No Regrets - Carolyn Burke [79]
Since Edith’s early readings in Greek thought with Bourgeat, she had continued to read philosophical texts on the nature of the soul, which led her to more esoteric theories. Another friend recalled: “I would have expected her to like detective stories, but no, she read Plato.… We talked about things like the immortality of the soul.” If one accepted this doctrine, it was only a step to think that twin souls would meet in heaven, a hope that she deemed essential to go on living.
At her request, Piaf’s intimates flew to be with her while she completed her run at the Versailles. Dédée Bigard came to New York soon after Cerdan’s death and resumed work as Edith’s secretary. A few weeks later, despite his poor health, Bourgeat arrived to console his Piafou; he introduced her to the doctrine of reincarnation as propounded by the secret society known as the Rosicrucians. Though the revelation of these mystical truths was comforting, Edith derived more immediate solace once Momone also joined her and saw the advantage in giving Edith what she desired—a way to contact the Beyond.
A small pedestal table purchased in New York became the means of communication during the séances conducted by Momone and her co-conspirators over the next two years. Berteaut later justified her actions by saying that this piece of furniture had been necessary to keep Piaf alive. Others close to the singer saw the séances as Momone’s chance to obtain large sums of money by playing on Edith’s need to feel that she was in touch with Marcel, whose ghostly voice dictated the names of those on whom she should bestow a variety of gifts. Marc Bonel, who refused to take part in the séances, found that he was out of favor; Emer, Contet, Aznavour, and all those who told Piaf that she was being manipulated were in disgrace. It is possible that the singer knew more than she let on about the table-turning, but she wanted desperately to believe that she had not lost contact with Marcel.
Piaf’s professional life nonetheless continued as if she were in control. Not only would it damage her career if she left the Versailles before the end of her contract, but she had no wish to return to France. “I’ll wait a few months,” she told a friend. “I’m afraid to see Paris again without him.” On December 19, when she turned thirty-four, it would have been hard not to recall their trip to Paris the year before to celebrate the day together.
About that time, Piaf wrote the lyrics for a slow blues in memory of Cerdan, which she performed like an offering to the crowds at the Versailles. Until the end of her run, on January 31, 1950, she appeared each night in her black dress, went through her repertoire, then stood with her head in her hands to sing the blues that told her story, as if mourning in public. “Mon amour, je te retrouverai dans l’éternité” (“My love, we’ll meet again in heaven”) became the audiences’ favorite but was never recorded.
Years later, Piaf recovered some of the serenity that had deserted her when Cerdan died. Near the end of her life, she wrote, “I know that death is only the start of something else. Our soul regains its freedom.” But at the time, unable to regain her equilibrium, she kept on performing through sheer force of will. Piaf later wrote that she made the decision to live for her public: “Our lives do not belong to us. Courage makes us keep on till the end. In any case, since then Marcel has never left me.” But her intimates agreed that she was never the same.
Some believed that Piaf worshipped the boxer for the rest of her life because he left it when their love was at its height. “If it had gone on another year,” Berteaut conjectured, “she might have dismissed him, like all the others.” Although Danielle Bonel rarely agreed with Berteaut, she too thought that it was Cerdan’s untimely death that kept Piaf from forgetting him. In this view,