STENDHAL (1783 - 1842)

L.A., Salzdahlum Castle, September 2 [1807], to his sister Pauline BEYLE; 4 pages in-8.
Beautiful letter, illustrated with a sketch, about the memory of his passion for
Victorine Mounier.
"You cannot imagine, my good Pauline, the pleasure that your letter has just given me. I had almost forgotten your writing [...] No reason should ever make you throw what you write to me into the fire. Don't you know how much I love you? Must I tell you again?
But write me a lot about this charming V. [Victorine MOUNIER].
I think you are right, she is a very rare soul. I have loved her very much, and I have seen her seven times in my life. All my other passions were only a reflection of this one. I loved Melanie because she reminded me of her character. You feel how precious the smallest details about V. are to me.
Does she love her brother as much as you say. She is one of the driest characters I know, truly made for the good company of this century. But I must not complain about the illusion that makes brothers lovable. I only wish it would lead me to write to them more often.
This sweet thought of V., which in my soul precedes almost all the sorrows I remember at present, came to me, in the middle of superb forests, still fresh with the morning dew, at the moment when, with 8 good friends, with whom I would be careful not to forget for a moment that it is necessary to be kind, at the moment when we are going to hunt deer. My chief M.
[Martial DARU] has taken a passion for hunting, so that he sees with indulgence or pretends not to see the escapes I make from my den.
I will think of you both all day. Try to find out if she likes it in
Paris or Rennes; I almost feel like telling you like the good Lord, whenever you are together I will be in your midst. What a sweet pleasure if the thousand silly vanities that separate us, allowed us, while we are still young, to spend a day in these thick woods, in the middle of their vast silence. We would almost find that in the great Chartreuse, but the conveniences, but the chatter of the high street &a &a. So look for your happiness in an embroidered collar and flee the high street. [...] By the way, I killed a partridge yesterday. It is the first of my life, but it did not give me the thousandth part of the pleasure that a thrush gave me that I killed in the path under Doyatière on a large ash tree on the right as I was going up". And he draws the scene with a pen.
General Correspondence, t. I, n° 284.