The Art of Melancholia

The Ties That Bind

Events progressed rapidly.

My mother told me in the morning. I stormed out of her apartments and to my father's study. I stood there with a closed fist over the wood. My burst of anger and confidence melted as I stared at the grain of the wood. Overcome with a sickness I attempted to turn back but the door in front of me opened before I could leave. My father stood tall before me in his dark green dressing gown. His mouth turned down when he saw me.

"What?"

"I," It took a moment for the rest to follow, "I need to speak with you, Monseigneur."

"Fine," he said as he turned back into his study. I followed but stood close to the door - just in case.

"What is it?" he asked as he sat down in his red velvet chair behind his desk. I believed he already knew why I was there.

"Maman told me I am to marry the Mademoiselle de Rohan."

"Yes," he said as he searched through the papers on the table and not looking up at me, "what of it?"

What of it? As if it was only another commonplace. As if it was nothing at all - as if it wasn't my entire life. The immense displeasure - the betrayal - of it all. That my family would all conspire against me to force an engagement without consulting me. In honest, I should have expected it. I should have - but I did not. The future wasn't something I ever looked into then.

I have to say that I wasn't always as aggressively pessimistic as I've portrayed myself to be. There were time when I had vague hopes. I've never had any clear-cut aspirations or shooting star destinies. In my mind's eyes there existed a perfect provincial life: vast lawns, a large chateau of white stone nestled sound in a land with a never setting sun. I wished for a place where I could do as I pleased and could be completely satisfied. In my mind is where that place has stayed. It rains far too much and the blue skies turn to gray far too easily.

In my visions, I didn't picture a wife for myself. Logically, I knew I would have one - somewhere, someday- like all gentlemen (1). I only could not see her. I couldn't imagine what she looked like, or see her next to me, or see children - also somewhere someday - running across green lawns. I was limited to the exterior of my person and couldn't cover anyone else. If I thought about it hard enough, I only saw a calm and caring presence and nothing too specific on looks or personality. I believed I could love anyone who loved me back.

For Catherine specifically, I did not know her - I didn't want her.

"I-I don't want to."

"I see," he said in a calm voice, "I understand."

"You do?"

"Yes I understand completely," he said as he continued to rifle through his papers, "you don't want to help our family. Do your duty-"

"Well no-"

"Yes that's just what you said. You would rather be a lonesome hanger-on getting fat on allowances, am I correct?" he stared at me then, "well I will not allow it. It matters not what you want. Only beasts live on through their own will and passions. No one wishes to be married. They do because their situation requires it - and we do require it."

"How?"

"If you don't our family will be forever be disgraced in the eyes of Society after what your brother has done. Do you wish that?? For our family to fall to ruin? You might -"

"No," I said in a low voice, "I don't wish that."

"Then you will marry her - it has been decided," he said, " she will have a considerable dowry and there are debts to be paid. Pretty and young as well - don't look so upset it could be worse. The Rohans can get you a position anywhere."