DELACROIX (Eugène). 2 autograph letters to Madame de Pron. R - Lot 65

Lot n° 65
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DELACROIX (Eugène). 2 autograph letters to Madame de Pron. R - Lot 65
DELACROIX (Eugène). 2 autograph letters to Madame de Pron. RARISSIMES LETTRES D'AMOUR DU PEINTRE EN SES JEUNES. "To see you again, charming enchantress... " - S.l.n.d. "I COME HOME WITH MY HEART IN TURMOIL. WHAT A GOOD EVENING! BUT WHAT A CRUEL EVENING IF IT IS THE BEGINNING OF A TORMENT I HAVE LEARNED TO DREAD. I sometimes flatter myself that there may be cases of passion in life which are not at the same time a torment: must happiness always be paid for by a bitter tomorrow and often by a long series of sorrows? However the imagination pushes aside sad thoughts: what is the future so obscure that a hand pressed, that only a glance does not erase in our eyes. LOOK AT ME, OH JULIE, WITH SUCH TENDER EYES: REASSURE ME WELL AGAINST THE GHOSTS THAT MY PAST MEMORIES GATHER AROUND ME. Sometimes I say to myself, "Why did I see her again? In the peaceful retreat where I lived, even amidst the insipid ties I had formed for myself, which I had eagerly sought to forget and to escape, when her image crossed my thoughts, I managed to silence my heart. I no longer felt the violence of my first transports. I fled and could flee from the occasions of seeing you again, charming enchantress, I had that cruel strength. I sometimes imagined that you were happy. You were at least calm, weren't you? That is something in life, but it is nothing when one has glimpsed happiness, even in the distant future. I think, too, that in former times this passion would have been sweeter. I HAVE NOW CONCEIVED A DREADFUL IDEA WHICH I HAD NOT THEN: NEED I TELL YOU AGAIN? I FEAR YOU CANNOT LOVE PERFECTLY. There is a gap in your feelings which has been fatal to you. Your heart, which was perhaps more naive, has fallen asleep in insipidity and now it has lost the vivacity and freshness of the drive. Do you find this idea dreadful? No, I don't want to believe it, and besides, how could you disabuse me of this idea? It would only be by a long ordeal. OH THE SPIRIT! I HATE IT, IF IT SERVES TO WITHER THE SOUL AND DRY IT UP. TELL ME NO, TELL ME NO, LOVE... WHAT A ROMANCE IS OUR LIFE AND OUR HEARTS... Farewell, my head is fuzzy... "(4 pp. in-8 and 1 p. 1/2 in-12). "I still kiss my handkerchief... which has touched you everywhere... " - S.l., "Wednesday, Nov. 5" [1823]. "TELL ME, AMIE CHÉRIE, THAT YOU DO NOT REGRET THE INSTANTS OF HAPPINESS THAT YOU GIVE YOUR FRIEND: tell me that you do not resent me : I BOOKS & AUTOGRAPHS 83TH THURSDAY, APRIL 29, 2021BOOKS & AUTOGRAPHS THURSDAY, APRIL 29, 2021 84re the heart all full of happiness, and your pretty little pouty face, I don't want to believe a word of it to get through a complete good night. Would you have had the courage to hold a grudge against me by returning to your beloved little room, and resting all your graces in that bed which my jealous love cannot share? Love me as I love you, as love wants us to love. To take away a little of these divine pleasures is to deceive him, to go against his wish. You know that he is a tyrant: he wants everything, and when he has everything he wants the impossible. I WOULD LIKE TO FLOW WITH YOUR BLOOD THROUGH YOUR VEINS AND GO INTO YOUR HEART TO SEE IF I OCCUPY IT ALL. Say, can I occupy it and deserve you? Once again, do not refuse anything to tender love. Why am I still kissing my handkerchief that touched you earlier, that touched you everywhere? Dare you say that this is madness: of you, what should I not love? What a moment it is to leave what you love! What loneliness until you find and press your hand! Tomorrow I shall see you. Let your eyes tell me that you love me. Don't you! Tomorrow night you'll write me to read from you on Friday, in this cursed day that should have been divine. May I receive something long from you, love... Farewell, love me as I love you. Go to bed! It is to separate myself from you a second time, for your memory is still with me and WHO KNOWS WHAT THE WAVE OF SONGS WILL BRING ME. WILL IT BE YOUR SWEET IMAGE? OR WILL MY SAD IMAGINATION GIVE BIRTH TO MORE HORRIBLE MONSTERS? It is late: I cannot yet give up the memory of my evening. You are probably sleeping. If only I could keep you busy in your dreams. Farewell, it is necessary in the end - love, love, love... "MADAME DE PRON, YOUTHFUL LOVE OF EUGÈNE DELACROIX. Louise Du Bois Des Cours de La Maisonfort, was the daughter of the Marquis de La Maisonfort, Minister of France in Tuscany, and of Louise-Adélaïde Gascoing de Berthun, friend of Vigée-Lebrun. She had married Louis-Jules-Barbon Rossignol de Pron who, an alcoholic, fell into madness in 1822 and from whom she would separate in 1829. Very beautiful, she was courted by her cousin Coëlosquet (of whom she probably had a child out of wedlock) and by Ch
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