In the photo, Cécile Cellier-Ramuz and her daughter Marianne look into the lens. Cécile is standing in front of a house. She is wearing a vertically striped dress and is holding a white hat. The child Marianne is standing in the frame of a barred window, barefoot in a short white dress. Beside her sit two dolls, also in white.

Ramuz was first and foremost a Saturnian, as he confessed in his autobiography Découverte du monde (1939). A melancholy, anguished man whose torment grew in proportion to uncertainty and the unknown. His whole life was marked by pessimism, anxiety and worry, not only for himself but above all for those closest to him. Ramuz was an attentive, loving father, brooding over his daughter Marianne like an anguished man. The same is true of his wife Cécile, with whom he enjoyed a real complicity, as evidenced by their humorous letters. When one of the members of this trio was away from home, Ramuz wrote, almost every day, expressing his concern, reminding them of his recommendations, asking for news, to the point of obsession. Ramuz – and this will be even truer when his daughter is married and has a child – is only at peace when his family is at home.

Now I am really worried again. I don’t like this hoarseness. Is it really over? Make sure it doesn’t turn into bronchitis or a sore throat. Don’t let her leave for school in the morning if she’s not feeling well. You can never be too careful.

Letter to Cécile Cellier, 1920s

Caption

Cécile Ramuz-Cellier with their daughter Marianne at the Acacia (Lausanne), circa 1917

Collection C. F. Ramuz, BCUL

DR