157 - MERMOZ, Jean

MERMOZ, Jean L.A.S. “Ton Jean,” Buenos Aires, June 28 [1928], to his “Dearest Mom”; 2½ pages, in-4 format, on Aeroposta Argentina letterhead. The hero’s doubts as he meets his future wife. After explaining the loss of a check, he is delighted to learn that his mother is in Royat: “Get well soon. […] If your stay in Royat further improves your health, I’ll find you completely transformed. I’d love to be near you, my little Mom. I need rest, but rest by your side, in the calm of the deep affection that unites us and which is my only comfort in the often difficult times I’m going through, despite the confidence I project and the glorious satisfactions that are all too often bestowed upon me. […] It is only up there, you see, that I truly feel like myself, but waking up here on earth is so often painful. My friends say I’m extraordinarily lucky. But if only they knew the price I often pay for it—through sheer willpower, energy, a spirit of sacrifice, and self-discipline. […] For me, this elevates me, propels me beyond myself, just as a torrent rushing down from the peaks bursts its banks and laughs in the face of obstacles. I possess an inner strength that I take pride in not ignoring. Through it, I feel capable of overcoming anything, of shattering everything—both in my ethereal existence, so to speak, and in my life on earth. And then my rare moments of weakness leave me battered, gasping for breath, almost miserable... Mom, why can’t I live like everyone else? Simply without passion, without drive, without those impulses of reasoned instinct that ensure I am not oblivious to the petty miseries and petty meanness of our time—which make me either too kind or too ferocious, depending on their whim. Why can’t I rise above all this without leaving behind, each time, a little of the very best that’s in me?” As for the “romantic question […] I have nothing but terrible stories that I’d laugh at if I didn’t have a heart, but which hurt me because I don’t like to hurt others and… that’s all I do… nothing but complications, from which I extricate myself only through sheer determination, not without creating painful situations for myself. And with the life I lead, how do you expect me to do otherwise!! ” He then confides in his mother the secret of his new “somewhat serious” relationship with a young French woman [Gilberte Chazottes, whom he would marry]: “a real young woman, not pretentious even though she has a high school diploma, not a tomboy even though she’s modern. I love her, Mom, truly, as deeply as I’m capable of loving […] The worst part is that she loves me too, and has for longer […] At first I resisted; I tried to stop seeing her, but then I loved her too much […] She believes there’s no reason to fight our impulses, whereas I think there are many reasons, as far as I’m concerned: my independent spirit, my situation—which will certainly become brilliant since that’s what I want, but is often so precarious, especially with the prospect of my upcoming raids and future travels. And so, to leave all that behind, to abandon the fruits of so much effort, and then to deprive myself of what I’m addicted to—I believe—for the rest of my life: no more flying, no more fighting, no more trying, no more taking risks. Mom, you see, that’s just not possible.”.. Attached is another L.A.S. “Your Jean,” Buenos Aires, June 27, 1928, to his mother (1½ pages, quarto size, on Compagnie Générale Aéropostale letterhead), accompanying the mailing of a check. “Perhaps I’ll be in Paris by October. The Director wants me to fly the Buenos Aires–Paris route on behalf of the company. Don’t worry. All safety precautions will be taken.” Correspondence, nos. 142 and 141. Provenance: - Jean Mermoz (1901–1936); - Gabrielle Gillet-Mermoz (1880–1955); - Then passed down within the family