again as quickly as possible. It was as if she were afraid to show her pretty hand, where the blue of the veins contrasted with the whiteness of her skin. Am lie had the same effect as a piece of French music that everyone listens to with pleasure because they appreciate the succession of chords and are soothed by the harmony. Eug nie, on the other hand, was like a piece by Paesiello which transports and elevates only those souls born to appreciate it, leaving ordinary people unaffected. Am lie seemed to command young men to love her, whilst Eug nie appealed to ardent men, who love not as a pastime or as a contest but rather with a deep and committed passion. For the former, love came through beauty; for the latter, it could only come from real empathy. Many men had been Eug nie’s friend. But she was only prepared to share her more intimate feelings with one of them. Clisson was drawn to Am lie by her fresh face and beautiful eyes. He contrived to find an opportunity to talk to the two girls and to accompany them to their country house, where he asked them if he might come to see them from time to time. He could not stop thinking about the two pretty girls he had just encountered. He never tired of recalling Am lie’s face and going over what she had said; he was allowing himself to become besotted with her. But the vision of the silent, modest Eug nie kept getting in.the way. She had had a strange effect on his heart, which disturbed the pleasure of the memory of the beautiful Am lie. As for the two young women, they had each been affected very differently by Clisson. Am lie upbraided Eug nie for not having hidden the displeasure that the stranger’s conversation had inspired in her. Am lie found him sombre but distinguished-looking and refreshingly honest. Eug nie thought that Am lie had been too open with him. Her heart was troubled, and she believed that her unease stemmed from a great aversion she had conceived for the stranger; she could, however, find neither explanation nor justification for her aversion. The next day, Am lie tried in vain to get Eug nie to agree to come to the spa, stubbornly pressing her case. But Eug nie would not countenance it and rose immediately on Am lie’s departure to write to her sister and then to walk around the estate. Clisson was there already when Am lie arrived; andthey picked up again like old friends. The freedom of the spa and the relaxed holiday atmosphere banished all formality and etiquette. They stayed several hours together, looking critically at the women in love; and the amiable, beautiful and charming Am lie returned home having formed an excellent opinion of Clisson. It was true she did not find him particularly seductive, but he was pleasant. She spoke only of Clisson all day long and persuaded Eug nie to take the waters the following day. Eug nie, meanwhile, had meditated a great deal upon some of the things the stranger had said; she did not know whether to hate him or to be impressed by him. The day before, Clisson and Am lie had tacitly agreed to meet. Clisson was careful not to miss the assignation. But when from afar he saw Am lie approaching, he was annoyed to see her with her friend. Eug nie, for her part, listened but either did not reply or answered indifferently. She fixed her eyes on the stranger’s, and never tired of looking at him. ‘What is the matter with him? How sombre and pensive he is!His glance has all the maturity of old age, but his physiognomy reveals the languor of adolescence.’ And then Eug nie became angry to see him so absorbed by Am lie. She feigned tiredness and persuaded the group to turn back to their country house. Here they were met by her doctor, who visited them from time to time. The doctor was astounded to see Am lie with Clisson, whom he did not bother to greet, although Am lie introduced him with the words ‘Monsieur Clisson’. ‘Excuse me,’ said Eug nie to Clisson, interrupting Am lie’s introduction, ‘we have heard so much about you, I would very much like to get to know you better.’ The sound of her voice and her physical appearance spoke to Clisson’s heart and he looked at her more attentively. Their eyes met. Their hearts fused, and not many days were to pass before they realised that their hearts were made to love each other. His love was the most passionate and chaste that had ever moved a man’s heart. Eug nie, who had hitherto dedicated her heart to friendship, who had thought herself insensible to love, felt the full blaze of it. Clisson no longer pitiedhimself, no longer worried about other men, enemies and war. From now on he lived only for Eug nie. They met frequently. They often felt as if their souls were one. They overcame all obstacles and were joined for ever. All that is the most honourable in love, the tenderest feelings, the most exquisite voluptuousness flooded the hearts of the two enraptured lovers. They abandoned themselves fully to the healthy temptation to confess their love, to pour out their feelings tenderly and to join together their hearts, their thoughts and their souls. Gentle tears, their souls’ bonds, guaranteed their happiness. Clisson forgot about war and despised his former life when he had lived without Eug nie, without drawing every breath for her. He gave himself up to love and renounced all thought of glory. Months and years sped by like hours. They had children and remained deeply in love. Eug nie loved as steadfastly as she was loved in return. There was no sorrow, no pleasure or worry that they did not share entirely. You would have said that nature had given them the same heart, the same soul,the same feelings. Every night Eug nie slept with her head on her lover’s shoulder, or in his arms. They spent every day together, bringing up their children, tending their garden and running their household. In his new life with Eug nie, Clisson had certainly avenged the injustice of men. Indeed, he barely thought of it any more; it seemed to him like a dream. The world, the people around them, their neighbours had completely forgotten what Clisson had once been. Eug nie and Clisson lived a secluded life, delighting in love, nature and rustic simplicity. Some thought them mad, others misanthropic, only the poor appreciated them and blessed them, which consoled them for the disdain of fools. Though she was already twenty-two, Eug nie felt as if she were still in the first year of her marriage. Never before perhaps had the aspirations of two souls been so perfectly bonded; never had love, in all its caprices, united two such different characters. Life with a man as talented as Clisson had been the making of Eug nie. Her mind had become cultivated and her exceedingly tender and weak emotions had taken on the strength and energy required of the mother of Clisson’s children. Clisson himself was no longer gloomy or sad. His character had acquired the gentleness and graciousness of his beloved. Military honours, which had accustomed him to high command, had made him haughty and sometimes harsh; Eug nie’s love now made him more sympathetic and more flexible. They saw few people, and they were not well known even to their neighbours; their only contact with the outside world was when they helped the poor. It was at the beginning of their seventh year of marriage, in short when the family was still young, that the bonds of their love were strengthened by the joy of children. The heat was excessive. A terrible storm covered the horizon. Rain and flashes of lightning darkened and illuminated the sky. Eug nie burst into tears, oppressed by a dreadful pain. She clasped her beloved tightly to her breast. Sophie began to cry at her mother’s pain, hiding in her skirts and hugging her knees with her little hands. ‘My beloved, my wife, happy mother of my children, why, Eug nie, are your beautiful eyes wet with tears? You lack something; your heart is closed and empty! You often cry alone. You cry too when you are with the children. It is as if your heart were shut away in the corners of your soul. Wisdom and common sense seem unable to reach you.’ ‘The world is covered with thick clouds, scored by lightning, thunder, torrential rain My soul, like nature, is agitated.’ Eug nie, surrounded by her family, was in the grip of panic and she felt quite ill. Her heart was weighed down by pain. Clisson had gone hunting, and he came back soaked to the skin; he had been away for six hours. He tried to get his wife to look him in the eye, and he pressed his children to his breast. They were all sad;Eug nie felt oppressed and suffocated by the pain. He noticed this and his heart went out to her. Taking her in his arms, he spoke to her firmly. ‘You are sad. And there are things that you keep secret from me.’ ‘My beloved,’ she said to him, ‘I did not wish to burden you with my pain. My soul is prey to ghastly premonitions. I see an impenetrable cloud before me, and it is sapping my power. Ah, Clisson! There is only one dreadful fate that could justify my panic, namely, that you stop loving me. If ever that happens, take my life with your own hands.’ Clisson, whom esteem, love and nature had tied irrevocably to Eug nie, used every means he could to bring her back to reason and happiness. He took Sophie in his arms. ‘ Dearest Eug nie, I swear to you, on the life of our daughter Sophie, that I will love you for ever. But as for you, do not torture me. Must you invent reasons to panic when my heart is so tranquil?’ They prolonged their conversation into the night and the darkness, going to bed very late. But just as they had fallen asleep, Clisson was awakened by the noisy arrival of a carriage and horses. He got up and saw one of his old couriers bringing him a letter from the government. It was an order to leave for Paris within twenty-four hours. There he was to be given an important mission, which called for a man of his talents. Poor Eug nie! You sleep on as they take away your lover! ‘So that is the explanation of this terrible mystery,’ she cried. ‘My dreadful fate is coming to pass. Oh, Clisson, you are abandoning me, and you are once again to be faced with the folly of men and the chances of fortune. Adieu, my happiness, adieu, happy days, so few and yet so infinitely cruel; and now so priceless.’ She was pale and weakened, and her voice faded. Clisson himself was hardly any calmer, but he had to go. He was soon leading an army. But he did not take a single step without remembering Eug nie and recalling all the ways she had demonstrated her love for him. His name was the signal for victory and his talents and fortune raised him up. He was a success at everything; he exceeded the hopes of the people and the army; indeed, he alone was the reason for the army’s successes. Clisson, still so young and so important to his family and his fatherland; was he to die before his time? He had been separated from his love for several years. But never a day went by without his receiving from Eug nie the most tender of letters, giving him strength and feeding his love. One evening, however, Eug nie wrote to him: ‘I am worried and unhappy. I feel numb. Come to me without delay. Only the sight of you will cure me. Last night I dreamt you were on your deathbed. The life had gone out of your beautiful eyes, your mouth was lifeless, you had lost all your colour. I threw myself on your body: it was icy cold. I wanted to revive you with my breath, to bring you warmth and life. But you could no longer hear me. You no longer knew me.’ On another occasion, Clisson wrote to her: ‘You are ill. They told me the state you are in, although your letters and my premonitions had already given me a good idea. Last night I saw you sleeping, tormented by something, I know not what. The night before, I dreamt I was in your bedroom. I was watching over you. You were breathing your last, suffering the pains of death. I took your hand and bathed it with my tears. You came to and turned your head towards me. You recognised me, shook me and gave a sharp cry. You pushed me away indignantly. Then you turned your back on me, so as not to look at me any more. And when I awoke, I was in terrible pain, almost dead.’ In a skirmish, Clisson was forced into an exposed position and then seriously wounded; his renownserved only to increase his woes. He dispatched Berville, one of his officers, to inform his wife that he had been wounded and to keep her company until he had made a full recovery. Berville was at the dawn of his emotional life. His heart had not yet loved. He was like the traveller who, exhausted and lost at the end of a long day’s journey, casts his eyes around to find somewhere to rest for the night: he was looking for a place to lodge his heart. He laid eyes on Eug nie, he blended his tears with hers, he shared her cares; and all day long they talked of Clisson and his misfortune. He thought that his young heart - still a novice in emotional matters - was moved by sympathetic friendship. But a passion, all the more frenzied because it was hidden, unbeknownst even to himself, had seized him. He idolised Eug nie. She was not in the least on her guard with respect to her husband’s friend. Her letters to Clisson became shorter and less frequent. He began to be assailed by terrible doubts. He had now completely recovered from his glorious wounds, but he