but unmistakable. Those lines, I fear, will make it more and more impossible for someone like me—the daughter of a vicomte —to marry someone like Michel—the son of a music teacher.
Somehow, in this quiet hour before sleep, I have managed to complete my anthem. The melody is there, and the words, and I have noted the harmonies. It’s a sketch only, but anyone who knows how to read such things would see on these sheets the heart and soul that created something from the mere suggestion of an idea. I cannot say where the impulse comes from; I can but attest that it takes me over with a power few would understand.
It is for this reason that I have come to an important decision. I have decided that I shall open my heart to Michel—if he wishes to receive it. It may be a foolhardy thing to do, but the time has come, I feel, to seize my life. Until now, I have looked to Maman for guidance in everything, never giving her a moment’s resistance or questioning her at all when she has said, You shall go to school here; you shall wear these dresses; you shall befriend these young ladies; you shall make yourself look beautiful for this party .... Now I shall have my own reasons for what I do. I will not do as I have done in the past: willfully ignore the stirrings of my heart and discourage the person who is the cause of them. Instead I will embrace the troubledfeelings I have, and press upon them, even loving the pain they cause if that is the result.
How else will I ever know if I can take the next step, from girlhood to womanhood?
11
Eliza
Today I have my first comportment lesson with Madame Campan.
“I advise you to study the movements and actions of Hortense, Eliza,” she says at the beginning, before we have started. Everyone is there except for Caroline, who is often late.
“Let us begin with the correct manner of greeting a bishop, or other high-ranking cleric,” Madame Campan says, drawing herself up as though she is preparing to enter the audience chamber of a queen. I cast my eye around the parlor, with its old-fashioned, slightly worn furnishings. The paneling on the walls is delicately carved, but the paint on it peels here and there. Three paintings—all portraits from before the revolution, with the ladies’ hair powdered and piled up high—gaze down upon us disapprovingly. I see thefaintest outline on one wall of a space where another picture hung once. Perhaps it was sold in a time of need.
I listen to the young students saying, turn by turn, “I am honored, Your Grace” or “Charmed, Your Eminence,” and realize that in Virginia there is little need for such knowledge. People are either “mister” or “doctor” or “mistress” or “miss.”
“Mademoiselle Eliza, perhaps you could tell me how to greet one of the members of our own Directoire, our equivalent to your Congress. What would you say after being introduced?”
Before I can answer that I would say, “Good afternoon, Congressman” or “Enchanted to meet you, sir,” we are interrupted by Caroline, who sweeps in, a hat upon her head and gloves in her hand as though she is preparing to go outside.
“I beg your pardon, madame,” Caroline says with a pretty curtsy, making up a little for her rude interruption before, “but I have just received a message from my mother, who insists that I go to Paris to be with my family.”
“Oh?” Madame Campan says, clearly put out that the message went directly to Caroline instead of passing through the proper channels. “What can be so urgent that you must depart like this, in the middle of an important lesson?”
“She did not say, but I believe it may have something to do with the ball she is arranging in my honor.”
A ball? Caroline has said nothing of such a possibility, and I cannot imagine she would not be crowing about it ifshe could. I certainly would in her place. And of course, after our late-night excursion, I know how devious Caroline can be.
Madame Campan smiles,
Somehow, in this quiet hour before sleep, I have managed to complete my anthem. The melody is there, and the words, and I have noted the harmonies. It’s a sketch only, but anyone who knows how to read such things would see on these sheets the heart and soul that created something from the mere suggestion of an idea. I cannot say where the impulse comes from; I can but attest that it takes me over with a power few would understand.
It is for this reason that I have come to an important decision. I have decided that I shall open my heart to Michel—if he wishes to receive it. It may be a foolhardy thing to do, but the time has come, I feel, to seize my life. Until now, I have looked to Maman for guidance in everything, never giving her a moment’s resistance or questioning her at all when she has said, You shall go to school here; you shall wear these dresses; you shall befriend these young ladies; you shall make yourself look beautiful for this party .... Now I shall have my own reasons for what I do. I will not do as I have done in the past: willfully ignore the stirrings of my heart and discourage the person who is the cause of them. Instead I will embrace the troubledfeelings I have, and press upon them, even loving the pain they cause if that is the result.
How else will I ever know if I can take the next step, from girlhood to womanhood?
11
Eliza
Today I have my first comportment lesson with Madame Campan.
“I advise you to study the movements and actions of Hortense, Eliza,” she says at the beginning, before we have started. Everyone is there except for Caroline, who is often late.
“Let us begin with the correct manner of greeting a bishop, or other high-ranking cleric,” Madame Campan says, drawing herself up as though she is preparing to enter the audience chamber of a queen. I cast my eye around the parlor, with its old-fashioned, slightly worn furnishings. The paneling on the walls is delicately carved, but the paint on it peels here and there. Three paintings—all portraits from before the revolution, with the ladies’ hair powdered and piled up high—gaze down upon us disapprovingly. I see thefaintest outline on one wall of a space where another picture hung once. Perhaps it was sold in a time of need.
I listen to the young students saying, turn by turn, “I am honored, Your Grace” or “Charmed, Your Eminence,” and realize that in Virginia there is little need for such knowledge. People are either “mister” or “doctor” or “mistress” or “miss.”
“Mademoiselle Eliza, perhaps you could tell me how to greet one of the members of our own Directoire, our equivalent to your Congress. What would you say after being introduced?”
Before I can answer that I would say, “Good afternoon, Congressman” or “Enchanted to meet you, sir,” we are interrupted by Caroline, who sweeps in, a hat upon her head and gloves in her hand as though she is preparing to go outside.
“I beg your pardon, madame,” Caroline says with a pretty curtsy, making up a little for her rude interruption before, “but I have just received a message from my mother, who insists that I go to Paris to be with my family.”
“Oh?” Madame Campan says, clearly put out that the message went directly to Caroline instead of passing through the proper channels. “What can be so urgent that you must depart like this, in the middle of an important lesson?”
“She did not say, but I believe it may have something to do with the ball she is arranging in my honor.”
A ball? Caroline has said nothing of such a possibility, and I cannot imagine she would not be crowing about it ifshe could. I certainly would in her place. And of course, after our late-night excursion, I know how devious Caroline can be.
Madame Campan smiles,
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