Legacy- an Anthology

by Regina Calcaterra et al.

  Letter IIII

  To Augustin

  I believe your letters are still at our winter residence, but due to the occupation of Rome, my parents recently took flight for Florence. It is possible they have already arrived. The former capital has become so politically unstable that my father decided his only choice was to abandon the family home. It is sad, Augustin. I have the feeling that a part of myself will die the day I learn of its new ownership. But that is life, I suppose. Things change, and we change with them…

  Letter V

  To Adeline

  Life is only worth living, Adeline, if we fear losing it. If the irreplaceable disappears, what is the use of going on? What good is an existence stripped of its principal meaning? The idea of losing the slightest detail fastening my life to yours makes my blood run cold. I dare not think of it! I will buy the house from your parents and contact my friend the Ambassador of France so that he will take the necessary measures to assure its security. Time is ours, so that we may make our mark, so that our memories may take root forever.

  Letter VI

  To Augustin

  Augustin, that is most noble and honorable, and I am grateful. I will let my father know of your intentions, and he certainly will contact you. But tell me, your success seems remarkable. We did not have the opportunity to speak of it during the party, but please share the story of your work. Have you followed in the footsteps of your late grandfather? The business of precious metals appears to be more prolific than ever before.

  Letter VII

  To Adeline

  Business is business. The relations between my father and me, as you knew them, slowly deteriorated following my departure and travels around the world. He always refused to understand my desire for freedom, which makes me think that the example of his life, in a way, served as a point of reference for me. At any cost, I wanted to distance myself from the financial trap in which he found himself ensnared more and more tightly each day. That is why, from my earliest memories, I had this longing to leave, to flee this life of slavery in gold chains, to flee this incessant pressure that eats away at one like an invisible illness.

  I am a self-made man, Adeline. I built everything I have little by little, through my travels and encounters. This experience, far from the mundane life you and I have known since our youngest age, was the best of these past years. I encountered people without possessions, whose only riches were fulfilling the daily necessity: survival. I met families whose children started to work at the very moment they had enough strength to stand. I saw misery, Adeline, poverty at its most extreme. I saw the sadness of faces on which time, each day, etches another line as a testament to the suffering.

  Do not rely on the futile appearances of a few hours ago. All of that is simply a game of fools. I am not ashamed. I have no remorse for being a part of their world, no regrets about using the situation to my advantage. The truth, Adeline, is that your memory of the Augustin you knew should remain a memory amongst many others. I have liberty, and I choose my destiny, unlike my father. Adulthood has at least given me the opportunity to break free, and independence is priceless.

  Letter VIII

  To Augustin

  My dear Augustin,

  Your story is as remarkable as it is poignant. Who would have imagined such adventures? All the same, I was far from guessing you might resent the background that shaped you. What is left of our childhood sentiments? A bittersweet feeling that on one hand draws you to me, yet on the other, distances you irrevocably to the point of disdain for our social class? This class that gave birth to you. Seeking to renounce a part of one’s past or abandoning one’s origins, in my opinion, is not a mere statement of facts, but rather, the signal of a profound problem. You are perhaps sliding toward a loss of identity, Augustin, a loss of that person I knew long ago. Whether or not all you have said is true, the candor, spontaneity and lightheartedness that once defined you seem far from us now…

  Letter VIIII

  To Adeline

  Adeline,

  The coldness of your words surprises me! What have I said to offend you? You have saddened me to the depths of my soul. Doesn’t anything of our relation remain in your heart? Today, I am much more the “Augustin” you always knew than I ever could have been at that time in our lives. Understand, my love, that my journey, from continent to continent, only reinforced the vision I already had of our respective families and the world that surrounds us. Have you ever had the desire to take a step closer to the truth? “What truth?” you would ask me. Allow me to reply even before the question settles in your mind: The only and unique truth is the one that creates this rupture with the world of the superficial, the one that allows us to move closer to reality. And not simply the reality of the world as it is or as we would like to see it, but the reality that has the obligation of opening our eyes to who we are and the projects that accompany us as persons and humanists.

  Wouldn’t you like to see something other than what you saw this evening? What do you truly think of the sincerity of these guests, who have done no more than fill space in the castle’s ballroom? Haven’t you ever dreamed of something more?

  Letter X

  To Augustin

  Perhaps I am too young, Augustin, to understand all that you describe to me in the middle of the night? Perhaps I have unconsciously made the decision to hide from this “reality” of which you speak? Perhaps the maturity you have acquired at home, or from the paternal figures who seem to deeply influence you today, brought you to question the rules that are ever present in our society? Be honest, Augustin. Each of us plays a role, and we adapt our discourse according to those who accompany us along the way. Actor or spectator, the difference is minimal. At one moment we are the former, and the next, the latter. This allows us to peacefully exist in the society of which you have painted such a bleak picture. What touches you most at this very moment, Augustin? What is your principal preoccupation? What you are experiencing, right now, in this exchange of letters? Or what will be when our lives are merely a faded shadow in the memory of a descendent we may or may not have?

  To satisfy your curiosity, I will reply. Yes. Yes, from time to time (often, to be perfectly honest), I dream of a situation that is less ambiguous. Yes, I, too, wish to touch, to feel all that is true… The suffering of one’s soul, the scars of heartbreak, are the most difficult to heal, especially “when one is 17” (to cite your favorite poet). The perfect reason to protect oneself from the start.

  Letter XI

  To Adeline

  I am happy the words of my friend Rimbaud please you! Isn’t he extraordinary? So young, so passionate, so true in his writings.

  Adeline, you speak of learning to protect oneself at a young age—but from what? Our family environment, wrapping us in innocence and indulgence, at the very least may be credited for offering us an idyllic picture of the world, don’t you agree?

  Letter XII

  To Augustin

  Augustin, you describe to me a happiness orchestrated by an indolent rhythm of a life constructed from passivity instead of passion! I am speaking of sentiments, my dear friend, I am speaking of the heart, of heartbreak, of sadness…

  Letter XIII

  To Adeline

  Adeline, my sincerity and sentiments in relation to you have always been pure. You know that. To what sadness do you refer? What possibly could have happened to bring you to such words? A name! Give me a name, and I will propose a duel. This insult will not remain unpunished!

  Letter XIIII

  To Adeline

  My dear Adeline,

  I would be surprised to imagine slumber has taken you away from me, yet my last letter remains without reply. Have I offended you? End this silence, I beg you!

  Letter XV

  To Adeline

  Adeline,

  Your silence frightens me, leaves me in anguish. I refuse to believe you are sleeping. In any case, your maid informed my valet that you are indeed awake. Why are you wait
ing to reply? There is nothing you could possibly ask of me that I would not do for you! Reply, I beseech you, out of love for our youth, forever preserved in the warmth of our souls…

  Letter XVI

  To Augustin

  Augustin,

  More than courage, it was an immeasurable effort from the most profound depths of my being that gave me the force to reply to you. You clearly have traveled the world, which opened your eyes and touched you personally. Yet you do not realize what you left behind?

  Do you have the slightest idea of what I might have felt when I learned that you left France without even telling me of your destination or hinting about the length of your absence? Why didn’t you call on me one more time before your departure? Not a visit, not a word… How could you? On the dawn of my 17th year, then, when the awareness of love and passion awakens, the hour of promises. Leaving without a word, without worrying about those who had accompanied you for so many years. Augustin, you left, casting my sentiments aside! Bewilderment: That is the pitiful conclusion your flight left in its wake… and confusion, fright. All of the emotions one can imagine were mine at one point or another. One after the next. This feeling of abandonment hurts, Augustin. It destroys. It hurts like an invisible illness that eats away at its victim, leaving wounds that will not heal. Slowly, it destroys me, yet I maintain enough breath to survive, unable to escape this torture. I would rather be a sick horse, put out of its suffering! My poor mother was an impotent spectator, day after day, as I became feverish, as I ranted and sobbed. The best doctors of Paris were called to my bedside. Poor things, they searched in vain for a rational explanation. If only they knew that a broken heart never rises intact.

  I do not seek to blame you, Augustin. I do not hold you responsible for what happened to me because it was my own fault. I would have been better off casting aside the naiveté that was part of my daily life. I should have understood much earlier that I would be easy prey for the demons of love, my sentiments would fool me and I would become the ideal victim.

  Letter XVII

  To Adeline

  Oh, my Adeline! Sweet, dear Adeline, my fragile Adeline.

  How can I express what I feel as I read your letter? Never had I a clue of what was in your heart. How is it possible? How can I ever erase such injustice? How can I go on after such revelations?

  Adeline, now it is you who have irrevocably torn open my heart. When I left you at that tender age, I was not seeking to turn my back on you, I was not seeking to escape. And even if after leaving you without saying a word, you felt as if your world was collapsing, please know that I had only one goal: protecting you. It is indeed that, Adeline, to protect you from a goodbye that would have lasted an eternity and caused us great heartache. I am not a coward, my gentle Adeline. I only wanted to banish unnecessary suffering, but I now realize, and unfortunately much too late, that I failed. All I hoped to avoid is exactly what unfolded before our very eyes.

  Could you find the strength, in the depths of your heart, to one day forgive me? Even if it is simply a ruse meant to relieve your pain and to make me believe that this error of the past may be repaired. Do not blame yourself, Adeline, I beg you! Please understand my acts and intentions at that difficult time in my life. I could no longer breathe freely in my family’s home, and I found no liberty in a future that was defined for me by past generations. As if in a coffin, closing bit by bit each day, I suffocated—to such a point that I hated myself and my own name. I wanted to come back to you as a different man, Adeline. I wanted you to rediscover me one day, almost by accident as it was at this evening’s party, as someone sincere and ready for love. Love that lasts a lifetime, love that is endless and may withstand life’s hardships without ever weakening. The love that I can, that I yearn to give you, Adeline, without ever asking myself a question beyond the one that preoccupies me today and for the rest of my time on this earth: What can I do to win back your love? Right at this moment, I could throw aside my pen, break the rules that oppress us and knock on your door in the middle of this cold night so that I may fall upon my knees before you! Tell me that hope still exists, tell me that I do not leave you indifferent, I implore you…

  Letter XVIII

  To Augustin

  Augustin,

  As I earlier wrote, I accuse you of nothing, and therefore nothing should weigh on you to this degree. The situation is as it is, and neither of us can rewrite the past. I want to think of the future, Augustin, and never again remind myself of that difficult moment. It seemed important and appropriate, however, to tell you of it so that all may be clear between us. At present, I would like to build a destiny of tranquility for myself. We are young, and therefore have the time to let our emotions grow and strengthen without the slightest need for haste. Do not torture yourself for what will remain unchanged, my friend. It is not worth the torment. A heart that has already known so much sadness must not suffer twice.

  Letter XVIIII

  To Adeline

  Adeline,

  I read your words without understanding them. The sweet melody of your voice resonates in my mind, but as I see your last letter, I know something is wrong. What is this barrier that you try to build between us? Why this distance? Our bodies, by nature of our situation, are denied any embrace, even as my desire to take you in my arms grows with each letter that I send, and you speak of unnecessary haste? Adeline, what has happened to you? You, yourself, said it: Let us forget the past and live our lives today, at this very moment. But at this very moment, I only feel the coldness of dawn slipping little by little into the castle and your coldness paralyzing my body and soul! What sign are you waiting for?

  Letter XX

  To Augustin

  Augustin,

  What do you know about waiting? What do you know of the hours of agony that cut and leave you bleeding? Do not resuscitate all that I hope to escape and all that I hope never again to relive. Back in the days of the great tragedies, I would have died of heartbreak, and you would have entered the religious orders! Come out of your cocoon, Augustin, and stop inventing roles for yourself! For years, you had your chance. For years, you remained hesitant, not knowing which direction to take. For years, you played with my heart. I feel a sense of exasperation taking over, making me say I will not show you a trace of anger. I am strong, Augustin. I am no longer the little white dove, easily impressed by beautiful words.

  Letter XXI

  To Adeline

  This is too much, Adeline! I never tarnished your honor. Certainly, you expected promises, and I left without saying goodbye. I only wanted to protect you. I was wrong, and I regret it terribly. I will regret it until the end. I unveil to you now my most sincere feelings. To push me away in that manner is wrong, Adeline. I dare to think that perhaps behind your words, as hard as the walls of this castle, exists a spark, so small, yet only asking to be reignited.

  Letter XXII

  To Augustin

  Augustin,

  Our story can no longer exist. At least not at present. You must leave me, Augustin, and turn to uncharted horizons. It would be utopic to think of building a new future this way, in the middle of the night, even as day is almost upon us…

  Letter XXIII

  To Adeline

  Never! Do you understand, Adeline? NEVER! I refuse to let errors of the past soil our dream. I will not abandon it! If I must follow you to the ends of the earth and beg for your forgiveness, become your shadow so as never to leave you for an instant. I will make any sacrifice.

  Letter XXIIII

  To Augustin

  Augustin,

  Your passion, your words reassure me. I am not naïve. I can see love when it exists. But now it is my turn to protect you as I realize it is my responsibility to calm your ardor and tell you to hold onto your promises. The idea of losing you again is unbearable, and in spite of my late declaration of affection for you, reality enchains us, Augustin. I must go. I leave at sunrise. I will be joining my great-aunt in Austria.

>   Letter XXV

  To Adeline

  I will follow you. I will meet you there in less than two days, just the time to free myself from my obligations here, and I will be at your side.

  Letter XXVI

  To Augustin

  No, Augustin, this time apart will be good—for you and for me. I decided to spend a year in Vienna and continue my studies of music there. And I will not hide the second reason for this trip: I would not miss Carmen for anything in the world. The performances began several weeks ago at the Vienna opera house. Bizet no longer lives, as you know, but his masterpiece has triumphed. From Wagner to Brahms, all are under his charm. I even heard that the latter attended more than 20 shows! I want to experience this joy that awaits me, and then I want to be alone, to focus on my cello and my studies. A year, Augustin. Four little seasons. Could we possibly hope to reunite? Would you have the courage to wait for me? Am I being reasonable, asking you such a thing? Will the purity of our sentiments withstand this test?