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Yours, dear good master, all my affection. Gustave Flaubert otherwise called the R. P. Cruchard of the Barnabites, director of the Ladies of Disillusion. Dear master, Cruchard should have thanked you sooner for sending him your last book; but his reverence is working like ten thousand negroes, that is his excuse. But it did not hinder him from reading "Impressions et Souvenirs."
Your two friends, Tourgueneff and Cruchard philosophized about that from Nohant to Chateauroux, very comfortably borne along in your carriage at a smart pace by two horses. Hurrah for the postillions of La Chatre! But the rest of the trip was horrid because of the company we had in our car. I was consoled for it by strong drink, as the Muscovite had a flask full of excellent brandy with him.
CCLXXXIII TO GUSTAVE FLAUBERT Nohant, 5th November, 1874 What, my Cruchard, you have been ill? That is what I feared, I who live in the woes of indigestion and yet hardly work at all, I am disquieted at your kind of life, the excess of intellectual expenditure and the seclusion.
CCXCV. TO GEORGE SAND Wednesday Will you forgive my long delay, dear master? But I think that I must bore you with my eternal jeremiads. I repeat myself like a dotard! I am becoming too stupid! I am boring everybody. In short, your Cruchard has become an intolerable old codger, because he has been intolerant.
Of what use are these pleasures of vision, and how are these impressions transformed later? One does not know ahead, and, with time and the easy ways of life, everything is met with again and preserved. What news of your play? Have you begun your book? Have you chosen a place to study? Do tell me what is becoming of my Cruchard, the Cruchard of my heart. Write to me even if only a word!
If I should continue a long time in this vein, I should blind myself entirely, for on the other side art has to be a good fellow; or rather art is what one can make it, we are not free. Each one follows his path, in spite of his own desire. In short, your Cruchard no longer knows where he stands. But how difficult it is to understand one another!
Embrace warmly the dear little girls for me, and entirely yours. R. P. Cruchard More Cruchard than ever. I feel like a good-for-nothing, a cow, damned, antique, deliquescent, in short calm and moderate, which is the last term in decadence. CCLXXIX. TO GEORGE SAND Kalt-Bad. Righi. Friday, 3d July, 1874 Is it true, dear master, that last week you came to Paris?
CCLXXXVI. TO GUSTAVE FLAUBERT, at Croissset Nohant, 16th January, 1875 I too, dear Cruchard, embrace you at the New Year, and wish that you may have a tolerable one, since you do not care to hear the myth happiness spoken of. You admire my serenity; it does not come from my depths, it comes from my necessity of thinking only of others.
CCLXVI. TO GEORGE SAND January, 1874 As I have a quiet moment, I am going to profit by it by talking a little with you, dear good master! And first of all, embrace for me all your family and accept all my wishes for a Happy New Year! This is what is happening now to your Father Cruchard. Cruchard is very busy, but serene and very calm, which surprises everybody. Yes, that's the way it is.
In short, the persistence of the Comedie Francais in exhibiting that to us as "a masterpiece" had so exasperated me that, having gone home in order to get rid of the taste of this milk-food, I read before going to bed the Medea of Euripides, as I had no other classic handy, and Aurora surprised Cruchard in this occupation. I have written to Zola to send you his book.
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