Ramuz was essentially saturnine, 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 shot through with pessimism, anxiety and worry, not only for himself but above all for those closest to him. He was an attentive, loving father who, as a naturally anxious man, brooded over his daughter Marianne. The same was true of his wife Cécile, with whom he enjoyed a real closeness, as evidenced by their richly humorous letters. When one of the members of this trio was away from home, Ramuz wrote almost obsessively, nearly every day, expressing his concern, reminding them of his recommendations, asking for news. Ramuz—and this was even more the case when his daughter was married and had a child—was only at peace when his family were with him 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 L’Acacia (Lausanne), ca. 1917
Collection C. F. Ramuz, BCUL
RR