Today I was at work, cleaning up my computer. I was doing other stuff, but the accumulation of crap on my computer was becoming overwhelming… a huge jumble of files and scraps dating back to 2004. To tell the truth, some of the files are from 2002, dragged over from my old computer after I graduated high school.
I am SO PLEASED with my computer for lasting this long. Every so often I think I should put it out to pasture and get a new slicker better unit, but this one has served me so well for so long that I can’t see why I should leave it by the wayside, just because it’s old.
Anyway, while sorting things into new folders, I found a document called “Madam”, created March 19, 2007. It’s a love letter from a spurned lover to ‘Marie’, and I didn’t write it. Some googling has not provided me with answers. It’s definitely weird. Here it is;
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★Madame:
Can it really be that I must never see you again? This question haunts me, for my heart has already come to feel your absence as a great privatation. When I learned that you had stopped posing, and that I was unwittingly cause, I felt strangely sad.
I wanted to write you, even though I am not given to writing; one almost always regrets it. But I run no risk, since my mind is made up to give myself to you for good and all.
You know our long talk on Thursday was most strange. It has changed my whole state and makes me write this letter.
Think of a man saying: “I love you,” and begging, and a woman answering: “Love you? I? Never! There is but one I love, and woe to anyone who follows, for he would earn my coldness and contempt”. And this same man, for the pleasure of looking longer into your eyes, lets you talk of another, talk of nothing but him, warm your blood for him alone, and think only of him. All these avowals have changed you, most strangely, from a merely desirable woman into a woman that I love for her candor, for her passion, for her directness, for her youth, and for her folly.
I have lost greatly by these explanations, since you were so decided that I had to submit at once. But you, madame, have greatly gained, for you have inspired my respect and deep esteem. Live ever thus and treasure the passion that makes you so lovely and so happy.
Come back, I beg, and I will make my longings gentle and modest. I deserved your contempt when I answered that I would be content with crumbs. I lied. Oh, but if you only knew how lovely you were that evening. I dare not be commonplace with compliments, but your eyes, your mouth, your whole living and moving person comes before my closed eyes and I feel it has come to stay.
Come back, I beg you on my knees. I do not say that you will find me free from love. However you cannot keep my longings from haunting your arms, your lovely hands, your eyes where all your life is gathered, your whole adorable body, no, you cannot stop that. But fear not; you are something I worship, and could never defile. I shall always see you as radiant as I did. Your whole person is so good, so beautiful, and so sweet to breathe. For me you are life and motion, no so much because of your quick gesture and the violent side of your nature, as because of your eyes, that cannot but inspire a poet with deathless love. How can I tell you how much I love your eyes and all your beauty? You blend two warring graces, the grace of the child and the grace of the woman. Oh, believe me when I tell you from the bottom of my heart that you are adorable and that I love you deeply. The feeling is virtuous that binds me to you forever. Do what I will, you are henceforth my talisman and my strength. I love you, Marie, there’s no denying that, but the love that I feel is the love the Christian for his God. It would be sacrilege to give and earthly and often shameful name to this bodiless and mystical cult, this suave and chaste attraction that unites my soul to yours, whether you will or no. I was dead and you gave me life. Oh, you little know how much! I own you, for your angel glance struck unknown joys into me, your eyes drew me into the soul’s bliss, into all that is perfect and delicate. Henceforth, you are my one dream, my passion, and my loveliness; you are the part of myself that a spiritual essence has shaped.
Through you, Marie, I shall be strong and great. Like Petrarch, I will immortalize my Laura. Be my guardian Angel, my Muse and my Madonna, and lead me on the path to Beauty.
Do answer me one word, I beg you, just one. Everyone’s life has doubtful and decisive days when a token of friendship, a look, a scribbled something will fling us into silliness of madness. I swear to you that I am such a state. A word from you would be a blessing to gaze on and learn by heart. Could you but know how I love you. Here, I fling myself at your feet: one word, say one word… No, you will not!
Happy, a thousand times happy, must be the man whom you have chosen out of all, you who are so wise and fair and gifted, all desire, spirit, and heart. What woman could ever take your place! I dare not ask to see you, lest you refuse. I had rather wait.
I shall wait for years, and when you see yourself loved with respect, with complete disinterestedness, then you will recall that you started by treating me badly, and you will own that you did wrong.
Anyways, I am not free to ward off what blows the idol may please to strike at me. You were pleased to show me the door. I am pleased to adore you. The matter is settled.
seems unfinished to me.
Strange, innit. Wish I knew who wrote it, and why it’s on my computer.
