Colleville
Thuillier had entered the ministry
of finance as supernumerary at the same time as Colleville,
who has been mentioned already as his intimate friend.
In opposition to the well-regulated, gloomy household
of Thuillier, social nature had provided that of Colleville;
and if it is impossible not to remark that this fortuitous
contrast was scarcely moral, we must add that, before
deciding that point, it would be well to wait for
the end of this drama, unfortunately too true, for
which the present historian is not responsible.
Colleville was the only son of a talented
musician, formerly first violin at the Opera under
Francoeur and Rebel, who related, at least six times
a month during his lifetime, anecdotes concerning the
representations of the “Village Seer”;
and mimicked Jean-Jacques Rousseau, taking him off
to perfection. Colleville and Thuillier were
inseparable friends; they had no secrets from each
other, and their friendship, begun at fifteen years
of age, had never known a cloud up to the year 1839.
The former was one of those employees who are called,
in the government offices, pluralists. These clerks
are remarkable for their industry. Colleville,
a good musician, owed to the name and influence of
his father a situation as first clarionet at the Opera-Comique,
and so long as he was a bachelor, Colleville, who
was rather richer than Thuillier, shared his means
with his friend. But, unlike Thuillier, Colleville
married for love a Mademoiselle Flavie, the natural
daughter of a celebrated danseuse at the Opera; her
reputed father being a certain du Bourguier, one of
the richest contractors of the day. In style
and origin, Flavie was apparently destined for a melancholy
career, when Colleville, often sent to her mother’s
apartments, fell in love with her and married her.
Prince Galathionne, who at that time was “protecting”
the danseuse, then approaching the end of her brilliant
career, gave Flavie a “dot” of twenty
thousand francs, to which her mother added a magnificent
trousseau. Other friends and opera-comrades sent
jewels and silver-ware, so that the Colleville household
was far richer in superfluities than in capital.
Flavie, brought up in opulence, began her married
life in a charming apartment, furnished by her mother’s
upholsterer, where the young wife, who was full of
taste for art and for artists, and possessed a certain
elegance, ruled, a queen.
Madame Colleville was pretty and piquant,
clever, gay, and graceful; to express her in one sentence,—a
charming creature. Her mother, the danseuse,
now forty-three years old, retired from the stage and
went to live in the country,—thus depriving
her daughter of the resources derived from her wasteful
extravagance. Madame Colleville kept a very agreeable
but extremely free and easy household. From 1816
to 1826 she had five children. Colleville, a
musician in the evening, kept the books of a merchant
from seven to nine in the morning, and by ten o’clock
he was at his ministry. Thus, by blowing into
a bit of wood by night, and writing double-entry accounts
in the early morning, he managed to eke out his earnings
to seven or eight thousand francs a year.
Madame Colleville played the part
of a “comme il faut” woman; she received
on Wednesdays, gave a concert once a month and a dinner
every fortnight. She never saw Colleville except
at dinner and at night, when he returned about twelve
o’clock, at which hour she was frequently not
at home herself. She went to the theatres, where
boxes were sometimes given to her; and she would send
word to Colleville to come and fetch her from such
or such a house, where she was supping and dancing.
At her own house, guests found excellent cheer, and
her society, though rather mixed, was very amusing;
she received and welcomed actresses, artists, men
of letters, and a few rich men. Madame Colleville’s
elegance was on a par with that of Tullia, the leading
prima-donna, with whom she was intimate; but though
the Collevilles encroached on their capital and were
often in difficulty by the end of the month, Flavie
was never in debt.
Colleville was very happy; he still
loved his wife, and he made himself her best friend.
Always received by her with affectionate smiles and
sympathetic pleasure, he yielded readily to the irresistible
grace of her manners. The vehement activity with
which he pursued his three avocations was a part of
his natural character and temperament. He was
a fine stout man, ruddy, jovial, extravagant, and
full of ideas. In ten years there was never a
quarrel in his household. Among business men
he was looked upon, in common with all artists, as
a scatter-brained fellow; and superficial persons thought
that the constant hurry of this hard worker was only
the restless coming and going of a busybody.
Colleville had the sense to seem stupid;
he boasted of his family happiness, and gave himself
unheard-of trouble in making anagrams, in order at
times to seem absorbed in that passion. The government
clerks of his division at the ministry, the office
directors, and even the heads of divisions came to
his concerts; now and then he quietly bestowed upon
them opera tickets, when he needed some extra indulgence
on account of his frequent absence. Rehearsals
took half the time that he ought to have been at his
desk; but the musical knowledge his father had bequeathed
to him was sufficiently genuine and well-grounded
to excuse him from all but final rehearsals. Thanks
to Madame Colleville’s intimacies, both the
theatre and the ministry lent themselves kindly to
the needs of this industrious pluralist, who, moreover,
was bringing up, with great care, a youth, warmly
recommended to him by his wife, a future great musician,
who sometimes took his place in the orchestra with
a promise of eventually succeeding him. In fact,
about the year 1827 this young man became the first
clarionet when Colleville resigned his position.
The usual comment on Flavie was, “That
little slip of a coquette, Madame Colleville.”
The eldest of the Colleville children, born in 1816,
was the living image of Colleville himself. In
1818, Madame Colleville held the cavalry in high estimation,
above even art; and she distinguished more particularly
a sub-lieutenant in the dragoons of Saint-Chamans,
the young and rich Charles de Gondreville, who afterwards
died in the Spanish campaign. By that time Flavie
had had a second son, whom she henceforth dedicated
to a military career. In 1820 she considered
banking the nursing mother of trade, the supporter
of Nations, and she made the great Keller, that famous
banker and orator, her idol. She then had another
son, whom she named Francois, resolving to make him
a merchant,—feeling sure that Keller’s
influence would never fail him. About the close
of the year 1820, Thuillier, the intimate friend of
Monsieur and Madame Colleville, felt the need of pouring
his sorrows into the bosom of this excellent woman,
and to her he related his conjugal miseries. For
six years he had longed to have children, but God
did not bless him; although that poor Madame Thuillier
had made novenas, and had even gone, uselessly, to
Notra-Dame de Liesse! He depicted Celeste in various
lights, which brought the words “Poor Thuillier!”
from Flavie’s lips. She herself was rather
sad, having at the moment no dominant opinion.
She poured her own griefs into Thuillier’s bosom.
The great Keller, that hero of the Left, was, in reality,
extremely petty; she had learned to know the other
side of public fame, the follies of banking, the emptiness
of eloquence! The orator only spoke for show;
to her he had behaved extremely ill. Thuillier
was indignant. “None but stupid fellows
know how to love,” he said; “take me!”
That handsome Thuillier was henceforth supposed to
be paying court to Madame Colleville, and was rated
as one of her “attentives,”—a
word in vogue during the Empire.
“Ha! you are after my wife,”
said Colleville, laughing. “Take care;
she’ll leave you in the lurch, like all the rest.”
A rather clever speech, by which Colleville
saved his marital dignity. From 1820 to 1821,
Thuillier, in virtue of his title as friend of the
family, helped Colleville, who had formerly helped
him; so much so, that in eighteen months he had lent
nearly ten thousand francs to the Colleville establishment,
with no intention of ever claiming them. In the
spring of 1821, Madame Colleville gave birth to a charming
little girl, to whom Monsieur and Madame Thuillier
were godfather and godmother. The child was baptized
Celeste-Louise-Caroline-Brigitte; Mademoiselle Thuillier
wishing that her name should be given among others
to the little angel. The name of Caroline was
a graceful attention paid to Colleville. Old
mother Lemprun assumed the care of putting the baby
to nurse under her own eyes at Auteuil, where Celeste
and her sister-in-law Brigitte, paid it regularly a
semi-weekly visit.
As soon as Madame Colleville recovered
she said to Thuillier, frankly, in a very serious
tone:—
“My dear friend, if we are all
to remain good friends, you must be our friend only.
Colleville is attached to you; well, that’s enough
for you in this household.”
“Explain to me,” said
the handsome Thuillier to Tullia after this remark,
“why women are never attached to me. I am
not the Apollo Belvidere, but for all that I’m
not a Vulcan; I am passably good-looking, I have sense,
I am faithful—”
“Do you want me to tell you the truth?”
replied Tullia.
“Yes,” said Thuillier.
“Well, though we can, sometimes,
love a stupid fellow, we never love a silly one.”
Those words killed Thuillier; he never
got over them; henceforth he was a prey to melancholy
and accused all women of caprice.
The secretary-general of the ministry,
des Lupeaulx, whose influence Madame Colleville thought
greater than it was, and of whom she said, later,
“That was one of my mistakes,” became for
a time the great man of the Colleville salon; but
as Flavie found he had no power to promote Colleville
into the upper division, she had the good sense to
resent des Lupeaulx’s attentions to Madame Rabourdin
(whom she called a minx), to whose house she had never
been invited, and who had twice had the impertinence
not to come to the Colleville concerts.
Madame Colleville was deeply affected
by the death of young Gondreville; she felt, she said,
the finger of God. In 1824 she turned over a
new leaf, talked of economy, stopped her receptions,
busied herself with her children, determined to become
a good mother of a family; no favorite friend was
seen at her house. She went to church, reformed
her dress, wore gray, and talked Catholicism, mysticism,
and so forth. All this produced, in 1825, another
little son, whom she named Theodore. Soon after,
in 1826, Colleville was appointed sub-director of
the Clergeot division, and later, in 1828, collector
of taxes in a Paris arrondissement. He also received
the cross of the Legion of honor, to enable him to
put his daughter at the royal school of Saint-Denis.
The half-scholarship obtained by Keller for the eldest
boy, Charles, was transferred to the second in 1830,
when Charles entered the school of Saint-Louis on
a full scholarship. The third son, taken under
the protection of Madame la Dauphine, was provided
with a three-quarter scholarship in the Henri IV. school.
In 1830 Colleville, who had the good
fortune not to lose a child, was obliged, owing to
his well-known attachment to the fallen royal family,
to send in his resignation; but he was clever enough
to make a bargain for it,—obtaining in
exchange a pension of two thousand four hundred francs,
based on his period of service, and ten thousand francs
indemnity paid by his successor; he also received the
rank of officer of the Legion of honor. Nevertheless,
he found himself in rather a cramped condition when
Mademoiselle Thuillier, in 1832, advised him to come
and live near them; pointing out to him the possibility
of obtaining some position in the mayor’s office,
which, in fact, he did obtain a few weeks later, at
a salary of three thousand francs. Thus Thuillier
and Colleville were destined to end their days together.
In 1833 Madame Colleville, then thirty-five years
old, settled herself in the rue d’Enfer, at the
corner of the rue des Deux-Eglises with Celeste and
little Theodore, the other boys being at their several
schools. Colleville was equidistant between the
mayor’s office and the rue Saint-Dominique d’Enfer.
Thus the household, after a brilliant, gay, headlong,
reformed, and calmed existence, subsided finally into
bourgeois obscurity with five thousand four hundred
francs a year for its sole dependence.
Celeste was by this time twelve years
of age, and she promised to be pretty. She needed
masters, and her education ought to cost not less
than two thousand francs a year. The mother felt
the necessity of keeping her under the eye of her
godfather and godmother. She therefore very willingly
adopted the proposal of Mademoiselle Thuillier, who,
without committing herself to any engagement, allowed
Madame Colleville to understand that the fortunes of
her brother, his wife, and herself would go, ultimately,
to the little Celeste. The child had been left
at Auteuil until she was seven years of age, adored
by the good old Madame Lemprun, who died in 1829, leaving
twenty thousand francs, and a house which was sold
for the enormous sum of twenty-eight thousand.
The lively little girl had seen very little of her
mother, but very much of Mademoiselle and Madame Thuillier
when she first returned to the paternal mansion in
1829; but in 1833 she fell under the dominion of Flavie,
who was then, as we have said, endeavoring to do her
duty, which, like other women instigated by remorse,
she exaggerated. Without being an unkind mother,
Flavie was very stern with her daughter. She remembered
her own bringing-up, and swore within herself to make
Celeste a virtuous woman. She took her to mass,
and had her prepared for her first communion by a
rector who has since become a bishop. Celeste
was all the more readily pious, because her godmother,
Madame Thuillier, was a saint, and the child adored
her; she felt that the poor neglected woman loved
her better than her own mother.
From 1833 to 1840 she received a brilliant
education according to the ideas of the bourgeoisie.
The best music-masters made her a fair musician; she
could paint a water-color properly; she danced extremely
well; and she had studied the French language, history,
geography, English, Italian,—in short,
all that constitutes the education of a well-brought-up
young lady. Of medium height, rather plump, unfortunately
near-sighted, she was neither plain nor pretty; not
without delicacy or even brilliancy of complexion,
it is true, but totally devoid of all distinction
of manner. She had a great fund of reserved sensibility,
and her godfather and godmother, Mademoiselle Thuillier
and Colleville, were unanimous on one point,—the
great resource of mothers—namely, that
Celeste was capable of attachment. One of her
beauties was a magnificent head of very fine blond
hair; but her hands and feet showed her bourgeois
origin.
Celeste endeared herself by precious
qualities; she was kind, simple, without gall of any
kind; she loved her father and mother, and would willingly
sacrifice herself for their sake. Brought up to
the deepest admiration for her godfather by Brigitte
(who taught her to say “Aunt Brigitte”), and
by Madame Thuillier and her own mother, Celeste imbibed
the highest idea of the ex-beau of the Empire.
The house in the rue Saint-Dominique d’Enfer
produced upon her very much the effect of the Chateau
des Tuileries on a courtier of the new dynasty.
Thuillier had not escaped the action
of the administrative rolling-pin which thins the
mind as it spreads it out. Exhausted by irksome
toil, as much as by his life of gallantry, the ex-sub-director
had well-nigh lost all his faculties by the time he
came to live in the rue Saint-Dominique. But
his weary face, on which there still reigned an air
of imperial haughtiness, mingled with a certain contentment,
the conceit of an upper official, made a deep impression
upon Celeste. She alone adored that haggard face.
The girl, moreover, felt herself to be the happiness
of the Thuillier household.